“You’re just making excuses, Brett,” Chickadee said. She was angry at herself for once looking up to him.
“I didn’t want to do what I did. I thought if we got the money during the game, that would be it. But he wanted it all.” Brett spread his hands in surrender.
The cousins stared at him.
“So, they bully you too?” Otter watched carefully for Brett’s response.
Brett’s eyes were full of tears that wouldn’t fall. He nodded slowly. “It’s a gang. We basically have to pay to, like, work for them.” Brett sighed, held his head with one hand. “My dad always said, every job is a soap opera. You know, like those shows on TV? There are always people who want to get farther up the ladder, people who bring their troubles to work, people who have emotional issues.”
Chickadee and Otter nodded.
“Gangs are a soap opera that will get you killed. Beat up, at least. You always have to be, like, watching your back.”
Chickadee and Otter looked at each other.
“I didn’t mean for you to get hurt, Otter,” Brett said.
“Well, I did….” Otter picked up his box and began walking to Alan’s car once again.
Chickadee and Brett stared at each other a moment.
“We good?” Brett asked. His voice doubtful.
“How can I trust you?” Chickadee’s voice was pleading. She hoped he would have an answer.
Brett shook his head and looked at the sky.
“I suppose I can forgive you for what happened to me.” Chickadee’s eyes were wet, then her voice took on an edge. “But I can’t forgive what happened to the boys. I can’t forgive what happened to Otter.”
“I messed up,” Brett said, his voice apologetic.
“Good-bye, Brett.” Chickadee walked around him. The tears quietly rolled down her cheeks.
Brett said nothing for a moment, but then his voice was suddenly angry. “You wonder why I did what I did? This is why! Everyone goes back…goes back to Windy Lake. And I’m stuck here…with my brother. Nobody has our back! It’s just us!”
Chickadee stopped and spoke over her shoulder. “I’m sorry you have to go through that. I really am. But they didn’t know we existed. You didn’t have to feed us to your wolf pack.” Chickadee kept walking.
Brett pedaled away in the other direction.
Chapter 24
Hope from Home
“Lolly was so cool!”
Otter was over the moon with the memory of meeting his hero. He put the popcorn maker on the counter and plugged it into the kitchen wall. The Muskrats and Harold were looking for late-night snacks. They planned to spend the rest of the evening watching a movie. They were extremely grateful to Harold for the day they’d had.
“You’re lucky. Meeting your hero can be a dangerous thing. They’re not always like you expect them to be.” Harold waved his hand in the air as though dismissing a bad memory.
“I never, ever thought I would meet him.” Atim shook his head in wonder.
Harold shrugged. “I’m not too surprised. Apparently, Alan knows him, and Alan’s been around for years. But really? The urban Indigenous community can be fairly small too.” He chuckled.
“Is that why you volunteer? So you can meet cool people?” Samuel was watching Harold cut himself a couple of squares of Auntie Sadie’s baked bannock. After Harold was finished with the knife, he handed it off to his little cousin.
“I am the cool people, little cousin!” Harold snapped his fingers. “Nah. I like meeting awesome people, but it’s not about that. There’s a lot of poor people in the city. It’s a pretty stark environment if you don’t have the cash to go to its better bits. Everyone needs music.” Harold smiled and spread jam on buttered bannock.
Chickadee dug around in Auntie Sadie’s refrigerator. She grabbed a package of sliced vegetables from the fridge and moved to the doorway to get out the way of the feeding frenzy.
Otter took the popcorn out of the cupboard and placed it on the counter. Atim grabbed it and tried to pour the popcorn into the hot air popper. Looking down, his long bangs fell in his eyes. As Atim tried to flick his vision clear, his movement sent an army of kernels scattering over the floor. Quickly, he crouched down to corral the fleeing yellow orbs. As Samuel stepped back from cutting his bannock, a kernel bit into his heel. With a shout, he clutched his foot in pain. Otter smacked his forehead in consternation and stared up at the ceiling.
“Let’s get out of here before the Three Stooges drag us in!” Harold pulled on Chickadee’s sleeve and, with his bannock now jammed and plated, headed for the living room.
Chickadee shared a weak grin with her older cousin. Once they were on the couch with their snacks, Harold teased, “So, that was at least worth a chuckle, and all I got was a smile. What’s wrong?” He leaned over and gave her a nudge.
“I want to talk to Grandpa.” Chickadee sighed and took a bite of a carrot.
“Wow! He doesn’t have a phone. How do you call him on the rez?” Harold stared into the distance, trying to figure out how to solve the challenge.
“I’ve never had to call him on the rez.” Chickadee laughed.
“Well…when my mom wants to talk to him…” Harold rubbed his jaw as he thought, “she calls your mom. And then you run down the hill and tell Grandpa that my mom wants to talk to him. A day or two later, he finds a phone, and calls back.”
“Mmm…I think there’s something wrong with that plan,” Chickadee deadpanned.
“Well…didn’t one of our cousins back on the rez, I think it was Mark, tell me he got an iPad for Christmas?” Harold squinted at Chickadee as he tried to squeeze out the memory.
“Yes! We were watching videos on it at the House-teraunt!” Chickadee pointed her finger skyward.
“I’m going to use FaceTime, call Mark, and see where he’s at.” Harold whipped out his cell.
The whirr and blow of the hot air popper could be heard from the kitchen. “Sounds like those boneheads have figured out how to pop popcorn.” Harold laughed as he waited for his cousin Mark to answer. Eventually, they heard the triple tone that meant someone had answered their FaceTime phone call.
A brief jog by Mark and forty-five minutes later, Chickadee was looking at Grandpa through Harold’s phone. The boys screamed, “Hello!” at Grandpa as they watched the movie. Chickadee took the small tablet into the empty basement.
“How are you doing, Grandpa?” Chickadee smiled into the screen.
“Can you see me, Chickadee? Can you see me?” Grandpa shouted.
“I can hear you, Grandpa. I’m far away, but the microphone is close.” Chickadee giggled.
“Are you teasing me?” Grandpa said, quieter and serious.
“Yes, Grandpa.” Chickadee smiled behind her hand.
Grandpa giggled. “Why am I standing in my backyard, little one?” As Grandpa looked around, he panned the camera. Chickadee could see that he was indeed standing behind his house.
“Because you’re borrowing the Ferland’s WiFi, Grandpa.” Chickadee didn’t want to have to explain all that to her Elder, so she changed the subject quickly. “I’m sorry, Grandpa, but we didn’t find your sister.” Her voice cracked a little as she said it. The emotion came up quickly and she couldn’t hold it back. She covered her face as the tears began to flow.
“It’s okay, little one. It’s okay. I shouldn’t have put so much on you. I should have known you would take it to your heart.” Grandpa held his screen close to his face.
“I’m fine. I’m just upset about a bunch of things. We did find some stuff.” Chickadee went on to explain how they had tracked down Auntie Charlotte’s picture, her date of birth, and her file at the provincial adoption registrar. “But then, we hit a wall,” Chickadee explained. “We have some papers for you to fill out. If she’s looking for us, then maybe we could connect.”
“Well, it’s amazing how much you’ve learned. I will fill them out, as soon as you bring them,” Grandpa promised.
“Okay, Grandpa.” Chickadee smiled sadly at her Elder.
“Little one, is there something else that is bothering you?” Grandpa looked concerned.
“It’s just…” she sobbed. “This trip, there was so much to see…and so much that happened….”
“Not all of it good?” Grandpa asked.
“Not all of it good,” Chickadee confirmed. “And now, I’m just tired.”
“It’s okay. I understand. The city is an amazing thing, but it moves very fast.”
“It changes people.” Chickadee pictured Brett as she said it.
“It does. You are the land you live on.” Grandpa chuckled. “The city is built for humans, and so it is the perfect nest for people. But that also means its dark places, its failings, its cracks are made for humans as well.” Grandpa stared off screen, lost in thought.
“A friend of ours, well, he used to be a friend…” Chickadee’s lip began to quiver.
“He got lost?” Grandpa spoke after it was clear she couldn’t.
Chickadee nodded.
“Funny thing about the city. We have pushed out all the big souls.” Grandpa’s face left the screen as he laughed. “The animal brothers in the city are the domesticated, the scavengers, or the frightened. Have you seen the news stories when a moose or even a little deer wanders into the city? Not all souls are allowed there. Even the gentle spirit of the deer causes chaos.”
“Why is that, Grandpa?”
“My brother grew up with me, eating a lot of wild food that was butchered at home. I remember my brother telling me once, when he moved to the city, he got his chicken all clean, on a Styrofoam plate, with the bone, fat, and veins all cut away. Nice, white meat all the time. He got used to it. He said his first taste of good ol’ duck soup back home was a surprise. Especially, with all the skin and bones and legs thrown in for people to pick at.” Grandpa laughed at his brother again, as he probably had many times before. “He grew up on duck soup. And then, all of a sudden, it was…icky.”
Chickadee was suddenly looking at a blur, then Grandpa’s leg, then another blur, then the sky, all while listening to her Grandpa laugh. Chickadee giggled herself.
“Grandpa! Grandpa!” she shouted at Harold’s phone. Eventually, the old man’s wrinkled face once again filled the screen.
“Good thing they didn’t serve moose nose.” Grandpa guffawed a few more times and then took control of himself.
“Thanks for making me feel better, Grandpa. I was feeling…a little lost myself.” Chickadee kissed her hand and then pressed it to the screen.
“You’ll be home soon, little one. And then, it will be easier to make you smile.” Grandpa waved at her as he held the screen at arm’s length. Then suddenly there was a blur, her Elder’s leg going back and forth, and then Grandpa’s voice. “Mark! Mark! How do I shut this thing off?!”
Chickadee smiled and sighed.
Chapter 25
Quest Continued
She was in a room she didn’t recognize. The smell of dust was almost overwhelming. She coughed. The bed was shabby. The blankets were threadbare and worn. There was little furniture; a bed, a three-drawer dresser, and a tiny nightstand. She opened a dark, wood door that led down a long hall. The bedrooms were empty of life, but full of furniture and evidence of habitation. She called out. No reply. The living room looked like a showroom in a catalogue. The rest of the house was in much better shape than her drab space. She walked through a kitchen, empty but for tiled counters, long-legged stools, and the hum of a fridge. Eventually, a utility room with a washer and dryer, and the back door. She tried the doorknob. Locked. She wanted to get out. It was an itch in her spine. There was something wrong in this house. She hurried back to the living room. Dust fell like a soft snow on every surface. It filled her with fear. She had to get it off. A feather duster was in hand. Frantically, she tried to sweep away the ever-thickening powder. Her fear increased with the dust. She coughed, gagged. She had to get out. She ran to the front door. Turning the knob produced no results. She pulled and pulled, but the thick, wood door refused to open. Fear rose so high it threatened to overwhelm. She went to a front window. Two boys were working out in the yard. She couldn’t let them see her. She couldn’t. She ran to the back door. It refused to budge. She looked out the back window. Atim, Samuel, and Otter stood in a small city park. She called out to her boys. “I’m here! I’m here!” They didn’t react. She pounded on the windows. The boys seemed to be waiting, but they obviously couldn’t hear her increasingly frantic pleas. She banged harder on the windows. “I’m here!”
To her surprise, Chickadee came into view.
“That’s not me!” Chickadee realized she was dreaming. Suddenly, she was standing on the sidewalk.
“I’m here!” The cry echoed within her. She looked up, the brown, black, and gray of the adoption registry building stretched up into the sky.
ó
“Hey! Hey! Chickadee. You okay?” Samuel was staring down at her, concerned.
Chickadee waved him away and worked to sit up. “What?”
“You were yelling in your sleep.” Otter looked worried.
“What did I say?”
“‘I’m here,’ I think.” Atim leaned over the bed.
Chickadee looked around. The morning sun was streaming through the windows. The other Muskrats were so serious. Suddenly, she waved her arms in the air excitedly and screamed, “Help! I’m still here! I’m still here! Someone wake me up!”
The boys fell over laughing.
After the Muskrats finished giggling, Sam was still curious. “No really, what were you dreaming about?”
“Auntie Charlotte, I think. She’s here…still. She wants us to go back.” Chickadee sometimes wasn’t sure what her dreams meant, but as she said this, her heart was certain.
“Go back?” Atim wiped his sleepy eyes.
“Go back to the adoption registry with the forms.” A plan was coming together in Chickadee’s mind. “We need to get Auntie Sadie to sign them.”
“I thought Grandpa was supposed to do it.” Otter got off the fold-out and began to search the floor for cleanish clothes. The other boys did the same.
“Let’s ask her, she can look at the papers and let us know if she can do it. Cool?” Chickadee bartered.
“You know, I kinda wanted to go to the mall.” Atim smelled a sock.
“Today is our last day here. If we do it through snail mail, it will take weeks. This way, we could take Grandpa an answer tomorrow.” Chickadee’s voice held a twinge of annoyance.
Atim sighed. “Well! If it’ll help Grandpa find his sister…I can’t think of anything else I’d like to do in the city.”
“I think we need to close the circle on this….” Chickadee nodded at her cousins.
The Mighty Muskrats were off to find their final clue.
Chapter 26
A Final Journey
“We have to stop meeting like this!” Atim held his arms out wide as he walked through the door of the provincial adoption agency.
Janice was already at the counter. She smiled as she put down the paperwork she was working on. “I thought I was rid of you.” She stepped back as the Muskrats’ elbows spread over the counter.
Chickadee slapped the signed paperwork down. “We brought it, Janice! Can we get any info now?” She smiled, brightly.
“You’re not going to hold us up in red tape, are ya, Janice?” Sam teased.
Janice shook her head. It was obvious the Muskrats had reached a new comfort level with her. She held out her hand. “Let me see.” She scanned the paperwork with her finger.
As she read, Janice took out a large, steel stamp from a shelf under the counter, then carefully placed an ink pad besi
de it. “Looks like it is all here.” Her eyes crinkled as she grinned. With a flourish, she grabbed the stamp, plunged it into the ink pad, and then forcefully brought it down on the form. She studied the stamp on the paper and, once satisfied, tossed it over her shoulder. The Muskrats cheered.
“Mrs. Yenna isn’t here, obviously,” Janice faux whispered as she hid her mouth from a non-existing listener. “Easy to be brave.”
The Muskrats laughed.
“Okay. How can you help us?” Atim tapped the back of the computer screen.
“Of course, Mr. All-business.” She looked at Atim from the edge of her eye as she took the chair behind the computer. “I was looking at her file earlier. I did another search for students from Windy Lake, crossed with paperwork that started in Alberta. I got a new name, Joan Stewart. Stewart is the surname of the older lady who first adopted her.”
“Really?” Chickadee leaned in.
“Eventually, she was given to Mrs. Stewart’s daughter. She owned a farm, had two boys of her own, and a husband. But Joan started running away. So, she was adopted by another family, the Bauman’s. Joan, I mean Charlotte, lived there for a few years, but started running away again. It looks like her file was closed shortly after she turned sixteen.”
“At sixteen? Why then?” Samuel spoke over the passing rumble of a bus.
“Not sure.” Janice shrugged. “But fifty years ago, there were girls getting married at sixteen. If she married, she’d be considered an adult.”
“You wouldn’t want to drive us to Alberta, would ya?” Atim smiled at Janice.
“I don’t think we’re going to learn anything else unless we go there.” Samuel pinched his chin as he thought.
“There’s nothing there that says she’s looking for Grandpa?” Chickadee’s voice was not quite squeezed of hope.
Janice looked at Chickadee and slowly shook her head. “There is no indication that she reached out, but there is an e-mail here, from a Christina Bauman.” Janice grabbed the pad beside the computer and wrote out a name and an e-mail address.
The Case of the Missing Auntie Page 10
