Inside the house, Grandpa seemed to shrink.
Chickadee squeezed her Elder’s hand. “We can stop, Grandpa!” Her eyes filled with tears as she watched the pain in his face.
“No!” Grandpa suddenly tried to stand up. Chickadee and Otter helped him rise. He indicated he wanted to head toward the door, so Chickadee stepped back.
“This is good. For both of us.” Grandpa moved quickly to the entrance. The determined leader in him was back. The family made a path for their Elder, Otter, and Chickadee. They followed Grandpa as he walked outside in his hide slippers. Once in the backyard, he looked around for Samuel, found him, and made a beeline for the tablet.
“Let me see her.” Grandpa held out his hand. Samuel handed him the screen. The family gathered around their Elder and the Muskrats.
Grandpa sighed. And then he turned the tablet to his face and looked into the eyes of the lady in Alberta.
“Hello, Ms. Bauman. I am Charlotte’s older brother. I…I want to thank you…for loving her. For being there when we could not be there.” Grandpa stopped, obviously, trying to maintain control. His eyes filled to the brim with tears, but they did not spill over.
Christina covered her mouth with her hand and began to cry again. “I’m sorry….” Her shoulders shook.
“Do not be sorry. You showed her love. They took her from us. They gave her to people who did not love her…” Grandpa shook his head. “When her path crossed yours, you did what you could to help her, not for what she could do for you, but because she was a young girl who needed love. Thank you for that.”
Ms. Bauman seemed slightly stronger. She smiled at Grandpa through the tears. “She was such a beautiful soul….” Her mouth twisted sadly. She almost started to cry again, but she straightened herself.
“She was.” Grandpa smiled.
“I am so sorry for your loss.” Christina’s lips tightened for a moment, but she smiled again. “But…it looks like you have a lot of family to support you.”
Grandpa looked around him at his adult children, their spouses, and his grandchildren.
“I do.” He nodded at them all. His eyes finally fell on the Muskrats. He motioned to them. “Gather ’round me, Muskrats. Let’s do a, what do you call it? A selfie.”
Chickadee, Otter, Samuel, and Atim gathered around their Elder and looked into the camera.
“Can you see them?” Grandpa asked.
Otter pointed to the little square that showed their faces.
“Oh. There we are. I need longer arms.” Grandpa chuckled. The Muskrats squeezed close to their Elder.
“See them?” Grandpa said proudly.
“I see them. Is that Chickadee?” Christina waved at them from the screen.
“These are the ones who brought you to me,” Grandpa said proudly.
“Hello! Thank you, children.” Ms. Bauman smiled at them.
“Our community calls them the Mighty Muskrats,” Grandpa told her.
Ms. Bauman laughed. “Is that a good name?”
Grandpa and the rest of the family guffawed.
“I think someone was trying to be funny when they gave them that one.” Grandpa looked at each of the Muskrats in turn. “But I think it is a good name. The muskrat fed us when bigger game was scarce. Its fur kept us warm. Back in the old days, the muskrat was like our macaroni-and-cheese—easy to prepare comfort food.”
Grandpa beamed at the lady in Alberta. “Humble though it was, the muskrat helped us through the tough times. And these ones…” he playfully shook Otter in a one-armed hug, “…these ones found my lost sister. These little Muskrats helped me close a hole in my heart. They brought us you, Charlotte’s sister. And now, it looks like the Muskrats have a new auntie.”
Ms. Bauman covered her mouth, took a deep breath, held it, and then let it out slowly.
“I…would be honored to be a part of Charlotte’s family. I would love to get to know you all better.” Ms. Bauman’s smile seemed to shine right from her heart.
“Hey!” Mr. Ferland was on his back porch, looking over at the family. “What are you guys all doing in the backyard?”
A chorus of “Oh!” “Eyee-ahh!” and “Oh, heck!” went up from the family, and they all turned and started heading back to the house.
“Remember, we’re…uh…borrowing the Ferland’s WiFi, Grandpa!” Sam whispered in his Elder’s ear.
Grandpa’s eyebrows shot up. He looked at Ms. Bauman. “Welcome to the family! Chickadee will e-mail you! We’ve got to go now!” Grandpa gave a quick smile and then handed the tablet to Samuel.
Ms. Bauman put up a weak protest to Grandpa leaving. The screen was starting to freeze in quick blinks.
“Sorry, Ms. Bauman! Our…the WiFi signal is getting weak. Chickadee will e-mail you!” Sam yelled.
The screen went black. Samuel was suddenly looking at the FaceTime call disconnected page. He unplugged the cord that led through the window to the television and caught up to the other Muskrats helping their Elder into the house.
Grandpa’s door gave its customary complaint as they entered. On the inside, the family had all stopped and turned, now forming a gauntlet of congratulations and kudos. The uncles slapped the Muskrats on the back and the aunties embraced them as they followed the family patriarch. Denice hugged them all roughly. Everyone was happy to know about Auntie Charlotte. She had gone on her final journey, but it was obvious that she was still a part of the family.
At the end of the line, Grandpa turned and gave the four of them a big hug. His smile was legendary. Their hearts were bursting with love and pride. When he let them go, their Elder kept them close and whispered, “Little ones, you found out what happened to my lost sister…and you brought me a new one. Thank you. Thank you, my Mighty Muskrats.”
Epilogue
“Make sure those are healthy Grandfathers before you put them on the fire!”
Grandpa yelled the caution at Mark and Otter in the distance as they picked through a pile of rocks for ones suitable for heating within the steam-filled sweat lodge. The stones had to be the right kind, strong enough not to crack in the fire or burst when water was poured over them. Many First Nations called such stones “grandfathers” as a show of respect for the sweat lodge and its teachings.
Not so far away, Atim and Samuel cut wood and kindling for an extended fire. Chickadee was preparing the picnic table area outside the Cultural Camp’s kitchen where the feast was being prepared. The plywood building was painted red and rested on cinder blocks. It was one of the few roofed buildings among the many family teepees.
“I want everything to be ready for my sisters.” Grandpa smiled as he brought out tablecloths from the kitchen.
“It’s good of you to bring Ms. Bauman into the family.” Chickadee used a stick to remove a blackened kettle from over the cooking fire. She placed it on a counter that had been built along the outside kitchen wall. With a cloth to protect her hand from the heat, she poured the hot water over a tea bag in a large mug, and then put it on the picnic table near her grandfather. The old man sat on the bench but didn’t put his legs under the table.
“She was my sister’s sister. And she has told me that she also dreams of Charlotte, like you, little one.” Grandpa spooned a touch of sugar into his tea.
“Yeah, I still dream of her. It’s like she is calling to me. It can be emotional sometimes.” Chickadee spoke quietly as she looked at her feet.
“It is time for the both of you to let her go.” Grandpa shrugged. “She needed to speak loudly to connect you two, but now, we are all coming together. Her work on this earth is done, but she is still echoing in both your hearts. All of you must go your separate ways. You will come into the sweat with us.”
“The sweat? Really?” Chickadee was happily surprised. In her family, a girl’s first sweat was usually during her Mother Bear teachings, the lessons the famil
y Grandmothers taught her when she reached womanhood.
“It’s important for you and Ms. Bauman to sweat together and you can sing your auntie Charlotte along on her next journey. It is obvious she has chosen to be a helper for the family from the other side, but it is time for you both to let her go.” Grandpa took a sip of his tea.
“This is all so strange, Grandpa. How we lost her. How we found her. Why did they take her in the first place, Grandpa?”
“Because they are the land they live on.” Grandpa smiled. “The city tells its people a story like all landscapes. But the story of the city is the story of man, not Mother Earth. The ant in the anthill never forgets that it is one for all, but the man in the city is easily convinced it is all for one. And when it is all for one, there is no room for others.”
“But the city people say they’re just trying to make a better life for themselves. Isn’t that what we’re all supposed to be doing?” Chickadee really wanted to understand where the colonialists went wrong in how they treated her people.
“Do you think the Sacred Teachings like Respect and Kindness are just nice ways to treat each other?” Grandpa smiled at Chickadee when a look of surprise crossed her face. “Yesterday, today, and tomorrow, they are laws of nature. If these laws are broken, it creates an imbalance, a loss of center. Do you understand?”
Chickadee nodded, and Grandpa continued.
“It’s good to build a better life for your children. But you must always respect others’ rights to build a better life for their children. To do that, they must have their own languages, laws, and lands. That is where the English, the French, and Canada went wrong. When they took away our ability to live our cultures and teach them to our children, the Settlers strayed from the right path. When the city people wanted to control our way of life, First Nations children—our brothers and sisters and cousins—paid the price.”
“And Auntie Charlotte?”
“And, yes, my little sister, Charlotte. It will take me a lifetime to heal. I passed my pain down to my children, I know I did. It will take some time for our family to find balance.”
“Can I do anything, Grandpa? To help us heal?”
“A good start would be making sure that you and your children can one day speak to their Elders in Cree. Understand our teachings, our laws, in our own languages.”
“Will the city people support that?” Chickadee wondered out loud.
Grandpa shook his head. “I’m not sure, but both First Nations and Canadians need a lot of healing. All I know? The road signs to reconciliation around Windy Lake better be written in Cree.” Grandpa laughed and slapped his granddaughter’s shoulder. Chickadee giggled.
A snap and crackle through the trees told them a car was about to turn off the gravel road. Grandpa and Chickadee watched as a small SUV pulled into the driveway. The other Muskrats stopped what they were doing and joined them. As the vehicle bounced over the muddy path, Grandpa and the Muskrats could see that Christina Bauman had finally arrived from Alberta.
“There is a lot to do to repair the relationship. But Charlotte has brought us someone she loved. Right?”
The Mighty Muskrats smiled at their Elder and nodded enthusiastically. Grandpa smiled back and then turned toward his guest.
“Okay, let’s go meet your new auntie, Christina.”
About the author
Michael Hutchinson is a citizen of the Misipawistik Cree Nation in the Treaty 5 territory, north of Winnipeg. As a teen, he pulled nets on Lake Winnipeg, fought forest fires in the Canadian Shield, and worked at the Whiteshell Nuclear Research Station’s Underground Research Lab. As a young adult, he worked as a bartender, a caterer for rock concerts and movie shoots, and, eventually, as a print reporter for publications such as The Calgary Straight and Aboriginal Times. After being headhunted by the Indian Claims Commission, Michael moved from journalism to the communications side of the desk and worked for the ICC in Ottawa as a writer. He returned to his home province to start a family. Since then, he has worked as the Director of Communications for the Assembly of Manitoba Chiefs, and as a project manager for the Treaty Relations Commission of Manitoba, where he helped create the “We are all treaty people” campaign. Over seven years ago, he jumped at the chance to make mini-documentaries for the first season of APTN Investigates. Michael then became host of APTN National News and produced APTN’s sit-down interview show, Face to Face, and APTN’s version of Politically Incorrect, The Laughing Drum. Michael was recently in charge of communications for the Manitoba Keewatinowi Okimakanak, an advocacy organization for First Nations in northern Manitoba. He currently lives in Ottawa, Ontario where he works in communications for the Assembly of First Nations, which advocates for First Nation families and communities across Canada. His greatest accomplishments are his two lovely daughters.
Copyright
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Title: The case of the missing auntie / Michael Hutchinson.
Names: Hutchinson, Michael, 1971- author.
Series: Hutchinson, Michael, 1971- Mighty Muskrats mystery ; bk. 2.
Description: Series statement: A Mighty Muskrats mystery ; book 2
Identifiers: Canadiana 20190185996 | ISBN 9781772601176 (softcover)
Classification: LCC PS8615.U827 C367 2020 | DDC jC813/.6—dc23
Copyright © 2020 by Michael Hutchinson
Cover © 2020 by Gillian Newland
Edited by Kathryn Cole and Christine Miskonoondinkwe
Printed and bound in Canada
Second Story Press gratefully acknowledges the support of the Ontario Arts Council and the Canada Council for the Arts for our publishing program. We acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund.
Published by
Second Story Press
20 Maud Street, Suite 401
Toronto, Ontario, Canada
M5V 2M5
www.secondstorypress.ca
The Case of the Missing Auntie Page 12
