by Karen Kelly
“Then you are still carrying on a tradition of your family and honoring your grandmother, as well. Charlie was always proud of you.”
“And he always communicated that to me as I was growing up. A blessing I want to pass on to my own grandchildren. Which is one reason why I’m searching for the origin of the American Indian things I found in Gram and Grandpa’s attic. If there’s a piece of our family’s heritage I’ve missed, I want to fill it in. But I cannot imagine either of my grandparents keeping hidden any part of our heritage.”
“I spent many hours swapping stories with Charlie as we attended mares or cattle in labor. I am sure there is no actual Passamaquoddy blood in your family. But in spirit I will always call Charlie Holden my brother.”
Annie opened her purse, took the packet of photos from a side pocket and handed them to Cecil. “Do you recognize either of these things?”
Shading the photos with one hand, Cecil carefully examined first the photos of the box and then the regalia collar. “I am sorry to say I have not seen these before. It is clear they were both made by masters. The birch-bark box has many characteristics of those created by Tomah Joseph.”
“I saw some of his pieces at the Abbe Museum. I thought I noticed a similarity. But I know so little,” said Annie.
“Tomah was the first to sign and date his pieces, or sometimes he would etch ‘mikwid hamid’ on them.”
“What does that mean?”
“Roughly it translates to ‘remember me.’”
Annie gazed out over the water, wondering how she could possibly communicate her thoughts after all she had learned the day before. She said simply, “Volumes ring from just two words.”
“Yes.” Cecil also paused before continuing, examining the photo of the box again. “It looks as though this box was unsigned. It could still be a work of Tomah’s or possibly the elder who taught him. It is the work of a Passamaquoddy.”
“And the collar?”
“I have not seen this particular combination of colors and pattern. It also looks quite old. Was the fabric used for the base faded?”
“A little, yes.”
“I grew up on the reservation at Pleasant Point. We were not a large tribe by then, and I knew most of the families and the look of their regalia. It was and is an important part of our life. But many people did not stay on the Pleasant Point Reservation, or they lived in Indian Township. The creator may have lived anywhere. How these came to be in your grandparents’ attic … well, Keluwosit himself may need to send us the answer.” Annie knew from her time at the library that Keluwosit was the Great Spirit and Creator of the Passamaquoddy tradition. She smiled and nodded at Cecil’s words.
“Oh.” Annie remembered the poem and gave Cecil the printed copy of it. “I also found part of a poem inside the box. I wrote out another copy because the paper was fragile. Here’s a photo of the script. I couldn’t find any citing of the lines on the Internet or at the library.”
Annie watched the seals as Cecil examined the handwriting and the lines. She had missed the nursery period for new pups by a few weeks, but some seals were still molting and “hauled out” onto beaches and ledges during the process.
Cecil raised his head and handed her the photo. “The handwriting looks like the writer could have been taught at a reservation school. The teachers often went to great lengths to anglicize their students. Developing what they called ‘a fine hand’ was part of that.”
“Do you think it’s a private poem?”
“That would be my guess, yes. The heart of a woman with one foot each in two different worlds formed this poem. It is what I hear.”
Annie nodded again, taking the poem Cecil held out to her and tucking it away in her purse. “It doesn’t sound to me like she was forced out of her first world, but that she chose to leave for love. What more can I do to discover where these things came from?”
“Outside of my family, I know of no other registered Passamaquoddy tribe member in Stony Point. But perhaps you could post a description of the collar and box on a genealogy website. I have known people to find parts of their family they didn’t know they had lost.”
“That’s an excellent idea, Cecil! I’ll do that this week.” From the direction of the Ocean View main building came the clanging of a heavy bell.
“Lunchtime has come rapidly today, thanks to Charlie Holden’s granddaughter.” Cecil grinned as he stood and extended his right arm to Annie. “May I escort you up the path?”
Annie took his arm. “I’d be delighted. What a wonderful day to meet one of Gram’s and Grandpa’s friends.” She wondered if Ian had known the connection between Cecil and her grandparents. Not one to believe in chance, she decided to simply be thankful for the gift.
“Now that you have, may our paths merge more often.” Cecil moved up the stone walk easily, using the walking stick to test the pathway ahead of them.
“I would enjoy that, Cecil. It’s not easy these days to find a fellow reader of Kipling.”
After walking Cecil to the dining room, Annie drove back toward Grey Gables, letting the morning’s experience sink into her. On her drive to Ocean View, she had hoped for either an answer to the origin of the box and collar, or direction on which way to go next. As she left Ocean View behind, she knew she actually had obtained much more. Yes, Cecil’s suggestion about a genealogy website would be her next step, and Annie was excited to be tossing out a wider net. Of far more worth was the discovery of Cecil himself and his friendship with Grandpa and Gram. Many people of Stony Point had shared stories and remembrances of Betsy Holden and her gentle touch of grace. Annie loved Grandpa just as deeply, and the stories of Charlie Holden had been more rare. She craved more. Cecil was a memory keeper too, she was convinced, and she looked forward to learning more about him, his family, and his friendship with her grandfather.
Her pondering fueled her trip home. As she came to the long driveway of Grey Gables, she knew she had to share what she had learned that morning with Alice. She pulled the Malibu behind Alice’s Mustang, which was parked in front of the carriage house. The windows of the charming, small building were open, and, as Annie came closer to it, she could hear both U2’s “Vertigo” and the sounds of movement near the window to the right of the door. If Alice didn’t hear her knock on the door, she figured she’d just tiptoe through the flowers and shout through the window.
After thirty seconds of banging, the music lowered. Then the door opened to reveal Alice cradling her caulk gun. Annie put her hands on the top of her head. “I am unarmed, and I come in peace!”
Alice patted the gun like it was a favorite puppy. “Got any leaks? I’ll come fix ’em for you. I’m getting the hang of this baby.”
“You remind me of the old Rosie the Riveter posters. Would Rosie be interested in some pasta salad for lunch? It’s waiting in the fridge.”
“Rosie will be over as soon as she gets the caulk out from under her nails.” Alice laid the caulk gun down on the seat of the hall tree. At least I got more into the cracks of the windows than I did on myself—I think!”
“After lunch, would you be up for a trip to A Stitch in Time? I want to give myself plenty of time for the project.”
“If you’ll help me decide what I’m going to make, I would. I have some ideas, but I need to pick one and run with it.” Alice took the ball cap off her head, shaking her hair free. “I’ll be over in thirty minutes.”
“That will give me time to pick some fresh basil to add to the salad. See you soon!”
9
“Fresh basil in pasta salad is heavenly,” Alice declared after taking her first bite.
“I hope I can keep the herbs growing in the kitchen as it gets colder,” said Annie. “There’s just no substitute for fresh.” Annie gently tossed her salad to more evenly distribute the basil she had added. “I can hardly believe autumn is right on the doorstep. The twins started kindergarten this week! Of course, the school year usually starts a little earlier in the South.”
“Harvest on the Harbor is going to be here before we know it, and I’m still undecided on my project.” Alice snagged a piece of rotini and some green pepper on her fork and popped them into her mouth.
“I’m thinking about using Tunisian crochet this time,” Annie mused. “It creates this cool reversible effect. But I’m not sure what to make or how to incorporate an American Indian design.”
“I keep thinking of the quillwork. That basket with the quillwork rose was gorgeous, and I’d love to do that, but I think embroidery would do it more justice, and I’m not an expert embroiderer, by any standards.” Alice paused to sip her water. “There was a design on a birch-bark lid with leaves and a double geometric shape that looked almost like the frame of a lyre. It was so striking! But designing the shape and getting it precise enough would be tough in cross-stitch.”
Annie thought back to the day of the museum trip. “Didn’t you say something on Tuesday about a chair? Wasn’t that quillwork too?”
“That’s right! How could I forget? I sketched a pattern for it with a color code while we were at the Abbe. Be right back. Protect my lunch from Boots.” Alice left the table to rummage through her purse. She came back with a folded piece of paper. “I’m glad I haven’t changed purses this week.” Spreading the paper out, she turned it so Annie could see.
“Cross-stitch really does match that design perfectly,” Annie said after examining the design. “It would make wonderful place mats, don’t you think?”
“The shape would work well, but I’d need to find a backing thick enough to give it substance.”
“Mary Beth should have plenty of options to choose from for the right weight and texture. Making the color code was so smart.” Annie added a few twists of cracked black pepper to her salad. “Hey, maybe I could do table runners. With the reversible pattern of Tunisian crochet, it would be like getting two table runners in one. What do you think?”
“Both items are sure sellers for harvesttime. People like to do up their tables for the holidays or add accessories like pillows.”
“And you should know, Miss Divine Décor.”
“Yes, I should. And in my expert opinion, your table-runner idea is the one to run with.” Alice almost managed not to smirk at her awful pun. She turned her attention to chasing a black olive around her plate with her fork.
“Would you mind if we stopped at the library before A Stitch in Time?” asked Annie. “Cecil gave me a great suggestion this morning, to post descriptions of the box and regalia collar on some safe genealogy websites.”
“Don’t mind at all. I have some new catalogs I can drop off for Grace and Josephine. I’ll just need to duck into the house to grab them before we leave for town. I want to hear all about your visit with Cecil.” Alice scooped up the remaining bits of vegetables on her plate. “I’ll drive.”
“And I’ll let you. Let’s get going, I want to have plenty of time to browse around for our supplies and get some tips from Kate, if she’s working this afternoon.” The friends tidied up the kitchen, made sure to give Boots a little attention, and hurried on their way.
By three thirty, Alice knew all the details of Annie’s visit with Cecil and his connection to the Holdens; Grace and Josephine had their new Divine Décor and Princessa catalogs; and Annie had posted her questions on four different genealogy websites after doing a little research to make sure they were safe. Alice and Annie still had plenty of time to explore their options at A Stitch in Time. As they entered their favorite store, Annie was pleased to see Kate behind the counter. She was saying into the phone, “Yes, we do carry square knitting needles. We are open 9 to 6, Monday through Friday and 9 to 4 on Saturday. … You’re very welcome.” She replaced the handset into its cradle and smiled. “Hi, Alice and Annie. May I help you with anything? Mary Beth is in the office, working on the books.”
“We’ll have to make sure to say hi to her before we leave. After years of doing the books for our car dealership, I know how lonely it can get back there in the office,” said Annie.
“Why do you think I do so much baking? I’m stockpiling comfort foods for when I have to do the paperwork for my business!” Alice grimaced.
“I’m sure Mary Beth will be happy to have a little company by then,” Kate agreed. “Have you made your decisions about the Harvest project?”
“We’ve made some basic plans, but I think we could both use some help with the details,” Annie answered. “Alice is farther along in her decisions than I am, so perhaps she should go first. Then she can be gathering up her supplies while you help me narrow things down.”
Kate nodded. “All right, Alice. What are you going to make with your wonderful cross-stitch?” She moved from behind the counter.
“I’d like to do place mats using the pattern I saw on the quillwork chair cushions, but I need to figure out what to use for the backing because I don’t want them to be too flimsy.” Alice handed Kate the pattern she had made.
“Alice, the customers will love this! Let me show you some fabric choices for the backing. What I have in mind will give the mats enough substance but will also wash well.” She led Alice over to a wall of display boxes filled with different fabrics for quilters, crafters, and the adventuresome cross-stitcher. “Did you have a color in mind?”
“I want to stick as close to the colors in the panels as I can.” Alice pointed toward the middle of her design. “These triangles, as well as this center diamond, are indigo, and I’m thinking an indigo backing would provide contrast for the lighter colors of sage and gold while drawing out those pops of dark blue and also the red.” She glanced at Kate’s face, gauging her reaction.
“I absolutely agree with you there, Alice.” Kate ran her eyes over the bolts of fabric and then pulled one from the mix, turning it to unwrap a section. “How does this one feel to you?”
Alice rubbed the fabric between her thumb and index finger, and then spread the fabric over her hand. “I think this is it. Cut enough for twenty-four place mats.”
“You’re ambitious!” Kate exclaimed as she took the fabric over to the cutting table. She flipped the bolt until she had unwrapped the needed length and took up the large fabric sheers for the cutting.
“Or crazy,” said Alice. “But I have a lot of demonstrations during the month, and cross-stitching is how I relax after them. A cup of tea, a DVD or music, and cross-stitch.”
“Mary Beth will be very appreciative of the results of all your relaxation.” Kate smiled as she folded the cut fabric. “I can’t wait to see all the different contributions on display.”
“I know I’m looking forward to seeing your contribution,” said Alice. From behind a rack of pattern books Annie’s voice chimed. “I second that! What are you making, Kate?”
“You two really know how to stroke a woman’s ego. I’m making a shawl with a tree pattern that uses positive and negative space to create both the tree and a reflection. The color I’ll leave as a surprise.”
“Which means we can be sure it won’t be green,” guessed Alice.
“You’ll just have to wait and see.” Kate neatly folded the indigo fabric, printed out the yardage and per-unit price, and pinned it to the fabric. “You have plenty to keep you busy while you’re waiting to see it.”
“My inspiration now has a plan, thanks to you and Annie. Now it’s her turn, and I’ll go pick out my floss and aida cloth. I get the same rush pulling my colors that I do deciding on a flavor of ice cream at Tanner’s Dairy.” Alice rubbed her hands together like a child filled with anticipation.
“And you can pick as many as you want without worrying about their glycemic index,” said Kate.
“Their what?” Alice raised an eyebrow. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. I’m having too much fun, and color is calling.” She hurried over to the floss display and was soon deep in concentration.
“Annie, what ideas have you gathered so far?” Kate set Alice’s fabric on the counter next to the register.
“
Well, I’m warning you, my inspiration is much less focused than Alice’s,” Annie confessed. “I’ve been a little preoccupied. At Abbe Museum, I tried to take in information for both the project and the mystery. The result is mishmash soup on the brain. But I’ve been thinking about using Tunisian crochet. It’s been a while since I used that method, and I enjoyed the process.”
“In the hands of someone with your experience, a Tunisian piece is sure to be an interesting addition to the project,” said Kate. “So are you thinking of doing a piece where the reversibility would be highlighted?”
“When Alice and I were talking about it over lunch, I was thinking of making table runners. It would be like the customer’s getting two for the price of one. But I’m not sure what kind of pattern to use for it that would be distinctively Maine American Indian style.”
“Were there any museum displays that caught your eye and could be worked in Tunisian?” asked Kate.
“What didn’t catch my eye,” Annie answered ruefully. “But I’m boggled as to how to recreate most of the patterns in Tunisian.” Annie fingered a soft skein of pink bamboo yarn as she thought. “Did you see the sea urchin baskets in the museum gift shop?”
“Yes! Very striking graphic and shape,” answered Kate.
“I think I could do that in Tunisian, and the reverse would be so interesting. But I doubt it will translate to a flat piece like a runner, now that I think about it more.”
Kate bent to pluck some renegade wool fuzz from a basket display of large knitting needles. “I see your point. The graphic would still be interesting, I think, but the inspiration could be obscured. Have you thought of doing round Tunisian crochet pillows? That might translate better than a totally flat piece.”
“Hmmm, no, I hadn’t.” Annie moved on to another skein, this time a silver, alpaca wool, as she thought. “Do you think if I make two pieces in Tunisian crochet with all the rounds the same, and then use the reverse side for the pillow back, that it will work? I saw urchin baskets using combinations of natural reed with taupe stripes and natural with navy stripes. It would be fun to do some of both.”
