The Eclipse of Moonbeam Dawson

by Jean Davies Okimoto

  Moonbeam sat next to Harvey where he had the best view of the table of girls.

  “Glad I came by. Where you heading?”

  “Maybe the Gulf Islands,” Abby told him.

  “Definitely the Gulf Islands.” Moonbeam took a big bite of the hamburger. Abby clenched her teeth and wouldn’t look at him. “The only thing we’re not sure about is which one.”

  “You from around here?” Harvey sipped his coffee.

  “We lived on Heather Mountain for the last five years.” She took a bite of her salad. “Before that, Victoria for a while, before that, Heather Mountain.”

  “Heather Mountain? Not much up there.”

  “It was a commune.”

  “Didn’t work out, eh?”

  “They took a vow of nonviolence and said the place was a nuclear free zone,” Moonbeam explained. “But then there was this big fight and some people started bashing each other with shovels.”

  “The land was owned by a man who inherited it from his father. He told everyone to clear out.” Abby looked sad. “The first time we lived off the land like that, the weather got us. The crops froze and we couldn’t make it. But I never thought it would end because the people couldn’t get along.” Abby stared out the window for a moment, lost in thought.

  Moonbeam gazed at the girls, wondering what it would be like to go to school with a bunch of them like that.

  Abby sighed, then looked at Harvey. “What about you? Where you from?”

  Moonbeam chewed slowly, trying to enjoy each bite. Meat tasted better when his mother wasn’t sitting right there clenching her teeth. Then he looked over at the girls again. The one with the curly brown hair was really fine.

  “Toronto originally. But I got sick of the rat race. Been in Tofino the past two years.”

  Abby nodded. “I don’t think I could go back to a city. I’m from Seattle originally.”

  Weird. She hardly ever tells anybody she’s from the states. Moonbeam looked at the girls. The one at the end with the blue sweatshirt was really something.

  “Yankee, eh?”

  “I just claim Canadian now. You used to be able to have dual citizenship even if you weren’t born in Canada, if one parent was Canadian. My father’s American, my mother was from Vancouver.”

  “Been up here long?”

  “Since college.”

  What is he, a reporter or something? What a nosy guy. Moonbeam sipped his Coke. The one in the middle in the tight sweater wasn’t bad either.

  “What do you do in Tofino?” she asked.

  “I’m with the Clayoquot Biosphere Project.”

  “Part of Friends of Clayoquot Sound?” Abby broke off a little piece of the roll and popped it in her mouth. “We were there in ninety-three for the protests.”

  “The biosphere project’s strictly scientific. But I was in the protests in ninety-three. Most everyone in town was.”

  Abby smiled at him. “Maybe we already met, but didn’t remember.”

  “No.” He smiled, leaning across the table. “I wouldn’t have forgotten if I met you.”

  Abby laughed, flattered.

  “I was there, too.” Moonbeam piped up, then took another big bite, chewing noisily. “Only they didn’t arrest me, just Mum.”

  “Actually, I was considering heading to the coast to Tofino, but I thought we’d have a better chance of finding work in the Gulf Islands. I want to work outdoors, but we’ll take whatever we can get.”

  “There’s a new lodge opening on Stere Island.”

  “Where’s that?” Abby seemed interested.

  “We’re going to the Gulf Islands, Mum,” Moonbeam reminded her.

  “It’s west of Tofino. The land’s being leased from the Clayoquot band. It’s part of the Nuu-chah-nulth efforts to develop economically. I think indigenous people get priority in hiring, but the jobs are open to non Native people, too.”

  “Moonbeam might get priority. He’s half Haida.”

  Fine. Just tell him our whole life story why don’t you? And NOT ONE WORD about my name, buddy. Moonbeam looked over at the girls. The first thing he was going to do when they got to the gulf islands was change his name. He’d been thinking about it for a long time and now that they were leaving Heather Mountain it was the perfect time to do it. He’d have some good regular name, so when he met girls his age at least he wouldn’t have that to worry about.

  “It’s a really posh place,” Harvey continued. “Caters to rich tourists. I’m pretty sure they’re hiring now.” He took a last sip of his coffee. “Well, got to get on my way.”

  Harvey stood up and hesitated by the table. “Look me up if you ever get to Tofino. I’m the only Harvey Hattenbach.”

  “Thanks. And thanks again for everything.” Abby smiled, then glared at Moonbeam, kicking him under the table.

  “Yeah, thanks,” Moonbeam muttered.

  “And if you want to check out that new lodge, let me know. The manager’s a friend of mine.”

  “Great. Thanks.” Abby looked up at him, smiling gratefully. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this, Harvey,” she said softly.

  Oh yuk, gag. Just leave, buddy.

  Abby watched him as he walked across the restaurant and out the door. She grinned and gave a thumbs-up to Harvey as he waved to them from the parking lot.

  “Guess we better go, too, eh?” Abby sighed, then crunched up her napkin and put it on her tray. “Ready?”

  “I’ve been ready for the past fifteen minutes. You’re the one that kept talking to that guy.”

  “He was very nice.”

  “The sun’s going down. It’s going to be a hassle getting the tent up.”

  “We’ve put it up before in the dark.”

  “Yeah. And it’s a hassle.”

  Moonbeam stood up and glanced at the group of girls. He wished he could get up the nerve to smile at one of them as they walked by their table. But instead he just looked at the floor. This is going to change, he told himself. When they got to the Gulf Islands, he wouldn’t have to look at the floor. He’d have his new name and he’d get a lot of practice talking to girls. It would be great.

  At the gas station, Abby and Moonbeam got the truck and it started without a hitch. As they headed out on the Alberni Highway, Moonbeam began to think seriously about what he wanted his new name to be. He wanted something regular, maybe like Bob, Bill, John, Tom, Jim, or Tim. He’d have to try out each one. Maybe write them down and pick the best.

  Abby started to hum. Whenever they drove any distance, she either sang or hummed the same melody. It was “Peace Train,” a tune which she considered her exclusive road trip theme song. Usually after about five miles of “Peace Train” Moonbeam was ready to throw himself screaming from the truck and hitchhike. He liked to imagine the wonderful people who would pick him up. People who didn’t sing “Peace Train.” People with beautiful daughters his age.

  The sun was setting by the time they reached China Creek Park. Moonbeam carried the tent to a campsite. “If we’d gotten an early start and the battery checked, we’d be on the ferry now,” he grumbled.

  “Not necessarily.” Abby helped him lay out the tent. “If the battery died on the back road out of Heather Mountain we might have still been there.”

  “Maybe.” He was too tired to argue. She always had an answer for everything. Whatever his mother did, even if it turned out to be totally dumb, she always had some reason why it was okay. Not an excuse, but a reason.

  Moonbeam pounded in the last stake, then got their sleeping bags out of the truck.

  “I’m glad this park’s got a shower. I’ll wash this mess in the morning.” Abby pulled off the woven scrunchy that held back her hair and ran her hands through the long, brownish-blond strands. “Too tired tonight.” She turned up the collar of her flannel shirt and crawled in her sleeping bag, pulling it tight around her. “Night, honey.”

  “Night, Mum.” Moonbeam got in his bag and lay there, looking up at the roof of the tent. It defi
nitely was sagging a bit. He hoped the stupid thing didn’t collapse.

  His mother started snoring. She was out all right. He edged down in his sleeping bag, but it was a chilly night and he couldn’t get warm. Better go to the truck and get a sweatshirt.

  Moonbeam stood over the truck bed and dug through his backpack. Yanking out his sweatshirt, he put his arms in the sleeves and lifted it to pull it over his head, then stopped for a minute to look up at the sky. The stars were brilliant. Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky. He remembered singing with the little kids the night they all lay in the field on Heather Mountain learning about the planets, huddled together in a heap, like puppies.

  He pulled on his sweatshirt and looked across at their tent. It looked so small sitting there alone in the campground dwarfed by the mammoth trees. He rubbed his hands together and blew on them to get warm, then went back to the tent.

  Opening the flap, he saw that his mother was sleeping soundly. He took one last look at the stars. He could see Orion’s belt and opposite the handle in the bowl of the Big Dipper the pointer stars were shining clearly, pointing the way to Polaris, the north star. Moonbeam stood outside the tent for a minute, wondering which one of the Gulf Islands he’d be living on the next time he looked up at the stars.

  Chapter Two

  “Oh, rats.” Abby propped herself up in her sleeping bag as she heard rain against the tent. She listened to its steady drumming for a minute, then sighed and glanced over at the lanky heap in the sleeping bag next to her, now visible as the gray light of dawn seeped under the front flap. Moonbeam slept quietly, facing the wall of the tent with his back toward her. Only the top of his head protruded from the blue nylon cocoon.

  “Moonbeam.” She poked his shoulder.

  Silence.

  “Moonbeam.” She poked harder.

  “Mmrggh.”

  “Moonbeam, it’s raining.” More poking.

  “Gghrmp.” He grunted, batting her arm away like a pesky mosquito.

  Abby grabbed her gumboots and banged them together over the top of his head.

  “What the…” He opened his eyes, startled to see the black rubber boots hanging over him, inches from his nose. He swatted them away, sat up, and glowered at her.

  “Your alarm clock.” She smiled sweetly, dangling the boots.

  “Couldn’t you sing or something?”

  “It’s raining.” Abby wiggled out of her sleeping bag and began pulling on her boots.

  “So?”

  “So, what do you think we should do?”

  “Well,” he snarled, “I don’t think we can stop the rain, Mum.”

  “Don’t be sarcastic. What I mean is, should we pack up and leave now, or wait a bit and see if it stops?”

  “We could wait here all day for it to stop!”

  “I didn’t say all day, I said just wait a bit.”

  Abby looked away and bit her lower lip. He hated it when she did that, it was usually when he’d hurt her feelings and she’d just clam up. Go silent on him. All quiet, like her body was still there but she’d left. Her silence was a pain. Better to have her bark at him. Moonbeam pulled his legs out of the sleeping bag.

  “Okay,” she said quietly. “We’ll get going.”

  “And we need to decide which of the Gulf Islands we’re trying first. We have to know that by the time we get to the ferry.”

  “Moonbeam, I’ve been thinking—”

  “I’ll get the map.” Moonbeam pulled on his boots and left the tent. He didn’t want any more delays. It was time to get on with it. He brought the map of Vancouver Island back to the tent and spread it out on the floor at the foot of their sleeping bags.

  “Still really coming down, eh?”

  Moonbeam took off his parka and tossed it in the corner of the tent. “Yeah, probably take a bit of work to get a fire going.”

  He sat next to her, crossing his long legs. “Okay, we’re here. China Creek Park.” He pointed to a tan circle on the map on the east side of Alberni Inlet.

  “Moonbeam, I’ve been thinking. Maybe the Gulf Islands aren’t such a great idea.”

  “We already decided!”

  “Don’t yell. I’m just thinking it over.”

  “Okay, let’s think it over.” Moonbeam thought about the girls in McDonald’s. “How ’bout somewhere closer to Port Alberni, where there are more jobs.”

  “I’m not living in Port Alberni,” she said defiantly.

  Moonbeam threw his head back, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t say for us to live there. I just said—”

  “Okay, okay. All I’m saying is that we should try resort areas first.”

  “You said all that before.”

  “I’m just thinking about it again. Tourism is the biggest industry on Vancouver Island.”

  “Next to logging.”

  “Don’t remind me. Okay, second biggest. Therefore, our chances are best if we think resorts.”

  “That’s what we decided.” Moonbeam rolled his eyes, totally exasperated.

  “Like I realized yesterday, I’d only consider cooking for loggers as a last resort.” Abby paused and stared at him. “Well?”

  “Well, what?”

  “Aren’t you going to laugh at my little joke. Last resort, get it?”

  “Heh-heh.”

  “Okay, so don’t indulge me.” Abby looked at the map. “See if I’ll ever laugh again at any of your dumb jokes. Anyway, I think rather than the Gulf Islands we should try Tofino.”

  “Tofino! It takes forever to get to Victoria or Vancouver from there!”

  “It was an omen, Moonbeam.”

  “Oh, jeez. You mean that guy, Harry.”

  “Harvey. His name’s Harvey.”

  “I don’t care what his name is!”

  “I think we’re supposed to go to Tofino. His friend is the manager of that new resort and they’re hiring. How do we know the jobs aren’t all taken in the Gulf Islands?”

  “We won’t know anything until we go there and find out. What if the resort in Tofino doesn’t hire us?” Moonbeam glared at her. “What about that?”

  “There’s other places there. Bed and breakfasts and marinas and a bunch of restaurants. People have to eat.”

  “Yeah. Well, I’m hungry.”

  Abby stared at the map. “We’ll head to back to Port Alberni, then down to Tofino.”

  “I’m very hungry.”

  “We can camp at Pacific Rim Park and then call Harvey and he can—”

  “I’M STARVING!”

  “Well you don’t have to scream at me.” She folded up the map and dug through her backpack. “Here.” She pulled out a couple of apples and handed one to him. “This should take the edge off until we get to Port Alberni. We can get something at the McDonald’s and then head to Tofino.”

  * * *

  When they got to McDonald’s, Moonbeam grabbed the Alberni Valley Times from the rack next to the cash register. He was glad they were inside where it was warm; they were still damp from taking down the tent and loading it on the truck. They got their food and found a table.

  “First a cow, now a pig.” Abby munched on her cinnamon roll, looking at him with disapproval.

  Moonbeam peered over the paper. “It’s a sausage McMuffin with an egg and it’s my stomach.”

  “But who’s paying for it?”

  Moonbeam buried his head behind the paper, ignoring her. When I’m on my own I won’t have to put up with this garbage. But what if I could get a job? Really live on my own. Not have to go where she decided for once.

  He ran his finger down the Help Wanted column: Auto body repairman, Child welfare social worker position, Hair stylist apprentice, Lose all weight be paid, Part-time janitor, Baby-sitter my home, Manager trainee, Shipper/receiver, Taxi driver, Shake block cutter, Wtd: mature couple to be live-in mngrs for 37 suite apt. complex. Mature couple. Wonder what they meant by mature? Lose all weight be paid. Pretty weird. Wouldn’t a person be dead if they lost all weight
? Who’d pay for that? he wondered.

  “I hope we can make it.” A hint of worry crept into her voice. She looked out the window and took a sip of her coffee.

  Moonbeam put the paper down. “We’ve got”—he munched on his McMuffin—“plenty of gas.”

  “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

  He glared at her and wiped his mouth. “Then why start up a conversation as soon as I take a bite?”

  “Forget it. The Queen’s not here.” She winked at him.

  Moonbeam couldn’t help laughing. It was an old joke between them, gauging their behavior by whether or not the Queen of England was on the premises or about to make an appearance. Better wash your hands in case the Queen comes. Change your shirt, Her Majesty might be arriving. You look smashing, the Queen will approve.

  Abby’s smile began to fade and she turned to look out the window again. “I was thinking about money, when I said I hope we can make it.”

  “Oh, that.”

  “Yeah, that.” She sipped the last of her coffee. “We’ll have to pay rent. Which of course we didn’t have to do all the years we were on Heather Mountain, but the money my mother left me helps a bit. I wish what I make from weaving was steady enough.”

  “If wishes were horses.”

  “Right, I’d be a rich lady.”

  “Don’t forget. I’ll be getting a job, too.”

  She nodded. “I know. I’m counting on both of us.” Abby crumpled up her napkin and grabbed her jacket. “Okay, let’s go for it. On to Tofino!”

  Unless some other omen comes along and she decides she’s supposed to live in Parksville and sell Nanaimo bars at a roadside stand. Moonbeam fumed as they walked to the truck. Not because he was that upset about going to Tofino. Where they ended up wasn’t as important as what was there. Girls, and kids his own age. And Tofino was cool. He really liked it when they were there in ninety-three. True, it wasn’t as close to Vancouver as the Gulf Islands, but it would have a lot more people his age than Heather Mountain. A lot more girls, for sure. Almost any town would. No. The thing that got to him was the way the whole thing came down. Once she figured that guy from Tofino was an omen, any protest Moonbeam made would have been like spitting in the wind.

  “Now I’ve been happy lately … thinking about the good things to come…” Abby began to sing the minute they got back in the truck. Maybe someone would come and decide his mother was nuts and put him in a foster home. A nice foster home where the people had a few daughters. Maybe one who was eighteen, an older, experienced daughter who was extremely beautiful and would sneak into his room at night.