“Ouch!” A drop of bright red blood bubbled out of the wound. She stuck her finger in her mouth. “You’re not the only one with problems, Cordell Ardoin! The next book you write should be set in the South Pacific! At least we’d be warm!”
Cordell seemed not to have heard. He pulled the paper from the typewriter and scribbled a note at the left margin.
Jean-Paul tumbled with Sasha on the far side of the room. At the sound of his mother’s voice, he stopped to listen. He knew she was unhappy, being so far away from her family when a baby was coming. His father was sad sometimes, too. After a moment of listening, he pulled on his parka and took the pup outdoors. No one noticed him leave.
Outside, the dog team came alert and rose from their snow nests. Each husky pricked up its ears and wagged its tail eagerly at the sight of Jean-Paul and Sasha. They whined and danced around in the snow. “Shhh,” Jean-Paul whispered. “Go back to sleep in your snowbank. Sasha and I have something to do, and you guys can’t go.” He moved away, and Lishta whined at her pup. This time Jean-Paul was very stern. “Be quiet!” Lishta tipped her head and stared at him, puzzled. Then she lay down in the snow and put her nose on her front paws. “Good girl,” Jean-Paul said. “Stay!” Tork and Siko sat watching, picking their front paws up one at a time. Finally, they lay down and curled their brushy tails around their freezing toes.
The temperature had dropped many degrees since supper. It was crystal-cold, with snow that squeaked when walked upon. This was a night to freeze the lungs, as well as toes. Even the crescent moon looked cold and brittle enough to crack. The tiny hairs inside Jean-Paul’s nose stiffened. He hunched his face down inside his parka against the raw arctic bite.
Days were growing shorter, with fewer hours of light as time went on. The sun had already slipped below the horizon. Soon, the sun would set one last time, not to be seen again until next year. But for now, the moon and stars provided enough light for Jean-Paul to see where he was going.
Hurrying to the shed, he opened the door and went inside. It was not much warmer inside the shed than it was outdoors, except that here the wind couldn’t find him.
This was where Cordell kept his tools, traps, and other supplies. Dog harnesses hung on rusty nails along the wall nearest the door. A canoe lay upside down along another wall, waiting for summer and thawing river ice. The heating oil was stored at the rear, along with tanning supplies. Sometimes, when there were pelts drying on the racks, the shed smelled like wet fur and dried blood. There was a small oil burner that Cordell used to heat the shed. But now it was cold.
Jean-Paul felt his way through the darkened shed until he reached Cordell’s traps. Sasha sat at his feet and whined as he found the one he wanted.
“Shhh,” Jean-Paul said softly. “They mustn’t find us in here.”
In the dim light from the open door, he pulled out a large trap with a heavy spring. He knew how traps worked, because he had watched his father many times.
“Come on,” he said to the pup.
Lugging the trap outside, he closed the door again and looked toward the cabin. Cordell had not yet shuttered the windows for the coming blizzards, before the terrible winds screamed down from the north. The lamplight threw yellow patches on the snow. Jean-Paul listened for a few moments, then went up behind the shed. He knew a good place to trap near a small stream and a group of large boulders. Of course, the stream was frozen now, but animals still came there for water. It amazed Jean-Paul how they always managed to keep a hole broken in the ice so they could drink. Jean-Paul knew his father wasn’t using this spot, for Cordell had moved his own traps farther downstream several weeks ago.
When he reached the stream, Jean-Paul placed the trap on the ground and set to work baiting it. He had saved a chunk of seal meat from the team’s supper and had smuggled it into his pocket when no one was looking. Now, he worked as he had seen his father do. He struggled without his mittens until his fingers were cold and stiff. Then he warmed them inside his parka before trying again. It seemed like forever. And, besides, he had a frisky pup getting in his way.
“No, Sasha! You can’t have this meat!” he scolded. “It’s for the fox. And don’t come too close, unless you want your toes chopped off.”
Finally, the trap was set, and Jean-Paul hid it between two small rocks. He only hoped a fox would find it, and not his father. He called to Sasha, and she tumbled along beside him as he trudged through the cold and snow back to the cabin.
When Jean-Paul entered the cabin and removed his parka, his mother looked up from her sewing and frowned. “Where have you been?”
Jean-Paul’s cheeks were red and so cold that they burned. He went to the stove to get warm. He didn’t look at his mother. “Just outdoors with the dogs.”
Cordell rose from his desk chair and came over to Jean-Paul, standing tall above him, hand on his hips. Jean-Paul knew that when Cordell looked down at somebody with his hands on his hips, that somebody was really going to get it.
“It’s the second time in two days that you left without telling us where you were going!” said Cordell.
Jean-Paul glanced up quickly, then back to the stove. “Yes, sir,” he said in a small voice.
“Yes sir? Is that all you’ve got to say, Jean-Paul? You know we have a deal! When any of us goes out at night for any reason, we’re supposed to let someone know where we’re going!”
“Yes, sir.” If they hadn’t been so busy they would have seen me leave!
His father continued, “In this country, we need to keep an eye out for each other, eh? Where were you, son? You weren’t out with the team, because I looked.”
Jean-Paul gulped and looked his father straight in the eye. “I—I just took Sasha out for a run.” It was the third lie he had told in two days. “We went up behind the shed ... and played in the snow.”
Cordell lost his anger. He reached out and ruffled Jean-Paul’s hair. “I don’t mind your being out there when it’s daylight, close by. But a lot can happen in the dark. You could freeze to death or slip into a snowdrift.” Jean-Paul had already heard all this, a hundred times it seemed. “I suppose that when the sun sets for the winter,” Cordell went on, “I’ll have to make you wear headlights.” Cordell threw back his head and laughed suddenly. “Aha! A new story! ‘The Boy Who Wore Headlights’!”
Jean-Paul grinned as he hung his dripping parka on the peg beside the door. It was a good thing his father never stayed angry long. He sat on the floor and tugged at his boots. His mother laid down her sewing and came over to him. “It’s bedtime now,” she said. “Put the pup outdoors with the rest of the huskies before she puddles on the floor.”
Jean-Paul stared at his mother. His heart fell. He’d been counting on Sasha sleeping at the foot of his cot. They had made her go out last night, too. He couldn’t believe it!
“She can’t sleep without all the other puppies!” he protested. “Ma, she’s used to sleeping with the others. You wouldn’t make her go out with those bigger dogs, would you? And ... and I’ll mop the puddles ... and ... please?”
Cordell spoke. “I said you could keep the pup until spring, Jean-Paul. I didn’t say you could spoil her. Then it’ll be hard to give her up when she goes. Besides, if she’s kept too warm, she’ll lose her coat.” He motioned to the door. “Out she goes.”
Seeing an argument was useless, Jean-Paul hugged Sasha and opened the door. “Go on,” he said miserably. “You have to sleep outdoors where it’s freezing and snowy!” He hoped his parents had heard that. Didn’t they have any feelings? He gently pushed Sasha onto the porch and closed the door behind her. The pup whined. Jean-Paul turned to his parents, hoping they might change their minds. But no one looked his way. He said, “She’s only a baby. How would you like for your baby to sleep outside in the cold?”
Lise smiled. “Good night, Jean-Paul! Sleep well.”
Jean-Paul carried a lighted lamp to his room and set it on the table beside his rock collection. Like a small geologist, he had colle
cted his own samples from around the streams and lakes of Quebec before moving to the Northwest Territories. The flickering light picked up the shiny bits of mica and other minerals and brought them sparkling to life. Behind them on the wall, their shadows grew large in the dancing swell of the flames, reaching all the way to the bottom of the picture of his father and himself proudly displaying a large northern pike.
Jean-Paul went to the kitchen a few moments later and drank a dipperful of water from the bucket. On the way back to his room, he heard his mother’s voice from the other bedroom. He stopped outside the door to listen. Her voice was soft and sad.
“I wanted to have my baby in a real hospital, not some tumbledown settlement clinic in the land-of-nowhere.”
“I’m sorry,” Jean-Paul’s father said. “If I could change things I would.”
Lise answered, “It’s not your fault. But I miss my parents and sisters. I miss our other home and furniture. I miss Quebec!”
“You know you could have taken Jean-Paul and gone back on the plane.”
“Without you? Don’t be silly, Cordell.” There was a moment of silence, then Lise said, “Well, I’ll manage. Don’t I always?”
In the long silence that followed, Jean-Paul imagined that his father was holding his mother, comforting her. Then Cordell spoke softly. “Try not to worry, dear. Everything will be fine, eh? Someday everything will turn out just right. And someday we might even find a doctor who can mend our boy’s foot.”
Jean-Paul’s heart jumped as his mother replied, “I couldn’t wish for anything more.”
He tiptoed back to his room and undressed down to his first layer of underwear. He thought of the comments about his foot. Sometimes he had wondered if it could be straightened, but he had never talked much about it. But now the idea really excited him. Since coming to the Arctic, the foot was a constant embarrassment, a reminder that he wasn’t quite like the other boys. No wonder they teased him. But he guessed it would take a miracle to fix it. He tried to imagine how wonderful it would be to walk normally.
He lowered the wick on the lamp, then sat on the edge of the cot and stared at the small window. In a short space of time, clouds had rolled in and blocked out the moon and starlight. It was pitch black outside now, and there was nothing blacker than a starless night above the Arctic Circle. There was no curtain on the window, either, because, according to his father, there was nothing outdoors to watch him through a window. Still, as far as Jean-Paul was concerned, there was always something out there looking in, and he was going to insist that his father hurry and shutter the window.
Jean-Paul climbed into his sleeping bag and turned away from the window. Soon, his eyelids grew heavy; his dark lashes fell against his cheeks, and he slept.
A short time later, Jean-Paul awoke with a start, his face and neck drenched with sweat. He buried himself deeper into the sleeping bag, trembling violently from head to foot. His heart banged and hammered and hurt inside his chest. Blood rushed through his head, roaring and howling in his ears. Bits of the nightmare flashed into his mind. He screwed his eyes up tightly, trying to keep the awful pictures out. But on they came: giant-sized wolves with blood-dripping fangs. He heard their heavy panting as they came closer, their eyes nothing but shiny green slits. He felt the warmth and smelled the stink of their breath. Jean-Paul screamed over and over in his mind as he cowered inside the bag. And after a while, they faded away.
His heartbeat slowly returned to normal, the shaking of his small body stopped. He uncovered his face and looked around. The lamp still glowed. There’s nothing to be afraid of, he kept telling himself. Nothing, Jean-Paul. Nothing but a bad dream. Yet Jean-Paul dared not look toward the window.
He tried to sleep, but found he couldn’t. After a few moments of tossing, he got up and tiptoed through the cabin. He carefully slipped open the door. It creaked loudly. He turned and looked into the dark room. Sure that no one had heard, he opened the door wide. Kneeling on hands and knees, he peered out into the darkness. The keen polar air slugged him in the face.
“Sasha. Sasha,” he whispered. Thinking he heard a sound behind him, he turned around again. But, except for his father’s raspy snoring, the room was quiet. “Sasha?” he whispered again. Chains rattled from the end of the cabin. One of the other dogs whined. Jean-Paul held his breath, hoping they didn’t give any signals.
Suddenly, a bouncing bundle of fur jumped right into his face, licking and sniffing and whining. Wet kisses tickled Jean-Paul’s nose. He picked up the pup and squeezed her, kissed the top of her furry head, and buried his nose in the long fur. Sasha squirmed and wagged her tail.
He carried the pup to his room and dropped her on the cot. Then he climbed into his sleeping bag and called her. She wanted to play, to wiggle and jump. She went into the bottom of the bag and nibbled his toes. Then she came up and nuzzled his face, licking and licking. He whispered in her ear, “Go to sleep.”
____________
Lise nudged Cordell in the ribs. He snorted and rolled over. “Are you awake?” She pushed his arm away as he flung it over her chest. “Cordell, wake up!”
“Wh–what?”
“I’m freezing! Will you see if the fire has gone out?” She burrowed deeper into her covers and shivered.
Cordell sat up on the side of the bed and rubbed sleep from his eyes. He, too, shivered. The room was like the bottom of an iceberg. “I’d better see,” he mumbled. His big feet slapped the floor like two wet beaver tails. “Like ice in here! Maybe a polar bear’s come to visit and left the door open. Or a penguin.”
“No penguins in the Arctic,” said Lise, her teeth chattering. “Only Antarctica. I’m cold, not stupid.”
“Huh?”
“I’m turning blue and you’re cracking jokes.”
Cordell set a flame to the wick and carried the lamp to the other room. Even before he got to the stove, he saw the open door. “What th—?” Dangerous arctic air streamed into the room. Cordell’s feet were freezing through his wool socks. He ran over and slammed the door, sliding the bolt into place. He was sure he had bolted that door before going to bed. But he couldn’t have, of course, or it wouldn’t have blown open. He checked the stove to be sure it was still going. Then he stood beside it, half asleep and thinking.
“Cordell?” called Lise. “What’s wrong?”
He went over and poked his head through the doorway. “It’s okay. The door just blew open. Go back to sleep.”
Before returning to bed, Cordell went into Jean-Paul’s room. From the shadows cast by the nightlight came movement on the cot. Something wiggled by the sleeping bag. He looked closer, then whistled softly. “I don’t need to ask how you got in here,” he whispered to the pup. “And he left the door open, too.” Sasha pricked up her ears. Cordell reached down and scratched beneath her chin. “You’re a pretty little lady. Too bad we can’t keep you.”
He picked her up again, then changed his mind and put her back down. “I guess one night won’t hurt.”
Chapter 3
Although Jean-Paul went each morning to check the trap, he was always disappointed to find it empty. The trap had been set for a few weeks, the bait frozen into an icy black mess that no longer looked like meat. He was glad his father had not discovered the missing trap. As it was, Cordell had gone about his own trapping as before, not noticing one of them was gone.
One day, when Cordell came into the cabin, Lise was stirring a thick fish chowder on the stove, the spicy aroma rising from the steam and filling the room. Cordell hung his parka on the hook, then went and stood in front of Jean-Paul.
“Do you know what day this is?” he asked.
Jean-Paul shrugged and shook his head. He thought for a minute. “November something,” he said.
Cordell smiled down at his son. “Today’s the day the sun goes down and stays down for a long time.”
Jean-Paul closed the book he was reading with a snap and laid it on the floor. “Wow! I almost forgot!”
Lis
e turned and glared at them both. “Humph!”
Cordell went over and hugged her. To Jean-Paul he said, “Your mother doesn’t like the long Arctic night!” He kissed her on the cheek and said with a big grin, “When the sun comes again, you’ll have a small Lise. Just like a mother bear has cubs when she hibernates.”
Lise ignored the remark as she finished setting the table. She didn’t think it was funny. As if to herself, she said, “A small Lise in heavy boots. Not pink bootees and lace, but…”
Cordell tried to console her. “Well, our daughter will wear furs right from the start, eh?”
“Humph!” said Lise again. “Then Papa Bear had better set another trap!” She smiled in spite of herself.
Jean-Paul couldn’t help laughing out loud. It was all he could do to keep his secret to himself. Tomorrow he would check again. If he had anything to say about it, his new sister would wear white fox.
Later, the Ardoin family stood outside and watched the sun roll over the horizon and drop out of sight.
“Well, that’s that!” Cordell slipped an arm around Lise’s shoulders. “We won’t see it again until late January. But look, it left a nice sunset for us to enjoy. Tomorrow will be clear.”
“And dark,” replied Lise. “If it weren’t for you and Jean-Paul being here, I think I would go mad.”
Jean-Paul felt a shiver of fear rush up his spine. He didn’t like the long, dark days and nights all running together. Before going back inside, he looked up and found the star that would guide him through the dark months ahead—Polaris. He wanted to wish for daylight, but he knew it would do no good. I’d like fox fur for Ma’s baby.
____________
Jean-Paul watched his trap for the next week, but it still had not caught anything. Not even an okalerk. In the last week of November, he went to look again. He aimed the lantern’s beam down at the trap. Sasha, always at his heels, looked up at him and whined.
The Haunted Igloo Page 3
