“So Dark Sky wandered far and wide each night, searching for his courage.” Shuksi’em speaks slowly, his deep voice rising and falling ever so slightly like the gentlest waves on a beach. “And every morning he returned to his village disappointed that he had failed to find it. We know he still searches to this day because every morning we wake to find the grass drenched in his tears.”
The children gaze at Shuksi’em’s wise old face ... knowing ... waiting ... for the story’s life lesson. They have heard it many times already in their young lives, but each time is like the first, and they wait to gobble every word like baby birds swallowing worms from their mother’s beak.
“It took great courage for the boy to wander alone in the woods each night, yet he thought he had failed in his mission. Someday you, too, will wander alone, struggling in the darkness, searching for the strength to face life’s challenges. And when you do, remember to have faith in yourself. The courage you need is within you, waiting to guide you into the light.”
Shuksi’em smiles, his eyes dancing with firelight. Slowly, he turns away to flatten his bed and lays his head down for sleep. One by one the children quietly creep off to their own beds somewhere close to a mother or father.
Feeling joy bubble up inside him, Shuksi’em smiles again. He enjoys his time with the children. They are filled with the promises of new life and none of the sorrows. Suddenly, a large, warm body pushes against his bent spine. It is a familiar shape that wraps around him like a shell to its clam.
“It seems like your stories grow longer every time you tell them, old man,” Talusip says to her husband. “You should not forget that some of us need our sleep more than you.”
“I, too, would like more sleep, but the damp mist of the night sneaks into my back and hands leaving me stiff with pain” Then Shuksi’em feels his wife’s strong fingers gently pound and rub his crooked old spine until he finally drifts into a dream.
In the dream Shuksi’em returns from sea after many days. He is tired and ashamed that he has no catch of fish for his hungry clan. As he rounds the small finger of land only a short distance from his home, he suddenly thinks he has come to the wrong place — for the land is bare. He searches for a familiar sign, but even the clan house is gone. His heart thumps harder, faster. He is so weak now that he can hardly paddle his canoe. With no fish in the ocean to eat and no forest to provide food and shelter, how will his people survive? As Shuksi’em pulls his boat onto the shore, he feels himself dissolve into the sand.
When Shuksi’em awakes, the frightening images are still in his mind. But around him are the gentle sounds of the sleeping clan. And Talusip’s body heat still seeps into his own. He is relieved that all is as it should be. As his fear slips away, his heart begins to settle and the rhythms of the night lull him back to sleep.
CHAPTER 4
It was almost nine o’clock when I crawled out of bed the next morning, but I felt as if I hadn’t slept for more than a couple of hours. Slowly, I made my way downstairs, rubbing sleep from my eyes. I stopped midway when I heard a strange voice coming from the kitchen.
“It’s too bad I didn’t know about your plans for the backyard. I would have told you what could happen when you start digging in this town.”
“It’s been a terrible shock to my system, not to mention a real hassle,” Aunt Margaret said. “I’ve spent hours planning the landscaping, and I can tell you this isn’t what I envisioned for my garden.”
“Well, next time you think about digging in your yard, just let old Bob give you some ideas about what to do with all that junk. Old bones make great wind chimes, and some of those artifacts are good as garden ornaments. I’ll bet that skull you found would’ve made a humdinger of a conversation piece.”
“Oh, please, don’t remind me. I have a time trying to get to sleep knowing it’s right outside my bedroom window.” I could picture my aunt’s face getting all dramatic.
“I can understand how you’re feeling,” the man said. “All the more reason you should get something for your trouble. After all, this is your place, not some old guy’s who lived a couple of thousand years ago. It’s yours, including everything on it.”
Before I walked into the kitchen, I knew I’d dislike the man sitting at the table with my aunt. As I came through the doorway, Aunt Margaret smiled and her guest looked up from his coffee. He was a pear-shaped fellow wearing a T-shirt that read: RENO — WHERE MEN PLAY CARDS AND WOMEN SERVE DRINKS!
“Good morning, Peggy,” Aunt Margaret said. “This is our new neighbour, Bob. He was telling me that people have been finding artifacts and bones around Crescent Beach for decades. He has some interesting ideas about what we should do if we find any more.”
The man held out a pudgy hand. “Hi there! I’m Bob Puddifoot.”
Just then I remembered seeing him before, but not face to face. Usually, when I passed by his yard, he was bent over his flower garden, his wide rump looking like two pillows. I shook his hand and smiled weakly. Then I turned away and poured myself some cereal. I noticed our town paper was open on the counter, and a big star was pencilled beside an ad that said: “Wanted: Ancient Native artifacts. Will pay good price. Contact 604-555-5555.”
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