was fair. Maybe it was. I wasn’t sure. But I was an outsider. My evidence could tear the band apart, so I hadn’t told Eric what I suspected.
Instead, I retreated as I usually did to Aunt Aggie’s rocker on the verandah with a tumbler of vodka clutched in my hand. I tried to wash away my uncertainties with the usual tonic of rhythmic rocking, the hypnotic view of Echo Lake, and of course the mind-numbing vodka.
Except after a few sips, I put the glass down. Eric was right. I didn’t need this stuff. In fact, I hadn’t felt the need to drown myself in it since my confrontation with Gareth. It looked as if fear of him had been the motivation behind my drinking. Once that fear was gone, I no longer needed the crutch.
I continued rocking and thinking about Marie. Reluctantly, I came to accept that murder-suicide was the only plausible verdict. After years of abuse from Louis, she had finally snapped. When she realized she’d killed him, she had fled to the island, where, in a state of remorse, she’d killed herself. The footprints were purely coincidental, made by other people who just happened to be visiting the beach around the same time. As for Tommy and the boat, there was obviously another explanation. I would ask him at the first opportunity.
And this was how I felt as I drove to Marie’s healing ceremony in the early afternoon. Originally, I’d decided not to go. It was a traditional Algonquin ceremony intended to ease the pain of the death of one of their own. As an outsider, I felt it wasn’t my place to attend. Besides, I didn’t want to create any discord should Tommy or other band members object to my presence. Instead, I would only attend her funeral service, which was to follow afterwards in the Migiskan Church.
But a quick call from Eric wanting me to explain my absence convinced me otherwise. He said I was no less affected by Marie’s death. I too could benefit from the healing process. And if anyone objected to my presence, he’d deal with them. Swayed but still fearful of causing a disturbance, I agonized a few more minutes before deciding. By the time I arrived at the low cedar strip building of the Ceremonial Hall, the ceremony had started.
I almost turned back at the sound of chanting. But deciding that Marie was more important than my discomfort, I entered the already crowded room. The chanting stopped. Every face turned towards me. Embarrassed, I stopped. And then the elder sitting at the circle’s entrance, an older woman I didn’t know, turned towards me and smiled.
Although I didn’t understand her Algonquin words, the meaning was clear: “Please, enter the circle.” She indicated its clockwise direction. Thankfully I knew enough to honour the circle, otherwise I would not only have embarrassed myself further by walking in the wrong direction, but would also have angered the spirits.
I searched for a place to sit, but Marie’s friends had already filled in the circle. Those not early enough to get a seat on the surrounding cedar benches sat cross-legged on the floor a respectable distance from the centre. Eric smiled from the far end and pointed to a few spots on the floor where I might squeeze in. However, before I reached these, John-Joe, acknowledging my presence with a sombre nod, vacated his seat on a bench and took one of the free spots on the floor. I gratefully accepted his offer.
I smiled hi to the few people I knew, Marie’s friend Dorothy, dressed soberly in black, my coffee drinking buddy Frosty in a clean shirt. Not far from Dorothy sat Charlie Cardinal, beside a fat downtrodden looking woman, probably his wife. I even nodded at him, figuring he wasn’t totally bad, given his special bond with Marie.
Tommy sat cross-legged near Eric. He didn’t so much as glance in my direction, let alone acknowledge my presence. From the closed-in look on his face, I didn’t think he was paying too much attention to anyone.
Kneeling before a small pottery bowl of burning smudge, the elder resumed her quiet chanting. She placed bits of dried sweetgrass and cedar into the bowl and fanned it with her brown-speckled eagle feather. Her clothes were simple, a plain cotton skirt and a black turtleneck sweater covered by a fringed deerskin vest. Over her grey-streaked hair she wore a band of pink and blue beads. But it was the expression on her heavily lined face I found the most remarkable, a look of serenity that bespoke of someone wholly at peace.
Although I’d never been to a healing ceremony before, I recognized, from the smudging ceremonies I’d attended, the traditional elder’s medicine bundle lying in the centre of the circle. Its sacred objects were scattered over a well-used piece of deerskin with its four corners marked in turn by a traditional yellow, black, white or red flag. Though these four colours have many different meanings, the one I preferred equated them to the races of mankind, and because the circle provided equality, no one race was placed higher than the other on the circle.
This elder’s sacred objects were an odd assortment of natural and man-made; a fine piece of jade next to a small crystal vase, black mussel shells sprinkled over what looked to be a shocking pink velvet shawl. While none were what I’d call medicinal, all would have sacred meaning to this elder. Perhaps a special person had given her the vase, or she’d found the shells on sacred ground. Even the unusual pink colour must have significance, for in addition to the shawl and her headband, there was a dyed pink ostrich feather and choker of pink beads.
With the smoking smudge pot in her hand, the elder walked slowly around the circle, stopping at participants to allow them to cleanse themselves with its sweet smelling smoke. The first time I’d attended a ceremony, I’d felt a bit ridiculous performing the motions of the ritual washing. Now, with a few more ceremonies under my belt, I found myself wafting the smoke over my body twice to ensure I was cleansed enough to open the path to Marie’s spirit.
I’d expected the mood of the ceremony to be sombre and sad. Instead, people smiled and talked quietly amongst themselves as the elder moved from participant to participant. I found myself liking this relaxed, friendly mood, a sharp contrast to the religious restraint I was used to.
When the elder had finished, she returned to her seat at the circle’s entrance and began chanting in Algonquin. Then she switched to English, the one language she could be assured of all band members understanding. She talked of Marie and the sadness of her untimely death. She didn’t mention how Marie had died, but I could see in others’ eyes that it was foremost in their minds. Then she invited the circle to share their memories of Marie.
Charlie Cardinal was the first to take up the offer. “You people know Marie and me were like brother and sister. We grew up together at my mother’s hearth. Times were hard. Food scarce, but we were happy. In summer, we lived in the bush. Marie cleaned my first deer. I killed her first fish. We followed the cry of the loon to a secret lake, where I had my vision quest. Then, one day it was all gone, forever.”
He moved his glance deliberately around the circle, then directed his angry eyes at me. “Fuckin’ residential school!” he spat out. “Destroyed our way of life.”
A hushed silence followed. The elder admonished him quietly, saying this was a time for healing, not angry confrontation.
Nonetheless, I squirmed inwardly as every pair of eyes turned to me. While I was no stranger to the damage inflicted by the Church-run residential schools on the Indian nations, I felt now was not the moment to do anything other than murmur some kind of apology and keep my eyes downcast.
I also knew what the school had done to Marie. She had told me one day last summer. So as Charlie continued with his memories of Marie, I remembered my own conversation with her.
“I was just a little thing, not eight years old, when they told me I gotta leave my Mooti,” Marie had said in her quiet matter-of-fact tone, with no hint of accusation. “I cried many days. The sisters yell at me to stop, forget my people. They say our ways no good. I gotta do things the way they do things. But it was very hard. They hit me many times. I run away. They
