Reading the Bones (14 page)

“She said the only way people will know what a wonderful past Crescent Beach has is by preserving it for them. And that won't happen unless the people who find the artifacts and remains respect and appreciate Native heritage.” I felt a renewed sense of shame as my
words hung in the air, but there was also a wave of relief that I'd finally told someone.

Then I sat back and waited. Even after everything she'd said earlier, somehow I still expected Aunt Margaret to be disappointed with me. She didn't say anything for a really long time. I couldn't take the silence. “I guess you think I was pretty stupid, right?”

Still she said nothing. Then, finally, she looked up from her lap and spoke so softly I could barely hear her. “No, Peggy, I don't think you were stupid. You made a big mistake, and it sounds like you already realize that, and even tried to correct it. I'd say that you learned your lesson. But now I have something I need to tell you.”

I was so afraid of what she was going to say that my hands started to shake under the bedcovers.

“At first I was anxious to get those bones out of my yard. Besides it being kind of creepy, I felt inconvenienced by the excavation. I allowed Bob Puddifoot to bring Mr. Grimbal to the house, with the belief he could speed things along. There was also some talk of financial compensation, too.”

She took a deep breath. “Boy, I'm glad we're talking in the dark ... because I can hardly stand myself. Anyway, I let Mr. Grimbal poke around in the burial to see if there was anything important, anything of value. I made him promise not to move too much. Then he picked up the skull, and that's when he found the pendant.

“I don't know why, but I suddenly felt terrible about letting him touch the burial, even about letting him into our yard. So I made him leave. He was so angry that he actually frightened me. I realize now he was waiting for you to find it, was maybe even spying on you. With all
that's been going on between us, I guess it didn't take him long to find you at a weak moment. What happened wasn't your fault. It was mine.”

Wow, I hardly knew what to say. In a funny way I was glad to know I wasn't the only one who'd done something stupid. Then I reached out and took Aunt Margaret's hand. “Okay, so we both goofed up. What are we going to do about it?”

Shuksi'em is not well today and cannot leave the clan house. The people are collecting firewood and are preparing spaces for the guests to sleep. Sleek Seal stands gracefully before her grandfather so he can admire her ceremonial shell necklace and her dress made from new deer hide.

“You have done well, Granddaughter. If I did not know better, I would think it was your aunts who made these fine things.” The girl's cheeks glow a tender pink, and her smile is one of joy. He motions for her to come closer so he can examine the beautiful design of shells better. “It is good that you have blended your mother's tusk shells with the dentalia from our Nootkan cousins. Like our people, they exist in harmony.”

“The secret to the shells' brilliant shine, Grandfather, is to gather them when they are fresh.”

“Ah, very clever,” Shuksi'em says, pretending to be surprised.

“Mother thinks I have not finished preparing my costume. So you are the first to see me in my finery.” The girl grins.

“Why is it you have deceived her, Sleek Seal?” “It was the only way she would let me stay behind today. The aunts have kept me so busy preparing food for the feast.
They never give me a moment of peace. Everyone knows how important it is that I look my best for the ceremony, so they have given me today to finish.” Her smile is like a bright, warm light.

Shuksi'em cannot help himself, and he snickers at this cunning child.

“But since my work is done, what I really want is to hear a story, one that I have never heard before.”

“Ah, now I see your true purpose. And since you are so clever, I shall tell you one — a true story about what happens when people are too crafty.” Sleek Seal's eyes widen with anticipation. “This story was given to me by my elders when I was a young man and to them from many generations of family storytellers. It tells of a dark time when our clan had not learned the danger of greed and how it is the cause of shame and death. Are you frightened, Sleek Seal? I would not want to scare you.” Shuksi'em grins at his granddaughter.

“Oh, Grandfather! I am never afraid when you tell stories. Well, almost never. Go on. I want to hear.”

“Well, if you are sure then. It was fall and your ancestors were having a wedding potlatch. It was meant to be a happy time. And as is the custom, many gifts were to be distributed to the guests. The bride's family decided they would scramble the goat-wool robes to the common people. During the game, there was much disorder as people grabbed and pulled at the beautiful coats. Two men were fighting over the same coat — neither generous enough to let go. The struggle ended when the older man slashed the younger one's face with his sharp clamshell knife.

“That night the wife of the younger man thought to take revenge for her husband's humiliation, and she searched
the forest until she caught a frog. When no one was looking, she took some of the other man's tea and a small piece of his sleeping mat and forced them down the frog's throat. Then she sewed up the frog's mouth and attached it to a long rod and planted it in the river's mouth. She meant for the evil thing to be washed away, causing her husband's enemy to choke on this bad luck until death.” Shuksi'em stretches his arms and yawns loudly. “Perhaps I should finish the story another time, Sleek Seal.”

“Grandfather, you are teasing me. You know I could not bear for you to stop now. And I am sure I will be haunted if you do not finish the story.”

Shuksi'em shakes with laughter until strands of his long grey hair loosen from their braids. Sleek Seal laughs herself at his nearly toothless grin.

“I would never be the cause of your haunting, dear granddaughter, so I will continue as you have asked. When the wife returned to the big house, someone overheard her telling her husband about what she had done. That night, when the older man began to vomit and choke, word of her deed passed quickly through the big house. The clan was angry and afraid that her witchcraft could be so powerful. Soon there was a frenzy and the people began to shout, ‘Kill the wicked ones before they kill us.' The couple was taken to the shell mound where they were bound together in an embrace. Many of the men took their sharpest arrows and shot the man and woman until their bodies slumped to the ground. They were buried right where they died, while the clan shaman called on the spirits to cleanse the village of their evil souls.”

Shuksi'em pauses to let the details of the story sift deeper into his granddaughter's mind. He watches as she considers
these events. Only a few such stories of war and violence have passed down through time. His people are peaceful, and he has never known such strange happenings in his own lifetime.

“Did the older man die, Grandfather?” Sleek Seal asks. Shuksi'em smiles at her question. “No, Granddaughter. In the morning, when he felt better, he told his wife that he had eaten too many of the clams during the feast. One had some fine pieces of shell that lodged in his throat, causing him irritation. Then, when he had heard what had happened the night before, he collapsed on the spot and died of shock.”

“The life lesson is clear to me, Grandfather. First, had the two men found a fair and generous solution to the problem with the goat-wool robe, the matter would have ended peacefully. If the wife had used more sense and less craftiness, she would not have caused such alarm among the clan people. And finally, the ancestors were too hasty in their judgment. If they had waited, they would have seen that the older man was not harmed. Our people must never forget this story, Grandfather. It is good that you have told me.”

Shuksi'em strokes the girl's head, silently approving her wisdom. Then he pulls his small deerskin pouch out from under his bed and unties the string. “Sleek Seal, I have something I want to give you.” He removes the small amulet and gives it a last few rubs until the little round face gleams. The pendant hangs from a thin piece of bear-gut string. “I have carved this charm from a rare stone brought by the traders. It has been blessed by the shaman and will give you courage when you go to your new clan. The goodness in your heart will only make it more powerful, so keep it close.” He wants to say more, to tell her she will be
missed, but the sting in his eyes makes him turn away.

Sleek Seal admires the stone. She has never seen such a charm as this, and she knows how hard it has been for her grandfather to carve such details. Her heart feels hot in her chest and is nearly bursting.

Aunt Margaret and I decided that telling Eddy was the first step in trying to fix this mess. By the time her pickup pulled up to the house, my stomach was in such a tight ball that I could hardly stand up. Then, when I saw Chief Lloyd drive up and park his Mustang behind Eddy's truck, my heart sank.

Aunt Margaret noticed the chief, too, and sighed deeply. “All right, Peggy, this is going to be tough, but we'll do it together.” She marched over to the front door and opened it wide. “Good morning, Dr. McKay and Chief Lloyd.”

“Hello, Mrs. Randall,” Eddy said. “Today is an important one, and the chief wanted to be here to offer a prayer and observe the final removal of the burial. Is Peggy feeling up to participating?”

“Ah, well there's something she and I need to talk to you about. Would you both be kind enough to come into the house?”

New waves of panic wrenched at my stomach. It was bad enough to have to confess to Eddy. Why did she have to invite the chief, too?

After they were both seated in the living room, my aunt began telling our story. “When we first discovered the remains in our backyard, I was pretty disturbed. You could even say I was horrified. I now regret feeling that way.”

Eddy smiled. “Actually, Mrs. Randall, your response wasn't all that unusual.”

“Well, maybe not ... but there are some things you need to know.”

As Aunt Margaret explained everything that had happened, the happy expression melted off Eddy's face and her normally warm eyes turned dark. It was harder to get a reading on the chief. His calm demeanour didn't change at all.

Even though I felt like barfing up breakfast, I was also overcome with appreciation for my aunt. I could never have done this alone. She seemed so calm and cool as she took most of the blame, including the part when I sold the carving to Mr. Grimbal. After she finished, there was a long silence. I stared hard at the floor, afraid to look up and catch Eddy's eye.

“I see” was all Eddy said. I expected to hear how disgusted she was ... maybe some yelling or even stomping. But I wasn't prepared for silence. Then, after several minutes, it was Chief Lloyd who spoke first, breaking the tension.

“You think your story is a new one? Such things have been happening for a very long time.” He gazed out the window as he spoke. “Since the first white land agent showed up over a hundred and twenty years ago and claimed this place for the Dominion of Canada, Salish people have seen their land diminished and their culture reduced to collectibles for the curious.” His tone wasn't sad or critical, just matter-of-fact. “But not everyone wants to see the ancient remains and possessions turned into bookshelf ornaments.” He glanced over at Eddy.

“That's right, Chief,” Eddy said. “Not everyone is like Walter Grimbal.”

“Or me,” I added, feeling the need to take responsibility for what I'd done.

“No, Peggy, you don't fit into that category,” the chief said. “No one who speaks so eloquently about my ancestor as you did yesterday could feel that way.”

The first knot in my stomach came undone.

“Chief Lloyd's right, Peggy,” Eddy said. “I don't excuse what you did, but given all the circumstances, I'd say your actions were misguided, not motivated by greed or disrespect. And, Mrs. Randall, I appreciate your honesty in coming forward with this.”

The next knot in my intestines unwound, and the feeling returned to my fingers when I finally relaxed my white knuckles.

“Peggy and I just want to do what we can to fix all this.” Aunt Margaret seemed as relieved as I was that everything was finally out in the open.

“Well, fixing all this really comes down to fixing Walter Grimbal.” Eddy's eyes were now distant as if she were remembering something from long ago. “You might find it hard to believe, but there was a time when Walter was one of the fiercest advocates for preserving prehistoric cultural remains. His wife, Lily, and he first moved to Crescent Beach in the late 1950s. At that time there were few people who lived here year-round. It didn't take them long to start finding arrowheads, bone and stone tools, and even human remains. Back then many artifacts lay right on the surface. Other times they turned up in a vegetable garden or when digging a hole to bury a family pet. At the time there was no Heritage
Conservation Branch, no local museum, and people didn't see a reason for being concerned about all these strange remnants of the past.

“But Lily and Walter were fascinated by them. They kept every artifact they found and eventually built up quite a collection. There were a few others, including me, who realized the importance of these artifacts. When the Grimbals opened the Real Treasures and Gifts shop, they devoted an entire corner of the store to the display of artifacts and photos of the local Native culture. None of it was for sale, though they got lots of offers. Eventually, we were able to build a museum. When it first opened, the largest part of the collection was Coast Salish artifacts donated by Lily and Walter.”