The Eclipse of Moonbeam Dawson (10 page)

Reid worked steadily next to Gloria over a huge, long stainless steel sink. Claude told them he didn't mind if they talked as long as the work was done properly. It wasn't that boring. He got to be close to her and while he was cleaning the spinach, she told him a lot about her background.

“My great-grandfather's name was Saburo Yamada. His family came to Canada in the late eighteen hundreds, although I'm not sure of the exact year, but they were among the first Japanese in North America and he was born in Vancouver around nineteen hundred. He even fought in the Canadian Army in World War I and was sent to France.”

“Really?” He liked listening to her, it was interesting. Also, it meant he didn't have to talk, so there was less chance he'd mess up.

“After the war, he settled in Clayoquot Sound and worked as a fisherman. He and his wife had three kids, and my grandmother was the oldest.” Gloria pointed to the counter. “Hand me that knife, will you?”

“This one?”

“Yes, thanks.” She began slicing tomatoes into even, beautiful slices. Reid watched her hand making smooth, rhythmic strokes with the knife. She made it seem effortless.

“My grandmother tells a story about her father during World War II when the government took the boats that belonged to all the fishermen of Japanese descent. He had fought with the Seaforth Highlanders and on the day they took all the boats, he put on his regiment's uniform and went down to the dock and was standing there in the Scottish tam and jacket with its brass buttons buttoned up when they came.” She stopped slicing and looked over at Reid. “After that their family was sent to the interior with all the other Japanese-Canadian families from the coast. She doesn't talk much about that part. She just says
shikataganai.
”

“What's that?”

“
Shikataganai
means something like ‘what can you do?' Like there's nothing that can be done so you just accept it. It's one of the few Japanese words I know.”

“Were they put in one of those camps?”

“Yes, but no one in my family says much about it. They ended up in Toronto after the war, and then in 1952 BC Packers recruited the Japanese-Canadian fishermen to come back to the coast. That's when the family settled in Ukee.” Gloria went to the large walk-in refrigerator and filled the colander with more tomatoes. “What's really sort of odd is that my dad worked for Tohei, the Japanese packing company, until they closed. Now he's at the Clayoquot Fish Company, but he had been at that Japanese company a long time.”

“And your dad's Canadian.”

“Mum's Canadian, too,” she snapped. “Color and citizenship aren't the same. That's the whole point.”

“I know,” he said, feeling stupid. “I just meant your dad's white.”

She nodded. “He's from Port. He and my mum met at university.”

*   *   *

The first seating in the dining room was at 5:00, and within twenty minutes the orderly efficiency of the prep work gave way to what seemed to Reid near chaos. The air became tropically thick with vaporized food particles sprayed off dirty plates with 140-degree water, the floor tiles became slippery, and everyone was sweating. Their damp shirts stuck to their backs. Orders spewed out of the high-speed printer and were slapped on the counter as line cooks grabbed the tickets and shouted to the preppers to pull the food from the walk-in. “Reid! One caprese!” “Gloria! Two escarole!” “Reid! Zuppli! Five for the five top!” “Gloria! Four spinach!” He heard his name what seemed like a thousand times from the line cooks while he staggered under huge trays of lemon wedges, plucked pomegranate seeds, and ground coriander, and he was still trying to learn what all the stuff was.

It didn't die down until 10:00. Reid chopped the last of the shallots and skewered the shrimp. Next to him Gloria sprinkled powdered sugar on plates that would hold Claude's signature dessert, a dacquois, layers of baked meringue filled with buttercream and topped with shaved chocolate.

“Is it always like this?” Reid arranged the skewers on a large stainless broiler pan.

“It has been since I started, but I'm only here on weekends. I'm not sure about the middle of the week.”

“This is a lot harder than I thought.” He carried the pan to the line cook and came back over to her.

“First day's always the worst.” She sprinkled the shaved chocolate over the dacquois.

“Who knows what I would have brought out if you hadn't pointed to the stuff they wanted in the fridge. I never heard of half of this stuff.” Reid leaned back against the counter. “Thanks,” he said, genuinely grateful.

“I look out for my friends,” she smiled. “But remember, I'll collect when you get your dessert.”

Friends. There it is again. But this time it's loud and clear. She only wants to be friends.

“When do we eat?” he asked, trying to hide his disappointment.

“I think Claude has your entree ready now. We eat at the corner table by the sideboard after the last guests leave.”

By 10:15 the dining room was empty and Reid got his food from Claude and sat next to Gloria at the corner table. Friends was a lot better than nothing, he decided as he pulled his chair next to her. A lot better.

“This is incredible.” He tried to eat slowly so he could remember each bite forever, because he had never tasted anything like this food.

“My turn.” Gloria picked up her fork and started to go for his plate.

Reid put his hand on hers and laughed. “Just a minute! Are there any rules on how big the bites are?”

“Yes. As big as I want.” She took her hand away from his and cut into his dessert. “Mmmm … yum.” Gloria half closed her eyes, relishing the scrumptious chocolate torte.

“I feel sort of bad eating this great stuff.” Reid looked at the cake.

“Why? You worked your butt off in there, you sure earned it.”

“I was just thinking about all the boring stuff my mother eats.” He finished the dessert and then stood up and began clearing their plates. “Guess I'll turn in. Jim has to catch a ferry at Nanaimo so he's going to take me to the Co-op first thing in the morning.”

*   *   *

Reid was so tired from his first day at work, he fell asleep the minute his head hit the pillow, but instead of sleeping soundly until his alarm went off at 6:30, he woke up at 5:30. He thought he'd heard someone crying. He sat up in bed, not knowing where he was for a minute. Groping for the light, he turned it on and looked around the room. His apartment. Stere Island Lodge. No sound of anyone. He'd been dreaming.

He had been sitting at a huge table covered with food, plates and plates of incredible food, like a feast in a palace. He was so excited to eat it, he hardly knew where to begin. He decided to start with dessert, a beautiful chocolate cake. But just as he took a bite, he noticed a grungy person locked outside, peering in the window. He tried to give the person some food, but the window was stuck.

Reid tried to go back to sleep, but after a few minutes of tossing and turning decided it was hopeless. He showered and got dressed and headed over to the kitchen for some breakfast. Except for the lobby and the lights in the kitchen, the lodge was still dark. Jim was having breakfast when he got there.

“Your mother called last night, Reid.”

“She did?” He got some cereal and sat next to Jim.

“Wanted to make sure you'd know how to get to her new place today. In case you decided to stop in after the Co-op.”

“It's on the edge of town on Ellis Lake, right?”

“Right. She said it's at the end of the north fork of the road that goes into Palmer's Land from the highway. You can walk there pretty easily.”

Reid couldn't finish his cereal. He had that stupid knot in his stomach again. He wanted to ask Jim how she'd sounded, but he didn't dare. The truth was that he really didn't want to know. Judging by how she was yesterday, she probably sounded bad.

*   *   *

When they got to town, Jim went in the Co-op with Reid and signed for the slacks and shirt on the lodge account, then he left for Nanaimo while Reid was trying the clothes. By the time he'd finished at the Co-op it had started to rain. It was coming down hard and the idea of his mother alone in the cabin in the rain made him feel terrible. The rain was relentless, and by the time he walked out to Palmer's Land there were strong gusts of wind hammering the rain down in vast sheets. It was more like a winter storm down from Alaska. There were few cars on the road between Tofino and Ellis Lake, not even a dog in sight in the rough weather.

Reid pulled the hood of his parka lower over his head as he turned into Palmer's Land. The narrow dirt road was muddy with thick, deep tire tracks and he thought someone could easily get their car or truck stuck here. He was picturing her in their truck, the tires almost submerged in mud and no one around for miles to hear her, when he spotted some lights through the trees. It looked like there was a cabin back in there.

As Reid rounded a bend in the road, he saw their old pickup parked next to a small cedar structure, an interesting modern design with a roof of large solar panels. Reid noticed the truck's tires were muddy and the faded bumper sticker,
ARMS ARE FOR HUGGING
, was so mud-splattered you could hardly read it. But the truck itself didn't look any worse for wear, and to his surprise it was completely unloaded. Through the window he could see a cozy fire in the fireplace. As he stepped up on the porch, about to knock, the door swung open.

“Moonbeam!” Abby squealed and threw her arms around him.

“Hi, Mum.”

“Well, come on in. Let's have a look at you!”

“I don't think I've changed. I just saw you yesterday.”

“Well, it seems a lot longer.” Abby closed the door behind him. “Have a seat. Here's the rocker, right by the fire. Are you hungry? Can I get you anything, Moonbeam?”

I have a new name now and it's Reid.

“Maybe later.” He sat in the rocker and looked around the room. It looked like she'd been living in the cabin forever the way everything had been put away. Even the loom was in the corner. “How'd you get that up?”

“Harvey helped me. By midmorning yesterday we had the entire truck unloaded. He was great.”

“Oh.”

“Then he chopped a cord of wood for me and stacked the whole thing by the side of the cabin. He was really wonderful.” Abby went to the small kitchen at the end of the cabin and took the hot water off the hot plate. “Want some tea? Harvey's got this wonderful spice blend he let me have.”

“Maybe later.” Reid picked up a pamphlet on the table next to the rocker and looked at the title. “Bear Alert!” he read aloud. “What's this?”

“Artis Palmer's part of it and I'm going to get involved, too.”

“Involved in what?”
Now
what is she up to? he wondered as he looked at the pamphlet.

“Bear Alert wants to stop the slaughter of black bears in Clayoquot Sound. Also the poaching that's part of the illegal trafficking in bear body parts.”

“Who wants bear body parts?” Reid frowned, skeptical.

“It tells all about it,” Abby said from the kitchen.

Reid sighed and read the pamphlet.

BEAR ALERT!

Currently in British Columbia, guide outfitters conduct hunts which can hardly be called hunting by any sporting definition. So-called hunters from the United States and Europe pay outfitters three thousand dollars for a guaranteed kill. This “sport” takes place in the spring, the time when unsuspecting bears head for the beaches to feed on crabs and other seafood.

Easy targets, the bears, animals known to have poor eyesight, are groggy from hibernation to the extent that they are rendered practically blind. The “hunters” cruise the shore in boats and shoot the nearly blind bears while they're feeding on the beach. This practice is currently legal in British Columbia.

Educating the public regarding the illegal practice of trafficking in bear body parts is also the aim of
Bear Alert!
Bear body parts, particularly bear gall, the bear's gall bladder, have proven medicinal value and can be worth up to eighteen times the price of gold in Asia and Asian communities in North America. However, there are synthetic and herbal alternatives every bit as effective. Using these alternatives and stopping the demand for bear body parts will save this unnecessary slaughter of bears.

Bear Alert!
is working in the Asian communities to present the herbal and synthetic alternatives to bear gall. Asian bears are practically extinct, and unless the slaughter is stopped here, bears will become dangerously close to extinct in North America.

“So what are you going to do about it? Hand out these pamphlets to warn the bears?” Reid put the pamphlet back on the table.

“It's
not
funny, Moonbeam.” Abby carried her tea in from the kitchen.

“Just a little joke.”

“Well it's serious.”

“Okay, okay,” Reid muttered.

“And for your information Bear Alert does try to warn the bears by intercepting the trophy hunters and poachers. Making a lot of noise to warn the bears that the so-called hunters are coming.”

“So you and these people run around in the bushes blowing whistles and stuff.”

“I'm not going to talk about this if you think it's so bloody funny.” Abby went back in the kitchen. “Listen, how 'bout some lunch? I've opened a jar of that blueberry jam we put up last spring.”

Reid grinned at the mention of blueberry jam. He hadn't come out here just to argue with her, and at least blueberry jam was something they could agree on. He followed her into the kitchen. “There isn't any jam at the lodge as good as yours.”

Abby reached up and tousled his hair. “Pretty soon I won't be able to reach the top of your head.”