North Country Mom. Lois Richer

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СКАЧАТЬ a display?” Jack asked.

      “It was held inside a caribou tent and it was amazing.” She tried to explain but cut it short when his eyes began to glaze. “Anyway, the presenters were descendants of an original settlement family. Their elder told stories about how their ancestors built sod houses to live in. I thought it would be fun to build one as a summer project for the boys. Kyle Loness—he’s the activities director at Lives—and Rick Salinger, our minister, have both promised to help.”

      “Sounds interesting. Do you have a book about it, or plans?” Jack asked.

      “No,” Alicia answered, slewing her eyes to the window, though there was nothing unusual in the muskeg pushing up to reveal the permafrost beneath. “All I have is a rough sketch an elder drew for me.”

      “Well, I guess you could get the library to order some books.” Jack savored his coffee, his face thoughtful. “You can’t just go out and start digging. You’ll need some kind of plan.”

      Alicia gulped, because that was exactly what she’d intended to do—start digging as soon as the town allocated the land. Now she realized how silly that was. Of course they would need a plan. Houses were built in stages.

      Rattled by the thought of being asked to consult a book, she knew she’d have to be careful or else Jack and the rest of Churchill would discover she couldn’t read very well. Her mother had tried to teach her when their remote village lost its teacher, but her English hadn’t been great. When she’d been moved to Vancouver, Alicia had struggled and failed to catch up.

      “Since you’ll be helping us, perhaps you wouldn’t mind contacting the library,” she said, crossing her fingers that he’d accept.

      “I guess I could.” His forehead furrowed, he plied her with questions.

      Alicia answered as best she could but his proximity unnerved her. She was grateful when Giselle finally returned.

      “I hope you don’t mind if I ask this.” The girl stood in the aisle, leaning against the seat in front. “You’re an Indian, aren’t you?”

      Jack choked on his coffee then glared at Giselle, clearly aggravated by her impudence.

      “Native Canadian Indian, yes.” Alicia held her gaze as she said the words proudly, refusing to back down. “Why?”

      “One of my teachers said you often have names that have special meanings.”

      “You’re asking if Alicia is a traditional Native name?” she said.

      “Yes, like Piapot.” Giselle frowned. “Do you know what that name means?”

      “One who knows the secrets of the Sioux.” She hid her smile as Giselle’s eyes brightened. “I’m sorry to disappoint you. I’m afraid I’m just plain Alicia Featherstone.”

      “Well, at least you have Featherstone, though I don’t know what meaning that could have. Feathers and stones are complete opposites,” Giselle complained.

      “Sorry.” Alicia hid her smile. “If you’re interested in learning about Chief Piapot, every Thursday night I lead a campfire at Lives. I tell the boys stories of Native history. You’re welcome to join us.”

      “Thanks.” Giselle’s smile lit up her face. She returned to her seat across the aisle. Moments later she was busy on her pink cell phone.

      “I’m sorry,” Jack apologized. “Sometimes I have no clue what will come out of her mouth. I’m not sure she does, either.”

      Alicia burst out laughing. “Forget it. That in-your-face attitude is what makes kids so refreshing.”

      “I’ll try to remember that,” he said drily. “Hey, we’re slowing down.”

      “Yes. We’ll arrive in Churchill soon.” She smiled. “Did I ever thank you for rescuing my packages?”

      “I wouldn’t want Tansi’s stock to go missing.” He studied her for a moment. “I don’t know much about your kind of business, but Laurel says you’re doing very well. Have you ever considered expanding? There’s a much bigger market outside of Churchill that could use some education about your culture.”

      Warmth exploded inside her. At last, someone who thought like her. She gazed at Jack with admiration.

      “I dream about having a second store, maybe in Winnipeg, but I haven’t worked out how to do it.” Alicia hesitated, realizing she’d just shared her dream with a total stranger, a dream no one else knew about. Why was it so easy to talk to Jack?

      Just as quickly her excitement drained away. There was no point in thinking about future expansion with him or anyone else. People like her with no sources of funding didn’t have second or third stores. And now that Mr. Parcet was asking questions about her, it was only a matter of time before he’d show up to get information. He wasn’t going to get it from her, of course, but she had to put her dreams on hold and concentrate on making sure her son was safe before Mr. Parcet found her.

      How do I do that, God, when I don’t know where he is?

      Alicia stared out the window, lost in ways and means she might employ. The first thing would be to talk to the social worker she’d been assigned when she was fifteen and had given up her son. What was her name? Mrs. End-something. Endecott? Enderby? Endersley, that was it. She silently repeated the name to fix it in her mind.

      “I want to talk to Alicia, Dad. Can we change seats for a while?”

      Alicia blinked out of her thoughts and found Jack studying her. He raised one eyebrow.

      “Do you mind speaking with Giselle?” he said. “It’s okay if you’d rather rest.”

      “She’s not old, Dad. She doesn’t have to rest.” Scorn laced Giselle’s shrill tone.

      “Actually I’ve been up for about thirty-six hours and I am a bit tired, Jack.” Alicia smiled at him, deliberately cutting Giselle out of the conversation. She felt sorry for the child, but she wanted to make a point to Giselle to curb her attitude.

      “I’m sorry.” Giselle was a quick study. She looked remorseful as she shook her head. “You must be exhausted. It’s just that I’m curious about those stories you mentioned. Will you tell me more?”

      Wasn’t her life goal to bring awareness and knowledge to the world about her culture? Alicia nodded. “I guess we could talk for a while, if your father is agreeable.”

      “As long as you are.” Jack waited for Alicia’s nod. He gave her a quizzical smile before he rose and moved across the aisle.

      Giselle sat down in the seat he vacated. She fiddled with her hands for a few moments before she looked at Alicia. “My mother would have been furious if she’d heard me be rude,” she admitted.

      “And you want to get back at her for dying, or something?” Alicia frowned.

      “No.” Giselle shook her head.

      “Your father then?” And here she’d thought preteens would be easy to understand. Alicia took a shot anyway. “You blame your dad.”

      “For СКАЧАТЬ