Bristol Bay Summer Page 7

12

  Captain

  Thomas pushed the door open.

  “It’s suppertime, Captain. We brought sandwiches.”

  Zoey followed Thomas into a tiny workshop. Shards of light fought through a gritty window at the back. A small black-and-white TV balanced on a wooden crate in one corner. Dozens of small tools, most of which Zoey didn’t recognize, hung on the walls.

  Captain sat at a table covered with more tools and lit by a gooseneck lamp. Two plastic lawn chairs were the only other furniture. He looked up and smiled, revealing several missing teeth. As he maneuvered his heavy body from behind the table, his plaid wool shirt hung open. Underneath was a faded T-shirt with a frayed collar.

  “Thomas, what brought you into town?”

  Captain reached out a big arm and put a hand on Thomas’s shoulder. Teeth weren’t the only thing he was missing. The last two fingers of his right hand were just stubs.

  “Every time I see you, you look more and more like your dad.” He studied Thomas’s face for a moment, then turned. “Who’s this?”

  “That’s Zoey. Her mom’s boyfriend is hauling fish for us this summer over on Halfmoon.”

  “Well, hello there, Zoey. Where you from?”

  “We live in Anchorage now, but I’m really from Colorado.”

  “Traffic is terrible in Anchorage, and I hear Colorado’s dry as a desert.” His laugh ended in a deep cough. “How do you like the Bay?”

  “Fine, I guess,” said Zoey. “We just got here.” Thomas and Captain stayed silent. They wanted to know what she really thought.

  “It’s so flat! That’s the biggest difference. And the light is different here. It seems like it comes from everywhere at once instead of just from the sun.”

  “Good,” said Captain. “That’s a good start.”

  Thomas turned to Captain’s worktable. “What are you making?”

  “I got knife orders, but I’m getting tired of those.”

  Captain pulled three big hunting knives from a drawer and held them out. Carvings on two of the handles showed dog teams. The third was decorated with beluga whales. What tiny details!

  “I started these little masks.” He sat down and placed a white disk against a rough wooden board clamped to the tabletop. “Captain carves ivory,” Thomas said.

  Captain was silent as he pressed a tiny chisel into a delicate face framed by a carved hood. The scratch of the metal tool was faint against his heavy breathing. Thomas and Zoey moved closer. Thinly etched lines became wispy fibers that joined together into a fur ruff around the edges of the hood. The moon face had wide-apart eyes that seemed to grow from the surface like petals on a flower. Below them, sharp cheekbones, a small nose, and partially formed mouth.

  How does he carve such delicate lines with only three fingers?

  Thomas turned his head toward Zoey. His face, only inches from hers, radiated warmth and Zoey smelled the faint odor of gasoline from the boat. She felt herself flush a little, tossed her bangs, and stepped back.

  “What is ivory, anyway?” she asked. “Where does it come from?”

  Without looking up, Captain continued. “It grows out of the mud. Just like the blueberries.”

  “The mud?”

  “Come on, Captain,” Thomas said with a hint of laughter in his voice, “tell her.”

  Another breath. “This stuff is fossilized ivory. Mostly from woolly mammoth tusks.”

  Zoey stared at him in disbelief.

  Thomas laughed. “Those tusks are all around here.”

  “Here? In Naknek?” Zoey asked.

  Captain chuckled. “They keep showing up. This one came from down around Graveyard Point where the bank wore away. It stuck up out of the sand. Sometimes people find ’em when they’re fishing or berry picking. Took about three people to get this one in a skiff.”

  “Wow! A real prehistoric tusk.”

  “Only Alaska Native people are allowed to carve fresh ivory from the walrus. But anyone can carve the fossilized stuff.” He reached into a drawer and handed Zoey a couple of small knives with short blades. One blade was straight. The other hooked at an angle.

  “I got a piece of alder you can try if you like. Alder’s a good thing to start on, right Thomas?”

  Thomas nodded. “Softer than ivory, and if you make a mistake, there’s always more.”

  Zoey looked up at Captain. “Really? I can try it?”

  He lumbered over to the edge of the table, reached in a cardboard box, and slid a weathered piece of driftwood toward her. It was a little shorter but much thicker than Zoey’s arm and had a natural bend to it. A root maybe.

  Zoey sat nervously. Thomas moved next to her. He took the piece of wood in his hands. “You have to hold it for a while and look at it, right Captain? Pretty soon you see something, something living inside. It wants you to cut away the extra parts and let it out. No two people see the same thing. If you’re quiet, it talks to you.”

  Captain smiled. “I taught him back when he could hardly hold a knife. Made him count his fingers after every lesson. His mom was afraid he’d leave one lying around….” He held up his hand briefly. “This isn’t from carving—it’s fishing that’ll get you.”

  Thomas crossed the cabin floor to the windowsill and brought back a wooden replica of a small open-deck sailboat.

  “I made this last year for Captain’s birthday. He learned to fish on a double-ender just like this. Everybody used them. See, it comes to a point at the bow and the stern.”

  Zoey took the model boat and turned it gently in her hands. She ran her finger over the smooth sail, which was not made of cloth, but was carved from a separate piece of lighter-colored wood. The sides were made of three slats of wood that gently curved to where they came together at either end in a V. The tiny craft looked like it could sail away. Thomas was good!

  Captain leaned back in the shaky chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “When I was your age, Zoey, it was against the law to use motorboats. It’s tricky to sail and fish at the same time. Lots of fish though. Sometimes they’d jump right into the boat.”

  Zoey could see Captain sailing his fishing boat out in the Bay just as if it were a movie.

  “Captain knows a lot,” Thomas said.

  “I just tell you what you like to hear.” The old man smiled. “Thomas likes the stories about his dad. He was a good fisherman. A highliner.”

  Was?

  Zoey balanced the piece of driftwood in her fingers, turning it over and over. She saw that a branch growing at one spot had left a bump that came almost to a point. Thomas put his hand over hers to guide the knife. “Here, try to keep your hands soft. Feel the wood.”

  His hand was warm. Smooth in a way, and strong. Zoey made her own fingers relax. Then, as though she knew just what to do, she began to take thin shavings from the wood with the straight knife. Thomas withdrew his hand, and she heard a laugh from Captain.

  “I guess we got ourselves a carver, Thomas. I’ll show her how to hold the knives, but you better help her when the fishing’s slow out there. Here.” He handed Thomas his empty plate. “Mind taking this back to Rose?”

  Thomas took the plate and headed back to the house, but Zoey kept her attention on the carving. Captain watched her.

  “You’re wound up like a driftnet on a drum. What’s up?”

  Zoey was deep in concentration. Without thinking about it she said, “Oh, my brother was real sick. That’s why we came to Naknek, to the clinic.”

  “But he’s better now?” Captain heaved himself out of his chair to get a closer look.

  “Yeah, thanks to Thomas.”

  “Good. So. What else?”

  Zoey stopped carving and looked at the floor. Should she tell this total stranger what was really bothering her? Something about him made Zoey feel like she had known him for a long time. He made her feel like she could do almost anything—even carve with a knife that was so sharp it could lop off a finger. She stopped thinking and just started to talk.

&
nbsp; “My mom and dad got divorced last year, and my mom’s new boyfriend made us come out here. I was just getting used to Anchorage. But I guess we need the money. I need money too, so I can go back to Colorado to see my dad. But I haven’t heard from him, so I don’t know where to send my letters. Still, I’m going to find him.”

  Captain let her words settle before he answered. “Money, yes. Money can help solve problems. But there’s usually more to it than that. Kind of like the carving. Sometimes it takes a long time to see what’s right in front of you.”

  Zoey showed Captain what she had done so far to the alder branch. “What does this look like?”

  Captain smiled. “It doesn’t matter what it looks like to me. What do you see in there?”

  Zoey looked back down. Yesterday she would have said it was just a piece of firewood. Today, she was sure it could be something more, but she wasn’t sure what. She knew she wanted to learn more about carving. Something in the wood wanted to get out, just like she wanted to get out of Bristol Bay. But there was more to it than that.

  13

  A Gift

  The next morning, Zoey helped Rose make French toast while Eliot watched cartoons. Sweet bacon smells teased Zoey’s nose while she laid forks and spoons on a green and white vinyl tablecloth. The pattern matched the café curtains hung around a picture window that framed a big mountain ash tree in the yard. The branches of the old ash swayed in the wind. Beyond were the brown bluffs on the far shore of the Naknek River.

  Eliot took a thermometer from his mouth and handed it to his mom. He coughed weakly.

  “Ninety-nine.” She rubbed his forehead. “That’s a lot better, and those blotches are nearly gone.”

  “Mom, shhhhh!” said Eliot, without taking his eyes off the TV screen.

  Zoey’s mom smiled at her. “Eliot is Eliot again.”

  After breakfast Zoey helped Rose dry dishes while the old woman talked.

  “Captain’s my fifth husband. They say I love ’em to death. First one was cancer, second was a snowmachine accident and the third a hunting accident. Then my last husband was in a plane crash coming in from Kodiak. A foggy day, real cold. He called me twenty minutes out. Last I heard from him. The plane ran right into the ground. Couldn’t tell the difference between the fog and the snow. It happens around here.”

  “That’s terrible,” said Zoey’s mom. “Do you have kids?”

  “There they are.” She swept her arm stiffly around the room.

  Zoey turned her head as she stacked a dry bowl with the others. She had noticed all the photos but hadn’t looked at them carefully. Now, she saw kids of all ages, many holding up fish for the camera.

  Rose continued. “Three girls. All grown and married. Seven grandkids, and that’s just so far. That’s the tribe there.” Zoey followed her finger to a big, professional-looking photo.

  “Most of them help with the setnets. But not near Halfmoon. Our fish camps are along this side of the Bay. Not far from the river. You maybe saw them on your way in.”

  Zoey wondered what it must be like for Rose to lose so many husbands. All those people in the photos. They had all lost a dad, a stepdad, or a grandfather. Some more than once. All those families didn’t really exist anymore, at least not the way they were in the pictures. But from what Rose said the ones that were left stuck together. At least they still fished together every year.

  There was a knock at the door. Lee Roy and Thomas were back from a trip to the store.

  “You guys ready to go?” Thomas put a bag of groceries on the table for Rose. “We should head out if we want to catch the tide. Otherwise we’ll be here another night, and Mom’ll kill me.”

  Thomas stuffed the celery, onions, carrots, and potatoes Carolyn had asked for into his backpack.

  Lee Roy sat to watch the cartoon with Eliot, but Thomas pointed to his watch, and Lee Roy pulled himself away. He draped an arm around Rose. “Well, Sis, I better get these folks back to their boat.”

  “Thomas, say ‘Hi’ to your mom for me.” Rose crossed the kitchen and took a loaf of puffy, homemade bread from the breadbox, wrapped it in a dry cloth, and handed it to Thomas. “Give her this, and don’t you dare eat it on the way.”

  Zoey smiled.

  When Rose hugged her, Zoey surprised herself by squeezing back. She liked the sturdy feeling of Rose’s arms around her. She seemed like someone you could count on.

  Zoey was planning to stop by Captain’s workshop to say good-bye, but before she got to the door Captain walked in and handed her a cloth bag.

  “Something to keep you busy out there.”

  “For me?” She untied the leather strings. In the bag were two small carving knives. Tiny etched salmon swam up the wooden handles. Zoey knew they were salmon by the humps on their backs. The humps meant they were ready to lay their eggs. It seemed like every gift shop in Anchorage had pictures of spawning salmon in the window. Next to the knives lay the piece of wood she had worked on the day before.

  “Just to get you started.” Captain gave Zoey a wink. “Thomas, you keep an eye on her. Keep track of those fingers.”

  “Wow, thanks, Captain,” Zoey said. “What should I make?”

  Captain was already headed back to his shop.

  “I know. Whatever’s in there trying to get out!” Zoey called after him.

  Captain waved without turning around.

  Lee Roy started the truck. Eliot sat in front with their mom, so Thomas and Zoey once again jumped in the open cargo bed. Zoey pulled her hat down over her ears. Forty-five degrees, the TV weather had said. It would be even colder out on the water. As Lee Roy turned the truck around, Rose waved, then disappeared as they turned the corner onto the main road.

  On the way back across the Bay, with the engine humming and Thomas steering, Zoey felt more at home in the skiff. The return trip seemed much faster than when they had come, and before long, she could make out their campsite on the far shore. As they neared it, Thomas explained that even though commercial fishing season wouldn’t open until at least Saturday, he had to hurry home and help his mom. Nearly every family in the Bristol Bay region was already busy gathering fish to smoke and freeze for their own use. Those fish, plus the moose and caribou they hunted in the fall, would be their main food during the winter. “Subsistence,” Thomas called it.

  Zoey remembered her dad doing a kind of subsistence too. Every fall, he would bring home trout and deer, sometimes an elk. He would cut up the meat and wrap it in plastic, then in brown paper. He would have loved to catch salmon in Alaska, Zoey thought, and she felt a hollow ache in her stomach.

  Thomas slowed the skiff as they approached the beach.

  Zoey worked her way to the bow and grabbed the rope, ready to jump off when they hit the sand. Patrick stood on the shore, waiting, while next to him Lhasa wagged her tail so hard Zoey thought the dog might fall over. As soon as the boat was secure, Zoey leaped out, kneeled, and flung her arms around her old friend. Eliot joined her.

  “Oh, Lhasa, I missed you.” Zoey rubbed her face in the dog’s neck.

  “Kraak, kraak,” cried Eliot, running around flapping his arms.

  “Apparently, Raven Boy survived,” laughed Patrick. He picked Eliot up, mid-flap. “Hey, Buddy, I was worried about you. Glad you’re okay.”

  “Kraak, kraak,” Eliot didn’t stop flapping, and Patrick put him down again.

  Patrick turned to Thomas and gave him a little salute. “Thanks for taking care of them.” He peeked at Zoey’s mom, who was still in the boat gathering their stuff. “I didn’t sleep much last night. If you hadn’t made it back on this tide, I was going to get in the plane and come after you.”

  “Well, I’m glad you didn’t do that,” Zoey’s mom answered, “but you sure picked the wrong time to disappear off to Dillingham.” She tossed a sleeping bag at Patrick, a little harder than she needed to, Zoey thought.

  Thomas looked out at the Bay. “I’d better get back to camp. Seen my uncle around anywhere?”

>   “Not since I brought him out yesterday,” answered Patrick.

  Zoey’s mom reached for Thomas’s shoulder. “Why don’t you come and have some lunch at least.”

  Thomas shrugged. “The tide’s going out, so I could just leave the skiff here and pick it up tonight. Can’t stay long though. There’s a lot to do before the season opens.”

  Eliot galloped ahead. Zoey was happy to see him running again. It was almost as if yesterday’s illness had never happened. “Thomas, come on and I’ll show you where Zoey and I sleep. It’s really cool.”

  Does he have to show Thomas everything?

  Later, when they all sat together in the big tent, Patrick said, “Thanks for leaving the note. That raven of yours was my only welcoming committee when I got back from town.”

  “You saw Midnight?” asked Eliot.

  “Well, I don’t know if it was Midnight, but a raven kept coming around pecking on your tent platform.”

  “Did it have a gray feather on its tail?” asked Thomas.

  “You know about that too?” asked Zoey.

  “Yeah. He hangs around our place sometimes, but I haven’t seen him much lately.”

  “That’s because he’s been here!” Eliot flapped his arms a few times. “Visiting me, Raven Boy! Kraak, kraak!”

  Zoey’s mom set a plate of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on the cable-spool table.

  “I didn’t notice any gray feather,” said Patrick, “but I didn’t look real close. Anyway, I’m glad the weather cooperated and you’re all back safe and sound.”

  Zoey swallowed a big sticky bite and asked with some difficulty, “What will I do when everyone starts fishing?”

  Patrick wiped crumbs off his chin. “There’s more than enough jobs to keep us all busy around here, if you’re up for it.”

  “So you and mom dragged me out here, and now I’m supposed to do slave labor?” Zoey could feel herself getting tense.

  “No, Zoey, I’m talking about a job, where you get paid. You keep saying you want to earn money this summer.”