Moriah saw Chief Moawa’s vicious, painted face behind every bush, behind every tree, behind every boulder. She was terrified and could not stop sobbing.
“Be quiet,” Akawe demanded in a rough whisper. “If you want to live, stop crying!” She bit the inside of her mouth until it bled, swallowed her sobs, trembled with the effort to keep silent.
In spite of her valiant attempt to be quiet as Akawe and Rashawe maneuvered across a wet, creaking, rope bridge that spanned a deep gorge, a sudden cry escaped her lips. Akawe, startled, lost his balance. For an eternity, he fought, suspended over the gorge. Then, Rashawe thrust his spear toward him. Akawe caught it and regained his balance. Moriah, frozen with fear, immobilized and helpless, believed with all her heart that all three would plunge to their deaths if she ever again made the slightest sound.
With Katherine and Nicolas in the kitchen and Ben down at his cabin for a few minutes, Moriah poured herself a second cup of coffee and wandered over to the fireplace. She felt a little chilled, even though it was the dead of summer. The coldness, she knew, came entirely from within and the memories she now had to deal with almost on a daily basis.
Part of her wanted to shove them back inside the mental Pandora’s Box from which they’d emerged, but she knew she had to have the courage to face them if she was ever going to be whole. She sat down on one of the sofas, pulled an afghan around her shoulders, and closed her eyes.
The lift of the plane was frightening as it spirited her away. She felt small and helpless flying through the air with a stranger, a missionary priest from the convent school. He had been assigned to a new parish in Michigan and was packing for his trip when Akawe brought her to the school. Since the priest was already leaving, it was faster for Grandpa and Katherine to meet him at the airport in Detroit than for them to try to come to her. They were already on their way to Michigan, he told her.
The priest, a kind man, kept trying to cheer her up with little games and stories, but the knowledge that her mother and father were gone knotted her stomach into a giant, painful fist. She even shook her head at the snack the stewardess offered.
Her aunt and grandfather were waiting for her at the Detroit airport when she disembarked, and she clung to them, wordless, afraid to let go, afraid they’d disappear. They thanked the priest for accompanying her, and when her grandfather lifted her up in his arms, his face was wet with tears.
Katherine tried to comfort her as they drove home. “See Moriah? We're crossing the bridge back into Canada. We're getting closer and closer to home.”
She buried her head in her aunt's lap as Grandpa drove and she chewed the ear off a stuffed bunny Katherine had brought along. She tried to ignore a roaring in her head that sounded like a giant waterfall as they crossed the long, rumbling bridge into Canada.
They traveled for hours into the heart of Ontario. Then, they waited in line to pull up onto a huge gangplank and into the bowels of the giant Chi-Cheemaun ferry. She heard the great clank of the motor and fought like a wild animal when Katherine tried to make her leave the car.
Katherine told her the other children ran about the ferry playing tag. Other children tossed bread crusts to seagulls circling the open deck. Other children begged nickels and dimes off their parents and ran to buy candy at the concession stand. It was fun on the ferry, Katherine said.
But Moriah refused. She wanted to stay in the car.
Staying in the car was not allowed by the ferry officials. They said it was dangerous. She fought like a tiger to stay. In the end, Katherine had to overpower her and carry her up the steep stairs of the ferry and into a large, open room. Moriah spent the rest of the two hour ferry ride in a fetal position ripping the other ear off the bunny with her baby teeth, while her aunt sat next to her, stroking her hair and crying.
After the ferry docked and they were allowed to get back into the car and drive off the ferry onto dry land, Katherine lifted Moriah to look out the window.
“We’re on Manitoulin Island now, sweetie.” She smoothed Moriah’s hair away from her eyes. “You're safe here. Grandpa and I won’t let anything bad happen to you. You won’t ever have to go away to that bad place again. You’re back on Manitoulin Island with us. You are in the safest place in the world.”
Moriah jumped up from the sofa and pasted a smile on her face when Ben returned for breakfast. Nicolas and Katherine were carrying four plates heaped with food to the table.
“Katherine,” Ben ogled the biscuits and gravy, “Will you marry me? We can have biscuits and gravy every morning? It will be a good life.”
Nicolas sputtered and nearly dropped the plates. Moriah seated herself at the table, ignoring Ben’s banter. She wasn’t hungry. Not now. Not after reliving her trip from the jungle back to Manitoulin.
Katherine calmly sat the two plates she carried onto the table in front of Ben and Moriah. “Just say grace, Ben, and quit annoying Nicolas.”
“Father, please keep us and our workers safe on the job today. Thank you for this food as well as for the gift of Katherine, who prepared it, and thank you for the fact that Moriah adores me. Amen.” He slanted a glance in Moriah's direction.
“Just eat, Ben,” she said. In spite of the melancholy she had felt moments before, she felt a little better. Ben’s good nature had revived her, as usual.
“So, what are your plans today?” Nicolas shook out his napkin and centered it on his lap.
“Still working on bringing down the tower. It’s tedious work. Plus, I suspect that the only thing holding some of it up was the metal stair structure inside.” Ben poured a glass of juice from a pitcher sitting on the table. “We’re having to disengage the inner staircase from the stones before we can bring them down. It isn’t easy, but it can be done if we’re careful.”
“Will you be able to salvage the staircase?” Nicolas asked.
“I think so.”
“I have an idea for the lighthouse, I would like to mention.” Katherine said. Everyone stopped eating to stare. Katherine was the only one of them who’d not yet expressed an opinion about the restoration, even though she was the only one who had actually lived in the place. If she had an idea, they wanted to hear it.
“I think the appearance of the entire structure would benefit by laying a stone wall around it, cottage included.” Katherine’s voice was slightly apologetic. “I know it would be a lot of work, but my mother saw a picture of a lighthouse once that had a low stone wall surrounding it. A flower garden had been planted within, and my mother always wanted to do the same. She and Dad had to move out before they could get around to it.”
Everyone was silent, contemplating the image.
Nicolas made a decision. “I’ll pay extra.”
“What do you think?” Moriah asked Ben.
“She’s right. I should have thought of it earlier. It’s exactly what the place needs. A dry stone wall, one without mortar, would be best. It could shift with the extremes of temperature that you get on this island. There is much loose stone lying around, and it would be a good way to use some of it.”
“Could you teach me?” Moriah said. “I’d like to learn how to build a stone wall.”
“Of course,” Ben said, “I’ll give you a lesson today if you want.”