One Year in Coal Harbor (17 page)

The protest annoyed the loggers and slowed down the logging but even so, the trees kept coming down and the scar grew larger and sadder-looking.

Ked and I went to the protest every day to watch but hadn’t seen the arrests yet because they happened mornings when we were in school. Ked didn’t seem to care about this so much but I secretly wanted to see them before I made up my mind about whether or not I would let myself get arrested. The only day we could do this was Saturday.

“I don’t want to miss a day of fishing,” said Ked. He was going out every Saturday now because my dad said he was a huge help and a fast learner.

“You won’t. My dad said he’d wait for you. If we get there by eight we can watch it and then you can go.”

“I don’t want to make your dad wait.”

“He already said it was fine. That with your help on the boat he can afford to leave a bit later. He
wants
us to see the arrests. He says it’s educational. And I don’t want to go without you.”

Ked rolled his eyes but he promised to watch the arrests before going fishing.

Then I felt bad for bullying him into it but not bad enough to say, Don’t come.

We agreed to meet at the beginning of Jackson Road on Saturday morning but when I got there Ked was nowhere to be seen. It was already after eight. I could hear the protesters from way down the road, singing. I debated pushing on ahead, hoping Ked would figure things out and find me. I waited at the end of the road another ten minutes, and when he still hadn’t come, it occurred to me that maybe he had changed his mind and gone straight down to the docks. Just in case he had been held up for some other reason, I waited yet another ten minutes. When he still hadn’t shown up, I knew he wasn’t coming so I biked on toward the protesters alone.

At the end of the road there was a huge crush of people.
More than there ever was later in the day. Apparently everyone liked watching the arrests. The sheriff hadn’t arrived yet so I looked for a good viewing point. I tried to peer over shoulders but I couldn’t see anything over the sea of people. Some of the protesters had built little platforms in the trees farther back in the forest as the second line of defense for when the time came. If I could climb that high I would get a bird’s-eye view. I walked my bike up the mountain to a platformed tree and managed to climb up just as the sheriff rolled around in his car. Ked was
really
going to be sorry he missed this, I thought. It felt historic and dramatic. Full of pomp and ceremony, the way a good parade is. Good parades always make me teary and I fogged up a bit as the sheriff strode from his car to the protesters, court injunction in hand. Everyone was so serious and full of suppressed emotion, which seemed to manifest in a strange stilted version of their normal selves.

The chief logger went up to the first girl chained to the log and asked her if she was going to move and she said, “No, sir, I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not.” Her voice was shaking slightly, whether with the import of the moment or sudden fear, you couldn’t tell. Then the sheriff showed her the court injunction and she said, “I’m sorry. I wish no violence but I cannot move from this spot. I break the law as a matter of conscience. These trees should remain for our children and our children’s children.”

Nobody was talking the way they usually did. There was a solemnity and formality to their language that was a little awkward and embarrassing but you could tell they felt their normal vernacular didn’t fit the majesty of the occasion, the way no one talks normally in church but feels they have to hark back to an earlier, more grandiloquent era. I was surprised she didn’t throw in some
thee
s and
thou
s.

Then the sheriff arrested her and put her in the car and moved on to the next protester. He got to one of the protesting grannies and asked her to move and she said, “No, sir, I’m sorry but I can’t. I do this for your grandchildren and for mine. I have seen miles of ancient forest removed in my lifetime and have been to many futile protests. As far as I’m concerned this is now an emergency situation.”

The poor sheriff looked as sad as she did when he handcuffed her. He could only haul two protesters away at a time so he had to make three trips to the jail and back. By the time he was done I was chilly and hungry. I decided to bike back to ask Bert and Evie if Ked had left a message for me, like, Sorry I was too much of a weasel to go to the arrests.

As I biked to the trailer park I got more and more irritated with him. If he hadn’t planned to come he should have just said so in the first place. Or at least stopped off to tell me so on his way to the docks. But as soon as Bert
opened the door I knew something was terribly wrong. Bert looked at me and at first he didn’t say anything, as if he didn’t even know who I was. I heard Evie crying in Ked’s bedroom.

“What’s the matter?” I asked. “What has happened?”

Bert hemmed and hawed and pulled at his face until Evie opened the bedroom door, asking, “Who is it?” through her sobs. When she saw me, she wiped her face and very quietly took me over to the couch.

“Honey, I got some bad news for you. But we got to think it’s good news for Ked.”

“What?”
I said too sharply.

“His dad came,” she said.

“And a social worker,” said Bert.

“His
DAD
?” I said. “
WHAT
dad?”

“Well, he has a dad just like a lot of people. You know we don’t get no big details about these things. We were told his dad was out—”

“Out of
WHERE
?” I interrupted.

“We don’t know. It isn’t our business. That’s just what the social worker said, his dad was out and wanted to get Ked because he was taking off right away and Ked had to go with him.”

“Taking him off to
where
?”

“We don’t know. We kind of hoped someone would tell us, Ked even, but no one did. We don’t know much of anything.”

“But Ked didn’t want to go, did he? Couldn’t he tell the social worker he wanted to stay here? He’s coming back, isn’t he?”

“No, honey,” said Bert. “These kids, they’re just with us for a while. They’re not permanent. We get them over a bad patch. Now his dad has got him back.”

“His dad must
ALWAYS
be having bad patches because Ked’s always getting put places. And he wants to stay here. He found a home here. He can
fish
here.”

“Well, we don’t know what he wanted. He didn’t say much, Primrose. It wasn’t up to him to begin with, and he must have had mixed feelings, and if it’s a shock for you, think how it must have been for him, his dad just showing up so suddenlike,” said Evie.

“Well, they did call first, Evie,” said Bert. “Last night. To say they were coming. And I got a feeling it didn’t surprise Ked much. He’s used to it.”

“But why didn’t he call me and tell me?”

“Well, the social worker’s call came kind of late.”

“I expect it was all kind of upsetting for him too,” said Evie. “I expect he just didn’t know how to tell you.”

“But he didn’t even say GOODBYE!” I said.

“Some folks can’t,” said Evie.

“That’s a fact,” said Bert.

Then I heard a bark.

“He didn’t take Ruffian?”

I ran into Ked’s bedroom. Ruffian jumped on me and
then I saw the scrapbook Evie had been making Ked with the pictures of him on his first day fishing and its half-made macramé cover.

“No,” said Bert, following me. “We offered, of course, when the dad and social worker were here but the dad didn’t want no dog.”

“Not everyone’s a dog person,” said Evie.

“No, they aren’t,” said Bert.

“But didn’t Ked tell his dad that Ruffian was
his
dog?”

“He did. He did just ask his dad if he couldn’t take Ruffian but the dad said no and that was that.”

“His dad must be a MONSTER!” I said, and I began to cry. I didn’t want to cry in front of Bert and Evie but I couldn’t help it.

“We can’t believe that, Primrose,” said Evie.

“We can’t afford to believe that,” said Bert. “We can’t stand to think that’s so. Some people, well, they just don’t understand dogs. They’re not dog people. We gotta think he’ll be good to Ked in other ways.”

“Did Ked say anything like he’d call or write or did he leave a message for me?”

“To tell you the truth, Primrose, after we got the call saying they were coming to get him, he didn’t say much of anything at all.”

E
VERYONE WAS ALMOST AS
sad as I was that Ked had left. “I should have known he would have shown up unless something like that had happened,” my dad kept saying over and over. He felt bad that he had pushed off with the idea that Ked had decided to be arrested instead of go fishing. “He was one of the best workers I ever saw. And the most conscientious. I should have known.”

“But no one could have known,” I said.

For a while I kept thinking that it was a mistake and I would find Ked returned to Bert and Evie. I wanted to go check every day after school in case he had shown up. But I didn’t want Bert and Evie to figure out I was coming over hopefully. It would just rub things in. They were upset enough as it was. I knew I should visit them without
Ked being there but I just couldn’t. I’d be listening for his footsteps constantly.

Then one day after school as I walked Mallomar on the beach, enjoying, to be truthful, not having to leash her for Ruffian’s sake, I got to feeling guilty. Even if it was painful, I should at least go to the trailer long enough to pick up Ruffian and continue with Ked’s program of socializing him by making him walk with Mallomar. I knew it was what Ked would want.

Every day after school I planned to bite the bullet and go see Bert and Evie and take Ruffian off their hands for an hour. And every day, halfway there I would turn around and go home instead.

I didn’t watch the protests all week either. Everyone left me alone to mope, except for Eleanor, who rushed up to me at recess to tell me how awful the mountain was looking.

“The whole top is bare now,” she said.

“Is that supposed to make me happy?” I asked.

“Miss Bowzer is getting arrested next,” she said importantly.

“Impossible. She’s on the side of the loggers. She wouldn’t even sign the letter.”

“Well, I guess she changed her mind. So now you’re not the only one who gets to help out at The Girl on the Red Swing. My mom is going to help out and she said I could too.”

That Eleanor would be working there and I didn’t even know that Miss Bowzer needed help made me feel really cut off.

“Mr. and Mrs. Abruzzi are helping too,” said Eleanor.

“Bert and Evie?” I said. I realized that even though Ked had left, the town was still functioning, with people helping each other while I had crept off to lick my wounds. So after school I charged over to see if they had made arrangements for someone to take Ruffian the day they’d be working at the restaurant. Evie said the people next door were watching him.

“We didn’t want to ask you, honey,” said Evie.

“Or your mom,” said Bert.

“Because we knew you, well, needed a little time to get used to it.”

“Have you heard from him or the social worker or anything?” I asked.

“Not from Ked, but the social worker said he and his dad arrived safely in Yellowknife.”

“YELLOWKNIFE?” I cried. “That’s the Northwest Territories!”

“Well, I guess it is,” said Bert.

“It’s FREEZING there. There’s nothing but ice and snow and tundra. There are no fishing boats there.”

“Now, I’ve known folks go up there and fall in love with the North. They got northern lights.”

“And probably those beautiful polar bears. I’ve always
thought polar bears looked so mystical,” said Evie. “He’ll see lots of beautiful things he wouldn’t have no chance to otherwise.”

“He might love it there, Primrose,” said Bert.

“He won’t. And all he has is a thin little Windbreaker. And the rain jacket you bought him.”

“Oh, I’m sure his dad has bought him a good warm coat by now,” said Evie, but she didn’t look sure at all. Her eyes got all big as if it had suddenly occurred to her too that Ked might be shivering even as we spoke.

I almost wished I didn’t know where he had gone. That I could imagine him in some coastal village where he was warm enough and could fish.

“Well, now at least I can write him.”

“Honey, we’re not supposed to tell anyone about him without his wishes and he didn’t leave no wishes. Besides, we don’t have an address. He might not even be there still, his dad might be just staying there temporary.”

“Well, he’ll write to
us
, won’t he?”

“We gotta hope he does because we got no way to contact him,” said Evie.

“But, honey,” said Bert, “if he don’t, you can’t take it personally. We’ve had a lot of these kids over the years and sometimes, you know, they get placed in a lot of different homes. I got the feeling Ked was and they can’t all keep up all the time.”

“But this was different,” I said.

“I’m sure it was, honey,” said Bert. “But you gotta know how hard it is for these kids. Sometimes it’s easier for them to let go.”

I took Ruffian and walked to the beach. I did a run down the sand with the two dogs. They pulled me so hard that I felt like they were my dogsled team and I imagined this brought me closer to Ked. I was sure Bert and Evie were wrong. I was sure I’d have a letter by the following week. If Ked wrote as soon as he got there, the letter should easily be with me Monday.

But it wasn’t. Not Monday or Tuesday or Wednesday. Thursday Miss Bowzer was to be arrested. I stopped at The Girl on the Red Swing after school to see how Bert and Evie were getting on. The restaurant was full and everyone was enjoying the new menu, as of course Evie had put mini marshmallows in everything. The seer’s eyes followed me the whole time. I noticed he was digging into Evie’s special Polynesian Jell-O Salad, which was chockablock full of marshmallows. I think Evie put extras on his. Afterward, I picked up Mallomar and went to the trailer park to get Ruffian from Bert and Evie’s neighbors and take him for his run.