Water in the Wilderness

excerpt

“Course not,” she shot back. “He wouldn’t leave without taking Bobby and me with him. I know he wouldn’t.”
But, she realized suddenly, she didn’t know any such thing. He hadn’t been to see them since they had gone to live with Auntie Ruby, he hadn’t even sent them a Christmas present. Had he died? The thought made her insides turn over. No, he couldn’t be dead; he still lived here; he’d fixed the house up for when he brought them home to live with him again. That’s why he’d been too busy to come see them. And wouldn’t he be surprised when he saw them here today! He’d be proud of them, too, for having come all this way by themselves … well, with Ronnie, too.
She bounded up the steps, no longer afraid her foot might get caught in a rotten board. She ran to the door, expecting to push the broken screen aside. But a new metal screen now hung securely in front of a white paneled door. After a moment’s hesitation she pulled the screen door open and grabbed the shiny door knob. It wouldn’t budge. Daddy must be inside, still sleeping of course, because they were real early. She lifted her little fist and banged hard on the wood panel.
With a shock, because she was not expecting it, she felt Ronald grab her arm and pull her hand away. She rounded on him, eyes blazing. “What are you doing? We need to wake up Daddy.”
He pulled her away from the door and quietly pushed the screen back into place. “Your daddy isn’t here,” he whispered, “and we’d better get out of here before someone comes and finds us.”
He began to push her ahead of him down the steps, but she pulled back with all her strength. “No, I’m not leaving.”
Drawing her back to the door, Ronald pointed to a metal plaque on the wall to the left. “See that, Rachael? It says, The Gustafsons. There’s new people here now. C’mon, let’s go.”
Rachael offered no more resistance. Silently, her stomach in knots, she followed Ronald and Bobby out to the street, far enough away that they could not be seen from the house. They stood in a tight little circle, their disappointment so immense as to render them all mute. Rachael had never felt so frightened in her life.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/192676319X

Ken Kirkby, A Painter’s Quest for Canada

excerpt

behind the wheel. Car horns honked behind him. The sound penetrated
as though through a thick fog.
“My God! How obtuse have I been? The obvious is so hard to see. The
Inukshuk – the quintessential image – the one thing that speaks to the
way of life of those people in the far north!”
In a daze, he drove to a nearby park. “The Inukshuk. Can I actually verbalize
what it represents? If one can imagine an ancient people, very small
numbers, a few families at a time travelling great distances across the land
– a very difficult land – and coming upon these directional markers indicating
where to go. But from all that I have gleaned, they were there before
the Inuit came. I heard the elders say that the Tunit – who were giants
with children’s minds – built the very large ones, which were a different
shape. Most of the Inuksuit were small – they were probably hunting devices.
The Inuksuit are a language written on the land.”
The Inuksuit are everything.
He drove back to the studio and started painting Arctic scenes dominated
by the Inuksuit. For the first time people began to look at the Arctic
paintings with interest. One day, he overheard a conversation between
Henri and a customer, in the frame factory below his studio on the mezzanine.
“I think Kirkby’s a nice guy but I think it’s bullshit. I don’t think Canada
has any of these things. I think he’s invented this as a marketing ploy.”
Interesting. He asked questions, and confirmed that people thought he
was an excellent promoter who had invented stories, of a faraway place,
that were designed to bring attention to him and his work.
To overcome this doubt and scepticism, I realized I was going to have to
pull off something on an absolutely massive scale. Scale played a role in it. If
I was going to be seen as a promoter – fine – let’s go with it. Let’s not fight it.
People want the artist to be peculiar. So I decided, fine, I’m going to play this
to the hilt. I am going to be a social engineer. As Stalin said, “The engineer
of human souls”.
The painting for First Canadian Place built and built in his mind until
his vision seemed almost real. He knew that one day the image would
explode from his mind onto canvas and when it did, it would be perfect.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073573

Swamped

excerpt

“Regular time?”
“Yes.”
He got up and walked down the hallway of Pacific Trends until
he reached the washroom. He was standing in front of a urinal when
John Mellino walked in and stood next to him.
“How are you, buddy?” John asked.
“All good. Are you keeping an eye on Platinum Properties?”
“Like a hawk. I’ve made some good dollars lately, thanks a lot,
buddy,” Mellino laughed. “How’s everything else with you?” Mellino
asked, turning his head and meeting Eteo’s eyes.
“What do you mean?”
“You know … The ladies in your life.” He paused, then added,
“Susan, for example, is everything okay?”
“It’s all good, John.”
“She’s a good woman … and very attractive.”
It was Eteo’s turn to look into John’s eyes.
“Yes, very attractive,” he agreed with the head trader, then walked
out of the washroom.
Eteo’s thoughts ran from one scenario to the other. He knew a
few of his colleagues were talking about him and Susan. It was obvious,
but his stomach was in knots and his pulse accelerated as he
walked back to his office. He sat and turned his chair eastward.
A few minutes later he turned back to his list and focused on the
task at hand. He made a few calls. He cleaned up a few accounts.
Time passed quickly again until the closing bell announced the end
of trading. He said goodbye to Helena and Logan and left.
His mind was all over the universe as he drove along West Georgia
Street toward North Vancouver. The traffic was heavy, unusual
for this time of the day. One of the reasons Eteo enjoyed his job was
that he had to start very early, since the stock market got going from
6:30 am, and so he finished equally early in the afternoon, at 1:30.
He arrived at his house just before Alex arrived from school with
his buddy James, a well-mannered boy and the only one of Alex’s
friends who showed respect when he was around Eteo. They both
greeted him just as after he had changed into his afternoon clothes
ready to go for his walk.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08WP3LMPX