Then Comes Raymond Walkingstick
The January day after Raymond Walkingstick retired from his Seattle law firm, he visited Hansen’s Landing for the first time in thirty-five years. Hansens and the Landing once gave him reason to live. He needed them again, to renew his spirit. There were times when he felt his spirit had been born at the Landing, though he couldn’t explain why, certain that his physical body had been born on the Suquamish Indian Reservation.
He found Ragnar Hansen aged but agile, planting fir seedlings at the edge of the creek that crossed Hansen property. Raymond introduced himself, and nodded when Ragnar said, “Lydia send you?” He changed into work clothes he carried in his truck and used his cane to lower his stiff body to Hansen earth, certain Lydia wanted him to help with the planting.
In his earliest memory, his mother called him Raymond. They lived in a long house built of cedar, with many people and few walls. The house had a high roof that let in slices of light. He played with other children on the beach where they collected clams exposed by their digging sticks. He listened to the elders’ stories. Sometimes he floated on the water in a boat and wiggled his bare feet in fish the men pulled in. Afterward, his feet sparkled with silver dots.
Then a man named Raymond Morse came in a smaller boat and took him and his mother away.
In that memory, his mother called him Edward. The man never spoke in words to him, but Edward understood eyes, and he went into the woods when the man gave him the look. They lived many places, always by the sea. His mother and Raymond Morse made houses of driftwood and mats, and paddled off in the small boat. Edward remained on the beach. He played with shells and rocks and sticks, and waited for his mother to come back.
In the season when the maple leaves change color, Raymond Morse and his mother made their home on an inlet. A stream flowed into the inlet. Edward carried water from the stream to the driftwood house. Raymond Morse caught many silvery fish there. Edward’s mother stopped fishing. She stayed on the beach and told Edward stories, and said, “Soon you will have a playmate.” A man with light skin and hair came, and then another, but his mother shook her head. “No, Edward, they are not your playmates. They are the men who own the land and trees, and the rocks and shells, and all but fish in the sea.”
The men brought food and took away fish. Edward followed the men, though he didn’t let them know he followed. Sometimes they stopped by a house with three walls. Most times they went through the woods to a road made of slippery logs. Beyond the road were bushes and a big house, almost as big as the one where he’d lived before he became Edward.
Rains came, and cold. Edward and his mother stayed inside the driftwood and mat shelter. His mother wrapped them in blankets and mats, and held him so he couldn’t leave. Edward missed the woods and the things he found pushing up through dry needles and mosses. He missed seeing the big houses.
The men from the houses came again, two at once. A woman came with them and, even then, Edward knew she brought something just for him. The men talked; then the woman said, “I am Lydia Hansen. The men are my husband’s brothers.” She said other things, important things about a war and bombs, and hiding the fire at night so the Japanese planes wouldn’t see them. She talked about a baby. Edward watched her and listened to every word, and saw something in her face when her mouth stretched and her eyes went soft.
Lydia Hansen said, “Come with me.” She took one of his hands, his mother took the other, and they followed the men into the woods, to the house with three walls. It had a black box with a fire inside. A kettle atop the box sent steam into the air. The woman gave them tea with sugar stirred in. His mother sat on a bed near the fire box, tears running down her cheeks. The men disappeared, but soon Edward saw them coming through the trees with the mats and blankets and cooking things from the driftwood house.
The men put posts along the opening on the house with the firebox and bed. They nailed up boards and put in a door and a window. Lydia Hansen brought books and read words to him. Soon, he read words to her, and her mouth stretched often, and her eyes went soft.
