War of the Eagles (27 page)

I'm really sorry for all that's happened. Please let your
family know that most of the people, even people like
Major Brown, figure what they did to you was wrong.
I just hope it won't be wrong for too long.

Your best friend,
Jed

p.s. Write again soon.

I put my legs down on the floor and sat up on the couch. Naani was standing at the doorway to my bed–room, wearing Tadi's baseball glove on the wrong hand and kind of pounding her fist in the pocket the way she'd probably seen me doing with my glove.

“Here,” she called out, tossing the glove in my gen–eral direction.

It soared off, nowhere within my reach and bashed into a picture on the table, knocking it to the floor.

“Try to be more careful,” she scolded me in a mock–ing tone.

I picked up the glove and put the picture back on the table.

“Nice baseball hand thing.”

“Glove, it's called a glove, Naani.”

“Yeah, glove. Nice glove … but better envelope.”

“Envelope? What do you mean?”

“Look. What was the first thing you did when you got the glove?”

It was sitting snugly on my hand.

“And what do ya think Tadashi will do, first thing, when he gets that glove in the mail?” she asked.

A smile came to my face. “Put it on, of course,” I laughed. “And when he does, he'll find this letter all crunched up in the tip of one of the fingers.”

“Right.”

“But, what if they won't let him have the glove?”

“A gun they don't let him have. A radio, or camera they keep. Maybe even a knife, no way. A glove, yes. Just write a little letter to him that says nothin except you thought he might like ‘your old glove' and put it in a parcel with the glove. Nobody will figure it out,” she said.

“Naani, I think you're right.”

“'Course I'm right. Haven't I told ya, you don't get this old without getting smart.”

I got up off the couch and threw my arms around her shoulders. I couldn't even imagine a time when she hadn't been smart.

.21.

I exhaled deeply and watched my breath float up and into the sky. It was a crisp morning, but there was a hint of spring in the air. I'd seen a few animals — a momma skunk leading a few kittens and a raccoon — but nothing there was any point in taking a shot at. Funny, despite the lack of success, it still felt good just to be out in the forest, amongst the trees and on my own. Before, a good hunt was marked only by the game I'd brought down or put in my bag. Somehow things had changed. I had to smile; that's the way my grandfather always talked and I never understood what he meant. Now I knew that to be amongst the trees was reward enough.

In the distance, well up above the trees, a large bird floated on the air currents. I pulled my pack off my shoulders and removed a pair of army field glasses that Major Brown had given me. He said with those I could still try to “keep an eye out” for Eddy. They were very powerful and at first I found them difficult to get in focus and sighted on the target, but I was getting bet–ter with them all the time. I scanned the sky until the bird came into view. It was a golden eagle. I followed its circular course, supported by the thermals, until suddenly it dropped down in a dive and was lost in the trees below my sight line. I put the glasses down but left them dangling on my neck.

Since Eddy had gone, I'd become much more aware of the sky. There always seemed to be a raven, a hawk or an eagle on the horizon. Usually they were too far away to see very well, even with the field glasses, but a couple of times I was close enough to be able to tell it wasn't Eddy. So far I hadn't seen a bald eagle trailing a small piece of rope from one of its feet. Naani told me she was sure someone would see him. And once, although I was so far away it could have been the light playing tricks with my eyes, I thought I saw something hanging below an eagle.

As well, as the weeks passed it became more likely that even if it was Eddy, he would have freed himself of the line. I can just picture that old buzzard pecking and pecking away at the rope. He was one stubborn old … I had to chuckle … he did share more with my grand–father than just a liking for rabbit. Not that I believe all those native stories, but if my grandfather could come back to life it would be as an eagle.

Naani had told me to stop spending so much time staring up at the sky; there weren't any rabbits or deer up there. She had a point. I hadn't been bagging nearly the game I did before. I'd told her how I wanted to try and see Eddy and she tried to explain how I still had things backwards; it wasn't me who was supposed to watch out for the eagle, but the eagle who was supposed to be watching out for me.

She was even more insistent than before that Eddy was my grandfather. She was so certain, she said she didn't need to worry about me when I went into the forest alone, because no spirits could harm me.

I couldn't help but miss my father and grandfather and, of course, Tadashi. I think I missed him the most. For the last eight months he'd written me letters and I wrote back, but it couldn't be the same as before. His family had settled in Alberta, where they were work–ing on a farm growing sugar beets. He didn't tell me much about what was happening to them, but he wrote enough for me to know life was hard.

At first we both wrote in our letters about the time when he could return. Then we just hinted at it. Now we both knew he wouldn't be coming back for a long time. Maybe never. I'd heard the looting had continued and more than just things had been taken. The houses themselves were being damaged and destroyed. I hadn't returned to Sikima since the night I removed Tadashi's family belongings. I couldn't bring myself to go back.

My gaze was caught again by an outline of a bird in the sky. As I watched, it circled closer and closer until it was directly overhead. It was close enough now for me to be certain it was a bald eagle. I put the glasses to my eyes and watched in fascination as it glided along, supported by the currents, only occasionally needing to flap its wings to stay aloft. I could see no sign of a line hanging from the leg of the eagle.

I lowered the glasses. Maybe it wasn't Eddy, or maybe it was. Just because I couldn't see it didn't mean any–thing. Just like my Naani said, I shouldn't need proof, just faith when she said my grandfather had returned as an eagle. Somehow her stories made as much sense as anything else anybody had told me. And sometimes you have to close your eyes to open up your heart.

The eagle continued on its slow, circular path above my head. Even though I was alone … I didn't feel so lonely anymore.