new life in Parr’s Landing
would be any less hand-to-mouth than her old life in their house in the
Cabbagetown district of Toronto.
“Morgan—” There was a warning edge to Christina’s voice.
“Your
grandmother
is rich,” Jeremy corrected. “Well, she’s not as rich
as the family used to be before the thirties. But yeah, she’s rich.” Jeremy
looked across the table at Christina. This time, she was the one who
winced. “But she’s very stingy, so it doesn’t matter if she’s rich or not. It
doesn’t matter to
us,
anyway. But you’ll get to stay in a beautiful house,
one that’s so big you won’t hardly have to see the rest of us unless you
want to.”
“Beautiful, beautiful,” Morgan said sullenly. “I always know when
you’re lying because you say things like ‘beautiful’ instead of describing
them properly. It’s not beautiful at all, is it? It sounds like an old witch’s
castle or something. Daddy said she was an ogress. He said she ate her
young. I bet it’s a horrible house.”
Jeremy smiled. “I think your father was speaking metaphorically,
sweetheart. Did he really say that she ate her children?” He laughed. “Did
he actually use that phrase—that exact phrase?”
“Yeah, he did. Why?”
“Because that was my line. That was something I said to him once
about your grandma. I was kidding, of course. I don’t think she literally
eats her young. Although, she might want to eat her granddaughter. You
never know. You’re delicious.” Across the table, Christina felt Morgan
relaxing. Jeremy had succeeded in distracting her from her fretfulness.
She’d started to giggle. Jeremy continued, his voice ominous. “The
winters are very long up here and Parr’s Landing is in Wendigo country.”
“What’s a Windiggy?”
“Not ‘Windiggy,’
Wendigo
. It’s an Indian legend. The Wendigo was a
cannibal spirit that possessed men and made them eat human flesh.”
“That’s disgusting,” Morgan said, her nose wrinkled in distaste. “I
bet it’s fake anyway. There’s no such thing.”
“When we’re settled in, I’ll take you up to Spirit Rock,” Jeremy said.
“I’ll show you the Indian paintings on the cliffs above Bradley Lake. You
can see for yourself. They’re supposed to be paintings of a real Wendigo.
Your dad and I used to swim there when we were kids. Everyone in town
has seen them.”
“For real?” Morgan’s blasé façade of adolescent disinterest slipped
momentarily. She’d loved legends and stories ever since she was a little
girl, something Jeremy had clearly remembered and was now using to
his advantage. Christina again met his eyes but this time she smiled. He
smiled back.
“Well, the paintings are three hundred or so years old,” Jeremy
said seriously. “And they’re pretty faded. But yeah, that’s what they’re
supposed to be. There was a Jesuit missionary settlement on the site of
the town sometime in the seventeenth century. There are lots of stories
about it. Parr’s Landing is a pretty interesting place if you know what to
look for.”
“Mom, why didn’t you tell me any of this stuff when I was growing
up?”
“Oh,” Christina said, affecting nonchalance. “I don’t know. It’s
something you really need to see for yourself.”
I didn’t tell you any of this
stuff because I didn’t want to think about any of it. I wanted to forget it all.
And I never wanted you to be curious enough about it to go find out about it
on your own. You were supposed to be my city girl. And instead, here we are.
“It’s really a beautiful town in its own way, Morgan. I think you’re going
to like it a lot. At least let’s try to give it a chance, shall we?” She looked
hopefully at Morgan. She laid her hand on top of her daughter’s, much as
Jeremy had done earlier, but this time Morgan didn’t pull her hand away.
She squeezed her mother’s hand. “OK, mom, I promise. It’ll be OK,
you’ll
would be any less hand-to-mouth than her old life in their house in the
Cabbagetown district of Toronto.
“Morgan—” There was a warning edge to Christina’s voice.
“Your
grandmother
is rich,” Jeremy corrected. “Well, she’s not as rich
as the family used to be before the thirties. But yeah, she’s rich.” Jeremy
looked across the table at Christina. This time, she was the one who
winced. “But she’s very stingy, so it doesn’t matter if she’s rich or not. It
doesn’t matter to
us,
anyway. But you’ll get to stay in a beautiful house,
one that’s so big you won’t hardly have to see the rest of us unless you
want to.”
“Beautiful, beautiful,” Morgan said sullenly. “I always know when
you’re lying because you say things like ‘beautiful’ instead of describing
them properly. It’s not beautiful at all, is it? It sounds like an old witch’s
castle or something. Daddy said she was an ogress. He said she ate her
young. I bet it’s a horrible house.”
Jeremy smiled. “I think your father was speaking metaphorically,
sweetheart. Did he really say that she ate her children?” He laughed. “Did
he actually use that phrase—that exact phrase?”
“Yeah, he did. Why?”
“Because that was my line. That was something I said to him once
about your grandma. I was kidding, of course. I don’t think she literally
eats her young. Although, she might want to eat her granddaughter. You
never know. You’re delicious.” Across the table, Christina felt Morgan
relaxing. Jeremy had succeeded in distracting her from her fretfulness.
She’d started to giggle. Jeremy continued, his voice ominous. “The
winters are very long up here and Parr’s Landing is in Wendigo country.”
“What’s a Windiggy?”
“Not ‘Windiggy,’
Wendigo
. It’s an Indian legend. The Wendigo was a
cannibal spirit that possessed men and made them eat human flesh.”
“That’s disgusting,” Morgan said, her nose wrinkled in distaste. “I
bet it’s fake anyway. There’s no such thing.”
“When we’re settled in, I’ll take you up to Spirit Rock,” Jeremy said.
“I’ll show you the Indian paintings on the cliffs above Bradley Lake. You
can see for yourself. They’re supposed to be paintings of a real Wendigo.
Your dad and I used to swim there when we were kids. Everyone in town
has seen them.”
“For real?” Morgan’s blasé façade of adolescent disinterest slipped
momentarily. She’d loved legends and stories ever since she was a little
girl, something Jeremy had clearly remembered and was now using to
his advantage. Christina again met his eyes but this time she smiled. He
smiled back.
“Well, the paintings are three hundred or so years old,” Jeremy
said seriously. “And they’re pretty faded. But yeah, that’s what they’re
supposed to be. There was a Jesuit missionary settlement on the site of
the town sometime in the seventeenth century. There are lots of stories
about it. Parr’s Landing is a pretty interesting place if you know what to
look for.”
“Mom, why didn’t you tell me any of this stuff when I was growing
up?”
“Oh,” Christina said, affecting nonchalance. “I don’t know. It’s
something you really need to see for yourself.”
I didn’t tell you any of this
stuff because I didn’t want to think about any of it. I wanted to forget it all.
And I never wanted you to be curious enough about it to go find out about it
on your own. You were supposed to be my city girl. And instead, here we are.
“It’s really a beautiful town in its own way, Morgan. I think you’re going
to like it a lot. At least let’s try to give it a chance, shall we?” She looked
hopefully at Morgan. She laid her hand on top of her daughter’s, much as
Jeremy had done earlier, but this time Morgan didn’t pull her hand away.
She squeezed her mother’s hand. “OK, mom, I promise. It’ll be OK,
you’ll
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