commandeered. They took orders from Anita and fell into bed every night praying for deliverance.
“Mom,” said May. “I’m sick of peeling apples. My fingers are about to fall off. Why don’t we use the apple filling that everyone else uses?”
“Because everyone else’s pies aren’t as good as mine.”
“May I ask why we’re making so many pies?” asked China. “At this rate every person will have at least one whole pie to consume.”
“China, we don’t eat the pies, we take them home,” said May grinning.
“It’s a tradition called “guulkiikt,” explained Anita. “There’s such an abundance of food that everyone has to take some home. It shows that the giver of the feast is a wealthy person.”
“Oh,” said China, feeling once again chastened by tradition.
“I should get my Mom to send me a few cases of Hard Tack. We could give each guest a cake to take home.”
“Good idea,” said Anita.
Had China’s joke been taken seriously? She was unsure and looked at May who continued peeling apples. Was that a slight twitch at the edge of May’s mouth, China wondered? At the end of the day China took a shower to get the flour out of her hair and her body orifices. She was totally unresponsive when Sam climbed into bed.
“You smell like apple pie,” sniffed Sam appreciatively.
China groaned and lay like a mattress under Sam’s caresses.
“What’s wrong with you?” asked Sam.
“Fifty apple pies.”
“This Ceremony is killing my sex life,” complained Sam as he thrust his way into China’s limp, apple-smelling body.
“At least you have a sex life. Mine has been crushed beneath a mountain of apple peels.”
“My apples are very ripe and about to burst,” puffed Sam as he pumped faster and faster. “Could you fake it a little? Give a guy a little encouragement?”
China shook with weak laughter and the movement was all the encouragement Sam needed to burst his apples.
~ ~
The next day China and May escaped for tea at Granny’s house. May fussed over Granny, bringing her tea and cookies, while Pop snored quietly on the couch. Marisa sat at the kitchen table sewing Sam’s blanket. It was made of heavy felt and decorated with mother of pearl buttons and bits of shell. It seemed to China that the blanket needed a lot more work before it was completed, but no one else seemed to worry, least of all, Marisa.
“Marisa,” said China. “I’ll help you sew on the buttons if you want.”
“Don’t worry, China, it’ll be done in time,” answered Marisa.
Sam’s head-dress had been ordered from a carver in Halifax but for some reason it hadn’t yet arrived and the carver had returned none of Anita’s frantic phone calls. Finally, one old Chief in the village offered his museum quality head-dress, and Marisa was also making repairs to that, adding more goose down and feathers.
Later that day, China and May finished setting the table for supper and wondered why Sam wasn’t home. Jim, May’s husband, took the plates out of the oven.
“It’s not like Sam to miss a meal,” said Jim.
“Maybe he’s still at the office,” said Anita, dishing up the deer stew.
“I called the office and there was no answer,” said China.
May put plates in front of her sons, Ray and Simon, and slapped hands when they reached for their forks.
“Wait until everyone is seated,” she ordered.
“Is Uncle Sam coming soon?” asked Simon hungrily.
“We’re not waiting for him,” said China.
Just then Sam opened the kitchen door and stood there looking like he’d been run over by a truck in a sand storm.
“What happened to you?” asked Jim.
“I had a little car trouble,” said Sam brushing sand all over the floor.
“Sam, get outside and get those shoes off!” ordered China.
Sam stood outside on the porch and the family watched gleefully as China beat Sam with the broom.
“Sam, why are you always wearing your good jacket when you get into trouble?” asked China angrily.
“Mom,” said May. “I’m sick of peeling apples. My fingers are about to fall off. Why don’t we use the apple filling that everyone else uses?”
“Because everyone else’s pies aren’t as good as mine.”
“May I ask why we’re making so many pies?” asked China. “At this rate every person will have at least one whole pie to consume.”
“China, we don’t eat the pies, we take them home,” said May grinning.
“It’s a tradition called “guulkiikt,” explained Anita. “There’s such an abundance of food that everyone has to take some home. It shows that the giver of the feast is a wealthy person.”
“Oh,” said China, feeling once again chastened by tradition.
“I should get my Mom to send me a few cases of Hard Tack. We could give each guest a cake to take home.”
“Good idea,” said Anita.
Had China’s joke been taken seriously? She was unsure and looked at May who continued peeling apples. Was that a slight twitch at the edge of May’s mouth, China wondered? At the end of the day China took a shower to get the flour out of her hair and her body orifices. She was totally unresponsive when Sam climbed into bed.
“You smell like apple pie,” sniffed Sam appreciatively.
China groaned and lay like a mattress under Sam’s caresses.
“What’s wrong with you?” asked Sam.
“Fifty apple pies.”
“This Ceremony is killing my sex life,” complained Sam as he thrust his way into China’s limp, apple-smelling body.
“At least you have a sex life. Mine has been crushed beneath a mountain of apple peels.”
“My apples are very ripe and about to burst,” puffed Sam as he pumped faster and faster. “Could you fake it a little? Give a guy a little encouragement?”
China shook with weak laughter and the movement was all the encouragement Sam needed to burst his apples.
~ ~
The next day China and May escaped for tea at Granny’s house. May fussed over Granny, bringing her tea and cookies, while Pop snored quietly on the couch. Marisa sat at the kitchen table sewing Sam’s blanket. It was made of heavy felt and decorated with mother of pearl buttons and bits of shell. It seemed to China that the blanket needed a lot more work before it was completed, but no one else seemed to worry, least of all, Marisa.
“Marisa,” said China. “I’ll help you sew on the buttons if you want.”
“Don’t worry, China, it’ll be done in time,” answered Marisa.
Sam’s head-dress had been ordered from a carver in Halifax but for some reason it hadn’t yet arrived and the carver had returned none of Anita’s frantic phone calls. Finally, one old Chief in the village offered his museum quality head-dress, and Marisa was also making repairs to that, adding more goose down and feathers.
Later that day, China and May finished setting the table for supper and wondered why Sam wasn’t home. Jim, May’s husband, took the plates out of the oven.
“It’s not like Sam to miss a meal,” said Jim.
“Maybe he’s still at the office,” said Anita, dishing up the deer stew.
“I called the office and there was no answer,” said China.
May put plates in front of her sons, Ray and Simon, and slapped hands when they reached for their forks.
“Wait until everyone is seated,” she ordered.
“Is Uncle Sam coming soon?” asked Simon hungrily.
“We’re not waiting for him,” said China.
Just then Sam opened the kitchen door and stood there looking like he’d been run over by a truck in a sand storm.
“What happened to you?” asked Jim.
“I had a little car trouble,” said Sam brushing sand all over the floor.
“Sam, get outside and get those shoes off!” ordered China.
Sam stood outside on the porch and the family watched gleefully as China beat Sam with the broom.
“Sam, why are you always wearing your good jacket when you get into trouble?” asked China angrily.
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