Just as I'm about to panic, the door to our hotel room opens and my mother enters. Seeing my distressed face, she runs over to me.

"Evie, I'm right here!" She hugs me, tightly. "Don't worry, I'm right here."

"Where were you?"

"I was asking the office why there was no heat. I tried calling them, but no one answered."

"Please don't leave without telling me! I was so frightened! I thought you'd left me behind."

"I would never do that, Evie. I love you!"

The next day the roads have been cleared and by noontime, we arrive at my Aunt Louise's home.

I've always wanted to be part of my Aunt Louise's family. They're a large, loving, close knit family like the Waltons. If the Waltons lived in Canada. My Aunt Louise is a jovial, vivacious person, who reminds me of Elizabeth Taylor. She's raised eight children by herself, since her husband was an alcoholic. She's been very successful managing to survive without a husband. She started a small flower shop which I find quite magical.

She greets us at the door, smiling. "C'est Bon. I've received an order for another funeral."
After we're settled in, my mother disappears downstairs into the work shop with my aunt to discuss her options.

None of my cousins are home. They're all either working, or living apprenticeship programs. I feel so out of place. In one of the back rooms, I find an elderly woman reading on a chair. She looks up and smiles when I pause in the doorway. She has long, dark hair, like my mother, but her Native American heritage is more pronounced. I can tell she's a proud woman just by the way she's sitting up straight.

A woman who's married to one of my cousins, Lizette, approaches. She says a few words to the old woman, then addresses me in English.

"Evie, it's so good to see you!"  She takes my hand in hers.

"It's good to see you too, Lizette. Who is that elderly woman?"

"Oh, that's Aunt Yvonne, your mother's aunt. Poor woman, no one on her side of her family wants to keep her.

"Why not?" I ask. "She looks like she has Cherokee in her. I've always wondered what tribe my mother's family was descended from?"

"No, no, Evie. We don't talk about such things.

"Why, not? I'm perplexed by her reaction.

"Their Indian blood carries insanity."

"What?" Disgusted, I pull my hand away from hers. Looking at this overweight, dyed haired, human bon-bon, I feel nothing but shocked revulsion. For the first time in my life, I see a crack in the veneer of my perfect Canadian family.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Three days before Christmas, I get a nice surprise. Ryan's arrived to spend the holiday with us. When I see him, "I run up and give him a big hug." He hugs me back but his normal warm vibe is missing. He looks unsettled.

"Sorry Evie. I'm glad to see you, I just hate the cold weather here."

"I can understand, we're both not dressed for it. Did you know Lizette's working here? I just found out she's racist against mom's sister. The only one who speaks fluent English is racist. Can you believe that?"

He shakes his head, not answering me. I can see his mind is a thousand miles away. During Christmas dinner, I'm alarmed to see Ryan's begin drinking to deal with his problems. He's not a mean drunk, like our father, but he's like a train without brakes.

One of our cousins received a polaroid camera for his Christmas gift. Eagerly, he snaps a few photos of the Christmas dinner celebration, then passes the little square photographs around so we can see them develop right before our eyes.

I see the picture of Ryan and I, standing against the dining room wall. Neither of us are smiling. Ryan's hands are clasped together, in front of his torso. Probably to keep them from moving. When he's not working, he's always agitated,  full of nervous energy. I frown when I look at more closely at his hair . It looks so dark and blurry. I recoil, nearly dropping the photo when I see the aura of dark shadows crowning his head. I immediately glance at my brother to see if these shadows are visible to the naked eye, but the area above his head looks totally normal.

"What?" He says, noticing me staring at him.

"Nothing." I put the photo in my pocket.