Dana Stabenow - Whisper to the Blood

Contrary to conventional wisdom, Annie had not retreated. Instead, she had soldiered on, doing her duty by Association as secretary-treasurer and by Park as an upstanding Park rat, first in line to offer aid and comfort to those in need. She was pretty much an auntie in waiting, Kate thought. She looked up now from her computer, and the sympathy in her expression made Kate realize that the four board members were sitting in various states of impatience, waiting for Kate to start the meeting.

She looked down at the agenda. Reading and approval of minutes.

Reports. Unfinished business. New business. How hard could this be? She sat up straight and cleared her throat. "Okay. Somebody read the minutes so we can approve them."

There was silence. Kate looked up. "What?"

There was a look of dawning realization in Harvey 's eyes, along with a growing and malicious amusement. "You have to call the meeting to order first."

"Oh. Uh, okay then. I call the meeting to order. Who reads the minutes?" She looked at Annie. "You're the secretary, right, Annie? You take the minutes, right? So you probably read them, too. So go ahead."

Another uncomfortable silence. Harvey settled back in his chair, folded his arms, and looked like someone sitting in the front row of a Steve Martin concert, with balloons.

Harvey, fifty-three, born in Niniltna but raised in Anchorage, was a commercial fisherman like Old Sam and a professional hunting guide like Demetri. Active in local politics, a crony of district senator Pete Heiman, his past term on the state board of fish and game had been notable for his vocal and vociferous and often incendiary support of increasing the length of the hunting and fishing seasons and upping the legal limits on anything with fur or fins. Ekaterina had backed Harvey 's ascension to the NNA board as a sop to pro-development voices in the Association, and had lived to regret it when he openly supported development in Iqaluk. While he had his adherents, there were among NNA shareholders people still suffering the effects of the RPetCo Juneau oil spill who as vociferously disagreed.

Annie looked at Auntie Joy and the two women communed in silence for a moment.

"What?" Kate said.

"You not read your minutes, Katya?" Auntie Joy said. "What minutes?" Kate said.

Auntie Joy's radiance dimmed still further. "Viola bring you the minutes, Katya."

"No, she didn't," Kate said indignantly.

Auntie Joy nodded. She wasn't enjoying herself. "Last month, Katya. One U-Haul box."

"Auntie, I-" Kate remembered Auntie Vi's visit the previous month. "Cardboard? Brown?" she said without much hope.

"Auntie Vi bring."

Kate slumped a little. "Auntie Vi bring." Where had she left that box? She had a vague memory of putting it in the back of Johnny's truck. It couldn't still be there, could it?

"And Katya not read," Auntie Joy said sorrowfully.

"No." Then Kate rallied. "So what? The agenda says for them to be read and approved. So somebody read them, for crying out loud."

Next to her Harvey chuckled, a little louder than was perhaps strictly necessary. "The rest of us already have, Kate."

"So what?" Kate said again. "The agenda says read them, we read them."

"You see, Kate," Harvey said, enjoying himself hugely, "Annie sends out the draft minutes of the last meeting to all the board members. Board members read them in advance, so we don't have to waste our time reading them during the meeting. Then we approve them."

"Oh."

Auntie Joy said anxiously, "But we read now. Is okay. Okay?" She looked around the table.

Joyce Shugak, eighty-something, was a subsistence fisher, retiring each summer to a fish camp on Amartuq Creek, upstream from Alaganik Bay where all the commercial fishers in the Park got their nets wet. She had been married once, long ago, and the great tragedy of her life was that she had had no children. The result of this child-hunger led her to adopt every soul in the Park from one to a hundred as her very own. She was a plump, cheerful person, easy to please, ready to praise, and if not quite capable of being blind to faults in others, at least nurtured a determined nearsightedness that worked just as well.

Like the other aunties, she spoke a truncated, rhythmic form of English that came from speaking it as a second language, as all the aunties grew up speaking Aluutiq, Eyak, and Athabascan. Kate suspected that they could all of them have spoken flawless English if they had chosen to do so, but by now it was a matter of pride to speak in their self-invented patois. It branded them as Alaska Natives, born and bred and living the life. They were proud of it, and they didn't mind reminding people of that fact every time they opened their mouths, which obviated the necessity of their having to actually say so.

Old Sam shrugged. "Sure," Demetri said. Harvey heaved a sigh and said wearily, "Sure, why not? I've only got six other things that need doing today."

"Yeah," said Old Sam with his patented nasty grin, "but this one you get paid for."

Kate looked at him. "We get paid?"

There was a moment of silence. Annie Mike cleared her throat. "If the board please," she murmured to her laptop, "the secretary will now read the minutes of the last meeting, dated April fifteenth."

"April?" Kate said, still reeling from the information that she would draw a paycheck for this. How much? Did they get paid per meeting or was it all in one check at the end of the year? Or maybe the beginning of the year? She wondered if it would be enough to cover the cost of a new four-wheeler. She could use a new-

"Wait a minute," she said.

Annie paused. "Yes, Kate?"

"April? I thought the last meeting was in July."

Harvey rolled his eyes. "It was cancelled, Kate. You and Old Sam were fishing. Demetri was upriver running his lodge, and the aunties were downriver at fish camp. We didn't have a quorum."

Kate was pretty sure she knew what the word quorum meant from the context but she resolved to look it up in her tattered copy of Webster's Unabridged at the earliest opportunity, just to be sure. "Sorry," she said shortly. "I forgot."

Annie finished reading the minutes. There was silence. "Oh," Kate said. "Am I supposed to say something?"

"Ask if there are any corrections," Harvey said briskly. He even smiled at Kate.

Enjoy yourself while it lasts, asshole, Kate thought. Out loud she said, "Are there any corrections to the minutes?" There weren't, the minutes were approved, and it was with distinct relief that Kate said, "Reports?"

Annie gave the treasurer's report. NNA sounded fiscally healthy to Kate, but then she wasn't the best person ever with numbers, so she resolved to ask Auntie Joy privately.

"Unfinished business?" Kate said.

"I move we table all unfinished business for the moment," Harvey said.

"Second," Demetri said.

"Huh?" Kate said.

Auntie Joy leaned across the table and said, "Motion moved and seconded. In favor say aye. Opposed, say nay."

"Oh. Okay. All in favor say-"

"All in favor of tabling unfinished business," Auntie Joy said. "Okay, all in favor of tabling unfinished business say aye."

"Aye," Harvey said.

"Aye," Demetri said.

Old Sam gave Harvey an appraising glance. "What's this about, Harvey?"

Harvey glared. "Out of order!"

Auntie Joy patted the air with pacific hands. "I say aye, too, Old Sam. No fighting, now."

"Oh, all right," Old Sam said, giving in, but he fixed Harvey with a cold and untrusting eye.

Auntie Joy said encouragingly, "Okay, Katya, motion carried."

"The motion is carried," Kate said obediently.

"No, you say what motion is."

"Oh. Okay. The motion to table unfinished business is carried. By majority vote!"

She couldn't help the note of triumph, and Harvey 's laugh was immediate and unkind, and Kate's hackles rose. She looked down at the agenda. "All right, then I guess we go to new business. Anybody have any new business to discuss?"