legacy, the only one he had. It allowed Samuel to surround himself with the last of Jacob’s physical presence. And Jacob had not died in this room, so there was no need to fear it. Besides, Samuel had spent most of his savings on the move and on setting up shop, so only a rare dollar was left over for anything else.
As soon as he saw Maud he began to apologize. He lacked all passion, and digressed when the words seemed to have no effect on her. By the end even he was waiting for himself to finish.
“Very eloquent, Samuel,” said Maud, “and your timing is, as usual, endearing. But I was only going to ask how your hands were.”
Samuel paused, humiliated. “Fine,” he said.
She turned out the light.
In the darkness, they listened to the wailing weathervane. Samuel moistened his lips and was about to speak, when Maud said, “Just go to sleep, all right?”
Samuel exhaled. “I barely knew either my father or my uncle. I’d only seen Jacob once before he came and offered to give up his chieftancy for me.” At Maud’s silence, he continued. “He did not speak of it, but it was family knowledge that he owed a great debt to my father’s memory. I never discovered what it was—the whole time I knew Jacob, sth , nothing. And I was too young to remember egya . You know, I do not even know how he died, whether it was cancer, heart attack—you know Gold Coast. But I was young, so growing up I heard nothing but the highest praise for him. But I now know there was something , and Jacob would not tell me. Of course, there were rumours, myths. Some said the betrayal was over something as simple as love—that they’d competed for a village girl who played them against each other. Others said that Jacob had always felt himself the lesser brother, that my grandfather favoured egya , so that Jacob did everything he could to thwart my father’s success. That, ultimately, he was responsible for my father’s death, because in egya’s times of sickness, Jacob taunted him to keep working. Some even went so far as to say my father wasn’t sick at all, that something else—but that is tomfoolery. In the end, they were very close. They had slept in the same bed as boys, and once egya died Jacob began to sleep in that bed again. He accepted all egya’s duties, reared me like his own son. And even if he forgot it, I never did. I never did.” His voice sounded vacant. “I know they both expected great things of me.”
Taking her silence as indifference, Samuel turned over in bed. He felt a cold hand between his shoulder blades, then the motion of Maud rolling over. It was a fleeting, impersonal touch, but he felt all the emotion it was meant to convey. Frowning, he looked out the window.
chapter EIGHT
I n a three-day bout of work in which sleep became a hopeless goal, Samuel stocked his shop with all the tools of his trade. Scanning new catalogues with a thick-tipped pen, he’d noted the names of even newer catalogues he wanted to send away for. Possessed of a confidence shadowed by a fear it would leave him, Samuel laid the groundwork for his business in astute, genius (he considered) manoeuvres. A lesser man might have sought the paperwork, bought the equipment locally and left himself guessing in the hands of God. Not Samuel. For nights now a single pure slogan had obsessed him: Go global . He didn’t know if he’d heard it somewhere, or if it was his own, but for a man of his background in this mechanized world it seemed the appropriate motto on which to build his business. And so he sent requests to Taiwan and Germany for equipment catalogues, and made an inner note to send them business cards once he’d had them printed. He drove so often to Edmonton that Maud complained he’d wear the car to scrap iron. He used his old government contacts to convince potential clients of his deftness as an oil analyst, and received what he thought was a promising response. He brought back his hordes by night, and soon the shop
As soon as he saw Maud he began to apologize. He lacked all passion, and digressed when the words seemed to have no effect on her. By the end even he was waiting for himself to finish.
“Very eloquent, Samuel,” said Maud, “and your timing is, as usual, endearing. But I was only going to ask how your hands were.”
Samuel paused, humiliated. “Fine,” he said.
She turned out the light.
In the darkness, they listened to the wailing weathervane. Samuel moistened his lips and was about to speak, when Maud said, “Just go to sleep, all right?”
Samuel exhaled. “I barely knew either my father or my uncle. I’d only seen Jacob once before he came and offered to give up his chieftancy for me.” At Maud’s silence, he continued. “He did not speak of it, but it was family knowledge that he owed a great debt to my father’s memory. I never discovered what it was—the whole time I knew Jacob, sth , nothing. And I was too young to remember egya . You know, I do not even know how he died, whether it was cancer, heart attack—you know Gold Coast. But I was young, so growing up I heard nothing but the highest praise for him. But I now know there was something , and Jacob would not tell me. Of course, there were rumours, myths. Some said the betrayal was over something as simple as love—that they’d competed for a village girl who played them against each other. Others said that Jacob had always felt himself the lesser brother, that my grandfather favoured egya , so that Jacob did everything he could to thwart my father’s success. That, ultimately, he was responsible for my father’s death, because in egya’s times of sickness, Jacob taunted him to keep working. Some even went so far as to say my father wasn’t sick at all, that something else—but that is tomfoolery. In the end, they were very close. They had slept in the same bed as boys, and once egya died Jacob began to sleep in that bed again. He accepted all egya’s duties, reared me like his own son. And even if he forgot it, I never did. I never did.” His voice sounded vacant. “I know they both expected great things of me.”
Taking her silence as indifference, Samuel turned over in bed. He felt a cold hand between his shoulder blades, then the motion of Maud rolling over. It was a fleeting, impersonal touch, but he felt all the emotion it was meant to convey. Frowning, he looked out the window.
chapter EIGHT
I n a three-day bout of work in which sleep became a hopeless goal, Samuel stocked his shop with all the tools of his trade. Scanning new catalogues with a thick-tipped pen, he’d noted the names of even newer catalogues he wanted to send away for. Possessed of a confidence shadowed by a fear it would leave him, Samuel laid the groundwork for his business in astute, genius (he considered) manoeuvres. A lesser man might have sought the paperwork, bought the equipment locally and left himself guessing in the hands of God. Not Samuel. For nights now a single pure slogan had obsessed him: Go global . He didn’t know if he’d heard it somewhere, or if it was his own, but for a man of his background in this mechanized world it seemed the appropriate motto on which to build his business. And so he sent requests to Taiwan and Germany for equipment catalogues, and made an inner note to send them business cards once he’d had them printed. He drove so often to Edmonton that Maud complained he’d wear the car to scrap iron. He used his old government contacts to convince potential clients of his deftness as an oil analyst, and received what he thought was a promising response. He brought back his hordes by night, and soon the shop
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