Land of Bones and Tears

Chapter Seven

Sitting opposite Grace in the café she’d taken me to after Grandfather and Colleen had taken off with the reservation kids, I felt like I’d traveled back more than twenty-five years, and was finally having the homecoming I’d dreamed of so many times. Her admiring gaze was everything I’d ever hoped it would be; the fact that she was a mature woman was not a problem for me, I’d always had a “thing” for older women. Luke would say it was an obsession, and if Linton were here, he’d no doubt be raising that eyebrow of his at Grace and thinking he knew why.

He might be right but who gave a damn? I sure as hell didn’t. It wasn’t like I had a mother complex; my mother was a kid when she had me and when she left me. My love of older women had nothing to do with Aimee. Then why was I thinking of her, my mind asked. I shook my head to get what sounded like Papa Gee out of it; though I wasn’t sure which was worse, losing an argument with myself or with my dead Cajun grandfather. Either way, it was no wonder Grace’s admiring expression was beginning to fade to concern.

“Steve, is something wrong?”

“No, not at all, why do you ask?”

She laughed lightly, reaching across the table to tap my hand lightly. Her perfume wafted over—White Linen--- same as she wore when I first knew her. Damn, I couldn’t believe it still affected me. I forced myself not to steal a glance down, knowing sure as I knew the best places to fish around here that her blouse would be falling open just enough to show a glimpse of lacy bra and creamy cleavage. I used to live for those glimpses when I was a boy.

But I was not a boy any longer, damn it. I smiled at her and moved my hand to the water glass, gulping it down. “It’s been a long couple of days of driving, flying…you name it. Forgive me if I’m a bit distracted. What did I miss?” She laughed again, causing me to grin. I never felt as though Grace were laughing at me; her laughter always invited me to join in, something that was much needed in my younger, angrier self. She enabled me to laugh at myself and my seriousness, which made it much easier for me to become friends with Luke, who found everything funny. Before her, I would have been much more likely to fight him, trying to prove myself his superior, sure that he was doing the same. At least, that’s how I’d always viewed it. When I once told Luke something of the sort, he laughed it off, insisting that we were destined to be friends, and that if Grace hadn’t knocked such nonsense out of me, he would have done it soon enough anyway.

I found Grace reaching for my hand again as she answered, “You poor man, you work so hard! I cannot wait to hear more about your career! A Colonel, Special Forces, a pilot, more decorations than I can list, it is just so amazing. It is wonderful that you were able to take time out to help Nathaniel get settled back in his old home. We are thrilled to have him here. And your young friend, of course, Miss O’Keefe. I was just asking if you have time and appetite for a full meal instead of just the coffee I first offered?”

I accepted. Grandfather and Colleen seemed to be fine. There was a lot of ground to cover. I smiled as I turned my hand over and grasped hers warmly.

“So, you and that lawyer husband of yours ever have any kids?”

********

I fixed up Tommy while Grandfather listened to the other kids, Malcolm, Ned, Noah, Sarah and Leah. Oh, and fed them tea and sandwiches. I loved Grandfather—he could have been a graduate of the Mama Rose School of Child Rearing. She’d firmly believed that there was no situation so bad that the liberal application of food and tea couldn’t make it better. It was a good thing that the other kids were opening up under Grandfather’s gentle attention, since the boy I was patching up was keeping mum about what had happened. My most taciturn cousin couldn’t have kept quieter under threat of torture by tickling.

“Tommy didn’t do nothing!” Ned, one of the identical twins insisted. “The cops were harassing us just for being there, but him most of all, just for telling the fat one to leave Sarah alone when he was touching her.”

“The man laid hands on you?” Grandfather asked the smaller of the two girls, knowing already which was which. Leah was the prettier girl, being tall and striking, but Sarah had a certain look to her that I could see attracting the wrong type of attention. She was very slim with that air of fragility that some men found irresistible. Where the others were dressed in jeans, hoodies and sneakers, she wore a long peasant skirt and knitted sweater. It wasn’t that she was dressed provocatively, far from it, but she was dressed in a more girlish way and she seemed timid. I could see a bully singling her out as someone he could take liberties with, and my temper flared, though I kept it in check. I was one of the grown-ups now.

Sarah looked down at her thin ballet flats—no battered sneakers for her, I noted, and was reminded of my cousin Briana, though any man who took liberties with her would likely get a kick to the balls despite her young age—and I added my voice to the mix, careful to keep it matter of fact. The others were all too ready to speak for her.

“Why don’t we give Sarah a chance to gather her thoughts and answer Grandfather herself? It is a good thing to think about the question before answering, at least, that’s what my uncle the lawyer always says.”  I flashed the patented O’Keefe smile at the kids—and Uncle Danny swears he has in fact patented it. It certainly has its uses, as the row of sheepishly smiling kids would attest. Sarah was showing a bit of dimple, and even the boy whose blood I was sopping up with a warm damp towel looked like he was beginning to thaw.

Without raising her eyes, Sarah whispered, “He grabbed my arm and was pulling me toward his car. Tommy stopped him.”

“Why was he doing that?”

“Because he’s a pervert,” Tommy spat the words, the first he’d said since agreeing to come into the house Grandfather had directed me to drive to and into which he’d ushered all of us. I’d thought we’d have to find another motel but we’d found the snug little house all ready for us. It wasn’t big or fancy but by the standards of the places around here, it was palatial. I could tell the kids thought so. Their eyes kept drifting to the new appliances and comfortable furniture that filled the small two bedroom place. I wondered who was responsible for getting it ready and hoped it wasn’t that woman who took Red off—I was pretty sure I hated her on sight.

I tilted Tommy’s chin up so I could look at it closer—no need for stitches, I decided, thankful that the bleeding on his jawline was stopping and I’d be able to get away with just a butterfly bandage. It almost looked like he’d been hit with brass knuckles, the way his chin was split open.

Noah must have read my mind as he volunteered, “Cop wears a big ring from his football days. It really hurts when he hits you.”

I glanced at Grandfather to see if he was as outraged as I was, which was silly since he was the original at keeping an impassive expression—I wish my Uncle John could see him sometime, he’d be so jealous. But I did see a flicker of his eyes, which just went to show how outrageous it was for this officer of the law to be striking a teen, as a regular habit apparently, for standing up for each other. My Uncle Frank was a police chief and his kids, my cousins, were almost all police too, and I’d always respected police. It wasn’t until I went away to college that I learned that it wasn’t the same everywhere. There were great police doing a fantastic job all over the country every day…and then there were those other kind of police. Seemed like they often congregated around people they thought couldn’t fight back. Pissed me off to no end.

“None of you provoked the officers in any way,” Grandfather said. He did not say it in a way that indicated that he doubted the kids, but just like he wanted to affirm that fact, as much for them as for us. Calming as Grandfather’s manner was, Tommy jumped up, agitated.

“No, they don’t provoke, they don’t step out of line, and they don’t make trouble! They’re the good little Indians their parents all taught them to be but it don’t matter.”

He said this while storming back and forth in the neat little kitchen we’d all crowded into. I was glad I’d finished patching him up or the blood would have been flying with the pace he was setting. Grandfather gave him a moment but then, with a lift of his eyebrow and pointed finger, indicated that the boy was to sit down. To my surprise, he did—much like Cheyenne after a romp that he knew he shouldn’t have indulged in. I wished Grandfather had been around for some of my brothers’ temper tantrums.

“You are not a ‘good’ Indian?” Grandfather said, again more of a statement than a question.

Tommy scoffed. “I am not what they would want to tell us is a good Indian. I don’t accept that being a good Indian means taking abuse and forgetting my heritage, letting my friends be bullied.” Tommy might have been the spokesperson but I could see that every one of the others believed in him and supported him.

“Neither do I,” Grandfather said firmly, bringing Tommy, and the others up short. I smiled broadly.

“I don’t believe it either. Oh, we forgot to introduce ourselves; this is Nathaniel Redraven, and I’m Colleen O’Keefe.”

Tommy, clearly the ringleader, was torn between wanting to stick with his whole “rebel without a cause” thing, and ask Grandfather questions. He was a smart enough kid to recognize the real thing when he saw it. His thirst for a “real” role model won out. He dropped to the ground at Grandfather’s feet and nodded his head respectfully.

“I’ve heard of you,” he said to Grandfather, surprising me, though it really shouldn’t have. This was a small place and a World War II hero would be a big deal. “We didn’t really believe that you existed, or if you did, that you’d ever come back to a place like this once you got out, sir. You are a Major, aren’t you? One of the few ever to rise to that level in their army back then?”

Nathaniel smiled at the boy, a warm smile. “We will have plenty of time for stories, Tommy. I promise. My grandson has many tales he will tell you also, and he’s a Colonel. I would like to know more about you and your friends now, and life on the reservation.”

Bit by bit, Grandfather drew the kids out. The story was not a pretty one, but familiar. Authority figures who felt as though they had no limits…and in reality, they had few in too many situations… abused the power they had over the very people they were sworn to protect.

I expected the challenge when it came my way, and was able to mask the sting that it caused. I was surprised by the source—Leah, rather than Tommy, who asked, tossing her own long dark hair over her shoulder, “So what’s your story? What makes a super-model like you want to come out to the middle of nowhere to live with the natives?”

I smiled. If that was the best she could do, it was nothing compared to my twin waking up cranky on a day when she had early classes—and waking up cranky was redundant when it came to my twin. I ignored the pang of missing her and focused on the memory of mornings spent in good-humored teasing and concentrated on easing the concern Leah expressed but the others no doubt felt about me. I didn’t have the immediate cred that Grandfather had, nor should I. He looked askance at the slight to me but I gave him the slightest of head shakes to indicate that I would handle it. This type of hostility was not unfamiliar to me from my training days when I worked on my degrees. The hostility toward overzealous social workers was often well-deserved, whether the locale was the inner city or the jungles of South America. I didn’t take it personally, and said as much in a matter of fact tone.

“I can’t say that I blame you for wondering why I’m here, but I have to tell you, if the real super-models in my family heard you call me one, they’d be falling off their designer shoes and laughing their skinny asses off. I’ve never modeled, too athletic looking. Played basketball until I hurt my leg, and I hope we will be able to get some teams together. But my main jobs here, as that Mrs. Parkins mentioned, will be as a teacher and as a social worker. And before you make a face at the social worker part, my job will be, among other things, making sure you all get treated the way you’re supposed to by people like the police.”

“How you going to do that?” Malcolm spoke up, daring to jump in on the other, more forceful speakers.

“By being a really loud, pushy person,” I told him, grinning.

********

 
I went to bed around eight, exhausted from the long trip. I had my own little place somewhere but Grandfather told me there would be plenty of time to find it the next day after we got a good night’s rest. We made ourselves sandwiches and soup from the fully stocked refrigerator. I was a little antsy sleeping in a new place and was just as glad not to be all by myself. I knew that one or both of the dogs would be joining me in the night once Grandfather turned in. For now, he was sitting up with the dogs while he waited for Red who still hadn’t come back from his impromptu date.

I told myself that I wasn’t at all peeved that Red had missed our first day here. When Vasha joined me in the small bathroom—and wasn’t that a blessing? Each of the bedrooms had its own bath and Grandfather insisted that he and Red could share the one bedroom while I took the other—but as I discussed with Vasha while I enjoyed a nice hot bath in a wonderfully long tub that someone must have specially ordered for the home’s longer than average occupant, it wasn’t like Red owed me anything.

“But wouldn’t you think he’d want to make sure that Grandfather had everything he needed—he’s spry as anything but he is still a fairly older gentleman when all is said and done and maybe he would be feeling a little nostalgic coming home to the reservation after all these years.”

Vasha lifted her shaggy head and gave me a look. I laughed. “Okay, so maybe that is stretching it a bit. Probably nothing short of World War III would shake him, but the whole point of Red coming all the way from wherever it is he hides out with my secretive Uncle and the even more secretive Major Silver, was to bring his grandfather here, and yours truly of course as a side favor. So where is he? Off gallivanting, as Mama Rose would say, with that Grace woman. And acting like a teenager with his first crush, which was not an attractive look on him at all, was it Vash?”

Vasha looked to be much more in agreement with me on that one. If Keir could see me holding conversations with a wolfhound like this he’d be checking me into the nearest mental hospital, I giggled. But Vasha had the most comprehending expressions.

It wasn’t until sometime later, after I’d donned my sweats and sleep tee and crawled into the very comfortable bed, that I heard the sound of voices in the living room. Vasha pushed the door open wider as she went to greet Red. I was left to debate getting up to close it, so I wouldn’t be able to eavesdrop as easily, which would make it harder for Vasha to return and risk my having a nightmare later, or leave it as it was and pretend to be asleep and ignore the men as best I could.

I opted for the latter, telling myself nosiness about how Red had spent his evening had nothing to do with my choice.

Yeah, right.

********

If I’d felt seventeen years old earlier, when I’d first seen Grace again, the feeling returned ten-fold when I let myself into the house I’d purchased for Grandfather after Grace dropped me off following our dinner together—a very leisurely dinner. I was chagrined, no other word for it, to discover that it was almost ten o’clock. Damn, where had the day gone? Or the evening.

The house was on the same site as the one I’d spent a good part of my childhood in, but when Grandfather had first talked about returning one day, we’d had it torn down and replaced it with a better one, using local workers and tradesmen to do the work pursuant to plans Luke drew up to Grandfather’s specifications. Neither of us had been sentimental about what had been a pretty poor house but we both liked the location. Glancing around as I entered, I liked what I saw. It was snug, homey and efficient—not a house to go to die, I couldn’t help thinking, but one to enjoy living in. Once again, I tried to find hope.

There sure wasn’t any in the flinty look being directed my way—and didn’t that too take me back a few decades. I almost smiled from the pure nostalgia.

“Nice to see you remembered the way,” was my grandfather’s stern greeting.

“Well, if I hadn’t, I’m sure Grace would have known the way,” I said lightly. “I get the feeling not much happens around here that she doesn’t know about so she probably noticed this house being built.”

He grunted. Not in the mood to be mollified easily. I tried a different tack. “I’m sorry I abandoned you. I figured you and Colleen would be fine on your own and might want to get a feel for the place without me taking over.”

He raised an eyebrow at that blatant excuse. Didn’t blame him; the idea just came to me on the ride over here, about ten minutes ago. “Want to try that again?” he asked.

I walked to the kitchen and peered in the frig. Good, some beers. I wondered if it was Grace or Linton who stocked it—probably Linton, I decided. Grace wouldn’t have known to put in my favorite brand of beer. That was pure Luke and Linton. Flowers on the table in the living room, now that was likely Grace. Nice gesture but a bit wasted on me. Opening the beer, I moved back to the living room and flopped down on the sofa opposite my grandfather, who was sitting upright in a chair. Always with excellent posture, my grandfather. Even when relaxing. I repressed a grin and tried to look contrite. I was so glad to be with him. I told him so.

“Funny way you have of showing it,” he told me, but I could tell he was pleased. “Staying away all these hours, letting Colleen carry in all my stuff.”

Damn. I sat up. “No! I assumed she would leave it until I got here.”

He looked satisfied by my reaction. “I told her to but she insisted. When you didn’t show up by dinner time she said she would just bring in a few things. Next thing I knew, she had it all in, wouldn’t let me get a thing. Though she did get some help from the children we gave a ride to, though she would not let them do much. She said she did not want them to feel like they had to work for us, just let them do enough that they would accept eating with us. Smart girl, Colleen. Hard worker too.”

It was my turn to grunt. I was feeling a bit guilty for missing Grandfather’s first meal back on the reservation, but now to have left all the unloading to Colleen because I was with Grace—I was not pleased with myself. Which did not leave me open to any more reprimands from Grandfather, of course, which he was smart enough to know. Changing the subject—or maybe not—he said, “There’s some trouble here, Raven. Those police, they rough up the young people on a regular basis. And they take liberties. I think Colleen will have her work cut out for her.”

I had been lost in my thoughts and it took a minute for his words to sink in. When they did, I looked up sharply. “Are you sure? It isn’t just kids exaggerating?”

He gave me a stern look. “Were you just a boy exaggerating at that age?”

I was silenced.

Once again, he changed the subject, or again, maybe not. “How did you find your old friend, Miss Grace? Is she as you remembered her?”

I thought for a moment. Was Grace as I remembered? She had been idolized by me when I was no older than that boy who’d been fighting with the police this afternoon. The woman I’d had dinner with…and yes…gone out for drinks afterward…she was not quite the woman I remembered. Grace Parkins was a very attractive, vivacious, entertaining woman, who knew how to keep a man’s attention. I got the very strong sense today that she would like a good bit more of my attention, and I am never wrong about that type of signal. As Luke would say, it’s a gift and I’ve got it.

One of the reasons I hadn’t cut the evening short was that I kept looking for signs of the idealistic young girl I’d once known, the “Miss Grace” who’d so enthralled me years ago, with her spirit and courage. Just as the boy I once was lived inside the tough man I became, I had to believe that girl still resided inside the brittle, hardened political wife that was Grace Parkins. Question was, did I want to unearth her?

Grandfather was waiting for an answer, for he never asked idle questions. Turning the beer bottle in my hand, watching the light through it, I answered slowly. “I would say it’s going to take time to answer that question. I hope you plan on my being here with you for awhile—you weren’t planning on this journey taking place any time too soon, were you? I’d kind of like to stay around, catch up on old times, old friends. Maybe help fix things up around here, help you with that new pup.”

I was pleased to see Grandfather smile at me, his irritation at my defection today over. “I would like that too, Raven. My journey will be delayed, at least for a little while. I believe I have other tasks to complete first. My path is taking me on some unexpected detours, and I think your path is taking some detours also. We will travel together, my son. But now, this old man is tired. Will you take the dogs out so that I may go to bed? Remember to leave Vasha with Colleen when you bring them back so that the strange house does not trigger her bad dreams.”

Relieved more than I would have believed possible, I was glad to agree to taking the dogs, as well as to ceding Vasha to Colleen. Calling quietly for both dogs, not wanting to wake up Colleen, I kissed Grandfather goodnight, then took Vasha and Cheyenne out for their nightly walk. Seeing how Vasha ran and played with the puppy, Cheyenne, it was easy to believe that she had been given a new lease on life too.

I would contact Luke in the morning and extend my leave of absence.
 

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