“I’m familiar with that,” Henry said.
“I bet you are,” Rayanne said. “You close to your grandparents?”
“Gram on my mom’s side. She lives on the rez,” Henry said. “Grandpa died while I was at college. Dad-person is out of the picture. His family lives in Montana. I have a little contact with them but it’s awkward. I got their name but that’s about it. They aren’t Indian. You?”
“Grandpa is from my mom’s side. He’s my favorite person. That’s why I do most of what I do. My mom wasn’t the best. She, uh, tried but you know...alcohol. That whole deal. Same as you, sperm donor out of the picture so my grandparents got stuck raising me. We moved up here when I started high school. They thought I would have more opportunity if we lived in the city. Then Grandma died, and she’s buried in the cemetery. Grandpa doesn’t want to leave her.”
“That’s so sad,” Henry said.
“Yeah. He’s very loyal.”
Rayanne parked the car in front of a small blue house. She took a box from the padded container. “Get one of those drinks. Have you met Margie?”
“I’ve heard about Margie,” Henry said.
“She’s amazing but also a piece of work. Be ready.”
Rayanne let them both in. “Are you decent?”
“No more than usual,” Margie said from her chair. She hadn’t turned on any lights. The house was dark and smelled like burned coffee.
“What are you doing in the dark?” Rayanne said, turning on a lamp.
“Thinking,” she said. When she spotted Henry she said, “You recruited a helper. He’s tall.”
“Nice to finally meet you, Margie.” Henry took her hand, surprised to find he was nervous. “I’m Arnie’s nephew, Henry.”
“I heard about you. Getting into the business?”
“Not by choice. This one is trying to teach me the ropes.”
“You know how it is,” Rayanne said. “The board wanted us to work together.”
“After hours?” Margie said doubtfully. She gestured for the container. “What’s the menu?”
Henry handed it over. “Meatloaf, vegetables, and cornbread.”
“Rayanne makes the best cornbread.” She unwrapped the plastic and broke off a piece.
“Do you want to eat now, or should I put it away for later?” Rayanne said.
“I’ll hang on to it. I’ll eat after you two leave.”
Margie’s house was too warm. He wanted to open a window. She had a series of small framed drawings and paintings on the walls and propped up around the room.
“Are you an artist?” Henry asked, studying one of the drawings more closely.
“When I was younger. For fun.” She held up her little brown hands with twisted fingers. “Not any longer.”
“These are beautiful,” Henry said.
“Pick one out, you can have it,” Margie said.
“That’s okay. I don’t want to take your lovely art to the sorry excuse I have for an apartment.”
“Nonsense,” Margie said. “I can’t enjoy them all. Pick one.”
Now that he was paying attention, he saw a number of gaps on the wall where a picture had been taken down.
Rayanne came to his side. “If Margie wants you to have one, there is no use trying to stop her. Pick something you like. It will make her happy.”
Henry was familiar with curved lines of native art in the Pacific Northwest and Alaska. He touched the frame of an illustration of a bird with a huge beak and outstretched wings.
“Raven,” Margie said. “Good choice.”
“Thank you,” Henry said. “I’m honored. It will be the one pretty thing in my hovel.”
“If you hang out with this girl you can have two pretty things.”
Henry blushed on the inside.
“Good night, Margie,” Rayanne said in a cheerful, let’s-wrap-this-up voice. “You were our first tonight. We got more hungry folks to feed.” Rayanne gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be back in a few days. Call me if you need anything.”
“Goodnight, kids,” Margie said. “You look cute together.”
Henry nodded in agreement but Rayanne was already out the front door.
“I told you,” she said, when they got back to the car. “We need to get Linda and Arnie in the same room with her so she can embarrass them to death.”
“Linda and Arnie? I’m not sure—”
“Relax. Margie wants to turn everyone into a couple. She even tried to match Tommy and Ester. Don’t get me wrong, I love those two like siblings. And they love each other like siblings. Together, they aren’t suited for romance.”
They dropped food off at the rest of Rayanne’s elders. All of them lived alone. All the places had reminders of home. There were photographs of landscapes, and strings of beads or shells on the wall. Everyone was anxious to talk. Henry understood why she did this.
“Last one,” Rayanne said. “You get to meet Gus the grandpa.”
“Should I be nervous?”
“What for?” Rayanne said. “You’re bringing him meatloaf.”
Grandpa had a big, round face with eyebrows high on his head, like he was always in the process of hearing surprising news. This was the expression he wore when Rayanne came in with Henry. She’d never brought anyone with her before and wasn’t sure how that was going to go for him.
Grandpa’s apartment was a studio in an older building. The kitchen had coral-colored tiles that Rayanne loved but Grandpa called silly. He insisted he didn’t mind having his bed in the same room as the kitchen, but Rayanne had put up a set of curtains to screen that part of the room from the rest. As they walked in, the curtains were open. She crossed the room to pull them shut.
“You don’t have to do that,” Grandpa said. “He don’t mind seeing an old man’s bed.”
“How do you know what he minds?” Rayanne gave him a big hug. “That’s Henry.”
Grandpa kept his place tidy, but there was a whiff of stinky trash even with the windows wide open. She made a mental note to take it out when they left. He had trouble carrying it down the stairs.
“Nice to meet you, sir,” Henry said, offering his hand.
“Hello, Henry.” Grandpa tottered toward him to shake. He was a big man and he didn’t take care of himself. It had gotten worse since Grandma died. He moved stiffly, sometimes grimacing but never complaining. He hesitated to call her even when she insisted he was no trouble.
“You can call me Gus. What have you got for us, Rayanne?”
“Meatloaf. I’m going to give this a quick blast of heat,” she said, going into the kitchen. She opened a drawer and pulled out placemats and silverware, and gestured that Henry should set the table.
“How was your day, Grandpa?”
“I’m still here, aren’t I?” he said. “Did some puzzles. Watched a ball game. Walked to the park. Let me make you kids a drink.”
“I can get it,” Rayanne said. She looked at Henry. “Soda or water?”
“Whatever you’re having is fine.” Henry pointed at the table. It was barely big enough to fit two placemats.
“Squeeze them in.”
He overlapped them as best he could.
“Come over here, Henry. I want to show you something.” Grandpa held out a pretty, light-brown basket decorated with a pattern of triangles and lines. “You ever seen anything like it?”
“No,” Henry said, inverting it when he picked it up, so that he held it like a bowl. “This is so different from the baskets out our way.”
Grandpa indicated he should flip it back over. “It’s a work hat. This one is pine root and bear grass and what’s the other one?”
“Maidenhair fern,” Rayanne said.
“It’s beautiful,” Henry said.
“Ceremonial hats is fancier,” Grandpa said. “This is for doing chores.”
“Fancier than this? The weaving is so fine, it’s hard to believe it’s handmade.”
“Belonged to my wife,” Grandpa said. “It
’s going to be Rayanne’s but I’m not ready to give it up yet.”
“I wore it for college graduation,” Rayanne said.
“She looked real pretty too. My daughter sold it once but we got it back.”
Rayanne was old enough to remember that terrible incident. Grandma was alive then. They’d discovered the loss almost immediately, but there had been days of frantic phone calls before they could find out what happened, and who had ended up with the heirloom. The buyer was in the Bay Area and agreed to let it go back, for a price. They’d had to sell the lawnmower and Grandpa’s hunting rifle to get enough cash for gas and the money to buy it back. After that, Mom wasn’t welcome in their home any longer. It broke everyone’s heart but they couldn’t trust her. Back then they’d discovered other things missing, like Grandpa’s nice watch, and pearl drop earrings from Grandma’s wedding day. But the work hat had been made by Grandma’s grandmother. They couldn’t bear to lose it.
“Dinner is ready.” Rayanne transferred everything to plates and put them on the table. She poured everyone soda from a big plastic bottle. The drink no longer fizzed but Grandpa had no trouble drinking it so she didn’t mention it. Rayanne dragged a footstool over since there were only two chairs. They crammed around the little table.
“Ta’ávahiv. Time to eat,” Grandpa said.
“Ta’ávahiv,” Rayanne said.
Henry gamely repeated after them.
“That’s pretty good,” Grandpa said. “She tell you about where we’re from?”
“A little bit,” Henry said. He’d taken a bite of his meatloaf and closed his eyes for a moment. “This is great.”
“She’s a good cook,” Grandpa said.
“We’re not trying to sell me,” Rayanne said.
“Nothing wrong with pointing out something that’s true. Cornbread is good too. That’s my favorite,” Grandpa said.
“That’s why I brought you two pieces,” Rayanne said.
Grandpa was so busy talking, he hardly touched his food. “We come from a beautiful place. You hunt?”
“Not very much,” Henry said. “I went with my uncles when I was younger, but then I went away for college and got out of it. I like being out in the woods, though.”
“Good,” Grandpa said. “I was out hunting with my brother and we seen a beautiful buck. We have a camp up in the mountains.”
“When was this?” Henry asked.
“Been some time,” Grandpa said with a laugh. “Haven’t been hunting in a long time. Harder to hike and I’m no good to carry out. What do you do, Henry?”
“Nothing that interesting,” Henry said.
“Tell him about your band,” Rayanne suggested.
Henry gave her a look, you’re kidding me.
“What kind of a band?” Grandpa asked. Rayanne loved how curious he was. She could tell him she was learning to juggle rattlesnakes, and he would want to know the rattlesnakes’ names and where they came from.
“Sadly, I’m not musical,” Henry said. “My friends have a rock band with a hip-hop influence. I help them out.”
“Which kind of music is hip-hop?” Grandpa asked.
“You know, rapping, sampling. Heavy beats. These guys are all native so they make it their own thing. I’m helping promote them. We’re trying to find some places where they can play. It’s not easy.”
“Grandpa has a band, too,” Rayanne said.
“I play drums,” Grandpa said.
“What’s your band like?” Henry asked.
“We got an old man intertribal drum group,” he explained. “Anyone can join. It’s not part of my tradition but they let me in.”
“Oh, a drum circle,” Henry said. “Where do you play?”
“One of the guys has a house and we meet there. Eat some pizza. Talk about the old days. It’s hard for me because I don’t drive anymore. I don’t see so good at night.”
“I’m his driver,” Rayanne said.
“I don’t like to bug her all the time,” Grandpa said. “She might like to get out and do other things.”
“You never bug me,” Rayanne said, leaning over to give him a kiss on the cheek.
“I’m always telling her she should go back home. She misses it,” Grandpa said.
“I have a great job, and I’m doing things for Indian people,” Rayanne said. “That’s what I want to do.”
“Are you going to do your arts and crafts show you told me about?”
Rayanne gestured at Henry. “Not me, him. He was hired to do it. I do what he tells me to do.” Henry smiled but she could tell he was uncomfortable.
“I’m helpless without her knowledge. I’m doing the best I can but I’m new at this,” Henry said.
“She’s a smart one,” Grandpa said.
“I knew that the minute I met her,” Henry said.
Rayanne wasn’t going to be charmed so easily. “The foundation has been laid. You’ll do fine.”
“She’s stubborn, too,” Henry said.
“You got that right, son,” Grandpa said.
17
Henry snuck glances at her the entire ride back to her place. She didn’t say much. Instead, she focused on the road, almost like she was avoiding him. They drove past the city’s indoor arena.
“You a sports fan?” he asked.
Her head snapped up as if startled by his voice. “Not really. Sometimes basketball or football. I’m not a diehard fan, but I enjoy watching games now and then. You a sports nut?”
“Maybe a little more than you,” he said with a smile. “For sure, basketball. Sometimes football or hockey. Occasionally baseball.”
Her attention went back to the road so he let the silence stretch between them.
When they arrived back at her place, Rayanne went to the trunk to get out the padded boxes they’d used to transport the food. Henry helped her carry them and followed her inside to set the stuff in the kitchen.
A warm tension flared between them, but if she felt it, she wasn’t showing it. His desire grew from a spark to a flame. He didn’t want the night to end. “Can we hang out for a while?”
Rayanne wouldn’t meet his eyes. It took so long for her to answer, he expected an angry reply.
“It depends on what you’re asking. You can stay for a few minutes. But no—” She motioned with her hands in front of her like she was rolling a big ball of dough.
“No pizza making?”
“No hanky-panky. Sit in your own chair. No bumping or brushing against me. Everyone keeps both feet on the floor at all times.”
Henry pointed at his feet. “How about when I walk?”
“You know what I mean. You want a glass of wine?”
“I’m not a big wine drinker,” Henry said. “Plus I heard you say a few minutes. You’re sending mixed signals.” The couch looked invitingly cozy, but he chose to sit in one of the dining room chairs.
Rayanne poured herself a glass and sat down across from him. “I’m not sending any signals. We’re colleagues. We’re being collegial. How are you feeling about everything?”
Henry pointed at her wine. She got back up and poured him half a glass.
“Are you asking how I feel about you giving me a bunch of no-touchy instructions before inviting me in for a few minutes? Or do you want to know how I feel about your one-woman meal delivery service?” The wine wasn’t too bad.
Rayanne gave a little laugh. “I don’t care about the first one. What about the second one?”
“I understand why you do it. It’s not just bringing them food. It’s making a connection. I would have hung out with any one of them.”
Rayanne took a sip of her wine and made a thoughtful face. “You get it. I should have expected that. Perhaps I’ve misjudged. I was expecting you to be more of an apple.”
“Red on the outside, white on the inside?” That was like a stab in the heart even though it was half true.
“No, green on the outside. Tart and crunchy on the inside,” she said. Was she flirting with hi
m or not?
“Your grandpa said he encourages you to go home. Do you miss it?”
“Every day,” Rayanne said. “Growing up, when we lived down there, life wasn’t perfect but you wake up every day surrounded by mountains and trees. The city sometimes feels alien. I’ll be waiting in traffic so I can move a few miles. Back on the river, heavy traffic is three cars on the road. That place is in my blood. Do you have a place like that? Where you close your eyes and you can smell the air?”
“I do. Huckleberry picking. When I was younger I went every year. I’m not good at describing things, but it’s the same kind of memory. The color of the mountains and everyone’s voices. And yeah, it smelled like woods. Fresh. My gram had a special little red bucket that only I was allowed to use. I bet she still has it.”
Rayanne’s hands were on the table and he wanted to hold one. Except he’d agreed to her instructions. “I’ll take you sometime,” he told her, as if they were the kind of people who planned things like that.
She made a noncommittal sound. “I’m staying here as long as Grandpa is around. I have so much to learn from Linda. You guys might have your doubts but she is great at her job.”
“I don’t know enough to have doubts about anyone except myself,” Henry said. “I could use your continued help on this festival thing.”
“Thing?” Rayanne snorted out the word.
“Prestigious event,” Henry corrected.
“I help everyone.” Rayanne frowned at him. “That’s my destiny apparently. To help everyone else with their stuff but never be in charge of my own stuff.”
“You haven’t been there that long,” Henry said.
“Neither have you!”
“Okay. That didn’t come out right. My impression is that everyone needs this event to be a success.”
“We do.” Rayanne finished her wine and got up to put the glass in the sink. She remained standing. “Do you even want to do work like this? It’s not all rock-star like your band.”
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