Heartbeat Braves

by Pamela Sanderson

  “I don’t know.” Henry didn’t want to explain his shortcomings to her. “I don’t think I’m cut out for a day job. It makes me a little, I don’t know, anxious? That’s not the right word. Don’t get me wrong. I admire the hell out of Arnie, and when I was in college, I thought about what he does. He’s so into it. But he’s a good leader. He likes meetings. He likes talking in front of people. He grew up out there and understands things like timber and treaty rights. I don’t know enough and I don’t see myself doing that day after day, week after week. I’m afraid of waking up and finding a bunch of time has passed and all I did was endure it.”

  “I have news for you, buddy,” Rayanne said. “No one thinks they’re cut out for a day job. No one likes meetings. No one wakes up one day and says, I only want two or three weeks off until I’m too old to enjoy having time off. No one starts out knowing how to do this. But there’s work to be done, and we’re the ones to do it. There are lots of nonnative people who will do work like this. But they don’t understand it in the same way. We need people like you.”

  “I hear what you’re saying,” Henry said, “but—”

  “This is how things get done. Think of the most pie-in-the-sky dream jobs. Rock star. Actress. Professional athlete. They have to put in the time. Learn the skills. Chase down the work. Prepare. Practice. Promote. You decide to do it and then you do.”

  “It sounds like you’ve surrendered to adulthood,” he said. He sounded whiney even to his own ears.

  “I sure have.” She came over and pointed at his glass. He tipped the last sip into his mouth and handed it to her. She nodded at the door. “And I need my sleep. See you tomorrow.”

  This was not the good night he had hoped for.

  18

  Rayanne arrived at the center hoping to find that the flood problem was history, and they could get back to work. In one corner, there was a machine on a dolly humming like a leaf blower. Another one sat in the hallway outside Linda’s office. They had to yell to hear each other over the din.

  “Dehumidifier,” Linda said. “If I understood the cleanup company correctly, it will be here for days. And by the look on your face I know what you’re thinking and I thought the same thing, but the crew said we will avoid mold and who doesn’t want that?”

  “How about retaining our sanity? What are our goals with respect to that?” Rayanne said.

  “That monkey left the cage days ago.” Linda pointed to the piles of boxes. “We’re going to have to go through all the stuff that got wet and inventory what can be saved. The rest gets tossed.”

  “Less stuff to move,” Rayanne said.

  Linda smiled. “You and I think alike. Why don’t you get Tommy to help you with the boxes out front?”

  “Tommy is taking a couple of elders to doctor appointments.”

  “Do it when he returns. Ester and I will work on the ones in back.”

  “Will do. Did you find out what happened with the Chief? What are we going to do about the festival if we can’t move? I mean, what is Henry going to do about it?”

  Linda shook her head and gestured for Rayanne to follow. It was quieter in the break room. Linda poured herself a cup of coffee.

  “As far as I’m concerned, everything is on schedule, full steam ahead. You guys work together to make the event happen and make it good. I’ll get the Chief sorted out.”

  “Arnie said Henry was in charge,” Rayanne said.

  “Get over it and do what needs to be done. This is what we’re dealing with, and it is critical that the event succeed. Help him,” Linda said.

  “I am,” Rayanne said.

  Ester came in and sagged theatrically against the counter. “I can’t live with that sound. It will turn me inside out. I checked and we didn’t lose any equipment, that I can tell. Everyone is plugged back in and, at least in terms of our electronics, we’re working.”

  “Can you get Henry a computer?” Rayanne asked.

  “Done,” Ester said. “I found a working model from the Hoover administration. I set it up on your desk.”

  “My desk? There’s no other place to put him? What about the meeting room?”

  “Not possible,” Ester said. “That room is already double booked. Are you worried his cute face will be too distracting?”

  “No one is too distracted by his face,” Rayanne said, frowning at her.

  Ester laughed. “If you say so.”

  When Rayanne got back to her desk, Henry had found a chair and worked at his computer directly across from her seat.

  “This is handy,” he said.

  “Isn’t it.”

  Ester had stacked up all of Rayanne’s neatly arranged piles of projects to make room for Henry. She dug around to find her current tasks.

  “You don’t mind sharing?” Henry said.

  “I don’t have a choice,” Rayanne said, “what with this end-of-days operation we have going.”

  “Okay, what do we do first?” Henry held up her binder of festival tasks.

  “I know I agreed to help you, however”—she indicated the mess that Ester had made of her work—“I have to catch up with my stuff first. You can figure some of that out on your own. We can work together this afternoon.”

  Henry nodded and flipped through the binder. He moved his attention to the computer screen and tapped on the keyboard a few times.

  Rayanne tried to keep her attention on what she was doing. She wanted to finalize her notes from the retreat and translate them into a document they could use for planning. Instead, her senses were filled with Henry. Even with her eyes averted, the sound of his breath and the movement of his body so close to hers pulled her mind away from her work. He wore plain old business casual and still managed to look sexy and dangerous. Well, he was not going to win this one.

  She fixed her attention on her computer screen and focused on her revisions. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him get up. He returned a few minutes later with Ester.

  “Why didn’t Rayanne help you?” Ester said, a notch louder than needed.

  “She’s busy.” Henry conveyed the air of a neglected small animal when he said it. Rayanne continued to ignore him.

  “She could show you how to navigate the directories,” Ester said. “Here. Festival stuff. Did you hide anything from him?”

  Rayanne quit the document she was working on and went around to stand beside Henry. He smelled minty fresh and the view of his neck inside his collar was inviting. Damn him and this number he was doing.

  “Fine. I will work with Henry this morning, but when Tommy gets back we have a project to work on,” Rayanne said.

  “Tommy isn’t going to be back any time soon. Have you ever taken elders to the doctor? It’s work for saints. I’ll leave you two.” Ester patted Henry’s shoulder. “She’ll help you. Be patient.”

  “I sent you my bookmarks this morning,” Rayanne said. “There are a lot of contacts. There are permits to follow up on. Artists to track down and invite. Make a program. Make a press release. Make an update for the website. Get listings in events calendars—”

  “Whoa,” Henry said. “Can we slow down? I have read through the binder, and gone over the calendar. I need help prioritizing.”

  “Fine,” Rayanne said. She brought her chair over so she could sit next to him. “Show me how far you’ve gotten.”

  “From reading through this,” he indicated the notebook, “you envisioned this as art and food in support of cultural events on a stage.”

  Rayanne was impressed. Linda once told her that she underestimated people and that it was a poor way of forming good working relationships. Maybe there was some merit to that.

  “It’s all in there,” she said. “There’s a list of artists I invited. Not everyone replied so you need to follow up on that. I talked to some food vendors. As you pointed out, it would be tough to do a traditional salmon feed so maybe get the word out for food booths. We need some performers for the stage. I talked to a poet who was interested. Maybe
a cultural speaker to talk about local history? I didn’t get too far on that.”

  “Musicians? What about a native rock band with hip-hop influences?” She was about to laugh until she saw his face. He was serious. “No one wants to come for your friends’ band.”

  “Believe me, someone does,” Henry said. “Give me a good reason. Why not something more contemporary?”

  “This isn’t a show for your friends’ band,” Rayanne said, irritated now. “There’s a sheet with a budget in there too. You’re going to need some sponsors and donations. I need to finish my report and then work on the flood damage. You have enough to keep busy.”

  Henry didn’t enjoy the work but he kept at it to prove to Rayanne that he could. He familiarized himself with all her lists and notes. She was a marvel of practical ability. Her notes had the answers to questions he didn’t even know he had.

  She sat at her desk, absorbed in whatever was on the screen. She shot down the Beat Braves idea in a second. Well, she wasn’t the final word on that.

  He texted the idea to Jack and confirmed their plans for apartment hunting.

  injun rawkstarz yesssssss! Jack replied.

  According to Rayanne’s notes she was hoping at least five hundred people would come through. If even half that watched the Beat Braves that would be a huge debut. His phone buzzed again, but this time the text was from Arnie.

  NDN youth dancers Armstrong MS Check for festival?

  No thanks, he texted back. Rayanne’s notes didn’t say anything about youth dancers and if she didn’t like his suggestions, she wouldn’t like Arnie’s either.

  Ask R, Arnie texted.

  Rayanne was at her computer but she stared into the far distance.

  “Quick question?”

  “Another friend need a boost?”

  “Kinda. Arnie said there’s something going on at Armstrong M.S. Do you know where that is?”

  “Armstrong Middle School? Yeah, we did a youth program with them once. They’re interested in teaching accurate local Indian history. We’d love to develop a curriculum with them but—” She gestured to the center in its disarray. “What’s going on there?”

  “Nothing big. A native youth dance group Arnie knows. He said I could check them out.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “No thanks,” Henry said.

  “Are you nuts? That’s exactly the kind of performance group we want. When is it?”

  “After lunch. Do you want to go over there with me?” Henry understood his instincts for this were non-existent. He wanted her to make sure it all went right.

  “You think we can drive up to a middle school and watch a youth dance demonstration?”

  “No?”

  “Not these days. Does Arnie have a contact or anything?”

  “I can ask.”

  She made an exasperated sound. “Don’t bother. I have cultivated relationships with local educators. Let me get permission for us to visit for the dance.”

  Henry sat back, overwhelmed by the layers of knowledge a person needed to do things. Could people learn to be competent or were they born that way?

  Rayanne was on the phone a few minutes before calling over to him, “We can pick up a couple of visitors’ passes and go to the gym at one o’clock.”

  “Do you want to go get lunch before we go over there?”

  “Sure, why not? I’ll tell Linda what we’re up to.”

  She met him at the van. “You firm on not letting me drive this thing?” She gave him a sly smile.

  “I don’t have a problem with you driving it. I have a problem with you driving off in it without me.” Henry pulled out of the parking lot. “I was going to take you to a food truck that makes these amazing barbecue sandwiches. Does that sound okay?”

  “You’re taking me? We’re not on a date. We’re eating lunch on the way to a work activity. Got it?”

  “Loud and clear,” Henry said.

  The sandwich truck was parked in a lot with three other trucks.

  “All these trucks have good food,” he said. “There are benches in the shade if you want to sit down. I will be sitting down. You’re free to make your own plans.”

  Rayanne sighed and got out of the van. He couldn’t keep his eyes from her as she moved between the trucks, stopping to check each menu. Every so often she would run her fingers through her hair and hold it back from her face before releasing it again.

  She came to join him in line. “I’ll trust you on this one.”

  Once they had their food, they found a place to sit. She took a bite and worked her mouth for a few moments, and then gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

  “It’s the perfect balance of chewy, spicy, tangy, creamy,” he said.

  She finished her bite and nodded. “Perfect balance? Are you a foodie?”

  “Only in the sense that I like food.”

  “Me, too,” she said. “Good suggestion. I begrudgingly give you a point for this.”

  “A point? A whole point? Did I get any points for the retreat?”

  “Did I not make that official?”

  “Great. Two points. What’s the max? When can I redeem them?”

  “Points are infinite,” Rayanne said. “I’ll let you know the rest, as needed. What’s going on with apartment hunting?”

  Henry laughed and shook his head. “What apartment hunting? I’m too busy. I want to ignore it until it goes away.”

  “That’s an interesting strategy. I’m no expert on the details of your life, but I don’t think that will work out well for you.”

  “My roommate, Jack, and I have got some places to see tonight. We’re using that app you showed me so thanks for that. You get a point too.”

  “Oh, goody,” she said, returning her attention to her sandwich.

  “I’m dreading it. I hate dealing with things like that. First you have to figure out what you can afford, which is nothing. Then wait for someone to return your email. Deal with all the forms. Credit check. I’m going to live in the van.”

  “You could leave it in the parking lot and you wouldn’t have to commute,” Rayanne said.

  “Wouldn’t that be handy?” Henry said.

  Henry paid attention to the way Rayanne talked to the school officials. The principal gave them both visitor badges and explained that the assembly was a part of a cultural studies program. They sat in the gym bleachers with the students.

  The dancers were middle-school age too. They bounced around the gym floor in their bright-colored regalia, waiting for their performance to begin.

  “I always like the jingle dancing the best,” Henry said. “I even like saying it. Did you ever dance?”

  Rayanne shook her head. “This kind of dancing isn’t part of our tradition.”

  The music rang out over the sound system, a steady drumbeat with singers rising above it. The kids’ faces were intent, their bodies moving with the sound. The combination of the music and the jangle from the dancers was familiar and comforting, and brought a sense of peace that he couldn’t articulate.

  “It’s a shame they have to use recorded music,” Henry whispered to Rayanne. “We should have a live music group if they dance for us.”

  Rayanne had a blissful expression on her face. “Look how happy they are. It makes you want to jump up and join them.”

  “Why don’t we do something like that? Everyone would be invited to dance with the kids at the end. I mean, if the kids want to.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Rayanne said.

  After the dance, they introduced themselves to the group’s teacher and told her about the arts festival.

  “You’re Arnie’s family,” the woman said, nodding at Henry. “I can see it. Bet he wishes he had your height, eh?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think I’ll ask him, though,” Henry said.

  The woman laughed. “Maybe not. We love your uncle. He’s doing a lot of good work. Nice to see you follow in his footsteps.”

  Henry c
ringed on the inside but didn’t correct her.

  “I’ll talk to our group and get back to you, but I’m sure we’ll want to do it.”

  On their way back to the center, Rayanne said, “That’s what I’m talking about. Traditional performances. That’s how we want to connect to the community. Not a big loud thing.”

  “Beat Braves are more than a big loud thing. I would like to change your mind about this,” Henry said. “They’re going to play at a party this weekend. Let me take you.” Before she could start, he added, “Not as a date. For work-related information gathering. You can even meet me there if you don’t want a ride with me.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  19

  Henry drove while Jack used the apartment-hunting app to give him directions. They drove up and down a busy street lined with strip malls and fast-food spots.

  “This should be it,” Jack said.

  “What should be it? We aren’t anywhere,” Henry said. “I see asphalt, telephone wires, and a mini-mart with bars on the windows.”

  “Maybe that’s it. Maybe there’s a little room over the mini-mart,” Jack said. “Make a right at the light and pull around into that alley.”

  Henry followed his instructions and stopped adjacent to a rundown building. “The peeling paint is a nice touch.”

  “This says they have a one-bedroom in our price range. Updated appliances, bike parking, and close to public transportation. Do you want to go in?”

  “Not really,” Henry said. “Is there anything in a less desirable location in our price range with two bedrooms?”

  “Less desirable than three steps off the main drag, and within spitting distance of a mini-mart and a fried-chicken stand? We’re here. Let’s look.”

  “Those things might be amenities,” Henry said. “We might like having immediate access to beef sticks and cheap beer.”

  Henry hoped once they saw the inside they would change their minds.

  “I don’t think this will work,” Henry said, staring at the freshly shampooed maroon carpet. Even the windows seemed too small. It would be fine for one guy but not for two, even the two of them who were accustomed to less living spaces that were less than optimal.