The Liberation of Ravenna Morton

by Suzanne Jenkins

  “Come on nothing. I’ve seen my family more in the past two weeks than I have all year, and frankly, I’m sick of it. If April or my mother call again, I’m not available. I’m even tempted to avoid my dad. He’s as much to blame as anyone.”

  Becky turned her back to hide her shock. Ozzy had never criticized his father to her in all the years they’d been together.

  “I was hoping you’d bring Amy and me along today after work,” she asked. “We won’t stay long. Amy’s art teacher at the elementary school mentioned Ravenna’s baskets yesterday, and Amy wants to buy one herself.”

  Becky taught art at the same school where Ozzy taught math. It made him uncomfortable that Amy’s teacher would find out they didn’t have any of Ravenna’s baskets in their own house and possibly say something to one of the other high school teachers. As always, his pride was a powerful motivator.

  “Okay,” he relented. “That’s all I need, for her teacher to think we aren’t supporting my mother’s craft. As soon as dinner is finished, let’s go over. I don’t feel like bushwhacking in the dark.”

  Becky didn’t reply, knowing he was exaggerating. She loved going to her mother-in-law’s cabin. Now that the children were older, she planned on taking advantage of all of Ravenna’s skills. She wanted to learn everything there was to learn from her before she…and it was here that Becky paused, not wanting even to think of Ravenna not being there at the edge of the river. How about before she retires?

  After dinner, Ozzy gave Becky the look, and she rounded up the kids for a surprise. “Come on, we’re going to Nicky’s house.”

  Their four children screamed with delight; the boys especially liked to go because everything about the way Ravenna lived was suitable for boys. The extra bedroom had four sets of bunk beds. The rough wood floor of the longhouse might have water seeping up between the boards during a heavy rain or a deep snowfall with a quick melt. The boys loved the wooden stove and the oil lamps, and Becky never worried about fire because Ravenna had buckets of water all over the place along with fire extinguishers. But Ozzy had never allowed his children to stay overnight with their grandmother, and eventually, Ravenna got the hint; her house wasn’t good enough for her own grandchildren. In her own, gentle way, she never said anything to Ozzy about it.

  Since she didn’t have a phone, they couldn’t call to warn her, so after dinner, armed with flashlights, Ozzy’s family converged upon Ravenna’s cabin. “Hoot!” Ozzy said, with five soft hoots following him.

  “Nokomis, ondass,” son Alex called out. Grandmother, come here!

  Ozzy looked at his son quizzically. “Where in God’s name did he learn that?” he whispered to Becky.

  She shrugged her shoulders. Who knew?

  Ravenna was inside the cabin, organizing basket-weaving materials, when she heard Ozzy’s hoot. Running around to the front, she heard Alex’s greeting.

  “Aaniin ezhi-ayaayan, Alex?” she said, running to them. “Oh, boozhoo noozhis.” How are you, Alex? Hello, grandchildren! She encircled the family with her arms, bobbing up and down slightly with delight, just enough that it made the others laugh.

  Ozzy relaxed against his will; this foreboding person was just his old mother. There was no reason to be afraid of her; she’d never push her ideas off on another person, especially her son’s children.

  “Come in, come in,” she said in her nasal accent, another reason a smile came to his face.

  Ozzy looked over her head at Becky and mouthed thank you. When he stepped over the threshold of the cabin, the familiar smells of vanilla and pine needles filled his head with scent and memory. Why, as an adult, did the few negatives about one’s childhood have such power? There was so much good to concentrate on.

  “When I was a little boy, that smell of the sweet grass was the last thing I remember before I fell asleep at night and the first thing I was aware of when I woke up.”

  Ravenna spun around to look at her son, shocked he’d admit to memories. The children started to sniff the air.

  “I smell it, and Christmas trees, too,” Ben said.

  Stunned, but in a good way, Ravenna went to the stove and started making hot chocolate for the children. “Tea or hot cocoa?” she said to Becky and Ozzy, finally finding her voice. They’d have tea. She brought out a plate of flat bread she’d made from scratch, down to grinding the flour.

  Ozzy reached for one, and when he bit into it, the flavors were another burst of childhood memory. “Nimaamaa, what is this flavor again? I know I ask you every time you make these.”

  Becky looked at her husband, sure he wasn’t aware that he’d just used the Ojibwe word for mother.

  “It’s just honey, honey,” she said, everyone laughing.

  “Well, it’s amazing,” he said, his body relaxing, happiness trying to take hold in spite of him fighting it. Then he looked at Becky. “We should get the recipe.”

  Becky nodded. “I’d like all of your recipes, Nimaamaa. We should do that for Christmas, put together a booklet of all the cherished family recipes.”

  Ravenna looked at her and frowned. “I don’t have enough to put into a book,” she said. “I wish that we could put all the basket-weaving techniques I learned from my mother into a book.”

  Amy joined in the conversation. “Nicky, will you teach me to weave baskets? I’ll help you write your book.”

  Of course, Ravenna was thrilled that someone was finally showing interest.

  “I’ll learn too,” Becky said.

  Ravenna turned her back to prepare the hot cocoa, worried her shining eyes would give away her real emotion. Something positive, she thought. Positive in a vast ocean of negative.

  Chapter 16

  April was in a quandary. Shocked after hearing that Peggy had spent time in a boarding school, she was both annoyed and grateful to Esme for going to Chicago and meeting with George Patos. The annoyance had its origin in pride. Why didn’t Esme invite her to go along? Or at least tell her what she was planning? Esme didn’t get defensive when April asked her.

  “I wasn’t trying to be secretive. I just felt like I wanted to see him without being prompted. Or schooled; the less I knew, the better.”

  April stewed about it for the rest of the day after Esme called her from the train coming home. It was still early, not yet three.

  “I wanted to tell you what I discovered so that you can decide what action to take. He’s got documentation of your grandmother’s. He practically snatched the letter out of my hands when I stood up to leave.”

  “I wonder what we should do,” April said. “I mean, either he hands it over, or we sue him.”

  “You’re the attorney,” Esme said. “But I was thinking the same thing. I just hope he doesn’t burn them.”

  April hadn’t thought of the possibility that he would destroy the documents. “Why not just ask him? Or maybe if Ravenna asked, it would have more impact.”

  They spoke a bit longer and said good-bye before Esme lost the phone signal.

  On her commute home, April made the decision to call George Patos rather than tell Ravenna. Then if he decided not to release her grandmother’s journal, she could decide what to do at that time, whether to take action on her own or with the knowledge of the rest of the family, or to just pretend the papers didn’t exist.

  Ted wasn’t home yet, so she went to her office and started looking for George Patos’ phone number before she even took her coat off.

  “I wondered how long it would take for you to get in touch,” he said, with a hint of sarcasm. “Ravenna’s granddaughter read the letter and then bolted.”

  “It sounds like it was a very upsetting story,” April said. “Why did it take a stranger to get you to acknowledge the existence of my grandmother’s papers? George, I feel like you orchestrated a whole lot of drama for our family that could have been avoided, from telling my parents where Maria was, to this.”

  “It doesn’t faze me in the least that you’re placing the blame on me,” he replied. �
�All I did was support a friend in her time of need. I was asked to keep certain information confidential, and I did. Your sister had a great life. Better than if she’d been raised by Peggy or Ravenna.”

  April bit her tongue. He was still capable of being a jerk, even at age ninety. “I’m not debating that with you. Will you release my grandmother’s papers?” she asked, in her best lawyer tone of voice. There was silence for a moment, and April thought, Oh no.

  “Yes, of course. I was waiting for you to call. I wasn’t going to hand them over to the New Yorker. There was never any doubt you would get them, I just had to wait for my cousin Gus and his wife to die first. It was a condition of the adoption. It didn’t have anything to do with the Indian Adoption Project, either.”

  April didn’t reply, although she felt it had everything to do with it. She thanked him for releasing the papers. “I have one more question, please,” she asked. “How did you end up with the journal?”

  He didn’t respond right away.

  “She trusted me. Keeping such incriminating information around the cabin was too dangerous in her mind. Although I didn’t realize it at the time, she was terribly depressed. That she was able to take her life is proof enough of it, I guess.”

  “What do you mean she took her own life?” April was shocked. She always thought Peggy died in her sleep. “Does my mother know this?”

  “What? That Peggy committed suicide? Yes, April, Ravenna found her. I thought the New Yorker told you everything.” George felt sick to his stomach.

  “We spoke for five minutes while she was on the train coming home. All she had time to tell me about was the boarding school letter and the documents you have. There was no time for anything else.”

  April was talking loudly enough for Ted to hear when he arrived home. He paused, closing the front door carefully, standing with his coat on, listening.

  “How did she die? Where did my mother find her?”

  “She hung herself,” George said. “I don’t know where Ravenna had gone; she was probably out foraging. Peggy did it outside, hung herself from a tree near the river’s edge. Ravenna had to climb a ladder to cut her down. Later, she asked if I knew a logger who could cut the tree down.”

  “Oh my God,” April cried. “My poor mother. She’s never breathed a word of this. Did she know Peggy was taken away to the boarding school?”

  “No,” George admitted. “No one knew but Robert and his family. Peggy never saw her parents again.”

  “I still don’t understand how you ended up with the documents,” April said, anger building now.

  “She might have been afraid that if she was unsuccessful taking her life and the papers were found, she’d never have any peace again.

  “The last time I saw her, I was still living in Douglas although the sawmill had closed a long while before. My wife was still alive. I drove over to the cabin to see Peggy on a day they were busy basket making; business was doing well enough that John was taking classes at Western Michigan. When I got there, Ravenna had gone for a walk, and Peggy was alone in the house. Pules was in her last month of high school.

  “‘I don’t know how much longer I can tolerate this,’ she said to me. Pules was acting out, and Peggy had no one to help her. Ravenna tried her best, but Peggy was, well, you’ll know this soon enough if you read the letter. Peggy was mistreating your mother.”

  “What do you mean mistreating?” April didn’t realize that she’d been holding her breath. She grabbed onto the back of the desk chair to steady herself.

  “Peggy beat her. It was nothing new; she’d abused her from the time she was a child.”

  April sat down and began to cry, holding her hand over the phone. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  “Ravenna cowered when her mother came near her, even though she wasn’t going to touch her in front of me.

  “‘Take these,’ she said, handing me a package of something tied up in an old blanket. It was her journal and letters. ‘I don’t need Ravenna snooping around in my business.’

  “Later that night, she hung herself. Ravenna knew; she found her and cut her down like I said. She got word to me several days later. John visited me in Douglas.

  “‘My mother died,’ he said simply. ‘Can you come?’ I didn’t want to involve myself any further; too many questions would be asked, and I didn’t want to shed suspicion on your mother. Of course, I didn’t want to go to the cabin again, but I went because I was worried that if I didn’t, my name would come up eventually.

  “Ravenna had not moved her from the site for three days, although she’d laid her on a canvas sail. She’d dressed her in a traditional dress, with a beaded headband. Her hair was braided. The noose was still tied around Peggy’s neck. John helped Ravenna dig a grave up on the hill. ‘I don’t want the well to get contaminated,’ she said when asked why they didn’t just bury her by the cabin. The three of us struggled to get Peggy’s body up the hill that night. I didn’t have to worry about the authorities getting involved after all. I was saved from having to give a statement.”

  April bristled listening to him. It made her sick that George was always only worried about his own skin. She’d heard enough for now. “How can I get my grandmother’s papers, George? I prefer you send them here. If you’re unable to do that, I’ll ask my father to pick them up. Just out of curiosity, how much of this story does Mike know?”

  “None of it, I swear to you.”

  April thought it odd that George felt he needed to add that last bit, but let it go.

  “I’ll box up what I have and send it over in the morning.”

  “I have your word that you will send everything,” April stated. Ted entered the room and went to her, embracing her as she finished her call.

  “I promise you, yes.”

  “Good-bye, George,” she said, and without waiting for him to respond, she ended the call, falling against Ted. He held her, feeling her body shaking.

  “My grandmother abused my mother,” she cried. “And then, to finish it off, she hung herself out in back of the cabin so Ravenna would find her and have to cut her down.”

  Ted held on to her tightly, letting her talk.

  “I can’t believe my father didn’t know about it.”

  “Just ask him, April. Why the reluctance? I have always gotten the feeling that you are afraid to approach your father.”

  “I am, sort of. He’s like an honored guest in my mother’s house. He was never part of any problem solving. To be honest, I was a little shocked that he’s been so involved in this whole Maria/Esme thing.”

  “Have they met yet?” Ted asked.

  “He was there the other night,” she replied. “But I don’t remember him saying anything to her. My siblings were so hostile I spent the entire evening trying to run interference.”

  Mike Hetris didn’t say much to Esme because he was afraid of her. Finding Maria was frightening enough because of what it would require of him if she chose to meet the family. He was relieved when she refused to speak to April and even more so when she died. He hoped the daughter would refuse to have anything to do with the family. Then they could continue as they had been. It wasn’t ideal, certainly. But then suddenly, she was on her way from New York.

  In twenty years, he’d never suffered any consequences except separation from the only woman he’d loved, until George asked him to take over selling Ravenna’s baskets because he was moving back to Chicago. The couple reunited immediately, and he never looked back. But Ravenna spent a good deal of time in the past. Their unconventional relationship worked because it was what she wanted. He needed her love, wanted her, but she needed to continue her life on the river, and she didn’t want him living there full time, interrupting her dreams.

  “I’ll suffocate if you’re here all the time,” Ravenna said, frightened.

  He never suspected the real reason. The years of abuse at the hands of her mother left marks on her soul. The only way Ravenna felt she could mainta
in the peace she’d found was to be alone and remain in her fantasy life.

  The abuse Peggy suffered at boarding school and the abandonment by her family was slowly filtering down to her grandchildren. And although Ravenna would never raise a hand to them, giving nothing but love, her own pain affected them in ways she could have never imagined. The legacy of silence was crippling her six surviving children.

  And now there was the danger that Mike’s peace would soon disappear, too. Every detail need not be exposed. He’d been fine, living in the dark.

  Chapter 17

  As the weekend approached, Esme was feeling more and more conflicted. The original reason for coming to see Ravenna was of no importance. Her role in the family was obviously one that she had little control over; something spiritual was orchestrating whatever was happening. She’d discovered a family obviously in crisis, and all she had to do was just show up when invited. The impact her visit to Chicago would have was so completely unplanned, she knew there had to be other powers at work to have exposed what she’d learned. And the frightening aspect was that she didn’t think that was the end of it. There had to be more, ready for exposure.

  After Ted comforted April the evening of her chat with George, April needed to talk to Esme. “Please, let me bring you back here,” April begged. “I need to talk about what I learned from him. I still can’t believe it.”

  “No, I imagine you can’t. I can’t, either. I’ll come,” Esme said.

  April kissed Ted, promising to return with Esme in ten minutes. April picked her keys up. She’d never taken her coat off.

  “Are you okay to drive?” Ted asked.

  “I will be,” she answered. “Will you start dinner?”

  He nodded his head, walking to the door with her. “I’m worried,” he admitted. “Your family is taking over your life again.”