Sanctified

by Maggie Blackbird

  The electoral officer stepped up to the small stage. In a few moments, nominations would be underway. The band office secretary and the administrative assistant were on hand to help. After a check of the equipment, the electoral officer stood at the microphone. She eyed the timer set up on a table.

  “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight is the...”

  Jude again glanced at his phone. Nothing. He stole another peek at Raven. She was sipping her coffee, head down, but through the enormous crowd, he couldn’t see what held her attention.

  His phone dinged. A few people looked at him, and he switched his setting to silence.

  Went okay. Finished my lessons for tomorrow night. How about you?

  A bright glow filled his chest.

  Took the kids tobogganing. Phoned my sister Saturday night. We video chatted for a good hour. Went to church on Sunday. Then had dinner at the folks. Maybe we could enjoy another coffee after school tomorrow night?

  He hit send and sat back.

  “As you can see, these are the nominations from the mail-in ballots from the off-reserve membership.” The electoral officer pointed to the whiteboard where the band secretary frantically wrote. “Nominations for the on-reserve membership at this meeting are now open.”

  Raven stood. So did her other sister, Wren. They strode to the small stage.

  Murmurs echoed through the big hall.

  The electoral officer held out the mic to Raven.

  “I nominate Ernest Clayton Kabatay for chief,” she said into the microphone.

  Wren leaned in. “I second the nomination.”

  “I also nominate Ernest Clayton Kabatay for band council,” Raven added.

  Again, Wren leaned in. “I second the nomination.”

  The girls moved to the table to fill out the form with the administrative assistant.

  Jude nodded at Roy. They stood.

  “They’re making sure if Clayton doesn’t get in as chief, he has a chance at band council again. We gotta do the same,” Roy told Jude.

  “Sounds good.”

  For some strange reason, Jude’s heart rattled. He’d never participated in an election, unless his mail-in vote counted. Whenever band elections came around, he’d received the packet by post, which he’d filled out and had Bridget witness, and he’d done the same for her. Then they’d mailed their packages in the special envelopes.

  He stood in front of the microphone the electoral officer held. “I nominate Darryl Samuel Keejik for chief.”

  “I second the motion,” Roy said in his gruff voice.

  They also nominated and seconded Darryl for band council.

  The electoral officer motioned for Jude to see the administrative assistant. He withdrew his wallet and removed his Status Card, proof he was a band member of Ottertail Lake and held Indian Status recognized by the Canadian government.

  Darryl was right. This election system had to change. Everything had to do with the approval of the federal government. Even the electoral officer, a woman from the Tribal Area Advisory Council, had to be approved by Indigenous and Northern Affairs Canada.

  The rules had never previously bothered Jude, probably because he’d never lived on reserve and had a life separate from the Ojibway communities and people.

  Once he’d filled out the form and signed and dated it, he headed for the canteen to refill his coffee.

  “I’ll tell you something, this is gonna get a little dramatic.” Roy set his paper cup on the table. “Clayton’s got the biggest bone to pick with Darryl.”

  “Yeah. I get it. Clayton feels Darryl betrayed him when they went after the church two summers ago.”

  “Yup.” Roy scratched his chin. “Glad Darryl saw the light. Clayton? He’ll keep rabble-rousing. Men like him never change. Not surprised he got his sisters to nominate and second him. Not surprised either that Raven’s his campaign manager.”

  “She is?” Jude turned the spout on the big coffee urn. Why hadn’t she said something to him? Because I told her we shouldn’t talk politics while we’re together.

  “Clayton was bragging about it at the diner during supper.”

  Jude held out the cup he’d refilled for Roy. He snuck a glimpse at Raven’s family. Her mother sat front and center, a woman who’d have possessed great beauty if not for the hostility hardening her face. A deep wrinkle was embedded between her black brows from constantly knitting them in disapproval. Wrinkles around her lips. Frown lines. And a helping of crow’s feet from her perennial pinched expression.

  “Let’s go.” Jude headed back to his table.

  From what he’d heard, Arlene Kabatay, Raven’s mother, had six other sisters and four brothers. A very big family, which was the norm for the older days. Dad’s family was big, too, but not close. The Indian Residential Schools had done their job by destroying the kinship Dad had once shared with his siblings. His brothers and sisters lived all over Canada. Seven already dead. If not for Mom’s side, Jude wouldn’t have known family in an extended way.

  At the table, Dad had a pad of paper out, writing down each person who was nominated for chief or band council.

  Jude plopped in the chair beside Jenny, who’d also be nominated, since she already sat on band council.

  “There’ll be changes,” Roy muttered. “I’ll tell you something, after what’s happened over the last couple of years, people are reassessing who they want as leaders.” He slurped his coffee. “It’s gotta be a strong campaign. And it’ll be between Darryl and Clayton.”

  “Have you thought up any strategies yet?” Jenny asked.

  “I’m going to meet with Darryl tomorrow.” Jude snuck another peek at Raven, who was speaking to Fawn.

  Sadie, Jenny’s grandmother, shuffled to the stage. A traditional woman, she’d proven to be an ally for the church after taking Darryl’s side during the first protest two years ago. She used a cane to walk now.

  The electoral officer held out the microphone.

  “I nominate Emeric Augustine Matawapit for band council.” Even at her elderly age, Sadie’s voice was firm and strong.

  Jude almost fell out of his chair. Emery? Yes, the parishioners from the church had their strategy for nominations, and the Kabatays had theirs, but it was apparent the Traditionalists Society had gotten together to decide who they wanted at the leadership table, which was strange. because Darryl chaired the Traditionalists Society and should have known.

  Since Emery was a former Grassy District resident, if he won, his seat would be from his original district, since each geographic area on the reserve had one representative at the leadership table.

  “We need a seconder.” The electoral officer’s amplified voice carried through the hall.

  Basil Skunk, a well-respected elder for the Traditionalists Society, rose. He hobbled up to the stage.

  This wasn’t a strategy. For some reason, Sadie had decided to nominate Emery without consulting him or anyone else. Jude withdrew his phone and quickly texted Emery.

  You’ve been nominated for band council by Sadie Wasaya and Basil Skunk.

  Dad frowned. Roy’s beady eyes scrunched in confusion. It looked like they’d be meeting at Mom and Dad’s tomorrow now that Emery was a candidate—if he accepted the nomination, since he could decline.

  Sadie and Basil’s nomination earned them stink-eyes from the Kabatays, Raven included.

  * * * *

  Raven clicked her nails against the table. She sipped more coffee.

  “Y’see why we have to take back the Traditionalists Society?” Fawn murmured. “I can’t believe Sadie and Basil nominated Emery. It’s bad enough the biggest traitor to his culture and people, Darryl, is now a part of them and running for chief. If they get in, the reserve’s finished. The community will become a bunch of apples—white on the inside and red on the outside.”

  The diner would be in full swing tomorrow with everyone arriving for coffee to gossip about tonight’s nom
inations.

  “Maybe he won’t accept?” Raven tilted her cup to take another sip. She kept peeking at Jude over the rim. He was huddled with Roy, Jenny, his dad, and other people from the church.

  “This means they have four from the church running for band council.” Fawn held up four fingers. “Roy from Airplane, Jenny from Old Main, Emery’s Grassy, and Darryl’s Long River.”

  “Well, Grassy is full of Catholics. If the deacon could run, I bet he would. They had no choice but to nominate Emery.” Mom sniffed.

  Raven’s family had nominated those they wanted from the different areas at the leadership table. She checked her sheet Clayton had provided. She had to make sure people voted for the seven councilors they’d chosen.

  “She’s no elder.” Mom almost spit out her words while narrowing her eyes at Sadie. “She’s just old. No true elder would do what she did—nominate a man who studied to become a priest, and who’s loyal to a church that did its best to try and wipe us out.”

  Queasiness invaded Raven’s stomach. But Jude had proven to her his family wasn’t the enemy.

  “Basil. Bah.” Mom waved her hand. “He’s no elder either. Not if he seconded the nomination. He had it in him to be a wise man. Now... he’s nothing but senile.”

  If the venom kept dripping from Mom’s mouth, she’d turn into a snake.

  Raven checked her phone. She still had to answer Jude’s text. This might get her into trouble, but Friday night kept pounding through her head.

  Coffee sounds good. Geoff’s Camp?

  The message popped up.

  Geoff’s sounds good. I’ll let Mom know I’m working late. See you tomorrow night.

  No bantering. No teasing. From either of them. Already the politics Jude had insisted they steer clear of was beginning to interfere. He probably felt the pinch, too, since Raven’s entire family seemed to pinch her backside.

  * * * *

  Jude pulled up at Mom and Dad’s house. He’d been able to get away from the school after letting the staff know he had a political meeting to attend. Emery and Darryl were present. Roy’s old beater was also parked. The same for Jenny and a few others from the church.

  Jude scooted up the porch steps and dashed inside the main hallway to a full living room.

  Darryl strolled over, coffee in hand. “Thanks for the nomination and your support.”

  “And my brother? How’s he feeling?” Jude shrugged off his parka.

  “Shell-shocked.” Darryl snickered. “He sure wasn’t expecting that.”

  “Is he going to accept the nomination?” Jude hung his coat on the overflowing tree rack in the hallway. He followed Darryl through the archway into the living room.

  “At first he said no way. But I reminded him two respected elders nominated him—for a good reason. If he declined, he’d insult them. So Em’s keeping his name in the hat. He just didn’t see it coming, that’s all. He’s only heard from those two what a great spiritual leader he’ll be one day. They never mentioned him becoming a politician.”

  “In order to understand the community and their needs, sitting at the leadership table, if Emery wins a seat, will give him a clear view of what the people need.” Jude could see Basil and Sadie’s reasoning. “A spiritual leader? They really said that? They do know he’s not going to become a priest, right?”

  “Yeah. But they still insist he’ll lead us spiritually one day.” Darryl steered them through the living room—after saying hello to the people seated on the couch, armchair, and love seat—and into the dining room to an already full table.

  A red-faced Emery stood by the sliding doors in front of the screened-in deck.

  “Congratulations.” Jude smacked Emery’s shoulder.

  “Quit with the jokes, please.” Emery almost seemed to groan. “I’m still digesting everything.”

  “You’ll make a fine councilor if you get in.” Jude headed for the kitchen opposite the dining room. “C’mon.”

  Emery followed.

  “Am I going to be your campaign manager, too?” Jude filled his coffee mug.

  “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to campaign about. I don’t know anything about politics. Much less reserve politics.”

  True. Emery’s field was social services and Catholic theology. “You’ve got Darryl to coach you.” Jude fixed his coffee.

  “They should’ve nominated you instead.” Emery leaned against the counter.

  “But they didn’t. Hey, I just started living here. The community needs time to get to know me.”

  “They know who you are.” Emery made a face.

  “True. But they don’t know me well enough.”

  “How do you feel about... someone being a campaign manager? You two are going up against each other,” Emery murmured.

  Chapter Fourteen: We Don’t have to Fall in Love

  “I guess I’m gonna have to wait and see.” Jude leaned against the kitchen counter. He had to deal with his pride. Taking advice from his nine-years-younger brother wasn’t an affront to his capability of managing his own life. People a lot older had been more than willing to accept Emery as a priest by providing spiritual guidance to the laity and directing a parish.

  “Be careful. The Kabatays are...” Emery kneaded the handle of his mug.

  “Go ahead. Speak ill of them. God won’t strike you down.” Teasing lurked in Jude’s reply.

  “Clayton’s going to use any means he can to win. Raven wants him to win. She’s his campaign manager. Do you think... “ Emery’s lips formed into a straight line of concern.

  The spittle in Jude’s mouth morphed into a desert. Was his brother insinuating Raven was using him to gather information, or weaken his resolve so he’d lose sight of the election? “No. Can’t see it.” He shook his head vehemently.

  But Raven had used men in the past for devious purposes. If Adam was here, who knew her too well, what would he say? But digging information from Adam was wrong, or was it?

  “Text him...” Emery shrugged.

  A ball formed in Jude’s stomach. “Text who?”

  “Who you’re thinking about.”

  “And who am I thinking about?”

  “Adam.”

  “He’s busy. He’s managing the kitchen now at Benny’s. They have him there day and night.”

  “He’s a manager, which means he can take a break to talk to you.”

  Emery and his damned logic. Jude chugged down a good gulp of coffee. What man called another man to ask about relationship advice? Hell, this wasn’t even a relationship. They’d only started dating.

  “It wouldn’t hurt.”

  “Yep, I know.” Jude swigged more coffee. “The thing is, we’ve only been on one date. And I don’t want too many people knowing—”

  “Can you seriously see Adam gossiping about who’s dating whom?”

  Nope, Adam couldn’t care less about anyone’s love life. He also wouldn’t say boo to Bridget, since he was a man who stuck to the code of the streets and had learned to keep his mouth shut in jail and in prison. The clincher was Adam’s participation in the twelve-step recovery program, which meant more zipped lips.

  “No.”

  “Then ask him about her.”

  “You don’t trust her?”

  “I don’t trust Clayton.” Emery’s brows wilted. “Which is disappointing, but Clayton is Clayton.”

  Jude shivered. No, he couldn’t see Raven using him to win an election. As for consulting Adam... Jude squirmed. Maybe he should.

  * * * *

  Raven might as well have brought a blank-paged textbook for all she’d accomplished during her lesson. The other four students yawned and stretched. One glanced at the clock, since it was nearing the end of the class. They’d gotten the low-down on more analytic geometry tonight.

  She was this close to obtaining her grade eleven credits, with grade ten math still kicking her butt. But she’d nail the credit by the end of spring.
One more year to go. Then she could proudly say she was a high school graduate. Considering the number of students who dropped out upon reaching sixteen years, it was too bad more adults didn’t try to obtain their diploma. Most, instead, went for their GED.

  If Raven graduated, she’d be the first of her family to finish high school.

  Jude had his Master of Education, and he’d also acquired his principal’s certification. The Master of Theology was a little strange. But he’d explained in one of his texts he’d needed it to teach religious education in the Catholic school. His ex-wife was a nurse practitioner, which meant a master’s degree, plus a shitload of other education the job demanded.

  What the heck did he see in a high-school dropout? A recovering addict. A woman who’d fucked almost every guy in Winnipeg. She was nothing like his ex-wife.

  The other people rose from their desks, but Raven sat glued to her seat.

  Everyone headed out of the classroom. Jude remained behind his desk, typing on his laptop, maybe preparing their next lesson.

  Raven closed her textbook and binder.

  Jude glanced up. “Ready?”

  “Yeah.” She stood and grabbed her parka from behind the seat.

  “Lemme shut this down.” He kept typing.

  “Sure. No hurry.” Raven donned her jacket. She sidled up to the desk and glided her nails across the smooth top. She stood beside Jude’s chair. Leaning in, she inhaled his clean scent and the warmth coming from his ear. Something about campaign strategy was written on the spreadsheet.

  Jude slammed the lid shut. He swiveled in the chair.

  “I wasn’t supposed to see that?” Raven moistened her lips. She sat on the edge of the desk, one mukluk off the floor, which she swung slightly.

  A big grin spread across Jude’s face as his gaze traveled up and down. “At times I wonder if you turn it off.”

  “Turn off what?” She walked her nails along the desk’s top until they settled near Jude’s hand that held a pen.