George exited the car in a hurry and headed into the bar without a word. Jimmy looked at Pruitt Brewster.
“George is dealing with a lot right now, Mr. Brewster,” he began.
“I know,” Pruitt Brewster said. “My mother said not to take his actions personally.”
Jimmy held out his hand. “Your mother is wise. I enjoyed meeting her.”
Pruitt Brewster smiled, but there was a trace of sadness to his smile. Jimmy wondered what her gift had meant to this man growing up. He was sure it wasn’t easy.
They shook hands and Jimmy went into the bar, a place draped in various-colored lights and filled with laughter and country and western music.
It was fairly lively for a Thursday, mostly locals unwinding after work.
“I’m surprised you found a table,” Jimmy said, walking toward George.
“One of the advantages of being old,” George said. “People think you should sit down.”
Jimmy would have preferred to stretch his legs a bit; the ride to and from Green Water had left him feeling cramped, and one leg was partially asleep. He wondered if he had something worse than arthritis developing.
Another song began, a man singing plaintively about his woman who left him with the kids and a broken-down truck.
“Jesus, I hate this country-music crap,” George said sullenly. “I ordered you a gin and tonic, that okay?”
Jimmy nodded tentatively. “Don’t we need to meet the family soon?”
George shook his head. “I can’t deal with that just yet.”
“Mrs. Brewster really upset you.”
“How would you like it if someone told you you were born in Arizona instead of Alaska?”
“I’d still be me,” Jimmy said easily.
George glared at him. “Do you suppose just once you could agree with me on something?”
“It would be a shock,” Jimmy admitted.
“Thank you.”
A waitress in a short skirt brought their drinks. George didn’t eye her or flirt with her. Jimmy wasn’t sure he had ever seen George ignore a pretty girl.
“George, is it possible she was telling the truth?”
“That old woman is senile.”
“I have to tell you, before you got the phone call that Donny was missing, I got a visit from Dabo Muu.”
George just looked at him.
Jimmy continued. “I also had a vision at the car lot. I saw…”
“Haven’t you and your gods done enough?” George said. “And why is your goddamn Raven so obsessed with kids?”
“This isn’t Raven,” said Jimmy quietly. “This is something else, something I have no knowledge of.”
“Well, then ask him,” George said. “Aren’t you two on a first-name basis? Best pals and all that?” George took a sip of his drink. “Fucking bird.”
“George, the only reason I am alive today is because Raven needs me around.”
“Ha! But why did you almost die? Because of a situation he sent you into.”
Jimmy wanted to remind him that the world would be a hellish place now, with humans the playthings for the Faceless One, but George knew that.
Jimmy nursed his drink, letting George calm down.
George stared into his drink for several minutes, then said, “I suppose we could go to the cemetery in Green Water tomorrow.”
“And the convalescent home?” Jimmy asked.
“Sure, why not,” said George sourly.
A rowdy crowd came in and they agreed it was time to leave.
The restaurant was a half block past the motel, a place called Fisherman’s Catch. They had stopped at their room to change shirts and, as a result, were fifteen minutes late.
The rest of the family was there, and Richard and Martin had left space between them for Jimmy and George.
George waved to everyone and was greeted warmly by all but Delphine. He went over to Melissa and asked if there was any word. She tearfully told him no. She and Trudy were holding hands tightly.
“Daddy,” she said quietly, “a man told us today, if it’s been this long…”
“Don’t you think like that,” he told her. “You stay strong and you pray. How is my other grandson doing?”
Melissa was wiping her eyes, so Trudy answered.
“He’s all right, Dad. He wishes he was here,” she said with a little laugh, her eyes growing glassy. “He’s sure he could find his brother…be the hero.”
George nodded. He kissed Trudy’s hands and Melissa’s forehead.
He walked past Delphine to his seat. He wanted to say something, but her expression was like a barrier of stone, so he kept his mouth shut.
They all ordered their dinners. George told Richard he wanted to pay for the meal for all of them, but Richard wouldn’t hear of it.
Martin chimed in that he’d better not see his father’s wallet. He then looked at Jimmy.
“How did you fellows spend the day, Jimmy?”
“Sleeping, I’m afraid. Not much excitement at our age.”
Martin grinned. “I think we can locate a bingo parlor if you need.”
George made a derisive sound. “Find us a poker parlor and you have a deal.”
Jimmy grinned. “George thinks we’re a pair of card sharks. Of course, the only person we ever fleeced was fleecing us in a long con.”
George made a face. “Fred Deutschendorf can kiss my sweet patoo.”
Dinner came and the food was quite good. They all ate with gusto, appetites fueled by a long and trying day.
As they were nearly finished, a pair of women came to the table where Melissa and Trudy sat. They smiled but there was a severity to them, in their dress and their ramrod-straight posture.
“Pardon us,” said the first. “You’re the mothers of that little boy who disappeared in the Atchafalaya, aren’t you? We saw you on the local news.”
Melissa and Trudy had appeared in a local broadcast pleading for any information on Donny.
Melissa merely nodded, while Trudy said, “Yes.”
“Such a terrible thing,” said the second, shaking her head in sorrow.
“It most surely is,” agreed the first.
“Thank you, ladies,” said Trudy.
“Did it ever occur to you,” said the first, “that God is punishing you for your sinful lifestyle?”
“Your ‘marriage’ is an abomination in His eyes,” the second said sadly.
“That is enough!” Richard said, standing so quickly his chair fell over. Martin also stood, as did the others. They were all like lionesses, regarding the two outsiders like they were threatening their cubs.
The first woman tossed a pamphlet onto the table, which landed in Trudy’s butter dish. “Pray for God’s forgiveness,” she said as the two walked away.
A waiter rushed over, apologizing profusely.
“You’re not to blame for someone’s ignorance,” Richard said. He handed the pamphlet to the waiter. “Please get this out of here.”
George went over to Melissa and said, “I’m so sorry, baby.”
Melissa nodded and began to cry.
Trudy touched George’s arm gently and he moved aside. Trudy pushed her chair closer to Melissa’s and embraced her, rocking her like a child.
George motioned to Jimmy.
Jimmy nodded and they exited the restaurant quietly.
“I didn’t know what else I could say,” George began.
“You’re making this worse,” Delphine said behind them.
They turned and Delphine got very close to her father, ignoring Jimmy, who stepped back.
“How was all that my fault?” George asked, bristling.
“We did better without you. Just go home.”
Martin stepped out of the restaurant but waited a short distance away.
“I have a right to be here—it’s not up to you.”
“I was more of a parent to that girl than you ever were,” Delphine hissed.
“That’s enough,” Mart
in said, stepping forward. “I understand you two have a lot of history, but this…this bullshit isn’t helping. If you two can’t be civil while a little boy is missing, then stay away from each other.” Martin glared at them both. “Got it?”
George nodded, but Delphine turned on her heel and went back inside.
Martin sighed. “I don’t know if she will ever come around, Pop.”
“She’s stubborn,” George said.
“I wonder where she gets that from?” Martin asked, smiling. He hugged his father tightly.
“I don’t think anyone is up for dessert and coffee,” Martin said.
“I’ve had enough socializing for one night,” George said. He turned to Jimmy. “You coming, Red Cloud?”
Jimmy nodded.
Martin started to laugh, then caught himself. “You, um, let him get away with that nonsense, Jimmy?”
“Actually, I’m amazed at how many famous Native Americans he knows,” Jimmy said.
“It doesn’t bother you?”
Jimmy paused. “Not from George. I used to respond in kind, but it grew old.”
“You’re the one who grew old, Pontiac. Let’s go,” George said.
Jimmy raised his eyebrows to Martin, who laughed this time.
—
George and Jimmy both turned in early, knowing the next day was going to be a busy one.
Jimmy lay on his bed, searching for that state between dreaming and wakefulness where he walked the realm of visions. He hoped to make contact with Uncle Will, who might have some teaching from the old ways he had forgotten.
The darkened room disappeared in a snow flurry, and he found himself walking through a snow-covered expanse. Standing like sentinels were giant Tlingit masks, Raven, Bear, Salmon, and Killer Whale.
Jimmy walked easily, all pain gone, breathing in the cold air with the gusto and grace of a young man.
He was home.
He walked on, hoping to find his uncle just beyond the next snowdrift or mask.
The sun rose swiftly, and the cold began to abate. Jimmy walked on, still keeping a demanding pace. Now, however, he was starting to feel out of breath.
The temperature climbed and he could see steam rising from the snow. It began to melt, and the masks began to topple over, some of them soon washing away in rivulets that became torrents, roaring rivers that threatened to drag him out to sea.
He called to his uncle, then, frightened at where the vision was taking him.
Grass sprouted beneath his feet, the water dissipating as trees sprouted like weeds in a time-lapse film, and creepers emerged from the ground like cellulose snakes, climbing and twining.
The air was filled with the sound of rapidly growing plants that rose, lived, and died within seconds, forming a thick loam while Jimmy cowered in a jungle gone mad.
The growth slowed to a normal, imperceptible level.
He was in Louisiana, the temperature and humidity equally high.
Jimmy fought his way through a stand of trees filled with parasitic vines and moss and stumbled down to the bank of a great, rushing river.
On the far side of the water was the snow and ice of his homeland.
Uncle Will stood there, and Jimmy could see he was shaking his head.
They shouted to each other, but the words were lost in the roar of the river.
There was no way to cross, and there were no gods to aid them.
Jimmy was on his own.
Exhausted, he wanted only to sleep, but his vision required he make his way back to his bed, a destination now glimpsed far off through the trees.
He began to walk.
—
Jimmy woke up at just after 9 A.M. He never slept so late in the day—not until he had come here. His whole body ached, a testament to the many arduous miles his vision had required. He sat up wearily. He was drained and exhausted, which was a hell of a way to start a new day.
“Mornin’, sunshine,” George said. He was watching some cable program, a cup of motel-room coffee in his hand.
Jimmy grunted and made his way slowly to the bathroom. His kidneys hurt and he actually looked for blood in his urine. There was none. He washed his face and took three Tylenol.
George was still engrossed in his program.
“You want to get breakfast before we rent a car?” Jimmy asked.
“Sounds good, I just have ten minutes left on this show. I had a bear claw in the lobby. It wasn’t too bad. Brought you one, and there’s coffee in the pot.”
“Thank you.” Jimmy got himself a styrofoam cup of coffee and the bear claw. It was far too sweet, but he was ravenous. The coffee was pretty good, but he thought coffee always tasted better in a ceramic mug.
He pulled up a chair next to George. “What are you watching?”
“A documentary about Amédé Ardoin. He was a musical prodigy, traveled all over with his accordion. Changed Cajun and creole music and laid down the roots of zydeco.”
“What happened to him?” Jimmy asked.
“Beaten near to death at a white dance hall—all because he used a white girl’s hankie to wipe his brow. That beating left him crazy, and he ended up buried in the mass grave of a mental hospital in the enlightened year of 1942.”
Jimmy shook his head.
“Three years later my daddy was killed fighting for these same United States.”
Jimmy nodded and sipped his coffee. He really had no words for such terrible things.
George smiled. “My daddy, he was a hell of a man, Jimmy. Strong and with a big laugh. I can still hear it. He’d carry me on his back and still sweep my mama up in his arms.” George shook his head, wiped at his eye. “He sure loved her.”
“You know, you’ve never really told me anything about your mother…Or your father, for that matter.”
George shrugged. “You never told me about your parents, either.”
“My father was one-quarter Inuit and my mother was full-blooded Tlingit. Mom was in the Raven clan, as was my uncle, Dad in Wolf. He was a fisherman, she taught grade school. My father hoped I would become a fisherman, but my uncle chose me to succeed him. My dad was both proud and disappointed. My mother worried about me, but she would have worried if I was a fisherman.”
Jimmy looked at George. “Those are the broad strokes.”
“How did they die?”
“My mother’s appendix burst. I had just turned nineteen. We had a local doctor but he was a drunk. She died en route to the hospital.”
“Jesus,” George said. “I’m sorry.”
“My father died several months later. They told me it was probably a stroke, but I know he had a broken heart.”
George nodded. Both of them had suffered losses just as painful, yet they were still around, as much as they had each wanted to die. Hell, Jimmy had died and they had sent him back.
George switched off the television. “My father was raised Catholic, but he lapsed, then joined the Baptists. Even so, my mother would tell me, he would sometimes invoke Mary or the saints. Old habits die hard.”
George sat there, thinking.
“And your mother?” Jimmy asked softly.
“Huh,” George said, brought out of his reverie. “My mother was a real Heinz 57; she was part Haitian, part Cajun, and part Atakapa-Ishak Indian.”
“Sounds like an interesting woman,” Jimmy said.
“She was a heathen,” said George bitterly, and Jimmy was surprised at his vehemence. “Oh, she went to church with my father, but she didn’t really believe it. She believed all life was sacred, that everything had a soul, and that made him uncomfortable.”
George shook his head. “Jimmy, you know I respect your beliefs, and I have seen some terrible things that make me believe your faith is as valid as my own. But my mother…”
Here George looked up, his face twisted, conflicted. “She was with my father—she should have honored his faith!”
What about her faith? Jimmy wondered, but something else occurred to him. “Georg
e, you were four years old when your father died in the war, seven when your mother died, right?”
“Yeah, so what?” George asked, wiping roughly at one eye.
“How could you possibly know all this? You were just a little boy.”
George looked at him, exasperated. “Uncle Nicholas told me. Haven’t you been paying attention?”
This raised several questions in Jimmy’s mind, but George was on his feet. “Let’s get this show on the road, Crazy Horse. I don’t want to be late for another happy family dinner.”
They both dressed and went to breakfast, then off to find a rental car.
Chapter 17
GREEN WATER, LOUISIANA
They settled on a large sedan that gave Jimmy some room to stretch out. George did the driving, and he took them to Green Water at a much more rapid pace than Pruitt Brewster.
“You hoping to bring home a speeding ticket there, Mario Andretti?” Jimmy asked, a little uncomfortable with George’s speed.
“You’re lucky I don’t have Helen with me—then you’d really see some horsepower.”
They passed a sign that announced, 65—SPEED CHECKED BY RADAR.
At that, George slowed down, though not by much.
George had looked up both the Green Water Convalescent Home and the cemetery on his phone. Green Water was a simple grid and both locations were easy to find.
They parked at the home just as an ambulance pulled out, lights flashing and siren blaring.
“I hope that’s not her,” George said.
They went in and found a young woman at the front desk. Her name tag read DELIA.
“May I help you?” she said brightly.
George stepped forward, removing his hat. “Yes, ma’am. My name is George Watters. A Mrs. Adeline Pruitt said I would find a relative here.”
“And her name?” Delia asked.
“She didn’t give me a name. I would assume it would be Watters or Boudreaux.”
Delia checked her computer. She brightened. “Yes, we have Coraline Boudreaux here, and you are listed as next of kin…” She frowned. “Actually, Mr. Watters, you are her only kin. It seems everyone else has passed on or lost touch with us.”
“May I see her?” George asked.
Delia looked at her screen. “She’s down for a nap, right now. Poor thing gets very tired. Could you come back in about an hour?”
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