Under a Blackberry Moon

by Serena Miller

“Give me your hand.”

  He gave her his hand.

  And then she did one of the sweetest things Skypilot had ever seen. She opened her father’s hand, placed a kiss in the middle of it, and closed it back up. “Will you hold it tight forever?”

  He watched as her father, with tears streaming down his face, got down on his knees, reached for her hand, lifted it palm up, placed a kiss in it, and closed it into a fist. “I held it tight, my little one, forever and ever, just like I promised the last time I saw you. I held it so tight it gave me life.”

  Skypilot could hardly bear it, the thought of his beloved Moon Song remembering the parting gesture of her father after all these years.

  As Moon Song and her father embraced, he remembered the first time he’d seen her—a young Indian girl with a baby. She had barely registered with him until he was hurt and she chose to take care of him. Who could ever have guessed all that had gone on in her life before he met her? How many other stories were waiting just outside this door?

  It was not his place to watch this reunion. It was a holy thing and not for his eyes. He turned, left the room, and closed the door softly behind him.

  28

  The weather turned fine again, and as the wind from the lake swept over the woods, the trees shook off the snow like a retriever shaking off water. Moon Song’s tribe did what it had done for centuries. They built a small village, foraged for food, explored their new land, and played with their children.

  It took several weeks for Moon Song to regain her health. During this time, she and her father discussed their two lifetimes away from one another and spent much time talking together. Ben, as he liked to be called, enjoyed the miracle of getting to know his daughter and little grandson, while Skypilot worked with the Chippewas as they erected sturdy wigwams to get their tribe through the true winter that would come soon.

  Fallen Arrow, who had hated long and hard this man who had innocently been at the root of her daughter’s death, accepted the truth of his faithful heart, and although she could not forgive him completely, she tolerated him well enough when she saw the joy her granddaughter took in having her father once again in her life.

  It was too late for the tribe to forage and preserve all the food they would need to get through the winter, so Skypilot and Ben made several trips to Marquette with the mule and two of Ben’s horses to purchase and bring back provisions. Ben was generous with his remaining funds, and Skypilot felt content that this was one winter when the elders would not have to go hungry so that the children could eat.

  He was also content with watching Moon Song grow strong and helping the tribe prepare itself for winter. He did not press for marriage or try to spend much time alone with her. He sensed that she needed time to absorb all that had happened, and he derived great pleasure in watching her and her father’s relationship grow and heal. Having finally found himself in Fallen Arrow’s good graces, he set about learning as much as possible from her about the Chippewa culture.

  Fallen Arrow was a walking encyclopedia of their beliefs, their legends, and their medicines. Memorizing had always come easy for him, and the things Fallen Arrow was teaching him were important, so he applied himself to remember as many things as possible. When she was gone, he knew that many of the old ways would die with her unless he could preserve them. On one of his trips to Marquette, he purchased paper and ink and began to commit her teachings not only to memory but to paper. The more he learned, the more he found himself admiring the Chippewa people.

  With so much to build and do, it was the end of November before Skypilot and Moon Song found themselves truly alone again. Moon Song had gone out to set some rabbit snares. When she did not return by nightfall, he grew concerned and went looking for her.

  He found her sitting on a rock overlooking the great lake. She looked especially beautiful bathed in the light of the full moon.

  “So, did you get all your snares set?” he asked as he sat down beside her.

  “I did.” She did not seem startled by his sudden presence. Instead, she leaned comfortably against him, and he put his arm around her waist. “Tomorrow I will see if I caught anything. You were worried about me?”

  “A little,” he admitted. “But I also missed you and wanted an excuse to come find you. This feels nice.”

  “I was planning to come in soon.” She snuggled closer. “I was growing cold, but now you are my campfire.”

  “What were you thinking about, sitting out here all alone?”

  “I was enjoying the sight of the full moon on the water, and I was thinking about my father.”

  “Which moon is this, by the way?” he asked.

  “This is what the Chippewa call the Freezing Moon.”

  “That’s appropriate. I saw a skiff of ice on the stream behind your father’s cabin this morning.” He paused. “What were you thinking about him?”

  “He is a good man, I think. Much like you.”

  “Thank you.” It felt so good holding her. He was grateful for this small bit of privacy. “I’m glad you feel that way.”

  She turned to look at him and her eyes were troubled. “My father has very strong beliefs from the Bible. Much like yours.”

  “I know. We’ve talked at some length on our trips to Marquette,” he said. “He told me that he became a man of faith by trying to become the exact opposite of his father.”

  “He would like for me to share that faith.” Moon Song’s voice grew small. “But I cannot.”

  His heart nearly stopped. He had known about Ben’s discussions with Moon Song and had backed off, thinking it was her father’s place to teach her.

  “Why?”

  “I can believe the old stories like the one you read me on our journey, about Noah and the flood and Queen Esther. I do not have any trouble at all believing in a God who is a Creator of the world. The God you speak of sounds a great deal like our Gitche Manido—the Creator of everything. I can even admire the wise teachings of the man called Jesus.”

  “But?”

  “But we have had many wise Chippewa teachers too.” She laid her hand gently over his. “I know it would please both you and my father if I could believe that this Jesus you worship is the Son of the Great Creator, but I cannot. I’m so sorry. I just cannot.”

  This was so blunt, Skypilot felt his world crumble. He would love her forever, but the words in the Bible about not being unequally yoked to an unbeliever had been bothering him ever since he had fallen in love with her.

  He’d hoped if he prayed hard enough and lived a good enough example before her, God would change her heart and convict her of the rightness of the message of salvation that Christ had given them. He’d hoped that her father’s teachings would sway her, but it had not.

  He knew she would marry him if he asked. His own steadfast love added to her father’s faithfulness had erased the doubts she had toward all white men. If he asked her to marry him now, he was certain she would say yes.

  The problem was . . . his faith had defined who he was for most of his life. If he did not believe in the resurrection of Christ, he would be a very different man. If he married Moon Song, they would become one, not only in body but in mind and spirit. Could he marry a woman who believed his Jesus was no better than one of the Chippewa wise men?

  His head told him no. His heart told him yes. His common sense told him that it would be an uphill struggle.

  Dear Lord, what can I say? What can I do? How can I give this woman up after coming so far with her?

  He stared silently at the reflection of the moon on the water. A heavy cloud passed between them and the moon, and they were thrown into darkness—a darkness that matched his spirit. A Scripture came into his mind but it was one he’d not contemplated for many years.

  “You are so quiet,” Moon Song said. “What are you thinking?”

  “I was thinking about a Scripture from the Gospel of Luke about a great darkness.”

  Moon Song leaned her head back against his ches
t. “Tell me.”

  “‘And it was about the sixth hour,’” he quoted. “‘And there was a darkness over all the earth until the ninth hour. And the sun was darkened, and the veil of the temple was rent in the midst.’”

  “What do those words mean?”

  “Luke is describing the crucifixion of Jesus. The people were watching him die. Some were happy, and some—like his friends and family—were grieving. The Bible says there was a great darkness that came over all the earth in the middle of the day and lasted for about three hours.”

  “I have seen that happen,” Moon Song said. “When the moon blots out the sun.”

  “My people call it a solar eclipse,” Skypilot said. “The moon gets between the sun and the earth and it gets very dark. But that isn’t what happened the day Jesus died.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because he was crucified during the Jewish celebration of the Passover, which was one of their major feast days.”

  He thought back to his seminary training.

  “The Jewish Passover was always held on the fourteenth of Nisan, the middle day of the moon cycle, the day on which a full moon—like the one we’re seeing now—would be visible in the evening sky.”

  “The covered suns that I’ve seen never happen when there is a full moon in the sky,” Moon Song said. “Grandmother taught me this the last time we had a great darkness during the day.”

  “That’s because when a moon is full, it is about half a million miles out of place for it to blot out the sun. It’s on the opposite side of the earth.”

  “Then the day your Jesus died, it was impossible for the moon to get between the earth and the sun?”

  “Yes. There had to be another reason for there to be such a great darkness for three hours.”

  Moon Song grew agitated and turned to face him again. “How can you know for sure any of this happened?”

  It had been a long time since Skypilot had reason to be grateful for the education he’d gotten, but he was grateful for it now.

  “Actually, there was a Roman historian named Thallus who lived at the same time of Jesus. He wrote about the crucifixion of Christ too. Except he was not a Christian, so he tried to explain the three-hour darkness away by saying it was caused by a solar eclipse.”

  “But he was wrong?”

  “Yes. Thallus was wrong. I believe the darkness had to be miraculous.”

  “And you believe this Jesus died and came back to life?”

  “I do. There were too many people who saw him in the flesh afterward. Not one of them ever took back their story that he rose from the dead, not even those who were tortured to death. The gospel stories are signed in their blood.”

  “Skypilot?” Moon Song’s voice was thoughtful.

  “Yes.”

  “Can you prove that Jesus is more than a story, that he truly is the Son of God and not just a trickster like our stories about Gitche Manido’s son, Nanabozho?”

  Skypilot thought about that question for a long time before he answered. “No, Moon Song. I wish I could prove it, but I can’t.” His arm tightened around her waist. “I’ll tell you one thing, though—I’m betting my life on it.”

  “I must think about this,” she said.

  Another passage came unbidden to his lips as the dark cloud scudded away, leaving the full moon shining brightly once again.

  “‘The heavens declare the glory of God,’” he quoted. “And the firmament sheweth his handiwork.’”

  Moon Song looked up into the sky. “I have been told that the moon was full the night I was born, the night my grandmother sang to me.”

  Skypilot could not help but hope that the song of the moon—the song of God’s miraculous firmament—might reach her tonight and enable her to feel the reality of Christ’s love and sacrifice.

  He suddenly realized that he had been a selfish man. He had hoped that Moon Song would become a Christian so that he would feel free to marry her, but there was so much more at stake than that. This precious girl who had been through so much, deserved to feel not just the assurance of her earthly father’s love, she deserved to feel the depth of God’s eternal love for her as well.

  His own love, although strong, was small compared to that.

  He had sadly underestimated Moon Song’s brilliant mind and tenacious spirit. The woman gave him no peace for months. With his help, she achieved a mastery of the written word, which she then applied to reading the Bible her father had left behind for her in that tin box. Sometimes it felt to Skypilot like she was peppering him with more questions than any mortal man could handle. It took every bit of knowledge he had to keep up with her.

  Some of the questions made him uncomfortable because they challenged things he had been taught by others and had accepted without question. Unlike him and her father, as Ben pointed out, she was not reading the Bible through stained-glass windows. Everything was new to her. Skypilot found some of his own beliefs drifting into new ways of seeing, and after deciding that this was a good thing, he began to relax and enjoy the spiritual adventure that Moon Song was taking him on. His admiration for her grew daily.

  God was faithful. There came a day the following July when Skypilot waded into the waters of Lake Superior with Moon Song. With a heart bursting with love and gratitude, he baptized his bride-to-be into the body of Christ. Two weeks later, they were married standing on the crest of the mountain in front of the cabin her father had built.

  They had sent word to Father Slovic to come marry them, and although Skypilot knew that most Catholic priests would not have done so without a certain amount of catechism, Slovic was a law unto himself in these parts, and he had evidently decided to leave well enough alone.

  Skypilot had no doubt, nor did Moon Song’s father, that the prognosis of the doctors that he had only weeks to live when he came here had been correct, but evidently the Lord had other plans for him. Or perhaps he recovered because he’d been able to let go of some of the hatred he’d carried for so long.

  Her father had not killed her mother, but he’d blamed himself for it to the point that he felt like he was completely responsible. Over the winter, Skypilot and Moon Song helped him realize that he’d been a victim of his father almost as much as she. They never did learn who had been responsible for her mother’s murder. They decided that for everyone’s sake, it was something that needed to be left alone. It was a rough land they lived in. After sixteen years there was a good chance that whoever had taken money to kill Moon Song’s mother was no longer alive.

  One thing they all had grown to realize was that hatred could do terrible things to the person who did the hating, and they determined to start a fresh life together.

  Father Slovic’s home was not terribly far from Moon Song’s land, and he had brought along a rather surprising wedding guest.

  “Isabella!” Skypilot exclaimed.

  It took him a minute to recognize her. She was wearing men’s britches and hiking boots. She carried a rucksack of some sort, which he found out later was filled with artist supplies.

  She looked rested, happy, at peace.

  “I came to sketch your wedding, Skypilot,” she said. “It’s the least I can do after all you and Moon Song did for me.”

  “Are you feeling, ah . . .” He wasn’t sure how to politely ask if she felt any desire to take little Standing Bear and run.

  “I have my own children now.” She laughed softly and gave him a hug. “I won’t be trying to borrow Moon Song’s baby ever again. I promise.”

  Her own children? It had been less than a year since they had last seen her. He glanced at Slovic, hoping for clarification.

  “Her husband had created a small family with an Indian woman before he met Isabella. He abandoned them. Isabella did not. The mother was having a terrible struggle raising them before she succumbed to diphtheria. One of the men at the fort contacted me, and I contacted Isabella, who stepped in.”

  “Where are they?” Skypilot asked.

>   “Royally entertaining Mrs. Veachy, unless I miss my guess,” Isabella said. “They are little scamps and I love them to pieces. Do you want to see their pictures?”

  “Pictures? I would love to.”

  From her rucksack, she produced a small booklet that she had filled with sketches. As she named and pointed out each of the three children, he could hear the pride and joy in her voice.

  “I’m so happy for you, Isabella.”

  “I’m not happy that their mother is no longer here,” Isabella said. “But I am happy that I can do the Lord’s work in providing for and loving them.”

  “Where do the four of you live?” he asked.

  “Not far from Father Slovic and Mrs. Veachy,” Isabella said. “I support myself by drawing detailed pictures of the various tribes that Father Slovic introduces me to. I sell them to one of his friends, an art collector, who has taken a shine to my drawings and says he’s creating the greatest collection of authentic images of Indian life in North America.”

  “Do you enjoy this work?” Skypilot asked.

  “More than you can ever know,” Isabella said. “Truly, Skypilot. I know I lost my mind for a while, but I’m all right now. I’ll always miss my little one, but the ache no longer makes me wild with pain. Now I have my other little ones to think of. I know it was a strange gift that my husband left me, and I realize that he was not a good man, but sometimes the Lord can make something good out of something bad. The children are innocent of wrongdoing, and so am I. There is no reason on earth I should not enjoy being a mother to them. Now, where is your lovely bride, and where is the marriage ceremony going to be? I want to set up my easel.”

  The marriage ceremony was simple and brief. Almost a letdown compared to the hours and hours Moon Song spent on preparing a proper bridal dress for herself. It was quite beautiful, perhaps the most beautiful she had ever seen. The beadwork was exquisite. The nearly white doeskin as soft as butter. She and her grandmother worked on it for weeks. The headdress alone was a work of art.

  It was worth every bead and every pricked finger to see the look on Skypilot’s face when she walked toward him and Slovic. She saw his quick intake of breath, and his eyes widen with appreciation as she approached. As for herself, she had to blink away the tears that kept threatening to spill she was so happy.