by Kimber White
“Your mother made it,” I said as the rest of the memory formed in my head.
Grandpa nodded as he gently placed the garment on the table. “Yes. She made it for Jesse. But, Jesse didn’t wear it. It was too small for her. She always said it was a shitty thing to do, my mother. Jesse claimed she deliberately made it two sizes too small. She was passive aggressive like that.”
I laughed as I ran my hands along the shelled beading. “I wish I’d known her too. I feel like I missed so much.”
A dead quiet fell over the room. I swear I’d meant it as a casual comment, not some bigger conversation. Ever since I came back, ever since he sent me away, I always wanted to know why. Sure, I understood the “paper” explanation. Grandpa was seventy years old when my parents died. He wasn’t equipped to care for a young girl all by himself. Still, he was the only family I had left and he shipped me off to strangers when I needed him most.
He put his hand on my back and I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself for what the next moment would bring. He could shift in and out when he got wistful like this. His dementia had robbed more than just his memories. It stole away the only real chance I ever felt I’d have to connect with him.
“I saved you,” he whispered. “Everything’s going to be all right.”
I looked up at him and patted the hand he rested on my shoulder. “You in there, Grandpa?”
He smiled down at me. “Sometimes. It gets harder and harder.”
A chill went through me as I realized his words sounded so much like Luke’s. Both of the main men in my life fought a daily battle to stay inside themselves. All I could do was stand by and watch. But, in Luke’s case, I think I helped him. With Grandpa, I think I reminded him too much of the past.
“You have missed so much, Ginger Girl.”
Hot tears stung my eyes. I’d forgotten he used to call me that too. “It’s all gonna be okay now, though. Time for a truce,” he said.
“Oh, Gramps. We were never at war, were we?”
“It’ll never touch you, Tamryn.”
My heart sank. He was back to talking in riddles. I shouldn’t have pressed him with a question. I should have just let him keep talking. He reached around me and held up the leather skirt.
“You’ll wear it today? For her? For your mother?”
I took the skirt from him and pressed it to me. The faint scent of perfume nearly brought me to my knees. It smelled like her. Just a little.
“Of course I will. What about you, though? You planning on going into town in your pajama pants? Is that an old Odawa custom I don’t know about?”
Grandpa puffed out his chest and grabbed imaginary lapels on the front of his shirt. “I’ve got a suit. All pressed and ready to go.”
“A suit? I didn’t press any of your suits.”
He shook his head. “Taken care of. Verna sent it along yesterday with those tarts she baked.”
Sure enough, Lloyd and Verna Crow had stopped by yesterday morning to check on us. I’d carried in armfuls of groceries. She must have brought the suit in when I went to the pantry to put everything away. Grandpa brought it out of the hall closet and made me a courtly bow as he held it out.
“Well, you’re going to look mighty fine, Wyatt Redbird,” I said. “You sure you won’t let me give you a haircut?” Grandpa had worn it long as far back as I could remember. As a young man, it had been coal black and hung to the middle of his back. Now, it was snow white and just scraped his shoulders.
“Bad luck,” he said. “But you can tie it back for me.”
“Deal.”
Grandpa came to me again. He held out his arms and pulled me close to him. I couldn’t help it. I held my breath. It was too hard to believe this gesture was meant only for me. He might be seeing Jessie or my mother instead.
“Don’t worry so much, Tamryn,” he said, and a new lump formed in my throat. “I told you. Everything’s going to be okay now. You’ll see when we get there.”
“See what?”
He put his fingers to his lips and made a gesture of turning a lock and throwing away a key.
“Great. Surprises. I kinda feel like I’ve had enough of those.”
Grandpa smiled so wide his eyes were nearly swallowed in the deep creases at his temples. It was good to see.
“Trust me, Ginger Girl. This one’s going to be the best one of all.”
Chapter Eleven
All of Oodena came out for the festival. Downtown had been transformed into the frontier town of its earliest days. Horse-drawn wagons lined the thoroughfare, and all of the shopkeepers set displays out on the newly shoveled sidewalks. They kept warm with pop-up tents and propane heaters, but if you didn’t look too closely, it was easy to imagine this was 1866. The sheriff had blocked off the streets so no cars could be seen anywhere.
Mrs. Crow sold roasted chestnuts in brown paper bags. Duffy Clairmont stood in front of his hardware shop giving a demonstration on how to sharpen knives. Everywhere you looked you could buy trinkets and baubles and Native American souvenirs. Founder’s Day had turned into a bona fide tourist draw. People lined up to buy handmade quilts outside the Opego’s Dry Cleaners. Mrs. Aken ushered people into the library to hear Odawa folktales and work on beading crafts.
“It’s fantastic,” I said to Grandpa as we walked down the sidewalk. He held my hand tight. His back straightened with pride at the beaming smiles we got as people saw what I was wearing. I had to alter the costume a little and wear cold weather gear underneath it. Also, the moccasins were out of the question. I wore my fleece-lined boots.
“Oh, you remind me so much of Liddy.” Verna Crow actually reached out and pinched my cheeks. “She’d be so proud of you today. Congratulations, honey. We are all so happy for you.”
“Uh, thanks.” Grandpa’s hand stiffened in mine and a look passed between him and Verna. She shot him a conspiratorial wink and sent us on our way with a bag of fresh roasted chestnuts. If I’d known all it would take to make her so happy was a leather skirt and a poncho, I might have worn it sooner.
“You wanna tell me what that was all about? Have I won something?”
“Look!” Grandpa pointed up ahead. “Show’s about to start. Karrow promised to save us front row seats.” Grandpa nearly pulled my arm out of its socket as we headed for the recently restored Oodena Theater.
It seemed everyone else in the town shared his urgency as the shopkeepers started locking their doors and everyone poured out of the buildings heading for the theater. The “show” as I recalled it, was a reading by whichever of the town’s elders who could still stand upright about the founding of Oodena. Even as a kid, I remember it being corny and boring. But, the elementary school kids put on a traditional dance, sang folk songs, and acted out scenes from some of the more famous Odawa folklore. I vaguely remembered throwing a fit when I was about five and Nancy Aken got picked to be the Odawa princess over me and they made me dress up as beaver. Some of the kids teased me about my red hair and freckles, and the teacher she said she wanted someone who looked the part better than I did.
Those same kids still lived in this town for the most part. Even Nancy Aken. She spotted me walking in and waved from across the room, her arm wrapped around Jake Blackstone. I raised my hand and waved back. We filed into the theater, and sure enough, Gerard Karrow stood in the front row holding his arm high above his head to get our attention. He pointed to two empty seats.
“Great,” I muttered under my breath. One of those empty seats was going to put me right next to Beau. Before I could think of a good excuse to sit anywhere else, Beau rushed up the aisle and put a possessive arm around me. He made enough of a spectacle of it that most of the townspeople already gathered in the theater turned to look. Beau leaned down and kissed my cheek. I went rigid, but all eyes were on the two of us. I noticed more than a few hushed whispers, pointed fingers, and smiles. Icy fingers of dread snaked their way up my spine. I didn’t like the vibe coming from Beau or the rest of them one damn bit. But,
I’d have to pick my moment to unhook myself from him as the lights in the theater dimmed and we had to take our seats.
Beau tried to pull my hand into his lap, but I slid mine away and folded them beneath me. He leaned over to say something, but I put a finger to my lips. “The show’s about to start.”
Grandpa got up and walked to the end of the aisle, followed by Gerard. This left me with no buffer against Beau. Randall Crow, Lloyd’s father, waited for them near the stage stairs, and the three of them walked slowly up together with Gerard making sure Grandpa and Randall didn’t fall.
“I don’t know if it’s such a good idea if he goes up there,” I whispered.
“Shh.” Beau slid his arm around me. “He looks forward to this all year. They all do.”
The stage lights came up, and Grandpa stood at the end of a semi-circle with eight other men, most of them in their eighties like he was. A couple of them were a generation younger, like Gerard. Each man represented the head of what remained of the nine original families who had settled Oodena one hundred and fifty years ago. They acted as a sort of tribal council, though Oodena wasn’t part of any reservation. I’d heard the story recited a thousand times as a child as some dry, boring history lesson. Now though, I watched my grandfather’s eyes glisten. He held his back straight and proud. I could listen now with the ears of maturity.
The Nine Families had risked so much to forge a life for their loved ones away from their traditional lands, bucking the will of a government trying to force them onto a reservation. Instead, they chose their own path. A new town. On their own terms. The old men recounted how time and again, the U.S. Government tried to dismantle what they’d built here. As each of the men said their line, some of the school children behind them acted out scenes from the early days of Oodena.
“Three times they came for us,” Randall Crow said in a wavering voice, ravaged by Parkinson’s. “The soldiers of fear. But, we remained strong, steadfast. With the strength of the wolf we drove them away.”
Behind him, a group of kindergarten boys marched onto the stage wearing ill-fitting blue Union Army costumes. One of the little boys’ hats fell off and he swore under his breath as he stooped to retrieve it, sending a smattering of laughter through the audience. They pointed their wooden guns at the rest of the kids huddled in a corner in traditional Odawa dress. The boy soldiers kept advancing on them.
Then, out of the group of Odawa children, a tall boy rose and broke through the crowd. He wore a fake fur pelt across his shoulders and headdress so big it nearly swallowed him. It was a gray wolf’s head with glass eyes and long fangs.
“I don’t remember this part,” I said to Beau. A chill went through me as I looked closely at the pelt and headdress. Were they fake after all? The glass eyes glinted green under the stage lights and my palms started to sweat.
Beau looked at me with wide eyes. “I think your mom probably took you out of here before this part. Don’t you remember? You used to cry when the wolves came out.”
What? I had no memory of that. None. But, come to think of it, I only vaguely recalled the beaver incident. I couldn’t remember sitting through this part other than that. I didn’t like that Beau held some memory of me with my parents. Somehow, it felt like a violation. But, he was six years older than me. I would have been no more than eight the last time I came to an Oodena Founder’s Day pageant.
“Yeah. Sure.” I shifted in my seat trying to give Beau the hint I wasn’t a fan of his heavy arm around my shoulder, but he didn’t move it.
From the stage, the wolf boy put his hands up like claws and growled at the soldiers, who made a great show of cowering in fear. The wolf boy danced around the soldiers and drove them back to the shadows of the stage. Then, the wolf boy turned back toward the audience. He clasped his hands above his head in a victory gesture and flexed his little muscles like a body builder. This also got a big reaction out of the crowd. Then, he looked to someone offstage, his face white as a sheet. The poor kid had forgotten his lines. His teacher whisper-shouted from the wings and his face split into a grin of relief. He turned back toward the Odawa children and put his hands on his hips. He scratched his chin in contemplation as he walked around a group of girls. Then, he pointed to one of them and held out his hands.
One of the girls was pushed out of the group. She stumbled over her too-long leather skirt. The wolf boy caught her hand and walked off stage with her. The rest of the Odawa kids cheered. A half dozen more kids dressed just like the wolf boy pranced across the stage and danced with the Odawa kids. Their steps were orderly at first, following a circular pattern, then it kind of turned into a free-for-all and one of the kids started to break dance.
Randall Crow and the rest of the crew from the Nine Families had already retaken their seats. Only Grandpa and Gerard Karrow stayed in the shadows to the right of the stage. The teacher stepped out from the wings and prompted the audience to clap, and the curtain came down.
The schoolteacher was Mrs. Opego. God, she’d been my kindergarten teacher too. She of the beaver incident. She cupped her hand over her eyes and strained against the stage lights. She recognized me in the front row and her eyes widened. She shot me a too-familiar wink and waved. Why in the hell did everyone keep doing that today? I raised a halting hand and waved back. Once again, it seemed all eyes in the audience were on me.
“I’m so pleased you all could join us on this our most special day of the year,” Mrs. Opego said. “The kids have worked so hard to bring you that story and to add their own spin to it. Now, Chief Redbird has something wonderful to share with you.”
“Chief Redbird?” I ran a hand over my brow and sank down in my seat a little.
Beau laughed softly beside me. “Sorry. Lois always gets a little carried away. They started doing that a few years ago, too. It’s just because he’s the oldest one of the heads of the families.”
Gerard and Grandpa took center stage again, with Gerard taking the microphone from Mrs. Opego’s outstretched hand. Gerard hemmed and hawed a little then cleared his throat, uncomfortable in the spotlight. My grandfather, meanwhile, radiated confidence with his squared shoulders and beaming eyes.
“Today, the chief and I get the honor of carrying on a tradition that’s gotten a little lost over the years. With this, our sesquicentennial Founder’s Day celebration, it seems only fitting that we can bring it back. It is my pride and pleasure to share our family’s good fortune with all of you on this day. For, today is as much a celebration of the future Oodena and the traditions of the Nine Families as it is of days long past. For one hundred and fifty years, our town, our people, have forged our own way in unity, family, pride, and respect. We know that whatever the next one hundred and fifty years bring, those values will stay strong. For the bonds forged by the Nine Families will continue to endure.”
Gerard Karrow’s shoulders began to tremble. He stumbled over his words again as his eyes grew wet with tears. Beau stiffened beside me, and all of a sudden I had trouble breathing. Something was about to happen. Something bad.
“It is my supreme honor to share with you the joyous news that will solidify that bond. My friends. My family. Join me and Chief Redbird in celebrating the upcoming union of our families as two of the Nine Families are about to become one. I’m so thrilled to announce the engagement of my son Beau to Tamryn Redbird Kane.”
My heart dropped to the floor as the spotlight shifted and shone straight down on Beau and me. I vaguely remember opening and closing my mouth like a fish as Beau clasped his hand in mine and hauled me to my feet. Then, he kissed me as the audience erupted in cheers that deafened me and made my blood run cold.
Chapter Twelve
Ten minutes seemed to take forever. That’s how long it took to clear the theater. I wanted to scream. I wanted to rip the stuffing out of the armchair. I wanted to rip the plastic smile right off Beau’s face. But, we were surrounded by town well-wishers. It was a melee.
“Get me the hell out of here,” I mutt
ered tight-lipped to Beau. Ever the narcissist, he mistook my thinly veiled rage for shyness. He made excuses about his fiancée needing some air. Then finally, mercifully, we got the hell out of that theater and into the open air.
As soon as the crowd dispersed, drawn by Mrs. Aken’s two o’clock basket weaving demonstration, I whirled on Beau.
“What the hell was that?”
Beau kept waving to townspeople as he kept a vice-like grip on my arm. He muscled me out of the town square until we stood behind a gazebo at the edge of the footbridge over the narrowest part of Miskwaa Creek where it ran through town.
“Get your hands off me. Jesus. You ask me out. I say no. So you take that to mean I want to marry you instead? Have you lost your fucking mind?”
“Watch your mouth,” Beau said, practically hissing it like a snake. “You sound like trash when you talk like that.”
“Yeah? Well, get used to it because fuck you. The only reason I didn’t rip you a new one in front of the whole town is because I was afraid of making a scene with my grandfather at the center of it.”
At the mention of him, I scanned the crowd. Grandpa stood on the steps of the theater with Gerard. The town well-wishers had moved their show to the two of them, leaving Beau and me thankfully alone for the time being. Grandpa looked happy, but his color wasn’t good. He had a gray pallor to his skin that I didn’t like one bit. As much as I wanted to finish ripping Beau’s face off, I needed to get Grandpa home and in bed.
Beau held me by my upper arms. He plastered that smile on his face and looked at me with shining eyes. God. Did he really not get how much I disliked him? Had I not been clear enough?
“You need to listen to your grandfather. He knows what’s best for you.”
“My grandfather thinks I’m my mother ninety percent of the time! You and your father took advantage of him. Did you tell him I was in love with you or something? Jesus. You’re both delusional.”