by Lisa M Airey
“How is she now?” asked Gray, his face neutral, his body still.
“Well, that’s the good news,” said the doctor, taking a breath. “Only two fractured ribs and they are re-breaks along poorly healed fracture lines. She’s going to be in a good bit of pain. Someone will need to take care of her upon release.”
He wrote out a prescription for Percoset and proffered it to the neutral space between the two of them. They both snatched for the paper aggressively, but Gray won.
“Can we see her?” Gray asked.
The doctor nodded. “She’s still a tad fragile, gentlemen. We’ve had some frank conversation. I would venture to say she’s a bit emotional. We’ve given her something for the pain, but I don’t think it has kicked in yet.”
When the two men entered her treatment room, she greeted them with a weak, “Hey.” She took a ragged breath. “The gang’s all here.”
Gray stepped up and took a hand. Dan walked around the bed and took the other one.
“How is my car?” she asked.
“A little humpty dumpty,” said Dan matter-of-factly. In response to the confusion on her face, he finished the rhyme. “All the king’s horses and all the king’s men, couldn’t put—”
“Got it,” she said, her voice full of pain.
“Julie,” said Gray. She followed his voice with hollow eyes. “You need a four-wheel drive vehicle here. There is nothing to mourn.”
“Can I go home?” she asked. “I really, really want to go home.”
“Let me see what I can do,” said Dan, and he exited, giving Gray a weighted look. He didn’t like them alone together, but this was about Julie. He’d use his pull to expedite her discharge papers.
She had been right when she had spoken of her abuse. He hadn’t understood and couldn’t understand. He hadn’t lived it. He’d been accused of many things in his life, but never perfection and never would he have thought perfection so damning.
Gray took her home and stayed with her while she mended. It took her a month to feel back to normal and he tended to her every need. He cooked. He cleaned. He did her grocery shopping. When she was strong enough, he drove her to work each day, and he picked her up and drove her home each evening. He kept fresh flowers by her bedside.
He rubbed arnica on her bruises and wrapped her ribs after she showered. He helped to dress her each morning and he helped to undress her each night, placing a soft kiss on her lips before descending to the couch to turn in.
Dan checked in on her religiously and volunteered to help her with her transportation shortfall. The annual police auction was fast approaching. She had a good chance of finding a nice, confiscated vehicle that sold for a song.
In the end, she ended up with a green car that both men agreed upon. It was either a four-wheel or all-wheel drive. She didn’t care which, and she got it for a pittance.
26
After they won the baseball divisional finals, Julie displayed their championship trophy at the veterinary office and placed a donation bucket beside it. The players’ families had scrambled to come up with hotel fees in Butte. State finals would be even more costly. Rose typed up a flyer that solicited support, and Julie smiled often during the course of her day as she heard Rose wheedle and cajole dollar bills out of every customer that stopped by her desk.
Nobody could stop Rose when she took up a cause. She coerced her choir group to sing a fundraising performance after mass one Sunday and she placed donation cans on the counters of all the local merchants. She single-handedly bankrolled their trip to state finals and even enabled the team to sponsor a few parents along for the ride.
Gray called a team meeting the Wednesday before their Friday departure for the competition. “Men,” he said, as they sat midst their parents on the bleachers. “Friday night is the welcome dinner. We will sit together as a team and I expect you all to behave like professional ballplayers. Dress code is jacket and tie.”
“Whaaat?” The outcry was unanimous.
“Jacket and tie,” said Gray. “And a dress for the first base coach.” He gave Julie a nod and she nodded back.
A parent spoke up. “I’ve refereed state finals, Gray. I’ve attended that welcome dinner. The dress code has always been casual.”
“This is my dress code, Stan,” he said, looking back to the boys. “If you want to win, you’ve got to look like winners. Jacket and tie, or you don’t go.” The grumbling was plaintive. “And I want you sporting dress shoes,” said Gray. “With socks. No sneakers at the dinner.”
Again, he turned to Julie, “Heels for you please, first base coach.” It was all she could do to keep a straight face.
“Rose Campbell over at the veterinary office has amassed enough money during her fundraising campaign to pay for your hotel rooms and meals. Every single one of you is to write a thank-you letter and bring it with you Friday morning. The bus will be making a very loud and rowdy visit to the veterinary office before leaving town. I want you each to hand her your letter personally and say something nice. Your letter should be legible. It should be sincere. It should be in an envelope. If you forget your letter, you will not board the bus.”
Gray had their rapt attention.“First base coach will have a bouquet of flowers for Rose.”
Julie gave him another nod.
“Any questions?” he asked.
There were none. He looked to Julie and stepped aside, “Assistant Coach?”
“Men,” she said, stepping forward. She watched their spines stiffen as they acknowledged the compliment she gave them. “We’ll be decorating the bus early Friday morning before departure. Anyone who’d like to help needs to be here an hour ahead of time.”
“I’ll be looking for your A-game,” said Gray. “Bring it to me Friday.”
Julie dumped three empty doughnut flats into the trash can near the ball park. Brian came behind her with the empty juice boxes. The bus was a riot of colorful slogans, most of them incorporating #1. Everyone had showed up. Even parents had stayed to help decorate. Devon’s father, who worked for an automobile dealership, brought nylon streamers. The boys attached them to the side view mirrors, back bumper and emergency exit door. The bus was going to turn some heads.
Gray pulled up to the veterinary office with a caravan of parental cars all honking their horns loudly. Julie hadn’t told anyone at the office about their surprise visit, so Rose looked stricken when she opened the front door. She was clearly frightened by all the commotion.
Her jaw dropped in surprise as Julie handed her a bunch of red roses. Then, the boys filed out of the bus and marched across the street shouting “Rose! Rose! Rose!” each of them handing her their personal thank you card.
Rose cried. The dogs in the waiting room barked loudly. Horns blared. Traffic stopped. And Cole stood watching the organized display of gratitude with a wide, disbelieving grin.
“Win,” Rose shouted, clutching her thank you cards. “Win! Win! Win!”
Julie rode shotgun and called out the directions as Gray navigated the roadways en route to the state finals. They were the last team to arrive for the welcome dinner, their reserved tables noticeably empty midst the packed university cafeteria.
As they walked to their seats, past the kids in cut-offs and flip flops, t- shirts and camouflage pants, the room grew silent. Julie reached for Gray’s hand and he held it snuggly. The boys were aware of their stunning entrance. They looked good. They felt good and they walked a little taller as they continued across the room.
Gray watched the boys’ confidence build as they ate. He watched their eyes scan the room with a superiority they had not felt until this night. When their team was announced, the boys stood in unison and grunted out their manly chant.
They were the only team to declare themselves vocally. The room was intimidated and Gray was quite pleased. He leaned over and kissed Julie on the lips. It was a chaste kiss, but the boys saw it and demanded another. They picked up their silverware and tapped upon their glassware until G
ray leaned over and kissed Julie again at which point the boys erupted into their macho chant once again.
Julie blushed deeply and Gray grinned. When the welcoming ceremony was over, the Braves strutted toward their bus with a jaunty spring to their steps while all the other teams just mulled about trying to keep track of each other midst the throng.
“Silence, until we clear the parking lot, men,” Gray ordered. They obeyed him. Barely. He had no sooner finished the turn onto the main roadway when they broke into cheers and shouts.
“Did you see how they all looked at us, Coach?” Keith shouted.
“They were afraid of us,” said Brian.
“Terrified of us,” said Devon.
“We looked so good,” said Peter.
“You looked like winners,” said Gray, shouting to be heard above their voices. “The first battle is already won, troops. Your opponents are afraid of you. They think that you are better than they are. And they are right.”
The noise was deafening.
“I will have your solemn promises that you will sleep tonight and be at your best for our games tomorrow. No playing in the hallways. No carrying on. It’s a single elimination tournament, so we cannot make one mistake, starting with tonight.”
When he was assured they were all safely tucked in for the night, he knocked upon the door that separated his room from Julie’s. He’d asked for adjoining rooms and was delighted to be so accommodated.
“Gray?” she whispered.
“Little pig, little pig, let me come in.” He laughed low and mischievously as she swung open the door.
“Little pig?” she said, her hand on her hip. He was still chuckling when he pulled her into his arms and dipped her backwards for a Hollywood-style kiss.
“Pig?” she repeated, shrieking in surprise.
“Listen to you squeal!” he said delightedly, and he captured her mouth with his own.
They won the first round of competition without breaking a sweat, but the second game caught them feeling cocky and playing slip-shod. They battled back in extra innings to carry the day.
Gray sent them to their rooms after a firm reprimand then visited Julie in hers. He was quiet when he slipped into bed beside her, his hands reaching for her possessively, his touch tender and warm.
“I love you, Julie Hastings,” he said softly, but she was already asleep in his arms.
The next day they played like the champions they were. They beat the first team 7-0 and the second team 5-1. Julie screamed and cheered until her voice was hoarse. She was dust-covered and exhausted again by day’s end. They ate chicken fingers and French fries on the bench for lunch and pizza from the box on the bench for dinner.
She joined Gray during the room-check/body-count, tossing bags of Pepperidge Farm cookies into each room after everyone was accounted for. They had long devoured all her home-baked goods.
She collapsed into bed barely conscious of Gray’s embrace. He spooned her, nuzzling her neck, holding her close. “You are an incredible man, Gray Walker,” she murmured. He answered her with a soft snore.
She awoke to the alarm. Gray was already up, dressed and in the hallway rousing the team. They hit the pancake house then hit the ball field with coolers and gear and the highest of high hopes.
Their cheering section had grown significantly overnight. Many families had driven into Sioux Falls for the final game and this pleased the boys immensely. Julie spied Rose and Cole in the bleachers and beamed.
A reporter for the local paper was also on hand. One of the player’s moms had snapped pictures of the veterinary fly-by as they had headed out of town, and Rose had made front-page news. For this week’s sequel, the reporter was hoping for a trophy and a trophy shot of Rose with her team.
Gray pulled the boys into a tight huddle. “You’ve got your number one benefactor in the audience,” said Gray. “You’ve got your families too. Plus a reporter who would like to make you front-page news. Are you front-page news?” he asked them. Silence. “Are you front-page news?” he shouted.
“Front-page news!” they repeated “Hoh-hoh-hoh!”
With each line drive, with each base hit, Julie slapped the runner with a high-five and chanted, “Front-page news!” As each man rounded third, Gray called out, “Front-page news.” As each man slid into home, the bleachers exploded with “Front-page news!”
By the end of the ninth inning, they were, indeed, front-page news. The reporter captured the players lifting their trophy high, Rose beaming proudly to one side, Gray with his arm wrapped around Julie’s shoulders on the other, her neck tucked into the crook of his elbow as he wrestled her close.
27
Gray showed up unexpectedly at Julie’s door the weekend after the big win. He awakened her with his persistent knocking, and she opened the kitchen door for him in her pajamas, her hair all tousled by sleep. He toted a bag of groceries.
“I thought I’d make you breakfast,” he said.
She smiled, her eyes fuzzy and unfocused. “I’m not awake yet.”
“Go wake up. Then I’d like to deliver a very special invitation.”
When she returned, freshly scrubbed, she sat at the table and eyeballed him expectantly.
“I’d like for you to come with me to the reservation,” he said. “Next weekend is a Making Relatives ceremony. I want you to attend.” He placed some scrambled eggs and bacon onto her plate and filled her coffee mug.
“What is a Making Relatives ceremony?”
“It’s a ritual that honors our relationship to the Great Spirit. It also acknowledges our relationship to our fellow man, in this case, you, in particular. I’d like to make you a relative of the Sioux.”
She frowned. “You can unilaterally do that? Just make me a Sioux?”
“Not I, no. The council must approve those nominated.”
“You nominated me?”
“Me and Tom Running Deer, and a few others.”
She had lifted her mug to take a sip of coffee, but only got halfway. “Why?” She set her mug back down.
Gray smiled at the look of genuine confusion on her face. “Julie, do you have any idea how your care has impacted the boys on the team?”
She shook her head to the negative.
Gray took a sip of coffee, and nodded toward her plate, waiting for her to pick up her fork before he continued. “Most of those boys were marginal students at best. Every single one of those boys had significant increases in their grade point average during the last half of their school year.”
“Increases? With all the time spent on the field during ball season?”
Gray nodded. “Their grades improved. The confidence they built for themselves on the field filtered through to the rest of their lives.”
“Well, they were certainly walking tall after the welcome dinner at the state finals.” She was quiet a moment. “But that was your doing, not mine.”
“Julie. These young men are Sioux like me. I’m their youth counselor and their coach. I’m supposed to believe in them. You were an outsider. The fact that you believed in them so unconditionally boosted their opinion of themselves tremendously. You committed yourself to the team and they felt that commitment. You never missed a game. And there were some parents who never attended one. You fed them, doctored them, encouraged them and cared for them. With that kind of support, they had to perform. And now that they have tasted what it is like to be winners, well… there’s no going back.”
“Do you know how many college scouts were in the bleachers during divisionals and state finals?” he continued. Julie just looked at him. “Six of our young men are currently being courted by various colleges and universities. We’re talking scholarships, woman!”
Julie broke into a smile. “That’s fantastic! Please, please tell me that Keith is among those being courted?”
Gray nodded, smiling back. “He’s got three universities sending him mugs, knapsacks, and t-shirts with their logos on them.”
She sat back, cl
osed her eyes, and let the joy wash over her. He reached for her hand and locked fingers with hers. “The boys are like mini-celebrities at the reservation and my phone is ringing off the hook with parents calling to sign up their sons for next season.”
She looked at him and beamed.
“Please eat,” he commanded. She huffed at him, but sat forward and speared a forkful of eggs. “But I need to be clear, here,” said Gray. “No one is inviting you to join the Sioux Nation because you helped cheer on a team to victory. You are being asked to join because you gave where you saw a need. That’s what this ceremony is all about – taking care of one another, lending a helping hand, making a difference.”
“I’m very flattered, Gray. Thank you,” she said quietly. “I’m truly honored. But help me to better understand. What is expected of me if I accept this invitation? Are there duties and obligations?”
“In this ceremony, we are committing to you, not the other way around. As part of the Sioux Nation, you will have ‘human resources’. If you ever have a need, we will do our best to answer the shortfall.”
She nodded. “What happens at the ceremony?”
“I will give you a gift. It would be appropriate for you to give me one in return.”
“What are you giving me?” she asked.
“A pair of moccasins.” He looked at her naked feet under the table. “You pad around here without footwear all the time.”
“What would be an appropriate gift for me to give you?”
“The Sioux abide by a steadfast rule. We feed the hungry, clothe the naked and shelter the homeless. Any gift that is symbolic of that spirit would be appropriate.”