Counting Coup, page 32
part #1 of The Benediction of Paul Series
They both stared at the campaign poster for seat belts of a family on an outing with their children, which read, ‘Bring ’em back alive!’
Would that have helped? Anger surged. Too late for that.
Rebecca watched the nurse bouncing inches from the door.
The elevator opened, and she jumped out, muttering, “Where did he go? Oh damn, they are going to fire me.”
Together, Joannicus and Rebecca entered the room where Katie was. A silence enveloped the sound of machines. Rebecca surveyed the lineup, Ambrose, and Todd. Karl stood before them, dressed in surgery scrubs. Todd’s eyes held a mixture of horror and grief. Something was wrong. She glanced over at Katie. Katie’s beautiful face was bruised and swollen. The sight reminded her of Karl. She wished she had some of Grandma Tiama’s salve.
“It is a girl, so tiny, so beautiful. She smiled. She didn’t even cry. Do you think she will find Rosie and Elias? Will they know she belongs with them?”
“Not a problem. Your kids have a deep sense of direction,” Ambrose said, his voice creased with emotion.
Todd’s lips trembled. Rebecca’s eyes fell upon Karl and the pink blanket. There in his hands lay a tiny bronze, silent infant. She had seen them before. They looked small and alien. Rebecca took a breath.
Karl turned to Joannicus. “Will you baptize her?”
Rebecca could not believe what she had heard. She watched Joannicus hesitate and look at her. Was he asking her permission? She wasn’t the parent. This ritual was not hers. Yet she and Karl were baptized. Maybe having more than one entrance to the afterlife wasn’t dreadful.
“Here you go. I have named her Almost Joan. You know, for that saint, Joan of Arc, and for you.”
The color in Joe’s face drained.
“She is so beautiful,” Karl marveled as he handed Joannicus his namesake.
Joe’s arms trembled, and he looked at the ceiling. Rebecca could see his eyes swelling with wetness. She moved to his side. As soon as Karl turned, Joannicus handed Rebecca the cold little bundle in a pink blanket.
Joannicus once again pulled out his vials of oil and holy water, this time not wiping the river’s moisture from his cheeks.
Rebecca tried not to listen to the words he spoke. Instead, she concentrated on Karl’s voice, which was strong as he talked to Ambrose and the sleeping Katie.
He didn’t need her comfort yet, but he would. She must be strong for when he needed her.
That was not how she felt holding her niece. So tiny, so perfect. She wanted to scream and pound the earth.
The conversation took on a surreal tone. Karl talked as if Almost Joan and her sisters would play together next week. She was sure Karl was losing his mind. Her brother had forgiven the man who created this day. Never had she seen him act so stoic. He should be wailing. Yet here he stands, talking as if the world hasn’t crumbled. She pinched herself. The pain registered. Not a dream, just a nightmare.
She wished she was soaring above, swooping in for sips of pain and then touching the rays of the sun like an eagle.
Her eyes met Joe’s wide and frightened stare. His head turned, and she followed his gaze. He was terrified, not of death but of living. She saw and felt his dread. What would become of Karl?
The nurse rushed into the room and grabbed the baby from Rebecca.
“Wait,” Rebecca shouted, but the woman darted away.
“She could have waited. I just wanted…” Rebecca leaned against the wall. Tears flooded her eyes.
The future was taken from her. The whole Apsáalooke Nation was gone in a heartbreaking moment—all our hopes and dreams. Never would this child see the eagle soar, never savor vanilla ice cream and cantaloupe on a summer day, never hear the cricket sing, smell the campfire, or touch the soft fur of a rabbit. Everything that is us was taken and gone.
She swayed and allowed Todd to ease her into a chair.
Joannicus appeared before her, his trembling hand stretched out, a wisp of hair pinched between his fingers.
Their watery eyes met.
Todd took the locket of hair and kneeled, placing his head in Rebecca’s lap. She let her tears drip, mingling with his sorrow as she stroked his brow.
Chapter 35
Orphans
There is no death, only a change of worlds.
Chief Si’ahl (Chief Seattle). 1786-1866. Suquamish and Duwamish leader, ecological protector, visionary, and orator.
Rebecca woke with a start. The events of the last forty-eight hours came rushing back. She rubbed her neck to get the soreness out. Brother Ambrose snored loudly next to her in the waiting room.
She needed to find Karl.
She headed to the nurses’ station to ask about Faith and Katie. The nurse smiled a weak smile and pointed to a room. Rebecca re-braided her hair and ran her palm over the wrinkles in her uniform. She stood in the doorway. The pumps hissed and the dials clicked. The sun laced through the trees from the window. Karl sat between Faith and Katie’s beds. He looked like the crucified Christ, his arms stretched out, holding a hand of each love. His head drooped as if to say, I am defeated.
“Karl, let me take over. You need some rest.”
Karl glanced up and shook his head. “No. I am not leaving them.”
She turned and saw Todd sitting in the corner. He shrugged, stood, and headed to the door, escorting her out of the room. They walked to the end of the hallway. The dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes told her he had not slept.
“Unless you’re going to tranquilize him. There’s no point,” Todd said.
The thought danced by her. She hesitated.
“Where is young black robe?” Rebecca asked.
“In the chapel praying.”
What good was prayer now? Death gulped the air they breathed.
She glanced out the window and watched a lone coyote stroll across the parking lot. She nudged Todd and pointed with her lips. A coyote meant chaos. Well, that was happening. Coyotes mated for life. Rebecca scanned the area, looking for the mate.
“Coyote teaches duality. We are all connected,” Todd whispered.
A cry of agony echoed down the hall. The nurses looked up from their station. Rebecca leaned against the window and dropped to the floor. She gazed up at Todd. Their eyes met as pain floated between them. She knew. He knew.
Faith had died.
Todd ran to the room. She steadied herself, hands printing the glass. She pulled herself up and marched to the room. A nurse followed.
“I will document this,” Rebecca said. The woman did not argue.
Rebecca’s hand trembled as she took the stethoscope and placed it on Faith’s chest. There was no heartbeat.
She placed her hand on Karl’s arm.
“No, no. Faith, do not leave me,” Karl moaned.
He gripped her arm, pleading with her to use her power to restore life. Rebecca knew with certainty that she was helpless to ease his agony.
“There was more to say. She did not meet Almost Joan,” Karl said. Anger tinged his words.
Rebecca swallowed. She had watched Karl chatter yesterday, telling Faith about the accident and Almost Joan. He talked about the other children as if she heard him.
Rebecca didn’t believe that those near death were aware of their surroundings. She was sure their focus was on the next step. Faith had never woken up. She had walked on to be with her babies, trusting that Karl would follow her. Rebecca’s heart grieved for her brother. She glanced up at Todd, horror etching his face. What could she do? Nothing. The word echoed in her mind as her fists tightened.
Karl wiped his nose on the bedsheet and kissed Faith a dozen times, smoothing her hair and caressing her cheek.
“Até,” came a weak voice. Karl rose and turned to Katie’s bedside.
“Baby, I am so sorry. It is just us now,” Karl said, wiping his face of the tears.
“Até, Iná had to take care of Almost Joan. Joanie is a good name. She likes it. Joanie Tea, for Uncle Todd. Elias is so silly.”
Rebecca heard Todd let out a soft exhale. He paused next to his sister, gripping the bed rail.
“Okay, I understand,” Karl murmured. “We are going to miss her.”
“Até, Iná needs me.”
Karl scooped Katie off the bed and into his arms. Buzzers screamed, and Rebecca unplugged them.
“Baby girl, stay with me. I cannot do this without you.”
“You’re not alone. I called Bear. He’ll take care of you,” Katie said, focusing on Karl.
“No, no, no. I do not want him. I want you. Stay. Please stay.”
“He’s here. I have to go, Até.”
Karl climbed onto the bed with Katie cradled in his arms.
The door opened, and Ambrose and Joannicus entered. One smelled like a bear fresh out of his den, the other like Sunday Mass.
A nurse arrived. Rebecca glared at her, and she backed out of the room. What did “time of death” mean? Nothing—just marks on a piece of paper. Rebecca glanced at the clock. The space was quiet except for Karl’s ragged breathing, Ambrose’s sniffling, Todd’s deep breaths, and the shuffling of Joannicus. The bed groaned as Karl rocked.
A swirling force beyond her control had broken their circle. The cyclone of Old Man Wind shattered her family.
She wanted to smudge and drive the heaviness away, bring back the energy before evil encapsulated them all. She stood frozen, witness to the draining of life.
A commotion in the hall pulled her out of herself as she recognized Judith’s voice. She moved, but she was too slow. Judith entered the room. Who had contacted them?
Judith glanced at Karl and Katie and then to the bed that held the body of Faith, and she snorted a laugh. Her floral perfume made Rebecca queasy. She might have been white in her soft-green power suit if it weren’t for her dark eyes, skin, and short hair.
Todd’s face steeled, and his eyes grew hard. Terence, Davy, Tommy, Vincent, and Vicki crowded into the small space.
The darkness loomed. Smudge, Smudge.
Rebecca fingered the bracelet that held powdered herbs as she glanced at her siblings. Tommy towered over both his parents. Davy searched the room for a hiding spot. The twins stood side by side next to Terence. Vincent’s face was etched in compassion, and Vicki beamed with annoyance.
Karl swung his feet to the floor, carrying Katie’s body to Faith. He placed her in the bed as if she were a newborn. The two monks blended into the background.
“This is a fine mess you have gotten yourself into,” Judith said as Karl turned and faced her.
Terence stepped forward and embraced Karl, who seemed riveted to the floor, staring down at Judith.
“We are too late. I’m so sorry, son.”
“Thanks,” Karl mumbled.
Vicki huffed and crossed her arms before exiting. This show was not about her. The room blackened. Rebecca wished the windows opened so that the evil would escape.
Forgive her. She is only fourteen, a voice inside Rebecca said.
“What can we do? Have you thought about burial arrangements?” Terence asked. “I requested a Mass to be said.”
“How will you pay for that? Don’t come begging us for money,” Judith said.
“Judith, dear, we will help if we can.”
“There is nothing we can do. He brought this on himself,” Judith said, turning to her husband. “They are not Catholic. Indians do not have funerals. I will not hang around the Rez for days.”
So she wouldn’t grieve or remember. Rebecca shook her head. An Indian funeral was not like a Catholic service. But there was a gathering, a giveaway, a feast, and family and friends surrounded one. It lasted for days. Her forgiveness had run dry.
“What the hell,” Rebecca growled. “What are you doing here? You never liked Faith. Besides grandmother bragging rights, you didn’t have time for the children.”
“I wasn’t welcome. And I don’t want to linger around the campfire telling tales,” Judith said.
Is that what you call Indian ceremonies--campfire gatherings? Had all her Native heritage been drained? Rebecca recognized the hatred that Karl lived with. And worse for having blue eyes, which spoke of white influence. But Karl looked like Endow. Nobody could accuse her of infidelity.
Judith pointed a finger at Karl. “Why weren’t you with them?”
There was a sharp intake of breath from Terence and Todd. Rebecca could not believe the question. Ambrose rumbled low, like a wolf in the corner.
“I would have died too,” Karl said. A sardonic smile lit his face.
“Yes, perhaps so. And yet here you are. She wouldn’t have been out if you were home. This is your doing.”
“Shut up, Ihkaa,” Rebecca snarled, breaking the rule of speaking Crow.
“Whoa, Rebecca,” Terence said. “Your mother isn’t blaming anyone.”
The mud in his ears must be thick. She just said it was Karl’s fault. Mitchell Davis caused the accident. Alcohol was the real culprit. Pinning this to someone was as useless as saying God has a plan. Rebecca gritted her teeth.
Karl moved around his parents and climbed into the vacant bed.
“Here is your chance, Ihkaa. Send me away. I want to be with my family, complete my circle.”
If Judith had moved one muscle, Rebecca would have tackled the five-foot woman to the ground. Rebecca sighed, glancing at Karl. Would he follow Faith? That would be just like him to do something impulsive. They came so far together that she would be alone.
“You should have died years ago,” Judith sneered, shooting a scathing look at Rebecca.
Rebecca felt her skin flush. Was it anger or shame? She glanced at Todd, standing like a cedar absorbing the storm.
The Mackenzie clan stood frozen, watching Judith. Rebecca pushed her way toward the bed. She would be a shield between her mother and brother if nothing else.
“Mother, you do not accept God. I am not sure you believe in anything,” Karl said, rising on one elbow. “The wind blows loudly through your soul.”
“Neither do you. And this is your punishment.”
“My punishment for what? Not dying in the hospital twenty-five years ago?” Karl’s voice was loud and harsh.
Rebecca shuddered. He had spoken what they both knew, what they all held in secret.
Ambrose cleared his throat. “Enough of this nonsense. We can’t second-guess the mind of God. Prayer would be more proper than finger-pointing. We are all in shock. Grief soaks us like rain. May we anoint them?”
“She does not believe,” Karl said.
“But we do,” Ambrose said, nodding to Joannicus.
“Then I see no harm. As Katie said, we may as well try all the ways we know to unite them. Almost Joan needs her Iná.”
Judith clicked her tongue and hissed, “Sacrilege.”
The woman was jealous. Karl had successfully balanced both worlds, and she could not stand the one she was born into and barely fit in the one she desired.
The smell of holy oils filled the room, and silently, Joannicus marked Katie’s forehead.
Rebecca noticed Todd had already cut off part of Faith and Katie’s braid. There was nothing left to do. Judith needed to leave.
“Ihkaa, let’s go,” Rebecca said, taking the opening in the tension Ambrose had provided. And silently thanking him for once again stepping into the storm of events.
Judith didn’t move.
“I don’t take orders from you.”
“Ihkaa, enough. Go home.”
Judith glared at Rebecca. Hurt registered.
Why couldn’t she be nice?
She had wanted a mother. She had needed a mother. Judith was not that woman. She was toxic. Could she not see the grief that drenched this man, her son?
“I warned you that nothing good would come. You didn’t heed my words. Now you see what your interference has created. Sometimes things should be left alone,” Judith said, trembling slightly as Terence moved toward her.
“I did the right thing. Can’t you be kind for once? He has done nothing to you. Maybe you are right. You should just forget he ever existed. You bring evil. You’ve been nothing but a shadow at the entrance to our life. The sun is gone. You’re no longer needed. When it returns, do not darken our doorstep.”
A hand came up and slapped Rebecca’s right cheek.
“You ungrateful child.”
“You unloving woman,” Rebecca said, rubbing her face as her left hand fisted, and she stepped toward Judith. “You are without relatives,” Rebecca hissed.
This was the worst possible insult to a Crow.
Karl gasped and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, but Todd was quicker. He wrapped his powerful arms around Rebecca.
She would not have hurt her—she would have just pushed her out of the room.
Terence grabbed his wife and exited the space. The boys followed them out.
The youngest brother, Vincent, paused at the door.
“This is so messed up. I’m sorry. Here,” Vincent said as he handed Rebecca a smudging stick of lavender and cedar before turning and walking out. Rebecca’s eyes teared up. Vincent was respecting the Native ways. Even though his exposure was limited, he had tried to be helpful. She had disowned Judith and feared that would extend to her half siblings.
A nurse and security guard rushed into the room.
“The only people allowed here are immediate family,” the nurse’s voice quaked. The security guard looked at the three Indians, Ambrose, and Joannicus.
“This is it. My sister and brother,” Karl said, invoking the right of an Apsáalooke with no relatives to ask someone to be his clan. Only Todd was Lakota, not Apsáalooke. Todd had lost everyone, and Karl was adopting him, including him in their circle.
Where did that compassion come from?
The rites and rituals were blending. She needed to smudge. She wished to clear the room of harmful things and prevent Karl from cutting or, even worse, ending his life. They faced death, and gaining a brother did not ease the pain. She was no longer ‘auntie mom.’ She had no mother or father—only Karl and now Todd. The weight of loss was too heavy, and Rebecca’s knees buckled as the muscular arms of Todd held her.
