“They are not in danger,” Karl retorted, regretting the petulance in his voice. He took a breath. “Judith is their mother. She will continue in that role. It will, in fact, be easier on my siblings with me gone.”

  Judith hated only him. Terence’s punishments were reserved for Karl. With his absence, the shadow of violence retreated. A trickle of fear rose. What if that was not true?

  “Liar,” taunted the wasp as he buzzed louder. Karl reflected on the wasp. His presence was a reminder that merely thinking about his dreams would not make them a reality. Resistance to change was self-sabotage. Was the wasp here for him, or Father Lucian?

  “I did not make this problem of Terence and Judith. But right now, I can change it. My brothers and sister will not need to live in fear and lies. You can help me break the circle of silence.” Karl watched the priest grimace.

  “I pray you are right.”

  “If I am wrong, will you step in and stop it?” The remark was cruel, but the man needed to see his part.

  With a paper cup in hand, Karl placed it over the wasp. The protesting buzz echoed in the cup. Then he grabbed a sheet of paper off the desk, sliding it under the cup until the wasp was trapped.

  “When did you make your lifelong commitment? You were young, eighteen, I am almost that. I am aware of what I am doing. Age does not dictate love.”

  Karl placed the cup outside the window and removed the paper. The stubborn wasp crawled out onto his hand instead of flying away. He was about to be stung for freeing the insect.

  “You don’t know what love is,” Lucian said, sitting at his desk.

  His patience was dripping both for the wasp and the conversation.

  “I know what it is not. This is not about love or me. This is about your church and rules.” Karl wiggled his finger, and the wasp flew off. “I want to embrace your beliefs.”

  “Then don’t argue with me about this,” Lucian said.

  “Why the hell not? You preach so many good things, and you called me like an eagle’s call. I came and I listened. I want more.”

  “You can have more,” Lucian said.

  “At what price? My life? Eventually, I will break. Terence will get mad, and one day I will hit back. My staying teaches my siblings that this violence is love. I do not want to teach that. I must walk out.”

  “You have so much potential. Don’t throw it all away.”

  Then it hit Karl. This man’s kindness had a price. Lucian had plans for him. Karl gripped the door handle and let his head fall to his chest. He heaved a sigh, and looked up at the priest in his black robe.

  “You were hoping I would become a monk,” Karl said.

  Lucian’s hands were folded tightly.

  “God does the calling, not me.”

  “You are disappointed, I understand, but a preacher does not need to be ordained. I can be a lay minister or a deacon.”

  Karl realized that was not good enough.

  “Will you at least attend the ceremony?”

  “I cannot.” Lucian’s hands unclasped, and he smoothed the papers on his desk. The words stung, and Karl turned the knob.

  “I am disappointed that you put the church above a person. This is not the Jesus you taught me about. You are making a mistake. You will live to regret this. I hope you can live with that,” Karl said.

  Karl walked out of Father Lucian’s office. Head down, and shoulders slumped. He leaned against the brick of the building and sank to his knees. He would miss the music, the rituals, and the feeling of community. Tears escaped. He would miss Father Lucian, his sermons, and his confessional advice. He wondered if he would ever set foot in the church again. If he did, would the priest deny him communion? Confession?

  A shadow cooled the space where he squatted.

  Karl looked up to see Rebecca.

  He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Why did it matter? He wasn’t totally into Catholicism. He still had his Apsáalooke beliefs. Why couldn’t he embrace both?

  “I’m sorry.”

  “What? No ‘I told you so’?” Karl quipped as he stood up.

  “No. I know you wanted this. I’m sorry it won’t happen.”

  “I am not sorry. I finally understand. I am done with these people.”

  Rebecca pinched off a spent flower.

  Life as an adult is full of disappointments and heartbreak. The sooner he learned, the stronger he would be.

  “You are hurting, and you don’t mean it. They have given you a lot. Don’t write them off.”

  “He—they are always talking about my soul. Yet he is letting me dwell with sin. He will not allow me the next sacrament. I am forced to marry outside the church, and no longer get to have their sacraments. That is all buffalo dung. He will not come to the ceremony. He really wanted me to skip this one and go to Holy Orders. Be a monk.” Karl shook his head, and his braids swayed from side to side.

  Rebecca placed her hands on her hips. “You’re smart enough, and you know more than most about Catholicism. You could have it if you wanted it.”

  “Be serious. I would drive them crazy, and many would leave.”

  “You would at least test their conviction,” Rebecca said, looking around. “Where is your faith?”

  Karl smiled at the joke. “She went with Marie to the convent.”

  He watched her face open in surprise. Then she punched his arm. He grinned.

  “You’re right. You would cause them to reconsider their vocations.”

  Karl laughed. At least he knew his gift.

  Chapter 21

  Better All the Time

  Let us put our minds together and see what kind of life we can make for our children.

  Tatanka Iyotanka (Sitting Bull). 1831-1890. Hunkpapa Lakota, holy man, and leader.

  Spring was coming. Life would get better.

  Karl looked at the Pendleton blanket, the one they stood wrapped in the day they married. Fours stripes of black, red, yellow, and green were on a white blanket made of wool. Simple yet warm. He had envisioned the blanket on a four-post bed, he and Faith snuggled together during the icy Montana winters. Today, nestled deep in the folds was Katie. Her dark eyelashes rested on her chubby cheeks, and her mouth worked on the invisible nipple. His stomach growled. He rose, making his way across the rectangular room to the kitchen. He opened the cabinet and took out the dried milk and mashed potatoes, filled the bottle with water, and placed it in a pot on the stove to warm. Then he refilled the coffeepot with water to brew a second pot of coffee using this morning’s grounds.

  Spring was coming. Life would get better.

  The diapers, soaking in the sink, shouted he had once again been daydreaming. You have wasted the sun’s gift. He squeezed the water out and hung the damp cloths on the rope in front of the window. He laid sheets of newspaper on the floor beneath the white flags of defeat.

  His life was dipped in white, from diapers and formula to snowy days.

  Spring was coming. Life would get better.

  He fished the bottle out of the pot and set it on the counter to cool, making the water turn white with the powdered milk. He mixed the dried mashed potatoes and used up the last of the cheese to add flavor. While Faith had worked, he had finished high school, thanks to the nuns who watched Katie while he took his exams. That was almost six months ago. Now, he spent his days counting bottles, charting ounces, and examining the contents of diapers.

  Karl thought things would get better. He could get a part-time job, but who would watch Katie?

  The joy of his daughter and his wife sustained him most days. The growl in his stomach reminded him he needed more than hope to live on. An infant was labor intensive. The constant holding, burping, and feeding. He remembered holding Katie and his textbook, pacing the hall outside so Faith could sleep, his toes frozen, but Katie bundled warm.

  Karl sliced the cheese into thin strips.

  Katie is a wonderful baby. That is what Rebecca had told him when he’d asked her how she’d survived his infancy.

  His siblings weren’t like Katie. She rarely cried. He recalled holding her in his trembling hands, breathing her exhale. He was in love.

  He stirred the mashed potatoes, poured himself a cup of coffee, and tested Katie’s bottle. He turned around. Katie sat in the middle of the room, patiently waiting for him.

  “Did you have a good nap? What did you dream?” Karl asked as he moved to the table and chairs. She crawled to him, grabbing his pant leg to stand. He scooped her up, kissed her cheeks, and placed her on the stack of schoolbooks, tying her with the arms of a sweatshirt to the chair. He scooted her to the table, placing a bowl in front of her. Chubby fingers scooped the potatoes. Her fine motor skills were impressive. Karl nibbled a slice of cheese as Katie licked her fingers.

  “Tomorrow is Mommy’s day off, and we can go shopping for some food. What would you like to buy? I am leaning toward steak, fresh green anything, and chocolate cake.” They would really have fried bologna, carrots with tops, and half a chocolate bar.

  The diapers dripped randomly on the paper.

  “My dear, it is now time to do the clean-up dance,” Karl said, wiping Katie’s face and fingers. He cleaned. Katie tried to crawl after him. A fifteen-minute activity, but he made it into a thirty-minute workout with dance and chatter. Katie giggled and waved as he ironed Faith’s uniforms and the damp diapers dry. Not much cleaning was needed in a studio apartment with a single bathroom and a kitchen on one wall.

  After a game of chase and fetch, where Katie rolled a paper ball and Karl ran after it, he picked her up and wrapped her snugly with two blankets, leaving her arms free to move before placing her into a cradleboard. At bedtime, he would have tucked her arms inside. He wove the straps left to right because she was a girl. The willow cradleboard had been Faith’s. The shade from Faith’s cradleboard had a series of X’s on the front. Katie’s had beadwork of a Prairie Rose for the new shade designed by Faith and Rebecca. Each child gets a shade for their own dreams and thoughts. As she got older, they would hang something from it to keep her entertained. They bundled up and walked the parking lot, counting cars and looking for the last acorns and walnuts. Katie fussed, so Karl came back to the apartment. The air felt colder inside than out. He opened the drapes on the one window to let the sun in, hoping to heat the space.

  He changed her diaper and rubbed her damp hair dry as they waited for the bottle to heat. They then snuggled on the mattress in the corner. Since she was now mobile—he had to lie down with her. That wasn’t bad. It just meant he had to wait until she fell asleep to do anything else.

  Sometimes he felt like he was living his life through Katie, her sleepy, playful, cranky, feeding times. She drank from her bottle, her warm body across his chest, and her eyes slowly closed. He sighed and eased her onto the mattress. Her eye fluttered open, and he hummed softly, hoping she would not wake and fuss.

  Faith was working hard. He had nothing to complain about.

  In a month, his classmates would be graduating. He should have waited, as he was missing the parties and bittersweet goodbyes. He knew many had plans for college or jobs in a family business. He could have a job. If he wanted to be an accountant, Terence would welcome him and the help. He knew the business and recalled how well they worked together.

  This was not working for him. Lucian had been right. He wished he could call and tell him.

  Saint Alberic’s Abbey had put a different monk in charge of Saint George’s parish, and the nuns were moving back to Texas, being replaced by the laity. He had heard that Father Lucian was ill.

  He wondered if Marie would miss them. He had not attended Christmas or Easter dinner. His world had become tiny.

  He picked up a novel to reread. Perhaps he’d make a trip to the library tomorrow if the weather held. Lying back on the mattress, he stared at the cracks in the ceiling.

  He was a prisoner. Who would watch Katie with the nuns gone? Rebecca? Todd? Not likely.

  The door to the apartment opened, and Karl jumped.

  “Ah ha, I caught you sleeping with another woman,” Faith said. She flipped the one light in the apartment.

  “Yes, guilty as charged, but do not worry, this one is the silent kind. She will not speak,” Karl said as Katie stretched and grunted next to him. “Your turn to cuddle. I will get dinner started.”

  “Nope, Rebecca sent me home with food. She claims she cooked too much, and is tired of eating cheese and canned meat.”

  “Rebecca is a horrible liar, but lucky us,” Karl said, peering into the sack which contained fresh fruit, fried chicken, and fry bread.

  “Your sister’s very kind and generous.”

  “She does too much for us.”

  “She’s doing what she believes is necessary.”

  “You always see the good in people.”

  “I would rather be surrounded by friends than enemies,” Faith said, snuggling Katie.

  They placed a few candles on the table and ate, relishing the fresh apples for dessert. As night fell, the room became colder, and they cuddled on the mattress, snuggled in the blankets, with Katie between them.

  “We should move to a teepee. A teepee would be warmer,” Karl said. “If we moved to the Rez, we would have commodities.”

  Faith frowned and shook her head. “Canned meat, lard, cheese, corn syrup for flavor. Not a healthy diet. Rebecca is sure the government is trying to kill us with those fatty and sugar-filled commodities.”

  “I bet she thinks we will all have the sugars,” Karl said. Rebecca is right, but he yearned to feel full after eating. He would take food over hunger.

  “We’re lucky. Things will get better,” Faith said.

  “That is what Katie said.”

  “Really? She spoke?”

  “She laughed when I told her I needed to get a life,” Karl said.

  “She’s your life. For a while longer. I’m worried she’s so quiet,” Faith said, kissing the girl’s cheeks and placing the sleeping child into her cradleboard.

  “I sometimes think she is an old woman and one day she will open her mouth and demand an explanation.”

  “You’re a good father,” Faith said, kissing him.

  “But what should I do next? I cannot do this all our lives.”

  Faith giggled as she leaned the cradleboard in the corner beside the mattress.

  “What is so funny?”

  “You. Clan mothers believe that raising the next generation is the highest calling.”

  “I am not complaining,” Karl said, noticing the exhaustion that lingered about his wife.

  “Yes, you are. I don’t blame you. It is arduous work and dull. Things will get better.”

  “We need money. I need to get a job. I really want to go to college. Maybe when Katie is in school.”

  A loud knock on the door caused them to jump. They exchanged glances in the dim light. Karl rose and walked the ten steps to the door. Faith reached for Katie, who squeaked a protest at being moved.

  As he opened the door, he gasped. Before him was Terence. He had not seen his stepfather in over a year.

  “I would like to see my granddaughter since you have neglected to bring her to me.”

  Karl grimaced. Guilty. He had been remiss.

  “I figured you wanted nothing to do with us. You did not attend the wedding or acknowledge her birth,” Karl said, knowing his words were blunt and harsh.

  “The church did not sanction your marriage. Perhaps you’ll fix that someday, but the birth of this child is not her sin. She’s our first grandchild. It deeply saddened your mother when she wasn’t present for the ceremonies. You could’ve invited her to one ritual.”

  Rebecca had been there for the placenta, umbilical, and birthing ceremonies. She and Tiama were there for the transfer and naming of character. Karl wondered if Father Lucian would baptize Katie, even if they weren’t married in the church. That might appease Terence. Judith wasn’t invited because they feared her spirit would taint the child. A prick of guilt needled Karl, even though shunning had been the right choice.

  “Was not for me to decide. Lakota ceremonies. Mother is Crow,” Karl mumbled. Poor excuse. Faith cleared her throat. Karl pushed his anger and anxiety away. Now was the time for hospitality.

  “Welcome. Come in and meet Katie,” Karl said, stepping aside. He glanced into the hallway before closing the door. It was empty. Judith had not come. The naked bulb shone in the center of the space as he switched on the light. Terence ducked under the rope that held drying diapers.

  Faith unlaced Katie, who was struggling to see the new sound. Terence smiled as Katie reached for her grandfather. Karl watched in amazement. If Katie said basaaksaake, grandfather in Apsáalooke, it would convince Karl that his daughter walked between the worlds and carried messages from the ancestors.

  Faith moved to the kitchen and put the kettle on, elbowing Karl to the action of hospitality, food, and drink. Karl opened the cupboard and took out a box of crackers. Faith gathered the last of the peanut butter and apple.

  “Did you see that?” Karl whispered to Faith.

  “Yes. She is seeking something,” Faith said.

  A shiver ran through him. He had never understood his stepfather. Was he loved, or was he hated? Judith was so much easier to know. She reviled him from birth, and that had never changed.

  Katie sat contently in the arms of Terence. Karl stood next to the window and nibbled on a cracker as Faith poured steaming tea into the glass jars. Terence and Faith sat at the little table.

  “You didn’t come for Christmas,” Terence said.

  “I was not invited,” Karl said.

  “Since when do you need an invitation to come home?”

  Karl looked at Faith. Family and home were the foundations of life. Katie pulled off the woolen cap she was wearing, and the static sparked in the air as her black hair stood up.

  “She’s beautiful,” Terence said with a chuckle.

  Katie begged for a cracker, and Terence looked to Faith for permission.

  “She’s small for six months, but healthy,” Terence said, looking at Karl.

 

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