Heartbeat Braves

by Pamela Sanderson

  She returned to an earlier slide.

  “As you already know, in our tradition we value our elders. Their experiences are invaluable to our lives.” Her voice came out thin even as the message was clear. “Here in the city it’s tougher to get around. There is no common place to meet. Back home we have senior lunch right in town at the elementary school. I would like to create that here. I am proposing an elder program that would include regular transportation, activities and meals for elders.”

  “Elder daycare?” Lou joked.

  “Exactly,” Rayanne said. Henry caught her eye and gave her an encouraging smile.

  She returned to her slides, setting out her ideas for funding and the sort of support that would be needed.

  “Tommy acquired a bus for the center. How many passengers can it hold?”

  Tommy held up a hand showing five fingers.

  “Five people?”

  “Fifteen,” Tommy clarified.

  “How often would you conduct events?” Arnie asked.

  “Ideally, all the time. We could do the meals during the week and extra activities on the weekend. It wouldn’t have to be anything fancy. And all this could be integrated with youth programs. Right, Tommy?”

  Tommy made a vague gesture. Henry got the idea that where Linda and Rayanne did everything with notes and planning, Tommy went with the shortest path to accomplishing what needed to be done. Tommy just told them what they wanted to hear. This could be his role model.

  “I like the idea,” Arnie said, nodding thoughtfully. “A lot. But as presented, it’s too ambitious for where we’re at right now.”

  “When we get to the new space, we’ll have a big room and a kitchen. It will be like a community center.”

  “We’ll grow into that,” Arnie said. “It’s a big commitment. We’re not ready.”

  Pauline nodded, doing a poor job of hiding a yawn. “We’re not going to be ready for such a demanding program right away.”

  Lou had his own remarks along the same vein. Linda kept her eyes on her notes.

  Rayanne nodded, a stony expression on her face. Henry expected her to interrupt with more data or another anecdote. Instead, she packed up her things and returned to her seat while they were still discussing it.

  Henry excused himself and went outside to get the fire started. Rayanne showed up later while he was threading salmon onto long, hardwood sticks.

  “Done?” he asked.

  “Nope. A few more miles to go. Last break before dinner.”

  “How are you holding up?”

  She offered a tired smile. “I’ll get over it. Where did you get the sticks?”

  “Arnie brought them.” His hands worked easily, keeping the flesh side up and securing the fish with smaller cross sticks.

  “At home we use smaller sticks and cut it more like a salmon steak.” She made the shape of a rectangle with her hands to show him how big.

  “You’ll have to show me sometime. I’m not much of a fisherman, but I can cook salmon in the traditional way. My entire family made sure of that. Don’t tell anyone I told you, but the Indian secret is the butter and lemon, like our ancestors did.”

  Rayanne smiled. “It smells good.”

  Lou came over to the fire pit.

  “Salmon again,” he said. “I was hoping for elk. I’m not one of those fish-eating Ind’ns.”

  “You are today, Uncle,” Henry said, “Or else I can make you another sandwich.”

  “I’ll take the fish,” Lou said.

  “Only in Indian Country does a man complain about salmon,” Henry said.

  “I’m not complaining,” Lou said.

  “You’re going to like this,” Henry said, grinning.

  “How you plan to get them stakes in the ground?” Lou asked, stubbing his toe in the hard dirt.

  “It won’t be easy. Pepe didn’t want me to dig a new pit out where the ground is softer.” He looked around to make sure Pepe wasn’t close by, and then got a shovel from the van. “Don’t look so surprised. I came prepared. You ever been to a get-together where you couldn’t get the stakes in the ground?”

  It took some muscle but he chopped at the ground around the fire pit until he’d loosened enough to get the stakes in. When he set the shovel aside he caught Rayanne staring at him with heat in her eyes.

  He waggled an eyebrow at her. “What are you thinking about?”

  Rayanne stood up straight. “The usual. Budgets, pie charts, funding line items.”

  “Yeah?” Henry said. He worked the sticks into the dirt and angled them toward the fire.

  “Yup. That’s it. I’ll meet you in the kitchen at dinner and help serve.”

  “I’ll be there,” he said, his eyes never leaving her until she disappeared into the house.

  Ester was up. Rayanne worked to keep her attention focused on business. Her mind kept drifting back to the sight of Henry and his manly arms driving that shovel into the ground. She rubbed her eyes and forced herself to concentrate on the presentation.

  They got through two more items before Arnie rubbed his hands together and said, “Let’s eat. We can wrap everything up with dinner.”

  Henry had brought the salmon in from the fire, and cut it into pieces. The rectangles of pale orange flesh were fanned out on a platter.

  Rayanne fixed a plate for Pauline and brought it out to her.

  “I know you’re disappointed,” Pauline said, grabbing Rayanne’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “It will happen. Be patient.”

  “I know,” Rayanne said, unable to express why the urgency. “I’m going to get Lou a plate, then I’ll bring you a soda.”

  But by then Henry was setting a plate in front of Lou and getting instructions for more bread. “Yes, Uncle,” Henry said.

  Back in the kitchen, she and Henry stood side by side, fixing their own plates. “You did great. Thanks for cooking.” She forced a cheerful note into her voice.

  “I like your idea. My mom isn’t an elder, but she would like a community center. She does beadwork, and she says it’s more fun with family around. Everybody visiting and kids everywhere.”

  “That’s my vision too. I hate to think of our elders being lonely.”

  Henry nudged his arm against hers. He lowered his mouth to her ear. “You look good in my shirt.”

  Rayanne didn’t move. Every cell in her body was buzzing, unsure whether to pull away or press into him. He moved his hands to her waist. She let him spin her around to face him. Henry had his mouth on hers but their feet got tangled. While he was regaining his footing, she leaned back and his hand scraped over her breast.

  “Oof, sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” Rayanne said, exhaling into him. Her fingers ran down his chest to his flat belly. His breath caught and he buried his face in the crook of her neck. His lips were warm and soft. They brushed across her skin, making her shudder.

  “I wanted it to be less clumsy,” Henry whispered.

  She slid a finger through a belt loop on either side and pulled him closer. “Clumsy is fine.” She put her head on his shoulder and purred at the back of her throat.

  When she opened her eyes she was staring through a narrow opening into the main room where everyone was eating. Her hands dropped to her side.

  Henry ran his fingers along her spine, his lips trying to work their way to her collarbone.

  “Stop,” Rayanne said.

  Henry’s hands stopped. “Really?”

  “This is a terrible idea.”

  Henry stepped back and took a second to collect himself. “It’s a terrific idea. Sure, the time and place aren’t ideal. Who cares? No one is paying attention.” He drew her close again.

  “What are you guys doing in there?” Arnie bellowed from the other room.

  Rayanne pushed Henry back. “See?”

  Henry handed her a plate of brownies. “Later, then,” he said, his face close so she could feel his breath on her face. That clouded her head for another second before she gra
bbed the plate and carried it out.

  “Dessert,” she said, waving the plate.

  “Have you two eaten dinner yet?” Ester asked.

  Rayanne did not know she was capable of blushing so intensely.

  “We’re working on it,” Henry said, carrying their plates out.

  “Sorry, gang. We gotta wrap this thing up,” Linda said. “Great job, you two.” She came over and put an arm around Rayanne’s shoulder and gave her a squeeze. For a paranoid moment she thought Linda could tell something was up.

  “It was Henry,” Rayanne said. “He’s the one that found this place. And he did the food.”

  “My nephew, the cook,” Arnie said. “Who thought we would see the day? Remember that time you made spaghetti and burned the noodles? Who burns noodles?”

  “Remember who was supposed to be taking care of me and instead was off trying to impress some girls?” Henry said.

  “I don’t remember that,” Arnie said, but his smile suggested differently.

  “That sounds like the Arnie I know,” Linda said. “This is last but definitely not least. Rayanne, you’re on.”

  Rayanne was more confident on this idea. “When we move to the Chief building, we’re going to do an Indian arts festival. We’ll have booths with artists, serve food, and we’ll have a stage with dancers and music. It would be like an open house.”

  “For Indians?” Arnie asked.

  “For everyone,” Rayanne said. “Urban Indians are invisible. What a great way for people to see us and learn what we do. We raise our profile in the community. In the long run, it will help us raise money. Maybe we could develop partnerships with existing programs to help tribal people with housing and education.”

  “That’s a great idea,” Arnie said. “It would improve our brand. Don’t make a face. That’s the lingo. I know Crooked Rock Urban Indian Center isn’t about being a brand. A festival like this would draw attention to what we do. What do you think, Henry?”

  Henry smiled. “It’s a great idea.”

  “Good,” Arnie said. “You’re interested in music. This is the perfect project for you. You’re in charge of this event. Show them what you can do.”

  11

  On Monday, Henry wasn’t sure what was more cringe-worthy, finding himself with an office job, or his uncle handing him Rayanne’s job. A job he had no idea how to do and with people who didn’t want him there. Once again, he had good intentions, and events managed to conspire against him. He would have quit right then, except the need for food and shelter beat out proving something to Arnie. Not to mention avoiding getting shipped out to the rez. He needed time to come up with his own plan.

  Back when they’d been cleaning up the retreat house, Rayanne ignored him other than to fire furious looks his way. Ester had offered a sympathetic shrug when Rayanne was out of the room but didn’t help try to smooth things over. The minute they’d signed off with Polly, Rayanne took off, her car bouncing down the uneven road in a cloud of dust. He found his Beat Braves T-shirt folded up on the driver’s seat of the van.

  He spent all weekend rehearsing his speech for Rayanne, aiming for contrite but not pitiful. They were stuck working together so they’d better make the best of it. He understood the arts festival meant a lot to her. She might be mad now, but he could talk her into a collaboration. He would defer to her. It was her idea. She’d made the plans. She could boss him around. Arnie wouldn’t know the difference and besides, Henry didn’t have the slightest idea how to run an arts festival.

  The more he practiced the conversation, the more confident he became. She would understand. There was no reason to be nervous. For now, he would pretend the whole kissing thing never happened. That perfect, incredible moment when she pulled him against her, like she’d been suffering the same attraction all day. Their bodies fit together with a jolt of recognition, jarring but also sweet and comfortable. He would earn another chance.

  When he arrived, the front room was empty and the center quiet. He went to get a cup of coffee and passed Ester’s office. She leaned back in her chair with her keyboard on her lap. Her typing style bordered on violence. She cleared her throat by way of greeting.

  Henry tried to imagine this as a permanent job. Could he become someone like Arnie? He’d wear a suit and travel from meeting to meeting day after day. He’d have to learn all this goofy vocabulary, like cost sharing and nonfederal entity, not to mention a blur of acronyms. Nothing about it appealed.

  No one had given him a work station, so he returned to Rayanne’s desk with his coffee. The amount of paperwork stacked onto that one surface was almost comical. She kept everything in neat piles with notes stuck on top. The biggest stack said, “Need Money.” Another stack said, “Need Reading.” Two other stacks were labeled “Future Projects” and “Far Future Projects.” He picked up a short pile that said “Elder Support.”

  “I’m going to find you a desk so you don’t have to sit on mine,” Rayanne said. She had on a blue blouse and snug jeans, and as soon as he saw her face he forgot all the things he had prepared to say. Even in the state of subdued fury she took his breath away. The heat in her eyes this morning was not friendly and his heart ached for a look like the one she’d given him the night of the retreat.

  He jumped off her desk, causing his coffee cup to wobble. A few drops splashed over the rim and left a damp brown semicircle on the top paper.

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s just coffee.” She pulled a napkin from her drawer and blotted at the spot with exaggerated patience.

  “What’s elder support?”

  She pulled the papers out of his hand and put them back in line with the other piles. “My special project that got shot down. Remember? Don’t you have your own job to do, or are you only interested in taking over what I’m doing?”

  “I...uh—”

  Rayanne handed him a binder. “This is the work I did. Everything you need to know is in here. Baking muffins. Planning arts festivals. It’s all the same thing.”

  “I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry,” Henry said, his voice low. “You don’t understand everything—”

  Rayanne held up her hand. “I don’t need an explanation. You need a job. Someone got you one. I’ve got plenty of other work to do.”

  “It’s not like that.” Henry lowered his head. “Do you want to talk about...” He gestured meaningfully between them.

  “About?” Her facial expression was pleasantly blank but her eyes dared him to continue.

  That was a definite no.

  “About the festival planning.”

  Rayanne shrugged. “You’re in charge now. You figure it out.” There was no room for negotiation in her voice.

  Henry exhaled in one long audible breath. It was like a canyon had opened up between them since that moment in the kitchen when he could taste the skin on her neck and smell her hair.

  “It says here you have an appointment to visit the site.”

  She nodded. “And now you have an appointment to visit the site. Do you need directions, or can you find it yourself?”

  “I can find it, but I don’t even know what I’m looking for. What’s the purpose of the visit?”

  Rayanne tapped on the notebook and dismissed him. He had no place to sit. No computer. He had a binder filled with lists and notes. He stayed where he was.

  “Would you please join me? I could use your input.”

  “I’m sure you could,” Rayanne said, “but there’s no point in the center paying two people to do the same job.”

  “Be mad at Arnie,” Henry said. He didn’t mind pleading. “He’s the one who made this happen. We all need for this to succeed. Can you please find it in your heart to work with me? At least help me get off to the right start.”

  Rayanne’s glare lost some of its intensity. She threw up her hands in surrender. “Let’s get this over with.”

  In the van, she sat back in her seat, her arms folded across her chest. As he pulled out of the parking lo
t she sat up as if to say something but changed her mind.

  “What’s the quickest route over there?” he asked.

  She shook her head, although clearly she had an opinion.

  Henry headed for the freeway. “Can you tell me about the building?” If she wasn’t going to volunteer information he would coax it out of her. “Why do you call it the Chief?

  “One of the city’s founding fathers was named William Chief. The building is named for him. Not an Indian chief.”

  “Whose idea was it to buy it?”

  “It was something Margie cooked up. The organization has needed a bigger space since its inception. Margie was acquainted with a guy who works for the city, and quizzed him about potential facilities. He suggested it. It’s been two steps forward, three steps back ever since. Supposedly everything was finalized and ready for signature, but the date has been pushed back twice. We’ve offered to lease it until the purchase can be worked out but no word on that either. We’re anxious to get in there. The landlord in our current place has been letting us extend month-to-month as well but he’s hinted he needs to make future plans.”

  “And today’s appointment?”

  “They said a custodian could take me around, so I could get another look at the layout. I have a diagram and I’ve been out before, but I wanted to double-check the power supply. Things like that. Have you even asked yourself what this festival is about?”

  “You said it was about bringing people together to celebrate Indians in the city,” Henry said. “Raise the center’s profile in the community.”

  “I guess you were listening,” Rayanne said.

  “Yes, I was listening. Are you bummed about that?”

  “No. But it’s also about us. Indian people celebrating our own people. Giving artists a chance to be seen.”

  “I get that,” Henry said. “I want this to work for you.”

  Rayanne didn’t say anything. She glared out the window while twisting the ends of her hair. They drove in silence until Henry pulled into the parking lot. There were about a dozen cars in the lot.