Heartbeat Braves

by Pamela Sanderson

  “What about the elder services?”

  “What about them?” Linda said. “Are you listening to what I’m talking about here?”

  Everything about this was wrong. They should be celebrating right now. Rayanne head hurt, measuring everything they’d done right and wondering how it could be scrubbed away so easily.

  “Doesn’t it help the city when we help marginalized people?” Rayanne’s voice came out as a whisper.

  Linda came over to give her a hug. “We’re all on the same team. Keep doing what you can do now. We’ll make some decisions in the next few days. I need you to hold it together.”

  “I am together,” Rayanne said. Tommy slouched back in his chair, staring at a point on the ceiling. Ester continued her pacing, like she might be getting closer to her destination. Henry’s face was blank. He hadn’t been around long enough to understand all they had lost.

  37

  Bad news or not, people were depending on a meal delivery and Henry wasn’t going to let them down. Rayanne alternated between rage and despair, one moment pacing the room, listing off all the indignities the center had suffered, the next sinking back into the couch in defeat.

  “We got hungry elders out there,” Henry said. He stuck a finger in the barbecue sauce and tasted it. He added a couple more shakes of hot sauce and whisked it into the pan. “You wanted to see what I could come up with and this is it.” He unpacked the various-sized containers and wrapping materials and spread them out on the counter.

  She wandered over to watch him work. “How did you manage to make something that smells so good in my poorly stocked kitchen?” She used a spoon to taste it. “Wow. Tastes amazing.”

  “Secret family recipe,” he said.

  “Wasco Ind’n traditional?”

  Henry laughed. “Got it from a friend. I can show you how to make it, if you want.”

  “Why would I? I’ve got you to make it.”

  Henry used a couple of forks to shred the meat from an elk roast that he’d slow-cooked.

  “You want to help me assemble these?”

  Rayanne unpacked the buns into the containers. Henry spread a small amount of sauce over the bottom half and then piled on the meat.

  “I don’t want the bread to get soggy during transportation so we’re going to give them a slug of sauce on the side.”

  Rayanne portioned sauce into small plastic containers. Her movements had become more relaxed as they worked.

  “Do you want to deal with the sides?” he asked.

  Rayanne went to the refrigerator and brought out a giant bowl. “I hope people like sweet-potato salad. And by people I mean us too. We’ll be eating this until the end of time.”

  “People who get meal deliveries aren’t going to complain,” Henry said. “But don’t be stingy with the portions.”

  “I won’t. We still need to make the other one.” She rummaged through a kitchen drawer until she found a strainer. She opened a can of garbanzo beans and dumped them in and rinsed them under the sink. “They all complain about three bean salad. I don’t know why.”

  “I like it,” Henry said.

  “Everyone likes it except these guys.”

  “You need to get past the grumpy.” Henry gave her a companionable nudge and kissed her shoulder. He couldn’t touch her with his hands all gunky with sauce.

  “I am past grumpy. This isn’t grumpy, this is grumpy that surrendered because there is no incentive to be grumpy.” She sighed. “How am I going to tell my grandpa about this? He’s going to be so disappointed.”

  “He’s Indian. Isn’t he used to disappointment?”

  Rayanne made a sound between a sob and a laugh. She wiped the back of her hand across her face. “Yeah. But I don’t want to be the one to disappoint him. I forgot to tell you, some of his drum circle friends are going to be there tonight. We’re supposed to bring two more dinners.”

  Henry bit back a comment about maybe mentioning the extra meals earlier so he could be prepared. He reduced the sandwich meat on each sandwich. He could make it go around.

  “We don’t know for sure that it’s doom yet.” Henry pushed back the thought that if he lost the job, he wouldn’t be able to get an apartment. No one would rent to an unemployed person. He couldn’t make himself think about what would happen if he couldn’t get an apartment. “There’s a chance the board will keep the center going.”

  “I guess.”

  “But if we do prepare for the worst case, I haven’t done a résumé since I got laid off. Could you help me?”

  “Ugh, résumés. Yeah, I can help you. Especially if you want to promote your skills working with tribal organizations.”

  “Is that what you want me to do, or is that what résumé you’re good at writing?”

  This time Rayanne bumped into him. “The second one. Grandpa informed me that I can’t go around trying to fix everyone. What kind of job do you want?”

  “I don’t know. But I want to prepare for the worst. Can we talk about something else?” Henry washed his hands, then grabbed a spoon to add the salads to the containers.

  “What do you think of a food cart with delivery service to elders?” Rayanne closed up the containers and packed them into the padded bags.

  “I like doing this,” Henry said. “But I think I would hate it as a full-time job. Working long hours and being around food every day would get old fast.”

  “Yeah. Lots of jobs sound fun until you think about doing it day after day.”

  Rayanne brought out a plate of cookies and began counting out four and putting them into plastic bags. “New subject. How would you describe your cuddle style?”

  The question startled him into laughter. “Do I have a cuddle style? I use my arms and squeeze.”

  “That’s more like a hugging style,” Rayanne said.

  “Cuddling and hugging are two different things?”

  “Sure. Cuddling is more like one extended hug, or a bunch of connected hugs.”

  “Is that definition in the dictionary?”

  “Be serious,” Rayanne said, pretending not to smile. “I’m asking to describe manner and method. Like my cuddle style is intense. I like cuddling in the morning, in front of the TV, after I’ve had a hard day. I like to cuddle even if sex isn’t involved.”

  “So you want to cuddle tonight but you don’t want sex?”

  “No. I want sex. Stick with the program. The question concerns your cuddle style. With some guys the minute you touch them they’re yanking your pants off. Or you finish fooling around and they put one arm around you while they check their phone. Which are you?”

  Henry couldn’t hide his amusement. “My cuddle style rates as less than intense. But at the same time it is conducted with serious skill and commitment. I enjoy cuddling before and after naked time, but also in front of the TV or a winter afternoon or when life is being wretched and you need someone to hang on to.”

  “Good answer,” Rayanne said. “My high school boyfriend wasn’t a big cuddler. He was, like, didn’t we just hug yesterday? You’re more fun to be with.”

  “Than your high school boyfriend? I should hope so.” Henry finished rinsing the last of the dishes in the sink. He dried his hands on the back of Rayanne’s pants and kissed her on the cheek. “The faster we get this done, the faster we get back.”

  The ring of laughter carried all the way down the stairs. Rayanne smiled when she knocked on the door. Grandpa flung it open and welcomed them in. If an apartment was like a balloon, this one was close to bursting. Rayanne wished she’d brought extra chairs. The curtain to Grandpa’s bedroom was closed and there was a single coffee cup next to the sink. He’d laid out silverware. As usual, a giant bottle of flat soda was out on the kitchen table. Maybe he let them go flat intentionally.

  “I thought you’d never show up,” Grandpa said. “We’re starving.”

  “We saved the best for last,” Rayanne said.

  “Come say hello to my friends,” Grandpa said. “You
remember Big Stan,” he said, referring to the taller man with two braids and chiseled cheek bones you would expect on a Plains Indian. “And this is Little Stan.”

  “Hello, Stan,” Rayanne said and hugged the short man. He carried all his weight around the middle and had two skinny legs.

  “We’re brothers,” Little Stan said.

  Henry looked from one to the other, not sure what to think. “Your parents named you both Stan?”

  That made everyone crack up.

  “And this is the new guy, Knox.” Knox had a weathered face and oversized glasses that didn’t sit on his face quite right.

  “I been wondering why Gus don’t bring his family around more often,” Knox said. He took her hand and held on to it.

  “This is Rayanne’s friend Henry,” Grandpa said. “He’s from out Warm Springs.”

  “Oh,” the others said in unison. “Who’s your family?”

  “Jackson,” Henry said. “Arnie’s my uncle.”

  They nodded together but Grandpa said, “They don’t know who he is. They like to ask questions.”

  “He’s a councilman out there,” Henry added. “It’s nice to meet you all.”

  Rayanne got everyone situated and passed out the food. They were one container short. “Sorry,” she mouthed at Henry. He waved the comment away. “We can split it,” he mouthed back.

  “So Knox. Is that, like, a life of hard knocks? Or like the fort?” Henry asked.

  “Fort,” he said. “But I don’t know why. My brother was Buster. My sister is Flinsy.”

  “Flinsy?” Henry said.

  “Yeah, she came out all right in spite of it. My people come from up Alaska. Tlingit. Haven’t been up there in years. Miss it, but I don’t like to travel so much anymore.”

  “One of our board members, Pauline, is Tlingit,” Rayanne said.

  “She pretty?”

  “Her husband thinks so,” Rayanne said.

  Knox chuckled. “I guess I’d better leave her be, then.”

  “We wanted to ask your help,” Gus said. “We need to break into Earl’s house.”

  “This evening is going to be more fun than I thought,” Henry said, rubbing his hands together. “Should we use my van?”

  “Don’t encourage them,” Rayanne said.

  “Bet you didn’t know we were part-time criminals,” Big Stan said, polishing off his sandwich. “This food is delicious.”

  “Glad you like it. But give Henry credit for this menu,” Rayanne said. “Why do you need to go to Earl’s?”

  “We need the drum. We’re going to sing at the rehab center,” Gus said. Rayanne handed him another napkin.

  “What does the rehab center have to say about that?” Rayanne asked.

  “Nothing. What are they going to do? Arrest us?” Little Stan asked.

  “No one is getting arrested,” Rayanne said.

  “If Earl wants his drum, I see no reason not to bring it to him,” Henry said, his eyes bright.

  “I can’t stop you,” Rayanne said. She imagined the creaky elders trying to sneak around carrying a big drum. There was a reason they waited for Henry.

  The conversation moved on to their respective homelands. Big Stan grew up in Oklahoma. Little Stan grew up around Puget Sound. Knox had more stories about people with funny names. Rayanne loved the way everyone had a unique story about where they came from but they all had so much in common.

  They ate every bite of food that Rayanne and Henry brought and asked to be included in future deliveries. By the end of the night, Rayanne’s stomach hurt from laughing and her heart hurt because she was afraid the center might fail and what if they couldn’t save it?

  38

  Rayanne typed a search string into her computer and scanned through the results. There was a multicultural center near downtown that had a ballroom and onsite parking. A hotel near the airport had a convention space that might work for them. She had a contact at the local community college. Perhaps there was an event center on campus that would work for them.

  “What are you doing?” Henry sat down next to her.

  “Looking for alternatives. We don’t need a huge place, but bigger than here. Linda was addled in the head. We can barely work in this space much less host an event here. If we can find a place with a stage and enough room for a few booths, we could pull it off. Too bad Milk Creek Farm is so far out there, otherwise that place would be perfect. I’m wondering if—”

  “I think Linda intends to cancel.”

  “She thinks it would be easier than changing to a different location. If we find the right place—”

  “I thought you planned this to celebrate the opening of the Chief building.”

  He was right but she didn’t want to say it out loud. Instead, she said, “I did. But it’s become more than that. There’s got to be a way. It’s not ideal but we wouldn’t have to disappoint anyone.”

  “We don’t even know if we have a job going into the future.”

  “A couple weeks ago you didn’t even want this job. Don’t help. I don’t care.” She shouldn’t be acting like this. But it was no longer disappointment, it was panic. Their time together with those elders was exactly the kind of family and community she wanted to bring together. Something would be lost if she couldn’t keep things going. She hit a few keys on her keyboard and pointed to the screen.

  “The old history museum has an event space.” Even as she said the words she sensed how hopeless it was. They didn’t have time, and even less money.

  “I know how you feel about this,” Henry said.

  “I’m not ready to give up.” She tapped the down arrow even though she could see how absurd it was, thinking they could move an event like that at the last minute. An event she’d designed to fit in the space they were not going to get.

  “For so long I’ve been picturing this thing coming together. My grandpa and Margie and all these people we’ve been talking to. I want all the elders to be honored together.”

  Henry picked up her hands and kissed them. “Maybe you’re asking the right questions but the festival is the wrong answer.”

  “I have no idea what that means,” Rayanne said.

  “I have an idea.”

  She didn’t know what Henry’s plan was, but she resisted.

  “I’m not in the mood to go out,” she said. She meant it too. “We were gone last night. Can’t we stay home for one night?”

  “You’ll like this,” he said.

  “Whatever it is, I don’t want to stay long,” she said as he herded her out to the van.

  “We won’t.”

  He drove out to an industrial area with chain-link fence surrounding heavy equipment and pallets of unidentifiable materials. They came to a series of single-story buildings constructed like a row of garages with identical blue doors. He pulled up to a gate and punched in a security code. The big metal door creaked open.

  “You’re taking me to a self-storage place?”

  “Isn’t it romantic?” Henry said.

  “This is not what I was expecting. If I didn’t know better, I would be worried.”

  Henry gave her his most glorious smile. “You shouldn’t be worried.”

  The van traveled down a long alley. Light poured from an open door with a single car parked out front. She expected to see stacks of boxes or furniture. Instead, the Beat Braves had their gear set up. Their tribal flags hung across the walls. A carpet remnant covered half of the concrete floor.

  “You made it,” Jack said. “Welcome to our secret clubhouse.”

  “What are you doing here?” Rayanne asked.

  “This is where we practice,” Cody said. “White folks frown at loud Indians.”

  “Everybody frowns at loud everybody,” Sam said. “You gotta give white people a pass on that one.”

  “Every day,” Cody said. “We can make noise here at night and no one minds. There’s a punk band the next row over but we get along.” He offered a mysterious smile when he said it.


  Sam said, “Did they tell you the good news?”

  “That’s why she’s here,” Jack said.

  Henry smiled. “I booked the band at Meteor Manor.”

  “Already?” Rayanne said. “I thought you would futz around and put it off and then lose the contact information.”

  “I guess I deserve that,” Henry said, “but you thought wrong. They loved what we’re doing and they had an open night for us.”

  “Cody thinks there’s something wrong with the place and it’s a trap,” Sam said.

  “A trap for what? Do you have anything worth trapping?” Rayanne asked.

  Sam pressed his hands to his chest. “I like to think that I do.”

  “Well, that’s great. I can’t wait to see you in a real club.”

  “If you like it, would you reconsider us for the festival?” Jack asked.

  “We have to cancel the festival,” she said.

  “Why?” Sam said, more upset than she would have guessed. “We were all going to go and see what it was about.”

  “Long story,” Rayanne said. “I think we’ll try to have it again sometime.”

  “There’s a reason I wanted all of us here,” Henry said. “Rayanne’s grandpa is in an intertribal drum circle and they need a place to play. I would like to invite them to play here sometime.”

  Rayanne smiled in surprise. She’d never thought of trying to find another place for them. “What a great idea.”

  “I thought of it last night. I don’t think Earl’s rehab center is going to be too welcoming.”

  “I always wanted to play with a drum group,” Cody said. “I never had a chance before. Do they let young guys play?”

  “I understand they’re recruiting,” Rayanne said. “Maybe we can do it later this week. Maybe we can break Earl out too.”

  39

  Arnie suggested they go for a walk. He wanted to talk to Linda somewhere that wasn’t the office or a meeting room. Someplace away from the phone.

  They met at the greenway that ran along the river. Big stands of trees shaded a series of paths and trails. The park had plenty of picnic tables and a playground. There were too many people to pretend they were away from it all, but there was a hazy sky overhead and grass and trees all around.