Sweetheart Braves

by Pamela Sanderson

  Tommy closed his eyes. She was back at his place, again, and waiting for him, like nothing had changed. "I hope so. Are you okay?"

  "I'm not drinking. I'm going to be good this time. I promise." Her tone was sincere, contrite. The accident was the wake-up call she’d needed.

  "Good. I'll be home late tonight or early tomorrow. I'm supposed to work."

  "Okay. Sorry, Tommy. When you get here, I'll apologize to your boss. I'm going to talk to some people about a job. I'm going to do it right this time."

  "Good to hear, Ange," Tommy said with a breath of relief.

  When he came out, Elizabeth stood in front of a mirror wearing a sequined gown like a movie star would wear to a premiere. She dropped a hand to her hip and shifted her body so that the smooth bronze line of her leg showed. With a tilt of her head, she swept her hair back, and he caught a glimpse of the back of her neck where he'd kissed her the night before. His heart kicked up a notch.

  "You're amazing," he said. "You getting that?"

  Elizabeth stood back as if waiting for the punch line. "You're not going to tell me it's too much or make a cutting remark about a fancy gown and the rez?"

  Tommy shook his head. "Why would I do that?"

  Elizabeth put her arms around his neck and kissed him. "This is the best weekend I've ever had. If I wasn't so worried about Granny, I would never want it to end."

  "Me either," he said, and hugged her back like he would never let her go.

  23

  When Arnie arrived at the impound lot, he spotted the green car but no Linda. Heavy rain battered the windshield.

  A text arrived: Across the street.

  He searched until he spotted her, waving from the front of a two-story brick building that looked like a funeral home. He drove across the street and went inside.

  "Insurance has been and gone. I'm waiting out the cloudburst here," Linda said. She wasn't kidding about getting stuck in the rain. Her hair was damp, and she was wearing a plastic garbage bag, which was oddly adorable.

  "What did he say?" he asked.

  "He muttered a bunch of stuff that sounded helpful but wasn't informative. We have a rez bus now."

  "We want our clients to feel at home," Arnie said. "You okay?"

  She looked down at herself and then offered a grim smile. "No worse than usual. My rain jacket is in my car. These past few days I've learned that I keep many critical items in my car."

  "Noncritical items, too," Arnie said.

  "Don't start," she said, but she gave him a goofy grin, almost like old times. "I need to finish my tea and thank Arlo."

  "Arlo? How long have you been here?" he said.

  Inside, the place was like a study hall with tall bookcases and heavy rectangular tables surrounded by chairs. It had a library's heavy air and smelled like wood polish and flower arrangements. Library or funeral home—you'd never raise your voice in this room. She picked up a teacup and her bag and motioned him across a wide hall, their footsteps tapping along the shiny wood floor. They passed a set of double doors, and through the windows there was an expanse of grass and some playground equipment, dripping in the wet weather.

  "What is this place?" he whispered.

  "A meditation center," Linda said, sounding thrilled.

  "A cult?"

  "No. People who practice being calm." Her eyes were shiny as she looked around.

  "You interested?"

  "Kinda," she said.

  Linda needed something, but he wasn't sure this was it. She introduced him to a man with a beard and a palpable serenity. "I'm taking off," she told him. "Thanks, Arlo."

  Children's laughter rang down the hallway.

  "We share some of our space with a daycare center," Arlo explained. "Do you want a tour?"

  They couldn't possibly look like good recruits. "Sorry, have to get going." Arnie tried to sound regretful. He looked at Linda. "I can get you in the car and then take off, if you want to hang out here."

  "I don't have time, either," Linda said, as if suddenly remembering her own agenda. Linda thanked the guy, and they took the rig back to the impound lot.

  He said, "I was surprised you called me, after what happened last time."

  When they were in college, she was always tracking him down to show him an editorial she'd written for the school paper or to ask him to help brainstorm ideas to get more students involved in native issues. Back then he liked being the one she looked to for help.

  The rain drummed against the windshield. Linda smoothed the front of the plastic bag she wore. "Not my car. I wasn't sure if you wanted it driven into the river."

  "Not with you in it," he said, the words sounding loud in the enclosed space. A funny spark of tension stretched out between them.

  "Of course not, who else can run your organization in such fine fashion?" she said. The tension disappeared.

  "True words. You did a great job out on the rez, by the way. They're talking about forming a tribal consortium for urban issues. You should tell them your idea for a city liaison."

  "You like that idea?" She turned to look at him, like she was peering into his head. He always felt like he was one step behind her, scrambling to catch up.

  "It's a brilliant idea," he said.

  She gave him a grateful look. "City says they have a site for us to look at. You have time in the next week or two?"

  "Of course," Arnie said. "Staff coming?"

  "Nope. I don't want to get anyone's hopes up. Or destroy them either." She gave the green car a grim look, a look he'd given it many times himself. "Shall we get this over with?"

  "Why don't you wait in here?" he said, pulling on his rain jacket.

  "Why bother?" she said. He found her a baseball cap with a casino logo on it, and they got out. It took him several attempts before he managed to get the door open, mud marking the driver's side door by the time he finished.

  He kicked a low tire. "What is it with you and tires?" He walked around the car to inspect the others.

  "Maybe I'll get another flat and we could argue again." Between the cap and the garbage bag, she looked smaller, more like the girl he went to college with, and his heart went tight at the memory.

  "There's a gas station a mile or two down the road. We can put air in the tire, and you can keep an eye on it. How's your gas?"

  "Kissing empty. Would you expect any less? Thanks for the offer but I need to get back."

  "It'll take five minutes. Save me from making another trip." He winked at her.

  They drove to the gas station and finished up with the green car. He topped the truck off, too.

  "Oops," he said when he put the credit card away. "Accidentally used my government credit card. Again. I have to remember to clear that up when I get back to the rez or I'm in big trouble. Send me the info for the city appointment?"

  "I will," Linda said. An overhang protected them from the rain. She still wore the plastic bag. She ran her fingers through her damp hair. "Thanks again. I think Rayanne has a hair dryer at the office. I'm going to go put myself back together."

  They stood there for an endless pause, the awkward silence of people who weren't sure how to talk to each other. He was about to invite her to coffee when her phone rang. She glanced at the ID and her mouth curved into a smile. A hot pang of envy shot through him when he guessed who that smile was for.

  "Thanks," she mouthed and squeezed his forearm before she got into the car. Inside, she fought with the seatbelt before managing to hook it, the phone still glued to her ear.

  She wasn't paying attention when he said goodbye.

  24

  "You look good," Granny said, admiring Tommy's new clothes. The compliment made him more self-conscious. The longer he thought about it, the more flawed the plan became. Any plan that relied on him standing in front of a group and speaking was bound to go wrong.

  The museum entry chamber was crammed when they arrived. Several groups of school children filled one half, their voices echoing throughout the roo
m. The kids ran back and forth, taking photos, shoes slapping against the floor. A group of foreign tourists waited near the entry to the exhibit halls.

  Elizabeth said, "Are we supposed to seize control over one of these groups?"

  "I've got a group on the way," he said. "We'll take them back. I'll do some talking, and then you and Granny will dazzle them with your own story-telling."

  The students had taken over all the benches, so Granny sat on the walker seat.

  "Talking in front of people and playing the machines are Granny's two favorite things," Elizabeth said.

  "I like other things," Granny said. "I like hiking around the woods and the beach, and eating French fries, and being around you kids."

  "Good life Granny," Elizabeth said. She fiddled with Tommy's shirt sleeves, rolling them up his forearms and checking that the sides were even. "I like this shirt the best. Looks sexy."

  "Sexy is not what we need here," he said, the light and familiar touch stirring him up.

  Elizabeth shook her head. "I don't understand that remark. You could use a haircut."

  "What? And let you succeed where not only Linda, but also Rayanne, and even Ester have failed? This is my haircut."

  "How about a ponytail then? You've got enough to pull back."

  "I've tried. It never looks right."

  "I can help you," Elizabeth said.

  "What about when you aren't around?" Tommy asked.

  She ran her fingers through his hair, smoothing it back and gathering it together. "We're going to sort us out later, we decided."

  He'd successfully talked Elizabeth out of the jacket, but she'd found him a pair of dress shoes that he had to admit weren't terrible, but they gave him an awkward gait like he was tromping around in snowshoes.

  "I'm not sure about these," he said.

  "New shoes—well, new to you—always feel weird," she said.

  "I don't think I've ever worn dress socks," he said.

  "I don't believe you," Elizabeth said, adjusting his collar, taking her time sliding her finger along his neck as if the act were more complicated than it was.

  He took her hand so she would stop distracting him. "Thanks for the outfit," he said.

  "Didn't your mom make you wear nice outfits for events?" she asked.

  "What's an event?"

  "Weddings. Graduation. High school dance?"

  His mom would have had to buy him a nice outfit if she wanted to make him wear one. His mom barely remembered to buy him clothes at all. Linda was the one who got him a nice outfit under the guise of giving him a graduation gift when he came to work for her.

  "My mom didn't make me wear things," he said.

  Elizabeth wore another outfit from that magical bottomless backpack. Today it was a turquoise sundress with a beaded belt and long beaded earrings. Her wavy hair was loose and every time she looked at him, his chest went tight, a mix of desire and uncertainty.

  Everything she said about Angie spooled through his head on repeat. She thought Angie dragged him down, but Elizabeth didn't know his family. Angie needed family support, and their family wasn't built for that. He was it. Everyone needed someone.

  He would never have made it without Linda. He was lucky he met her since he originally planned to ditch the Native Student Association mentoring workshop. She was assigned to answer his questions about school, help him with financial aid, and encourage him to participate in school activities. She’d done more than that, sticking by him when he fell off the wagon, insisting he was perfect for a job that she must have invented just for him.

  She never gave up on him, always doing little things like giving him gift cards or bringing him cold medicine when he was sick. Her over-achiever frazzle was welcome after the years of a family who sat around getting loaded and yelling at each other and who made fun of him when he tried to do anything responsible. That's one of the reasons he'd spent so much time playing basketball. The adults who hung out around the community center were more predictable.

  He wasn't about to abandon Angie if he was the only one to help her.

  The woman with the purple flag came into the museum followed by a group of seniors. Tommy mustered up a cheery wave, like he imagined a camp counselor would do, welcoming them to their informative tour. He wasn't sure how this next part was going to work out.

  "Too bad Rayanne isn't here," he said under his breath. "She's got Coyote in her blood. I, on the other hand, hate this."

  "No one knows but you." Elizabeth's hands lingered over him, brushing the fabric on his shoulders, the careless display of affection soothing. "Remember, you look amazing."

  He wished he had her confidence. He'd written a statement, memorized it, and now it was folded up in his pocket. He touched his pocket again to be sure.

  "Who are these youngsters?" Granny asked, looking over the group as they approached. She looked brighter, re-energized by the upcoming hijinks.

  His stomached creaked and his palms grew sweaty. He wiped his hands on his pants and jammed them in his pockets as he studied the group.

  "Here we go," he said under his breath before addressing them. "Welcome, everyone!"

  He'd summoned his memories of Linda and Rayanne doing talks about the center and what they wanted to achieve, why their work was necessary. He wished he'd paid better attention.

  The only advice he could remember for speaking to a group was enthusiasm, which he would have to manufacture, and to take his time and not talk too fast.

  "Glad you could make it," he said, giving the tour leader a thumbs-up. He urged the group to move in closer. "I'm Tommy Weaver, Klamath Tribes."

  Seniors were so different from kids; they paid close attention. Most of the men wore baseball caps, and most of the women had bags slung diagonally over their shoulder. Everyone wore glasses. Some of them held notepads with pens ready.

  "Nice to have you here," Tommy said, flooded with doubt the minute their eyes were on him. Too late to give up now. "This is Elizabeth Lewis, and this amazing lady is the great activist and tribal leader, Dorothy Scott, both Yurok citizens. Let's get going."

  Granny went first, setting the pace across the entry, moving at top speed with the wheeled walker.

  "She likes to compete with other elders," Elizabeth whispered.

  "She's the only one in a hurry," Tommy said, with a fresh wave of nerves. Getting into the exhibition hall was the first test. He led the group to the entry and mustered his best confident smile.

  The attendant stuck her arm out to block their path. "Which group is this?" she asked.

  "Senior learning," Granny said, nudging the lady's arm out of her way.

  "Hang on," the attendant said. She lifted her radio and said, "Group entry?"

  A sheen of sweat broke out on Tommy's back. There was no backup plan. The attendant was searching for instructions from someone across the room. Tommy forced himself to face forward and hold his face in a mask of confident expectation.

  Granny cleared her throat. "This place don't like me much."

  The attendant smiled apologetically. "Why don't you go ahead," she said, waving them through.

  Wow, Elizabeth mouthed.

  Tommy guided the seniors into the exhibition. "The focus of this talk is tribal citizens and ceremonial objects."

  When Elizabeth watched Tommy lead the group into the exhibit, it was like seeing a different person. It was more than the clothes. He moved like a man made of confidence, chatting with the seniors, asking them questions, like you'd expect from someone who drove elders around every day.

  He went into the main hall and brought the group to the ceremonial regalia on display. There were a few moments of throat clearing and a long awkward pause before Granny said, "You gonna talk?"

  "I am," he said, glancing around the group with a nervous laugh. He indicated the exhibit. "For a lot of people, an exhibit like this is the closest they get to Indian people. When they see this, they see Indian people as something exotic, or something in history."


  Once he began, the words sounded natural and he lost the panicked look in his eyes. Whatever preparation he had done, it worked.

  He continued, "People forget that we are still here, we still practice our culture. And for today when I say we, I'm generalizing for the three of us here. I don't speak for all Indian Country. As tribes, we use our natural resources and we take care of our citizens. On the rez, we have our own law and order, our own social services. I'm an urban Indian, and I work with an organization that provides services and community to urban Indians."

  He faltered, and she spotted why. A security guard, someone they hadn't seen before, came over and stood at the edge of the group. This guy was big, but his body was relaxed, and he had a half-smile on his face, more like a teddy bear than a bouncer.

  "A lot of what we do is preserve what we have and try to get back what we have lost. That means lands or hunting rights. And that means our sacred objects." Tommy pointed to the display. "In Western culture, you might see these as fancy historical clothing, but to us, it's much more. These items have a purpose, and they need special care." He turned and gestured at Granny. "This is Dorothy Scott, an honored elder of the Yurok Tribe and she is going to talk to you about this display."

  Granny began her talk, pointing out each item. Elizabeth passed around copies of the archive photo of Granny in her ceremonial dress. Elizabeth had listened to Granny and Leo advocate for tribal people her entire life. Granny was an excellent speaker and knew how to read her audience. Just a day earlier she'd seemed so old, but today she looked strong. Fierce.

  Elizabeth could tick off in her head the topics Granny would cover. How the Ind'n kids were taken to boarding school to assimilate into white culture. About all the culture that was lost since conquest.

  The security guard from the day before, the lady who probably hadn't laughed in a decade, joined the teddy-bear guy. They exchanged a few words, disagreement apparent. They both moved back but didn't leave the room.

  Elizabeth sidled up to Tommy, sliding her hand into his and giving him a squeeze, more to reassure herself than him. "Are you catching this?"