I swept the beads into the small tin that Kahasi had given me, and stuffed my sewing things into the basket. I could feel tears filling my eyes.
What if Angel was right? What if I was stupid to try to help the African women? What if I couldn’t learn to sew? What if I wasn’t smart and talented like my dad? What was I going to do then?
Chapter 13
Changes
Dad came home after a few days, which was a huge relief. It took a few weeks for things to settle back to normal, but I felt happy again, and good things had started to happen. Unfortunately, Kelvin was still Angel’s boyfriend, but he wasn’t at Sequoia much. He was still mad about having to take math over again, so he hardly ever showed up for anything. I thought he should get Angel to help him, since she was good in math, but – as usual – he didn’t like my ideas.
When he wasn’t holding Angel’s hand or hugging her – which just made me feel sick – he was just as mean as ever. He spent most of his time at the gas station across the street from Sequoia, mostly just hanging around. That had been Dad’s idea. Dad figured if Kelvin could make himself useful, maybe he could get a job there, maybe apprentice. But Dad also wanted Kelvin to finish school. I don’t think the man who owned the garage liked the idea of letting someone who had stolen a car and had a criminal record work for him. He probably wasn’t even crazy about having a thief there at all, but sometimes Kelvin would pump gas, sweep out the garage, pass tools to the mechanic, and pretend he was useful.
That was the bad part – that Kelvin was still around. The good parts were that the sewing machine was working better for me now, Mum had gone to have that operation and was feeling much better, Dad was home more often, and those plants I had been watering every single day weren’t so little anymore. They had grown way too tall for the containers with plastic lids.
Lila, Mrs. B., and Trisha had helped me re-plant them into some old flowerpots Lila had gathered from people she knew. We stuffed lots of plants into each pot, but we had to be careful doing it so the roots weren’t disturbed. Mrs. B. said it was best if the plants didn’t realize they had been moved into new pots. We had put some of them up on the window ledges, so they’d get more sunlight and grow better. Every couple of days I switched the containers around, so all of the plants would have the same chance to grow. It was a lot more work than when they were little – when I just had to spray them with water. And since Sequoia is in a basement and the windows are near the ceiling, it meant I had to climb on a chair now to water them. The water was heavy to lift that high, and they sure drank a lot of water.
Some of the plants were as tall as my forearm was long, and the leaves had gotten as round as the palm of my hand. Some of them even had swollen buds with color peeking out. I was curious to see if the red flower or the yellow flower would be the first one to bloom. I also wanted to eat one, but I knew I wouldn’t eat the first ones to bloom. For that, I would have to be patient.
With all of the waiting I had to do with everything, I was getting to be more patient. But still, it would be great when the nasturtiums bloomed, and even better when we could put them outside for everyone to see. But even though there were leaves on the tress now, Mrs. B. said it wouldn’t be warm enough for the nasturtiums to go outside until after Easter Break. That meant at least two more weeks of waiting, waiting, waiting.
By the time Easter was over, the days were getting longer, and the sun was getting so warm each afternoon that I didn’t need to wear my jacket on my way from my school to Sequoia. I skipped down the street, feeling the warm sun on my skin. I was hoping it was time to put all those flowerpots outside to make the town look prettier, but even more, I wanted to see how the plants looked. I’d been worried about them all during the school holidays. I wondered how they would survive for ten days with only the water in their saucers. Angel had promised me she’d water the plants when she got to school that morning, but I didn’t know if she had remembered to do it. I was also anxious to see the flowers. They hadn’t bothered to open before the school break.
“Ah, Lacey. I’ve been waiting for you.” Mrs. B. had a big smile on her face as she walked across the room to meet me. “We have a surprise for you.”
I wanted to see the surprise, but I wanted to see my plants more. I gave her my shy smile and didn’t say anything.
“Come on,” she said, putting her arm lightly on my back and directing me to the stairs. “The surprise is outside.”
All of my plants were there. Thirteen pots in all different sizes and shapes. Some were made of plastic, and some were made of clay. Some of the pots were hanging by wires from the tree, and some were beside the sidewalk. The plants were so bushy that you couldn’t tell that the tops of some of the pots were chipped. The plants had their leaves turned to the south, to the sunshine. My face smiled the big smile now, the one that shows my crooked teeth.
“They look beautiful,” I said. I bent close to the blue pot. Some of the flowers were almost hidden by the big leaves, but I could see that they were shaped like a cone with a flared end.
“The boys carried them outside this afternoon, and Lila set them up,” said Mrs. B. “They really are stunning, and they make the whole street look brighter. There is one more pot to bring out. It will go on the front steps of the church, but I told them to wait. I wanted you to see all of these first.”
I felt so proud of my flowers and how they looked. I felt as if the sun was shining from me. I had made this beauty with my own hands. Everything seemed to be perfect.
Chapter 14
Heartbreak
The weather in Alberta in the springtime is a crazy thing. Some days it’s as hot as summer, some days it’s as cold as fall, and some days the wind blows so hard it feels as if it will knock you over.
Clouds had covered the moon last night, and the wind that blew through my sweater made it feel colder than it had been since winter. I was worried that a frost might have come to hurt my flowers. I was supposed to cover them up with sheets after school, just in case a late frost came, but I’d been so busy yesterday that I forgot. I didn’t like how that wind felt. I hoped my forgetfulness hadn’t killed my plants. That would be a horrible thing to happen.
When the bus dropped me off at my school, I ran past the six houses to Sequoia, hoping to check on my plants and then run back to my own school before the bell rang. Besides, I wanted to see if Lila had made muffins. Dad was away again, and I didn’t have time to eat breakfast or make my own lunch this morning. Mum wasn’t up yet because she had been busy helping Angel take care of the baby. Kayden was sick and had been crying all night.
I glanced at the heavy clay pot on the front step; the plants were safe. They looked as green and lively as they had yesterday, and even more of the buds had burst into yellow, orange, and red flowers. I quickly counted them. Sixteen. Sixteen flowers in one pot! I leapt over the railing of the steps and spun to the side of the church, anxious to see if the other pots had as many blooms. My mouth dropped open. I couldn’t believe what I saw.
Dirt and smashed pots and battered plants were strewn around everywhere. It looked as if someone had stomped on the plants and crushed them into the sidewalk. Branches were broken off the tree, too. Splinters of clear and colored glass sparkled on the ground – the middle window of the church was shattered, and beneath it was a smear of dirt and fragments of a flowerpot. Bad words were written on the wall of the church with black spray paint. Two of the basement windows had been kicked in.
“Who could do this? Who would do this?” I gasped. My hands made fists, and I wanted to hit something. I wanted to punch whoever had done this – punch them hard, right in the face, where it would hurt most. I wanted to beat up whoever had been so horribly mean to my plants and to me. I felt attacked, betrayed. I felt as if I didn’t matter – no matter what I did or how hard I worked, someone would be there to destroy everything.
Then, looking at my poor plants, I felt tears in my eyes. I lifted a lifeless plant from the grass beneath
the tree. Its red flower drooped sadly, as wilted and dead as a wildflower picked from the prairie. Frost hadn’t killed my plants. Some wicked person had. Why would anyone do such a thing?
I shifted my glasses to wipe away the angry tears that were making everything blurry. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and cradled the wilted plant in my hands as gently as if it were a baby bird. Maybe, if it had some water, it would come back to life.
Just then, Lila came up behind me, carrying a garbage can and a broom. “Oh Lacey,” she said. “I can’t believe someone would do this. I am so sorry. I knew it was possible, but I didn’t really think it would happen.” The dead flowers brought tears to her eyes, too. She reached for me and tried to put her arms around me like a mother, but I shrugged off her touch.
“I told you this would happen! I told you someone would wreck them. Now all my work was for nothing!” I didn’t care that my words might hurt Lila. I wanted someone else to feel my pain, too. Instead of putting the plant in water, I clenched it in my fist and ran away.
“No, Lacey. Wait! We can repair the damage,” I heard Lila call.
I ran blindly toward my school, then past it, and past the cemetery. I ran until I was panting and my left side felt as if it had a knife in it. I ran until there was nowhere left to run. I was at the edge of Gleichen, near the water tower, when I spotted the life-sized carving of a buffalo hidden partly by the spruce trees in the park. I felt drawn to the statue with its feet planted solidly on the ground. Its head was bent down and turned slightly, as if it was getting ready to charge an enemy. I knew how that buffalo felt; I wanted to charge, too.
I put my hand out to stroke the curly hair of its forehead. It was as cold and hard as the person who had ruined my flowers. “Why do people do these things?” I cried out loud to the sky. “I don’t understand!” I stomped my feet and beat my arms up and down. “Why? Why? Why?”
Maybe Kelvin was right. Maybe it was true that nothing would ever change for our people. Maybe he wasn’t poisoning Angel with his thoughts of failure – maybe he was right. Just plain right. Maybe changing things was hopeless. I wished I had lived a long time ago when things were simpler, when families were always together, and the only thing to worry about was how to hunt buffalo.
I let the tears drip down my cheeks as I slid down beside the buffalo’s strong forelegs. My sadness shook me until I was tired and weak from the crying. I stayed there a long time and wished my dad was at home. I missed him more than ever. Everything seemed to go wrong when he was away. I sat there while the cold wind shifted around me and made me shiver. I ducked my neck as far into my jacket as I could and pulled my arms up the sleeves so I could wrap them around me inside. Still, I shivered.
What else could go wrong? My flowers were destroyed. I had yelled at Lila. I was late for school. I was hungry. There was no way for me to go home, and it was too far to walk. I was alone and scared, and I was out of choices.
I started back towards school, walking slowly with my hands in my pockets. The wind kept trying to push me backwards. I thought the wind might be right. Maybe I shouldn’t hurry to get to school – I would be in trouble for being so late. I hoped the school secretary hadn’t phoned my mum yet.
When the school bus dropped me off at my house at the end of the day, I raced to see my grandmother. Kahasi would listen. She would understand. My backpack thunked like a stone when it hit the floor. I told Kahasi what had happened to my plants.
“Why are they so mean? Why did they do this?” I was angry again as I told her the story. “I don’t understand why they want to smash things and write bad words with spray paint. It doesn’t make sense! I know it’s people from Siksika doing this. But why, Kahasi? Why? ”
My grandmother poured steaming water from the kettle into two cups. She dipped the tea bags up and down as she spoke.
“They feel helpless,” she said quietly. “I think, me, the anger makes them feel brave and strong. Breaking things gives them power. It gives them something to do when they feel they can do nothing.”
“But that’s wrong! It’s wrong to wreck things and hurt people!”
“You speak with a woman’s wisdom, but you show me the anger of a man. Which one will be stronger, ah?”
She put the cups on the table and lifted a tea towel from a plate. I was so upset that I hadn’t smelled the fry bread. I wanted to reach for a piece, but I was too furious.
“Anger is a terrible thing, my girl, and you are right, anger destroys.” She lifted the tea bag from her cup and poured in milk from the can. “Anger makes other people afraid, too. Maybe afraid to try again.” She stirred her tea slowly. “Come,” she said, “eat. Food helps to calm anger. Maybe you’ll feel better once you eat.”
I didn’t want to eat, but fry bread is my favorite food, and it looked delicious. My stomach rumbled so loudly that I thought she must have heard. I sat across the table from her and fixed my tea the way she fixed hers. Then I reached for a piece of the soft immistsiihkiitaan. I was surprised she didn’t ask me the Blackfoot name the way she usually did. I chewed it slowly, then I reached for another piece. It was so quiet that I could hear the sound of my chewing, and the ticking clock. Kahasi picked up her sewing. She was finishing the edges of that quilt for my cousin.
“I haven’t seen you much lately. I thought maybe you had a boyfriend.” I knew she was teasing me. Her eyes sparkled, and she lifted an eyebrow. “Huh? You have a boyfriend? You getting married?”
“No, I don’t have a boyfriend, but my plants took a lot of time. They were growing so well that I had to keep putting them into bigger and bigger pots, and then the boys put them outside to make the town look better. It did look better. It looked almost like a picture in a magazine. Now it’s all gone. Wasted.” I reached for my beading. I only had the center of the flower left to fill in with beads, then I’d be finished one of the uppers.
“Wasted? No, not wasted.”
“Yes, it is! Everything. Everything was destroyed. All the flowerpots, all the plants. Even a window of the church.”
“Tell me, did you like it when you made the plants grow? Did you like the smell of the earth?”
“Oh, yes! You should have seen them. They grew from these little curled-up seeds into plants that had leaves as big as cookies. And some of the plants had flowers. They looked so beautiful.”
“Well then, nothing has been destroyed. The breaking of the pots can’t take away how growing things made you feel. The only thing that has been hurt is your pride. You can grow new plants.”
“I don’t want to grow new plants. I want the old ones back.”
“But you told me the old ones are destroyed. Gone. What is left of the old plants is your memory of them and how they made you feel. You know how to grow more. It was a bad thing that happened, but it can be fixed. Making things right is up to you.”
I didn’t understand why I should have to fix something that someone else ruined. Whoever ruined it should have to fix it.
Kahasi hummed to herself as she sewed. She hummed an old song that had no words. I stretched my lips around my teeth as I concentrated on making small, tight stitches that would be invisible. I was getting better at beading, but it was hard to get the beads to fit into the tight spiral of the center, harder than I had expected. I had to be careful to get it right. Lots of times, I had to take out stitches and start again. I hated doing things over, but when I did, they sometimes turned out better.
Chapter 15
Showdown
I could hear Kelvin’s angry voice spitting hateful words, and I could hear Angel crying as soon as I stepped through the door. “Stop it! Stop it!” I called as I ran up the stairs to the kitchen.
Kelvin’s eyes were black and stony, and he was holding Angel’s arm tightly. His face was close to hers. She looked frightened, and she was sobbing.
“Leave her alone,” I said. I spoke slowly and forcefully but without yelling. “You aren’t the boss of her.”
“Yes I am!”
he growled. He leaned down and stuck his face close to mine. I planted my feet solidly on the floor and didn’t move. My hands were fists by my side, and my heart was pumping hard. “She’ll do whatever I say, whenever I say it. You understand, you little crooked-toothed brat? She’s mine.”
“No she isn’t. She’s her own person.” I spat the words at him. “She can make her own decisions.”
“Leave Lacey alone, Kelvin. She has nothing to do with this,” said Angel, but her words sounded weak. She was still crying and rubbing her arm where he had gripped her. “Just go, Kelvin. Go now.”
He glared at Angel, then jerked his head at me. “Stay out of this!” he said, pointing his index finger at me. It was black on the tip. “Or else!” He slammed the door so hard the walls shook. I ran down the stairs and locked the door.
Angel and I fell into each other’s arms. We both sobbed.
“Angel, you have to do something. You can’t be afraid all the time. It’s wrong. You need someone loving, like Dad, not someone who is always going to be scaring you.”
“But…” She sobbed harder. “But that’s what I told him. I told him I wouldn’t move in with his family. I said I needed to stay here.”
“And that’s how he acted? He’s dangerous, Angel. You have to tell Mum and Dad.”
“But I have Kayden to think about. He’s her father.”
“You want Kayden to grow up with him? What if he starts yelling at her or…or hitting her?”
“I know,” she whimpered. “I know you’re right.”
We sat together in the hallway, with the whole sides of our bodies touching. Angel reached for my hand, and with her other hand started wiping away tears. “There’s more,” she said quietly. “The police questioned Kelvin today.” She started to cry little jerky cries that stuck in her throat. “They think he’s the one who broke the church windows and your flowerpots and wrote those words and everything. I’m so ashamed, and I’m so worried about what will happen.” She lifted the bottom of her shirt to wipe her face. “He’ll probably go to jail this time. He says he didn’t do it, that he was set up. I want to believe him. I really do. He is good inside, better than people think, better than you think. But still, I’m not so sure about this… I don’t know whether to believe him or not. Whatever I say, or whatever questions I ask just seem to make things worse.”
Lacey and the African Grandmothers Page 7
