by K. T. Tomb
The council was a diverse group and each of them had an agenda. Bob Harvey did a lot of work with the police department; he was on edge because of the strike. Maura Cox was new to the council. She represented a posh Brooklyn enclave. Her goals were lofty, some would say even unrealistic. She was not living in the city during 9/11 or Hurricane Sandy. Then they had Rafael Sandoval III. He represented a portion of the Bronx and though his goals were lofty like Maura’s, they were inventive and unique. Some of them could be effective if given a chance.
Patch called the meeting to order.
“Welcome,” he started, “Today we are going to do this to the agenda.”
He crumpled up the piece of paper that everyone had been given.
“I want everyone to wave goodbye to the nice reporters watching us on closed circuit television.” he added as he snapped off the cameras.
Dozens of council members gazed at him with bewilderment. Patch spoke again.
“What’s up, guys? Why don’t we just throw some stuff out there and see if it sticks. Run it up the flag pole and see if anyone salutes,” he smiled.
“I love the idea, Mr. Mayor.”
Patch stopped Rafael.
“Let’s stick with Patch in here. Cool by you, Rafe?”
“That’s cool, Patch. I have an idea. I want to replant some of the empty lots in my neighborhoods; get the kids involved. Some of the Hispanic youth have their roots in agriculture; it can be an homage to their ancestors. We can let them paint approved murals on some of the ugly facades. We have so many artists here in New York, even from the university; they can help as interns. It can succeed with some city funding.”
Rafe was proud to have the floor, which was a first.
“That’s what I’m talking about. It’s been done before, mostly on the grassroots level. I love the idea of getting college kids involved. It would be a coup for them to have their name on a piece of public art. Now we’re rolling. I would like to encourage more creative ideas and unity. Perhaps passing this peace pipe will help.”
Patch passed the pipe to Bob Harvey first. He was popping a pill every couple of hours. He was in need of something to calm his nerves. He inhaled deeply and blew out a plume of smoke.
“Is this illegal?” the Police chief asked.
“Not yet,” Patch grinned as the pipe continued to move.
Not many members refused the pipe until it arrived at Maura Cox.
“I was elected to this council to uphold the law. I am not going to keep company with adults who do something my children do not do.”
“The real problem is, Maura, your children are probably doing a lot worse and you don’t even know it.” A usually uptight Clarence Wilson remarked.
He and his arch-enemy on the council had their arms around each other. Maura Cox stormed out in protest. Patch looked on as the majority of the council members were getting high and having fun thanks to his tribal peace pipe. A conga line formed in the rear of the chamber. A toupee flew into the air. He didn’t care to know whose it was. It was a hoot to watch, but he also came to the conclusion that the council was not ready for the pipe. At least he had witnessed an unforgettable council meeting. City Hall was an old building so it had many secret exits. He rushed the party out through an underground tunnel to avoid the barrage of press.
Chapter Seven
That Evening
Patch took the car back to his place and quickly slipped back into his moccasins and buckskin attire. When he walked through the lobby Monroe, the doorman, rolled his eyes. Patch, as Morning Star, shrugged his shoulders and shot him a bashful grin. While he was at the late morning market, he’d picked up a poncho that was made especially for him. It was made for someone much larger but he wore it anyways.
He entered the banquet room late. Everyone was seated and heads turned when he entered the room. Linda Lightfoot sat with Pale Fox whose hand was draped around her shoulder. They looked every bit the couple. Linda gave Morning Star a demure smile and waved while Pale Fox and his friends exchanged rude comments about him. They were drinking heavily.
Morning Star received a broad welcoming smile from Chief Woebegone, an ancient man with leathered skin and sparkling eyes. He took Morning Star’s arm, which was a huge honor, and led him through the crowd. When the two of them approached, the sea of people parted. Morning Star felt a buzz of good energy from Woebegone. Either it was aftereffects of the peace pipe from that afternoon, or he was beginning to feel like a member of the Canarsee tribe. Regardless of which, it felt good.
An open pit with an animal carcass turning slowly on a spit began calling Morning Star’s name. He thought for a moment that he was having the munchies but remembered he hadn’t had anything to eat since lunch as he approached one of the teens tending to the meat. He was ravenous.
“What’s cooking guys? It looks like a small pig.”
One of the girls responded.
“It’s a turtle.”
“Oh, really? Like Yertle the Turtle or the Teenage Mutant kind?”
He turned pale and thought of his brother. If Hunting Bear were with him, he would try it.
“Looks naked. I think I’ll pass on the delicacy for now.”
Morning Star shuffled away to find something to drink and caught sight of Linda. She was alone, which was a rare occasion. Pale Fox was normally glued to her side. As usual, she wasn’t dressed in any traditional Native American garb but wore a pair of faded jeans and a blue V-neck t-shirt. She smiled at Morning Star, but this time seductively. The demure grin she had flashed earlier was gone. He tried to be cool and ladled himself a drink. He was too busy looking at her to pay any attention to what it was and promptly spat it out. He’d had enough.
“Damn, I just want a burger and a Coke.”
Linda looked at him curiously.
“You’re not what anyone expected, Morning Star.”
“Yeah, well I’m full of surprises and I like to keep people guessing. An air of mystery suits me, but you’re a surprise as well. I see you like to dress like a non-Native American. I think, considering the occasion, you would come looking more like Pocahontas.”
“Wow, Morning Star. That is a little insulting, don’t you think? I’m a scientist. I worked very hard to get the letters behind my name. I’m here to try and help my people. I can do that best through proving historical fact. History should be studied, not repeated in those ridiculous outfits. Sure, we are people with a proud past but we must prove that we are serious and that we can live in the present.”
He looked down at his Indian outfit and blushed. Linda attempted to save herself.
“I didn’t mean to offend you, Morning Star.”
Morning Star commented, “You look fine, but I think you should loosen up a little and try to have some fun. It’s a celebration.”
“Loose? You think I’m not loose enough? For your information I am as loose as they come.”
“Don’t let your mother hear you say that,” he quipped.
Linda blushed and laughed. She grew a mischievous look on her face.
“Let’s get out of here, Morning Star.”
He looked down at the food. He was sure there were only going to be more unsettling menu options on offer and agreed. Linda grabbed his arm and led him to the exit. Pale Fox watched them leave.
***
Morning Star and Linda Lightfoot wandered through the town near the campus, arguing over which burger joint to hit, so they ended up with pizza instead.
“I love a good slice. I could eat an entire pizza,” Linda said.
“I don’t know where you hide it. This is a great change from fish jerky. I like Native American cuisine as most of the Canarsee do, but you can’t beat some good old greasy American food.”
“You are referring to Italian-American food or French-American food. The stuff they were serving at the festival is true American food. I don’t mean to get all technical. I concur on any account; I don’t even like fish and I could do without all of the corn t
hey use.”
The river was raging and the moonlight made Linda increasingly beautiful, if that was possible. In his short time among them, Patch had learned to appreciate things like the molten silver color of the rushing river and the power of a moonbeam. Linda spoke, which snapped him back.
“I’ve often wondered where you go, Morning Star, when you disappear at night. I see you get in a vehicle so I can tell you’re not homeless.”
“That will have to remain a mystery, Linda. I don’t want to shatter your image of me. What if I shovel manure all day?”
“Is that what you do?”
Patch thought for a moment before replying, “In a way, yes.”
Linda leaned in close. She had never looked more stunning. Her face was finely chiseled by the moonlight. He could feel her breath and its smell was sweet. He thought she was irresistible. Patch swallowed hard and stepped back.
“Please, give me a hint about who you are beyond the powwow. The Canarsee people are curious and so am I.”
Linda continued to ask questions and Patch evaded every one. Finally, she pinned him up against a tree. She had deftly positioned herself to kiss him when they were interrupted by giggling in the shrubs. There were young children spying on them.
“Get on, you little terrors,” she shouted playfully, chasing them away.
Patch saw a way to escape, though it was not easy because, to Linda’s astonishment, he turned and ran away. Patch raised a hand and waved goodbye.
“It has been fun, Linda,” he yelled. “I’ll see you soon.”
He was gone into the forest before she could say a word in protest. Linda shook her fist in the air and pouted. A figure stepped out of the shadows. He’d been watching them the whole time and now he turned and followed Patch.
***
Patch was lost in the woods.
He walked through the forest bewildered, trying to remember what he had learned about following the night sky. He asked himself, Is the North Star truly north or is the South Star north?
In his car, his GPS navigational system would have simply answered that question. He remembered moss and found it on the trunk of a tree. Eureka! His excitement was short lived because he quickly realized that he didn’t know if the moss was supposed to be growing on the north or the south side of a tree. His headdress snagged on a tree branch and he lost a moccasin. He was a mess.
“A fine chief I make.”
Patch heard the crackling of dried leaves behind him and heavy breathing.
“Hello. Who’s there?” he asked.
No response.
Patch decided to run, the tree branches tore at him, but no matter how fast he went, he heard the footsteps getting closer. Patch tripped and fell, delivering a solid blow to the center of his face. Groaning, he managed to turn over.
“Pale Fox” Patch said.
“You appear lost,” he said, grinning wickedly and smelling like alcohol. “How is it that the great Morning Star gets lost in the woods? Your spirit has supposedly been wandering here for centuries.”
“Even spirits can make a wrong turn.”
Pale Fox leaned forward.
“I’m watching you, Morning Star, or whoever you are. One false step and you will be exposed.”
Linda appeared from the forest like a dream and hurried over to Patch when she saw the cut across his brow. She turned to Pale Fox.
“You are a creep and you have made a fool of yourself. We are over.”
Pale Fox puffed up his chest as if he would say something to her. The look on her face quenched that need immediately and he turned and stormed away.
Chapter Eight
Two days later
Patch woke up at 5 a.m. He was meeting Nathan for their usual run in Battery Park. He needed the opportunity to gain some perspective. He had only returned to being Mayor Vincent Patch fulltime for two days by then and he already missed Morning Star. More specifically, he missed Linda Lightfoot. The other night by the river had been memorable. He couldn’t stop thinking about what could have been. Lies surrounded his relationship with Linda and Pale Fox threatened to find out what they were and reveal those lies. His relationship problems were minor in comparison to the reality of losing Manhattan.
As he walked to the shower, he tripped over the doll given to him by Taki. He smiled as it reminded him of his own little girl. Hillary would have loved the powwow. The music, the exotic costumes and the friendly people would have thrilled her. He had taken her to a couple of Broadway shows and she had delighted in every one. She loved the Lion King, Matilda and most recently, they had been to see the Spider-Man show. When he’d seen his daughter over the weekend, he’d been tempted to tell her the legend of the Canarsee and about some of their customs but had decided it was a bad idea. Instead, they spent their time talking about mermaids. She was curious about whether they made it as far as the rivers or if they were only residents of the sea.
Patch passed Monroe as he exited the building. The poor guy had not seen Morning Star in a couple of days and was probably thinking that the entire thing had just been a dream. Patch never mentioned it, which he thought was best. His guise as Morning Star was confusing enough to him. He waved ‘Hello’ to the doorman as he passed.
When Patch arrived to meet his brother, Nathan was finishing a bacon, egg and cheese biscuit that he had picked up to-go.
“Eating again I see.”
“Why not? I’m not fat,” Nathan snapped.
“I wasn’t saying you’re fat. You’re just always eating. I worry about how your arteries look,” Patch said.
“I recently got a clean bill of health, thank you. I don’t run because I enjoy it, but food tastes good, so I eat it. It’s not that complicated but thanks for your concern.”
Patch updated his brother on his life as Morning Star. He talked during the entire run.
“There you have it Nate. Any advice?”
“I think that you’ve gotten yourself into a tricky situation. I know you love this city but now your loyalties are with the Canarsee as well. Add in the fact that you are falling in love with Linda Lightfoot.”
Patch looked incredulous.
“I’m what? I didn’t say a thing about falling in love with the anthropologist. She’s beautiful, that is clear to see, but love? That’s an entirely different thing.”
“To paraphrase Bill Shakespeare; ‘Thou doth protest too much, methinks’. Come on, Vincent, it’s so obvious. It’s one of the reasons for your wishy-washy behavior.”
They stopped in at a café for a quick espresso. That was Patch’s order. Nate opted for a triple mocha frappe with whipped cream.
“Mmmm. I deserve it after all of that exercise.”
Patch rolled his eyes.
***
Patch rolled into the teepee for the final council meeting. This time he was seated on the dais and not behind the sound system. He was appreciative of not being around the hazardous wires and electrical outlets. As was expected, he gave the opening welcome statements which included a blessing that he had learned from the elder, Woebegone. Then he welcomed Linda Lightfoot to the podium.
“I have interesting and valuable information to share regarding the lost lease. As I have poured over the legends of the Canarsee, I find that I am often drawn back to the moon and stars. The ancient document I have says that on this night, the moon will be full. It will lead us to the missing lease, which we believe buried in the park. It is the time for the council to vote. If approved, I and another will follow the moon’s path.”
The council members began speaking among themselves. The prospect of digging in the park excited Linda. She had exhausted all efforts to have it done with city approval. Morning Star remained silent hoping the council would not elect him to accompany Linda. He said nothing trying to blend into the background, which was not possible. Linda winked in his direction. He noticed that Pale Fox was not by Linda’s side. He sat in the back row with arms crossed and a scowl on his face.
Sudd
enly, Chief Woebegone began to speak. He was normally very quiet but the auspicious event required him to take a leadership role.
“I have heard the wishes of the people,” he said as he turned towards Morning Star. “They elect you to accompany Linda Lightfoot into the park at dark.”
Woebegone took his seat and gave the floor to Morning Star. The crowd cheered him with approval.
“I am honored that you have selected me to accompany Linda Lightfoot. She is the brains in this operation. I know of the dangers in Central Park at night. People loiter at all hours. There are miscreants of every kind, from hookers to drug dealers. They are crafty and they have learned to escape the eyes of the police patrols, lurking in the shadows. It is not a safe place.”
Patch was doing his best to discourage the venture into Central Park.
Linda stopped his speech when she jumped on the podium. She was impeccably dressed in black pants and a tailored Grey jacket. She whipped open her jacket and revealed a deadly collection of knives and even a handgun.
“I don’t think we will have to concern ourselves with those hiding in the shrubs. I have lived in this city all my life. I have a permit for this gun and I know how to use it.”
The crowd gave her an abrupt cheer and Linda took a bow.
“I will take care of you, Morning Star.”
Linda gave him a smile and a good-natured laugh.
Chapter Nine
Central Park under the full moon
Patch was still dressed as Morning Star as he was poised to meet Linda at the ice cream shop. It was a good place to rendezvous, and he knew it well from his visits with Spike. While he was waiting for Linda, he eavesdropped on a couple’s conversation. They were an elderly pair in their eighties. He was African American and she was Caucasian. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other; neither age nor the color of their skin seemed to slow the couple down. He considered himself in his full Indian regalia. New York was truly a melting pot, he thought to himself. To diversify things further, the exotic Linda Lightfoot entered the shop.
