by K. T. Tomb
Patch sashayed into his office and for the first time in weeks, he left the door open.
“Sir, can we have that chat about my upcoming wedding now?”
Dini was planning to marry Van in a few weeks. It was going to be a small event but she needed his help with something.
“I’ll have more time in a couple of days, Dini. Remind me.”
Patch sat facing the window. He was looking out at the city he loved. It was too great a place not to share, especially with those who deserved it.
Chapter Twelve
After a Pleasant Sleep
Patch slept in until 7 a.m. It was the first time in months that he had slept peacefully. He would have remained in bed until 10 a.m, but Hillary called on his personal line. She was calling to say she loved him and that she was looking forward to the weekend with him. He turned over and pressed on his television. It was set to cable news. He turned up the volume.
“We have news just in this morning. It involves the City of New York and its dispute with the Canarsee Indians. We have reports that the city has proposed a deal that has been accepted by the tribe. The deal will have sweeping consequences that will change the Big Apple, as we know it. It seems that the City of New York has agreed to give – I should say give back- Central Park to the small tribe. The mayor has chosen to remain behind closed doors on this historic day. We do not know if he is avoiding the chaos or allowing the Canarsee to enjoy their time in the spotlight. We’re about to take you down to New York’s Central Park or whatever the Canarsee people decide to call it.”
Patch sat back and enjoyed the moment from his bed. Linda Lightfoot was on her perch in front of the Vanderbilt Gate. Reporters from around the world and a throng of protestors surrounded her.
“Thanks Sammy, I am here at ground zero for the debate over Manhattan. I guess now we can call it the debate over Central Park. It is mayhem down here and the crowd is as large as New Year’s Eve in Times Square. While we wait for Dr. Linda Lightfoot to speak, we will get the views of some citizens.”
Delilah Martinez was the reporter. She grabbed a stray protestor.
“This is lunacy. Are we going to allow every crackpot group to claim a piece of our country? We have fought wars for this place. While they were busy dancing around a camp fire we were building this great nation. Well I won’t stand for it.”
Delilah took back the microphone.
“Tempers are running high, Sammy.”
Another protestor from the Canarsee tribe grabbed the microphone.
“Be glad you still have Manhattan.”
Finally, Delilah regained control.
“There we have two sides to the story. It is one for the ages here in Manhattan. I think Dr. Lightfoot is about to speak. We will send it to her.”
Patch repositioned himself on his bed. Linda was ready to speak. It was all worth it as he saw the genuine smile that had returned to her face. Behind her on the podium was Chief Woebegone, who also looked happy.
“I first want to welcome all the residents of this great city and give special thanks to the tireless work of my team with the Canarsee team.”
The mention of the name drew boos. Linda re-collected herself.
“I also want to thank the generosity of those representing the City of New York. They have been fair and their willingness to listen has been amazing. I must single out the courage of Mayor Vincent Patch.”
She spoke about the details behind the lease of Manhattan to the Dutch and the loss of the document that would have upheld the arrangement with the subsequent colonialists. The crowd listened but some attendants still speckled her speech with booing. For fifteen more minutes Linda Lightfoot shared candidly with the crowd about the deal that had been struck between the Canarsee and the City of New York.
“While the tribe will be taking possession of the park, it’s important to us for you to know that Central Park will still be available to all New Yorkers. We welcome everyone into our new home. We promise to maintain the park’s beauty and integrity as we build our lives around it and finally live together as a people.”
The crowd, once booing, broke out in a smattering of applause, then finally cheers. Mayor Patch had made his way to the Park and suddenly appeared behind Linda. He was there for her and to present a united front. Linda looked at Patch briefly and smiled. He winked at her as she disappeared with her lawyers, then he took the podium. One reporter asked Patch what had become of the infamous lease that had caused so much trouble. Patch responded.
“It is being stored someplace where it cannot cause any more trouble. I assure you it will be safely archived.”
Patch left the podium. He had done his job and he was satisfied – almost.
***
A grey building with no name stood a few blocks from City Hall, where a lone clerk kept an eye on the millions of city documents stored there. It contained unclassified items like marriage certificates, death certificates and leases. The clerk picked up a dusty old document marked Canarsee/Lease and stepped into a massive hallway filled with rows upon rows of filing cabinets. The hallway was endless. He was carrying the lease in one hand and a piece of fried chicken in the other hand.
The clerk climbed a ladder and found the correct drawer. There were dusty documents inside and none were in any particular order. He talked to himself because there was no one else around and he had no supervisor. He cursed bureaucratic incompetency as he shoved the document anywhere it would fit.
“Shit, did I drop my chicken leg in there? Doesn’t matter. The mice will take care of it.”
It was as good as done.
***
Patch swung by City Hall. It had been a hell of a week and he wanted to make sure it was still standing. He knew about ten ways to get into the building that remained a secret to most. He ducked through one of the false doors and by the time he reached his office he was covered in dust. When he poked his head out of his office door, he saw that Nadine was working at her desk.
“Pssst, Nadine. What are you up to?” Patch said.
“I didn’t see you come in, Mayor Patch. I’m still trying to keep the angry mob at bay. It has been mayhem in this place ever since they found that darn lease. Is there anything you need, sir?”
“I am finally ready for you, Dini. You have been trying to ask me about time off for your wedding, I presume?”
Nadine entered his office and sat down.
“You caught me a little off-guard, sir” she confessed.
Nadine was tentative, which was unusual for her.
“I’ve wanted to ask you for weeks, Mr. Mayor.” He gave her a smirk. “I mean, Patch. I don’t have a father. My Mother raised me and who knows where she is. I need someone to walk me down the aisle, so I chose you. Are you game, Patch?”
“I would be honored, Nadine. I’ll walk you down the aisle, be Van’s best man, be the preacher and hell, let’s throw the shindig at my penthouse.”
Nadine laughed at his joke. She could tell he was back to his old self. It was good. She had missed the old Patch.
“We booked a hall and we have a minister. Van has been putting money away every month,” Nadine said.
Then she realized that he hadn’t been kidding.
“Cancel them all, Nadine. I come cheap and we can get you in the Sunday New York Times as a featured couple in the Lifestyle section. I know a person or two over there that owe me a favor. Since Hillary’s not allowed to date until she’s 25, if ever, this is my chance to throw a party. I’m ecstatic.”
“Thank you, sir. I have to go call Van, he’ll be thrilled. I have to say, you are a different mPale Fox sneered and collapsed in a steel chair.an since the Canarsee situation began dominating your agenda. You have a measure of levity. It is a good thing, Patch, keep it going.”
“I intend to, Dini. I definitely intend to.”
***
Pale Fox was in the recreation room at the Fishkill Correctional Facility. Lenny and Bruce were also housed at Fishkill, but they were in solita
ry lockdown. They had been involved in a gambling and male prostitution ring while incarcerated.
Pale Fox watched Linda through the static on the prison TV. He caught the smile and wink exchanged between Linda and Patch. He was holding a paper cup when it aired. He crushed it and threw it at the wall.
“Hey, dude, relax. I don’t want to have to throw you in solitary with your buddies. Watch that temper.”
Pale Fox sneered and collapsed in a steel chair.
Just wait until I get out of this place, he thought to himself.
***
Patch cruised into his building with a spring in his step. He felt he had done the best he could. Unfortunately, there were still going to be many unhappy New Yorkers. If he dragged this matter through the courts for years there would be repercussions as well; taxpayers would have continued to see their money spent on elite lawyers, money that would be better spent on programs like the one proposed by Rafe Sandoval III in the Bronx. Perhaps the Canarsee lease would be his legacy but he had made it one of which to be proud. He could only hope the people of New York would come around to his way of thinking.
Patch walked through the glass doors and passed through security. Monroe was sitting proudly at his mahogany desk as always. Patch was still in the habit of flashing his I.D. although by now Monroe knew very well who he was. His building was very secure.
“Good evening, friend. How are you on this fine night?” Patch said.
“I am well. I saw you and that stunning woman on television today. I have been following the case, sir; it’s been hard to ignore it. You are back to your old jovial self. I assume the outcome was as you wished,” Monroe commented.
“I think I did okay, Monroe. You can’t please all of the people all of the time. I didn’t think this mayoral gig was going to be easy, so I guess I proved myself correct.”
“I think you are doing a good job considering the circumstances. I feel for those Indian folks. I have had my struggles as an African-American man. Speaking of Indians, do you plan to see that Indian character with the fancy hat again? I have seen him coming and going. I never gave him any problem with checking in. I should have checked him out but he was happy looking, always sporting a mischievous grin. He looked familiar. Do you know who he was?”
Patch ignored the question.
“I will be seeing you soon, Monroe.”
He disappeared into the elevator. He made a mental note as he was sailing up to the 30th floor. He had to speak with whoever was in charge. Monroe was due an increase in salary. He felt it was worth a couple of extra bucks to retain good employees.
***
Linda Lightfoot was packing up her office. Most of what she had was marked to recycle. She knew the lease was stored somewhere safely. It was likely being preserved under glass. It may even end up in the Smithsonian. She thought of seeing it again someday and smiled. Bess walked into her office.
“Need some help in here, Linda?”
“More boxes. I am getting rid of most of this stuff. If I don’t, I risk becoming a hoarder. I will have you search out some new offices by the Park, maybe within Central Park. I don’t know what role I will play, but the Canarsee will need a headquarters.”
“First we celebrate. We have a bonfire planned at our new home. It will be tomorrow night at dusk. The cameras will be there. I hope you have plans to attend.”
“Where else would I be, Bess? We ought to show New Yorkers how to throw a peaceful and jubilant celebration.”
Bess thought for a moment if she should ask about Patch. He had done so much for the Canarsee people. She decided instead to invite him through his assistant and leave Linda out of it. It was time to celebrate and she did not want to bring up a delicate situation.
***
At home, Patch answered his personal line. It was Nadine informing him about the bonfire in the park. He thanked her for the information and they chatted briefly about her wedding plans. He instructed her to get a wedding planner immediately. He wanted her to sit back and relax, leaving the details to someone else for a change.
His phone rang again. It was bedtime, so he assumed it was Hillary.
“Hello, little princess. How is my girl tonight?” Patch asked.
“I’m good, Daddy. I am looking forward to our weekend at your sky house.”
Patch smiled at her term for the penthouse.
“Is your Mommy home with you?”
“No silly, Mommy went to Florida for a couple of days. I’m with Aunt Ruby. We’re having fun. She was away for a while but she’s back now and back to being normal Aunt Ruby,” Hillary commented.
Patch guessed that Ruby had been to rehab. He was proud of her.
“Can I speak to her?” Patch got his ex-sister-in-law on the phone.
“Hello, Ruby. Where is that sister of yours?”
“She is in Miami. She had to get a little work done on her face. I think it’s her nose this time; she will probably tell you she was in a minor car accident. I thought she told you that Hillary would be with me,” Ruby remarked.
“It must have slipped her mind. I’m sure she will slip me the bill,” Patch said sarcastically. “I am proud of you, Ruby. You have never sounded better and I know it took a lot of courage to face your demons. I think Juliet needs to fix herself on the inside like you and not worry so much about the outside.”
“I can’t do anything about my sister. Please know that your daughter is safe and happy. She is all I am concerned with.”
“I know that, Ruby. Do me a favor. Why don’t you bring Hillary to a little party I am attending tomorrow night. I think she will love it.”
Patch gave Ruby details about the celebration.
Epilogue
The bonfire was huge. It lit up the night sky, which was featuring a full moon just as it had been the night the lease was discovered. The blaze was safe under the watchful eye of the fire department. Rejoicing Indians were dancing passionately around the fire. People wore ceremonial attire complete with war paint and headdresses. It was an exotic splash of color. From a distance, it looked like a giant bird had crash-landed.
Sitting in the center of the action was Chief Woebegone. He appeared happy and serene, taking in the action with pride. Nearby was Abernathy, who was an honorary guest. One could guess that the two men had shared the peace pipe or perhaps a sip of Jim Beam.
Patch stepped from the shadows and into the light of the bonfire. He was wearing ceremonial attire; a buckskin tunic and leather pants. He did not apply war paint because he no longer had to hide, but he proudly wore his headdress. Linda Lightfoot quietly moved to his side. Words were not necessary at this point. She took his hand. Linda was wearing ceremonial attire for the first time in her life. She was dressed in a brown leather dress. A crown of feathers was on her head with a teardrop shaped bead hanging down her forehead. Patch, in his own way, had helped her embrace her heritage. She looked like a true Indian princess. He’d shown her that miracles do come true.
A pleasantly plump woman and a young girl came up to greet them.
“Hillary and Ruby, you made it!” Patch scooped his daughter up in his arms. “What do you think, sweetie. I allowed them to have their party after all.”
“Daddy!” Hillary screamed. “You didn’t tell me you knew an actual Disney princess. This is a dream come true.”
She was overjoyed. Linda bowed to Hillary. She was happy to play the part for her. After a while of cooing over their Native American outfits, Hillary and Ruby joined the dancers who were pleased to show the outsiders their culture. Then Patch spotted the little girl, Taki, who had given him the doll. She was smiling broadly. Her clothes were new and clean. She and Hillary started to dance together. Patch had brought Spike, of course, who he handed over to Hillary. It would only take moments before she had fashioned him a headdress. He barked excitedly as he soaked up the attention.
“Patch, we have begun planning the construction of new schools and housing for our people. Your administration has b
ent over backwards to help us. I believe you will be remembered as an excellent mayor having bridged the gap between the Canarsee people and the rest of New York. Thank you. To show our gratitude we have made you an honorary member of our tribe.”
Patch shrugged modestly. He looked at the dancers contorting their bodies around the open flames of the bonfire. Everyone was smiling.
“You know how to throw one hell of a party.”
Kids ran up to him tugging on his leather trousers. They still knew him as Morning Star. In his own way, Patch had fulfilled Canarsee legend, leading the tribe back to their ancestral lands.
In the crowd, Patch saw his brother Hunting Bear munching on turtle tacos with his new girlfriend. He was wearing authentic garb, looking like a true member of the Canarsee people. Also present was their friend, the skimmer, who appeared to be one of those who were happy to share Central Park.
Patch raised his voice and commanded the attention of everyone. Even the dancers stopped moving. Patch nominated Linda Lightfoot as the new and rightful Canarsee chief. Those in the council led by chief Woebegone unanimously supported the nomination. Patch leaned forward and led the chant.
“Hail to the chief.”
He looked into Linda’s perfect almond-shaped eyes and took her in his arms. He looked even deeper into them, then bowed his head to hers and kissed her passionately. The cameras were all there to capture the historical event as it unfolded under the full moon in Central Park; and they all got the bonus of capturing the start of their mayor’s great new love.
The end.
Return to the Table of Contents
GHOSTS OF THE TITANIC
An adventure novel
by
K.T. TOMB
Ghost of the Titanic
