Sanctified

by Maggie Blackbird

  “I enjoy it.” The sight of dirt, after living in it for so long, made Raven’s stomach queasy. Filth, even a smidgen of something not put in its proper place, produced an itch on her skin.

  “If I was forty years older, I’d marry you, sweetie. Keep your apartment at the senior center super-clean. Make sure you’re fed each night...” She shook her hips.

  “Ho, ho, ho.” Cookie threw back his head, laughing. “Always make me smile. But I’ll take you as a daughter.”

  Raven giggled. She pecked his cheek, then reached into the deep freezer to retrieve the chicken strips someone wanted to eat at nine in the morning.

  “And that’s why I wanna...” Cookie placed his chubby finger over his skinny lips. “It stays between us.”

  “Gotcha.” Raven twisted a pretend key at her mouth to seal the imaginary lock. She set the chicken strips into the deep fryer.

  “... sell you Kiss the Cook.”

  It was a good thing she’d performed her task first, or she would’ve dumped the order into the fryer, splashing hot grease over herself.

  Kiss the Cook? The gold mine of Ottertail Lake? The place where everyone had been gathering for over thirty years after Cookie had sobered up? But for Raven to secure a place like this, she’d for sure need her brother to become chief during April’s election, and that meant making sure Darryl Keejik didn’t win—no matter what.

  Chapter Two: Something Better

  The pile of books came crashing down from the shelf in the study. Jude bolted out of the way. He growled. Even though he had thirty days to vacate his sanctuary, packing came slowly. Now he had another mess to clean.

  He plopped in the chair and faced the French doors leading to the empty deck and snow-covered pool. There also went his children’s sanctuary, a once-favorite family spot, since their should-have-been forever home had sold after finally putting it on the market three months earlier.

  Downsizing. He’d looked at houses in Bridget’s neighborhood. At least something good had come out of his divorce. Last year, his sister and brother-in-law had bought a great three-bedroom bungalow over on Dalhousie Drive. Noah and Rebekah could walk to school and chill with Kyle, Bridget’s adopted and her husband’s biological son. There was also a great park for the kids to play at.

  Walking to work was great exercise, since the school was right there on Redwood Avenue.

  Jude’s gut blackened. At least the pitiful glances had stopped from his staff, the people at church, members of the Catholic Men’s Association, and acquaintances from the golf course and curling rink. He didn’t need anyone’s pity.

  His landline rang. Dad. Without looking at the call display, Jude picked up the cordless. “Hey.”

  “How’re you?” Dad cleared his throat.

  “S’okay. How about you? You’re the one filling in when you’re retired.”

  “I don’t mind. I’m more concerned about Willie’s family.”

  “Yeah, that’s too bad. Heart attack, hey?” Jude turned the chair.

  “Yes.” Dad heaved a big breath.

  “What is it?” Jude stuck the end of the pen into his mouth and planted his feet on the desk. He crossed his legs at the ankles.

  “You know, sometimes the Lord is speaking to us, but we don’t hear Him, because we’re too busy looking and listening elsewhere.”

  “I’m still going to church. I’m still a member of the Catholic Men’s Association. I’m still on the pastoral council. Charlene’s the one who’s initiating the annulment, not me. I assume she’ll start the proceedings now.”

  “This isn’t about attending Mass or supporting honorable causes. This is about daily reflections with our Lord.”

  “I’m praying every morning, Dad.” A lie, but Jude made sure to add a dash of conviction to his words. He crumpled a ball of paper and fired it at the empty pen mug, since he’d already packed away his putter and pro-putter machine. The paper was a ringer. He shoots, he scores.

  “Prayer sometimes isn’t enough.” Dad’s tone altered from authoritative to gentle, but a hint of commanding remained. “We must contemplate what He exactly wants and discern the right direction He wishes for us to take. I faced complete distress after He called me home when you and Bridget were almost finished high school. The heartbreak your mother and I faced having to leave you in Thunder Bay with Aunt Patti and Uncle Robert.”

  “Dad, the Lord called. You went. Bridget and I were fine.” Jude aimed his fountain pen at the mug. The pen rolled across the mahogany desk—his pride and joy—and hit the hardwood floor.

  “We are without a principal. This is why we had the education institute provide the teachers program up here. Because teachers not from the community kept leaving. Only those from here will stay.”

  Jude sat up. His feet hit the throw rug surrounding the desk. This was perfect. Why hadn’t he thought of this sooner? The principal’s job was his chance to leave Thunder Bay. Leave this house. Leave a job that served the Lord who’d turned his life into a disgraced mess. “I see...”

  “You were thinking about it?”

  “Err... yes... I was.”

  “Really? I didn’t think you were. You should have told me.”

  “I only recently found out. Perhaps the Lord wants me home.” Jude tried not to snort aloud at His Holiness’s name. “I have thirty days to vacate the house. It’s enough time to provide notice at the school.” A school geared toward a God that didn’t deserve any notice.

  Dad again cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. So sorry for what happened. You’re a good man. I’m thankful you have the children. If you need to talk—”

  “They’ll be okay.” Again, Jude’s gut blackened. He had to speak to Bridget.

  Jude waited for his sister in his study. He ran his fingers along the mahogany desk, another something he’d sell, because there’d be no room in Ottertail Lake to accommodate anything in his study. The kids would lose their haven, too—the family room. But they’d have a lake to swim in, new places to play, a rec center to go to.

  The front door opened and closed, followed by the walk-in closet door opening and closing. Footsteps scampered to the family room. Kyle was no doubt searching out Noah and Rebekah. Heels clicked against the hardwood floor.

  His sister appeared in the double-door entrance, frowning. “What’s going on?”

  Jude used his chin to point at the side table. “Coffee? I picked up a packet of Reggie’s decaf last night for you and the little one. It’s freshly brewed.”

  Bridget stamped to the table. “Reggie’s? Seriously? I’m not going to like this, am I?”

  Again, this was Charlene’s fault. If she hadn’t humiliated him and stolen his faith, he wouldn’t be leaving. Fingers seemed to curl around Jude’s heart, squeezing.

  “This isn’t easy for me.” How could he leave his other half behind? Bridget was more than his sister. She was a part of him, as if they’d grown in Mom’s womb together and divided the egg to share for the rest of their lives.

  Bridget fixed her coffee. Hand trembling, she sat on the edge of the chair facing the desk. “What’s going on?”

  Jude sucked in a deep breath and folded his hands on the desk. “I’m moving.”

  “Oh? That’s why you scared me half to death? Your text frightened me into next week.” Bridget’s tone was scolding but also impish. She plopped in the chair.

  “Fort William or Port Arthur?” she asked, referring to the city’s two major neighborhoods, once separate municipalities.

  “Neither.” Jude had to force the word from his mouth.

  Bridget clicked her long nails on the small table beside the armchair. “I see. I see.” For a moment, thunder clouds gathered in her dark eyes, then the corners wilted. She stared beyond the desk to the French doors.

  “You’re taking the principal’s job, aren’t you?” Her voice was small, which was rare, because nothing sent his sister scuttling to a corner.

  Jude’s abs
contracted, as if someone had punched his gut. He licked his lips. “I’m sorry.”

  “No. No. Don’t be sorry.” Bridget kept speaking in a small voice, head bowed. “I get it. I do. What she did...” Her brown skin with red undertones whitened. “Fucking bitch—”

  “Whoa. Easy.” Jude hadn’t heard her use this kind of language.

  Bridget looked up through hate-filled eyes. “Well, she sure didn’t think of anyone but herself. She didn’t think about the kids. She didn’t think about you. She didn’t think about the life you two built together. Ever since she left, I’ve been playing surrogate mother to Becky and Noah.”

  “I know. It’s tough. Y’see, leaving’s for the best. Mom and Dad are there. Mom’ll watch them after school. It’s what they need right now. There’re too many memories here for them. Too many memories for me.”

  Bridget brushed at a lock of her long, black hair. “I wish I could spend more time here, but my schedule’s so—”

  “Don’t.” Jude raised his finger. “The kids are my responsibility. You have a family of your own. And it’s growing.” He motioned at her belly, where her unborn daughter was growing.

  “I understand. I do.” She set aside the mug. “Did you already give notice?”

  “No. But I’m working on my letter.” He pointed at the laptop. “I’m emailing it to Sam tomorrow.”

  “Oh geez.” Bridget sagged in the chair. “Sam’s retiring in two years. You wanted to be the next Superintendent of Education.”

  More than the Superintendent of Education. In time, Jude had planned on working one more step up to the ultimate position—Director of Education.

  “I can’t...” As tempting as both jobs were, what man wanted to stick around when everyone knew his Catholic wife had cheated on him and then had left him for a colleague?

  Jude picked up his coffee mug. “I already talked to Dad. I wanted you to know right away.”

  “She’s not even here anymore.” Bridget thrust her free hand outward, palm up. “She’s in Kenora. Tons of women at the university have been asking me—”

  “Nope. Don’t go there.” Jude raised his own hand. “I just got divorced. I don’t want any blind dates—”

  “I wasn’t going to set you up on a blind date.” Bridget made a face. “And it’s been over a year since you two separated, more than enough time to—”

  “Not interested.” He sipped his coffee. “Anyway, there’s stuff I won’t be able to take with me.” Shit, a lot of stuff. “The house they have for the principal is about twelve-hundred square feet, or smaller. I’ll have to sell some furnishings, but what I don’t sell, I want you to have, or Adam can have, or Kyle can have...”

  * * * *

  Cookie flipped over the closed sign and locked the door.

  Raven couldn’t help cupping and un-cupping her coffee mug.

  “Well, well, well... finally a break.” He drew out the chair and sat. “So, what’d you think of my offer?”

  “I’d love to, but how am I gonna get the cash?” No bank loaned band members money for a business based on the reserve. “I guess I could check around and see what kind of funding’s available. How’d you go about getting the diner set up?”

  “It’s not available anymore, but the feds were offering a program to support Indigenous businesses. An interest-free loan.”

  “I s’pose I could ask Clayton if there are any kind of programs like that now.” Then there was the economic development officer, who might have some leads.

  “Why the sagging shoulders? It’ll happen.” Cookie slurped his tea.

  Because sleeping with men was the only way Raven had gotten anything she’d wanted, and now she had to rely on her brains. She crumbled the napkin in her hand. “I hope so.”

  “Hey, lookit the chance the funders took on me. I had to get the band to write me a letter of recommendation. You can, too.”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  “Sure. Think it over. I think this place’ll be perfect for you.”

  “I’m going to recommend Joe remain deputy chief.” Clayton stood outside the chief’s house, puffing on a cigarette.

  Raven stamped her feet. Even with long underwear and mukluks, and the pine trees offering protection from the January north wind, the cold still seeped through her parka and jeans. She should have worn snow pants. “Why?”

  “The election’s in April. I need to campaign. Devote my time to winning. The first thing I’m gonna do as chief is take back the Traditionalists Society. It’s ours. It belongs to the Kabatays.”

  Her brother should. As a founding member, he’d worked hard to develop a group intent on following their culture in every aspect of their lives. Darryl Keejik had no right serving as chairperson. And she’d championed Clayton for walking away from what he’d formed after Darryl had manipulated The Traditionalists Society into accepting the church in the community.

  “What were you meeting with Cookie about? He gonna finally put a stop to the rumors about his retirement?”

  There was her opening. “He’s retiring.”

  “He is?” Clayton puffed on the smoke again, his beady eyes studying her. “Who’s he selling the place to? It’s a gold mine.”

  “If I can come up with the money—me.” Raven rubbed her shivering arms. “Nobody’s gonna loan me money. It’s not like the bank can come on the reserve and seize the diner. And I sure don’t have any kind of credit rating...”

  Clayton’s slim lips spread into a wide grin, the first true grin Raven had seen in a long time after the Matawapits and their church had screwed up his plans for the reserve. “I need a campaign manager.”

  He set his palm on Raven’s shoulder. “You do this for me, I’ll more than guarantee you the diner if you make sure I get in as chief.”

  Raven’s stomach somersaulted. This was the reason for her adult education classes and why she studied so hard.

  “Oh my gosh, I don’t know what to say.” She sputtered.

  “Say yes.” Clayton’s grin always resembled a coyote on the prowl, ready to attack.

  “Yes. I’ll do it.”

  “Remember, I need to win.” Clayton thrust his finger.

  Raven drew back. Pointing was a grave offense, highly rude. “I won’t fail. I’ll make sure you have the best campaign possible.”

  “I mean whatever it takes. Are you ready to go that far?”

  “Yes.” She’d stop at nothing for her brother to become chief and the chairperson for the Traditionalists Society again.

  They’d both get what they wanted. He’d rule the reserve as a chief should—dedicating his efforts to making Ottertail Lake a true Anishinaabe community, and only Anishinaabe. And she’d finally gain some respect, instead of sneers from Mom, her sisters, and the community.

  * * * *

  Jude set out the plates on the table. He’d made sure to order the kids’ favorite treat—Romeo’s Pizza, the best in Thunder Bay, homemade crust and Romeo’s secret family sauce. There was cheesecake for dessert he’d picked up at The Bistro after work. Pop, another treat, was chilled and ready for drinking. Rebekah loved orange, and Noah adored root beer.

  He’d spent the week contemplating, but no matter how many times he assessed the pros and cons, the school needed a principal—one who wouldn’t leave. The children needed a principal—one dedicated to his job, not present to gain work experience for a résumé like all outsiders did, putting in their obligatory year and then splitting.

  If Dad could pack up and leave, so could Jude. Emery had done just fine in his new environment at age eight. So would Rebekah and Noah, who’d turn eight and nine this coming spring and summer.

  “Noah. Becky. Dinner. It’s a surprise.”

  The kids scampered from the family room and into the dining room.

  Jude sat. After they ate, he’d tell them they were moving to Ottertail Lake.

  Chapter Three: Singing the Blues

  Jude thr
ew up his arms as he surveyed his new house. Talk about downsizing. He’d gone from a castle to a wigwam.

  At least while he’d been in Thunder Bay transporting his belongings to the reserve with the help of Darryl, Emery, and Dad, Mom hadn’t had much to scrub from top to bottom in the twelve-hundred square foot, three-bedroom, pre-packaged home.

  Leaving his job early had been a must in order to use the winter road, because he’d refused to fly in their belongings. Too expensive. Praise Father Arnold for his letter to the Catholic School Board, urging them to accept an early resignation from Jude so he could leave to answer the Lord’s call. A lie. But it’d worked in his favor.

  The first week of February. And he was in Ottertail Lake. Noah and Rebekah remained in the city at Bridget’s place. When Emery and Jude returned the U-Hauls, they’d retrieve his truck and send the kids in on the plane.

  “I made the right decision,” he said to the white walls needing a new coat of paint.

  “If you think you did, then you did.”

  Jude whipped on his heel at Emery lounging in the back doorway. “I thought everyone left.”

  “Mom and Dad did. I told Darryl to come and get me.” Emery pointed at the year-old dining set Jude had carted from the house because Charlene had taken the original one after they’d separated, an antique set belonging to her great-grandmother.

  Jude had also brought the bedroom, kitchen, and family room furniture. All the essentials for a home. Even a shitload of groceries, and the deep freezer he kept on the supposed back deck because there was no room inside.

  “Want some black tea?” Emery sidled up to the chipped and stained kitchen counter. Even the one measly row of four cabinets required a refurbishing.