Sanctified

by Maggie Blackbird

  He brushed at Rebekah’s long, glossy black hair. “Mr. Baker’s going to be Mom’s new husband soon. She’s probably a tiny bit scared, like you were scared when I told you we were going to move where Grandma and Grandpa live.”

  “Is that how it will always be, Dad? Me, you, Noah, Grandma, Grandpa, Uncle Emery, and Uncle Darryl?”

  Jude swallowed. What did he want? He clutched Rebekah tightly.

  Chapter Twenty-one: When You Gonna Tell the Truth?

  The bell above the door tinkled.

  Raven glanced up from wiping down the counter, having served two men earlier who’d left ten minutes ago. Clayton swaggered into the diner. Her blood turned to ice. Had he come back to finish spanking her like a ten-year-old?

  He plopped on a stool at the counter and turned over the coffee mug in front of him. “Mom was really upset. You gotta start showing her more respect.”

  Raven snatched the coffee pot from the burner. She filled Clayton’s mug. “She was sleeping when I got home.”

  “Yeah. You hurt her feelings.” Clayton pinched a couple of creamers from the small bowl. “She tries, y’know.” He dumped the cream into his coffee. “It’s not easy raising five kids alone. Even when Dad was alive, all he did was drink up the welfare check.”

  “Great. I’m supposed to pay because of what happened to her?” Raven set the pot back on the burner.

  “No. But start seeing things from her point of view. She told me you do nothing but cause problems.”

  “What exactly do I do? I cook, clean, and do the laundry.”

  Laundry wasn’t easy, either. They didn’t own a drier. Dryers were rare up at a reserve where hydro cost two kidneys and a liver. Even in the winter, everything had to be hung outside to dry. Then brought inside to further dry. Then ironed to remove the stiffness and wrinkles. Clayton knew how enormous the chore was.

  “It’s your attitude. It’s under your skin. And it’s crawling out. I see it. Mom sees it. What’s going on? It was always there, but not like now. It started over a month ago.”

  A month ago, she’d met Jude. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Look, we need to meet about the campaign.”

  “Yeah, the campaign. Are you in this or not?” Clayton’s narrowed eyes turned to slits. “Or am I gonna have to ask Fawn?”

  Everyone’s Mrs. Perfect. “I can do this.” Raven wasn’t giving up the diner. If she had to force people to vote for this loser, she would. With the diner, at least she could possibly sleep here, have something away from the family.

  She almost slapped her hand over her mouth. Oh my God, she’d thought of Clayton as a loser. He wasn’t a loser. He’d saved her from drugs.

  “Okay. Get over to my place tonight. For supper.” Clayton shoved away the mug. “I’ll see you then.”

  He turned and swaggered out the door.

  Raven reached inside her apron to pay for his coffee.

  Emery’s text message flashed at the back of her mind—a sure thing to win Clayton the election if she told him about what she’d read.

  She wrung her hands, glancing back and forth at the customers. Fuck! She snatched the mug and darted for the kitchen.

  * * * *

  When Jude entered the diner, he had to swerve around a few people. This place was a gold mine. At seventy-two, which was the new sixty-two, Cookie was a spry man, so the rumors of his retirement must be false.

  Although Jude had come to meet with his brother and brother-in-law, he couldn’t resist searching out Raven. She dashed from table to table, setting down plates of food. When she whipped on her heel, her gaze rested on him briefly. A half-smile cracked her lips, and he sent a clandestine grin her way. He then wound through the crowd to where Emery and Darryl sat at a back table.

  “Glad you could meet us.” Darryl wiped his mouth and set the napkin on his empty plate.

  Emery continued to work through the last of his pancakes.

  Funny how their eating even matched their personalities. Darryl always tackled his food with gusto, while Emery grazed through one side dish at a time. He’d probably already picked his way through his bacon and eggs.

  “Where’re your shadows?” Jude turned over a coffee mug.

  “Outside, running around somewhere.” Emery glanced out the window. “They came down with me in the truck. Darryl took the snowmobile to work.”

  “You have the schedule?” Darryl glanced at his empty coffee cup. “Be right back.” He rose and headed off.

  Emery slid another cut piece of pancake into his mouth.

  Jude reached into his briefcase and set the spreadsheet on the table. “I thought we should start at the senior center first.”

  “Bridget texted me.”

  “Yeah? I can imagine what she said. Pissed because you knew first? Did you tell her you found out by accident?”

  “Yes. And she broke my eardrum for not telling her.” Emery waved his fork in resignation.

  Jude could imagine Bridget’s shrieking and hollering. “Now I know how you and Darryl felt.”

  “It’s not fun having your personal life in the spotlight, hey?” About six bites of pancakes were left on Emery’s plate. He squirted a dollop of syrup over them.

  “Those have gotta be pretty soggy.”

  “They’re fine. Are you getting anything?” Using his fork, Emery pierced another bite.

  Darryl returned, carrying the coffee pot. “I think we should consider buying the diner from Cookie,” he said under his breath. “If the rumor is true about him retiring.” He filled everyone’s mugs.

  “What?” Jude had enough to juggle without owning a diner. “Where would we get the money? No bank’ll loan us a nickel, no matter if we have five-star credit ratings.”

  Darryl patted Jude’s shoulder and leaned in. “I’m talking about the new band council. I think it’s something we should promote. Think about what we could do with the profits. We could use the money to fund activities for the youth instead of always relying on government funding.”

  A rather shrewd and smart idea. Jude glanced at Emery who nodded while chewing on his food.

  “Do you want me to use it as part of the campaign?” To make a note to himself, Jude whipped out his cell phone.

  “We’d have to speak to Cookie first.” Emery wiped his mouth and pushed away his pancakes, leaving three bites left. “Maybe we could arrange a meeting?”

  “Let me talk to him. He’s manning the grill.” Darryl stood.

  “Who’d we get to cook?” Jude fixed his coffee. “If Cookie’s retiring, he won’t hang around to keep flipping burgers.”

  “Perhaps we could look at expanding to catering events, too?” This came from Emery.

  “It’d draw in more business.” Darryl swiveled on his heel. “Let me find out if he’s free tonight.”

  * * * *

  Raven used the delivery door at the diner to bring in the supplies shipped to the airport. She grabbed the dolly they kept on hand.

  Five minutes ago, when she’d pulled up, Emery and Darryl’s truck had been parked out front, which was strange, because the diner closed at ten. Mildred, who worked from two-thirty until closing should have locked up by now.

  Something was going on. Raven made sure to keep quiet, not an easy feat while hauling in chicken strips, chicken nuggets, onion rings, and French fries.

  She set the stock by one of the deep freezers and then inched toward the delivery window where Cookie set readied food orders.

  Although the lights were dimmed, voices came from the main area.

  “There’s much more we can do, besides what we already proposed. We can support other spiritual endeavors for band members.” The soft-spoken voice belonged to Emery. “Like the church. Outreach facilities for the people in—”

  “I hear ya. I hear ya.” Cookie response was jovial, as usual. “Ya know, I think it’s a great idea. But the thing is—and you can’t say anything—I already promised to
sell to someone else. If this person can come up with the money, it’s their diner.”

  Raven’s breath heaved. Stifling her gasp, she slapped her hand over her mouth. From the moment Willie had passed away, her gut instinct had been right. Darryl was hot on the campaign trail, ready to put the entire reserve under his treasonous fist.

  “When does this person have to come up with the money?”

  If Raven didn’t manage to breathe, she’d pass out, but drawing in air was impossible because the deep, authoritative tone asking about the buying deadline was Jude. To think she’d kept her trap shut tonight at Clayton’s while going over their campaign strategy.

  Knees ready to give out from under her, Raven lurched to the main island where she usually chopped vegetables. She set her hand on the island to steady her balance, but her foot caught something in the dark, which she kicked, and a clatter thundered through the kitchen, loud enough to wake every house in the Downtown area.

  “Oh geez, geez, geez,” Cookie cried out. “That’s probably Raven. She was bringing supplies from the airport after meeting with her brother at his house tonight.”

  Raven put out one mukluk to race for the back door, but footsteps scampered into the kitchen. The light flew on. She swiveled, gaping at Jude, Emery, and Darryl staring in shock, and Cookie hovering behind them.

  Hot coals settled in her stomach. “You want the diner,” she spat out and folded her arms, “then you’re gonna have to get through me. Cookie said if I came up with the money, it’s mine. Only mine.”

  Jude’s mouth fell open. Eyes bulging, Emery gaped at Darryl.

  Darryl held Raven’s stare. “You’re the buyer?” he asked, his voice slow and easy.

  Raven thrust her finger. “Damn right. And I see you’re going behind my back—”

  “We had no idea Cookie planned on selling to you until a few moments ago,” Darryl said in the same slow and easy tone.

  “Right. Yeah, right.” Raven spun on her heel. “And to think I kept my mouth shut tonight because of...”

  She faced Darryl, again thrusting her finger. “What happened to you, huh? You wanna buy this place to keep funding his church?” She pointed at Emery. “All so the band doesn’t keep going into deficit? You’re supposed to put the Anishinaabeg first, not what almost destroyed us.”

  Scrubbing at his face, Darryl sighed. “Raven, if you’d give me a chance to explain, finally listen to me instead of what your family keeps insisting I’m doing, you’ll know—”

  “Know what? That you like cruising around for male prostitutes?” Raven stumbled backward. She’d never meant to blurt out what she’d said. The words had simply vaulted from her mouth.

  Emery’s face turned up red, and his jaw slackened enough to hit the floor. Cookie sputtered. As for Darryl, he drew in his cheeks, eyes narrowed.

  “Let me... let me handle this.” Jude raised his hands, stepping between Darryl and Raven. He gazed at her. Not harshly. Simply somber. “Can we talk?”

  There was nothing to speak about. They weren’t on the same wavelength, much less the same frequency. She shook her head and stormed for the door before she said more regretful words.

  Just as she dashed from the diner’s back entrance and reached her brother’s truck—the man who’d saved her, the man she’d eaten dinner with tonight, the man she was to help after all he’d done for her—Jude’s hot breath invaded Raven’s ear.

  She clutched the driver’s side door handle. The ice-cold metal on her fingers sparked hot flames on her flesh. Wincing, she withdrew her hand and fired her burning fingers straight into the mitten.

  “Raven...” Jude’s palms held her shoulders. “Look at me. Please.”

  She huddled closer to the vehicle.

  “Please...”

  There was nothing to say. She dug into her pocket and withdrew Clayton’s truck key. When she attempted to wrench the door open, Jude swathed her in his strong embrace. She stumbled backward, hitting his chest.

  “What do you want?” Her words hissed.

  “I want you to talk to me. Please?” His usual low timbre was an octave higher.

  To be held in his arms, his voice full of pleading... Raven’s heart told her head to piss off. She huddled against his chest. Fool. She should run. But with her dream sitting at her feet, the ache in her chest demanded comfort, even if the comforter was the enemy—the one person who always kissed away the bad cuts life inflicted on her.

  She nodded.

  “I’m freezing.” His body trembled, something she hadn’t noticed until now. “If I get my coat, will you wait for me?”

  Rave again nodded.

  “Promise? Promise you won’t leave?”

  “I...” She huffed out the word. “I promise.”

  * * * *

  They rode in silence. Jude wasn’t sure about being inside Clayton’s truck, but he’d walked over to the diner for the meeting. Mom had already texted him, asking what was going on. He’d said he had to speak to someone and then he’d be home.

  Raven stared straight ahead. She stopped at the church, threw the gear into park, and pointed. “That’s what’s going to cost me my dream, huh?”

  “No, it isn’t.” Jude turned to face her.

  “I heard Emery say—”

  “You didn’t hear everything. Yes, the church is part of the plan, but not all of it. A biggie is the tight funding for recovery.”

  “Recovery?” Raven’s head jerked. “What do you mean?”

  “Darryl mentioned a lot of addicts are coming out of recovery programs but don’t have any place to stay to keep working on their recovery. He said a lot return to their same homes, places where people are still practicing... err, let’s say they’re not sober. It makes it hard—”

  “That’s true. A lot have a hard time sticking to the program when they return.”

  “I guess John Morrison, the guy in charge of recovery, tried for a sober living home at one point. Four beds. A kitchen. Living room.”

  “It’s where we hold our meetings. Down in the basement.”

  “We wanted to use profits from the diner to reopen the upstairs. The sober house.”

  When Raven’s eyes lit, the knots of tension released from Jude’s shoulders.

  “I love the idea.” She tapped her nails against her lip. “I really do. A lot fail because they don’t have the proper supports when they leave treatment.”

  “That’s all we were trying to do—figure out ways to generate money that members of the reserve can benefit from.” Jude set his hand on the console between them. “We weren’t trying to take away anyone’s dream. I wish you would’ve told me.”

  “It’s... something very personal.” Raven wet her lips. She stared at the church’s silhouette in the headlights. “I’m sure there are personal... matters... you keep to yourself.”

  Jude swallowed. He gripped his knee. “Perhaps... there are.”

  “See?” She turned her head, gaze searching his. “Now that you know one of my secrets, what’s yours?”

  “You ever hear of Job?”

  “Job who?”

  “From the Bible.”

  “I never read it. Who is he?”

  “A man...” His tongue seemed to grow thicker and larger. “A man who was completely faithful to God. Then one day the Devil challenged God. He said anyone can worship the Lord when they’re forever blessed by Him. He dared God to take everything away from Job and see if he’d still praise the Lord. In a nutshell, terrible things happened to Job after he spent his life honoring God.”

  “Your divorce? Leaving your job? Having to live up here?” Raven’s questions were slow and precise.

  “I-I...” Jude’s ears burned. Finally seeing through new eyes, he came across as a spoiled child, mad because he didn’t get his way, and spiting himself in the process. “I take the kids to church but don’t... I’m there but not there... like I used to be.”

  “So you’re g
oing through the motions.”

  Jude nodded.

  “Maybe... maybe we’ve both been behaving... um, a bit selfishly.” Raven fingered the keychain dangling from the ignition. “I acted like a little kid when I heard you guys talking. I had no right saying what I did to Darryl. I didn’t even mean to. The words jumped from my mouth.”

  “It’s okay. You had a dream. A big dream. And we almost took it from you.”

  “In the program, I’m supposed to accept what I can’t change. And change what I can.” Her lower lip quivered. “I can’t change where I live, but I can change how I react. I guess I haven’t been fully practicing my program.”

  “Hey, you told me they’re giving you a pretty rough time. It’s only natural to respond the way you did.”

  “What about you? Are you finally going to listen in church?”

  Her question punched Jude’s gut. As a hardcore traditionalist, Raven was concerned about his faith. She wasn’t telling him he deserved his misery for following an outdated religion that had no place in today’s world, or as Ojibway, he should honor his culture.

  “Raven...” He inched his hand across the console. This woman truly cared about him.

  Her gaze seemed to stroke his face.

  Jude’s heart banged against his chest. The three words sat on the tip of his tongue. What he felt had happened on its own accord. He’d gone into this simply wanting to date and instead found a wonderful gift. A wonderful treasure during his darkest time given to him by God.

  “Raven...”

  Her long lashes fluttered. “Yes?”

  Chapter Twenty-two: If You Want My Love

  The look in Jude’s eyes, the way his irises sparkled brighter than a full moon glowing luminously in the night sky, the way his lips relaxed, Raven’s hand snaked out on its own accord and gripped his fingers.