Sandcastles Under the Christmas Moon (A Pelican Pointe Novel Book 9)

by McKeehan, Vickie

  “I bug the hell out of you because I can.”

  “I see. I’m just curious. Why don’t you use some of those special powers of yours to do something constructive, like bring on a miracle cure for Charlotte’s cancer? Or if that’s asking too much, why not intervene when Beckham’s getting the shit beat out of him?”

  “Please. Try not to confuse me with God. I don’t have the cure for cancer. But maybe in some faraway research center there’s a genius at work who’s getting close to finding it.”

  “Too late to help Charlotte.”

  “Is it that bad?”

  “You should know the answer to that. You knew she was sick. Help me understand how this works. You’ll watch from the sidelines while Beckham takes a beating from this Kyle person and opt to do nothing?”

  “I might be able to do…something.”

  “Yeah? What’s taking you so long? So far I haven’t seen you do one constructive thing to help anybody.”

  “I’m not a magician. These things take time to work out.”

  “Then you’re really nothing special. You’re just a poor pathetic restless spirit who likes to lord it over everyone else.”

  He pulled into the driveway at Bradford House and came to a stop. He threw Scott a look and flung open the car door. “Maybe you have all of eternity to sit on your ass but I have better things to do than make idle promises.”

  Twenty-Six

  Beckham asked everyone he encountered during his workday to his tribal ceremony. And when he got off work, he stopped by Sydney’s house to make sure she’d be there.

  “I wouldn’t miss it. I told you that.”

  “I know, but I had to make sure you hadn’t changed your mind. Are you and Quentin getting along better? You both seem to be getting…close.”

  “Can’t hide anything from you, can we? Does it upset you?”

  “That’s stupid. No. I want to see you two happy. Do you think my grandmother will get better?”

  How to answer? Sydney asked herself. Instead of a lie, she followed Quentin’s advice and went with honesty. “She’s undergoing the best therapy out there. It’s only her first treatment. She’ll go through another on Wednesday. And don’t get discouraged when it makes her feel crappy. That’s part of the chemo working. Why do you ask? Did she have a bad day?”

  “I think she did. Shelby let me use the phone in the office to call and check on her and Stone said she was taking a nap.”

  “Sleeping is good for the body.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “I guess Nonnie isn’t the only one who knows the right thing to say.”

  “I’m not trying to sugar-coat this stuff for you, Beckham. But no one really knows how these things will turn out. Charlotte’s particular type of cancer could have a stellar reaction to the specific drugs and she could...bounce back.”

  “But you don’t think that’ll happen, do you?”

  “How long have you known me? I never subscribe to negative vibes. I’m a nurse. I always hope for the best even in the direst situations. I’ve seen miracles happen in the ER.” She ruffled his hair. “Now you go get ready for your big night. I’ll be along soon.”

  At Bradford House, Stone and Winona decided that if Beckham became a member of the tribe then so should Charlotte. The two were going all out, treating this like the serious undertaking it was. Adopting two new members into the tribe shouldn’t be taken lightly.

  Quentin built up a bonfire and set up chairs to form a circle around it. When people started showing up, it turned out there were not enough places to sit. Landon and Shelby were there along with Caleb, Cooper, and Eastlyn. Faye and Andy had to stand in the back.

  Stone and Winona had braided their hair and wore outfits in beaded buckskin. Winona’s dress was adorned with small ornamental shells and belted at the waist.

  They wore moccasins on their feet and a headband around their foreheads.

  Charlotte had put on her best dress, the one she usually reserved for church. Beckham wore his new pair of jeans and his button-down shirt.

  The processional began at eight o’clock when Stone started out playing the flute. The serenade went on for several minutes before he handed the woodwind over to Winona who picked up the melody where he’d left off.

  Sydney was surprised to see Quentin pick up a drum. The new doctor kept perfect time with Winona’s rhythm as the melody floated out into the night.

  With the sunset behind his back, Stone began to chant. “Ho wa, ho wa, ho wa, ho wa. We are members of the Miwok tribe. We come here tonight to call on the Great Spirit to protect and cleanse us.”

  Stone paused to toss sage and sandalwood into the fire to make it flare and pop and sizzle. The sparks floated skyward. The music slowed one note at a time until there was nothing left but silence.

  Stone picked up his refrain. “We are gathered here to adopt new members into our tribe, to create a new bond that can never be broken—a true relationship that will exist here on earth and in the spirit world. We call on the Great Spirit to begin this unbreakable bond from this night onward. Going forward, there will be no questions about heritage, about ancestry. From this night on, Beckham Dowling and his grandmother, Charlotte Dowling, will be known as our true relatives, our son, brother, mother, sister, nephew, niece, grandson. We will all be members of the same tribe. We will speak to them with love and honor. They will be cherished and come to know just how important they are to our family, our community. When you receive your new names, you will take your place in our tribe as full-fledged members. You will agree to help your people in need so that no one will ever be an orphan or go hungry. You will help the sick, the injured, the less fortunate. All these things will be taught to you over the following weeks and months. Tonight, we offer a feast in your honor, one that brings us together as a unit.”

  Stone threw more sage into the fire and it flamed up and into the night sky. “Stand now, Beckham and Charlotte, and come forward. Who will stand for these two? Who will call them family, son, brother, sister, mother?”

  Quentin and Winona moved to stand on each side of Charlotte and Beckham. Quentin turned Beckham so that he could look into his face. He put his hands on Beckham’s shoulders. “From this night forward, I will call the boy my son.”

  Winona held out her hands and put them on Charlotte’s shoulders. “I will call this woman my sister.”

  Stone walked around the four chanting and waving the sage. “If anyone here has cause to object, let them state the reason now or forever remain silent.”

  There was a long pause. The only sound was the cracking and popping of the fire. “So be it. Let the naming ceremony begin.”

  Winona and Quentin led them to the jutting rocks, to stand on the natural stage with the waves crashing below them.

  Stone followed, carrying a bowl. He swiped his fingers into the soot and placed a mark on Charlotte’s forehead and then Beckham’s. Winona handed him the smoldering sage pot. He walked around the pair blowing the sage smoke on them, chanting as he went. “Who will name this boy?”

  Quentin stepped forward. “His name going forward will be Little Hawk, because he soars above the clouds of learning.”

  Stone bobbed his head in approval. “Who will name this woman?”

  Winona kept her arm around Charlotte. “I will name this one Sky Dancer, because her spirit danced on the winds of summer.”

  The medicine man nodded. “You have been given your names, do you accept them along with your duties to the tribe?”

  Little Hawk took his grandmother’s hand in his and together they answered out loud. “Yes.”

  “Then welcome to the tribe, Little Hawk and Sky Dancer. Join your true family in the spirit dance and celebrate your good fortune.”

  Stone turned to the guests. “Stand up now and gather around our family to show your support.”

  Winona picked up her flute and Quentin his drum. They played as the music wove a mystical blanket around the circle of friends.

  Stone
stepped into the ring as a slow drumbeat invited the spirits of the ancestors to join them. It seemed as if the night air moved, an electrified field charged the momentum.

  Stone handed the youth a small brown leather bag that had a circular silver disk sown on the front with an inlay of several small turquoise stones. He waved more smoking sage in the air. “This is your medicine bag. You will draw guidance from each spiritual item placed inside. The Great Spirit will see to it you keep your life on the true path. Who will give this young boy his warrior’s path?”

  Charlotte stepped into the circle, handing Beckham an arrowhead. “Your father found this along the beach as a young boy. It was his most prized possession as a child. It will be yours now and help you hold the warrior’s heart close.”

  Beckham took the arrowhead and dropped it in his bag.

  Stone clasped his hands together. “Call on this when you need the warrior’s mind and the tribe will show you the way.”

  Next, Sydney stepped into the circle and handed Beckham a small silver owl. “My sister gave me this charm for making all A’s in the second grade. May it bring you a wealth of insight and knowledge.”

  Stone waved his sage stick over the small charm to cleanse. “Call on this when you need wisdom and your ancestors will show you the true path to take.”

  Quentin moved into the circle to hand the boy a polished red stone. “My father gave me this. Nonnie gave it to him. It’s for healing. It belongs to you now.”

  Once again, the medicine man repeated the process, waving the slow-burning sage over the stone. “Call on this when you need to heal your mind or body or spirit. It will show you the way.”

  It was Winona’s turn to enter the circle. She took hold of Beckham’s hand and placed a small, odd-shaped and well-worn turquoise stone in the palm. She leaned in and whispered, “This stone has magic. It’s been handed down through the years and is said to have come from our tribe’s most sacred place in the Sierra. Use it for your protection.”

  Quentin had handed out little trinkets to the guests—beads, shells, and other colorful stones like starburst quartz, blue calcite, and lapis—that Faye, Caleb, and the others could give to Beckham and to Charlotte. The guests took turns handing off the baubles until everyone had come into the circle.

  Last, it was Buckley’s turn to wander into the ring. The pooch plopped down at Stone’s feet as if on cue. The medicine man reached down and ran his fingers over the dog, gathering a small amount of dog hair. He put the hair into the boy’s hand. “Buckley and his kind will be your animal spirit guide, for he has the heart of a wolf and the cunning ways of the coyote. You need only to look to him for your courage.”

  And with that, the shaman hung the small bag around Beckham’s neck. “Now and forever, you are a true Miwok.”

  Everyone woo-hooed and clapped their hands together.

  “Impressive ceremony,” Faye said to Beckham afterward. “We should all be so lucky to be part of the tribe. Do you feel any different?”

  “I think I do. After all, Quentin called me his son.”

  “Do you get to call him dad now?” Faye wanted to know. “Are you ready for that?”

  “I’m not sure.” Beckham noticed his grandmother wobbling, teetering on the brink of exhaustion. “Gram, do you want to go back to the house?”

  “I think I should. But get Stone to help me. I don’t want you to miss out on the party. You should bask in this moment a little longer with your new family.”

  “You’ll always be my family, Gram.”

  “I know that. No one will ever change that, Beckham. But what happened tonight is symbolic of the love that’s here, the community spirit. You’d be silly not to scoop it all up when it’s offered.”

  Stone put his arm around the woman’s shoulder. “You are one of a kind, my dear. We’ll leave Beckham to enjoy the rest of his evening. Come, I’ll help you up to the house where you can lie down and get off your feet.”

  Beckham huddled with Quentin near the fire. “How come you don’t wear your medicine bag?”

  “I used to wear it under my shirt everywhere I went. But then I went off to college. I guess I thought I was too big to bother with things like that. To my credit, though, I did pack it up with my other belongings. It always travels with me wherever I go, probably to make me feel more confident during all those times when I’m not.”

  “I’m going to wear mine all the time.”

  “Under your shirt,” Quentin cautioned. “Wear it under your shirt. Some people tend to mock the ways of others. If it’s under your shirt, you’ll know it’s there, but they won’t. It’ll be like your secret source of wisdom and power that no one else knows about but you.”

  “Last week I went to the library and looked up stuff about the Miwok tribe. I read that the White man used to kidnap little kids from their villages. Is that part true?”

  “I’m afraid it’s a sad reality.”

  “Then you should tell me everything you know about that so I’ll know everything about our history.”

  “There’s a lot of heartache to handle from the past. Are you sure you’re up to hearing it?”

  Beckham tapped his chest as he’d seen Stone do. “If I’m supposed to be a true Miwok, I have to be true in here.”

  Quentin laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “The weight of the injustices our tribe carries is vast and ugly. Once I tell you about the horrors there’s no going back.” He looked over at his grandmother. “Do you want to share what you know, what you’ve seen with your own eyes? You could probably tell it better than I ever could.”

  But Winona shook her head. “It should come from the man he admires the most. That’s you.”

  Quentin turned back to Beckham. “Okay, sit down because certain parts will make you want to go out and punch something. If you’re going to live as a Miwok, then you should know how much they’ve lost through the years. The anguish we’ve suffered throughout our history is painful.”

  Beckham’s eyes were as big as saucers when he took a seat next to Sydney.

  Quentin remained standing as he went into what was the most egregious act of all. “As most Native Americans tribes will attest, they’ve been betrayed by their own government, time and time again. Despite signing countless treaties, Natives always seem to get the short end of the stick. The Miwok tribe was no different. What became a ritual was never talked about much outside the village. What good would it do? There was no government official to turn to, no law enforcement entity that would help. I’m talking about all the children who were snatched out of their homes, taken from their families in the middle of the night, destined to be carted off to boarding schools or simply used as cheap labor to tend the fields where their captors worked them to death. The children often died young and were buried in unmarked graves. The captors would cut off all their hair and strip them of their natural way of life, taking away the customs that mean everything. The children were given numbers instead of names or in some instances the kidnappers would give them White man’s names. They were forced to live in squalor as horrible as any German concentration camp. For years, the institutional abuse abounded without anyone ever crying foul. There were no editorials in newspapers calling for the horror to stop, no outcries to get the children back, no action from the authorities to do so. Mothers and fathers were left in untold pain wondering what had happened to their babies. What horrible fate had their children encountered at the hands of the cruel people who had kidnapped them? The children certainly weren’t returned home. The outrageous acts were never dealt with, no accountability ever reported, and the parents never laid eyes on their children again.”

  “That’s horrible,” Sydney said with her arm stretched around Beckham. “That’s treating people like third-class citizens.”

  “I don’t think they thought of Natives as citizens. The White man assumed their way of life was better. They were never kind to the little children. What you need to take away from this tonight, Beckham, is that yo
u should always stand up for injustice, no matter where you see it. A true Miwok always puts his family first, always does the right thing, always prevails despite the horrors we’ve face in the past.”

  Sydney smiled up at Quentin and squeezed his hand. “Words to live by. It was a touching ceremony.”

  “Will you stay the night?”

  “I don’t know. Is there any chance I could get inducted into this tribe of yours?”

  Quentin threw his arm around her waist. “I’m sure that could be arranged if you talk to the right medicine man.”

  “Well, if all I have to do is talk…”

  Quentin swept her up in a kiss. “Staying the night gets us one step closer to spending tomorrow together, no distractions.”

  Sydney stroked a finger down his cheek. “I’ll take you however I can get you.”

  “I like seeing you two together and not fighting,” Winona admitted. She took Quentin’s hand in hers. “This one’s always been the shining light through so much of my heartbreak.”

  Quentin sat down next to his grandmother. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

  Since Beckham had given her a heads-up, she knew what was coming. “Now’s as good a time as any. What’s troubling you?”

  “Could you possibly see your way clear to staying here through Christmas?”

  Winona smiled. “You had only to ask. Besides, Stone and I want to see this place you’re turning into a hospital.”

  “I’ll take you on a tour myself. But I also want to find out who killed my father.”

  “Ah. It’s a night for considering the past, isn’t it, for soul searching, for finding answers? Losing my son, the way he died, was horrific. But as bad as it was, I remember the night the hospital called to tell me that you’d been shot. They’d already taken you into the operating room and didn’t expect you to come out. In those hours afterward, I had to relive the nightmare all over again.”

  Quentin gripped her fingers. “I’m sorry for that. But you didn’t lose me.”

  “Through those rough years without your father, we held it together on our own, didn’t we?”