by Davis, Mary
Soon a silver sedan pulled up, and Will jumped out. “Get in. I have it warm.” He opened the passenger door.
She gratefully climbed in. “I didn’t realize it would be so cold out.”
He turned up the heat. “The cold goes right through you.” Then he drove toward the entrance of the parking lot and stopped. “We’ll wait here.”
“How will we know him? I forgot to ask what he looks like or how to recognize him.”
“He’ll probably be the only teenaged boy coming to the ferry dock alone. I think we’ll know.” He turned to face her. “If he shows up at all.”
“You think he might not come?”
“Talk is cheap. He may have had second thoughts about taking you to the family get-together.”
That was true. “Nice car. I never thought about you having one with no cars on the island. Where do you keep it?”
“It’s my mom’s. She lets me use it when I’m on the mainland.”
“Does she live here in Mackinaw City?”
He shook his head. “She lives down the coast an hour.”
“So this wasn’t convenient for you to come today?”
“I wanted to be here for you.”
“Well, thank you. I appreciate it.
Then Will said, “How old did you say Twin Bear was going to be today?”
“Seventy-eight.”
“That has to be wrong.”
“I’m sure that’s what Hayden said. Positive of it.”
“Dancing Turtle would have been turning seventy-eight today.”
“How can that be?”
“Either one of them wasn’t really turning seventy-eight today, or they are twins. It almost makes sense. If the pair of them were called Twin Bear, maybe only Dancing Turtle changed his name.”
“If they didn’t get along, I can understand my grandpa changing his name, but why didn’t Twin Bear?”
Will shook his head. “I have no clue. It doesn’t make sense to me.”
He turned toward the parking lot entrance. “That’s our boy.” He pointed to a metallic gray minivan.
“How do you know?”
“A teen boy driving the family bus. Oh yeah. That’s him.”
She and Will got out, and the van pulled up beside them. A boy, about seventeen or eighteen, got out wearing only a white-striped, button-down shirt hanging open over a white T-shirt. His shaggy black hair hung over his forehead and split slightly to reveal a triangle of forehead beneath.
“Are you Hayden?”
He nodded with a smile. “And you must be Rachel, the relative nobody wants to talk to.”
Will gripped her forearm. “You don’t have to go through with this.”
She looked up at him. “I want to.”
Will held his hand out to the boy. “I’m Will Tobin.”
The boy slapped Will’s hand, snapped, and pointed at him. “Hayden Dubois, eldest child of Gray and Pamela, first in line for. . .nothing.” He rattled it off like it was some sort of title.
She wasn’t sure what to think of him. He seemed jaded at such a young age. But somewhere inside she understood. She had felt like a nobody under her stepfathers.
“So if my grandpops and yours are brothers, then what does that make us?”
“Second cousins, I think.”
“Cool.” The breeze off Lake Huron ruffled his overshirt.
“Aren’t you cold?”
“Naw. It’s not cold. You can just follow me. That way you can leave whenever they run you off.”
Will spoke up. “You aren’t very optimistic about this meeting.”
“With my family, if they don’t stab you in the back, they will eat you alive. All verbally, of course.” He climbed back into his van.
Will held the door for Rachel to get into his car. When he climbed in, he said, “I don’t think you should go.”
“I’m sure it’s not as bad as Hayden is making it out to be. You know how kids can exaggerate.”
He shook his head and started the car. “I still don’t like this.”
They drove, following Hayden, for about a half hour east, along the northern coast of the Lower Peninsula, then exited into the town of Cheboygan.
They pulled up in front of a pale yellow house with white shutters.
Once inside, Hayden closed the door. “You can leave your coats on the railing.”
Will took her coat and put it over the railing leading upstairs with his. A wave of nervousness swept over her at the thought of meeting all these people she had longed to know before she ever knew they existed. She took a deep breath, bit her bottom lip, and stepped into the living room crowded with people.
One by one, the people in the room began to stare at the pair of newcomer strangers, and the room slowly grew quiet. Hayden walked to an old man sitting in a chair by the fireplace. It must be Twin Bear. “Happy birthday, Grandpops.”
“Humph. What’s so happy about it? I’m going to die any day now, and then you’ll all be celebrating.”
“I brought you a present.” Hayden motioned for Rachel to come over.
She walked slowly under the staring glares.
“Look, Grandpops.”
When Twin Bear’s gaze settled on her, his frown softened and his dark eyes lit up. “Charlotte? My Charlotte came back to me.”
A heavy-set woman in her forties moved closer to him. “No, Pops. I’m Charlotte.”
He waved a hand in her direction. “I know who you are.” He pointed one misshapen finger at her. “This is my Charlotte.”
Hurt shone in the woman’s eyes.
“I’m not Charlotte. My name is Rachel Coe. Your brother said I’m his granddaughter.”
He lowered his hand. “I don’t have a brother.”
“Charles Dubois. Your brother.”
Charlotte leaned over and spoke near his ear.
His frown hardened again. “Thief! That’s all you are. Don’t think that just because you are in my house you’ll get to keep it. Be gone with you. Go on. Go, before I call the police.”
Charlotte gave her a triumphant sneer. “You should leave now.”
“But you’re my family.” Wouldn’t they at least give her a chance?
“No, we’re not,” Twin Bear snarled. “Lies. It’s all lies. And I’m going to prove it and get my house back.”
He was nothing but a bitter, mean old man.
Will took her arm. “Let’s go.”
As she turned to exit the room, she caught sight of the little girl who had been outside her house. She looked up at her with big brown eyes that held no hint of animosity toward her. That was just the look she’d had in her dream.
Will guided her back to the front door helped her on with her coat.
“I can’t believe they won’t even talk to me.”
“You don’t need them.”
Hayden came up to them. “I’m proud of you, Cuz. You lasted longer than I thought. And you stood up to Grandpops.”
“Are you going to get in trouble for bringing me?”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”
Will opened the door, and they left. The cold air slapped her in the face. Her family really didn’t want her. That just seemed unreal to her.
“That was really weird. He looked just like Dancing Turtle but with a scowl,” Will said.
“So they were twins?”
Gray Dubois came out the front door swinging his coat on. “Pops and Uncle Charles grew up in that house. You should know he wants it back.”
“Can he take it from me?”
He just looked at her.
She squared her shoulders. “I’m staying in my house whether or not any of you believe I’m Charles Dubois’s granddaughter.”
He shrugged.
She turned to Will. “I don’t want to lose my house.”
“It doesn’t really matter if you are related to Dancing Turtle or not. The house belonged to him free and clear, and he gave it to you. He could have given it to the little o
ld lady from Pasadena, and no one could take it from her.”
It was good to know her house was safe. She turned back to Gray. “One more thing. Hayden said that when my grandmother left she was pregnant with one of the brothers’ baby—that would be my mom. Who is my grandfather? Charles or Lewis?”
“I really don’t know.”
“What if Lewis is really my grandfather?”
“Then my dad’s bitter existence will be that much more cruel.”
❧
Will drove her back to the ferry. “Are you sure you want to go back to the island? Mom would be happy to make room for you.”
She just wanted to be alone for a while. “I have a lot to do back at the house.” She got out of the car and walked to the handful of people waiting for the incoming ferry.
Will turned to face her. “I hate to leave you alone after that rejection.”
“You did warn me after all.” She just never imagined their rejection would be so complete. A tear slipped down her cheek. “I just thought if they could see me that maybe they would accept me.” Another tear.
Will put his arms around her and pulled her close. “I’m sorry it didn’t turn out the way you wanted.”
She leaned into him. At least someone cared. “I just wanted a family. To belong. To have a heritage.” A sob choked her last word.
“No one can take your heritage away from you.”
She cried against his coat for a minute. “How could they not want part of their family?”
“They’ve been hurt.”
“So they hurt others?”
“Sometimes people do that.” He leaned slightly away from her to look her in the face but kept his arms around her. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
The compassion in his eyes told her that he truly was. The concern quickly turned to longing, and he lowered his head toward hers.
Just as his lips were about to touch hers, she pushed away. “That’s not going to help anything.” She could see disappointment in his eyes.
“I could return Mom’s car and head back to the island myself so you won’t be alone.”
“I may not even stay on the island over the holidays.” She wasn’t sure why she said that. She just didn’t want Will to ruin his holiday because of her, didn’t want to deny him his family because she had none. She didn’t know what she was going to do. Maybe she would go back to Boston. “You go back to your mom’s, and I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll call you tonight and see how you are doing.”
“Will, you are not responsible for me. Don’t go changing your life for me.”
“Can’t I be concerned about a friend?”
“Friend?”
He nodded. “Sure. Just friends.” Then he dug a piece of paper out of his coat pocket and wrote something on the back. “Here’s my mom’s number. If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to call.”
“I can’t do this right now.”
He still held the paper. “Can’t do what?”
“Whatever it is we are doing here—this back-and-forth thing. I don’t want you to think there is something going on between us. I need to sort out my feelings about Christopher and being Native American.” She sighed. “And my family not wanting anything to do with me. I can’t be worrying about what is going on between us, too. I just need some time.”
He put the paper in her hand and wrapped her fingers around it. “I just want to be your friend, in whatever capacity you need me. I promise I won’t try to push beyond that. Just friends.”
He was being friendly, but she sensed it was more than friends he wanted to be. She didn’t want to deal with that right now, so she just nodded.
❧
That evening, Rachel sat on her couch with her knees held tightly to her chest alone and lonely. Lori and her husband had left the island to visit Garth’s family for the Christmas holiday. Will was gone visiting family over his break. The only family she had didn’t want anything to do with her. Except for maybe Hayden, but he was just a kid. Will had warned her, but still she had hoped.
God, if You really do exist, why did You make me this way? Why do I have to be part Native American? My life was so simple before.
She let the tears fall. Suddenly she sat up straight and forced her tears to cease. She could tell Christopher she had reconsidered. Had come to her senses. She walked to her bedroom and slipped on her engagement ring. If her family here didn’t want her, she would go where she was wanted.
She went to the phone. She held the receiver in her hand and stared at the buttons. What should she say? She didn’t know. Maybe it would be best just to let the words come. But all she could do was stare at the numbers. Her family may not want her, but truthfully, she didn’t want to go back to Christopher either. She hung up the phone and took off the ring.
She looked at the bag by the entry table that had the Bible in it that Will had given her. She took it out of the bag and set it on the empty coffee table, then stared at it. What possible good could reading it do?
She stood and walked around her cozy little living room. The heap of papers she had quickly scooped up when Christopher had dropped in still lay in a mess in the chair.
She hadn’t been up to sorting through any more of the information her grandfather had collected after Christopher had come. . .and left her. It all seemed useless anyway. None of it seemed to be important and nothing connected. What was the point to any of it? If she only had a rough sketch of her family tree, she might be able to begin to put some of the pieces together. Right now it seemed as though each piece went to a different puzzle. Why couldn’t her grandfather have been more organized?
If she was ever going to get the answers she sought, she would need to dive back into it, but she just didn’t feel like it right now.
She picked up the Bible and curled up on the couch. She didn’t believe in the Bible or a personal God. Maybe some all-powerful being out there watched her squirm like a bug under a microscope—a being that would demand perfection from her.
There was a sticky note sticking out from the side of the Bible that said, Start here. Start in the middle? She opened up to that place, and on the hidden part of the sticky note it said, Read the book of John.
Okay, Will. I’ll read this, but it won’t change my mind.
She stood and took the Bible to her room and dressed for bed. She always preferred reading in bed. Once all snuggled beneath the covers, she opened the Bible again and read about a charismatic man who only had to ask and men followed him without concern to their former life. A man who performed miracle after miracle and never did anything wrong. A good man. An innocent man who died a senseless death.
She slammed the book shut when Jesus gave up His Spirit on the cross. “He died! How unfair was that?” Somewhere in the back of her memory, she’d learned that He was crucified, but this was such an awful and brutal death. She wasn’t reading another word. Make her care about this man then let him die like that!
She put the Bible aside and turned off the light. She punched her pillow. What was the point in believing in some great man if he was dead? How could that help her? Jesus did everything right, and God just let Him die.
She jerked the chain on the lamp beside her bed and sat up, glaring at the Bible. “God—if You exist—why would You let Your Son die? I don’t understand.” She flipped open the Bible to the beginning of John. Will had highlighted a few verses throughout the book. There was one in particular she wanted to find again. She didn’t have far to go when she found it, chapter three verse sixteen.
“For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.”
“How come Jesus had to perish, but You would give me eternal life? He was Your only Son!”
She flipped through more pages until she found the spot where Jesus said He was going to prepare a place and He would come back to get the men who had been with Him. Was this some sort of after
life? Maybe Jesus didn’t really die.
She flipped back to the place where Jesus died and continued reading. Just as Jesus had said to His men that they would mourn and then have joy, she felt joy when Jesus rose from the dead.
His resurrection was different from the resurrections of Lazarus and the girl whom Jesus had raised from the dead. While they were brought back to life as a testimony to Jesus’ power, they later faced physical death again. If Rachel interpreted what she had read correctly, Jesus had conquered death forever—both physically and spiritually.
How could Will’s God love her when no one else could? How could an all-powerful perfect being love someone imperfect like her? Maybe when she fixed herself and got herself perfect, the God who would give up His Son for her could accept her.
❧
A week and a half later, Rachel wished she had taken the Bible Will had given her with her back to her Boston apartment. Though the passages he marked were confusing, somehow they were also comforting. She had given her notice to her landlord, and he was able to rent the apartment to another tenant as soon as she could get her things moved out.
She was almost through and had just taped the last box to go to charity, when the doorbell rang. She was surprised to see Christopher’s mother on the other side of her door. “Emma. Would you like to come in?” Not that she thought she would.
Emma smiled and stepped inside.
Both gestures surprised her. “Would you like something to drink? I only have bottled water.”
“No, I’m fine, dear.” Emma took off her sable fur coat and draped it over a stack of boxes. “So you are really leaving.”
“There’s no point in me having two places.”
“So that’s all there is to it?”
Huh?
“I’ve come on behalf of Christopher. He’s been a wreck since you left, like a lost little kitten. What can we do to get you to reconsider?”
“Reconsider? Exactly what did Christopher tell you about our break up?”
“That there was some misunderstanding about the house you inherited.”
“Misunderstanding? No. Everything is quite clear.” Poor Christopher. He still hadn’t told his parents. He couldn’t admit that she was part Native American, Ojibwa—couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud. Well, she would do what he couldn’t admit. “My grandfather who left me the house was Ojibwa.”
