Adrift in the Sound (26 page)

“Good to meet you, man, but we gotta go.” Rocket said, putting his hand on Lizette’s elbow, nudging her toward the car.

“Headed to the ranch?” Raven said. Rocket nodded. “Tell my Dad I’ll be out there in a while. We’re finishing apple harvest. A lot to do, man. I think Marian’s away right now on a birth. How long you staying?”

Rocket shrugged, put the bag on the front seat, got in, and slammed the door. Lizette waved to Raven and slipped in beside Rocket. When they got to the ranch, the barn door stood open and she knew Poland was already out working in the orchard.

“We can unpack later,” she said. “I’ll be down at the cabin. Tell me when Marian gets here.”

“Will do. I’m gonna hit the sack.”

She unlocked the cabin and stood inside, holding Violet and feeling weary, glad to be home, as if she’d been on a long, hard journey. She put her on the cot and got the wooden crate she’d used to nurse Tucker after the orca attack. She tapped it on the porch to clear the dust and bugs, wiped it out with a rag. She snapped fresh cedar boughs from low hanging limbs and layered them inside. She folded Violet’s blankets and gently lifted the sleeping baby into the box.

She went to her canvases, tilted them away from the wall, counted, tried to remember how many there had been, couldn’t recall. One of her favorite paintings, spring flowers in the bog near Olga was gone, and she despaired that it wasn’t finished, that it was out there alone, unprotected. Mad as she was, she figured a complete inventory could be done tomorrow and shook out her sleeping bag, settled into the cot. Its familiar sag embraced her as she watched the water’s light dance across the ceiling. A shadow made her sit up and hug her knees and look out the window. A long black fin cut the water’s surface, then two more. They skimmed through the chop in formation, hunting. She shuddered and lay down, thought about wildflowers—yarrow, mayweed and wooly pussytoes—and fairies dancing.

TWENTY–EIGHT

“ELIZABETH!”
Poland stood over her, looking amused. “Wake up, sleepy bear. What you doing in bed? You sick?” She rolled out of the cot, checked Violet, offered a wan smile.

“We slept in the car last night. In Anacortes. Missed the ferry.” She stretched, arms reaching overhead. Missed the first one this morning, too.”

“Dreaming about snakes?” He had a miffed tone in his voice.

“Snakes?”

“Abaya saw it on the TV news. The guy that got squeezed to death. In the house where you were staying. Marian has been calling you every half hour, worried sick. She had a bad birth last night, almost lost the baby. Hippies from San Francisco. Living in a broke down school bus parked in the bushes at Massacre Bay. Finally, she took them to the hospital in Bellingham this morning. It’s closer than Seattle and she wanted the baby checked right away. Just got back.” He stepped to the box by the cot, peeked at Violet. “Marian wants to see you and this little butterfly. We’re fixing lunch. Raven’s here. Come on.”

She heard excitement in his voice, but Violet was still sleeping and she felt like a mess. “I’ll be up in a while. Is Marian back?”

“I already told you that. And, I picked fruit, just for you.” She was surprised to hear begging in his voice and sensed the lunch gathering was important to him. “Abaya brought smoked salmon and sex cake.”

“Sex cake?”

“Yeah. Her old cousin. Susie Two Deer. The shriveled one who lives at Doe Bay?” He checked her face to see if she remembered. Lizette said sure, but couldn’t recall. “She made it. Calls it ‘Better than Sex cake.’” He laughed. “Her memory never was too good, that girl.”

“That’s so sweet of you and Abaya. I’ll get cleaned up.” She stretched and looked longingly at her cot. “The baby’s still sleeping. Where’s Rocket?”

“Don’t know.” He shrugged, threw up his hands. “Didn’t see him. Raven says he was drinking beer before breakfast.”

“We saw Raven at Orcas Landing, by the village store. What’s the canoe stuff about? They looked beautiful on the water. Smooth and fast. I loved that.”

“Didn’t start like that.” He chuckled. “First time they went out, the canoe went in circles,” he pointed his finger down and rotated his wrist. “All crazy, and a guy fell overboard, almost drowned. Bunch of lazy bones. Didn’t know what they were doing. Then one of the old guys came over from the rez, gave ’em a few lessons. Raven don’t drink now. Stopped. But, all he talks about is the American Indian Movement and dignity for his people, like he just found out who we are.”

“He’ll settle down,” Lizette said and yawned.

“Yeah, I guess so. Vietnam’s over. Time to go home, get to work.”

“He said he’s working with you.”

“When he’s not busy building what he calls
community
. Like we’re not together or something. They built that hunting canoe. It’s a big one. Raven says he’s going back to his people’s ways. I tell him he’s going crazy … He gets these guys up in the dark and they go out and paddle around and don’t catch any fish, waste time. Lift weights like that TV guy Jack LaLanne. I never knew no Indians who lifted weights. The ones I know work.”

He pasted a look of disbelief on his face, but she felt his pride for Raven.

“When they come back from canoeing, they’re too tired to get drunk. That’s better, but it still don’t get things done. I got a couple of ’em working out here with the sheep, don’t know a ewe from a ram.”

“Are they going to race or something?” She sat on the wobbly stool, its irregular balance familiar.

“Nah. Just paddle around like kids. Now they say they’re going to paddle up to Bella Bella, meet Heiltsuk people in British Columbia, camp on the beaches. Have a ceremony with the tribes up there. Maybe Abaya and me’ll drive up for that, if my old truck can make it.”

“Sounds like fun,” Lizette said, tired of his chatter.

“She has cousins up there. She has cousins everywhere, that girl.” Lizette grinned at him, at his presence filling the cabin, puffing the air with enthusiasm. “Having Raven back makes her young again.”

He sidestepped like a nervous horse, shifted foot to foot. “Always laughing now. But we’re having the potlatch in about a month, beginning of October, before the storms come. Too much to do. Maybe we won’t go. Raven can bring them back here for the gathering.”

Finally, she stood and hugged him. “I need to do some things before I come up. OK?” She eased him out the door. “I’ll hurry,” shut it, rolled her eyes, the air still bubbling with his spirit. She brushed her tangled hair, laid out fresh clothes for the baby, tidied until she woke, checked out the window for the hunters.

Violet yowled as they headed to the house, empty baby bottles clanking at the bottom of her canvas bag. By the time Lizette burst into the kitchen, Violet’s crying had become full blown. The baby pulled up her knees, stretched her body, demanded. Abaya leapt to Lizette’s side, took Violet, pulled the blanket away from her face.

“Looks like a dove, cries like an eagle.” Abaya whirled Violet around in the middle of the kitchen. She cried louder. Marian came in and crowded Abaya to get her hands on Violet.

Rocket stood bleary-eyed in the doorway by the hall. “What’s going on? Somebody get killed? Kid’s screeching like an owl.”

“She’s hungry,” Lizette said. Poland took Violet and waltzed her into the living room, spoke secrets into the downy hair on top of her head. She quieted, but Lizette kept an eye on the two of them, rocking in front of the big window, ready to swoop in for a rescue. Rocket sat in the wing chair in the living room and watched.

“Got coffee?” Rocket said into the kitchen.

“Come and get it,” Marian said. “Pot’s ready.”

Lizette took a mug from the cupboard, splashed milk into it, added two spoonfuls of sugar, poured coffee into it. Marian frowned as she took the mug to Rocket and set it on the side table, not caring what Marian thought about the new roles for women. Lizette pulled empty baby bottles from her bag. “Get that filthy bag off the table,” Marian snapped. “Give me the bottles. They need to be sterilized or Violet will have thrush.” She ripped the rubber nipples from their rings, ran hot water over them, filled a small pan and put it on the stove’s back burner. “These need to be boiled, so do the bottles.” She dried her hands on a dish towel.

“Grouchy?” Lizette said

“Long night, long morning.” Marian took dishes down, jumbled them on the table. “Hippie kids. I never saw them before last night. The guy thought he was going to deliver the baby himself, cut the umbilical cord with his teeth, eat the placenta. Sheriff got me in the middle of the night. Somebody living nearby heard the girl screaming, called for help.”

“Was it a boy or girl?” Lizette asked.

“Boy. On the small side. And it didn’t look like she’d expelled the placenta completely. I recommended a D and C. Infection risk’s too high. Just a couple of scared, stupid kids. They called the girl’s mother. She’s flying up from Los Angeles.”

Raven burst in the back door, smelling of tractor grease and grass. “What’s to eat?” Poland carried Violet in from the living room to greet him. Raven pulled the blanket aside, grinned into Violet’s face. “Amazing eyes!” Abaya smiled, danced up to him.

“Good salmon for lunch,” she said, pulling on Raven’s sleeve so he’d lower his cheek for a kiss.

Marian ripped lettuce into a big bowl, chopped tomatoes and green onions, scraped them into the salad. She doused it with vinegar dressing, cracked pepper over it, dumped in some canned olives, slammed it on the table. Abaya sliced bread. Poland handed Violet back to Lizette and arranged chairs around the table. Lizette took the baby with a bottle to Rocket who was nodding out in the wing chair, stopped.
Dope
, Lizette thought, irritated, and deposited Violet on the couch, stuffed pillows around her, and she immediately started fussing. She retrieved Violet and sat in a corner chair at the table, the baby sucking hard on her bottle.

“How old is she?” Raven asked.

“Almost five months,” Lizette said, looking wondrously into Violet’s face.

“She needs immunizations.” Marian sat beside her, visually examining Violet. “Has she had any well-baby checks?” Lizette shook her head, felt scolded, prepared for a lecture.

“You’re putting this baby at risk,” Marian said, her tone cutting. “I’m not going to stand by and watch you … “

“I’m taking good care of her,” Lizette said, defiantly. “Look at her. You can see that. She’s fine with me.”

“You can’t just take somebody else’s baby!” Marian slammed her open hand on the table, startled Violet, got up, turned her back. Abaya came to Marian, tried to put an arm around her. She pushed it away. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in the past few years, you know that. Not playing by the rules, ignoring problems, but you can’t … “

“Can’t what?” Lizette shot back.

“Let’s eat,” Abaya said and turned to get the platter with thin salmon slices fanned on it.

“Can I help?” Raven asked. Abaya shooed him away, opened the refrigerator, pulled out a pitcher of lemonade.

Poland called into the living room, “You coming, Rocket man?”

“Yo,” Rocket answered in a sleepy voice. He shuffled in and slipped into a chair on the narrow side of the table, sitting with his back to the windows. Poland settled at the head of the table, Lizette already seated next to him, opposite Rocket. Abaya took the chair at the foot of the table. Marian and Raven filled out the other sides. Abaya reached out and covered Raven’s hand with her own.

“Look, we have to figure out … “ Marian said, glanced around the table. “What’re we going to do about Violet?”

Lizette interrupted. “Can’t this wait?”

“No.” Marian snapped. “We’ve got somebody else’s kid. We don’t know where the mother is. Nobody’s stepping up to claim they’re the father.” She looked at Rocket in disgust. “You can’t just drag this baby around. People will ask questions. I have a license, a ranch to protect.”

“Sandy’s in Mexico, headed for South America. Colombia, I think,” Lizette said, wiping Violet’s mouth with the edge of her blanket. Rocket stiffened, paid attention.

“How do you know?” he said

“Sandy sent a postcard.”

“What did she say?” Marian tore a bite out of a piece of bread, studied Lizette while she chewed.

“She said ‘Stay dry.’” Lizette glared at her, thought,
take your shot
. “It doesn’t matter where she is if she’s not here. What do you think should happen? Put her in an orphanage? That is not going to happen. I won’t stand for it. I don’t care what you say. I don’t care about your god dammed ranch and your nursing degree. You’re no better than … “

“Please pass the salmon,” Raven interrupted, reaching out his hand. “Did everybody get salad?” He put a couple of strips of salmon on a slice of bread smeared with cream cheese.

“We have cake for desert,” Abaya added hopefully, looking around the table. “Lemonade?” She lifted the pitcher, poured herself a glass.

“I know how to fix this problem,” Lizette said, looking squarely at Marian, defying her.

“OK. How? Are you and Violet heading for Bogotá?”

“No,” Lizette said flatly and paused. She waited until everyone was looking at her. “Rocket’s going to sign the birth certificate. I have it with me. You already signed when Violet was born,” she said to Marian, whose eyes got big. “Sandy just left it lying around, never did anything about it. We’ll register the birth with the county, use Rocket’s and my name.”

“The hell I am!” Rocket said and shoved the table. “I’m not moving to fuckin’ France.” Abaya’s glass tipped over, spilling lemonade onto the floor. “You can’t tell me what to do.” He turned on Lizette. “You can’t saddle me with this kid!”

He stood, looked down at her. “You can’t even put one foot in front of the other—and you think you’ve got it all figured out? You’re a head case, man.”

He pushed past Abaya, swayed in the middle of the kitchen. “Sandy said Al’s the father!” he yelled at them. “She should know. Now he’s dead. And I’d like to know how Bella got out?” He turned to Lizette, who sat with her head down, shielding her eyes.

“Sandy said whatever she wanted,” Lizette said into her lap. “She didn’t want you. She played with you. Like a pet cocker spaniel and you lapped it up. Who’s the crazy one?”