Shallow Grave-J Collins 3 (22 page)

“Chicken butt,” I said.

He giggled.

Th

at childish laughter should’ve fi lled the void inside me, but it made a wider chasm.

“Know why?” he said, playing along.

“Cow pie,” I answered.

He giggled again.

Th

e crack expanded.

247

“Wanna see it?” he demanded.

“A cow pie? Eww. No way.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Not that.”

“Good, because that would be totally gross. Whatcha got?”

“A dinosaur!” He wiggled a plastic green T-Rex; the jaw was wide open, the eyes glowed red, and a long, spiked killer tail swished back and forth. “It bites stuff .”

He clamped the mouth on the edge of the table and growled chomping noises.

“Cool. Where’d you get it?”

Abita said, “Dinosaur Park, in the gift shop. All those life-size concrete dinosaurs are a little boy’s dream come true.”

Jericho threw a handful of Matchbox cars on the fl oor and fl opped on his belly. T-Rex stomped on the cars like
Godzilla.

Boys.

Abita twisted a turquoise ring on her thumb.

“Th

anks for letting us come over at the last minute.”

“I meant it when I said you could call me at any time.”

“Good. Umm. I need to ask you a favor.”

My defenses kicked in. Pathetic, but true. “What?”

“Will you come with me to meet Ben’s mother?”

At my look of shock, she blushed.

“I got to thinking about what you said, and I realized 248

you were right. So I called Ben’s mother this morning.”

“What did Yvette say?”

“Not much. I don’t know if she believed me or not about Jericho, but she’s willing to meet me.”

“When?”

“Umm. In about an hour.” She cringed. “Sorry for the short notice. I thought it was something I should do on my own. Now I’m not so sure.”

If Yvette came alone, Abita would do fi ne. But if Leticia showed up, she’d rip Abita to shreds like a rabid coyote with a deer carcass.

“We’re meeting at a restaurant outside of the reservation. She gave me directions but I’m not sure if I can fi nd it.”

Crossing paths with Yvette Standing Elk made me realize my headache was about to get much, much worse.

Abita insisted I drive. She divided her time between gazing out the window and entertaining Jericho in his car seat.

“It’s so diff erent here. Everything is so . . .”

Ugly. Late fall is the ugliest time of year. Trees look half dead; washed out leaves dangle on the ends of bare branches. During the peak of summer, prairie pastures were a dazzling spectrum in shades of green and gold. At this time of year the silky strands and fat seedpods were long gone. Nothing remained but dried, faded stalks, 249

and stubbly brown ground cover, sporadic dots of interest spread across ginger-colored dirt.

“Pretty barren, isn’t it?”

“Nothing is as barren as miles of desert. How much farther?”

“About twenty miles. Are you nervous?” I passed a tractor hauling round bales of hay. Th

e rancher waved a

gloved hand. I waved back.

“Yes.”

“If my presence causes problems, Abita, promise me you’ll stay. Don’t allow how Yvette feels about me to interfere with Jericho connecting with his family.”

Th

e fallow fi elds and empty grazing land held her interest for several minutes. Finally she said, “Ben hated it, you know. How his family treated you.”

A lump rose in my throat.

Th

e restaurant, Pete’s Pantry, was out in the middle of nowhere. No clue how it stayed in business. I parked next to a silver Chrysler Le Baron with ’71 county license plates.

Jericho drummed his feet and hands. Abita unbuckled him, settled him on her hip and scooted to the door.

I trudged behind like a reluctant dog.

Inside, standard red-checked plastic tablecloths covered the tables. Skinny clear glass vases crammed with artifi cial purple daisies were centered between bottles 250

of ketchup and taco sauce. An empty salad bar curled around one corner.

Yvette wasn’t hard to spot since she was the only customer in the joint.

She didn’t wave us over. Maybe it was shock at seeing me that kept her back rigid against the brick wall.

Abita gracefully wended through the empty tables, stopping in front of Yvette. “Mrs. Standing Elk? I’m Abita Kahlen. We spoke on the phone.”

Jericho hid his face in his mother’s neck.

I stood there like a dumb ass.

Yvette wasn’t paying attention to Abita, but to Jericho, or rather, the back of Jericho’s head.

Ben’s mother hadn’t changed much in the years since I’d seen her. Same shoulder length black hair. Square glasses on a round face. She was short and squat with a heavy upper body. Yvette wasn’t a particularly pretty woman. Nor did she have a dynamic personality. I hadn’t pegged her as strong-willed either, so she’d always been a bit of an anomaly to me.

Ben didn’t resemble her a bit. He’d been tall and gangly, like our father. Like me. Th

at’s where the simi-

larities ended; Ben hadn’t looked any more white than I looked Indian.

Yvette fi nally acknowledged my presence when I lit a Marlboro. “Th

ought you might’ve had somethin’ to

251

do with this.”

“Julie didn’t have anything to do with me contacting you.”

Her attention returned to Abita. “Why did you contact me?”

Abita blushed and lowered her chin slightly to kiss Jericho’s head. “Curiosity, mostly.”

I frowned. Abita had hedged that question with me too.

An older waitress chatted with Yvette, jotted down our drink orders and left us alone in prickly silence.

Abita whispered to Jericho, and unwrapped his arms from her neck. She set three cars on the table and unzipped his coat.

Jericho faced Yvette for the fi rst time.

I watched her shamelessly, preparing myself for her gasp of recognition. Or tears of joy.

But I was doomed to disappointment. Yvette remained statue-like.

Once Abita had situated Jericho in a high chair between us, she jammed a straw in her Sprite. “You don’t have any questions?”

“Of course I have questions.”

“Are you questioning whether Jericho is Ben’s son?”

“All’s I hafta do is look at him to know he’s Ben’s kid.”

I choked on my Diet Pepsi. Th

at comment shocked

252

the shit out of me. I’d expected her to demand a pater-nity test, and then whip out a test kit.

“You Hopi then?”

“Yes.”

“Both sides?”

“Yes, except for a great-great grandmother who was Mexican.”

“I’m a third generation descendant of Chief War Bonnet. Th

e Standing Elk family is descended from Red Cloud.”

But Ben’s heritage was mixed; half white, half Sioux.

Jericho’s heritage took him further away from the Sioux purity they were so proud of. Was that part of the reason Yvette hadn’t welcomed Jericho with open arms?

Politely, Abita said, “Family history fascinates me.”

Several agonizing minutes passed as they made inane conversation about family trees.

Another weighty silence hung over the table like lead.

Yvette squinted at Jericho and cocked her head at Abita. “Ben told me about you. Not much, but I recognized your name when you called. It’s very unusual.”

Th

e casualness of her statement nearly knocked me out of my chair. Ben had told his mother about Abita?

She’d known about her?

“Did Ben know you were pregnant?”

Abita shook her head. “I kept it from my family and 253

everybody in the village until it was obvious I wasn’t just getting fat.”

“How old were you?”

“Seventeen.”

“I had Ben at seventeen.”

I shot Yvette a sideways glance.

She was looking at Jericho, and for just a minute her mouth softened. When she caught me scrutinizing her, her lips drew back into a line as tight as a drum skin.

I should’ve taken a deep breath, given myself a moment to get myself together. But I was so goddamn mad I blurted, “Why didn’t you tell me you knew about Abita?”

Yvette showed not a lick of emotion. “Maybe you should be wondering why
Ben
didn’t tell you, eh?”

Bulls-eye.

Jericho reached for a blue crayon. I rolled it closer to his chubby little hand. He smiled at me with Ben’s eyes.

My world spun with the depth of Ben’s duplicity.

Satisfi ed she’d put me in my place, Yvette refocused her interest on Abita. “Why are you here now?”

“I’m taking a weaving seminar at National College.”

Abita blathered nervously about various classes and class-mates, then her enthusiasm tapered off and we were back to quiet.

“Th

em kinda classes are expensive, especially comin’

here all the way from Arizona.”

254

“I know. I couldn’t have aff orded it if the tribe wasn’t paying my tuition.”

Feminine laughter trilled in the kitchen, beneath the sounds of an ice machine dumping cubes into a metal bin.

Th

e air at the table became chilly.

“Sounds like you don’t have much money. So, if you’re here to ask
us
for money, you’re wasting your time.

Our family ranch passes to the eldest Standing Elk male, making Jericho ineligible to inherit. Ever. And my daughter is a lawyer and she’ll make sure he don’t get nothin’.”

Sweet, bumbling Abita vanished. She slapped her hands on the table hard enough it wobbled.

Yvette, Jericho, and I jumped.

“You happy now you’ve insulted me? You’ve insulted my child, your son’s
only
child. You think the reason I’ve come here is to hit you up for money?”

Jericho began to whimper.

“Th

is is why I didn’t contact you when I had my baby alone. Th

is is why I hesitated to contact you at all.

Because I knew it would be a mistake.

“I want nothing from your family. I’ve never wanted anything, especially not compensation. Having
my
son is more than enough compensation for the short time I spent with
your
son.” Tears glittered on her dark lashes. “I was 255

taught to respect my elders, and I have. But I’m done.

Forget we ever came here, because we won’t be back.”

Abita straddled Jericho on her hip and stormed out the door.

Unhurriedly, I picked up Jericho’s cars and rolled up the picture he’d scribbled. Th

en I leaned over so Yvette

had no choice but to hear what I had to say.

“Did Leticia give you pointers on the cold bitch act?”

“You’ve no right to talk to me that way.”

“Yeah? I never would have guessed such a heartless woman raised such a warm, loving person as my brother.”

She fl inched slightly at the phrase “my brother.”

“Yes, I said my
brother
. Ben belonged to me too.

Th

at child is the last link we have to him. Maybe it doesn’t matter to you, but it sure as hell matters to me.

“Who cares if your heritage can be traced back several generations? I doubt those all-important ancestors would’ve been proud of the way you acted today.

“Maybe you got a secret thrill, keeping the information about Abita from me. I’ve spent the last three and a half years chasing every lead, no matter how small, because I am driven to fi nd out what happened to my brother. I cannot fathom why, as a mother, as
Ben’s
mother, you wouldn’t want the same thing.

“So go home and gloat with Leticia and Owen and Reese about how you put Abita in her place. But be 256

warned: your little secret reinforces my suspicions there are plenty more secrets left to uncover. And you bet your ass I will fi nd out every goddamn one.”

I managed a dignifi ed exit.

Outside, Abita and Jericho were sitting on the concrete parking blocks, digging in the gravel. Crap. I’d forgotten her car keys were in my pocket.

Jericho’s head whipped around at the
chirp
chirp
of the doors unlocking. He ran to me, hand outstretched.

“Look! A pink rock!”

“Cool.” If I kept talking I’d feel less like crying.

Abita’s entire posture was glum. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You ready to go?”

“Yes.” She stopped. “Oh no. I left his c-a-r-s inside.”

I smiled despite the bad taste in my mouth from the conversation with Yvette. “I have them.”

After Jericho nodded off , I said, “Th

at didn’t take long.”

“I’m sorry I asked you to come along.”

Th

at made two of us.

Low clouds of fog created an eerie mysticism. Th e

tires made a soothing
clack-clack clack-clack
in the quiet of the car. I was dying to smoke, not only out of nerves, but nicotine helped my focus. Something was out of synch here. But I’d be damned if I could put my fi nger on it.

Seemed like everything in my life was out of synch.

“What are your plans now that you’ve met Ben’s 257

mother and she didn’t give you a T-shirt emblazoned with the family crest?”

“I don’t know.”

“You could always hang out with me. Th

at ought to

really piss them off .”

Abita smiled serenely, appearing far older than she was. Truthfully, it spooked me a little. “You’re exactly like Ben described you.”

“How’s that?”

“Tough, smart, and funny. Sweet.”

My jaw dropped. “Ben said I was
sweet
?”

“Why does that surprise you?”

“Because no one has ever called me ‘sweet’.”

“Ben recognized qualities in others they didn’t recognize in themselves.” She stroked her braid in long, continuous movements. “Even though that was a fi asco, I wish I knew . . .”

“Knew what?” I swerved to avoid a dead raccoon in the middle of the road. Made me think of Charity.

Should’ve run the damn thing over. “Something else going on?”

“No. Forget I said anything, I’m just babbling because I’m tired.” Her head fell back into the headrest and she closed her eyes.