The Buried Book (19 page)

CHAPTER 35

What happened after the fire? Where did you go?

After the doctor left, the nurse brought Jasper a plate of venison and mashed corn. The meat tasted strong and bloody, but he devoured it anyway. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. After he’d cleaned his plate, she brought him another cup of the tea. He drank it fast and flopped down on his pillow, hoping to see his mother again. The nurse gave him an odd little grin and flipped off the lights.

Jasper lay in the dark, holding his mother’s necklace. He would tell her how Dr. Whitebird had given it back and the vow he had made. He had vowed to grow up. He had vowed to come back and pay his debt. She’d be proud of him, he decided. He ran his finger across the hundreds of tiny beads.
Nimaamaa.

As Jasper drifted away, he swore he could feel the summer sun warming his face. A light breeze blew through his hair. He was back at his grandmother’s house, only it wasn’t buried in the tall grasses of Uncle Leo’s back field. It was surrounded by flowers and cut grass. The air was thick with the smell of freshly stacked hay. A woman stood on the porch. She was beating a rug with a broom. He didn’t recognize her but knew it must be his grandmother. He stared at her as she worked in her long cornflower dress with her dark hair pinned up like his mother would sometimes do. She was beautiful. Her head tilted up to where he was standing, but she looked right through him as though he weren’t there, then disappeared back into the house.

“Come back,” he whispered and struggled to follow her inside. His feet were rooted to the ground as though he were just another maple tree protecting the house from the wind.

It was a cheerful-looking house, he decided. White with green shutters and a wood shingle roof. The second-story window stood open, catching the summer breeze. Something behind the glass moved. It was his mother’s room. He called her name, but nothing came out. The only sound for miles was the steady hum of the locusts in the trees. Silently cursing, he watched the window, desperate for another glimpse of her.

The sky grew dark and dotted with stars. The windows of the house glowed yellow. Then he heard shouting. Then the crash of a dish hitting the ground. The faintest smell of smoke began to waft into his nose. It could have been a distant cigar, but then it grew stronger.
The house.
Wisps of smoke came billowing from his mother’s window. The light inside it began to flicker.

“No!”
he screamed, but his voice was silent. He yelled again, but nothing came out. He fought to free his feet, but they stayed planted in the ground. Plumes of smoke were wafting from the ridge of the house now, but no one came out. His mother’s yellow sedan was parked in the driveway in a spot that had been empty moments before. The door to the car stood open.

From deep in the house, he heard a scream.

Jasper bolted up from the cot. The line in his arm yanked hard as he struggled to the door. He was screaming.

The light flipped on, and a woman he didn’t recognize ran to him and forced him back to the bed. “Easy. Easy, little one,” she said firmly. “You were dreaming.”

“The house. It was burning. She couldn’t get out,” he wailed, flailing his arms.

“You are not going to save her today,” the lady said, grabbing his wrist. “Now hold still.”

Jasper shook his head, trying to shake loose the image of the beautiful house on fire. The woman held his arm steady as she pulled off the bandage where the needle had nearly ripped out of his arm.

It was the sight of his own blood that finally calmed him down.

“You are not ready for the hook to come out, little fish. It is not time to swim away.” She worked quickly, reinserting the needle and securing it with fresh tape. Jasper felt a pinch but held still for her. She had dark skin and long hair like Dr. Whitebird.

“I—I’m sorry,” he whimpered.

She gazed down at him with smiling eyes. “We sometimes see bad things when we are close to the spirit world, but you are getting better now. The dreams will get better too.”

Jasper lay back down, wanting to go back to sleep and save her.

“You have a visitor.”

His eyes snapped open. “I do?”

She nodded and went out the door. His heart leapt at the thought of who it might be, but he did his best to quiet it. His uncle said he’d be back tomorrow. He had no idea how long he’d been on the cot, but it was probably tomorrow. Maybe Wayne had come with Uncle Leo. He glanced down at the beads he was still gripping in his hand. Uncle Leo would be furious he’d taken them back.

Just as the door opened, he buried the necklace under the blanket.

“Jasper?” a shaky voice asked.

His father emerged from behind the door and hobbled toward the bed. He was leaning on a cane. The mild tremor he’d carried home from his time in the war had multiplied. The man lowered himself with some difficulty onto the stool next to the bed.

“Let me get a look at ya,” Wendell said, giving the yellow-and-red-stained bandages on Jasper’s legs only a glance. Instead, he leaned forward and examined his son’s face. Jasper wondered self-consciously if the bruise around his eye had faded away. The tortured look on his father’s face told him it hadn’t.

“I’m okay,” Jasper whispered.

His father nodded and lowered his face to a shaking hand. “I thought . . . I thought I’d lost you,” he choked and then cleared his throat with a wet cough. It took a full minute before he could look Jasper in the face again. “How’d you manage to get here, Son? I looked for you everywhere. Everywhere. When Mrs. Carbo said you’d gone . . .”

“I’m so sorry.” Jasper couldn’t look at him. “I was afraid. That detective came for me, and I didn’t—”

“Shh . . . shh.” His father patted his head. “You get all worked up, they won’t let me stay. You know, you’re damned lucky you’re in the hospital, or I might’ve beat you something fierce—scaring me half to death like that.”

Jasper shrank against the far wall.

“No. I’m sorry. I never should’ve . . .” He opened his hand as a peace offering and fell silent for another minute. He managed a weak smile and reached over and took Jasper’s hand. “The important thing is you’re here. Thank the Lord, you’re here. I’m the luckiest bastard on earth. They treatin’ you alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Your uncle says you really did it to yourself good. How’s the leg?”

“Okay, I guess. The doctor says I can go home tomorrow.”

“That’s real good. Sounds like you gave the devil the slip on that one. Lucky for me, you got nine lives, Son. I just don’t know what I’d do if . . .”

Jasper swallowed hard. “Dad, what happened back at home? The blood . . .”

Wendell held up a hand to silence him. “You shouldn’t be worrying about that now. Probably just burglars havin’ themselves a scuffle. The police took half the night going over it with their cameras and collecting their evidence, then dragged me down to the station for hours . . . to fill out their damn papers.”

“Was it . . . Mom?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Wendell clenched his trembling hands together and gave Jasper a weak smile that had the opposite of the intended effect. “She’s fine. She’s just fine. She’s gonna turn up. She always does.”

“But the detective said they found her car . . .”

His father’s eyes hardened. “Now, look it. Every police officer in Detroit’s out lookin’ for her. We just have to let them do their jobs, alright? She wouldn’t want us losin’ our heads, would she?”

Jasper went quiet again and nodded as though he agreed with him, but he knew his father would never tell him the truth. Not if the truth was bad. Not if the blood was hers. He was just a kid, and his father would try to protect him.

“Here. Your uncle thought you might like this.” Wendell handed Jasper
The First Book of Indians
. “You know, to pass the time.”

“Thanks.” Jasper set the book in his lap, keeping his eyes on the screaming faces on the cover.

Wendell reached out and took Jasper’s hands in his. There were red welts on both his wrists like matching bracelets under his shirtsleeves. “You like staying with Leo and Velma?”

Jasper knew it really wasn’t up to him, but he thought about it to humor the old man. Uncle Leo was tough but fair. He even seemed to forgive him for knocking over the lantern. Then he thought of Velma rocking him in her arms.
Every child has many mothers, and every mother has many children.
“Yeah. I like it there okay, I guess.”

“Good.” His father gave his hands a squeeze and let go. “As long as you don’t try to burn the barn down again, I think they’d be happy to have you back. But don’t you worry. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll come visit every weekend. You’re the best thing I’ve got goin’. Don’t ever forget that.”

Jasper forced a smile, but there were still so many questions he needed to ask. “Dad?”

“Yes, Son?”

“What about that detective?”

His father looked him hard in the eye before answering, “What about him?”

“Mrs. Carbo said he might take me to an orphanage.”

His father leaned forward and squeezed his shoulders. “Over my dead body. Nobody’s takin’ you anywhere. Understand? Nobody. I won’t let ’em.”

He pulled the boy into his arms and held him tight. It was a bit of a shock. Jasper could count on one hand the number of times his father had really hugged him. It just wasn’t what people did. He would have been overwhelmed by it if it weren’t for the unsteady tremor in his father’s arms . . . and the feeling that the man was hiding something.

CHAPTER 36

Is that when you started drinking?

Jasper lay in the bed with his mother’s necklace in his hand and tried to remember every true thing he could about her. She drank her coffee black.
Sugar just covers up the real taste of things, Jasper,
she’d say from her morning perch next to the kitchen sink. She always drank two bitter cups before leaving for work. The acrid residue of the coffee would cling to his cheek as she kissed him good-bye.

He reached up and touched his face, then squeezed his eyes shut to plug the tears.

She loved to dance. She’d once taught him the fox-trot in their tiny living room.
Left, together, up . . . Right, together, back. That’s good, Jasper. Go easy. Don’t push a woman around the floor. Just move like you know what you’re doing, and she’ll follow. That’s the key to it all, baby . . .

Jasper must have drifted back asleep. The next thing he knew, he heard angry voices coming from the hallway outside his room. Something thumped hard against a wall.

“Don’t you use that voodoo witchcraft on me!” a man howled. “It ain’t Christian. It ain’t!”

“Sir, you have a laceration. It requires stitches,” the voice of Dr. Whitebird calmly responded.

“It’s just a cut, you crazy red bastard! I need a doctor.” The drunken slur of his voice made Jasper cringe in the dark.

“I
am
a doctor, and you will bleed out if you don’t keep that elevated. You need compression.”

The crash of a metal tray hit the ground just outside Jasper’s room.

“What made me bleed out was that rigged poker room you Injuns got!” His voice fell to a mumble Jasper had to strain to hear. “That and that little hussy that drank up all my money . . . I swear to Christ, I been robbed!”

Something louder thumped against a wall.

“Get Motega,” the doctor said to someone.

Jasper sat up at the name.

“I’m callin’ Galatas. He promised me a nice little time up here with you heathens. Buy the little red girls some drinks, he said. Give ’em a little cash for their habits. They’ll show you a real nice time, he said. Bullshit! What kind of brothel is this?”

“This is not a brothel!”
Dr. Whitebird thundered.

“Like hell it ain’t. I need a phone!” the drunk man yelled back. “Hey! Get your dirty hands off me! You can’t touch me . . .
Police!
”

A deeper voice answered, “Your police will not come here. You better listen to the good doctor.”

“Or what you gonna do? Go on the warpath?” The man laughed. “Gonna throw a spear at me?”

“No, but I will gladly watch you bleed to death.” The deep voice seethed. “Black River is closed.”

The drunk man let out a squeal. There was a loud thump, and then he went quiet.

“Thank you, Motega.” The doctor sighed. “Help me get him onto the table.”

“We should let him bleed out in a ditch.”

“We are not murderers, Motega. You can find a ditch for him after the medicine.”

“They are the murderers!” Motega roared. “How many must die? How many fields must burn? This drunk gookoosh will light more fires, and it might be
you
they take to jail for it.”

“Killing this drunk won’t bring her back, Motega. We fought and lost this war years ago . . . long before you were born. We must find peace with these people or the Great Wind will sweep us away. Take heart.” The doctor chuckled. “Between the liquor and the loss of blood, he won’t remember his name tomorrow.”

“And if he does?”

There was no answer.

“He will have bandages to explain,” Motega insisted. “He might file a report with the federal marshal. Then what? I have been to their prison. How many more must go?”

“Eya.” The doctor grunted. “He will have nothing to report if he wakes up at the Tally Ho. I will call Clint Sharkey and make the arrangements.”

“I still say we crash his car into a tree.”

Jasper’s mouth fell open as the voices faded down the hall.

Not a minute later, Jasper heard footsteps approach his door. He slammed his head back into the pillow and shut his eyes. He didn’t dare move as the doctor, or whoever it was, peered in at him. Three seconds later, the door closed again.

As soon as it did, Jasper sat back up and gaped at the slivers of light leaking in from the hallway. He hadn’t understood half of what had been said, but the words
They are the murderers!
still hung in the air like a storm cloud.
Killing this drunk won’t bring her back.

Her.

The only thing he knew for sure was that he’d heard the name Galatas before. Jasper lay back down and gazed up at the ceiling.

Smoke rose up from the horizon of Jasper’s mind. A field had been burning the day she left him.
Just someone burning a fallow field,
she’d said as if it were nothing.

But it didn’t seem like nothing anymore.

Dr. Whitebird came to check on Jasper the next morning.

“How are we feeling today, Ogichidaa?” he asked, placing a warm hand on the boy’s head.

“Better.” That was the least of his worries. “Who was that man? The one that was yelling earlier?”

“You have keen ears, little rabbit.” The doctor flashed a small smile and then opened up his bandages. “I see the healing is well underway. This is good.”

Jasper wouldn’t let the doctor change the subject. “Who was he?”

“Just a lost man from the city. I must apologize for him. Some of my tribe like to drink whiskey with strangers and play games for money. Such things always lead to trouble. But it is hard for our young men to find good work.”

“He was so . . . mean to you,” Jasper said.

“I do not let the bad spirits of others come and bother me.” He pointed a finger at Jasper as if this were a warning.

“What will happen to him?”

The doctor laughed. “He will wake up with a terrible headache tomorrow, but he will live.”

“But . . .” Jasper didn’t think it was funny. There had been talk of murder, burning fields, and prison. “Will you get in trouble?”

“All of our troubles come to us invited . . . with open hands.” The doctor studied his palms for a moment, then clapped them together. The doctor closed the bandages and smiled at Jasper. “Don’t worry, Ogichidaa. These are not your troubles . . . You are healing well. You can go home when this is done.”

The doctor pointed to the half-full glass jar over his head. The liquid dripped steadily into the tube attached to his arm. Time was running out.

Jasper wanted to ask a million more questions, but the most burning ones wouldn’t come out.
Did Motega kill my mother? Did he hide her car in the trees? What did you mean when you said, It won’t bring her back?
He finally managed, “Who was that other man? Motega?”

“He is the son of Ogimaa. Ogimaa is the head of our tribal council.”

“Did he and my mother have some sort of . . . fight?” Jasper whispered. “Someone told me she was in trouble with someone named Motega.”

The doctor raised his eyebrows. “You do have long ears, little rabbit. Who told you this?”

“A man named Big Bill. He owns the roller rink in Burtchville.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “Be careful when you listen to others speak. Life is a story of many voices and the truth lies between them.”

Jasper frowned at this. Dr. Whitebird liked to talk in riddles, and it was starting to get on his nerves. “Did Motega know my mother or not?”

The doctor studied Jasper’s scowl a moment and answered, “Eya. But I know of no fight between them.”

“Were they friends?”

“Eya.”

The boy sat up. “Why was he put in jail then?”

Dr. Whitebird gave him a hard look. “Motega is a good man. The men that hold the keys to your jails do not see always good or bad. They see Manitonaaha, and that is crime enough.”

Jasper realized he had offended the doctor, and his eyes fell in shame. “I just . . . I heard there was a murder.”

“Have no fear, Ogichidaa. It was not your mother.” Dr. Whitebird held up a hand to stop the questions. “I will speak no more of the dead.”

“I—I’m sorry.” Jasper knew he should stop but couldn’t. “How did you know my mother?”

“It is not my place to speak for her.”

“But someone has to speak for her! She’s gone, and I don’t know where she went.” His eyes welled up. “She left me all alone. It’s like she doesn’t care about me at all!”

“No,” Dr. Whitebird commanded. “Never doubt the love of your nimaamaa. If she has gone, it is only to protect you.”

“How can she protect me if she’s not here?” Jasper buried his face to hide his tears.

“Let me tell you a story.” The doctor put a warm hand on his shoulder. “One day a Manitonaaha mother and child were walking in the woods, hunting for wild berries. Do you like berries?”

Jasper forced a nod but kept his face in his hands.

“They picked a big basket of berries and were headed back to the village. But the mother heard the growl of a wolf deep in the woods behind them.” The doctor let out a low growl. “What should she do? She picked up her child and began to run, but they run too slow. She puts down the basket of berries and runs faster. But still she runs too slow. The wolf was getting closer.” The doctor patted his knees making running sounds. “Its growls were getting louder.” He let out a loud roar.

Jasper looked up at the sound.

“Do you know what she did?”

He shook his head.

“She put the child up in a tree. Without the child, she runs faster than before, and she leads the wolf away. Now, you must decide, young Ogichidaa. Does the mother still love him?”

Jasper thought about it for a minute, then nodded. “If she hadn’t put him in a tree, they both would’ve been caught and eaten.”

“Very good.” The doctor smiled. “Now, your mother has left you with your uncle, yes?”

“Yes,” he whispered.

“Does she still love you?”

“I—It’s not the same!” Jasper protested, catching the doctor’s meaning. “We aren’t in the woods! There’s no wolf chasing us!”

“Oh? How do you know? Wolves come with many faces. Some even live inside us.” The doctor patted his own chest for emphasis. “You don’t want to meet the wolf. Your mother doesn’t want you to meet it either. You must have faith, Ogichidaa. You must believe she loves you.”

Jasper thought of the detective chasing him from his apartment. It was sort of like running from a wolf, but he’d been alone without her. He closed his eyes and tried to remember the warmth of her lips on his forehead. “Did she . . . Did she come back here? Have you seen her?”

“I wish I could tell you that I have. But she is with you. Her love is with you here.” The doctor patted Jasper’s cheek and pressed the necklace into his palm. Then he stood and headed to the door.

“Wait.” Jasper stopped him in the doorway. “You didn’t finish your story. Did she ever come back?”

The doctor turned a puzzled face down to the boy on the cot.

“After the mother runs and leads the wolf away. Does she ever come back?”

The doctor pressed his lips into a thin line of regret. “No. The wolf passes under the tree where the child hides and goes back to his den, not hungry.”

“But what about the child?” Jasper shouted in protest. “What happens to him?”

“He cries for his mother for three days and nights. Then her voice returns to him in the songs of the birds. She tells him there is nothing to fear. She tells him that she gave her life to save him, but she would always be near—in the birds, in the wind, in the sky. And do you know what he does?”

A tear slid down Jasper’s cheek as he shook his head.

“He climbs down from the tree all by himself, Ogichidaa.”

With that, the doctor left the room.