Why the Star Stands Still (Gives Light Series) (2 page)

Iron balusters preceded the giant, darkly wooded farm manor where my best friend, Annie Little Hawk, lived with her husband, Aubrey.  Aubrey's brothers and their spouses all lived in the manor, too.  And their children.  You know, there's this superstition in Shoshone society--if somebody dies in your house, you're supposed to abandon it immediately.  You're not even allowed to tear it down.  The elderly tend to move out of their houses and into wickiups when they hit their late seventies.  That way their children can inherit their homes.  This house had belonged to Aubrey's parents once.  I still miss them.  I'm sure he does, too.

Rafael and I lifted Leon under his arms.  I guess he got a kick out of that, because he whooped and swung his legs.  We carried him across the lawn, past the teeming crops at the front gate.

The dark-paneled door already stood open.  That's how it is in Nettlebush.  Everybody knows everybody else, so we tend to walk in on each other without knocking.

"Annie!" I called out.  Leon followed us dutifully into the foyer, his qualms forgotten.

We found Annie in the kitchen by the wood-coal stove with a woman and a young girl.  The wide bay window stood open, dragonflies skimming the surface of the pond outside.

Annie spun around.

Jeez, her belly was huge.

"Are you ever not pregnant?" I joked, and pushed Leon toward her.

"Ha, ha," Annie said humorlessly.  It was kind of a riot to see her with that stomach.  Annie's short--ridiculously short--and her pregnancy made her look as wide as she was tall.  Her long brown hair was pulled up in a loop at the nape of her neck.  "What's all this about?"

"He jumped in the lake," Rafael said sourly.

Serafine Takes Flight whirled around at the stove.  So did Daisy At Dawn.  Poor Leon, I thought.  I wouldn't want those three looking at me the way they did him.

"You
know
you're not supposed to!" Serafine said.  "You're too little."  Which was kind of weird, coming from her mouth, because I could still remember when she was three years old, dandled in her father's arms.

"You want the lake monster to eat you?" Daisy said, and barely managed to hide a wicked, bubbly smile.

"Yes," Leon said.

"Go change your clothes," Annie said.  "Then you can get a towel and dry up all the water you brought into the house."

"No!" Leon wailed.

"Yes," Annie said placidly.  "Oh, Skylar, since you're here..."

I pulled a face.  I love Annie--I do--but she has a way of sinking her hooks into you and getting you to run her errands.

"He can't," Rafael said.  "Bye."

He grabbed my hand and dragged me from the house before Annie could retaliate.

The sky was sluggish today in its daily descent.  Light still clung to the walls of the drifting clouds, cream-colored and ethereal.  I could hear the coywolves yipping in the pinyon trees, no doubt settling down after a long day of hunting.

Rafael's hand rested against the small of my back.  Together we walked the beaten path back to the neighborhood.

"Hey," Rafael murmured.

I looked up with a quizzical smile.

He nodded toward a log cabin on our right, a sundial outside.

My heart twisted in my chest.  My grandmother's house.  My grandmother had raised me.

I really missed her.

"Do you wanna go inside?" Rafael asked.

"No," I said.  I cleared my throat.  "Thank you."

"You sure?"

I nodded.

In Nettlebush, dinner is a group occasion.  Everyone gathers around the firepit and shares Plains food and Plains music and the Plains stories their parents taught them.  It's kind of like a block party, only it happens every night.

Come nighttime, there were hundreds of us seated around the blazing bonfire--on the ground, on folding chairs, on picnic benches.  Morgan Stout played his plains flute, Heather and Henry Siomme danced the grass dance, and my sister, Jessica, joined me at the picnic table.

When I say "sister," it's really more like "step-sister."  Jessica and I aren't related.  Her mom married my dad some years ago.  Actually, I think that's pretty remarkable.  Back then, nobody knew for certain that my dad was coming home.  Racine married him anyway.  I can't think of a more profound way to show someone you support them.

Jessica giggled.  "You know your husband stomps around like a grumpy elephant when he's on call?"

Jessica was a nurse.

"I wasn't aware," I said with a wry smile.  "Where's DeShawn?" I asked.

"I don't know.  I think he stayed late at the council building.  He won't be satisfied until he alphabetizes and color codes all the tribal files..."

Jessica grabbed my arm and shook it.  "Skylar!  Are you excited about tomorrow?"

"You mean Dad coming home?"

"I can't wait," Jessica said.  "I really missed Uncle Paul."

I let my smile speak for itself.  I missed him too.  More than anything.  More than the sun misses the moon.  They were married, you know, the sun and the moon.  Ask any Shoshone.  The only reason they come out at opposite times of day is because the divorce was so ugly, they can't stand to look at each other.

"How's Stuart?" I asked.

Jessica wrinkled her face.  "He spends all his time out at Bear River these days."

"You know that's a little creepy, right?" I said.  "I went to school with the guy, Jess."

"I know, I know..."

"And he's dating my little sister--"

"Who's dating our little sister?"

DeShawn came scurrying over to us, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose.  Smooth guy, that DeShawn.

"No one, DeShawn," Jessica said, and rolled her eyes. 

"Skylar," DeShawn said.  "Are you picking up Uncle Paul tomorrow?"

"Yep.  We're taking Gabriel's car.  Do you want to come?"

DeShawn squirmed.  "I don't know.  All those people at once, I wonder if it's too much for him..."

My dad's not a solitary creature.  The more people he's around, the more he thrives.  I can't imagine what it was like for him in prison all those years, separated from his family and friends.

"You know what?" I said.  "I think he'd be happy to see the both of you.  You should come along.  We'll go out to lunch afterward."

DeShawn smiled.  "I bet he'd enjoy that..."

"Oh, I'm coming," Jessica said.  "I'm supposed to be at the hospital tomorrow morning.  I'll ask Prairie Rose to cover for me."

Nettlebush doesn't operate off of the same economy the rest of America uses.  In fact, except for when we need to leave the reservation, money doesn't even change hands.  Shoshone have always relied on a "gift economy"--kind of a "You scratch my back, I scratch yours" sort of deal.  The idea is that if everybody helps everybody else, then everybody lives well.  It works, too.  The only downside is that a little old man can show up on your doorstep at two in the morning and ask you to fix his pit toilet, and you've got to go do it.

Jessica hopped up from the table, her braids bouncing, and walked off. 

"Then I'll tell Autumn Rose," DeShawn said.  His face took on a faraway expression.  "That woman sure is something..."

"You're blushing."

"Whoops," DeShawn said.  And he darted off.

By this point in the evening, I was starting to miss Rafael.  That's really sad, I know.  So I got up from the picnic table; and I went looking for him.

I found him, sure enough, underneath a ponderosa tree with his sister, Mary.

"Hey, loser!" Mary said.  I kind of miss her crazy teased hair and her black corsets, but she's nearing forty; maybe she figures it's time to calm down.  Or not.  Her nose is still pierced.  "Want a beer?"

"Shut up, Mary," Rafael said.  "Zeke's looking for us," he said to me.

"Really?"  I sat down with the two of them.  "Where is he now?"

I didn't have to wait long before Zeke came lumbering over to us in all his lean and frantic glory; his suit seriously rumpled, half of his head shaven, the rest of his hair long and combed to the side, exactly the way his ancestors would have worn it.

Zeke Owns Forty is the kind of guy you wouldn't want to bring to a library.  Or a museum.  Or an airport.  Or a supermarket.  I don't ever recall a time when he's stood still or kept his mouth sealed--and I went to high school with him.  Can you imagine what a headache he must have been for our teacher?

"I have good news for you fairies!"

You see what I mean?

"Want me to punch you?" said a surly Rafael.

"Are we taking votes?" Mary asked.

"No punching, please," I said.  "What's the news, Zeke?"

Zeke invited himself to sit down with the three of us.  He smelled oddly like cinnamon.

"I've got a foster kid waiting for you," he said.  She--"

It was all Rafael needed to hear.  He might have jumped out of his seat if I hadn't held his arm, placating him.  "How soon can she be here?"

"Well, uh," Zeke said.  "Depends.  She's had a lot of problems with her last homes, so..."

"We don't mind," I said.  I knew how much Rafael wanted this.  I wanted what he wanted.  "We'd be happy to have her, Zeke."

"Okay.  I'll give you her file tomorrow, and...
hey
!  Holly, stop that!"  Zeke leapt up from the ground and dashed away.

Colorful guy, that Zeke.  Shame about his attention span.

Mary whistled suddenly, reminding me she was still with us.  "Wow," she said.  "My baby brother with a baby of his own.  Poor kid's a goner..."

"Mary!" Rafael said.

I grinned. 

It was well after midnight by the time Rafael and I headed home.  The forest path was painted silver with moonlight, the tops of the beech trees rustling in shadow.

I think Rafael was in too much of a stupor to say anything just yet.  But as we went inside the house, and I lit the oil lamps, and he tripped over his scrubs, his messy clothes still discarded in the middle of the front room floor, he suddenly erupted into a frenzy of conversation.

"Do you think she'll like the books I got her?  I mean, what if she's not old enough to read them?  Wait, what if she's
too
old to read them?  Did Zeke say how old she is?  What kind of music does she listen to?  You think she has any allergies?"

I laid a hand on his arm, biting back a laugh.  "I think we'll find out when we find out."

"How old do you think she is?  What about her name?"

I suppressed a smile.  "Should I consult my crystal ball?"

"Your what?"

"Never mind."

"What if she doesn't like us?"

"Rafael?"

"Yeah?"

"Calm down?"

"Okay."

He stalked off to the staircase at the back of the house.  I didn't bother picking up his scrubs.  I'm just as much of a slob as he is.  Probably the biggest downside about two guys living together.

I lit the hearth in the sitting room.  Nettlebush is hot during the day and cold during the night, no doubt influenced by the nearby desert.  I checked and made sure the doors were locked; and I climbed the staircase to the second floor.

Poor Rafael.  He hadn't gone to bed at all, but to the guest room--or the kid's room, I should say.  The walls were painted a mint green, a tall bookcase stacked next to the window.  Rafael plucked the books off the shelves, one by one, and dropped them to the floor.

"What are you doing?" I asked, leaning in the doorway.

"Getting rid of the scary ones."

When you first meet Rafael--hulking, scowling, and tattooed, his jaw square, his eyes mean--the last thing you expect him to be is neurotic.   I shook my head slightly.  I crossed the room--the carpet in bright pendleton shocks of red and blue--and pressed my hand against his back.  I felt his muscles relaxing beneath my palm.

"Come to bed," I said.  "Before your hair turns gray."

He actually ran his hand through his hair.

"Rafael," I said, trying to sound stern.  Not that I actually sounded stern.  I don't know how.  "We have to pick up my father tomorrow morning.  Remember?"

"Yeah," he mumbled, conceding defeat.  He turned and slinked out of the room.  He skulked across the hall.

I followed him into the bedroom.  He hooked his glasses on the bedpost for safe-keeping.  He wrestled with his shirt--tossing it violently aside--and shucked off his jeans.  He lay on the bed beneath glass ornaments and a beadwork eagle.

I tugged off my vest and pulled on his t-shirt.  His clothes are more comfortable to sleep in.

I lay down beside Rafael and observed him in the moonlight gleaming through the window.  His eyes were open, roaming across the ceiling.

I touched his hand.

"Is your dad gonna live with Racine?" he asked.

I nodded before I realized he wasn't looking my way.  Sometimes I still forget I can talk now.  "They're married," I said.  "That's what married people do."