St. Clair (Gives Light Series) (23 page)

both Dad and Granny were busy helping their

friends to make preparations for the festivities.

Any manner of tasks still needed to be completed,

from the construction of the pageant stage to the

knitting of the children's costumes.

Every day I tried to play the plains flute, but with

no success.

Mostly I just lay in my hospital bed and slept. I

don't know whether it was sickness, or

restlessness, or a combination of the two, but

whatever it was, I just couldn't keep my eyes open

longer than a few hours. My dreams were really

nutty, too. No more Skinwalkers, thankfully, but a

couple of winged raptors put in a decent

appearance. Danny Patreya would have liked

those.

The real surprise came when I woke in the middle

of the night--from a dream about Hannibal Lecter,

go figure--to find a God's Eye, a beadwork eagle,

and countless charcoal and color drawings pinned

to the hospital room walls, the lamp behind my bed

glowing dimly.

I reached behind me to raise the light and saw

Annie and Rafael curled up in the visitors' chairs.

Momentarily I thought I was still dreaming. Annie

was sleeping, snoring, her hair falling over the

side of her armrest. Rafael was awake, a

pendleton blanket folded at his side, a sketchbook

open on his lap and colored pencils behind his

ears.

He looked up when I adjusted the lamp. His eyes

widened in a way I didn't know how to read.

He set his sketchbook and his pencils aside. He

got up and strode over to the bed. He sat on the

side of the thin mattress, his leg tucked beneath

him.

His voice was low, so as not to wake Annie.

"Why didn't you tell us? We had to find out from

your grandma."

I rolled my shoulders in a shrug. I remembered to

smile.

"Don't give me that crap." His eyes were still

wide. "You could have e-mailed us about it. Do

you know how scared I am right now?"

I started to wave my hand, but I figured he

wouldn't appreciate that. I took his hand in mine.

It startled me when I realized his fingers were

trembling. But he gripped my hand, hard, and the

trembling seemed to stop.

The pilot whale bracelet around his wrist glinted

in the lamplight.

"When do you get out of here?"

January
, I signed. He read my hands without

recognition. I probably hadn't taught him the hand

signal for January yet.
January
, I fingerspelled,

slowly.

"And you'll be all better by then?"

I flashed him a teasing smile.

"It's not a joke, Sky. God..." Rafael ran his hands

over his face. "It's like that bastard keeps coming

back from the dead..."

I was alarmed. I'd never heard Rafael refer to his

father as "that bastard."

"You know what's funny? I thought I still loved

him. He did terrible things to a lot of people, but I

still loved him. How do you stop loving your

dad? But he almost killed you. Twice. I can't... I

don't love that."

I'm fine
, I signed.

"No. You're not. You've got poison in your body.

How can you call that 'fine'?"

I'll be fine
, I signed irritably. It wasn't Rafael I

was annoyed with. It was the way everyone kept

treating me like a delicate daisy.

I don't even like flowers.

"What happened?" I heard Annie say groggily. I

looked over in time to see her sitting up in her

chair, an imprint from the armrest shining on her

forehead.

"Sky's awake," Rafael said.

"Oh! Skylar, how
could
you--" Annie gasped.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"Late," Rafael said dryly.

"Oh, no, Granddad must be worried--"

"Why would he be worried? It's not like you're the

most radical person on the rez."

"Why, you--"

I tried whistling to get their attention. I couldn't do

that, either.

"Skylar," Annie said, and bent over the side of her

chair, scooping up a burlap bag. "I brought you

some almond cookies. I hope you can eat them."

That was really nice of you
, I signed.

"Don't be silly. We're friends. Just because you're

going to miss Christmas doesn't mean we can't

bring Christmas to you."

"You gonna dress up like the Gray Bear and put on

the pageant for him?" Rafael asked.

"If it comes to that, yes," Annie said firmly. "And

if I do, then I'll expect you to pitch in. Don't think

I've forgotten you played the Black Bear when you

were five."

"There's no way that costume still fits me."

I laughed sorely.
You guys don't have to do that
, I

signed.
Just get Zeke to dress up as Coyote and

we're solid.

"Hmm," said Annie, "now that you mention it, the

Coyote stories sound just like Zeke, don't they?

Yes, I'll guilt him into it. But Skylar, I'd better go

now. I told Granddad I'd be home by eight and

it's--

"Eleven-thirty," Rafael said.

"Terrific," Annie said. "Oh, well. I'll be back

tomorrow."

She took the cookie package from her burlap bag

and laid it on the table next to my bed. She kissed

me on the cheek and hastened out the door, her bag

hanging from her shoulder.

Rafael looked up at the towering IV bag. When he

looked at me, I thought I saw intimidation on his

face.

"You have no idea what it's like, seeing you like

this."

I touched his cheek. Above all else, I just didn't

want him to worry. I hate that, when someone you

love is in pain and there's nothing you can do to

stop it.

I wondered: Didn't he have to be home, too?

Rafael scowled. "I already told Uncle Gabe to

shove it. I'm staying here." The scowl wiped

away, his face softening. He linked his fingers

with mine. Unconsciously, like it was a built-in

reflex, he kissed the inside of my hand. Funny how

that still makes my knees feel weak.

There's nowhere for you to sleep
, I cautioned,

when he finally let go of my hand--but not a second

earlier.

"Annie's forehead says otherwise."

I snickered. He saw it and grinned. His grin was

so innocent, so irresistible, I wanted to throw him

down and kiss him, sickly as I felt.

I took a moment to admire the drawings on the

walls. I recognized the iconic Nai Nukkwi, a tiny

little girl bravely staring down the bears that stood

between her and her homeland. I laughed over a

sketch of Aubrey and Zeke, arrows helpfully

labeling them as "Ass Man" and "Bigger Ass

Man."

"Just in case you woke up with amnesia," Rafael

said. "You know, like when the chick wakes up

from surgery and asks, 'Where am I?' "

Somebody's been listening to too many soap

operas, I thought.

We stayed up until about one in the morning and

talked about everything and nothing. That's always

the way it is with Rafael. Occasionally the nurse

on call looked in on us and clucked her

disapproval, but didn't intervene. Rafael crumbled

up Annie's almond cookies and tried to feed me

some, but I pointed demonstratively at the IV bag.

"Okay," he said. "I'll make eggs when you're

feeling better." As much as it flattered me that he'd

remembered my favorite food, it terrified me that

he was considering going near a stove.

Rafael looked around for a clock. There wasn't

one. There wasn't a window, either. "You had

better go to sleep," he said ill-temperedly. "Not

that you haven't been sleeping all day, but you need

your rest if you're gonna beat this thing."

I wasn't really tired, but I suspected he was. I

smiled and lay back on the hospital bed. I patted

the spot next to me.

Rafael paused. "You sure?" he asked. "I'm okay

with the chair."

Don't be ridiculous
, I wanted to say.

He always knew what I wanted to say.

Tentative, Rafael lay next to me. It was kind of a

tight fit, but I didn't mind. I liked it. He turned

toward me, lying on his side. I could see the

uncertainty on his face. "You sure you're

comfortable?" he asked. I rolled my eyes. I

picked up his arm and draped it across my

shoulders.

He pressed his lips to my temple, then to my curls.

He breathed deeply. It felt like an elixir to me. It

sounded like a song. In that moment, I didn't mind

so much that I couldn't make music of my own.

Rafael was as good as his word. He stayed with

me the next day, and the next, and the next, and

pretty soon I realized he planned on staying in the

hospital for as long as I was confined. In

retrospect, it's really incredible that the staff didn't

throw him out. All he needed, he insisted, was his

sketchbook, his pendleton blanket, and a couple of

changes of clothes. Whenever I woke up, he was

next to me, drawing or arguing with the radio.

Whenever I went down the hall for radiation, he

walked with me, his hand on my back, if not

around mine, and waited outside the door until I

was finished. Walking out of those grueling

treatments to see Rafael sitting on the floor with

his sketchbook on his lap, his head bent, his hair

spilling over his shoulder, his earring dangling

next to his neck--it felt like a gift. I know that

sounds nuts. But everything about him was a gift.

Annie and Aubrey and Zeke came around during

the daytime and kept us up to date with whatever

was happening on the rest of the reservation. "No

sign from the contractors yet!" Zeke said. He was

actually wearing a coyote costume
. "And no

news is good news, of course," Aubrey added

gently, while he hung a piece of Indian holly from

the ceiling, known for its unique white berries.

"Look! It's mistletoe!" Aubrey said. "Well, not

real mistletoe, we killed all the real mistletoe--we

had to, you know, they were eating the ponderosas,

nasty habit of theirs--Zeke, are you alright?"

Zeke laughed himself into a fit of hysterics. Even I

didn't understand why. But then he pointed at the

bundled mistletoe, and Rafael scowled with

recognition.

"Holly," Rafael said. "Indian Holly."

The hospital was really lively on Christmas Eve.

The staff had decorated the walls with twinkling,

red-and-green lights, and there was even a plastic

Christmas tree standing next to the receptionist's

desk. The decorations, I knew, were for the

children's sake. The children's ward was jam

packed this year. Don't get the wrong impression.

Nettlebush is incredibly small; only about three

hundred people live on the reservation at any given

time. But when there are openings in the hospital,

and there usually are, Nettlebush likes to take on

patients that the big cities turned away. Most of

those patients are folks who just couldn't afford the

treatment they needed, so their local hospitals

chose to let them die instead. Money isn't an issue

in Nettlebush; since the beginning of time, the

Shoshone have employed a gift economy, the idea

that if everyone helps everyone, the Shoshone

nation thrives. I guess it works, because thousands

of years later, we're still using it. And I guess kids

must get sick easily around the holidays, because

Christmas is always the busiest time of year for the

Nettlebush Indian Hospital.

"Some kid's mom's running around with fruitcake,"

Rafael reported, sitting on the receptionist's desk.

Rafael must have gotten his hands on some,

because his mouth was suspiciously full.

"Would you get your butt out of my face?"

complained Ms. Bright, the receptionist.

I was due for my radiation treatment. Rafael

walked with me to the X-ray room.

"You don't need that IV anymore, right? You want

me to get you some fruitcake?"

I shook my head. I kissed his cheek and slipped

into the dark little room.

It was the same exhausting routine as every day.

Sit down, put on that awful mesh mask, wait for