Never Alone Read online

She shook her head. “Unbelievable. Will you trust me with these two? I promise to take good care of them.”

  I nodded reluctantly. I wasn't sure I wanted anyone else to see them, they felt so intensely personal, but it seemed silly to refuse.

  She carried them over to the counter and stood them carefully to one end, away from the pots.

  “Okay,” she said as she turned back to me. “Now, the other reason why you came to see me behind my dear sister's back.”

  All of a sudden, I felt very nervous, as if something momentous was about to happen. Mom was hiding something from me and I was about to find out what.

  “Aunt Lily…” I started, but she raised her hand to stop me.

  “It's Lily, not Aunt Lily. That makes me feel old. Go on.”

  “Lily,” I started again. It felt weird to call her by just her first name. “I know there's something Mom doesn't want me to find out, but I feel like I have to know. Do you understand?”

  She nodded. “I probably understand better than you think. I wasn't sure I was going to tell you either, but now that I've met you, well, I think you deserve to know. More importantly, I think you're ready to know.”

  “Know what?” I asked impatiently.

  She studied me for a second. “You've never been to a powwow, have you?”

  I blinked at the sudden change of subject. “Uh, no,” I said.

  She pursed her lips in a subconscious imitation of my mother. “Figures. It's a part of your heritage. If you want to learn about your family, you need to start by understanding where we come from. Our powwow is this weekend; it starts tomorrow actually. Can you get away to meet me there?”

  “Where is it? And what time?” I asked, trying to keep up with her.

  “It's not far from here, at the state park. And it goes all day, what time can you meet me?”

  “I get off work at three.”

  “That's perfect; some of the crowd will have thinned out by then. Meet me there at three-thirty.”

  “How will I find you?”

  “It won't be that hard, but I'll probably be in the arts and crafts tent. I help run it. Does that work?”

  I nodded.

  “Great, then it's settled. I'll see you tomorrow and we'll begin you're education.”

  “Aunt…I mean, Lily, my paper is due in two weeks.”

  “Right. It'll be a crash course then. I hate to run you off, but I need to get this pot finished now and start glazing those others.”

  “It's okay. I guess I'll see you tomorrow.” I stood up and shifted awkwardly, trying to decide how to say goodbye. Lily solved my dilemma by throwing her arms around me in a hug. Elmo jumped up and tried to wriggle in between us. We both laughed.

  “He can't stand to be left out. See you tomorrow, Jacy,” she said with a smile.

  Tomorrow, I thought as I left. Tomorrow I would begin learning about the part of my heritage that my parents, or more specifically, my mother, had decided not to teach me. And soon, I'd learn the big secret everyone seemed to be determined to hide. A feeling of anticipation was building inside me that I couldn't explain. I just had a feeling that something big was coming and nothing would be the same again once it arrived.

  I stood in front of my closet debating what to wear. What was appropriate attire for finding out your family's deepest, darkest secret? For that matter, what was proper attire for a powwow? I blindly grabbed a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and pulled them on. It's not like I had a lot to choose from anyway. With six kids, my parents didn't have a lot of money to spend on fashion and most of my money went to art supplies.

  Once dressed, I slipped quietly downstairs. I was hoping to make it out of the house without Mom giving me the third degree since she would demand to know where I was going and would no doubt flip out if I told her I was going to a powwow. I hated lying and I was no good at it anyway so there really wasn't much point. I lucked out and she was on the phone gossiping with one of her church friends, so I was able to make a clean escape.

  Or so I thought.

  Even though we didn't have a lot of money, my parents had found it convenient to get a third car for me. Not out of any consideration for my needs, but because it meant they wouldn't have to drive me anywhere, they could send me out on errands, and they didn't have to share a car with me. I had to maintain it, however. It wasn't much, just a slightly beat-up 1989 Honda Civic, but it ran and it was mine and that was enough for me. I pulled open the car door to find Michael and a girl tangled in the back seat.

  “What the hell?” I gasped as they both struggled to situate clothing and tuck various body parts back where they belonged.

  “Jacy!” Michael yelped. “Don't tell Mom!”

  “What are you doing in my car?” I demanded, but quickly realized what a stupid question that was. It was obvious what they'd been doing, and knowing Michael, he'd tell me in detail. “Never mind,” I added quickly. “I can see what you were doing. Mom will kill you if she finds out.”

  “That why I asked you not to tell her,” he whined.

  “What if she had been the one to catch you?”

  “She never drives your car. She calls it a piece of junk.”

  “Still, right here? In my car?”

  I'd been avoiding looking at the girl but risked a glance in her direction now. She was looking everywhere but at me, but I recognized her easily enough. She lived a few houses down and had a reputation for being easy. A well-earned reputation, I now knew.

  Michael shrugged with a cheeky grin.

  “It's not funny,” I snarled. “Get out - both of you. And I'm locking the car from now on. I don't even want to know how many times you've done this before.”

  I think he realized that I really was angry at this point. “I'm sorry, Jacy,” he said as he climbed out, looking only slightly disheveled. The girl climbed out after him, eyes still averted. “Look, it won't happen again, I promise.”

  “I know it won't, because if it does and I find out, you won't have to worry about Mom killing you -- I'll kill you. Damn, now I have to get the backseat disinfected.”

  “Don't be so uptight, Jace,” he said, struggling to keep from grinning again. “We were just fooling around. Just cuz you don't do it…”

  “Keep it up and I'll tell Mom,” I warned. He blanched at that. The girl seemed to have gotten bored because she suddenly turned and started walking away without a word.

  “Andrea, wait!” Michael called after her.

  “Screw yourself,” she snapped as she flipped him a rather rude and dismissive gesture and kept walking.

  I chuckled. “I guess that's what you'll be doing tonight,” I said as I climbed into the car. “I have to go, but this isn't over. We'll talk about this later.”

  Michael groaned. “Great, just what I need - a sex talk from my freakishly prudish big brother.”

  “Or it could come from Mom and Dad…”

  He sighed. “We'll talk later.”

  I shut the door and turned the key in the ignition. It came to life with a sputtering cough and I was on my way.

  Michael's sexual escapades had momentarily distracted me from my worrying, but now that I was alone, my anxiety came back with a vengeance. I tried turning on the radio and cranking it up loud, but not even Madonna could lift my spirits.

  I had no idea what Lily was going to tell me, but my overactive imagination had been busy coming up with all sorts of horrible scenarios. The one that seemed to best fit what little I knew was that I was adopted. Actually, that one really wasn't so bad. It would at least explain why I was so different from everyone else in my family. The only problem was that I looked too much like my mom's side of the family. Or maybe Dad wasn't really my father. Maybe I was a child of rape or Mom had had an affair or something like that. That might explain why Dad never seemed very interested in me. On the other hand, Dad was sort of distant with all us kids, not just me in particular.

  My mind kept offering up one possibility after another, each one darker than th
e one before, until I finally reached the site of the powwow. It was held in a wooded part of the local state park. There were several people milling about directing parking and taking admission. Lily hadn't mentioned paying to get in. I dug out my wallet, hoping I'd have enough cash to get in. I did, but barely.

  I followed the crowds toward the actual powwow site. Once there, I just stopped and took it all in for a minute. I was a little shocked at the size of the crowd. There were easily hundreds and maybe thousands of people present, many in full regalia - something I'd only seen on TV before this. There was some sort of demonstration going on in the center of a large roped off circle, a group of drummers sat off to one side pounding a large hide-covered drum and chanting. The drumming seemed to pull at me and I found myself moving steadily closer to the circle, squeezing between the other spectators. I stopped just short of the rope and watched a young man not much older than me whirling rapidly around the circle. He was only wearing leather and feathers and not much of either, but it was his dancing that held me enthralled. His feet almost seemed a blur as he executed the elaborate footwork.

  “He's good, isn't he?” A woman asked from nearby. I turned to see an older woman sitting in a lawn chair. Her gray hair was held back with a leather thong and she was wearing a brightly patterned cotton dress. She smiled at me and nodded toward the young dancer.

  “He's very good,” I said.

  “He's my grandson,” she said, pride glowing in her voice. “Not too many of the young ones dance these days. There are only a few others in his league. He has a good chance of winning this year.”

  “It's a competition?” I asked.

  “Oh yes,” she said, sounding surprised. “Not right now, of course. This is just exhibition dancing. Is this your first time here?”

  I nodded.

  She looked confused for a minute. “You're of the blood though, right?”

  It was my turn to look confused.

  “You're Indian?” she clarified.

  “Oh. Yes.”

  She smiled again. “Thought so. At least I'm not that feeble yet. You look a bit familiar. Do you have a name?”

  I blushed at my bad manners and extended my hand. “I'm sorry. My name is Jacy Elliott.”

  She took my hand as her eyes widened. “You're Glen and Rose's oldest?”

  “You know my parents?”

  “Let's just say that I'm no longer surprised that this is your first time at a powwow,” she said with a kind smile. “I'm glad you're here now. It's good that you are trying to learn about your heritage.”

  I decided not to enlighten her that it had been Lily's idea and simply nodded.

  She watched her grandson for a few seconds, then said, “You know, your father used to be quite a competitor.” As hard as I tried, I just couldn't picture my father out here dancing. “He was quite a loss when he and Rose stopped attending the events. You were just a tiny baby at the time.” I noticed she didn't say that Mom was a loss.

  The conversation dried up and we watched in silence while her grandson finished dancing.

  “I have to go find my aunt now,” I told her. “It was nice meeting you.”

  She smiled at me again. “The pleasure was mine. And by the way, my name is Celia Vessey. Tell Lily I said hello.”

  I stopped, startled. “How'd you know it was Lily that I was going to find?”

  She laughed. “Because, she's the only one of those girls that still comes to the powwow.”

  Feeling rather foolish, I said goodbye and went to find the arts and crafts tent. There were quite a few tents set up around the perimeter of the powwow grounds, most set in a rough circle that echoed the one at its center. The majority of the booths held various Native-style jewelry, clothes, and books. Some of the jewelry was high quality, but some of it looked as if it had been mass-produced in China. There were several booths selling a flat piece of fried dough called fry bread. It looked and smelled delicious, but I'd used almost all my money just to get in and couldn't afford to buy any. I finally found the arts and crafts tent, which was slightly larger than the others and marked with a sign that read: “Local Artists and Craftspeople. A portion of the proceeds goes to the tribal association.”

  I slipped inside and found that the tent was pretty much deserted except for Lily, two older women in canvas director's chairs, a middle-aged man who was browsing, and a young man wearing full regalia and facing away from me, his tanned bare back arched gracefully as he bent to look closer at a painting. I gasped when I realized it was my paintings - the one of the male nude - and the landscape was hanging right next to it.

  At my gasp, Lily turned to see me. “Jacy!” she said, obviously pleased to see me. “I wasn't sure you'd actually come.”

  The young man stood and turned to face me as well. I felt my face flush as I recognized the guy from work.

  He arched an eyebrow. “Fancy meeting you here, Crossing Guard.”

  “You two know each other?” Lily asked, sounding very surprised.

  “No,” I said quickly.

  “We've not been formally introduced,” he said after a beat. “But we've met.”

  “Jacy, this is Skye Morgan. Skye, this is my nephew Jacy Elliott.”

  Skye held out his hand and I didn't have a choice but to shake it. It felt like an electric shock as his hand touched mine.

  “That was his painting you were just looking at,” Lily went on, much to my horror.

  Skye's eyes widened and he turned back to the painting. “You did that?” he said, sounding impressed. He glanced back at me. “Nice work, Crossing Guard.”

  “Crossing guard?” Lily asked.

  Skye laughed. “Jacy stopped me the other day as I was leaving Dairy Queen to tell me to be careful crossing the street.”

  I don't think I could have been any more embarrassed at that point. Lily looked at me with a questioning gaze, but I couldn't even meet her eyes. I was wishing fervently that I'd never come to this stupid powwow.

  “Well, I'd like to stay and chat but I have to go get ready. I'm dancing soon,” Skye said, his eyes never leaving my face. “Come see me. I'm good.” With a final smile, he left the tent. I stood staring after him, my mouth agape and my heart pounding.

  “Smug bastard,” Lily said as soon as he was gone, but she was grinning as she said it. “He is good and he damn well knows it. Still, you can't help but like him.” She turned back to me and her grin widened. “I see you're not immune to his charm.”

  I felt my blush deepen.

  “Don't sweat it,” she said. “So what's the whole story behind that crossing guard thing?”

  “There is no story,” I mumbled, unwilling to tell anyone about the strange occurrence.

  “Bullfeathers,” my aunt scoffed. “Give me a little credit. Unless you expect me to believe you just go around telling random strangers to be careful crossing the street. Or maybe it's just the cute strangers?”

  “I don't want to talk about it,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “Jacy, you're going to have to trust me.”

  I threw a meaningful glance in the direction of the two older women who were pretending not to listen but obviously were. Much to my relief, Lily understood immediately.

  “Let's go for a walk,” she suggested. She turned to the two women. “You two can hold down the fort while I'm gone, right?”

  They agreed and Lily and I made our exit. Once outside, we walked aimlessly into the trees.

  “Okay, now let's hear it,” she said.

  “First, why are my paintings in there? Were you trying to sell them?”

  “No, I brought it along to show to someone who was going to be here. I didn't want to just set them on the ground so I hung them up. They're clearly marked as not for sale, but if they were for sale I probably could have sold them several times over today.”

  “Really?” I asked, pleased in spite of myself.

  “Yes, really. They've been getting a lot of attention today, much to the dismay of the
two old biddies you saw in there. They're both artists and several of the other paintings are theirs. If you ask me, they're a little jealous. But anyway, what happened with Skye?”

  I sighed. There was going to be no getting around it. I quickly told her the whole story, trying to gloss over the vision as much as possible. When I was finished, she walked quietly for a few minutes.

  Finally, she said, “I think I made the right decision bringing you here today.”

  I looked over at her. “What do you mean?”

  She stopped walking. “Jacy, you've been raised white. Rose and Glen made that choice when you were just a baby and they were born again -- and, as adults, that was their prerogative. But by doing so, they denied you your culture. You know nothing about who you are, but, as the saying goes, blood always tells. Just because you don't know about your heritage doesn't make who you are go away. There are…let's just say there are certain hereditary traits awakening in you right now.”