Jess couldn't stop staring at her brother or wanting to touch him. She kept thinking that at any minute she might wake up from a dream and he would be gone or next time she would try to touch him, feel his warm living flesh, her fingers might just slip through cold nothingness.
He looks so much like Daddy, she thought as she watched him wash the supper dishes in the sink, but he's much more animated, more like Mama. At the thought of her mother, Jess sighed to herself and turned her attention back to unpacking her things. Was it wrong of her to avoid making the call? To dread doing it? Her parents lived so far from any type of medical attention. What if Mama's heart couldn't handle the stress? There were so many 'what ifs'. Feeling anxiety rising in her throat, Jess's fingers sought the gold locket around her neck and she fingered it as she tried to tame the internal whirlwind of thoughts. Finally, she decided, Best if I just stop worrying about it now. I'll call Mama and Daddy when we know the whole story. She brushed her hair out of her face and unzipped her duffel bag.
From the kitchen, she heard Johnny call, "Hey, Jess, looks like Chet got your car running again and he's here to drop it off. I'm gonna go show him where to park it."
"Okay," She replied as her brother slipped out the door. At least it was an easy fix and I don't have to pay a garage bill!
She pulled a couple pairs of shorts from her bag as she rummaged through to find a comfortable pair of pjs to sleep. Stuffed in the bottom of her bag was a well worn stuffed animal and as Jess lifted it from the bag, she felt tears well in her eyes. It was a coyote, handmade by her Grandmother for a five year old Johnny nearly twenty years ago. When he was little, he had loved to listen to the coyotes bark and yelp in the evenings. She remembered sitting on the back steps of the house with her twin, yelping and hollering to try to get the coyotes to respond.
Diddi Itsappe, Grandmother had called him, meaning little coyote. After his death, she had taken his coyote everywhere with her and it still accompanied her to this day. She sat criss-cross on the bed as she set the stuffed animal in her lap and looked at it for a while, trying to keep her emotions in check. The past two days had been quite the rollercoaster ride and her emotional state had been fluctuating and plummeting and everything in between. I wonder if he remembers this old thing?
E!
After convincing Chet that he didn't need a hug and kiss as a thank you from his sister, Johnny hopped in the driver's seat to crank up the windows. When he reached to take the keys from the ignition, something caught his eye. A picture was tucked in the dash over the tachometer. It was well-loved, the color had faded and the edges were bent, but it was still clear. There was Jess, her arms wrapped around the waist of a young man who was smiling down at her.
Odd, she said that she hadn't been lucky in love lately, Johnny's eyebrows dropped low over his hooded eyes. They sure look awful lovey-dovey. He carefully pulled the picture from it's place to look closer. "By Jove!" He exclaimed aloud. The man was Mikey Dakayivani, Johnny's best friend as a child. The closest non-relative neighbor, he and Mikey had been inseparable as boys. Turning the picture over, he discovered a note scrawled in faded pencil on the back. 'With all my love. Please be safe, May God be with you'.
Was Mikey Dakayivani dating his sister? Had they recently broken up? Were they 'taking a break'? Johnny was intrigued so he grabbed the keys, locked the car door and went bounding back in the apartment bursting with curiosity.
"Jess!" He discarded the keys on the kitchen counter with a loud clatter. He held the picture up in the air. "Is this Mikey Dakayivani? You two are dating?!" He bounded into the bedroom and flopped unceremoniously down in the bed beside her and shoved the picture in front of her face.
Jess seemed a little taken back but she recovered her wits and took the picture from his hand and lowered it to her lap slowly. "Engaged, actually." She said quietly, tracing Mikey's face with her finger.
"Far out!" Johnny leaned back on his elbows. "At the hospital it sounded like you weren't in a relationship, though."
"I'm not," Jess's voice sounded heavy.
Johnny was genuinely confused now. "Huh?"
Jess reached into her duffle bag, this time pulling out a beaded chain adorned with two dangling silver plates, and handed it to her brother.
Dogtags. Johnny felt his stomach drop to his toes. He cradled the tags in his palm as he read his friend's engraved name. "'Nam?"
Jess nodded and pursed her lips. She scooted herself so she was facing her brother. "We started goin' steady when we were 16," A wistful smile graced her face as her eyes stared off into space. "He was drafted when he was 19. A week before he shipped out he gave me this ring," her fingertips grazed the gold ring on the chain around her neck. "Told me that when he came back he would make me his wife." She chuckled a little forlornly. "That was the longest year of my life. We wrote letters back and forth. Pretty passionate letters,"
Johnny chuckled knowingly until he saw Jess's face grow solemn again.
"He was wounded in a skirmish; shot in the arm while pulling injured friends to the helicopter so they could get out. He told me that they almost amputated his arm but he begged and pleaded for them not to. It was messed up bad enough that they sent him home."
Johnny started to feel sick to his stomach. I was pretty sure he knew where the story was going. He saw it all too often as a paramedic.
"You remember Dad's brother Lee telling all those war stories from when he fought the Germans? How the troops coming home were celebrated as heros?"
Johnny nodded. His uncle's stories had captivated him as a child.
"When Mikey got off the plane, he had eggs thrown at him. People with signs called him 'baby killer'. They spat at him." She shook her head in disgust. "He didn't want to go to war, Johnny. He cried like a baby when he got that draft notice. He didn't deserve that." Jessica's amber eyes were misty with grief. "He wasn't the same anymore. He didn't smile or laugh anymore. Just always angry, always on edge. He would wake up screaming and sweating. He was miserable. Mikey always had a tender heart, always cared for people. 'Nam broke him, just shattered who he was, so he started drinking and when the drinking wasn't enough he turned to drugs."
This narrative was all too familiar for Johnny. "He couldn't handle it, could he?"
Jess's chin dropped and she traced her fiancee's figure on the photograph. "That day, he was supposed to come by the house for lunch, but he never showed. I didn't want to think it, but in my heart I knew. Dad and the boys found him out on the prairie about a mile from his house."
Johnny knew all too well that that could have been him. At the time of the war, he had been the sole provider for his Aunt Rita, saving him from that hell. He thanked his lucky stars every time they did a welfare check on a vet.
He reached out and gripped Jess's hand. "I'm sorry, Jess."
"Things back home are different, John. There's drugs everywhere. Half the people in our school class are dead or missing or in jail."
Her words hit Johnny hard. Yes, he knew things would be different than when he was ten years old but it hearing it come from somebody else's mouth was strange. He hadn't really thought about going home yet. Was it home to him?
Changing the subject before feelings could overwhelm him, Johnny said, "I have tomorrow off too before I go back to work. I have friends in the police force; I'm gonna talk to them about the situation and see what the best course of action is. Then I'm gonna go talk to Auntie Rita."
E!
Roy felt very uncomfortable. Yes, he was honored that Johnny had asked him to accompany him on the very serious visit to Auntie Rita, but Roy also felt that this was a family matter or a matter for the police.
Beside him, he could sense that Johnny was bristling. He had his fists shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket, his chin low and his eyes were burning. On the drive over he had asked Roy if he could smoke a cigarette. Not once had Roy seen Johnny smoke a cigarette.
The heels of Johnny's worn cowboy boots tapped briskly against the concrete sidewalk as Roy basically jogged to keep up with his long-legged partner.
When Johnny had filled Roy in on the story, Roy was shocked. He had met Johnny's aunt a few times and she had always been gracious and welcoming. There hadn't been a malicious bone in her body. Besides, why would an aunt take her sister's son? It made no sense. What also comforted him was knowing that Officer Drew Burke, a close friend of Johnny's, was on his way to accompany the pair on their quest for the truth.
When they reached the walkway, Johnny squared up with the house and straightened his shoulders.
"Are you sure about this? The police could handle it-"
"No," Johnny cut Roy off. "I need to hear it for myself, from her." He took a deep breath and charged up the sidewalk to the front door. He didn't knock, but instead walked right in. "Auntie Rita?" He called out.
The house smelled homey, like fresh peanut butter cookies hot from the oven, like Sunday dinners and backyard summer barbeques.
A short woman came busling from the kitchen, wiping her flour covered hands on a dish towel. When she saw John, she stopped, tilted her head to the side and smiled. "Duibittse! (nephew!) Come here and give your Auntie a hug!" She extended her pudgy arms in their direction. Johnny stepped forward and gave his auntie a hug and kissed her cheek. "Enee! You are skinny! Have you been eating enough?" She patted Johnny's stomach.
"Yes, Auntie, I've been eating fine." Johnny's tone wasn't quite so angry as it had been before, but it wasn't happy either. "You remember Roy DeSoto? I work with him."
"Ahh, yes! Good to see you, Roy!" Rita's dark brown eyes disappeared into the folds of her skin when she smiled at Roy and reached to hug him.
Roy nervously patted her back as reciprocation.
"To what reason do I owe this visit?" Rita questioned, beckoning the two to make themselves comfortable in the living room.
The room was decorated with tribal accents and momentos. Roy sat down on the edge of an armchair as John took a seat on the couch beside his aunt. An awkward silence ensued as John propped his elbow on his knee and stared at the floor for a minute. Roy could see the gears turning in his partner's head so he waited patiently. This wasn't his conversation to start.
"The other day," Johnny began, still staring at the floor. "I met Jess." He lifted his eyes to see if his aunt reacted.
"Jess? Who is Jess?"
Johnny clenched his jaw. "Jessica. Jessica Kimana Gage. My sister,"
Rita laughed once but Roy could tell she was suddenly on edge. "What do you mean?"
"Auntie," Johnny's voice was getting angrier. "My twin sister. Who is very much alive and well and who tells me that the rest of the family is too,"
Rita and Johnny stared at each other, squaring off mentally. Johnny's fists constricted and his jaw muscles flicked in his cheeks. Rita had a half smile on her face as she narrowed her eyes and slowly shook her head.
"No," She drawled slowly. "You must be mistaken…"
"Rita!" Johnny roared. Both Roy and Rita jumped at his outburst. "Tell me the truth!" He shouted.
"You have been smoking! Like all those kids nowadays! You do not know what you are talking about!" The older woman's silver head bobbed as she made dramatic hand motions as she spouted off something in her native language.
Roy heard a car's engine sputter to a stop in the driveway and looked out the window to see a white police car with two dark blue uniforms step out. Thank God. Johnny was shouting back at his aunt and she was on her feet, screaming back at him as she flicked the dish towel in his face while making dismissive hand motions. Neither of them heard the knock at the door so Roy jumped to get it, thankful to see friendly faces.
Officer Drew Burke's eyebrows heightened when he heard the yelling from inside. "Yikes,"
"Tell me about it," Roy sighed. "What's the plan?"
"Well," Drew rubbed the back of his neck, "we're going to have to arrest Johnny's aunt. Kidnapping is a felony and because of the serious nature of the crime there isn't a statute of limitations on it."
"Are you sure there isn't a logical explanation?"
Drew shrugged. "Doesn't sound like Johnny's getting very far with that. Maybe in an interrogation room she might feel a little differently."
Roy moved aside to let the police officers inside. When the blue uniforms appeared in the doorway, Aunt Rita's eyes got as wide as saucers before they blackened. "You snake!" She hissed at Johnny and slapped him across the cheek with an open palm.
Johnny's head jerked to the side. Roy could only pray that Johnny kept his temper in check. Johnny stood still for a second, running his tongue over his teeth and breathing deeply. "Auntie Rita," He growled. "You tell me the truth...now...or these men will take you." He demanded, jabbing a finger in Drew's direction.
"Your family is dead, nephew! They died in Wind River!"
Johnny stepped back from his aunt, shaking his head. "You leave me no choice, Auntie!"
Drew Burke began to approach the older woman, but Rita drew back like a frightened cat as the two men in blue came for her. When they placed her hands behind her back and began to escort her to the cruiser, she began to shriek and cry. Roy had never heard such a sound before. Something in it was wild, almost primal. Even Drew and his partner seemed a bit taken back. Only Johnny remained stoic, hands on his hips and brooding gaze fixated on his aunt.
Roy and Johnny watched Drew open the back door of the cruiser as his partner placed a hand on Rita's silver haired head as she slid into the back seat.
"Roy," Johnny's voice was low and tired. "What have I done?"
"You did what you needed to, Johnny!" Roy tried to reassure him. "You deserve to know the truth!"
"Roy, that woman raised me." Johnny was a million miles away as he watched the cruiser back out of the driveway. The red and blue lights flashed across his face, illuminating the sorrow that haunted his eyes. "She made me who I am! And I just fed her to the wolves. Oh Lord forgive me," Covering his face with his hands, Johnny squatted to the ground. "What have I done?"
E!
Roy helped Johnny close up Rita's house and drove him home. They sat on Johnny's couch for a long time, beers in hand, not saying anything until the phone rang.
"Hello, this is John Gage," Johnny sighed wearily.
"Hey Johnny, this is Drew. So we made a few calls and we think we might have found something."
"Oh yeah?"
"There was a fatal house fire on the Wind River Reservation back in the '40s with two fatalities. We weren't able to find any names though."
Johnny was silent. How come he had never heard of this tragedy growing up? Wind River was a tight knit community where everybody knew everybody and everything.
Drew continued, "We also found some records that show that Rita was put into psychiatric care for a few months in 1950 but checked herself out of the facility before she was done with treatment." Then he paused, "I think I should tell you John," He paused again, "Your aunt has been showing some distressing signs; confusion, outbursts and severe anxiety. We think she might be headed towards a mental breakdown so we're bringing in a psychiatrist to evaluate her."
Johnny sucked in a large lungful of air and slowly released it. "Ok,"
"Um," Drew fumbled for words on the other end of the line. "I know it's a big ask, but…but it might help if you came in to help talk to her. She keeps rambling in some language. Nothing I've ever heard before."
Johnny ran his free hand through his dark locks and muttered an expletive under his breath. "Alright, I'll be there in twenty minutes. Seeya, Drew." He slammed the receiver into the cradle and stood still for a minute.
From the couch, Roy asked, "Everything ok, Johnny?"
"They're bringing in a shrink. They want me to come in."
Roy sat in silence. He didn't know what to say. "Do you want a ride?"
Johnny continued to stare at the wall and shook his head. "It's late. Go home to Joanne and the kids, Roy."
Roy discerned the end of the conversation so he got up to leave, squeezing Johnny's shoulder on the way out.
Johnny's heart felt heavy. Imagining his sweet Auntie Rita sitting in an interrogation room surrounded by strangers, alone, confused and terrified tore at his heartstrings. He loved that woman dearly but at the same time, he felt deeply resentful. Something was amiss, something had been hidden, that he could sense.
The drive to the police station felt like an eternity. When Johnny arrived, he was escorted to the back of the station. Passing through the hallways he met many familiar faces, each of which smiled at him sympathetically. Finally arriving at the one way glass that looked into the interrogation room, Johnny felt a wave of grief wash through his bones.
Rita sat on a single chair on the far side of the table. Her arms were clasped over her chest in a protective manner as she rocked back and forth, mumbling and shaking her head. Her plump cheeks were wet with silent tears.
"I'm sorry you had to see her this way, John." Drew Burke's voice hardly cut through Johnny's thoughts. "This is our resident shrink, Bill Andrews."
A short but fit man with a thick head of gray hair stuck out his meaty hand welcomingly. Johnny stared at it for a second before he found footing in the swirling sea of thoughts and shook it.
"John Gage, the nephew?" Andrews' perceiving eyes seemed to pierce their way intrusively into Johnny's thoughts.
Johnny nodded slowly.
"Well, first of all, I am truly sorry about this...situation. It is truly unfortunate."
Unfortunate, Johnny inwardly scoffed.
"I have tried to talk to your aunt but unfortunately I did not get far. She refuses to speak in English. I assume what she is speaking is her native language?"
Johnny nodded again and leaned his shoulder against the cool cinder block wall. "Shoshone,"
"Ah, well, I believe that Rita is experiencing a mental breakdown. Her life that she has built up, whether it is built on fact or fiction, is all deteriorating before her eyes. That can be extremely distressing for anybody. Especially for somebody with pre existing mental issues. I was hoping you would be willing to translate for me. Hopefully having you there will also help with her distress."
Johnny didn't know if he was ready to face his aunt yet. He was still struggling to process everything but the door to the interrogation room was swung open before him and he stood there as his and his aunt's eyes met.
Rita's reddened eyes sparked with life for a second. "Matty!" She cried out.
Feeling Andrews' hand on his back, gently pushing him farther into the room, Johnny inhaled deeply. "No, Auntie Rita, it's me-"
"Matty, my son!" Rita wailed again.
Johnny felt like his heart was being pulled in two. He wanted to detest this woman but seeing her in such a vulnerable state dissipated any anger that he could muster.
The next half hour was the longest thirty minutes of Gage's life. Rita kept mumbling away in Shoshone, as if nobody else in the room existed. Sometimes she would stare at Johnny's face, caress it lovingly while muttering "Matty" over and over.
Once realizing that it was no good, Andrews called it quits. He pulled Johnny and the other officers from the room.
"Maybe we'll try again tomorrow. Let everybody get some sleep. What time can you be here tomorrow morning?" Andrews asked Johnny as he buttoned up his briefcase.
"Uh, I'm on shift tomorrow but I can come by early tomorrow morning before my shift if that helps."
Andrews shook Johnny's hand enthusiastically. "Anything will help, Gage, anything." He patted the paramedic's shoulder as he brushed past.
Even though it was late, instead of going home, Johnny went to Rita's house. The memory of the way she said the name 'Matty' and the way she looked at him when she said it haunted him. It was different than how she had ever looked at him before. Maybe doing some digging would uncover the answer. He knew that she kept pictures and family things in a few boxes in her bedroom closet. When he was young she had forbidden him from looking at them, telling him that it would be too painful for him to remember the family that he had lost.
But what was actually in those boxes? Curiosity plagued him until he pulled into the driveway of his childhood home. Johnny found it odd that now the house that had once been his home, his place of refuge, was now somehow tainted.
He had to remind himself that the memories that he made here were real, the happiness that he had felt growing up here was real. Those memories didn't have to be contaminated as well. Once inside the house, he didn't need to turn on any lights; he knew his way around this house like the back of his hand. He had snuck in and out many many times back in his highschool days.
The boxes were right where he thought they would be. Stuffed in a corner of Rita's bedroom closet, covered with odds and ends almost like she was trying to hide them.
I wonder when the last time somebody saw these was? He wondered to himself as he plopped down criss-cross on the floor. The next hour was spent filtering through old fragile photographs, pictures of his grandparents, his mother and aunts and uncles as children and of his cousins as babies. Seeing all the faces again was like a sucker punch to the gut. What did all these babies look like now? Was this person still alive? How much has changed in thirteen years? He found one picture of his family, taken shortly before 'the fire'. They were all standing on the front steps of Mama and Daddy's house, all dressed up for what could have been Easter or something.
There was Kimana, or Kimmy as Daddy had always called her, standing proudly like a mother hen behind all her babies. Tall and lean Roderick Gage stood beside her, one arm around her shoulders with a cigar dangling from his lips.
I wonder if he still smokes those things like they're good for him, Johnny chuckled. The smell of cigars always reminded him of his father.
In front of the pair were the five siblings lined up in order of age. The eldest, Kevin, stared out at the camera with an uncooperative glare, as sixteen year old boys do. Then was Elizabeth, fourteen at the time, smiling sweetly in a dress that Johnny was sure Daddy had complained about being a tad too short. The middle child, Willie, two years to Johnny's senior and his partner in crime, had his eyes closed, no doubt deliberately. At the tail end of the pack stood the two twins; little Jessica and John. Johnny laughed a little at the missing teeth that marred their innocent smiles.
This picture, he decided to keep and set it aside while he continued to comb through the pieces and fragments of his past. When he came to the end of the last box he was beginning to become dejected until his fingers brushed an envelope stuffed into the corner.
The pictures in this envelope were of people he had never seen before. The only face he recognized was a much younger Rita. Rita was photographed many times holding a baby and eventually the baby transitioned into a young child. He found newspaper clippings dated 1946 about a disastrous house fire that resulted in two fatalities, a six year old boy named Matthew and his father, Lemhi Ariwite. The only survivor was the wife...Rita Ariwite.
Johnny read the article again and again to make sure he read it correctly. My cousin and uncle died in a fire three years before I was born, Johnny felt like his head was about to explode.
There were just a few more pictures paperclipped together in the envelope; the first few were black and white photos of a burned house. The figures in the picture wore uniforms, it seemed as though they were investigators. Crime scene photos? Johnny wondered. Was it an arson? Carefully studying each snapshot with a careful eye, he kept flipping through the stack till he reached the last three.
"Ah, shoot," He exhaled slowly. Two unrecognizable bodies, a child and an adult. From what he saw on the pictures, it looked as though they had been trying to escape when the upper floor gave way to the inferno. He growled an expletive and let the pictures flutter to the ground like falling leaves. He was a seasoned firefighter, but not immune to the raw reality of his profession and he prayed he never would be.
Johnny rubbed his thumb across his temple and glanced at the alarm clock beside Rita's bed. Oof, he thought as the clock blinked 11:25, way past my bedtime! He grabbed the envelope, scooped the fire scene pictures from the floor and fumbled for the lightswitch on his way out the door. Maybe tomorrow would bring the answers that he was looking for.
It only seemed like a short time later that Johnny was rudely awakened by his blaring alarm. Not wanting to awaken his sister sleeping in the bedroom, he scrambled to shut off the abrasive noise before stretching the stiffness out of his limbs. The couch was just not quite long enough to comfortably accommodate his six foot frame.
Johnny rushed to throw on his clothes and leapt in the car to speed to the police station, where he knew Andrews would be waiting.
Once again ushered into the back, this time into the break room where the silver-haired evaluator sat at a table, steaming cup of hot coffee in hand.
"Morning, Gage!" His voice was perky and alert, exactly the opposite of how Johnny felt after his late night but he managed to draw out some enthusiasm when he smacked the envelope down on the table in front of Andrews.
"Remember how she kept calling me Matty? Matty died twenty-six years ago." Johnny pulled a chair out with his leg and plopped down on it as he leaned on the table. He pointed at the envelope. "It's all in there."
Andrews steadily met Johnny's gaze and took a long sip of coffee. "Do you drink decaf?"
Johnny found this man's passive response to his find to be quite annoying. "No," Johnny snapped, "I don't drink decaf."
"Well," Andrews cleared his throat and set the mug back down. "Then you'll have to wait for the next pot. Let's see what you have here, shall we?"
As Andrews carefully studied each piece in the envelope, Johnny's foot tapped anxiously on the floor.
"How is she? Where did she stay last night?" He questioned.
"Rita stayed here overnight. They are serving her breakfast right now," Andrews' eyes never left the pictures.
Johnny winced at the thought of Auntie Rita alone in a cell in the state that she had been in. He felt guilt start to creep into his thoughts but he pushed it down. After what seemed like an eternity, Andrews finally put everything back into the envelope. "Well, let's go see your aunt."
They returned to the same interrogation room and waited while officers escorted Rita into the room.
Johnny thought that she looked even worse than he knew he did. Dark bags under her eyes signalled little to no sleep. She still had a far away look in her eyes, like she had detached herself from reality. Her hair, normally pulled back into a neat bun at the top of her neck, was frazzled and her clothes wrinkled, a far cry from the put together woman that Johnny had always known.
"Well, Gage," Andrews rested a hand on the doorknob and looked at the paramedic. "Are you ready to see if we can get some answers today?"
Johnny was not ready. He didn't know if he ever would be but this wasn't something that would just go away. This was something that was going to change almost everything. He nodded to the evaluator and stepped into the room.