Chapter 8- Investigations and Visitors arrive
Reader's pov:
Bruce sat in front of the computer trying to figure out where the bus Roberta was on would be going into New York. Roberta had said that she had lived on a reservation, but that didn't do much for him since his search engine had come up with two reservations. One was in Upstate New York; the other was close to the River Ohio.
Bruce rubbed his eyes tiredly and nearly jumped as Rachel wrapped her arms around him, kissing his cheek. "Did you find her?" Rachel asked, sitting down on his lap.
"I'm working on it. There are two reservations that she could possibly be at. There's the one in New York or she could have changed buses and gone to the one on the Ohio River. I don't know, Rachel. Why didn't she ask us if she could go? I would have let her if she asked," Bruce said wearily.
"I don't know, Bruce. I think she's scared. If I found out that the people who raised me weren't my parents and I had to live with two people I didn't know, I'd be frightened too. I think Roberta feels as if she lives with us she's going to lose what she has had for the last 12 years. She wants to hold on to it," Rachel said, rubbing Bruce's cramped shoulders gently.
"I love you," Bruce said, smiling.
"I know. And if Roberta does come back we have to show her every day that we love her. That I didn't lie in that hospital bed for nearly two days because we didn't love her," Rachel said as the phone rang.
Bruce picked it up, hoping it was Roberta. "Hello?" Bruce answered hoping Roberta was calling.
"Bruce Wayne?" Another man's voice asked on the line.
"Yes?" Bruce Wayne asked.
"I'm Patrick Hamilton," the other man said. Bruce closed his eyes heavily. It was the man who had taken his daughter!
"Is Roberta all right?" Bruce asked in a voice he didn't recognize as his own.
"She's here on the reservation. I told her that I'd call you so you could come get her yourself," Patrick said, surprising Bruce.
"Why are you doing this?" Bruce asked.
"Whether you believe me or not I never would have taken your daughter, Wayne. I wanted a son or daughter, but not at the expense of what you and your wife suffered," Patrick said.
"Then why didn't you check the facts before you accepted my baby as yours?" Bruce asked through clenched teeth.
"I don't know! All I know is that we've got a frightened little girl here who's afraid she's losing everything she loves. Right now she needs support and love from her mom and dad. All four of us," Patrick said, his voice like steel.
"You and your wife are not her mom and dad," Bruce said.
"We might as well be. She's been calling me "Daddy" since she came to live with us. You may have given her life, but we gave her love and we raised her," Patrick said.
"What reservation are you living on?" Bruce asked, this battle taking more out of him than he was willing to admit to anyone.
"The reservation's in upstate New York. It's on the Susquehanna River," Patrick said.
"All right. Me and my wife, Rachel will be there as soon as we can. Does Roberta know we're coming?" Bruce asked, writing down what Patrick just told him on a pad of paper.
"She thinks I'm calling you in two days. I told her she could get her strength back since she's nearly dead on her feet," Patrick said.
"All right. Thank you," Bruce said. He disconnected the line.
"Is she all right?" Rachel asked a worried look in her brown eyes.
"Yes. She doesn't know we are coming though. Rachel, she's in Upstate New York. I told him we'd both come down there," Bruce said.
"If that's what you told him then let's go. Are you going to tell her that that you caught her running away?" Rachel asked as they made their way to their bedroom.
"How do I tell her that I caught her doing that while I was Batman? The safest thing to say is that Batman told us what she was doing," Bruce said as they packed their suitcases.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Roberta/Rachel's POV:
Now I know that I was supposed to be resting, but after a few hours of sleep I was out with the best of the Seneca women. For centuries Seneca women did everything in the way of being homemakers. They were the ones who picked the crops while the husbands and sons hunted.
These days husbands and sons don't have to hunt quite as much, but a woman's job never ends. We get the firewood while the men gather in the meeting longhouses and smoke ceremonial pipes and gamble at times. The only men in the village that didn't participate in gambling were my father, grandfather, and uncle. To them gambling was a sin and the other men of the village didn't pressure them to join in the games.
The air was still a little nippy as we made our way to the cornfields. I was with my cousins and all of us had gathering baskets attached to burden-straps. The women of our tribe still wouldn't ask the men to carry the baskets when they were full. We used the old burden-straps. This time I didn't have to carry Tommy on my back.
The trick to the burden-strap was to bend over and turn your toes in as you walked. I didn't have to do that now, but when my basket was full I would. If I didn't I would fall and spill all I picked. The head chief's wife would scold me for being careless. I would avoid the scolding if I could.
"So, how did they let you come?" Jane asked, staying in step with me.
"They didn't. I left all my own," I said, wishing Jane would leave me alone. My other cousin wasn't as obnoxious as Jane and Julie and Jennie hadn't reached that age of being a condescending cousin who thinks she knows everything.
"You ran away?" Jane asked, raising her dark eyebrows.
"What of it? You would have to if you saw Batman and you had to make small talk to a man who got upset if you called another man your father," I blurted out without thinking of what I was saying. I cringed. Jane was going to rake me over the coals.
Her eyes were as wide as dinner plates. "You saw Batman? What was he like?" Jane asked. I wished I had kept my mouth shut. How do I tell people Mr. Wayne was Batman? I know he'd probably not like it if I told. So I was going to do him one favor and not say anything.
"He didn't know I saw him. It was kinda a brief moment yesterday," I said, figuring I could tell that much truth. I figured it would be safer if I told half the truth and not the whole truth about finding my way into a cave and seeing Mr. Wayne in a batsuit.
We arrived at the cornfield and got to work. There is nothing like picking corn, beans, and squash. Most people hate the feeling of dirt on their hands and under their fingernails, but I had always loved the moist dirt. I got to work, taking my mind off my problems.
The day went by fast. The next thing I knew the sun was sinking and I didn't feel any aches and pains until I stopped. My basket was pretty full along with everyone else's as we made our way back to the village. I toddled slowly so I could dump my basket. My knees cracked unmercifully as I made my way back to the cabin and opened the door. I felt all the blood drain out of my face at what I saw. Bruce and Rachel Wayne stood there talking to my parents and out of the corner of my eye I saw Alfred.
The room got quiet as every adult looked at me. Mr. Wayne's eyes were hard to read. I didn't know if he was angry and wanted to punish me or if he wanted to hug me tightly. Mrs. Wayne beat him to the hug. She all but ran to me and nearly squeezed the air out of me.
"Are you all right? We were so worried!" She asked, kissing me through my dark hair.
"I think so. How did you know where I was?" I asked as she cupped my cheeks gently.
"We didn't. Dr. Hamilton called and told us," Mrs. Wayne said. I looked at Dad who looked slightly uncomfortable.
"Thanks for sticking up for me, Dad," I said frostily. He said he was going to call them in two days and he lied.
"I've always stuck up for you, Rachel, but they needed to know where you were," Dad said, his eyes mirroring Mr. Wayne's who was standing next to him.
"Dad, you said that you wouldn't call them for two days. I can't believe you conned your own daughter," I said, still not ready to forgive Dad yet. If I was paying closer attention I could see that Mr. Wayne was looking upset again. But at the moment all my attention was on Dad.
I removed the burden-strap and basket and hung them next to Mom's and Grandmother's. "Rachel, time to eat," Grandmother said in her calm rolling way.
Grandmother was apparently going to be the voice of reason in all this. She is one of those women who believes that a person thinks better and is less cranky if he or she eats. I'm undecided on that one. At this moment I don't think food would help the situation, but I was in enough trouble for running away and backtalking to my dad.
I sat at the table, Mr. Wayne sitting next to me. He covered my hand with his large one. "Did you think you could leave Gotham without being noticed?" Mr. Wayne asked.
"How did you know I left? I was kind of hoping I could leave as quietly as I entered. It would look as if I'd never come at all," I said morosely as Grandmother put succotash in front of me. The smell caused my stomach to churn slightly and I touched the warm, shallow bowl.
"Batman was by the bus depot. He saw you leave. He then told me and your mother," Mr. Wayne said. I put down my spoon with a shaking hand. Mr. Wayne had seen me leave as Batman? Also why did he make it sound as if Batman and Bruce Wayne were two different people when they were the same man?
"Like I really care if some flying rodent caught me leaving? He looks like years of therapy just waiting to happen," I said, clipping my words short as I took a miniscule bite of bean and squash.
My mother shot me a warning look. "Rachel, watch your mouth! I know we didn't teach you to talk trash to grownups," Dad said, looking pretty angry himself.
"Dad, you're not my father. Why do you care if I backtalk?" I asked, knowing that my father was at the limit of all the sassing he'd take from me.
"That's right I'm not your father by blood, but I did raise you and I know I've taught you to have more respect for adults," Dad said, his voice as cold as the frigid air outside.
"Easy, Patrick," Mom said, touching my father's broad shoulder. My mom was a catalyst when my father was upset. She could normally stop him from tearing anyone apart by a simple touch on the arm.
"I am sorry, Daddy. I thought by leaving Gotham and Cedar Rapids I was doing the right thing," I said, thinking I wasn't doing myself any favors by being snappish to all four of my parents.
My dad gave me this longsuffering look. "Rachel, you're fourteen. You don't know what's best for you. If you were grownup you wouldn't have lied about the milk carton. You would have shown it to us right away," Dad said, his voice calmer now, but hitting close enough to cause tears to form.
"I guess I was mad at you. You lied to me too. You said there was a fire on the reservation and my birth certificate went with it," I said. My father couldn't dispute that bit of logic.
I calmly finished the last bite of corn on my plate and stood, my knees cracking again. "Ow!!!" I whimpered, leaning over and rubbing my knees gently.
"Roberta?" Mrs. Wayne asked a concerned look on her face.
"I'm fine. Just a little tired. Those burden-straps can really bear into your back, legs, and forehead," I said, starting to rub my forehead as I carried my bowl to the sink. I washed it out and put it into the dishwasher. This was the only modern convenience, other than the phone and indoor plumbing Grandmother allowed. Everything else was like it had been 200 hundred years ago when the first white men came into this country. It had taken a fight just to allow a bathtub with running hot water into the house and to install the phone.
"Roberta, please. Just talk to us. I know you're upset, but we do love you," Mr. Wayne said.
"What do you want me to say? I wanted to come here. I do four times a year," I said, taking care that I wasn't sassing Mr. Wayne this time.
"Did you have any idea how scared we'd be?" Mr. Wayne asked, grabbing my shoulders and looking into my eyes.
"I wasn't thinking about that. I am sorry I scared you, but you scare me," I blurted out before I could stop myself. The man was Batman. He had put people in the hospital. I had heard of one man whose legs Batman had broken while he was interrogating them. How was I to know that if I made Mr. Wayne mad he wouldn't slap me around?
"Robbie, what are you talking about?" Mr. Wayne asked a look of concern in his green eyes.
I leaned close to his ear. "I know who you are, Batman," I whispered low enough for him to hear, but not anyone else. A look of surprise replaced the concern, followed by a look of dread. Something told me that he hadn't wanted me to find out this secret. I think he thought I was going to tell everyone.