A String of Beads (Jane Whitefield, #8)(118)

Jimmy and Mattie were symbolically returning from the woods—the dark, wild place where enemies stalked, wars were fought, and murders committed. They were being brought into the sunlit clearing, the peaceful, cleared land that had circled all Haudenosaunee villages from the beginning of civilization.

Today’s was a small event, more personal than the big tribal ceremonies, but it followed the same steps. First a speaker stepped forward from the crowd. He was Jimmy’s mother’s cousin, Wallace Golden, one of the Haudenosaunee league sachems. He began as the speaker always did.

“This morning we have gathered for a celebration, and we see that the cycles of life are the same. It is our job to live in harmony with each other and in balance with all living things.” Then he gave thanks as the Senecas always had, to the whole universe beginning with the ground at their feet and moving upward and outward. He thanked the earth, the waters, the fish, the plants, the edible plants, the medicinal herbs, the animals, the trees, the birds, the four winds, the thunders that bring rains, the sun, the moon, the stars, all spirit messengers, and the Creator.

Wallace Golden went on to speak about this particular occasion. “We are thankful that our young man Jimmy Sanders waits here at the edge of the forest, where the cleared land begins, to be taken back in among us. We are happy that he is cleared of all false suspicion and has come home to us.”

Wallace Golden said a few sentences recognizing that Jimmy and Mattie’s journey had been hard and dangerous. He extended condolences for the losses and suffering that Jimmy and his mother had needed to endure. He expressed the hope that a return home would restore their “good minds”—their health and well-being.

The well-wishers all greeted Jimmy and Mattie and welcomed them home. In old times the people would have mended their damaged clothing, given them shelter, and tended their wounds. They still offered food. There was a buffet of home-cooked food for everyone laid out on a row of picnic tables, and everyone now ate and talked happily.

At the fringe of the gathering stood Mrs. Jane McKin-non, born Jane Whitefield, whose Wolf clan name was Owandah. She chatted with a few friends and tasted several of the dishes. At a quiet moment, Jimmy Sanders approached her. “Thank you, Jane. I—”

She gave her head a little shake that an onlooker might have misinterpreted as getting her long, black hair out of her eyes. If anyone was listening, they heard her say, “It’s nice to see you, Jimmy. Welcome home.” Then she turned away to gather some plates and took them to the council house kitchen. She set them by the sink, where two women were already washing the first ones, when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

She turned to see Ellen Dickerson, who looked at her and walked toward the door. Jane followed her out of the kitchen and down a path that Jane wasn’t sure she had ever noticed before. It was bushy where the lawn ended, but then opened up into a clear trail into the woods. She followed Ellen for a few hundred feet into a deep stand of old trees surrounding a small clearing.

Waiting for them were the clan mothers, standing in the clearing, talking quietly. When they saw Ellen and Jane arrive they all fell into silence at once, and focused on Jane. She felt it again—the strange sensation, an intimation that she was in the presence of something ancient and powerful. This was a gathering of the representatives of all the clans of her people, a direct link through a chain of women to the beginning of everything.

Jane reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out the strand of shell beads, the purple and white wampum they had given her to mark her appointment as the agent of their will. She held it up in front of Ellen Dickerson, mother of her own Wolf clan. “I guess it’s time to give this back.”

“It is,” said Ellen. She took the beads and put them into her pocket. “Thank you.”

The others began to hug Jane, one or two at a time, surrounding her for a moment and then stepping back.

Ellen said, “You’ve done everything we hoped you would. We believed there was no other way, or we would never have asked you to take such risks.”

“I’m just glad everybody’s safe,” Jane said.

“This Edge of the Woods should have been for you, to welcome you back among us and make you whole again. We’re all sorry we couldn’t name you out loud without risking your secrets.”

“Thank you all for understanding that,” said Jane.

“The ceremony was for you too, even if we couldn’t say it,” said Daisy.

“We’d better get back to the party,” said Alma. “People will start to wonder.”

The women, one by one, kissed Jane’s cheek or patted her shoulder or gave her another quick hug. Each of them turned and took a different path into the trees, so they would not all reappear at the party at once. In a moment Jane was alone.

Jane walked to Council House Road, got into the Volks-wagen Passat, and drove it the last miles to Ray Snow’s garage. She pulled the car into a space between a couple of the other cars he had refurbished. As she got out of the Passat, Ray Snow came out of the bay where he had a Toyota up on the lift. He was wiping his hands on a red shop rag.

“Hey, Jane. Welcome home. I finished your Volvo a week or so ago. How was the loaner?”

“It was great, Ray. But I’m afraid I drove it really hard. I’d like to pay you extra for the miles and depreciation.” She handed him the keys.