A String of Beads (Jane Whitefield, #8)(7)

“I heard about his troubles yesterday,” Jane said. “I came to see you.”

“Well, then, come on inside.” Mattie looked up and around her at the sky and the trees. “Or we could sit out here if you’d like.”

“Out here would be nice,” Jane said. “It’s such a spectacular day.”

“Yes,” said Mattie. “Of course, I see a day like this, and I hope that Jimmy’s somewhere getting the benefit of it. It could still get cold and wet even at this time of year.”

They went to a small round table on the porch under the roof, and Jane sat in one of the four chairs. She thought about how pleasant this spot was during a late spring or summer rain, and felt sorry for Jimmy.

Mattie went through the screen door into the small kitchen. She would feel compelled to observe the ancient customs, so Jane knew she would be back with food and drinks, just as Jigonsasee had, six or seven hundred years ago when Deganawida and Hiawatha—the historical one, not the Ojibway hero Longfellow later used in a poem and gave Hiawatha’s name—had stopped at her dwelling beside the trail. Jane sat alone and listened to the chickadees and finches calling to each other in the big old trees. Mattie returned with a plate of brownies and a pot of tea, and resumed the conversation. “So you heard about Jimmy’s problems.”

Jane took a brownie and nibbled it. “These are wonderful, just as I remembered them. Thank you.”

Mattie nodded.

Jane said, “I got a visit from some of my mother’s old friends, and somebody remembered that Jimmy and I were close friends when we were kids, and thought I’d want to know.”

Mattie looked at Jane’s face for a second, and in that second, Jane knew that she had already seen through what Jane said to what she hadn’t said.

Jane braved the look, like swimming against a current. “Since I heard, I’ve been worried. What happened?”

Mattie looked at the surface of the table for a second, then up. “Jimmy isn’t the boy that you knew, any more than you’re the little girl he knew. You both grew up. You’re like the woman I thought you would be. Maybe girls are more predictable. He fooled me. When boys are little you can’t imagine them getting into fights in bars. Or some of the other things they do either. Jimmy is a good person, a good son, but he’s all man.”

“Where is he?” asked Jane.

“I don’t know,” said Mattie. “He didn’t say he was leaving. After he was gone he didn’t call or write to say where he was going or when he’d get there.”

“Do you think he needs help?”

Mattie sighed. “Anyone who’s alone and running needs help, whether he knows it or not. I just don’t know where he went. And I assume the police are watching me to see if I get into a car and drive.”

Jane said, “I think I can find him.”

Mattie said, “You can only get in trouble, and that would be twice as bad.”

Jane said, “South?”

Mattie sat motionless for a second, then nodded. “Maybe like you two went south that time when you were teenagers.”

Jane said, “And how about you, Mattie? Are you getting along okay here?”

Mattie shrugged. “I always have. I have my Social Security, and a pension from the school system.” Jane remembered Mattie had worked as a janitor in the Akron schools at night. “I also work four mornings a week at Crazy Jake’s. It gives me a few bucks to save.” Crazy Jake sold tax-free cigarettes and gasoline just outside the reservation.

Jane said, “If Jimmy gets in touch, please tell him I’d like to help. I know some good lawyers.”

“We probably wouldn’t have what they charge.”

“I’ll get him a deal.” Jane heard the sound of a car engine, and then the squeak of springs and shock absorbers as a police car bounced up the road toward them. The car stopped, a tall state trooper got out and reached for his Smokey Bear hat, put it on, and walked toward the porch. A second car, this one a black unmarked car, pulled up behind. The driver sat there staring frankly out the window at the women on the porch. Jane and Mattie sat motionless as the state trooper climbed the steps to the porch. “Good morning, Mrs. Sanders,” he said. He nodded to Jane and said, “Ma’am.” He turned to Mattie. “I came by because I was wondering if you had heard from Jimmy yet.”

“I haven’t,” said Mattie.

“Sorry about that,” said the trooper. “If he calls or writes, please let him know we’d like to talk to him. Thanks, ladies.” He got into his car and drove up the road.

Mattie said, “They drive by my house day and night, hoping they’ll see Jimmy. They must have seen your car and hoped it was him.”

“I suppose that’s to be expected,” Jane said. “I’m surprised they’re so obvious, though. I guess they thought they couldn’t fool you anyway.” She took another sip of her tea and finished her brownie. Then she stood and hugged Mattie. “It’s been great to see you again. I wish it hadn’t been at such a bad time.”

“Me too,” said Mattie.

“I’ll come and see you when things are better.” She bent to kiss Mattie’s cheek. Then she got into her car and drove. The reservation had only a few roads, and they all met. She went up Parker Road past Sundown Road to Council House Road.