Morningstar: Recovery: Chapter 1: Tragedies

 

Chapter 1: Tragedies

 

          Pointing to a car across the street and giving instructions to Pierre, I directed; “walk my mom over to the blue car across the street.”

          With a baffled almost pleading look, Pierre looked at me with huge imploring eyes and asked; “I understand blue, I’m sorry, you told me many things; but please, what is car?”

          Just then a car drove by at a speed typical for a residential area of Logan, causing Pierre to jump back almost losing his own balance and letting go of my mom.

          “That was a car;” I replied.  “I’ll lead you to ours.”  Looking at Tye and Anna in the Teeples van then Jason and Amanda, making out next to the Coalier’s car almost made puke.  Shaking my head, I yelled at them in disgust; “get a room, will ya?”

          “Do they always go so fast?”  asked Pierre.

          His question drew my attention to my more immediate concern and I initially stammered; “W, what? … “OH, that was nothing; they can go a lot faster.”  When we got to the car, I took the keys from my mom’s pocket, and opened the back door and helped Pierre get my mom in the back seat.  I then opened the front door and I’m sure with an exasperated tone said, “I think I’ll drive.  You walk around to the other side and get in the other door.  I’ll open it from the inside.”

          Just as Pierre walked to the front passenger door, Serge and Stephanie walked out of the Turners house, Serge yelled something speaking to Pierre in French.           

          “What was that?” I demanded.

          “He just said he would see me soon and he can help.”

          “You won’t need him.  I’ll help you,” I was still pretty angry; maybe I’ll always be, but I didn’t want any help or involvement from any of them.  Tye might be an exception, but I didn’t want any involvement, any connection, any help, or relationship for that matter, with any of them or their families.

          I started the car and drove away, but by now, both my mom and Pierre were almost in a state of shock.  For my mom, it would be the second time in just a matter of hours.  When we arrived home, Pierre helped my mom out of the car and into the house.  I then helped my mom to bed, explained a shower and toilet to Pierre then laid out some of Carl’s clothing, which was way too big for Pierre; but would do for a few days.  I then took a shower in my mom’s bedroom, got some bedding for Pierre, and laid it out on the couch.  I was sure we were both hungry, so I got some food from the refrigerator and put it out on the table for the two of us.  Finally, I directed Pierre to his bed on the couch.  Looking back with a little less irritation, I realized almost everything was absolutely amazing, even supernatural for Pierre.   He must have felt terribly confused and alone.

          As Pierre sat down on the couch, with a few bounces of sheer amazement, he reached his hand out taking mine just as I was turning to leave, and gently, gratefully said; “you know that you are very beautiful Bekah, more beautiful than I could have ever imagined. … Thank you me saving the life.”

          His English was still pretty jumbled.  Before meeting me in captivity, he hadn’t even spoken English a full year.  I understood he was thanking me for saving his life.  In-spite of all our differences of language and culture, I think I understood him better and he me better than anyone I had ever known.  I turned for just a moment, and with maybe even a tear or two replied; “thank you for saving mine, Pierre.  I’m sorry I’ve been such a jerk.”

          Shaking his head and with another imploring look Pierre responded, “I do not understand.  What is jerk?”

          “Oh, never mind;” I responded with some irritation as I turned to walk quickly to my room, “Have a good sleep, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

          My mom and I slept in until mid-morning with Pierre waking up before either of us.  He was waiting, sitting on the couch, when I got to the living room.  I just pulled on about the only thing that fit, a baggy set of sweats.  After checking on Pierre I called my mom’s work to let them know she wasn’t feeling well, (that was an understatement), and wouldn’t be in that afternoon.  Still famished and knowing everyone else would be too, I walked into the kitchen to fix breakfast and found my mom already making waffles. 

          “I can do that mom; you look pretty worn out.”

          “Since when do you cook? Besides, I’m fine.  We need to eat something, and then talk.  Is he still here?  I don’t want to talk in front of him.”

          “Yes, mom, he’s still here and he’s going to be here for a while.  We’ve all got a lot to talk about and it includes him.”

          “He’s not staying here!”

          “There’s a lot you don’t know, a lot we need to talk about mom.”

          “Well, ok, get him in here.  Get some juice on and set the table, I’ll have a plate of waffles ready in about two minutes.”

          The three of us ate breakfast with little conversation except for Pierre’s questions about almost everything on the table and in the house, how to use the utensils, and my short mostly exasperated responses.  After breakfast I helped mom clean up and the three of us went into the living room.  I had already folded Pierre’s bedding and tossed it on the floor next to the couch.   Pierre and I sat down on the couch while my mom sat in a recliner across from the two of us. 

          “Mom, I don’t know where to start.  I’ve been through hell.  It’s been a year; but I feel like I’ve aged ten, maybe twenty.

          After I went to the Turners, Cid broke in and wanted to know where you were.  I don’t know if somehow… he had seen me driving and followed me or what.  He had a gun and was holding a knife against my face and was about to cut me because I wouldn’t tell him anything.”

          My mom gasped as I spoke and then sorrowfully responded; “I’m so so sorry Bekah.  This didn’t have anything to do with you, and I promise, I didn’t know anything about whatever Carl was up to.”

          “Mom, I know this isn’t your fault. … Anyway, like I said, Cid had a gun and I thought he’d shot Anna; but she’s ok.  All the sudden we were both in a different place and time.  Sid was fighting with one huge Indian and I was trying to fight the other off me.  I scratched the Indian that grabbed me.  I got him pretty good too, but that just made him mad.  The one Sid was fighting with killed Sid; but Sid must have cut the Indian up pretty bad because I noticed he was bleeding, a lot.  Anyway, by the time my mind stopped spinning, I realized the Indian that had me was scratched and bleeding.  I was so frightened and mad; but seeing his face bleeding from my fingernails, for a split second, gave me some satisfaction and maybe even delight.  I was back to more than terrified, a half second later.  The next thing I knew, the three of us, me, the Indian who killed Sid, and the one that grabbed me, were on two horses and another group of Indians were chasing us.  The two that took me, caught up with a group of their friends, I later learned they were called Bloods from the Bear Clan, with some Blackfeet.  There was all kinds of yelling and they were ready to fight the group chasing the Bloods.  I guess the ones following were Shoshoni; but as soon as the Shoshoni saw how many Bloods and Blackfeet there were, they stopped.  The Bloods had already captured a bunch of Shoshoni horses, and then me.  After a while a bigger group of Shoshoni started chasing us; but they gave up after a few days.  It was hell; I don’t know how I lived through those first few days.  I almost didn’t…  They tied me up until after we reached their camp.  I don’t know how many weeks that took but it was a long time.  Once I was there, I was either watched, or tied up all the time for months.  I was beaten so bad because I wouldn’t do what the Indian that captured me, wanted me to, I almost died.  Pierre took care of my injuries and fed me when I couldn’t feed myself.  We were both slaves there.  If it wasn’t for him, I would have died; but those weren’t the only times he saved my life.

          Mom… I was a slave for almost a year.  The others from the Turner’s house didn’t do anything to help.  I don’t even think they cared.  It was just lucky we ran into them and got back when we did.  It was hell mom.”

          My mom sank further back into her chair as if she was going into shock again.

          “I still don’t understand Bekah;” said my mom; “but I am so so sorry.  This wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for Cid and Cid wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for Carl, and Carl is my fault.  I’m so sorry.”

          “Mom, none of this is your fault; but there’s more, a lot more.”  After a very, very, long pause, I finally added; “I think, I’m pretty sure… I’m pregnant.”

          After another pause as my mom just stared at the wall, she finally asked, looking at Pierre; “is he?”

          I quickly interrupted to let her know; “no, no mom he’s not.  We haven’t even been together that way.”   An overwhelming feeling of loss, vulnerability, and depression was beginning to cover me and I curled up into a tight fetal position on the couch and started rocking, then, I’m sure almost inaudibly said; “Like I said, horrible things happened; but…” then after another long pause, “Pierre is sort of my husband.  He saved my life more than once and we… kind-a ended up having to get married.  I either had to marry Pierre or the brother of the Blood that captured me.  Pierre killed the one that captured me, but he did it during a Cree raid and made it look like the Cree did it.  During the same raid, Pierre saved the life of one of the Blood Chiefs and they gave him his freedom.  I either had to marry Pierre or the other Blood.  That was an easy choice; but they still wouldn’t let us leave.  If they had known I was pregnant, I would have had to marry the brother, so we had to escape.  Thanks to Pierre we got away in a canoe he made.  The Bloods don’t like canoes, they’re afraid of some water spirit.”

          As I continued to rock, Pierre slowly reached his right hand out to take my left, squeezing it ever so gently.  Feeling comfort from his gesture, and even a slight lift of the depressed mood that had covered me, I responded by placing my right hand on top of his, holding it tightly. 

          My mom then jumped in again with vehemence; “Well, you’re not keeping it!  I’ll make an appointment, and as for being married, I’m sure it’s not legal.”

          “I don’t know if I’m keeping it or not, Pierre and I were talking…”

          “What does he have to do it?  It’s your body!”

          Mustering almost all the strength I still possessed, I very slowly and deliberately responded; “Yes, mom, it’s my body, and it’s my baby, it’s my life, and now Pierre is a part of that life.  This isn’t what I planned; but it’s what happened.  I’ve got a lot to think about, a lot to talk through, and it’s going to take some time.

          We’ve all got a lot more to talk about.  I just can’t talk about it all at once.  It is going to take weeks, months, maybe years, for me to tell you everything and there are some things I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to tell you, or anyone.  Tye gave me some money and I need to get some loose clothes.  I’m not ready for anybody at school to know I’m pregnant.  I don’t think the others know.  I need to get some clothes for Pierre too.  Do you mind if I take the car?  I’ll tell you more after dinner.”

          “Bekah, you’re right, we’ve got a lot to talk about.  And remember, you don’t even have a license.  Every police officer in town knows who you are and knows you don’t have a license.  We’re lucky we didn’t get stopped yesterday;” continued my mom with some anger in her voice.

          “Oh yeah, I guess I forgot about the license thing.  I don’t want you to take us because one of the officers might see you and wonder why you called in sick.  It’s not far to the mall.  We’ll walk and get a few things and then we’ll be back.”

          “Well, ok; but are you sure you can walk?  You’ll have to remind me who Tye is.  Why did he give you money?  How much did he give you?”

          “He gave us $500.00 each.  He knew Pierre would need clothes and… I suppose, he might have guessed I was pregnant, because he thought I would too.  I’m going to get some safety pins to pin Pierre’s clothes up while we walk and shop.  He’ll just have to live with oversized boots until we get him something better.  We’ll be fine.”

          “Wh, wh, why would this Tye, give you that kind of money?”

          With a lot of fatigue and frustration on my part, and a huge sigh, I answered, “oh, I don’t know mom, he just did.  We’ve got to get Pierre some clothes he can wear around here, and I’m going to need some loser fitting pants and shirts.  Like I told you, if I’m pregnant, I really don’t want anyone to know.  I’m going to have to go back to school.  One of us is going to have to get an education.”

 

          After getting ready, Pierre and I walked to the mall.  He had questions about everything.  It was kind of annoying; but I guess it also made me feel kind-of smart and even a little more capable.  Over the last year there hasn’t been many times when I’ve felt capable or like I even had any control, except in one area.  I decided to live.  I did have that choice and I chose to live.  I made another choice too; I chose to save Pierre.  I have to keep reminding myself that what I did, was my choice.

          After shopping, something that used to be a lot of fun; but was now more of a chore, and after getting Pierre more suitably clothed, we started the long walk home.  I guess it seemed a longer trip back than going, because we, especially Pierre, were carrying a lot of bags.  I could tell Pierre was struggling and his limp was more pronounced, but he insisted on carrying almost everything.  He only let me carry a couple small bags.

          As we turned the corner to my house, I noticed a black Ford Escape Hybrid parked in front.

          “There is a car in front of your house.  Is someone making the visit?” asked Pierre

          “Actually, it’s an SUV.  I know, that’s kind of confusing.  An SUV is bigger than a car.  This one’s pretty nice.  It looks brand new.  We don’t know anyone who drives one of those.  I have no clue who it might be.”

          As Pierre and I approached the sidewalk to my home, two men walked out our front door.  One was black; the other had dark hair and kind of olive skin.  Both wore charcoal suits.  They were talking as they walked to the Escape; but I didn’t understand.  When we walked in, my mom was white again, almost as bad as yesterday morning, almost like she was once again in shock.

          “Mom, sit down, what happened?  Who were those men?”

          I helped my mom sit down on the couch, then turned to Pierre.  “Get a glass of water for my mom from the kitchen.”

          Pierre put everything down he was carrying and almost ran to the kitchen.  I could hear him making all kinds of noises, but he didn’t come back, finally I rushed in to see what the problem was.  The kitchen faucet was different from the one I’d showed him in the bathroom.  He was frantically trying to figure it out.  At the time I was pretty frustrated; but looking back, it was kind of funny.  After I got some water going, gave my mom a sip and got her feet up on a pillow I’d put on the coffee table, and… after we had taken some deep breaths together, I finally asked again.

          “Mom, what was that all about?”

          “Those two men said they were with the FBI.  Said they were looking for Sid.  I told them I hadn’t seen him since before Carl died.  I don’t think they believed me because they kept pushing and asking more questions.  They both had identification; but I, I don’t think they were FBI.  They both had really heavy accents.”

          “They spoke French, but it was different than I’v never heard;” responded Pierre.  One spoke of “the foundation and then said syndicate.”  Said they would not be happy.”  Shaking his head Pierre then continued; “I did not understand.  How can foundation be ‘they,’ how can foundation be happy?   One said Sid was maladroit, I do not know word in English.  I am sorry, I did not understand.”

 

          “I think one of the English words is foundation.  It probably has different meanings now than it did a few hundred years ago.  It can be an organization.  A group of people like a big business or syndicate, something I’ll explain more later.  It might be the foundation, or syndicate, that put the money up for Sid’s bail.  Maybe the foundation and the syndicate are the same thing.”  I explained to Pierre and my mom.

          All of this caused a huge sinking feeling to overwhelm me again.  I pulled Pierre to the couch next to me, as I sat down between him and my mom.  He pulled me in close and just held me without saying a word until I was ready to get up again.  At that moment I was very, very, grateful he was mine.