Читать книгу Double Blind - Hannah Alexander - Страница 14

S heila felt sick all of a sudden—and in over her head. She had lost all her curiosity about her mother, though she was sure that would return. But now, everything seemed to be happening too quickly.

“So, I think we’ve exposed everything about Sheila that we can tonight,” she said drily, hesitating at the cafeteria door. “Why don’t we learn a little about Dr. Canaan York?” Anything to delay the inevitable plunge.

To her relief, he took the hint and ceased further probing. He also didn’t open the door. “I’m not a good principal.”

“Most doctors I know wouldn’t make good principals, but this position is temporary, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “If I can make it three more weeks.”

“I understand this has been your first year at the school clinic.”

He looked at her. “I’m sure Granddad managed to tell you everything about my life since you left. He has a tendency to…um…boast a little more than I’d like him to.”

“Oh, yeah, you mean the way he has of saying, ‘My grandson, the doctor,’ every other sentence?”

Canaan chuckled.

“He told me you joined a clinic practice in Ganado as soon as you’d completed your residency.”

“That’s right,” Canaan said. “Many of the Twin Mesas’ graduates went to college in Ganado, so I knew many of my patients already.”

“Sort of like built-in job security,” she said.

Canaan hesitated. How he wished he’d been able to have built-in marriage security so easily. “You know how hard it can be for The People to trust outsiders, or even strangers in our tribe.”

“Your grandfather said a large percentage of Twin Mesas’ graduates go on to college.”

“Yes, Granddad’s proud of that.” Canaan hesitated. “I am, too.”

Sheila glanced up at the change in his voice. “You don’t sound too sure of that.”

He shook his head. “Some of the graduates didn’t make it to college. Two didn’t even live to graduate. They had such high hopes for the future, but they died before they could realize their dreams.”

“How?”

“Accidents.”

“What kind of accidents?”

“One from heatstroke. He was found out in the desert two years ago. He should have known better. He grew up in this desert.”

“And the other?” Sheila asked.

“Car wreck down in Gallup last year. Hit by a drunk.”

“So the deaths were unrelated.”

He grimaced.

She wondered if he realized how poorly he hid his thoughts. He’d never been good at keeping his emotions off his face. “So you came here after you became so concerned about the deaths.”

He didn’t return her look. “After Grandad asked me to.”

“He wanted you here to keep an eye on things,” she guessed.

He glanced through the glass doors into the cafeteria. “And that didn’t work, either. Three died under my watch.”

“And the Hunts were also former students,” she said.

“All three were former students. Bob Jaffrey was, as well.”

“You’re desperate to find out what’s going on.”

He nodded.

“Tell you what, I’ll keep a close eye on your work next week, and give you a critique on Friday.”

“Just what I need,” he said dryly. “Another critic.”

“I’ve heard there’s been quite a turnover of principals in the past few years,” she said.

“Seems that way.”

“I’m not getting myself into the middle of a mess, am I?” she asked. “You know, student pranks, stuff like that?”

“No pranks. Nothing we can’t handle.”

“But there is something.”

He turned to look at her for a long moment as his hand went to the cafeteria door. He grasped the handle, then stood still. “Do you remember when we were kids, we used to try to help Granddad’s neighbor herd his sheep?”

“And we spooked them every time.”

“Right. The kids remind me of those spooked animals.”

“How?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, shaking his head. “I’m afraid you’ll see what I mean when you start talking to them.” He pulled open the door. “If you do, will you tell me?”

“I’ll add it to my critique.”

Sheila took a deep breath and preceded Canaan into the noisy cafeteria. The huge room, as modern and clean as the exterior of the building, had been designed with children in mind. Bulletin boards held beautiful drawings and collages. She wondered if Canaan had a hand in the inspiration for some of the masterpieces.

The aromas were the same as they had been nearly a lifetime ago. Sheila knew if she closed her eyes, the smell of yeasty rolls and bubbling stew would draw her back to the days when Betsy Two Horses had stood at the serving line, teasing and laughing with the hungry children.

Recognition and remembered affection warmed Sheila as she caught sight of the Navajo woman. Funny how she could remember Betsy and Canaan and the ruggedness of the land surrounding the school so very well, but she could barely remember her mother’s image.

No, not funny, but certainly sad.

From across the length of the large cafeteria, Betsy didn’t look more than fifty, though she must be past seventy. Tendrils of her hair, still as black as Sheila remembered, had escaped the ponytail that emphasized her thin, angular face. As she reached up to push the strands back, her dark eyes met Sheila’s.

For a moment, Betsy stared. Her thick, dark brows gave her a glowering appearance, until a gleam of recognition lightened the woman’s expression.

Canaan touched Sheila’s arm and led her forward, past the chattering kids holding their trays and the dorm parents who monitored to make sure their charges behaved while the principal was in the room.

“Well, Betsy?” Canaan said. “You told me you’d recognize her.”

Betsy looked at Canaan, then at Sheila. In the light, the deep lines of her face belied the youthful blackness of her hair, but the warmth in those eyes welcomed as it had so long ago.

“I knew her,” Betsy said, then directed her gaze to Sheila. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“It’s been a long time,” Sheila said.

Betsy studied Sheila more closely. “You’ve always looked like Evelyn.” She explained to Canaan, “Sheila’s mother.”

“I know,” Canaan said dryly. “I was here, too, remember?”

Before they could talk further, a group—Sheila guessed they were teachers—entered the cafeteria, talking and laughing as energetically as students…until they saw Sheila.

Silence descended, amusement disappeared and the expressions on various faces ranged from curiosity to resentment.

For the first time, Sheila became aware of the paleness of her skin. It felt strange. She couldn’t remember ever feeling out of place at this school when she was a little girl. Always, when she’d been here, she had belonged.

Canaan touched her arm and addressed the new arrivals. “Come and meet Sheila Metcalf, the nurse Johnny Jacobs has hired to help me in the clinic. She and I attended school together here when we were children, which means she’s one of us.”

Sheila felt only slightly relieved when a few of the expressions lightened. One heavyset woman who had passed them earlier with a group of children stepped forward and picked up her tray, interest sharpening her delicate features.

“I hear you’re going to examine my kids,” she said, selecting her silverware. “I have first-and second-grade girls.”

“This is Jane Witherbe,” Canaan told Sheila, putting an arm on the woman’s shoulder. “She’s been a teacher and dorm mother here for a lot of years.”

Jane nodded, dark eyes friendly, and the smile revealed she was older than she first appeared. “I remember you, Sheila. My first year here was—” the smile disappeared “—it was the year you left.”

“You’ll like her kids,” Canaan said smoothly. “They’re well behaved.”

Another of the women spoke up. “They’re all good kids. They mind their teachers and dorm parents.”

One of the men snorted, his expression still grim, his gaze most unwelcoming as he studied Sheila’s face. “That’s because they’re all Dineh. ”

Sheila knew that word. It was what the Navajo called themselves. It meant The People. The man looked familiar, and for a moment Sheila held his dark gaze. She remembered his name without having to be told. Kai Begay. He’d been a teacher-parent when Sheila had lived here. But he hadn’t been unfriendly then, had he?

“Sheila was with us for several years, Kai,” Canaan said. “You should remember her, since you were here at the time her parents came. Her mother was our nurse, and her father helped the local farmers to utilize their land more efficiently.”

Kai Begay’s chin came up as he met Canaan’s gaze and held it for a moment. Canaan returned the look. Kai cleared his throat and looked away.

Something relaxed inside Sheila. Canaan might not feel as if he would make a good principal, but he was obviously making an effort to retain control of the staff, no matter how unpopular that might make him.

Betsy Two Horses returned her attention to the steam table in front of her.

As the talk increased and the tension eased, Sheila pushed her tray along the counter.

Betsy gave her a quick once-over. “You’re starving yourself,” she said, her voice brusque as always, but her eyes still warm.

“I’ve actually gained some weight,” Sheila told her.

“Well, gain some more.” Betsy held up a ladle of stew. “Mutton.” Her dark eyes gleamed with the barest touch of humor. “Your favorite.”

Sheila nodded and enjoyed the look of surprise on Betsy’s face. She’d never developed a taste for the stew as a child, and she’d been teased about it a few times. But who was to say her tastes hadn’t changed in twenty-four years?

When Canaan turned with his tray toward a far table, Sheila glanced at Betsy wistfully. When the glass door opened and more people entered, Sheila turned away and wove between the tables to where Canaan waited. Later. She and her old friend would have time to become reacquainted soon.

In spite of what she’d told Canaan, Sheila had no appetite. In fact, she hadn’t felt hungry all week. Now, as she glanced into the bowl of thick stew, nausea bubbled in her stomach. The reaction of the dorm parents, especially Kai Begay, concerned her. It didn’t help that she felt as if time had shifted, as if she were a child again.

Canaan held her chair out for her.

He sat down after she did. He bowed his head, said a brief prayer softly, as if to himself, then tore off a corner of his bread and dipped it in his stew.

“Fry bread?” Sheila asked. “I didn’t see that.”

He chewed, swallowed. “You were so busy watching Betsy, you pushed your tray right past it. She was always good with us kids, wasn’t she?”

Sheila nodded, fingering the cross at her throat. “She gave me this.” She glanced toward the serving line, where Betsy was greeting incoming diners with a quick word or nod.

“That necklace?” Canaan bent forward and examined it more closely. “Did she make it?”

“No, her husband made it for her a few years before he died. She gave it to me after my mother died.”

“It’s skillfully made. Do you wear it often?”

Sheila nodded. “Almost all the time when I was growing up. Every time I touched it, I could remember that someone loved me enough to give me something that meant a lot to her. She told me that she had worn it constantly after her husband’s death, until her fear of life went away and she no longer felt alone.”

“Do you still feel alone?”

She gave him a wry look. “I’m thirty-four years old, I have plenty of friends in Hideaway, my father is whole and healthy and Preston…” She smiled.

“Yes? Preston…?”

“A good friend.”

“Is that a euphemism for a person of consequence in your life?” Canaan asked.

“Let’s just say my life is full and very interesting at the moment.”

“Because of Preston?”

Though Canaan watched her intently, she didn’t elaborate. Best not to get into a discussion about other difficulties in her life right now.

Obviously curbing his curiosity, Canaan gestured toward the teachers and dorm parents who were making their way to a long table set apart from the children. “Most of the staff are warmhearted, good people. There will always be a certain percentage of people who have trouble accepting newcomers, no matter who they are, or what color.”

“I’m no newcomer to Kai Begay,” Sheila reminded him. “He knew me when I was a child, and I don’t remember any resentment from him then. I don’t remember the problem being so prevalent here before.”

“You were a child then.”

“Children can sense things, and I would have sensed that brand of prejudice.”

“But Kai is not antagonistic with children,” Canaan said. “He loves them, which is why he’s remained here all these years. This is his life.”

“Did he treat my parents the way he’s treating me now?”

Canaan pulled off a section of his fry bread and set it on her plate. He drizzled honey from a plastic container on the table on the other piece. “Kai has always been outspoken, but he loves the children.”

Sheila watched him take a big bite of the bread. “You didn’t answer my question, and you’re just repeating yourself. Does he pass his prejudice along to the children?”

Canaan chewed and swallowed, chewed and swallowed, giving her a disgruntled look. “You never broke that habit, did you?”

“Of what?”

“Asking me a question as soon as I put food in my mouth.”

“You’re doing better, though. Now, at least, you don’t talk with your mouth full.”

Canaan gave his sweetened bread a loving look, then set it back onto his plate. “Kai eats with the kids and spends a lot of his free time with them. What do you think?”

“It’s a shame he feels the way he does. The children need to learn to get along with people of every race if they’re to function in the world outside the reservation.”

Canaan nodded, picking up his bread again. “You’re right. Absolutely. Now let me eat.”

Sheila sighed and picked up her fork, faking an appetite, though she didn’t expect to fool Canaan. He seemed to remember a lot of things about her, and his memories intrigued her.