Sisters in the Wind(25)
“Who taught you to cook?” I ask one morning.
Jamie chuckles to himself. “I was on assignment, and my senior agent liked cooking. Posing as nephew and uncle meant that we lived together 24/7. There were times I hated him and his supervision.” Again he laughs softly. “But, damn, Uncle Ron could cook. We stayed in a two-bedroom apartment, shared the chores. So I had to get my act together in the kitchen. Can’t break up a drug ring on pizza bagels and instant ramen. ‘Processed foods make you weak,’ he said. I learned a lot from Ron Cornell.”
After Jamie and I finish eating, I clear the table and load the dishwasher. He always tries to help, but I make him sit at the bar that separates the kitchen counter from the dining room. We never run out of things to talk about. I haven’t felt this easy since Miss Lonnie’s. Jamie would have been a great foster brother.
It doesn’t take much to get him to talk about Daunis. Evidently, she was this incredible hockey player in Sault Ste. Marie. A hockey goddess, he says. She played on the boys’ varsity team in high school. If it weren’t for a shoulder injury, she would’ve been on the U.S. Olympic team in Torino or next year’s games in Vancouver. Oh, and of course she is brilliant. Studied ethnobotany in Hawaii. Miss Daunis Fontaine, who had been her high school class valedictorian, graduated with her bachelor’s degree in December—a semester early.
Big brother Jamie has still got it bad for her.
Daunis returns from her morning run dripping in sweat. I can smell her armpits. It’s natural, but still kind of gross. Jamie closes his eyes when she walks by, like he’d want a fifty-cup devotional stand of Daunis-scented votive candles.
“I don’t believe in love at first sight,” I tell him one morning while Daunis is showering. It’s an offhand comment while I load the dishwasher.
“Oh, Lucy.” He sighs. “I hope you experience the thunderbolt someday.”
I change the subject. “She’s really into that guy back home. TJ.”
Jamie stares at Daunis’s bedroom door.
“TJ Kewadin. He was her first boyfriend when they were in high school. He’s a LEO—I mean, law-enforcement officer—on their rez.” His face sours. “He’s a good guy, I guess. We were probably at the Indian Police Academy around the same time.”
Daunis’s boyfriend being a cop makes me Team Jamie times infinity. Even if Jamie was a fed, he got out. Knew he’d never make the changes he really wanted, because what can one cop do once the arrests are made, the court case is over? He’s doing the real work.
“I don’t know him, but I think she’s an idiot.” He brightens at my assessment. “I mean, you can make pasta from scratch. And your crab-and-cheddar quiche should be on a menu somewhere. Seriously! We should’ve served it at the diner.”
Jamie throws his head back for a deep belly laugh.
Daunis Fontaine is, indeed, an idiot.
“So, you and Daunis were a thing?” I feel guilty about his pained expression.
“A long time ago,” he says too quickly. “Life goes on.”
He doesn’t know I overheard his sexy growl about their someday.
I like Jamie. He seems like what a big brother is supposed to be. We’ve both gone through experiences where home was not safe. I don’t know how to explain it, but he’s a fighter. Daunis is tough; I’d never deny that. But she’s always had a cushion of … wealth, power, and a stable home. She belongs in any space she enters.
“Can I ask why you do this type of work?” I ask one morning over a veggie frittata. “I mean, Daunis is here because I’m the half sister of her dead best friend, Lily.”
He blanches at the word dead, but I continue. “And what does the bah mean when she calls her Lily-bah?”
“It’s a suffix added to a person’s name after they pass away.” He speaks softly. “It means they aren’t in this world anymore. They are something beyond who they were here.”
I follow up with another question before he can change the topic.
“Lily-bah was special to you?” I use the suffix and make my voice as reverent as his was.
“Yes. She wasn’t just Daunis’s best friend. Lily was special. I only met her a few times, but she was such a character—funny and full of life. She’d been through rough times, but she was a survivor—” His voice cracks. “I wanted to get help for her boyfriend. Get him clean and help him cooperate with the FBI. I tried to reach Travis that night, before he shot her. I was too late—” He coughs to clear his throat. “She died instantly, Lucy. She didn’t suffer. It was over before she knew what was happening.”
I feel super guilty now for making him relive those horrible moments. I decide to take up what’s left of breakfast. I don’t want to put our conversation on hold, so I quickly load the plates and silverware into the dishwasher. I try to ignore an unexpected tightness in my own chest and at the base of my throat as I join Jamie, who’s moved to the sofa. He turns the television on but mutes the volume.
“You said Lily-bah went through rough times. Like foster care?”
“She was raised by her great-grandmother, Granny June.” Jamie smiles. A beat later he adds, “Wait, Lucy, Granny June is your great-grandmother too. She’s something else. I just know she would love to meet you. To know you.” He beams.