Sisters in the Wind(43)

“Oh shit.” I rarely swear, but I blurt it out. Jamie has the decency to hide his smile at my outburst.

“My brother, Levi, is only three months younger than me,” Daunis tells me.

“Your half brother,” I clarify.

“My brother,” she says firmly.

Remembering her story in the hospital about Levi’s betrayal, I pivot to talk about something not dark.

“Do you like your mom’s fiancé?”

“Jean-Paul? Hells yeah,” she says. “He coaches the Mack State women’s hockey team. He’s a sweetheart.” Daunis flaps her hands excitedly. “My mom’s wedding dress is gorgeous. I’m thrilled for her. It took such a long time for her to get over my dad…” She gets teary-eyed. “I want everything about the wedding to be perfect for her and Jean-Paul.”

I’m thrilled for Daunis’s mom too, and I don’t even know the lady.

Before she leaves for the Soo, a last-minute appointment opens up for my next checkup with Dr. Rao. Daunis insists on bringing me, delaying her departure by an hour or so.

My X-rays look great, according to Dr. Rao. Impressed with my physical-therapy progress, she determines that I can try putting my full weight on my left leg. I’m excited but also scared to try in front of her. My plan to leave town depends upon my mobility. I can’t outrun my past on crutches.

I prepare for my first full-weight step with Daunis and Dr. Rao watching as intently as parents with an unsteady toddler. My biggest fear is that my thigh bone will snap, and I’ll relive the horrible moment when I landed in the diner parking lot.

What if I re-break my leg and need to start all over again?

My arms quiver as I grasp the handrails on either side of me.

I’m now nine weeks post-blast. What if it hasn’t been enough time?

What if …

I look to Daunis. She’s in front of the treadmill. Our eyes meet.

She believes I can do this.

I let go of the handrails for only a second. It feels unnatural, that first step. I do it again. And again.

My doctor has me continue walking, but with a cane. It’s easier. I can gauge how much weight to put on my leg and how much to rely on the cane.

Hope fills my heart. Maybe for the first time, I can see a way out of the mess I’m in. I’ll continue healing and getting stronger. I’m earning money working with Jamie. He’s teaching me to improve my research skills.

My someday—when I can run fast and far away—will be someday soon.



* * *



On Friday afternoon, Jamie hands me a file with an article reprinted from the Children and Youth Services Review.

“Read this one and then let’s talk with Daunis about it when she gets back.” He tries to sound casual, which only reveals how eager he is for her return.

“Sure thing, boss,” I say, not sure why we would need to talk with her about Jamie’s work.

When I open the file, the title of the article answers my unspoken question: An Ojibwe Perspective on the Welfare of Children: Lessons of the Past and Visions for the Future, by Carol A. Hand. Daunis is Ojibwe. I suppose I am too. Jamie must want her to verify that the perspective is true for Ojibwe communities.

I start my usual process, where I skim the article and decide how I’ll organize my notetaking. I click the mechanical pencil I like the best, but the lead I expect to appear at the tip comes out as broken bits.

Jamie is about to run down to the front desk to pick up a package from Hazel. I call out before he leaves.

“Hey, boss, can you spare another mechanical pencil or refills? This lead gave up on me.”

He laughs. “The lead gave up on you, but I never will.” I hear the door open. “Help yourself to any supplies. Bottom drawer.”

I go into his room and check out the bottom drawer. In addition to the mechanical pencil, I find a clear plastic ruler with different shapes cut for use as tracing stencils. It would be cool to raise the game on my notetaking.

Jamie is meticulous about his files the way my dad was. Everything labeled and in alphabetical order. My fingertips trace the files moving toward the front.

I stop at one marked LF.

Daunis’s brother and her dad have the same name: Levi Firekeeper. Her brother who betrayed her and tried to kill Jamie. I spread the hanging file folder enough to glance inside and read a sentence or two.

It’s not about Levi Junior. It’s about her dad, Levi Senior.

I glance around as if Jamie is looking over my shoulder, then close my eyes and listen for footsteps. Hearing none, I take the file and supplies back to my bedroom. The file goes into my hiding spot in the bathroom vanity cabinet. Then I return to the dining table and dive into the article, barely looking up when Jamie returns.

After our second mini workout break, I go into my bathroom and lock the door. The fan is noisy, hopefully muffling the sound of me rifling through the file about Daunis’s dad.

I read quickly.

My hands shake when I finish and close the file.

Daunis has mentioned her dad, Levi Firekeeper, and her maternal grandfather, Lorenzo Fontaine. How her grandfather didn’t like her dad.

Jamie investigated Levi Senior’s death.

There’s a report on the logging industry. It’s the second most dangerous occupation. Only commercial fishers have a higher rate of deaths per workers than loggers. Of all the jobs within the logging industry, the most perilous is that of faller. Fallers cut down trees with handheld power chainsaws. They comprise one sixth of workers in the field, but over one third of the fatalities.