Leaving the house she saw that Aunt Bessie’s car was already parked a short way up the street. I hope Tom keeps his eye on her or she’ll work too hard, Abby thought to herself.
It was a busy Monday at school. She had several appointments with students to go over finals and grades and she also worked with the student employment office to find student employees for Tess.
After a quick lunch she checked her mail and found a note from one of the staffers saying that a man called regarding her employment status at the college but he refused to leave a name or number. Per college policy they didn’t give out any information over the phone.
It was the second such call and it alarmed Abby because of her ex husband’s threats but she soon forgot about it in the bustle of tying up loose ends and finishing her progress report for this term and her plans for her next term at the college.
It was the second such call and it alarmed Abby because of her ex husband’s threats but she soon forgot about it in the bustle of tying up loose ends and finishing her progress report for this term and her plans for her next term at the college.
Driving home Abby thought about the tribal council meeting she would be hosting in her home that evening. They were about to enter a new phase in their relationship with the board of supervisors and other government agencies. Tonight would be their final strategy meeting to launch ‘preemptive strike.’ The plan was to get certain historical and cultural sites recognized and recorded before plans for the land became an issue. Abby was the anthropology advisor and authenticator for the council.
The most current clash about property use, called Harvest Hill, was a bone of contention between Abby and Cliff. Cliff felt that the particular tract of land that the council wanted designated as an ‘historical site’, was an ideal place for real estate development and that the council would just have to accept the march of progress.
Abby, on the other hand, said that the council didn’t want the whole tract designated as a historical site, just a small area to commemorate the annual harvest festival and dance that had been held at that particular site for hundreds of years. In the end they agreed to disagree.
Abby fluffed pillows and added last minute touches to the table of coffee and refreshments as she waited for the council members.
Earth tone Berber carpet and walls made a perfect backdrop for the autumn hues of her furniture, drapes, and area rugs. A large fireplace dominated one wall while the adjacent wall was all paned windows with a magnificent ocean view. The remaining two walls were decorated with beautiful American Indian weaving, pottery, baskets, and other authentic pieces that reflected Abby’s good taste and knowledge of her subject.
She seated each member as they arrived and asked about kids by name or other personal topics to make them feel comfortable and at home. She and the council members sat quietly chatting and sipping coffee as they waited for the leaders to arrive.
Finally at 7:15 the two leaders entered together looking troubled about something. They greeted everyone and quickly called the meeting to order. Blackie rose to speak.
“I think I speak for both of us,” Blackie said and continue at Gary’s nod.
“Last Friday the County Board of Supervisors convened an unscheduled meeting”
The council members murmured in surprise.
“At that meeting they gave Brannon Construction Company authorization for the residential development of Harvest Hill.”
Now angry shouts came from the council members.
“But, Blackie, that’s our first project on the preemptive strike agenda,” Abby said.
“Does anyone know who called the meeting,” someone asked?
Their meeting dissolved into chaos while Blackie paced the room, his face marred by anger. Abby knew him as a man of grace, dignity, and gentle humor but tonight his stride and face revealed contained fury.
He collapsed into one of Abby’s easy chairs and kneaded his brow in an unconscious gesture.
As the group began to quiet and look to Blackie for direction he rose and spoke to them quietly for some time.
“We aren’t going to accept this action as ‘fait accompli’”.
Assenting murmurs rose from the group.
“Tomorrow, I’ll make appointments with the board members and with Jack Brannon, owner of Brannon Construction.”
The council nodded in agreement.
Blackie continued, “We aren’t without influence in this community,” he paused, “and we intend to use that influence to test this arbitrary action taken by the supervisors.”
The council applauded his firm stand.
“Meanwhile, Gary, our council attorney, will be checking into the legality of the board’s action. Abby, I would like your presence at the meetings I have with the board members and Brannon,” he stopped and waited for their assent.
Abby nodded her agreement, she was as angry as Blackie. She became angrier still as she realized that someone must have revealed their plans to Brannon or the board.
Blackie went on, “I think we should reconvene this meeting as soon as we have more information. I’ll be calling all of you by midweek.”
They all nodded.
Blackie raised his arm, fist clenched, “The power brokers and politicos may have won an inning but we will win the game,” he promised.
The group applauded and the meeting began to break up. Blackie and Gary held back as the others gathered their jackets and bid Abby good night at the front door.
“See you all in a couple of days,” she called as they walked to their cars.
Abby shut the door and walked back into the living room where Blackie and Gary waited. They often stayed to chat with Abby after the formal meetings.
“More coffee, guys,” she asked?
“Got anything stronger,” Blackie asked?
“Sure, brandy,” she answered, knowing Blackie liked brandy.
“Brandy sound good to you too, Gary,” Blackie asked?
Gary nodded his assent as they followed Abby into the kitchen and took seats at the oak table.
Abby poured brandy into their snifters and poured a cup of tea for herself.
Blackie took a sip and rolled it around on his tongue, “Ahhh,” he said relaxing visibly.
Sensing something, Abby said, “O.K., guys, Give me the rest of the bad news.”
Gary took a deep breath, “If there was any way we could keep from telling you this, Abby, we would.”
“Give, guys,” she braced herself and took a sip of tea.
Gary continued, “My sister and her husband live in Sacramento. They were at the country club golf course Friday and they stopped at the club house for a drink after their game.”
Blackie took her hand and continued the story. “Look Abby, there were four guys sitting at the table next to them. They’d been drinking for a while after 18 holes in the sun. You know how guys get, buddy-buddy, good old boy stuff,” he paused, “They were all laughing about how they cut the Indians off at the pass on Harvest Hill.
Blackie felt her hand clench into a fist.
Gary picked up the story, “Anyway, my sister’s ears perked up at the mention of Indians and Harvest Hill. One of the guys was Ed Timmons, Jack Brannon’s right hand man; the other two were investors in several of Brannon’s projects. Anyway it became pretty obvious from the conversation that the fourth man had provided them with some insider information that enabled them to get a jump on the Harvest Hill project.”
Abby slumped back into the chair, “And the fourth man was Cliff,” she sighed.
The three sat in silence staring at their drinks.
Blackie leaned forward and gently took her face in his hands, “Don’t blame yourself, Abby, It could have happened to any one of us,” he soothed.
“But it was me who brought the Trojan horse into camp. I’m the only outsider in the group,” she said with remorse.
Blackie chucked her under the chin, “Hey, don’t go there, we need you. Not only for the help you’ve been with the council but, more importantly, with the pride of heritage you’ve instilled in our kids in that classroom of yours.”
There were tears in Abby’s eyes as she thanked Blackie and Gary, “Listen, I need to shed some silly, female tears,” and then her smile broke through the tears, “in lieu of punching that jerk out.”
They both laughed and gave her big, bear hugs on the way out, and Gary said, “At least we won’t have to come and bail you out of the slammer for tears. Tears are so much more sensible then a knockdown, drag out.”
Blackie said,” I’ll call you tomorrow as soon as I make those appointments. I really need you with me, Abby.”
“Call on my cell phone, Blackie, I’ll have to get back to you if I’m in a conference or counseling a student,” she said.
“I will,” Blackie touched her cheek, “Are you going to be O.K.” he asked?
“I’m just so mad, I could spit,” she said in anger.
They both laughed.
“Thanks guys, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Abby shut the door harder than necessary and turned back to the room with hands on hips. ”The bloody traitor.” He knew all of that information was between us, but he had to be a big shot with his buddies. Being a big shot was apparently more important than his feelings for me, more important than loyalty.
Waif had come back into the room when all of the humans left. She stood in the middle of the room watching Abby, alarmed by her unusual behavior.
Abby plopped into a chair and called the cat up on to her lap. As she stroked her nuzzling feline friend she began to calm down.
“Waif, for a cat from the docks, you exhibit excellent breeding. I apologized for the raised voice and unseemly display of temper.”
“Waif, for a cat from the docks, you exhibit excellent breeding. I apologized for the raised voice and unseemly display of temper.”
She thought about calling Tess. It was
Monday night and she probably wasn’t busy but she decided she’d start crying and wouldn’t be able to carry on a conversation.
She got up tiredly and carried cups into the kitchen and tidied up the living room. The cobbler hadn’t even been touched so she put it in the refrigerator, rinsed off the cups and saucers and put them into the dishwasher.
First thing tomorrow I’ll call Cliff to see when he will be back in town, she thought to herself. She wanted it to be clear to Cliff that it was over between them.
The next day she took the cobbler into the teacher’s lounge and received many happy thanks from the staff and faculty. She took the opportunity to tell them all about Aunt Bessie and her last Sunday of the month potlucks. Perhaps, she could entice some of them into visiting the church and the cove.
Abby was in the teacher’s lounge gathering her pan and spatula when her phone began to vibrate. She excused herself and slipped out between the buildings and to take the call.
Blackie told her with some humor that most of the board members were very hard to track down. He had learned that the vote was six to four in favor of allowing development and that the six voting yes were out of town or couldn’t be reached. Brannon had been busy all day but had agreed to meet with Blackie and Abby at ten the next morning. Blackie gave her directions to Brannon’s office and rang off.
Abby knew she could juggle her schedule and take the morning off. This meeting was too important to miss and she had the time coming and the term’s work completed.
Abby dressed carefully the next day for the meeting with Jack Brannon. She selected a dove grey suit with fitted, classic lines and darker grey accessories. The purse was small and the heels were high, consisting of nothing but delicate straps. She softened the whole effect with a simple white silk blouse with a froth of lace at her throat and wrists and finished the look with a locket and earrings that belonged to her mother. She did her nails the night before and now she took special care with her makeup and hair.
If you looked at the parts you would see a business suit but when you took in the whole you saw a soft, slender, feminine woman who enjoyed that fact without surrendering an inch of competence or intelligence.
If you looked at the parts you would see a business suit but when you took in the whole you saw a soft, slender, feminine woman who enjoyed that fact without surrendering an inch of competence or intelligence.
As she got out of her car Abby heard a resounding wolf whistle from across the street. She turned on her long legs and looked over her shoulder as she put her keys in the small purse. Blackie was grinning from ear to ear as he climbed out of his sports car and sprinted across the street toward her.
“Wow, Abby, you’re a real knock out in that outfit. Eat your heart out, Audrey Hepburn.”
She twirled for him and tucked her hand into his arm, “Thanks Blackie. I needed that after Monday night,” she said.
“Hmm, outfit needs gloves, ending at the wrist with little pearl buttons. I’ll buy some for you,” he grinned down at her.
When they reached Brannon’s building he held the door open for her, “That fish and game guy was never good enough for you,” he said.
He sounded serious, “Do you really believe that Blackie,” she asked?
“You bet, little girl,” he said as he punched the elevator button. “That man was not popular among the local Indians or any minority group as far as that goes.”
She was about to say more but the elevator door opened and he took her arm and led her out into a long carpeted hallway.
“Blackie, let’s say a prayer before we go in, we need God’s help.”
“You won’t get an argument from me,” he said, “I wouldn’t go into surgery without Him.”
Blackie took her hands and said a brief prayer. They had never talked about it but his belief added a whole new dimension to their relationship. She grinned at him with confidence.
They were ushered into Brannon’s office promptly at ten. The man behind the desk was engrossed in some papers but looked up when his secretary announced them. When he saw Abby in the doorway he stood with more formal acknowledgement.
Jack Brannon wasn’t at all what Abby had expected. At five foot eleven and barrel-chested he exuded quiet power and authority. His hand when he shook hers was scarred and calloused from hard work and the nose on his ruddy, Irish face had obviously been broken at least once.
This man looked more like a construction stiff than the company owner. His khaki’s and shirt, open at the throat with sleeves rolled up, didn’t detract from that impression.
This man looked more like a construction stiff than the company owner. His khaki’s and shirt, open at the throat with sleeves rolled up, didn’t detract from that impression.
“Mrs…, ah, Ms. Cavanaugh,” he corrected himself, “Mr. Jordan please sit down.”
Abby was trying to suppress a grin as she sat down. The three made quite a trio. She exemplified simple elegance; Blackie, tailored sophistication; and Jack Brannon, a rough and tumble Irish pug
“Something funny, Ms. Cavanaugh,” Brannon asked?
Her twitching lips wouldn’t obey her inner admonition, “Sorry, Mr. Brannon, I’m beginning to feel a bit overdressed.”
He looked at the two of them and then down at himself. A twinkle appeared in his eye and he threw back his head and laughed, “You sure have a firm grasp on the obvious, Ms. Cavanaugh.”
When he stopped laughing he leaned back in his chair and looked at them across the expanse of his desk, “I understand that the two of you want to stop my development at harvest hill. Is that the specific issue we’re facing today,” he asked?
Blackie leaned forward in his chair, “Mr. Brannon, that’s not really the issue but I have to state, strongly that our council does resent the underhanded way Brannon Construction went about getting board approval. In fact I have our council attorney checking the legality of that issue as we speak.”
“I have my own attorney’s checking that very point also, Mr. Jordan. For now, why don’t we leave that question to the attorneys and get to the crux of the matter.”
Abby decided to speak up at that point, “Mr. Brannon, for hundreds of years Mr. Jordan’s tribe has held an annual harvest celebration on the top of that hill. That is why it’s called “Harvest Hill.” What we would like to do is erect some kind of monument on the hilltop to commemorate that fact.”
“And the celebration dance,” Brannon asked?
“Mr. Brannon, we hold our dances and celebrations at our own tribal center,” Blackie said sarcastically.
Jack Brannon raised his hand, “Sorry Mr. Jordan, but I’m planning a retirement community for that tract of land, something the average retired couple can afford. You’ll find if you look into it that elderly couples are looking for quiet and safety when seeking retirement homes.”
Blackie started to rise from his seat in anger, mistaking Brannon’s inference, but Abby touched the back of his hand and he leaned back and crossed his legs.
Brannon was tapping his pencil on the desk top, “Look, Jordan, the only reason I brought that up is because I’m planning a security gate for the community.”
He paused, “But if what you say is true – well, it wouldn’t be right to fence it off. Kind of like fencing off the Blarney Stone, if you get my meaning,” he said to the two of them.
He paused, “But if what you say is true – well, it wouldn’t be right to fence it off. Kind of like fencing off the Blarney Stone, if you get my meaning,” he said to the two of them.
Blackie relaxed and grinned, “I get your meaning Mr. Brannon, and I see your problem, our elderly have the same concerns.”
Brannon who had been facing Blackie swung his chair around to Abby, “I understand you’re the verifying authority, Ms. Cavanaugh. Do you have a written report I could go over tonight, I have meetings scheduled all day today.”
“All prepared and properly documented, Mr. Brannon,” she handed him the report.
“Figured you’d be prepared,” he said with a smile, his admiration obvious.
Brannon got to his feet, “Look, I need some time to read the report and think this through. Could we get together in a few days and go over our options,” he asked?
Blackie hesitated, “I’d like to have a firm date set for our next meeting,” he said.
“Fair enough,” Brannon said, “But this is a hell of a busy week. I’m afraid the meeting will have to be after business hours if that’s all right with you two?”
“Abby, how about Friday,” Blackie asked?
“Friday’s good for me,” Abby said.
“Friday would give me time to study the report and work with my plans if need be,” Brannon said turning toward Blackie.
Blackie nodded his agreement.
“In that case, why don’t we meet up on harvest hill, Friday at 4:30,” Brannon said, “I’d like to see the exact spot we’re talking about.”
Abby took the time to inform Jack Brannon that Blackie was actually Dr. Blackie Jordan who practiced at Redwood Coast Hospital.
“Well, then Dr. Jordan,” and he shook hands with Blackie once more, “if my memory serves me right you were a great receiver in college who never went pro. Always wondered what happened to you.”
“Had a better offer, Brannon, one I couldn’t refuse.”
“At that age I don’t think I could have passed up everything pro football had to offer,” Brannon said, “You must be very wise and disciplined.”
Blackie lifted his hands, “A surgeon’s hands. I couldn’t risk them,” he explained.
“Weren’t you on a football scholarship in college,” Jack asked?
“Yes,” said Blackie, “It was my only ticket to college.”
“I didn’t come from money either, had to take another way around. It’s a pleasure to meet the two of you.”
“And you, Jack,” Blackie nodded.
As they walked out of the office building, Blackie asked, “Do you have time for lunch, Abby?”
Abby looked at him and said, “If this is about Cliff I’m not seeing him anymore, Blackie.”
“I’m glad about that Abby, you deserve much better, but actually I think you look far too sexy to send home without lunch.”
“Well, thank you doctor,” she semi-curtsied, “you look pretty sharp yourself.”
Blackie took her hand and led her around the corner to a funky little deli called, City Park.
The café was decorated with hanging plants, ficus trees and half barrels full of bright flowers. A huge skylight enhanced the sylvan atmosphere and redwood picnic tables were scattered discretely around the room and on a back patio with potted plants and shrubbery giving a sense of privacy to the diners. It does look a bit like a park, she thought.
The café was decorated with hanging plants, ficus trees and half barrels full of bright flowers. A huge skylight enhanced the sylvan atmosphere and redwood picnic tables were scattered discretely around the room and on a back patio with potted plants and shrubbery giving a sense of privacy to the diners. It does look a bit like a park, she thought.
There was a long line along the side where the hostess greeted Blackie by name and handed him a large wicker picnic basket. They followed an open deli case attractively filled with picnic items.
“Wow,” Abby said, “everything from cold chicken and potato salad to champagne and caviar.”
Abby was delighted with the café and selected a fresh spinach salad for lunch, a fresh pear and Camembert for dessert, and a bottle of cold water.
Blackie selected pastrami on rye, a beer and paid for their lunch. He carried the basket to one of the tables and arranged their picnic on a real table cloth with real silver ware and crystal.
Blackie selected pastrami on rye, a beer and paid for their lunch. He carried the basket to one of the tables and arranged their picnic on a real table cloth with real silver ware and crystal.
He took her hands and offered a blessing for the food.
“What a great place, Blackie, how did you happen to find it,” she asked as she unrolled the chilled glass goblet from her cloth napkin?
“I heard it by word of mouth among the doctors at the hospital.”
“Please tell me about your football career,” she said, “Brannon seemed quite impressed.”
“I played well enough in high school to be offered a scholarship to college and I jumped at the chance. That scholarship was a blessing so I studied hard and applied for medical school while I was in college.”
“You always wanted to be a doctor?” she asked.
“As soon as I gave up on the idea of being a great Indian warrior,” he grinned at her.
“And medical school,” she asked?
“I won a great scholarship for native Americans. I think they were impressed because I was willing to pass on a pro football career for medicine. I wasn’t the greatest scholar in the world but I did have a touch for surgery so here I am, Dr Jordan.”
“That’s quite a story of achievement,” she said.
“I just put one foot in front of the other while God performed the miracles,” he said.
She was learning more about his character today then she had over the last few years. She was beginning to wonder if the playboy doctor image was more a product of gossip than a reality.
He touched her hand, “I was worried about you after the meeting Monday night,” he said, “I almost called you when I got home but the hospital got me first.”
“I’m fine, Blackie. I’m just furious at what Cliff did to us. And my pride’s a little damaged,” she admitted.
“Pride will mend as long as the heart’s not broken.”
“No broken heart,” she said, “Actually, it never was an exclusive relationship, but people seemed to take it that way.”
“Good, you deserve better, little flower,” he said gently.
“Whoops, I forgot something in the car,” he said, “Will you be O.K. if I run and get it,” he asked?
“Sure, go ahead,” she assured him.
He’s so thoughtful, and he always makes me feel so female without being condescending. I guess it’s because he’s so masculine, she thought.
He hurried back in with a manila envelope and set it on the table.
“What kind of memorial do you think we should put up if everything works out?” he asked.
“Something natural,” she said, “something that fits in environment.”
“Agreed. Maybe a boulder sheared off and carved with dancing, Native Americans that are thanking God for the bountiful harvest.”
“We need to incorporate the element of time passing too,” she said.
“Take a look at the photographs in the envelope,” he requested.
“Did you take these,” she asked?
“Oh, this artist is terrific,” she said, “So talented and his work look so authentic. I’d like to see it in person.”
“Good,” Blackie said, “What are you doing a week from Sunday?”
“I’d really like to consider commissioning him for the memorial but I want someone else’s opinion and you know authentic artifacts and you’re very knowledgeable about art.”
She thought about it, “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to take a Sunday off.”
“The artist has a show in Sacramento right now. I thought we could go down early and spend as much time as we want at the show then have an early dinner,” Blackie said.
Why not, she thought, its council business.
“Great, it sounds like fun,” pleased, she clapped her hands together.
Blackie told her more about the artist then checked his watch, “Darn, I’m due at the clinic in twenty minutes; someday I’m going to slow down.”
He walked Abby to her camper then hopped into his car and roared off.
@ 2013 May karenmaceanruig
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