Free St. Clair (Gives Light Series) by Rose Christo Page A

was.
    "It is," he said stubbornly.
    I shrugged, too weary to argue.
    "Anyway... Guess we'd better head back before
    they start thinking we eloped."
    I love you , I signed.
    Rafael looked at me.
    I love you , I signed. There are two ways to say it
    in sign language. The easiest way is to hold your
    hand up and bend your middle and ring fingers.
    Metalheads like to use it when they're moshing,
    although it obviously doesn't mean what they think
    it means. The other method is a lot simpler; even
    people who don't speak sign language will know
    what you're saying. All you have to do is gesture
    to yourself--then your heart--then whoever it is that
    you love.
    Rafael regarded me, for a moment, in soft silence.
    He pressed his lips to my temple.
    "Moron," he said. And I could hear it in his
    voice: I love you, too.

6
He and I
    August was a month of remembrance. At night the
    whole community went out to the badlands to
    celebrate the ghost dance, a dance that reunites the
    souls of the living with the souls of the dead. "We
    dance this at home, too," Marilu told me. I didn't
    exactly dance, but I did provide the music. I
    played a couple of peyote songs on my plains flute
    while our friends and relatives formed circles
    around the bonfire, one circle within the other, and
    hit their hands against their hand drums and shook
    the turtleshell rattles tied to their legs. I really
    liked those peyote songs; but I had a favorite song,
    a supplication song, and it touched me, in a way, to
    hear the Shoshone men and women singing along,
    the words timeless. Father, help me , the song
    went. Father, I want to live. Father, I know you
    did this to me. Father, have pity.
    I wished I believed in a God. Sometimes I did and
    sometimes I didn't. If I'd believed just then, I
    would have asked him to take pity on us. This
    reservation was all the Southern Plains Shoshone
    had left of their ancestral lands. It didn't seem
    right to me that someone else had the power to take
    it away.
    Dad took Marilu and me out on the lake one day in
    Mr. At Dawn's boat. He showed Marilu the
    jumping bass and she clapped her hands together to
    try to catch them between her palms. I scooped a
    handful of floating cress out of the water and
    handed it to Marilu, and she nibbled on it while the
    sun warmed our heads and stroked our backs. I
    breathed in the fresh air; I drank it in through my
    pores. The boat plashing through the water was a
    melody all its own. I whistled the first couple
    verses of Sai Paa Hupia. I thought it was
    appropriate.
    "How's your mother doing these days, Marilu?"
    Dad asked.
    "Oh, she's good," Marilu said, with a mouth full of
    watercress. "She's working real hard to build our
    new house. Otherwise she would have come to
    Nettlebush with Grandma and me. She says you
    should e-mail her, she doesn't have the new phone
    set up."
    We took the boat off the lake around one o'clock.
    "Let's head home for some lunch," Dad suggested.
    I helped him pick up the boat, and we carried it
    together to the forest path.
    "Sky-loser! Wait!"
    I looked over my shoulder, puzzled. Zeke came
    charging toward us, his long hair flying.
    Dad and I set the boat down. What's wrong? I
    signed.
    "The contractors are here! Hurry!"
    I looked at Dad for confirmation; but he was
    already running to the woods. Marilu scooped up
    my hand and we followed Zeke.
    "Shh!" Zeke said loudly. He stopped at a grove of
    beech trees. He threw his arms around a trunk and
    shimmied his way up to its strong limbs--where he
    sat, perched, peeking through the leaves.
    Marilu and I did the same on the next tree over.
    Dad didn't. I think he was afraid the branches
    would snap.
    The view from the top of the beech tree was
    impressive. I could see the entirety of the forest
    from here, the blue star glade and the black bears'
    den, the brooks and the creek and Annie's willow
    tree. I could even see a hint of the Sonoran Desert
    past the tops of the ponderosa pines. I trained my
    eyes on the