Read Online Another Chance by Janet Cooper - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Janet Cooper
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back and mimicked his father and great-grandfather. What a handsome boy he was. Surely, they could be friends.
Unable to contain her curiosity, Sarah asked, "What is happening now?"
"We honor my father by having a feast in his name ."
Sarah waited.
"Placing our mats in a circle around the pyramid allows him whose heart flies free to join our celebration," Luke added .
White Owl stood . "My people." He held out his hands. The firelight added streaks of red to his silver-white hair. The soft glow masked the facial lines so visible earlier today. "Tonight, gifts will be given to each of you, in memory of my son." His voice rang out strong and firm, denying his years. "During our festival, we remember him whose name we cannot say by recalling his deeds."
Luke leaned over to Sarah and her father and spoke softly, "My son and I will pass out tokens of affection. We have selected a special remembrance for each member of our community."
The man and boy rose and, after picking up two trays piled high with various items, walked around inside the circle . At the foot of each person, they laid a gift. To Sarah's shock, she received a small box made of porcupine quills. It was beautiful. She looked up at Luke. The barest hint of a smile touched his lips. She opened her mouth to say, "Thanks," but noticed no one else had uttered a word. Instead, she smiled her appreciation, then lifted her gift and admired the delicate workmanship.
Sarah noticed Little Turtle had presented Benjamin with a wooden whistle. She admired the carvings that adorned the recorder-like instrument.
Trailing behind the Keenans, the house servants distributed what Sarah assumed was food into the large bowls or wooden trenchers that sat before each person. As the women came closer, the smells confirmed Sarah's guess. Her knowledge of what food the colonists ate helped her recognize the various dishes. Chunks of deer meat on wooden spits came first; then slices of broiled fish were placed nearby. One woman carried a clay pot and her helper dipped the stewed pumpkins onto the plates, while another ladled squash. Next, corn cakes mixed with some type of berries. Finally, a woman poured a dark liquid into earthenware mugs. When all the people had received their share, food was placed on the mat before the grave site.
"May our offerings help prepare you for your journey," the boy said in a humble and solemn tone as he faced the monument .
Although Sarah could not see Little Turtle's face, his voice brought tears to her eyes. Luke put his hand on his son's shoulder. The child looked up. The reflection from the firelight caught the tears that rolled down the boy's face. As her attention shifted to Luke, she saw a streak of flesh colored skin. He, too, had shed tears that had washed a wavy line through the charcoal mask he had painted on earlier.
She remembered a painting by N . C. Wyeth called ‘Silent Burial’. The illustration showed a very stoic Indian with a solemn, soulful expression. Every time she had seen the oil, she had thought she could see a tear in the warrior's eyes. Staring at Silver Wolf, she felt sure she had. Silver Wolf? Why had his Lenape name struck her? As she watched him, she realized it suited him far better than Luke.
Gently, Luke turned the boy, and the two trudged back to their seats . As they approached, the deep tie and love the father and son felt for one another shone around them. Sarah swallowed the lump in her throat at such tenderness.
After everyone had started eating, Sarah took a sip of her drink. She tried to identify the mixture, but wasn't sure. Since she wanted to make friends with the boy, she asked, "What are we drinking, Little Turtle?" She leaned forward, trying to catch his eye.
"I do not know," he responded gruffly, staring at the fire .
"Yes, you do," his father said, quietly but very firmly .
"Why should I answer a white?" the small boy snapped back .
Sarah sat upright.
Silver Wolf whirled on his son .
Unable to contain her curiosity, Sarah asked, "What is happening now?"
"We honor my father by having a feast in his name ."
Sarah waited.
"Placing our mats in a circle around the pyramid allows him whose heart flies free to join our celebration," Luke added .
White Owl stood . "My people." He held out his hands. The firelight added streaks of red to his silver-white hair. The soft glow masked the facial lines so visible earlier today. "Tonight, gifts will be given to each of you, in memory of my son." His voice rang out strong and firm, denying his years. "During our festival, we remember him whose name we cannot say by recalling his deeds."
Luke leaned over to Sarah and her father and spoke softly, "My son and I will pass out tokens of affection. We have selected a special remembrance for each member of our community."
The man and boy rose and, after picking up two trays piled high with various items, walked around inside the circle . At the foot of each person, they laid a gift. To Sarah's shock, she received a small box made of porcupine quills. It was beautiful. She looked up at Luke. The barest hint of a smile touched his lips. She opened her mouth to say, "Thanks," but noticed no one else had uttered a word. Instead, she smiled her appreciation, then lifted her gift and admired the delicate workmanship.
Sarah noticed Little Turtle had presented Benjamin with a wooden whistle. She admired the carvings that adorned the recorder-like instrument.
Trailing behind the Keenans, the house servants distributed what Sarah assumed was food into the large bowls or wooden trenchers that sat before each person. As the women came closer, the smells confirmed Sarah's guess. Her knowledge of what food the colonists ate helped her recognize the various dishes. Chunks of deer meat on wooden spits came first; then slices of broiled fish were placed nearby. One woman carried a clay pot and her helper dipped the stewed pumpkins onto the plates, while another ladled squash. Next, corn cakes mixed with some type of berries. Finally, a woman poured a dark liquid into earthenware mugs. When all the people had received their share, food was placed on the mat before the grave site.
"May our offerings help prepare you for your journey," the boy said in a humble and solemn tone as he faced the monument .
Although Sarah could not see Little Turtle's face, his voice brought tears to her eyes. Luke put his hand on his son's shoulder. The child looked up. The reflection from the firelight caught the tears that rolled down the boy's face. As her attention shifted to Luke, she saw a streak of flesh colored skin. He, too, had shed tears that had washed a wavy line through the charcoal mask he had painted on earlier.
She remembered a painting by N . C. Wyeth called ‘Silent Burial’. The illustration showed a very stoic Indian with a solemn, soulful expression. Every time she had seen the oil, she had thought she could see a tear in the warrior's eyes. Staring at Silver Wolf, she felt sure she had. Silver Wolf? Why had his Lenape name struck her? As she watched him, she realized it suited him far better than Luke.
Gently, Luke turned the boy, and the two trudged back to their seats . As they approached, the deep tie and love the father and son felt for one another shone around them. Sarah swallowed the lump in her throat at such tenderness.
After everyone had started eating, Sarah took a sip of her drink. She tried to identify the mixture, but wasn't sure. Since she wanted to make friends with the boy, she asked, "What are we drinking, Little Turtle?" She leaned forward, trying to catch his eye.
"I do not know," he responded gruffly, staring at the fire .
"Yes, you do," his father said, quietly but very firmly .
"Why should I answer a white?" the small boy snapped back .
Sarah sat upright.
Silver Wolf whirled on his son .
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