If only he wasn’t so demanding and grumpy. If only he didn’t tell her what she needed to do and how to do it. Her father really would retire one of these days. He expected her to take over as CEO at Walworth and, though it was the last thing she wanted, Grace knew she would do as he wished. Reaching up to close the blinds, she forced herself to stare at the papers in front of her.
“AREN’T YOU AFRAID your dad’s gonna kill you?” Kiki asked Angela on Monday morning, halfway through building a semitraditional sweat lodge a hundred yards from the house.
Angela glanced at her friend, who was decked out in her usual black clothes and makeup, but with new purple extensions flowing from her hair. “Dad grounded me, he said I had to stay home, but he didn’t say I had to stay inside.” It was her spring break, after all. The community college had been off the week before, so Dad was at work and she was theoretically alone. He’d probably have a cow if he knew Kiki was here. “Besides, he’ll have to see I’m doing something worthwhile.”
Even if her father wasn’t into Chippewa culture the way she was. And even if her true intention was to have a place to get away from him. She could come out here to avoid his lectures about how she needed to be practical, to plan for her future, about how she was always doing things the wrong way—which really meant she wasn’t doing things his way.
“What if he asks why you decided to build a lodge?” Kiki asked.
She wouldn’t tell him the truth. “I’ll say I was inspired the last time I stayed with Gran Maddie. He never argues with his mother about anything. He just can’t know you were here helping me. By the time he comes home from work, we’ll be finished. Too late for him to tell me to forget it.”
Kiki circled the half dome of saplings they’d tied together with twine. “Um, I hate to say it, but it looks a little crooked.”
Sighing, Angela agreed. “It does, but it’s my first try. It’ll have to do for now. Let’s get this stuff up.” She indicated the pile of tarps and blankets she’d collected from the house. “Blankets first. The tarps will keep them from getting wet when it rains.”
“Yeah, if you get to keep it up that long.”
Angela’s chest tightened. Dad had better not make her take her sweat lodge down! She didn’t know what she might do if he did.
They spent the next twenty minutes carefully aligning blankets and securing them to the frame, leaving an opening facing east, but with a flap she could lower for complete darkness. And privacy.
“So what did you do yesterday when Dad dragged me away from the mural?” Angela asked.
“Something fun.”
“What?”
“I got back at them—the creepy Green Meadows residents who wanted us arrested.”
“Kiki, what did you do?”
“I called someone who would be interested in murders and ghosts. Hopefully, he’ll scare them to death!”
Angela rolled her eyes. Wasn’t the mural enough for one day? “Are you sure you should have done that? If anyone finds out, you’re going to get yourself in trouble.”
“So? I’ve been arrested before. No biggie.”
Arrested. Angela shuddered as they began gathering large stones. She knew Kiki had been arrested for shoplifting once and had spent a day behind bars. She didn’t want that fate for herself. She’d hoped they could disappear before someone discovered they were painting a mural on that wall, and when they were caught, she’d really been afraid someone would call the cops.
Having borrowed the portable fire pit from the deck, she’d set it on its pad a dozen feet from the lodge. She layered the bottom with wood and covered it with the stones they’d gathered before starting the fire. They really should be volcanic rock, but she didn’t know where to get those, so fieldstone would have to do. While she filled a bucket with water and set it inside, Kiki dug a hole in the ground under the dome. Then they used shovels to move the hot rocks into the hole.
“That’s it. We’re ready.” Feeling a sense of accomplishment, Angela crawled inside, careful not to get too close to the heat.
Following suit, Kiki turned on a battery-operated light and lowered the flap.
“Ready?” Angela asked.
“I am if you are.”
Angela lifted the bucket and poured water onto the hot stones, filling the dome with steam. Wow, it really did get hot in there fast! She was already beginning to sweat. Then it was time to start the ceremony that would bring them closer together, as Native American tradition dictated. She’d researched sweat lodges. They weren’t going to strip off their clothes, but they’d worn tank tops under their shirts and bicycle shorts to help with perspiration. Kiki was already taking off her black cotton blouse.
On to the ceremony. According to the sources Angela had found on the internet, they were supposed to conduct a “talking circle.”
“Kiki, you start. Speak from your heart about your life and concerns.”
“What life? You know what I have to deal with. I guess that’s my concern, too.”
Angela knew that Kiki had drawn the short straw when it came to family, but somehow she’d held up under the negativity and was a good-hearted person anyway. And a really good friend.
“Isn’t there anyone out there for you?” she asked. “An aunt or an uncle? A cousin?”
“A grandmother. Somewhere.”
“You never told me that before!”
Kiki shrugged. “Why would I? It’s not like I know her. The last time I saw her I was seven. We were living in Chicago at the time. She and my mom had a big fight, and Mom told her she was leaving town and Grandma would never see either of us again.”
“Sorry. I didn’t know that.” And that meant Kiki’s grandmother didn’t have any idea her granddaughter was in trouble and needed her. “What’s her name?”
“Elizabeth Hartl. Why?”
“Maybe we could find her.”
“Why bother? She won’t want me around. No one does.”
Angela was sure Kiki’s foster mother had convinced her of that. “Well I want you around.” There had to be a way to find Kiki’s grandmother. Surely the woman wouldn’t want her granddaughter in some terrible foster home. Wanting to get her friend’s spirits up, she said, “Why don’t you speak about your dreams. Or anything that comes to you that puts a smile in your heart. What would make you really happy?”
“Okay... I wish... I wish I had a father like yours.”
“Like mine?” Angela choked out. Still angry with Dad, she was aghast. “But he’s always ordering me around!”
“Because he wants the best for you. He takes good care of you. You have a great bedroom and an art room, too.” Kiki’s voice rose to a squeak. “The only nice thing I have is my tattoo.”
“It really is beautiful,” Angela said, thinking of the roses tattooed on her friend’s hip. Despite being underage, Kiki had found someone to ink her.
“Most of all,” Kiki went on, “your dad’s here with you. And he loves you.”
“I’m sure your mom loves you. Your real mom, I mean.”
“A