The Deed (31 page)

Tracking Indians, no less,
he reminded himself.

He continued tramping through the mulchy underbrush as the land fell away toward the ocean.
Toward Long Island Sound,
he corrected himself with a sudden grin; suddenly Amanda’s father made sense. The trees were heavy with water above him; the same wind that inhaled him steadily down the hill occasionally shook out a sprinkling cascade from branches above, gradually drenching his hair and shoulders.

Still warm in the afterglow of the pot and focused by the solitude, Jason thought he could see something holy in this untouched chunk of forest, where statuesque trees stretched fat, lazy arms in every direction amid chattering stands of saplings.
Beautiful,
he thought, then shook his head; the word seemed cheap.

Maybe this was why Amanda’s mom was so resistant to the influence of the West, for all its advantages. To voluntarily subvert your power to the wild magic of the natural world, instead of yielding to the human temptation to assume ownership of that world, was to loiter forever in childhood, to refuse to accept the awesome destructive powers of the adult world. There was comfort in that. The earth would always be there, and voluntarily submitting to its rule let you cleave indefinitely to a parent who would never desert you.

The sea hove into view at last, choppy and laced with foam, the horizon nearly invisible between the twin grays of sea and sky. An instant later he’d broken free of the trees, and at last saw Amanda and her mother. The women, huddled against the cold, formed a small pocket of color atop a breathtaking little sandy cove right at land’s end, where the last of the forest turf, undermined by the ceaseless undercut of the waves, had been scalloped into high dunes.

Mother and daughter sat on a rocky overhang by their discarded shoes some forty feet away, dangling bare feet over the ocean, and though he didn’t say a word, they turned to face him as abruptly as if he’d stepped on a Model A’s oogah horn. Amanda’s quick shock mellowed into a confused little wave; her mother just glanced over, then back at the sea. With a pang, Jason wondered whether he was intruding into a sacred spot: Actaeon surprising Artemis and her huntresses, and about to get torn apart for his troubles. But he pressed forward with a confident wave of his own, buoyed on by his mission.

Cut the shit, lady,
he said to himself.
Don’t you know who I am?

Throughout the inevitable exchange of pleasantries and the satisfaction of the women’s great curiosity as to his mystical appearance here, Mary remained mostly silent, nodding and tossing off a syllable or two where required, watching Jason intently. Amanda, though, made no secret of her delight at seeing him, though she’d waved warily when he first walked up, as if his approach might magnetically repel her mother off the dune and into the sea. He wondered if he’d by chance shown up at just the right moment to interrupt a conversation about himself.

“Why am I here?” he repeated the question, when Amanda had finally gotten around to asking him, freeing him at last to roll out the speech he’d played out during the cab ride. “I’m here to claim my birthright,” he continued, looking past Amanda to her mother. “Mary, I apologize for everything I said the last time I was here. You were right, I really didn’t know who I was.”

Amanda self-consciously backed up a step—they were all standing, now—evening up the legs of their conversational triangle.

“But I do now,” said Jason. “My name is Jason Hansvoort, son of David, son of Elwood, son of Robert, son of Sam.” He grimaced briefly at the treacherous little cosmic joke trying to undercut his solemnity, then soldiered on. “Son of Hendrick, son of…”

He trailed off here as a look flitted between daughter and mother. “I’ve made all the connections,” he summarized. “I can trace my lineage back directly, right back to Pieter Haansvoort. There was one jump in the middle but I’ve solved it: an unmarried girl in the mid-1700s named Charity.”

“Charity,” said Amanda wonderingly, tasting it on her tongue.

“Yes,” he replied, excited. “‘What Providence hath granted, let Charity never forget.’”

Amanda was nodding, eyes closed, feeling the truth of this wash over her. “She stayed a Haansvoort because she never married.”

“Bingo,” said Jason. “And I know what you want,” he said, redirecting his attention to Mary. “You want to know that I’m not in this thing for the money; you want to know that I can see the big picture, that I’m…here with my ancestors, and not just for myself…you want to know that I’m also part of a family.”

She said nothing, as he’d half-expected, so he continued. “Well, I’ll tell you exactly where my head is, and you can decide whether you want anything to do with me or not. I think that Nahoti, your ancestor, must have saved mine—or maybe just made his life worth living. There had to be a damn good reason he put his neck on the line to stand up for her tribe…your tribe. And in return for whatever she gave him, he gave your people a future. Saved them too, maybe…”

He stumbled for a moment, having become aware that he was on the verge of dissolving into stoner tangentiality—becoming more and more right but less and less understandable. “Put it this way,” he tried to simplify. “This deed doesn’t exist apart from your people; I understand that. Amanda’s resurrected it as surely as if she’d written it herself. Without me, it’s just a piece of paper. But without you, it doesn’t exist at all.

“Mary, I know you take the long view historically, so it’s hard for you to trust a nice white nice guy like me. That’s essentially what you’re waiting for, isn’t it? A white man you can trust?” He looked away, briefly scanning the horizon for the answer, listening as a handful of oversize raindrops began scattering velvety fingertaps into the sand. “All I can do is assure you that I know I’m a pawn in this…in the history-altering event going on here,” he continued. “I have no pride anymore. Too much has happened here that I can’t explain, too many coincidences. I recognize that I’m being pulled along by the…by the tide, here, as much as you are.” He took a breath. “But I’m not just any white man. I’m the descendant of the man to whom your ancestor devoted her life and entrusted the fortunes of her people. That’s who I am.”

A smile slowly broke across Mary’s face. “You’ve made some strides since we last spoke,” she said.

“Hmm…well, don’t start talking down to me again, or I’ll take it all back,” Jason replied. Amanda grinned in relief, then looked skyward when a large raindrop bounced a small sheaf of bangs down into her eye.

“I won’t promise you anything, Mary,” Jason continued, ignoring the shower that was coming on fast. “I know you wouldn’t accept it if I did. But whatever this thing is that’s now officially taken over my life, I’m going to see it through.”

He paused now, waiting for a response. Mary studied him, but her eyes were sparkling. “Ooh, I like you much better this time around,” she said at last.

“I claim the deed as my birthright,” Jason added: a coda.

He exhaled in relief, satisfied with his ending, but Mary was shaking her head.

“The deed is lost,” she said.

They followed her back through the wettening woods; as soon as it became clear that Mary didn’t intend to say another word until they’d reached shelter, Jason hung back to exchange a few words with Amanda.

“Your father’s at the house,” he said as a warning. “Freaked the holy hell out of me.”

“He was out all night,” said Amanda, watching her shoes traverse a muddy puddle. “He’s just hung over, that’s all.”

Feeling a little shut out, he fell silent.

“If he’s still there, don’t mention the deed or any of it, okay?”

“How come?”

She shrugged. “My mom doesn’t trust him.”

“Good enough,” agreed Jason, nodding. But it was a moot point; even as they began to crest the final hill and the house came into view, they heard a car kick into life and drive away.

They entered the house single file: Mary first, kicking off her wet shoes, Jason politely following suit, Amanda bringing up the rear.

“It’s somewhere on the island,” said Mary, as if crossing the threshold had freed her to break the silence. “The last person who knew where it was died almost a hundred years ago.”

Jason, still in a crouch to remove his wet shoes, felt a chill as Amanda pulled the door closed behind him. He watched in amusement as she shucked her light jacket, eyes narrowed on her mom like a tiger on its prey.

“But there’s more,” Amanda prodded.

Mary only raised her eyebrows mysteriously and headed out of the entry hall. “Amanda, why don’t you get us some coffee?” she called out, halfway to the living room.

Jason grinned at this. “Just sugar for me, sweetie. Thanks.”

Amanda flipped him the bird, then stepped quickly into the kitchen.

He followed Mary’s trail into the living room, but she’d already disappeared somewhere farther into the house, leaving him alone to glance around. The two housecats were here again, positions only trivially changed since his last visit, little mismatched lumps of kinetic art.

“Your hair looks good wet,” he said when Amanda entered with a coffee tray.

She sneered in a cute way, then blew a straggling cowlick up and out of her eyes with a quick Popeye lip whistle. Crossing the room to him, she set the tray down and sat on the couch, and he lowered himself into an easy chair next to her.

“So, son of Elroy…,” she said, eyes twinkling.

“Elwood,” he laughed. “Don’t start with me, woman.”

“Seriously, nice job. I’m impressed.”

Jason smiled;
bring it on, baby.

“No offense,” she said, eyes twinkling, “but did you really come all the way out here because you were so proud of yourself for figuring that out?”

“Well,
someone
had to kick this search into gear.”

“Sure,” said Amanda.

“Oh,
I
get it,” said Jason, enjoying himself immensely. “You think I came all the way out here to see
your
drippy ass. Is that it?”

She laughed. “Puh-lease.”

He smiled automatically at hearing her now-familiar laugh; something in their relationship was shifting.

With that, Mary swooped back into the living room, holding a small, dark wooden box. “I’m going to tell you everything I know, but I warn you, it’s not much,” she said grandly.