Travis Westcott felt pure and utter joy rush through his body as he stood before the Kolheek Council of Elders.
“—but there is one, very small—” the speaker paused, her bronze, wizened face showing little emotion “—catch.”
His stomach lurching with sudden suspicion, Travis couldn’t keep the dismay from his voice as he repeated, “Catch?” His brow furrowed, his head tilting a fraction. “What sort of catch?”
He’d worked so hard to prove himself worthy to these people. He’d traveled from Philadelphia to the northern Vermont reservation four times over the past two months in order to appear before the Council to plead his case, to explain to the Elders that his single status would not keep him from being a good father to the five-year-old twin brothers, Jared and Josh. And just when he thought the boys would be his, he was being presented with yet another obstacle, yet another mountain to climb. He couldn’t help but worry how high and steep this one might turn out to be.
“Dr. Westcott,” a second member of the Council of six men and women spoke up, “maybe we shouldn’t say ‘catch.’ The word has such an underhanded connotation attached to it. What we should say is stipulation. And please know that this…condition was decided upon with our best intentions and the boys’ best interests in mind, we assure you.”
“The boys’ best interests were all that ever concerned me.” Irritation tinged his quiet tone, cloaking Travis’s fear of disappointment. Becoming the twins’ father had become so important to him. More important than he’d ever imagined.
“If this has something to do with the fact that I’m not married,” he said. “I’ve already explained—”
“No.” The first Elder shook her head.
Travis couldn’t believe that the state and federal governments of the United States had no say in this matter. But he’d learned that the Kolheek were totally in control of who did or did not adopt the orphans from their small tribe. The Council had complete authority in the matter.
“This has nothing to do with the fact that you cannot provide the boys with a mother.”
Guilt swept through him when he heard the situation voiced in those terms. He’d thought he could give the boys everything they needed by way of a parent. Resolve made his spine straighten. He could give Jared and Josh all they needed. He was certain of it. And if this catch, this stipulation, they were suddenly presenting him with, didn’t have to do with his marital status, then the Council, too, thought he could give the boys all they needed.
Then what? he wondered. What was this condition they were hinting at?
Patience, he silently chided. If he’d learned nothing else over the months of dealing with the Native Americans, he’d learned that they revealed their thoughts, plans and opinions in their own good time. No matter what kind of hurry or rush anyone else might be in.
“You’ve made your arguments,” the elderly woman said. “You’ve convinced us that you will love the boys. Provide for them. And the fact that you are half Kolheek only served to help your cause. You showed us just how much you cared by seeing to it that the boys were provided with the medical attention they needed two years ago. Their heart conditions might have killed them were it not for your intervention, Dr. Westcott. We know all these things.”
The second Council Elder continued, “The boys will be six soon. And you know that with each day, each week, each month that passes, their chances of being adopted diminish. It is a sad but true fact that couples want to adopt impressionable babies, not adolescents already on their way to being grown. We want you to adopt Jared and Josh. We believe the three of you will make a happy family. If we didn’t, you wouldn’t be here today.”
“Then what is it?” Travis leveled a steady gaze on the group, his impatience thinly, if at all, veiled. “What’s the catch?”
Attempting to intimidate the Elders was futile. It was apparent that these people had lived long, full lives. They had endured hardships, pain and sorrow the likes of which he would never know. They had experienced happiness, laughter and tranquillity. These six men and women were the dignitaries of their tribe. Only the oldest and wisest could sit on the Council. Their vast life experiences showed in their proud faces. In the set of their shoulders. In the unmistakably enlightened glints of their dark, deep-set eyes.
“There is no easy way to present the problem we see,” the woman told him. “We find it disturbing to know that you will be taking the twins far from the reservation. Far from their home. Far from The People.”
Travis frowned, finding her words quite alarming. “But you knew from the beginning that I lived in Pennsylvania. You don’t expect me to move here to Vermont? Here to the reservation? I have a medical practice in Philadelphia…”
She shook her head in silent answer, somewhat calming his rising panic. “But we are concerned that the boys will lose touch with their heritage. Their past. Their ancestors.” Her voice grew soft and gentle as she added, “Dr. Westcott, you are ignorant in the ways of The People.”
Although he realized that the woman tried to relay her concern without insulting him, he bristled at what felt like an ugly criticism. Ignorant was not a word that would normally describe him. He was a successful physician. Co-author of a textbook widely used by medical colleges all over the world. He was a sought-after speaker at conventions and seminars. Because of his dogged determination and his knowledge of the workings of the human body, he’d saved lives. As these facts rolled through his head, Travis knew he wasn’t being conceited. He was simply being honest about himself and his accomplishments.
However, if he were to continue being honest, he’d have to concede to the Council woman’s criticism. For her observation was true. He knew nothing of his Native American heritage.
His mother, a full-blooded Kolheek, had left the reservation as a teenager when she’d married his father. She had never returned. She had gladly adopted her husband’s culture, his religion, his whole way of life. And she had never attempted to reveal anything about her Indian background to her two sons. Even after her bitter divorce, Lila Westcott had never returned to the reservation. Travis had grown up thinking of himself as nothing more than a…proud American.
“I love those boys.” He silently thanked heaven that his voice didn’t break with the tremendous emotion welling inside him. The idea that he could lose the chance to be their father distressed him mightily.
He wasn’t used to making himself vulnerable to others, but at this moment he felt it was necessary. He could think of no other response to the woman’s accusation. He did love Jared and Josh. And he planned to be the best father he could be. He wanted to give them everything. But how could he give them something he didn’t have? He couldn’t offer the boys knowledge of the past when he didn’t know it himself. He couldn’t furnish them with the wisdom of a culture of which he was unfamiliar.
The old woman’s eyes softened in her wrinkled face. “We don’t doubt your deep affection for the children, Dr. Westcott. We know you will feed and clothe them. We know you’ll provide them with a safe home, a good education. With tremendous emotional support.” She inhaled, her chin lifting a fraction. “But we feel they need more.”
“Due to their medical condition, they have lived in a state orphanage,” the second Council member added. “Like you, they know little to nothing of their heritage, of the Kolheek ways. They need a link to their past. And we’ve found just the person who can give them that. Our Medicine Woman.”
