Dawn Bird

His three adult children surround his death bed. His eyes are closed however on each breath they tighten from the pain that he suffers. His eyes open wide and with them he summons his eldest child Martha. She steps close, leans to hear his struggled whisper. “It is in the safe and it must stay in the family so that the family will always stay a family.” He inhales deep then exhales. “Dad is gone,” Martha says. Thelma weeps. “What was that about a safe?” Thomas asks. Martha’s glares stop his inquiry.

           In a cemetery, at the grave site. The siblings with their spouses and grown children, family members and friends listen to the reverend words of comfort and final rest for their father as the casket is lowered next to their deceased mother’s casket of final rest. Afterwards, the gathering disperses.

           “Did the lawyer set a date and time to read dad’s will?” Thomas asks.

           “Tomorrow and just us three will be there at his office at eleven,” Martha says.

           At the attorney’s office the siblings learnt after he had read their father’s will to them that each will share his wealth. It is also then that they learnt of a safe kept secret from the known safe. “that the patch will found in the safe.”

           Thomas interrupts. “We never heard of or seen this safe let alone the combination to open it.”

           “The combination and location of the safe will be given to the eldest child, Martha. What is in the safe shall always stay with the family. It shall never leave the family possession and that is the stipulation of the will,” Attorney says.

           “Will we lose our wealth?” Thomas asks.

           “Oh, shut up,” Martha says.

           “That was not indicated,” Attorney says.    

A patch in a small glass jar, its top screwed tight is the only item in a desk safe that the siblings never knew existed. Martha takes it out. She and Thelma look inside it at a two-inch square piece of wool, decorated with needlework, three tiny circles colored from left to right black, white, yellow.

           “It looks wool,” Thelma says.

           “Yes, it does,” Martha says.

           “Open the jar,” Thomas says.

           “No. The top looks like it been closed tight for years,” Martha says.

           “Maybe it’s like that for a purpose,” Thelma says.

           “Doesn’t seem to be worth anything,” Thomas says.

           “Maybe not money but it may have other value or dad would not have mention it during his last breath,” Martha says.

           “It looks like junk to me,” Thomas says.

           Both sisters stare at their brother to message their disgust with him.

           “Dad told me that it should stay in the family so that there would be always a family,” Martha says.

           “So, if it is tossed in the trash something evil will be bestowed upon us,” Thomas says.

           “Maybe, maybe not but dad wants us to keep in the family; those were his last words,” Thelma says.

           “Yes, his last words on this earth,” Martha says.

           “Maybe we could have it researched to find out the reason dad said that,” Thelma says.

           “What?” Thomas asks.

           “What do you mean?” Martha asks.

           “Well, I heard about groups of scholars who like to research old documents and artifacts to find out things about them,” Thelma says.

           “You mean those people who looks up a family tree’s past,” Thomas says.

           “This would be totally different like I said objects not people,” Thelma says.

           “Well, I mention it because our oldest ancestor came to this country from Scotland and that is all we know about him,” Thomas says.

           “Do you know how to get in touch with one of these scholars or group of them?” Martha asks.    

           “Good grief,” Thomas says.

           Martha snaps. “Oh, shut up Thomas, you don’t have to have anything to do with it.” 

           Thomas stands up. “If it has anything to do with money just don’t bother me,” he says. He struts towards the room’s door.

           “We just want to know why dad was so determine to keep it in the family,” Martha says.

           “So long as you spend your own money,” Thomas says. He leaves the room.

           “You think that it will cost much?” Martha asks.

           “I think they just ask for their travel expense,” Thelma says.    

The scholar introduces herself as Beverly, “but you can call me Bev.” The sisters lead her to a nook of the house. They make themselves comfortable. Martha tells her the events that took place since the words of her father on his death bed to finding the artifact in the jar. Thelma mentions their ancestor from Scotland.

           “May I see the artifact?” Bev asks.

           “Yes of course,” Martha says. She takes the jar from a trouser pocket, hands it to Bev. She studies it then says, “it looks like Native American embroidery.”  

           “You mean Indians?” Thelma asks.

           “Yes,” Bev says.

           The sisters look at each other, puzzled. They heard that their Scottish ancestor crossed the Atlantic with a wife and son. Martha tells Bev.

           “Well, I’ll research it,” Bev says.

           “Yes, of course,” Martha says.

           “Now may I take the artifact with me to begin my research?” Bev asks.

           “Yes of course and how long will it be,” Martha says.

           “Generally, it takes from six weeks to six months,” Bev says.

Eight weeks later.

           The sisters and Bev sit in the nook.

           “Now what was discovered about your patch came from government records, libraries, your distance family members and an elderly Native American’s recollections of history told to her by her ancestors,” Bev says. “Your Scottish ancestor arrived in this country and settled in Pennsylvania and worked in the oil fields until he was able to afford to go to California which was his original reason for coming to the U S. He purchased a Conestoga wagon and four mules and supplies and with his wife and daughter he left behind his two sons and their families. During their travel when passing through a city they would mail their progress to their sons. In Springfield Missouri they joined a wagon train to travel through what is now Oklahoma but then was called Indian territory and considered a dangerous attempt. Along the trail he and his wife were killed during a raid and their daughter taken prisoner. Now at their camp there were an offspring of a former Negro slave who had escaped from his masters. No one in the camp wanted to claim the daughter so he did, and they became a couple, even though he was twice her age. She was fourteen at the time. Now we’ll skip twelve years and the family lived on a reservation and during that period the government attempted to eradicate the Native American population by taking their children away from them and putting them in boarding schools to change their ancestral behavior. Knowing this the parents devised means for the children not to forget their families. A thing to say that they would always be family, hence the patch. The black circle father and the white circle mother and the yellow circle her, the daughter and her name Dawn Bird and the school changed it to Eloise.”

           “Our great-great grandmother Eloise in our family album,” Thelma says.   

           “The caretakers at the school looked for these things so to take away from the children and many they found then destroyed and a few they did not find. When she was adopted, she hid it and when she married, she hid it. But she married a good and understanding man and with him she visited her parents. Afterwards they stayed in touch constantly until their death in which Dawn Bird had placed presentable stones at their graves. The patch is spiritual to keep the family together. It must be placed in the same way and manner that you found it. The last living sibling must pass it on in the family.” Bev says.

           “I will continue what dad wanted us to do and with its history,” Martha says.

           “We have Scottish and African American blood line,” Thelma says.

           “Yes, but it is through his blood line the reason we exist,” Martha says.