by Pamela Clare
He laughed, a deep, sensual sound, his left hand sliding over the bare curve of her abdomen. "Do you think your big belly gave us away?"
"No, silly goat!" She laughed. "I think you make too much noise."
"Me?" He chuckled. "I hate to break it to you, rez girl, but you're the noisy one."
Because Kat was afraid Gabe might be right, she didn't challenge him, instead picking up where they'd left off when her description of Navajo constellations had somehow led to sex under the stars. She pointed to the star that never moved and the four little stars around it. "That is what we call Nahookos Biko'"
Gabe repeated the Navajo words. "That means... northern fire?"
"Very good." Kat was happy that he was learning the Dine language so quickly. "To us, it looks like the fire in the center of the hogaan. Nahookos Bika'ii, Northern Male, and Nahookos Bi'aadii, Northern Female, circle around it. To us they represent the family in their home. We believe all things revolve around the family and the hogaan."
She felt the baby move, pressing its heel or elbow against the place where Gabe's hand rested. He gently rubbed the spot, his fingers warm on her skin, then chuckled when the baby nudged again. "It's crowded in there now, isn't it, little one?"
He'd been fascinated with her changing body and the growing baby from the day they'd found out she was pregnant last December. Even when he'd been in rehabilitation learning to walk with his prosthetic leg, he'd pampered her, doing everything he could to make her more comfortable during the ten long weeks of morning sickness, his love--and his sense of humor--never flagging.
"Look at us," he'd said one morning after she'd been very sick and pain had kept him awake most of the night. "We're the eighth and ninth dwarves--Gimpy and Barfy."
Some men might have grown bitter or demoralized after losing a limb, but not Gabe. He'd faced all of it--the physical pain, his temporary limitations, learning to walk again--with courage that had left Kat feeling humbled and even more in love with him than she'd been before, if such a thing were possible.
"I suppose if I'd lost my leg in a stupid climbing accident, I might be angry," he'd said one night as the two of them lay together in bed. "But I know why it's gone. That night, I'd have given anything to keep you safe. Half a leg is not too high a price to pay for the woman I love."
The loss of his leg--and the circumstances under which he'd fallen--had made him an instant celebrity in the climbing world. People's fascination with him had grown when, six weeks after losing his leg and almost dying, he was climbing again, using only his arms and one leg to scale several tough routes in the rock gym while people watched and cheered. The sight of him doing what he loved had brought tears to Kat's eyes, and she'd found herself cheering as loudly as everyone else when he triumphantly reached the top, a smile on his handsome face.
And almost overnight he'd found himself in the position of being a role model for others who'd lost limbs. When a company that manufactured cutting-edge prosthetic legs asked him to come to work for them field-testing legs they designed for elite athletes, he had agreed to take the job, provided he could work it around trips with Kat to the reservation and the needs of the new baby.
"My family is my priority," he'd told them.
They'd agreed.
So now he got paid to have fun, rock climbing, alpine climbing, ice climbing, skiing, even rafting to test-drive various prosthetic designs. Together with the volunteer rescue work he did for Boulder Mountain Parks, he led a very full and active life, every bit the athlete--and the man--that he'd always been.
Kat knew he was as excited as she was to meet their baby. Although her due date was still nine days away, the midwife in Tuba City had told them last week that the baby could come at any time. And Kat was ready.
She was ready to experience the mystery of becoming a mother, to know what it felt like to bring life into the world, to meet the little person she and Gabe had made together. She knew giving birth would be different than anything she'd experienced so far. She'd been with Sophie when Sophie had given birth at home to little Addy and had seen the reality of birth--the hard work, the pain, the blood. Still, she was eager for it.
That's why she'd come home--to have a baby. Kat wanted to give birth on the reservation so that she could have both Gabe and her grandmother by her side--and so that there would be no doubt that her child was a member of the Navajo Nation. She and Gabe had left Denver two weeks ago, wanting to make sure she would have time to meet the midwives who would be with her during the birth. So far it had been like a honeymoon--one that included her extended family.
Of course, this wasn't the first time Gabe had been to K'ai'bii'to. They'd come in March to introduce Gabe to her family, to help with shearing the sheep and so that Uncle Ray could sing a Blessing Way for her and the baby. Then they'd come again in May to help with the planting of the corn. Gabe had gotten to see her grandmother's dead-crow-on-the-fence ritual for himself.
"Remind me not to mess with Grandma's corn," he'd whispered in Kat's ear.
But Kat's grandmother adored Gabe. The two of them had a teasing relationship that relied on a mix of English and Navajo words--Nav--lish Kat called it--for communication.
Kat's nieces and nephews loved him, too. The smaller children were fascinated by his prosthetic leg, while the older ones seemed to be in awe of him because they understood how he'd gotten it. Only Kat's mother and her brothers and sisters had given him the cold shoulder, but he hadn't taken it personally. He'd seemed more upset by the way they'd treated her than how they'd treated him.
"It's not your fault your mom fooled around, for God's sake!" he'd said one morning after Kat's mother had pointed to Kat's belly and told her that her baby wouldn't really be Dine. "You're family, and that ought to be enough for all of them!"
That afternoon, her grandmother had sent Kat and Gabe on an overnight errand to Tuba City and had sat everyone else down inside the hogaan, making them listen while she'd told them in detail what Kat and Gabe had endured to protect Mesa Butte.
"If any one of you still wants to treat Kat and her man as if they are strangers, then I think that person is out of balance and sick in the heart," she'd told the family. "I wouldn't want that sickness here in my home."
Kat had only learned what had happened when she and Gabe returned the next morning to find her mother gone. But after that night, Kat's brothers and sisters had begun to treat both her and Gabe with respect and even kindness. As much as it had hurt to think her mother still didn't care about her, she was enjoying getting to know her brothers and sisters. She and Gabe would be staying until they could hold a First Laugh ceremony for the baby, so she hoped to build strong friendships with them.
"Over there, you can see the two stars we call Hastiin Sik'ai'i." She pointed to the western horizon. "That means 'Squatting Man.' He represents ..."
She felt her womb tighten and heard--or felt--something go pop. And warm water trickled out from between her legs. "I ... I think my water just broke."
"Well, the midwife said sex often induces labor. I guess she was right." Gabe kissed her cheek, then sat up and hopped down from the truck, reaching for her and lifting her gently to the ground, his gaze dropping to the small puddle that formed in the sand at her feet. "Honey, I think you're about to have a baby."
GABE WAS IN awe. His rez girl was pulling this off without breaking a sweat. His arm behind her shoulders, he raised her into a squatting position on the birthing bed as the next contraction began. She grabbed on to her woolen sash belt, which hung from the ceiling, and exhaled softly, her breath barely catching as she pushed.
"Strength, strength," Grandma Alice whispered in Dine.
When the contraction was over, Kat let go of the sash belt, and Gabe eased her back into a reclining position again.
"You're doing so well, honey. Not long now." He bent down and kissed her forehead, taking her hand in his, whispering in her ear. "I love you."
Whether she heard him, he couldn't say. Her eyes we
re closed, her face as relaxed as if she were asleep.
"Nature's anesthesia," the midwife whispered.
Kat had dilated to ten in less than seven hours, and although it had been back labor all the way, she'd stayed unbelievably calm, singing softly to herself and talking reassuringly to the baby in Dine, while Gabe held her hand and Grandma made sure she drank plenty of tea. Still, as quiet and peaceful as her labor had been, he'd known she was feeling intense pain from the way she'd almost crushed his fingers with each contraction. And although he knew women had been having babies for as long as there'd been men on the planet, he wished it were easier.
She'd wanted as traditional a birth as possible, and other than Gabe's absolute refusal to let her give birth in her grandmother's hogaan--Tuba City was a long hour's drive over rutted dirt roads--that's what she was getting. They'd had a small ceremony before she'd come into the birthing room, during which her Uncle Ray had sung the "Singing Out Baby" chant. The bed faced east, so the baby would be born facing the right way. Kat wasn't wearing a hospital gown, but an old T-shirt and a blue cotton skirt, which she'd pulled up around her hips. And the Indian Health Service midwife had mostly stayed out of the way, checking Kat's progress only twice and monitoring the baby's heartbeat with a handheld Doppler every so often.
Another contraction came, and another, and another.
And Gabe wished it would be over so that Kat's pain would end. It boggled his mind to think an entire baby had to pass through a part of her body that was so tight--and so exquisitely sensitive. He could only imagine how much it hurt.
Then on the next contraction Gabe saw--a tiny glimpse of the baby's head. And for the first time it really hit him that he was about to become a father. His pulse skipped, and he couldn't help but smile. "I can see the baby's head, Kat. It has lots of dark hair."
Kat met his gaze. "D-dark hair?"
He nodded. "Yep."
A few pushes later, and the baby's head began to crown.
Kat moaned, squeezed her eyes shut, her knuckles white as she clung to the sash belt. "Oh, it hurts so much!"
Without even thinking, Gabe wrapped an arm around her shoulders to steady her, then pried one of her hands off the sash belt and pressed it against the baby's head so that she could at least feel what he was seeing--the birth of their first child.
Her eyes flew wide, and she looked down, seeming to forget her pain as the baby's head slowly emerged, its tiny face looking up at them, its eyes still closed.
"Let me just check for a cord." The midwife felt with gloved fingers around the baby's neck. "No cord. Go ahead and catch your baby."
Kat laughed and met Gabe's gaze, tears shimmering in her eyes, a look of wonder on her sweet face. Then they both watched in amazement as their baby slipped in a liquid rush out of her body and into their waiting hands. Going on instinct, Gabe lifted the slippery-wet baby into Kat's arms, then eased her back onto the pillows.
Tears streamed down Kat's cheeks, the baby cradled in her arms. "Shi-yazhi! Shi-yazhi! Shi-yazhi!"
My little one! My little one! My little one!
The baby gave a little cough, then a little cry, its skin flushing pink.
Grandma was the first to check, lifting one of the baby's legs, then chuckling.
"It's a girl." Kat smiled at Gabe, her face radiating pure joy.
Speechless, Gabe leaned down and looked into the open eyes of his newborn daughter, his heart swelling until it seemed there was no more room inside his chest.
He had a daughter. He and Kat had a baby girl.
It wasn't until Grandma reached up and wiped his cheek with her thumb that he realized he was crying, too.
THEY MADE THE drive back to K'ai'bii'to when little Alissa Gabrielle, whom Kat had named after Grandma Alice and Gabe, was three days old. Still more than a little sore, Kat carried the baby, while Gabe walked beside her, carrying the diaper bag and car seat. Grandma Alice met them at the door, welcoming them home with a smile and hurrying to make juniper ash tea for Kat.
While Gabe carried in wood, Kat sat in the rocking chair near the wood stove and nursed, her breasts aching with milk, her gaze fixed on the tiny baby who looked up at her through unfocused eyes. She'd never known that the human heart could love this much or feel so much happiness. It amazed her to think that Alissa, so perfect, so precious, had grown inside her body. From her ten tiny toes to her dark downy hair, she was a gift--a gift she and Gabe had given to each other. Kat could see both of them in Alissa's delicate face, their blood mixed together in their child.
Giving birth had been harder and more painful than Kat had imagined, but she'd never felt more loved, more cherished, than during those long hours with Gabe and her grandmother beside her, supporting her, holding her hand, helping her get from one moment to the next. Gabe must have told her he loved her a thousand times, his strength never flagging, his voice holding her together.
At the height of her labor when the pain had been most intense, Kat had been amazed to think that her grandmother had gone through this twelve times, several times giving birth alone in the shade of a pinon pine. The thought had comforted her, making her feel connected to the female ancestors of her clan in a way she hadn't before, the timelessness of the act of birthing a bond between her and all women who'd come before her. And even though she could still vividly remember the pain--did anyone really believe that women forgot?--she was already excited to know there would be more babies as precious and beautiful as Alissa.
Kat had just finished nursing when Grandma walked up to her holding a carryout box in one hand and a hand trowel in the other. "Come. It's time."
Alissa still in her arms, Kat stood and followed Grandma Alice out the door, calling for Gabe, who was now splitting wood, to follow them. The sun was beginning to set, washing the mesas and scrub forest in tones of gold and orange, the wind just beginning to pick up, the scent of desert autumn in the air.
Grandma led them over to the sheep corral, then handed Gabe the carryout box, gesturing for him to open it. Kat fought not to laugh at the expression on his face as he glanced inside.
He met her gaze, looking perplexed. "It's the... afterbirth."
Kat nodded, unable hold back a smile. "Were you hoping for Chinese takeout?"
Then Grandma knelt down and began to dig, speaking in Dine, Kat acting as interpreter. "We Dine bury the afterbirth of our children in the land near our homes because we know that the cord which bound us to our mother for nine months will bind us to the land for the rest of our lives. My mother buried my cord here on this homesite, as her mother buried hers and I buried Kat's."
Grandma reached out and took the nearly dried afterbirth into her hands and began to bury it in the red earth, saying Alissa's Dine name--Shandiin Hozhoni, which meant "Beautiful light that breaks through the clouds."
A lump formed in Kat's throat, the ritual meaning more to her than she'd realized it would. But then Grandma spoke again.
Her throat tight, Kat translated. "Grandma says this cord now becomes Alissa's deep root with the land and that no matter where she goes in her life, K'ai'bii'to will be her home, as it has been the home of the women of this family all the way back to the days when we returned from the Long Walk." Kat paused to listen to Grandma Alice speak, then repeated her words in English once more, tears blurring her vision. "She says that she doesn't know what happened to your cord when you were born, but that there is some of you in Alissa's cord. This means that you have deep roots here now and that K'ai'bii'to is your home, too. She hopes you will remember this and know that the door to her hogaan will always be open to you."
Grandma patted the red soil into place with gnarled hands, the placenta and umbilical cord now buried. She stood and looked up at Gabe, patting his arm. "You--Blue-Eyed Navajo."
Then she walked away, leaving the three of them--Kat, Gabe, and the baby--alone together.
Gabe wiped the tears from Kat's cheeks with this thumb. "I think that means she doesn't want me to keep the two of
you in Colorado for too long at any one stretch."
Kat laughed. He hadn't understood at all. "What she was trying to say is that she loves you, that you're like a grandson to her."
Gabe glanced over at Grandma Alice, a muscle tightening in his jaw, a telltale sheen in his eyes. Then he met Kat's gaze, the love he felt for her there on his face for her to see. "A year ago, if you'd told me I'd have a wife and a new baby girl, I'd have laughed in your face. But now I can't imagine living a moment of my life without you. You're the best thing that ever happened to me, Katherine James Rossiter, and I will spend every day until I die loving you."
Cradling the baby between them, Kat rested her cheek against his chest, his heartbeat strong, as strong as the sun-scorched earth beneath her feet. "I could say the same about you. If not for you, neither Alissa nor I would be here today. You gave up your life for mine, and there's not a day that goes by that I don't remember that. You're everything to me, Gabe. Ayor anosh'ni."
Then the wind picked up, sand swirling at their feet, the last rays of sunlight stretching rosy fingers across the sky. Somewhere in the distance a lone coyote howled, as if to say that all was right with the world. And Kat knew in her heart that it was.
"Let's get you inside by the fire." Gabe wrapped his arm around Kat's shoulder and together they walked west toward the welcoming warmth of the hogaan--and the rest of their lives.
Keep reading for a special preview of Pamela Clare's next I-Team novel.Coming soon from Berkley Sensation!
ZAC TOOK HIS arm from around Natalie's shoulders, unlocked the door to their hotel room, and drew out his Glock, motioning for her to stand just inside the door. He quickly cleared the room, checking beneath the bed and behind the shower curtain, then nodded to her that all was well.
She set down his gear bag, shut the door, locked it, and slipped the door guard into place. Then she took a few steps backward and sat on the bed, once again motionless, her gaze fixed on the door as if she expected all the demons in hell to charge through it any minute now. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, her face pale, a haunted look in her eyes.