Past the leaves and spreading limbs, Nikki surveyed a few puffy clouds, ever changing their shape as they drifted slowly through the heavens. Even as a child, she’d loved to watch them, to see what shapes they would assume from one minute to the next—first a dragon, then a clown face, a feather, a castle, a dog begging for a treat.
How long she sat, pleasantly absorbed in this serene activity, she didn’t know. The change came so gradually that she didn’t realize it was happening until she found herself caught up in the midst of it. In a way, it was similar to a daydream, for on some level she was still perfectly aware of all that was going on around her. Yet, at the same time, she was being drawn into a kind of illusion. It wove itself around her like one of those surround-screen productions with multi-audio and visual capabilities or a virtual reality experience.
Yes, it was like viewing a movie, even while you became a part of it. She watched in awe as she saw herself, or at least an image of herself, strolling along the riverbank. Then, as often happens in dreams, she found herself transformed into a goose. So real did it seem, that she could feel herself fluff her wings—or the goose fluff hers. When the goose waddled down to the bank and slid into the river, Nikki could feel the coolness of the water, the way it slid smoothly along her lower body as she paddled around. The sun was warm, the water sparkling. Every so often, the goose would duck her head beneath the surface to pluck at weeds and vegetation, her dinner.
Suddenly, as a cloud obscured the sun for a mere moment, a squirrel set up a racket in a nearby tree, chirping madly. The goose stiffened and jerked her head around as if searching for danger. A menacing shadow swept the earth. With a squawk, the goose hurried from the water. Not nearly as graceful on land, she half-hobbled, half-flapped her way toward a clump of bushes a short distance away. The shadow, now identifiable as that of a large, predatory bird, swirled silently overhead. All the while, the squirrel sounded the alarm, dashing excitedly from tree to tree, from limb to limb, seeming to scream, “Run and hide! Run and hide!”
The branches of the bush, though laden with long, sharp thorns, parted easily for the goose, closing behind her to encase her in their protective cover. Nikki—the goose— hastily flung herself over her nest and the four eggs within it, one of which was already crazed, showing signs that the gosling within would soon make his entrance into the world. Lying there, hissing softly, quivering violently, the adult female was fully prepared to forfeit her own life in the defense of her young.
The hawk dived downward, taking aim on the bush where the goose hid. His big body, talons extended, brushed the upper leaves as he swooped by, but the thorns held him at bay. Twice more he arced from the sky, and twice more he was pricked and thwarted in his attempt to reach the nest. Meanwhile, the feisty squirrel darted to and fro, creating considerable racket and distraction. On his last pass, again failing to gain entrance past the thorns the frustrated hawk turned his attack on the squirrel, but the furry little animal nimbly escaped by circling the tree trunk and darting into a small hollow. Finally, the hawk gave up and flew away.
Even as the vision faded, Nikki felt shaken, as if she along with the goose—or perhaps in her place—had just had a very narrow escape. Her breathing was harsh and erratic, her pulse racing, her skin clammy despite the heat of the day.
“Oh, wow!” she exclaimed softly. “What a trip! If those Hollywood producers could find a way to recreate something as real as this for mass audiences, they’d be dancing on air!”
No longer relaxed, Nikki figured she was not receptive to further visions. Rising, she went in search of her husband. He met her at the edge of the meadow. Extending his hand to her, he said, “Come. You can reveal your vision to me as we walk.”
“How do you know I even had one?” she inquired.
His silver eyes glinted knowingly. “Tell me what you saw.”
She related everything she’d seen, and everything she’d felt. “I think I was the goose,” she said at the end of her tale. “I have no idea who the hawk or the squirrel were supposed to be. Do you?”
“The squirrel spoke to you, warning you of danger. He is your spirit guide.”
Nikki arched an eyebrow at him. “That itsy-bitsy animal? How is it that you get a big bad lynx and I get a measly squirrel?”
Silver Thorn shrugged and grinned. “Perhaps because you already have me to protect you. I was the thorn bush in which you and our children hid. The squirrel warned you and tried to lure the danger away. I shielded you from harm.”
“And the eggs were our children?” she queried.
Silver Thorn nodded.
“Uh . . . is there any significance to the fact that there were four eggs in the nest?”
Again he nodded.
She nudged him with her elbow. “Hey! Don’t clam up on me now, old chum. Explain.”
“I would interpret that to mean that you and I will have four children.”
“Not all at once, I hope!” she exclaimed, wide-eyed. “Triplets like you and your brothers would be enough of a handful, but four?”
“If you have related it correctly, only one of the eggs was preparing to hatch. Therefore, 1 would assume that a single child will be born first. Our son. For the rest, I cannot determine.”
“Okay, I’ll buy that for now.”
Suddenly she remembered something that she’d almost missed seeing in her dream. “I just recalled something strange. As I was hiding in the bush, covering the nest, I looked up and saw the hawk circling overhead, preparing to dive. But that’s not all. Beyond him, I saw tall buildings in the background, like those in a city.”
At this, Silver Thorn frowned. “You are certain? It was not just clouds you saw? Or hills?”
Nikki shook her head. “They were buildings, of steel and concrete, just like back home. What do you suppose that means?”
“I must think on this,” he admitted, “for it is not clear to me at this time.”
“And the hawk?” she pressed. “Is this a particular enemy or simply representative of any and all peril?”
“My impression is that he signifies all danger which might arise in the future.”
“What about my other dream? The one I had in the sweat lodge? Does it mean anything?”
“In it, you were the rose, and I the thorn. The sage, the other plant in your dream, was our firstborn son.”
“And the butterfly? Don’t tell me that flighty little thing, which couldn’t harm a flea, is supposed to be another one of my spirit guides.”
He laughed. “No, Neeake, but it is your special symbol—your charm, if you will—meant to bring peace and beauty into your life. It also represents the changes you will encounter along life’s path. The rose, too, is your personal emblem.”
“Wait a minute. I’m getting confused. In both dreams you were the thorn, while it would have made more sense if you were a gander in the last one. After all, whoever heard of a goose mating with a thorn? Moreover, I was a goose in one vision and a rose in the other. I don’t understand.”
“We are not meant to immediately understand everything shown to us. Often, certain portions of our dreams become clear to us only as time passes,” he explained. “Perhaps the goose embodies the devoted mate and the maternal part of you, while the rose denotes the delicate, lovely, feminine person you are.”
“Delicate? Me?” she scoffed. “Darling, that’s sweet of you, but your interpretation is way off base. There is nothing dainty about me, and probably never will be. But I’m glad that you consider me lovely, in spite of it.”
He didn’t argue with her assessment, but merely shook his head and said, “One day you will see yourself as I and others do. Until then, nothing I can say will convince you otherwise.”
They returned to the sweat lodge. Silver Thorn had explained to her that it was customary to sweat both before and afterward. “I can’t say I’m looking forward to a second round of this,” she told him. “I’m already hot and sweaty. Besides, I’m getting cranky, probably b
ecause I haven’t eaten much.”
“The time will pass quickly,” he assured her. “By then Konah will have our meal prepared and you can eat your fill.”
“Konah is fixing our supper?” Nikki commented. “How nice of her, of you, to think of it.”
“I am a very thoughtful husband,” he replied smugly. “For which I expect just reward from my appreciative mate.”
“I’m sure.” Nikki chuckled. “You’re also modest to a fault, my dear.”
Silver Thorn sprinkled fresh herbs and water on the hot rocks. Steam billowed up in fragrant clouds. “No one will disturb us,” he assured her. “It is quite safe for you to remove your shirt if you wish.” So saying, he removed and discarded his loincloth before seating himself next to her, cross-legged and unconcernedly nude. Nikki, feeling decidedly overdressed for the occasion, shrugged out of her T-shirt.
Within minutes, she was feeling lethargic, almost as if she’d been drugged. Pearls of perspiration misted her flesh. Through heavy lids, she noted that Silver Thorn’s bronze flesh had taken on a similar sheen. A languorous desire stole through her, heating her in an altogether different way. That Silver Thorn was responding in a similar manner was clear by the molten gleam in his eyes, making them shimmer like mercury—not to mention his bold erection, which he took no steps to hide.
Rather, he reached a finger out to trace a droplet of moisture as it tracked across her breast. Her nipple peaked, begging his attention. He answered the silent call, leaning forward to lap at the dimpled crest with his tongue.
Fire streaked through her. “Should we be doing this?” she asked on a moan. “I mean, is it proper? Here? Now?”
“The ritual is complete. We may do as we please,” he answered in a passion-roughened voice. “Just now, it pleases me to please you.”
“Likewise, I’m sure,” she breathed huskily. Then his mouth closed over her breast, and she could speak no more.
Still suckling, he pressed forward, urging her onto her back. Her arms drifted upward, her fingers twining through his midnight hair, anchoring his head to her. Her back arched as she offered herself more fully into his embrace.
He took his time, laving her breast thoroughly before ministering equally to its twin—lapping the dew from the pert peaks, the pearlescent mounds, the velvety undersides, the valley between them. His hands glided lovingly over her torso as if relearning every curve, every bend and dip. He cupped one breast in his palm, studying its form, testing the texture and malleability with tongue and sweat-slick fingers.
“So soft,” he murmured. “So sleek. Like moist clay ready to be molded by a potter’s hand.”
“Yes,” she answered in a whisper. “By your hand.” Her own hands sought his shoulders, measuring their breadth, then slipped to his chest, revelling in the contour of taut muscle overlying bone. She inhaled deeply, drinking in his musky, male scent. “If I were a master sculptor and tried for a hundred years, I could not hope to duplicate your magnificent masculine beauty. So hard, so finely honed, so flawlessly fashioned.”
They adored one another with their eyes, their mouths, their hands—stroking each other to the pinnacle of passion, twining and twisting like two slippery otters. As he slid into her tight, slick warmth, he groaned at the pleasure. She fit him so perfectly, held him so firmly.
Nikki arched to meet him, welcoming his fierce thrusts. He filled her so completely, and yet she clung to him, craving more. Her head thrown back, teeth gritted, her nails clawing at his back, she whimpered helplessly, “If I live forever, I’ll never get enough of you.”
As if taking her words literally, he braced her hips in his hands, lifting her, laying her legs over his shoulders— driving into her more deeply, powerfully, as if to stamp his indelible mark on her innermost being—branding her heart, soul, and body with his. Pushed over the edge, they joined in a shattering all-consuming climax. Their glad cries reverberated in the sultry air, dwindling into soft sighs in the enveloping mist.
Lying sheltered in his loving arms, replete and secure, Nikki suddenly shivered. Out of nowhere came a terrible fear that their love was too perfect, too wonderful, and that something awful was bound to happen—something destined to part them. So strong, so frightening was this feeling that she cried out aloud, “No!”
Silver Thorn was alarmed, especially when he noted how pale her face had turned. “What is wrong?” he demanded.
She shivered again and clutched him tightly to her in an attempt to regain that warm sense of security. “It was probably nothing,” she claimed, denying the lingering fear. “My grandmother would say that a goose just walked across my grave, I guess. It gave me the willies, that’s all. An unreasonable sensation of dread, as if something bad is going to happen to destroy our happiness.”
He held her near, raising her face to his. “Rest assured, my dearest heart, that I will quell any and all peril that might threaten our life together,” he pledged somberly. “Nothing but death will ever come between us, and even then I will find a means to be with you.”
Chapter Nineteen
A month went by with nothing calamitous occurring, and Nikki began to breathe easier. She chalked her strange feeling of pending disaster up to the after-effects of the sweating. “Too much steam on the brain,” she joked.
The only other consequence was that her visit to the sweat lodge seemed to have precipitated frequent bouts of morning sickness. Nikki calculated that she’d now missed two full menstrual periods, this being the first of August, and if she truly had conceived that first time she and Silver Thorn had made love, she was two months along in her pregnancy. Surprisingly, though her breasts were tender and brimming over the cups of her bra, she now had to fasten her bra on the inner hooks. Before, she’d always had to use the outer hooks or the lower band was simply too binding against her ribcage. Even her panties seemed awfully loose, though the elastic in the waist didn’t appear to be losing its stretch.
Curious about this oddity, Nikki dug out her jeans and tried them on. Much to her wonder, they were so loose they barely stayed up, hanging low on her hips. The waist was at least two inches too large, and the legs and rear sections bagged terribly, rather than fitting snugly the way they used to.
It took a few seconds for the pieces of the puzzle to fall together, but when they did Nikki let out a whoop of delight. Whether it was her current diet or the added exercise she was getting these days or a combination of factors, one thing was clear: She had lost weight—and inches! At that moment, she would have traded her left elbow for a full-length mirror . . . a measuring tape . . . a pair of scales . . . something—anything—that would reveal exactly how many pounds she’d lost and let her view the results for herself.
On the heels of delight came the disheartening thought that, though she probably weighed less and looked better than she had in five years, it was only temporary. She was pregnant and would no doubt regain every ounce and then some in the next few months. Not that she wasn’t looking forward to having a child at long last; but drat it all, why did Mother Nature have to tease her like this?
Her bad humor carried over, dimming the joy of the moment, and she found herself bemoaning the fact that her new, trim condition was to be so short-lived. To which, Silver Thorn replied calmly, “You put too much importance on being thin. That is not the most vital facet of life, Neeake.”
“Easy for you to say,” she retorted waspishly. “You probably haven’t been chubby since you lost your baby fat.”
He leveled an impatient look at her. “If you had a choice, which I assure you that you do not, would you rather be skinny or have our baby?”
“The baby, of course. I just wish I could enjoy being thin for a while longer.”
“Then kindly cease your whining and enjoy it while it lasts,” he told her. “Or are you one of those people who are not happy unless they have something about which to complain?”
“Well, excuuuuse me!” she snapped back. “At least I have an excuse. Everyone knows th
at when a woman is pregnant her hormones change and she has mood swings. If I’m getting on your nerves, you have no one to blame but yourself. You’re the one who was so hot to get into my britches and share your sperm. Given that and an old adage—now that you’ve married in haste, you may repent in leisure, buster.”
Despite the moodiness and the morning sickness, Nikki felt healthier than she had in years. She was eating better, sleeping better, and her muscle tone was improving daily. Junk food was just a pleasant memory, though there were times when she would have mugged someone for a Coke or a Snickers bar—if there had been anyone to mug for one.
She was somewhat concerned that she might not be getting the amount of calcium she needed in her diet, however, particularly now that she was pregnant, since fresh milk was basically non-existent in the village. When she expressed this concern to Konah, the woman assured her that healthy children were the rule rather than the exception among the Shawnee.
“Yes, but calcium is very important so the baby will have strong bones and teeth and so that I will have a nutritious supply of breast milk for him. I’ve never been pregnant before, but I’ve been around my brothers’ wives long enough to know that much.”
“I do not know this word calcium,” Konah said. “But I am sure that fish and meats, beans and greens, offer some of this, do they not?”
“Yes, but cow’s milk or goat’s milk supplies more. So do eggs and spinach.”
Konah nodded “Eggs are good. We can collect turtle eggs for you, and maybe some fish eggs. Too bad it is too late for the eggs from the birds and the ducks.”
Nikki grimaced. “Call me plebeian, but I’ve never cared much for caviar, thank you. The turtle eggs don’t sound too awful, though.”
“We must also boil some bone soup for you,” Konah said. “Like makes like, you know. If you want strong bones for your babe, you eat the bone of a strong animal.”
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