by S. A. Glenn
She squeezed back and smiled.
THE FOLLOWING SATURDAY
THE GREEN CORN DANCE
Per Nane:hi’s request, she and Nathan fasted all day to simulate the four-day hunger the true ceremony required. The night was calm as the participants begin the first rite called: New Green Corn Fest. It was held when the youthful corn was first ready to dine upon. This fest was called Selu tsunistigistiyi (corn when they eat them). Everyone sat on the ground, eating young corn.
The second ceremony was called the mature Green Corn Feast and was conducted about forty to fifty days later; but tonight, forty to fifty minutes later. It was called tu:naka¿ni and was held when the corn became firm and perfect.
Every fire in the silenced village was extinguished; fire hearths were swept clean and relit from the new fire, dubbed the scared fire, produced in the townhouse. Nane:hi and Nathan, along with others, were wearing dance costumes blanketed with green and yellow feathers, portraying them as pieces of unshucked corn. It created fun for the children who watched them. The masqueraders entered the stage as the roars of bass drums sounded off. They paraded around in a circle wearing bright, yellow beaks, tweeting like crazed birds. The children, Nane:hi, and Nathan laughed hysterically at the sight.
THE GYPSY
The seer of the past sat back, rubbed out his fatigued eyes, drew-in a long breath, and exhaled. “Much to visit in life you shared,” he told them, shaking his head in agreement.
“This is so exhilarating!” Katherine gripped Samuel’s hand.
Samuel vividly recalled his experience with Oconnestoto and the silly, laughing bird, the drama of a possible former life catching his curiosity. He wondered how it was, within the limit of reason, what the chances were that she and he had met each other again. He was befuddled and needed to hear more. “Please, sir. Continue!” He leaned forward and gazed impatiently at the transparent circular quartz.
“Yes, please!” Katherine relayed.
“Very well.” Vladimir Asimov widened his eyes and peered deep into the ball. “What comes before my eyes? I see Nane:hi in field, collecting berries, red.”
LONDON, ENGLAND
1762
“Nane:hi! Nane:hi!” shouted Nathan. “Where are you?”
“I am here!” She stood up from behind a sumac bush holding a basket. “Come, Nathan. Help me!”
He ran to her in a panic, only to find her plucking berries with a smile. “You had me in for a fright, Nane:hi. I thought that you were in distress!”
“I am sorry, Nathan. I did not mean any trouble for you. Please, forgive me.”
“You know it is that I just worry about you.”
“I know,” she replied, pecking him on the lips. “And thank you for that. Now, please help me. Just pick the red ones.”
“Yes, my lady. Anything for my queen.”
They collected enough berries for on application to darken her hair’s color. Leaving the remote area behind the Quin home, they journeyed inside to her room.
Standing in front of the mirror, Nane:hi brushed her hair, holding its length in her hand. Nathan prepared the berries by crushing them with a rounded stone, making sure not to stain his hands. Once pulverized, he squeezed out the juice with an extractor and placed the fluid into a large vessel. She placed her hair into the bowl and saturated it for a few minutes. Nathan filled another container with cool water and placed it atop a table. Nane:hi sat on a chair with her back to the water. She leaned her head back as he lathered her hair and gently worked-in the suds. Once washed, he poured fresh water over her hair to rinse it, then handed her a towel.
“It is nice having help with my hair,” she explained, wrapping it with the cloth. “My late husband, being a warrior, never did anything like this for me. It is so soothing. I almost fell asleep on you,” she yawned.
“I like doing things for you, Nane:hi. I will never be too proud to take care of you. I will pamper you as often as you will allow me.”
“Thank you for taking care of me, Nathan.” She took hold of his hand, smiled up at him. “I do not know what I would ever do without you.”
He took her hand, kissed it and grinned. “Will you have a tryst with me tonight and meet under the gazebo at midnight?”
“A rendezvous under the belvedere, Nathan?” she asked with a smile, her fingernail between her teeth while raising her brow. “How romantic! Of course, I will. Would not miss it for the world!”
Nane:hi sat upon a bench, holding two glasses inside the gazebo behind the Quin home, the time nearing their engagement—then Big Ben commenced striking 12 o’clock. She tightened her shawl around herself as footsteps sounded, growing louder. She hid behind a post, holding the glasses as her only weapons.
“‘Had I three ears, I’d hear thee,’” a man’s voice called out, reciting William Shakespeare.
“‘Be bloody, blood and resolute. Laugh to scorn the power of man, for none of woman born shall harm Macbeth.’” She peeked around the wooden pillar, smiling from ear to ear. “Nathan! ‘Punctuality’ is your middle name.”
“And ‘lovely’ is yours,” he admitted, holding a bottle of wine.
“You brought my favorite: Beaujolais!”
“And you brought mine: you!”
“You are so sweet.” She blushed then patting at the spot next to her as she sat. “Come, have a seat.”
He glided up the steps, took his place next to her, sniffing the air. “I smell strawberries.”
“It is my hair. I used the juice of them to scent it. Do you like it?”
“It makes me want to eat you up.” He attempted to bite her neck.
“Ahhh!” she squealed, tucking her ear to her shoulder, pushing him away in laughter. “Do not get me started, Nathan. You know that that is my erogenous zone—behave!—at least until after a few toasts.”
“I mayn’t be able to control myself that long,” he confessed, stealing a kiss from her lips. He popped the cork, poured a smidgen for her then for himself. Holding up his glass, she did the same with hers, both crystals sparking in the moonlight as he proposed a toast. “May we be good to one another throughout eternity, cherishing our everlasting love.”
“Hear hear!” she agreed, clanging her glass to his.
They sipped the wine.
“And my toast to you, Nathan: Let us always look for one another if we ever become disunited. Promise me that!” she demanded, tapping her glass to his.
“I promise!” He peered into the windows to her soul, crossing his heart. “And I pinky-swear it also,” he said, bearing his smallest finger.
She leaned against him, wrapping her pinky around his.
Not being much of a drinker, Nathan finished his wine, becoming fast light-headed. Nane:hi completed hers, barely tipsy. They looked upon each other with passion, drawing their faces close to embrace lips. He tilted her back, laying her onto the seat, caressing her. She allowed every bit of his affection to penetrate as she wrapped her arms around his warm body. She ran her fingers through his hair as he enveloped her with his animal-like instinct, devouring her with desire. They dropped their glasses onto the wooden floor, becoming one. The moonlight vanished, leaving only starlight and a spectacular meteor shower.
CHAPTER 11
THE GYPSY
Vladimir Asimov smiled and raised a brow at the fiery flashback, approving of their undying devotion. “I did not know depth of past. Never seen such dedication.” He leaned back and cupped his chin with a serious presence upon his pondering face.
In awe of the realization, Katherine struggled to perceive how this ‘just for fun’ fortune-teller had revealed the use of the berries, her feelings for Samuel, and the Beaujolais. “Please, Mr. Asimov, tell us more,” she implored.
Gazing over to Katherine at her pleading statement, Samuel directed his concent
ration back to Vladimir Asimov and nodded in agreement with unblinking eyes.
Vladimir Asimov knew he had their earnest attention as he placed his large, hairy hands flat onto the table. “As you wish.” Yet again, he stared into the crystal. “I see Nane:hi, moaning in pain. Wait! Not pain. Pleasure.”
THE RENDEZVOUS
LONDON ENGLAND
1762
“Ohhh . . . Nathan. Please . . . please, don’t stop,” she whispered into his ear.
“I’ve waited so long for this, Nane:hi. I can’t wait any longer,” he gently replied into her ear, nibbling on its soft rounded part, unbuttoning the knobs on her dress.
“Take me, my lover!” she demanded.
Sliding her skirt and bodice up to her chin, he discovered she was wearing nothing else. Exposing her silken breasts that burst out of their captivity, he fit his hands around them, exploring their plumpness. She bit her lower lip, giving out a low, prolonged sound of bliss. He worked a probing hand up over her throat to her mouth, running a finger over her luscious lips. She gently clamped down onto his finger with her teeth, sucking on it. He slid both of his hands over her curves, then down to her long, sensual legs to the tips of her toes. She reached up, yanked his pants down to his knees. Taking hold of her calves, he pushed her knees to her chest. He wrapped his damp, soft, cool hands around her waist, pulled her into position, then thrust himself inside her. She raised her back off of the bench, enclosing her legs wholly around his body, biting his chest.
“Oh my God!” She dropped her head, back arched. “You’ve gonna make me—”
Covering her mouth with his, he stopped her from finishing her seductive sentence. He pulled out, drove himself in once more, and lifted his head from hers as he released his manliness inside her.
“climax!” she roared, digging her nails into his back.
Two months later Nathan showed up at Nane:hi’s in the morning. He found her vomiting, not able to hold down her breakfast. Worried about her, he rushed her to the doctor.
After waiting for her to come out from her visit, she came out smiling, and looking better. He dashed over to her, sat her down into a chair, and held her hand. “Are you well? Is everything okay? May I get you something. Water? Food?”
“Nathan, relax, silly. Let me answer one question at a time.”
“You are right,” he admitted, taking a few deep breaths.
“Thank you, my darling. Now, first of all: I am well, and everything is fine. The doctor gave me water, and I will eat when I get home. And, are you ready for this . . . ?”
“What? What? Please tell . . .”
“I am with child.”
“How is that?” He smiled, apparently not thinking before speaking.
“Seriously, Nathan . . . must I explain?”
“You mean . . . we are going to have a little ‘brave’?”
“Or ‘squaw’.”
“How wonderful! It is, right?”
She nodded her head yes, smiling as she kissed his cheek. “Why would you ask such a question? We love each other. Unless you were only saying that to take advantage of me!” she kidded.
“Most definitely not! I love you with all my heart, Nane:hi. How splendid this is. What a pleasurable occasion the day has become. I must tell the great news—Oh, but wait. We must marry; that is, if you will take me as your husband?”
“Oh, my sweet, sweet man. I would not have it any other way. You are the most significant element in my existence. Do you not know that by now?”
“I am sorry. Of course I do. I shant dispute it again.”
“Good! Because if you do, I may have half a mind to put you over my knee and teach you a lesson.”
“Does not scare me, my lady. In fact, I may like it.”
“I do not doubt you would,” she said with a playful smile. “Now, let us return to the Quin home. I am famished.”
A few days later after receiving permission from Lord Egremont, Nathan visited with Chief Outacite. Standing in the chief’s presence, Nathan viewed the king’s appearance with his bald head and a patch of hair on the hinder part. He had four prominent markings across his dark-complexioned forehead with a lock of wavy hair draped over it. His eyes were kind looking. Ornaments hung from his neck by strands of leather. A loose fitting, white shirt and silver armbands were worn. A bright red cape with golden trim flowed over his back to the floor, and a staff of authority was held in his scarred hand.
“Chief Outacite, it has been awhile since we have spoken. How are you?” Nathan bowed.
“I am well, Nathan Blackmore. Life is good. What a privilege to see you again.” His voice was deep with a heavy, Cherokee accent.
“The honor is mine,” he threw back.
“You are too kind. What brings you into my presence, my friend? Are things well in the land?”
“Indeed they are, Chief Outacite. So well, I am quite excited!”
“That is good news. What has you encouraged?”
“Well, you know your lovely daughter and I have spent a lot of time together,” Nathan nervously admitted. “So much . . . that we love each other.”
“She has mentioned this. Go on, Nathan Blackmore.”
“I would like to take her in as my wife!” he confessed, standing tall.
“I see!” Chief Outacite stated with seriousness, turning his back to Nathan, throwing his cape behind him as he powerfully strutted to the window and gazed out upon Long’s Court, Leicester Fields. “And you wish for my consent?”
“Yes, Chief Outacite.”
Chief Outacite stood silently for a moment. He was a mighty monarch. He had deep morals and would not let just anyone marry his daughter. If a man wanted to unite with his only child, that man must be like himself: strong, honorable, witty, and brave. He would not allow anyone less than that to take his daughter’s hand in marriage. He sharply turned around with his cape in hand, facing Nathan with an undetermined expression—he cracked a grin. “You have my blessings, Nathan Blackmore.”
All of Nathan’s worries drained from his body, allowing a smile to form. “Thank you, Chief Outacite. I will take the best of care of our treasured Nane:hi.” He offered his hand in appreciation.
Chief Outacite accepted Nathan’s gesture with warmth. “You two are meant to be together. I could never keep love as powerful as yours apart. May you two live long, healthy lives.”
“Thank you, Chief Outacite, thank you,” he said with overwhelming excitement. “I must rush off, give Nane:hi the amazing news, then ask for her hand in marriage. You have made us very pleased! Farewell, Chief Outacite.”
Nane:hi opened her door and Nathan was there with a big grin. He dashed toward her and swept her off her feet into his arms, spinning in circles. “Your father has given his consent for me to marry you.” He softly set her down, straightening his clothes and composing himself. Kneeling onto one knee, he took her hand.
“Oh, my!” she blurted out, a tear of felicity forming.
“My beautiful, Nane:hi: I will forever adore you till the end of time. I will spend my life caring for your needs, keeping you happy. I shall never leave your side, protecting you at all costs. It would be my great honor to have you as my wife. So I ask you, Nane:hi, my beloved woman, will you marry me?”
“My dear Nathan, you have filled my days with love, taking away the cold loneliness in my life. You have shown me compassion beyond any I have ever experienced. I will always be at your side. It would be my greatest honor to have you as my husband. Yes, I will marry you?”
Nane:hi and Nathan had a Cherokee wedding. There was not any type of rites or ceremonies for marriage or courtship. Nathan obtained his good friend the Archbishop of Canterbury for the marriage. He paid him fifteen guineas to sign the license. The process lasted thirty minutes without any other festival. After the de
ed was done, the newlyweds left St. Paul’s Cathedral.
Nathan and his wife moved into a small house north of The River Thames. With the winding stream behind their home, a marvelous view of Ranelagh Gardens lay in the front. Nane:hi was at home cooking the evening meal, preparing potatoes, pumpkin, hominy, peas, and buffalo.
After a rough day at work Nathan arrived to the smell of his wife’s delicious array of provisions. Limping into the kitchen, he stood at her side, sore and tired. “Hello, my wonderful wife. Everything smells tasty. Is this your famous Indian bread?” he asked as he reached for some.
“Yes, my fabulous hard-working husband, but be careful, it is hot! It just came out of the oven. Please, sit, everything is ready.”
“I would love to, but I fell and landed onto a child’s pet porcupine. I have spine tips in my backside. Ouch!” he exclaimed as he rubbed his rear.
“That poor animal!” she laughed.
“It is fine. I am the poor animal!”
“My poor darling!” she made light of his pain.
“But it hurts!”
“I am sorry. I shant tease you anymore. Drop your drawers, let me take a look.”
“Be gentle,” he begged, doing as instructed.
With his mid-area exposed, she noticed a mark next to his groin. “What is this dark spot?” She ran her finger over it.
“It has been there since I was born.”
“I learn something new about you every day. Now grab the back of the chair and bend over.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, gritting his teeth.
“Oh my!”
“What?” He looked back at her.
“You need surgery!”
“I knew it was serious!” He peered up into the heavens.
Plink! Plink! She pulled out two tips.
“Ouch! Ouch!” he uttered, squeezing his buttocks.
“One last thing, do not move.” She reached for a bottle of bourbon, pouring a splash onto a napkin and rubbing the area with it.