by Pamela Clare
Doug nodded, fighting laughter now. “This is a good bride price.”
“Aho!”
Laughter.
Naomi stood behind her father now, a hand over her mouth in excitement.
Doug turned to Naomi and spoke in Lakota using both of their Lakota names. “She Catches the Light, this warrior, Gray Owl, wishes to take you as his wife. Is this agreeable to you?”
He’d obviously gotten into the spirit of this.
“Yes!” Naomi answered in English, running to Chaska, throwing her arms around him, and kissing him. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
Applause. Whoops. Drums. Or was that his heart?
“Then I accept your bride price.” Doug walked over to the yard tractor, sat in the seat, and chuckled. “Twenty-two horsepower. It says right here. I guess that means it’s time to get ready for a wedding.”
Cheers.
But Chaska wasn’t paying attention to Doug or anyone else, the woman in his arms now his entire world.
She looked up at him, her eyes bright. “I can’t believe you did this.”
“Are you kidding? You’re worth at least five yard tractors.”
She laughed, the sweet sound putting a hitch in his chest. Then her expression grew serious. “The luckiest day of my life was the day you found me.”
“I was led to you, Naomi.” No one would ever be able to tell him otherwise. “I love you with everything I am, and I always will.”
He leaned down, kissed her.
“You look good in my old powwow pants.” Old Man’s voice brought their kiss to an end. “It’s a special day. Let’s see some fancy dancing.”
The air around them filled with whoops and cheers.
Epilogue
Two months later
Naomi unlocked the front door, opening her boutique to the public for the first time. It was a cold November Saturday with a sky that threatened snow. “Do you think anyone will come?”
Chaska rested his hands on her shoulders. “It will take time to build your clientele, but I have no doubt that your shop is going to become a reason that people drive to Scarlet from Boulder and Denver.”
“I hope so.”
This had been Chaska’s wedding present to her.
He’d handed her the lease to the shop on their wedding night and then worked beside her for two months, painting the walls, refinishing the wood floors, installing display cases and lighting, restoring the beautiful Victorian exterior. Winona had helped, too, as had her father and Star. They had made the trip down a couple of times, bringing the kids, who got to see their first moose—not to mention their first wolf. It was her father who had come up with the name for the store—Tanagila’s.
Now all Naomi needed were customers.
She glanced around, wanting to make sure everything was perfect. Paintings and photographs hung on the walls, including some of her own work. Pottery and blown glass pieces in a rainbow of colors sat on glass shelves together with small sculptures of bronze and stone, bigger sculptures sitting on the floor. Glass display cases held jewelry—rings, earrings, bracelets, pendants, necklaces, tie clips, belt buckles, and more—with Naomi’s signature pieces given special prominence in the center case.
Everything here had been made by Native artisans, many of them from Pine Ridge. The idea had come to Naomi the week after her naming ceremony when she’d met with some of her new artist friends and had listened to them talk about how hard it was to reach potential customers. If the shop were successful, it would give them all another source of income and funnel revenue into Native communities that desperately needed it.
A white van stopped in the street outside the shop. A man climbed out and walked to the back, then pulled out a large bouquet of flowers. Naomi didn’t realize they were for her till the man ran up her front steps and pushed through the door. “Naomi Belcourt?”
Naomi stared up at Chaska, who shrugged. “They’re not from me. I wish I’d thought of that.”
She took the flowers and set them down near the cash register, then retrieved the card and opened it, her throat growing tight.
Congratulations on your big day. We’re
sending all our love and prayers.
Mitakuye Oyasin.
Dad, Star, and the kids
She handed the card to Chaska, who read it and gave it back to her. “Your old man sure knows how to come through for you.”
Yes, he did. He’d been true to his word, doing his best for her in everything, getting his name on her birth certificate, paying for her wedding dress and hosting the ceremony in his yard. He was still fighting to get her adoption annulled. There hadn’t been a moment since getting the results of the paternity test when he’d let her down.
The back door opened, and Winona appeared, a white pastry box in her arms. “Sorry that took so long. I got a dozen scones and a dozen blueberry muffins, plus some cookies just in case. Where should I put them?”
“On the counter there next to the coffee.” Naomi had wanted to have refreshments on hand, part of making the store’s opening special for her customers. Except that there were no customers. “If no one comes, I guess we’ll have to eat these ourselves.”
Win had already picked out a scone. “I’m okay with that.”
Footsteps on the wooden walkway.
Rose appeared, bundled against the cold and waving at them through the window. She walked inside. “I just had to be your first customer.”
“Welcome.” Naomi accepted a patchouli-scented hug. If Rose liked the shop, it would be better for business than taking out a full-page ad. “I’ve got coffee, scones, and muffins over there.”
But Rose’s gaze was on a blown glass vase. “Oh, this is lovely.”
The door opened again, and Rain and Lark stepped in, followed by a woman Naomi didn’t know, someone who wasn’t from Scarlet.
Lark glanced around, a bright smile coming over her face. “Wow!”
Chaska leaned down, spoke for Naomi alone. “See? Things will be fine.”
By noon, they’d gone through the scones, the muffins, and four pots of coffee and were down to the cookies. Winona and Chaska had gone out to get more and to grab lunch for the three of them.
Naomi answered people’s questions. She’d counted sixty-five customers so far, a mix of locals, people she recognized, and people from Boulder who told her they’d read the newspaper article about the store. She’d already sold several higher-priced pieces—a painting by a Hopi artist, a Navajo squash-blossom necklace, one of her signature bracelets—along with dozens of smaller items.
If every day were like this one…
The door opened again, and a middle-aged woman stepped inside. She wasn’t a local, her blue pantsuit and the diamond rings on her fingers telling Naomi that she was well off. A business traveler perhaps?
“We’ve got coffee and cookies over here if you’d like something. Feel free to browse. Let me know if you have any questions.”
“Are you the owner?”
Naomi nodded, held out her hand. “Yes. I’m Naomi Belcourt.”
“I’m Kristi,” the woman said. “Tell me about this place.”
Naomi explained that she was a jewelry-maker and that the boutique carried the work of Native artists from around the country.
“Show me some of your work.”
Naomi pointed out her photographs, then showed Kristi her jewelry in the display cases, finishing with her signature pieces in the center case.
“These are exquisite. Can I see that one?”
It was one of Naomi’s latest pieces, a bracelet with a hummingbird of inlaid abalone, mother of pearl, onyx, and green turquoise flashing its shimmering wings against a flower of inlaid rose quartz. “I made this when I got back from my honeymoon.”
Okay, so it had been a week-long stay at a bed and breakfast in Estes Park, but that had been perfect, giving them time to explore each other and the mountains.
“How long have you been married?” Kristi asked.
“Just since the end of September.”
“Congratulations. Oh, look at this filigree work. Beautiful.” Kristi turned the bracelet in her hand, examining it. “Did you have a big ceremony?”
“We got married at my father’s place on Pine Ridge. My husband’s grandfather is a spiritual leader. He led the ceremony. We invited family and a few close friends from Scarlet. It was small, but for us, that was just right.”
“It sounds wonderful.” The woman held out the bracelet. “I’ll take this.”
Naomi wrapped it for her and ran her credit card. “Thanks for coming in today. Would you like my card?”
“Yes, thank you. I would.” Kristi took the card, tucked it in her handbag. “How did you become interested in jewelry-making?”
Naomi didn’t want to share the whole story, so she gave her the shorter, more cheerful version. She drew her medicine wheel out of her blouse, held it by its cord where Kristi could see it. “I was given this medicine wheel, made by my great-grandmother when I was very little. I was fascinated with it and wanted to learn how to make things like it.”
Kristi stared at the medicine wheel, a look of recognition on her face as if she’d seen one before and knew what a medicine wheel was.
“Lunch has arrived!” Winona came up behind Naomi, holding a paper bag from Tacos Sabrosos.
“Oh, thank goodness! I’m starving.”
Chaska appeared carrying more scones and muffins, which he set down near the almost-empty cookie plate. “Who was that?”
Naomi turned, saw Kristi disappearing down the street. “She said her name was Kristi.”
Chaska shook his head. “It looked like she was in tears.”
“Really?” She’d seemed perfectly cheerful to Naomi.
Winona held up a white envelope. “I think she left you something.”
Naomi opened the envelope and found a letter inside. At the first words, her eyes filled with tears. She threw the letter down and ran for the door, looking up and down the street for any sign of Kristi. She was gone.
For a moment, Naomi stood on the store’s front porch, fighting to get her emotions under control, cold wind biting into her skin.
Kristi was her mother.
A bell jingled, and Chaska stepped outside.
He wrapped his arms around her. “I read it. It’s a powerful letter.”
“I don’t have time for it now. I just can’t … not now, not with customers in the store, not till I’m home. Can you keep it safe for me?”
“Of course.”
She walked back inside, smiled to Win, who looked worried. “I’m so hungry. Where are those tacos?”
Chaska sat on the sofa beside Naomi while she read through the letter that her biological mother had left for her today, unable to imagine how this must feel. The woman had abandoned her, had nearly killed her, and hadn’t reached out—until now.
And yet Chaska couldn’t help but feel for Kristi. She’d been a child in a terrible situation with no support, no one to help her. She hadn’t been able to see any way out, so she’d made the problem go away by abandoning Naomi.
He couldn’t excuse what she’d done, but now he could understand it.
Naomi finished the letter, tears streaming down her face.
Chaska drew her into his arms, held her while she sobbed, wishing he knew what to say to her. Hell, he didn’t even know what she was feeling.
Win sat down on the other side of her, rested her hand on Naomi’s back, offering silent support, a helpless expression on her face. She loved Naomi, too, and she was probably just as uncertain about what to say or do as Chaska.
Naomi drew back, picked up the letter again, tears on her cheeks. “I’ve spent so much of my life hating her, raging at her. Why did she leave me? Why did she dump me? Why did she think I was garbage?”
“Now you know.” Chaska handed Naomi a tissue. “She never thought you were garbage.”
“It’s not what I expected. That’s for sure.”
“What does the letter say?” Win asked. “Can I read it?”
Naomi picked it up again and read it aloud, her voice breaking, new tears streaming down her cheeks. “Dear, dear Naomi: Every day since your birth, I have thought about you. Every day, I have regretted what I did. There is no excuse so I won’t offer one, but I do owe you an explanation.
“I was sixteen when I met your father at summer camp. He was the sweetest, most handsome boy I’d ever known. I didn’t think about the consequences. I thought I was in love, and I just wanted to be with him.
“When I got home, my parents were furious to learn that I had a Lakota boyfriend. They refused to let me call him or even write him a letter. My mother took his phone number and threw it away. When he called, she told him to stay away from me. She even tried to take away the medicine wheel he’d given me. I hid it in my room.
“I think some part of me understood I was pregnant, but I just couldn’t face it. I did my best to hide my belly from everyone, especially my parents, who had once threatened to kick me out if I ever got pregnant.
“The night you were born was the longest and toughest and most terrifying night of my life. I was in so much pain and so afraid. I had no idea what to do, no knowledge about childbirth. I had you in the basement bathroom by myself, biting a towel so that I wouldn’t scream. There was so much blood.
“When you were out, I held you. You looked up at me and didn’t even cry. You were the most precious, most perfect thing I’d ever seen. But you looked like your father, and I knew my parents would punish me if they saw I’d been together with an Indian boy. I knew I had no choice but to give you up.
“So I wrapped you in a blanket I’d used for one of my dolls when I was little, tucked the medicine wheel inside it along with the afterbirth (I thought it would keep you warm), and snuck out of the house.
“I had no idea what to do with you. Back then there were no laws that enabled a mother to leave her newborn at a church or fire station without answering questions. I was sure that if I went to the fire station, my parents would find out. So, I put you near the back door of a grocery store because I thought a lot of people must go in and out and that they would find you quickly. Then I went home, cleaned the mess in the bathroom, and tried to hide my bleeding.
“When I heard on the news that a baby had been found, I knew it was you. The news reports said you’d been close to dying. I have never gotten over the guilt I feel for abandoning you rather than facing my parents, for putting you in danger, for making the first hours of your life so terrible. When I think of you, lying in that alley, crying, with no one around, I am crushed and hate myself.
“I worked hard to finish high school after that and went to college. I married a man and later divorced him. I’ve had no other children. My life has been focused on higher education. But there hasn’t been a day when I haven’t thought of you and hoped you were safe and happy.
“When I saw the news stories about the young Lakota woman who’d been reunited with her father and then heard the father’s name, I knew you’d found your way home, found your way to your people. I celebrated with you both in my heart, so happy that you were together.
“You should know that your father reached out to me after he found you. He located me, demanded answers, and then apologized for what I’d gone through by myself. He left it up to me how and when to reach out to you. He said he thought it would help you to know how you ended up in that alley. I hope this brings you some peace.
“I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I am sorry to the depth of my soul for what I did. Love, Kristi Larson.”
When Naomi finished reading, Winona was in tears, too.
Chaska rolled onto his back, taking Naomi with him, his heart still pounding from an orgasm that had almost blown off his balls.
She snuggled against him. “You like it more this way, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” Hell, yeah.
They had agreed to wait to start trying for children till afte
r their first year together. Chaska would have finished his fourth Sun Dance by then—he had invited his father to the wedding, and they were on speaking terms again—and Naomi would know whether the boutique was a hit or a flop. Not wanting him to be stuck with condoms, Naomi had gone to the women’s clinic last week and gotten an IUD.
For Chaska, it was like discovering sex again. Without latex to separate them, he could feel her heat, her wetness. And if he didn’t last quite as long?
He did his best to make up for that, and Naomi didn’t seem to be holding it against him.
Chaska shifted his weight, drew her closer. “How are you?”
She’d had a big day—a successful grand opening and a letter from her biological mother.
“Relaxed. Satisfied.” She gave a giggle, stretching languidly in his arms. “I’m okay. Really, I am.”
“What did your father have to say?”
She’d talked with Doug for almost an hour and had scanned and emailed him a copy of the letter.
“He was really happy about how well it went at the store today—and he was glad that Kristi had finally gotten in touch with me. He knew everything that was in the letter, of course, and he was happy that she’d been as open with me as she’d been with him.”
“Did he explain why he hadn’t told you that he was searching for her?”
“He said he had no idea what he might find. She might have been in prison or an addict on the street or dead by suicide for all he knew. He didn’t want me to have to process that. Once he’d found her and met with her, he wanted to give her the chance to do the right thing. So, he didn’t tell me. A year ago, that probably would have made me angry, but …”
Chaska waited for her to finish, orgasm cooling into sleepiness.
“He has my back, and I trust him. I know that everything he does comes out of his love for me. He’s done so much on my behalf. I trust you, too, and Win and Rain and Joe and everyone on the Team. I didn’t realize how amazing it is to be able to trust people, to be able to rely on them, to know that they care about you and would never deliberately do anything to hurt you. You taught me that, Chaska, you and Win and my family and the people of Scarlet.”