Speak to the Wind

by Mary Tate Engels

  "Adopted Indian children? How could that happen, Mrs. B.? I thought the tribes prohibited that."

  "Well, Maria, you must remember it was a long time ago and circumstances were different. The Quintero family was poor, and the relatives couldn't easily take in two extra kids. I'm sure they were glad to find someone willing to give such good care to the brothers. And to keep them together."

  "That situation would be different today."

  "You're probably right." Mrs. Berg shook her swollen, arthritic index finger. "But those boys were given opportunities they wouldn't ordinarily have had. They were excellent students and good athletes. By the time they were in high school, they were in the papers every weekend for winning some sports trophy or scoring a touchdown. They both got football scholarships to Arizona State University. Don't you remember them?"

  Maria shook her head. "I guess I was too busy with my own life then to pay attention to a couple of guys playing football."

  "As far as I know, they never did move back to the reservation after college. I'll bet the Indians talked about them around campfires for many a year."

  "I'm sure," Maria agreed softly. Stuff of legends, hmmm?

  "Why do you ask?"

  "I met him the other night when he had car trouble and needed a phone." Maria shrugged as if the acquaintance with Joe were merely casual, something in passing. "And I wondered about him."

  The older woman nodded. "I hear he's back."

  "He said he lived in California."

  "Interested, Maria?" Mrs. Berg’s eyes twinkled, and she leaned forward as if to learn a secret.

  Maria shook her head quickly. "Just curious."

  "I hear that both brothers are very successful men now. Joe is in California and Josh in Texas or Oklahoma."

  "We... uh, he didn't say what he did."

  "Why, I think he's an engineer. But I wouldn't be surprised if he moved back to stay. At least, from what I've heard."

  "Why do you say that?" Maria wondered if Mrs. Berg knew that Joe had been right here in the store speaking to a small gathering the day she'd gone to the doctor's.

  "Oh, many of the Indians who move away eventually return. Something keeps pulling them back. Don't know if it's their people, their culture or the beauty of the mountains. But it's something powerfully strong."

  Maria picked up her bag of groceries again. "The Indians probably would say it's the spirit of the mountains. Or the call of the wind. I can understand, though, because the mountains pull me back, too."

  "Guess that's why we're all here, my dear."

  "I guess." Maria walked to the door. "See you tomorrow on my way back to Phoenix, Mrs. Berg. Take care of your arthritis."

  "I'll be right here, as always."

  Maria drove back to the cabin, thinking about two young Indian brothers growing up in Phoenix who now were achieving success in the business world.

  An education and success had always been stressed in her own family. As a result, she and her brother had tried hard to meet their father's high expectations. Maybe that's why Maria pushed herself so hard now to prove something, even though he wasn't here to see her success. She had fallen short of family expectations when she married so young. Determined to prove herself, she had finished college, even though she and Wayne had barely scraped by during those early years of their marriage.

  But they were young and in love and considered themselves invincible. Wayne's devastating illness had smashed their dreams. She was still dealing with Wayne's death when her father was stricken with a fatal heart attack. Afterward Maria stumbled through life, not enthusiastic about anything except her business. She allowed herself no time for playing. Or for thinking about the two men she'd loved so dearly and lost.

  The cabin tucked in the mountains was her only refuge and, ultimately, her source of strength. She supposed the mountains pulled her back, just as they did the Indians.

  Traveling through smoke that seemed to grow thicker and blacker with each curve, Maria grew increasingly disturbed. Eventually two pickup trucks created a crude roadblock, halting incoming traffic.

  "Nobody goes through here, lady." An Apache man approached her car. "We've got a runaway fire up ahead. Need to keep the road clear for equipment."

  Maria's heart began to pound wildly. Runaway fire! The words throbbed repeatedly inside her head. "I live on the lake! What about the cabins?"

  "Looks like only the three at the far end on the cul-de-sac might be in danger."

  "Oh, my God! That's where mine is! Please, I have to go in there!"

  He peered in the window and assessed her for a moment.

  "I'm Maria Eden," she said, gasping. "Mine is the Richey cabin, the one where the lake road curves around. There are only two more past mine on the cul-de-sac."

  "Okay." The man waved her through. “Just stay out of the way."

  "Yes, I will. Thanks." She gunned the accelerator and flew along the dirt road, creating a mushroom cloud of dust behind her car. She had to park a quarter of a mile from the cabin because of the crowd of vehicles already gathered.

  She ran the distance to her precious cabin and arrived breathless and somewhat panicky. Smoke was thick, but the fire was still a good distance away. People loaded with digging tools hiked across her yard. Pickup trucks drove around the cabin and toward the woods. Everyone seemed to be moving at high speed while Maria stood frozen and helpless.

  "Maria! Maria! Thank God you’re here..."

  She turned and recognized the stricken faces of two people hurrying toward her. Ted and Betty Banks, a retired couple, had lived in the cabin next door for over ten years. "Are you all right?" Maria hugged them both. "What's going on?"

  Betty wrung her hands. "Oh, Maria, it's just awful! They say the wind picked up and moved the fire faster than they expected. I'm so worried about our place!"

  "Now Betty, calm down. They've just put us on alert." Ted tried to reassure both women. "You can see the fire's not that close yet. They've called fire departments in Show Low and St. Johns. And it looks like the forest service and the reservation are sending reinforcements."

  "I hope they can contain it," Maria said. "Maybe we should evacuate the contents, pack things up."

  Betty continued wringing her hands. "Oh my, I don’t know what to do. I keep thinking about the McManns' cabin and how fast it burned. I don't want that to happen to our cabin!"

  Ted put a comforting arm around his wife. "Now, Betty, you said you would remain calm."

  "But I-"

  A new voice interrupted them. "Hey, Maria! I've been looking everywhere for you!"

  She wheeled around, recognizing the sound of his voice. "Joe, what a surprise to see you here!" Maria felt an instant rush of warmth and gratification at the sight of him.

  Joe jogged across the yard to where she stood with the Banks. "I thought you might have gone hiking in those woods."

  "I drove to the post for some groceries." She felt school-girlish thinking how she had inquired about him from Mrs. Berg.

  He gestured behind them. "There's supposed to be a roadblock at the highway."

  "There is. At first the man on guard wasn't about to budge. Not until I explained where I lived. I'm glad you're here, Joe."

  Maria remembered her neighbors and introduced them. "Joe Quintero, Mr. and Mrs. Banks. They have the cabin next door."

  Joe shook hands with the older couple.

  "Do you know more about this situation than we do, sir?" Ted asked.

  "I've just been up to the front line," Joe answered somewhat breathlessly. "The fire's not close yet. Still a good mile or more away through those woods. But they're anticipating what might happen if it gets closer. That's why you were alerted. They want everyone out of the cabins."

  "Oh, this sounds serious!" Betty wailed.

  "Well, it's serious, but not desperate yet. There's a line of volunteers digging a trench and fire departments from all neighboring towns have been called. Also, I think someone said helicopters were on the
way from Phoenix. We’ll wet down the cabins just in case."

  "Ohhh, I'm so afraid!" Betty was near tears.

  "Now, now, Betty..." Ted Banks murmured.

  “Tell you what," Joe said with an air of authority. "What I want you to do is to wait at my cousin's house until this is over. There's nothing you can do here, anyway. It's under control."

  "I think that's an excellent idea," Ted responded firmly and nodded at Joe.

  "You, too, Maria. Go with them." Joe took her arm. "Please."

  "No. I'm staying here." She pulled away and gave him a determined look. "It's nice of you to offer, but I’m staying. I might just start packing up, in case I need to evacuate the house." She turned to her neighbors. "And I think it's probably a good idea for you to go until this is over. I'm sure it won't be long."

  Within minutes Joe was ushering the couple toward a dark blue pickup. Maria recognized the driver as the woman who had brought the little boy and the gift from Joe a few days before.

  He returned and propped his hands on his hips. "You know you have no business here, either, Maria." He looked bold and powerful in a dark blue shirt with his jacket open down the front. "It's too risky."

  "Joe, I couldn't possibly leave. Don't you understand? I have to do something. Maybe I should start unloading the cabin."

  "I don't think that would be a good idea now, Maria."

  "What then? I couldn't—" She clutched his arm with frantic fingers. "Joe, I couldn't stand it if something happened to that cabin! It just can't burn down! Please don't let it go up in smoke!" Maria halted and bit her lip. She was sounding frantic, losing control of logic. Then he certainly would insist that she leave. “It’s my families’, all I have left of my father. He built it – ”

  Joe's voice was calming. "It's going to be all right, Maria. We're doing everything we can."

  "That isn't enough! I want—I have to do something!" She took a deep, shaky breath. "Oh my God, Joe. What if..." She lifted pleading eyes to him.

  "It won't. We won't let it." He gestured toward a group of people. “Tell you what. Let's see if there is something safe you can do."

  She went willingly, eager to be doing something, anything.

  He set her to work spraying down the cabin. "Now, Maria, listen to me. I'm going back to join the workers digging along the tree line, but if that fire jumps the trench, you have to leave. We all do. Please don't do anything dangerous like running into the cabin to rescue your stuff. Just let it go and leave. Do you understand?"

  She nodded, knowing in her heart that there was no way she could do what he was asking.

  His brown eyes were serious. "We'll all have to get the hell outta here. I... we don't want any heroics that'll risk your being injured."

  She nodded again, jaw clenched.

  For a moment longer he held her with his gaze. “What?”

  "Okay."

  He turned quickly and left her to battle alone. The next two hours were a blur of activity. The air was peppered with shouts, the revving of motors as trucks came and went, and the constant wail of sirens from fire engines and police cars and a couple of ambulances there on standby.

  When Joe found her again, Maria was supplying drinking water to a group of fire fighters. She handed him a cupful and noticed he'd removed his jacket and tied it around his waist.

  He gulped the contents of the cup and reached for another, then halted. "Listen, the choppers are coming. I hear them!"

  She looked up, a choking sensation tightening her throat.

  They waited in anticipation until the loud, wonderful whir of helicopters reverberated overhead. Happy shouts from the weary fire fighters filled the air as twin helicopters swooped in like giant bumblebees and dropped a thousand pounds of water on the wildly roaring forest fire. The blasts echoed off the surrounding mountains, and more cheers went up.

  Someone yelled, "Bulls eye!”

  And other shouts. “Right on target! Blast! It's out!"

  Tears coursed down Maria's cheeks as she turned to give Joe a spontaneous bear hug. She suspected the fire wasn't over, but at least it seemed to be under control again. They watched the helicopters dump another load of water, then go back to the lake for more. She felt weak-kneed and dizzy and wildly relieved. And extremely grateful.

  "Tell me it's really out," she implored in a low, tremulous voice.

  "The worst is over, but they'll hang around for several hours, watching every flame. We've done just about all we can. They're in charge now."

  She issued a tired sigh. Together they walked around the cabin, assessing the damage a dozen trucks and several dozen volunteer fire fighters had done to the yard. Maria sank down on a step leading to the front porch. She pushed a wind-whipped strand of blond hair behind one ear with shaky, dirty hands that left a smudge on her cheek.

  "Want me to get your car?"

  She lifted her weary head and met Joe's sympathetic brown eyes and nodded. "Would you, please? It's the blue Honda down the road a little way. Keys are still in the ignition."

  He nodded, then halted in mid-step. "Are you all right, Maria?"

  She licked her dry lips. "I just might cry a little. But, I’ll be all right."

  "Everything's okay, you know. Cabin's safe. The fire's pretty well out." He looked down, suddenly drawn to the smudge on her cheek. He wanted to wipe it off but held himself back. "You can cry if you want to."

  "Thanks. Is that permission?" She laughed, a high pitched, hysterical sound. Suddenly the false laughter turned to tears, and she hid her face with those dirty hands. "Oh, God... it almost... burned."

  Joe sat down beside her and wrapped his arms around her heaving shoulders. Gently he pulled her to him, to the strength of his body, and murmured soft, soothing words.

  Maria released her emotions and buried her face against his sweat stained shirt and sobbed. Fears of losing all those years of love and memories wrapped up in the cabin spilled over Joe.

  He held her against him while sobs racked her slender frame. To him she felt thin and extremely vulnerable, and Joe's protective instincts surfaced. But other stronger instincts drove him to want to caress her blond hair with his soot-blackened hands. As they clung together, he realized that only in a weak moment like this would Maria lower her guard with a relative stranger. If he'd met her in normal circumstances, it might take months for her to let him see her true self with her emotions so exposed. Secretly he thought that perhaps this crisis was a small blessing in disguise. They were closer than four days ago, strangers making phone calls. Now they were friends fighting the same battle.

  Sniffling, she lifted her tear-streaked face and wiped her nose on the tail of her jacket. Childlike, she drew her cuffs over her eyes and smeared soot on her nose and cheeks in the process.

  Joe gazed at her, thinking she was absolutely beautiful, red eyes, dirty cheeks and all. This time he succumbed and wiped a smudge from her face with his thumb. Her skin felt like silk.

  "I was so scared," she murmured.

  “It's practically over now."

  "Everybody was great. They all pitched in and worked so hard, even though it wasn't their place."

  "They're neighbors. And it's their forest, too."

  "I appreciate their efforts. And yours. Thanks for coming, Joe."

  "If you're okay now, I'll get your car." He shifted and reluctantly moved away from her.

  "I’ll fix us a cup of coffee."

  He looked back at her, an unasked question on his face.

  "I'm fine now. A good cry is cleansing. I promise not to break down again." She stood and forced a faint smile. "Coffee is the least I can do to show my appreciation."

  "You don't have to do a thing. I’m just glad we were both here." He checked his watch. "Okay, I’ll take time for a quick cup." He jogged away.

  Maria was brewing coffee when he knocked lightly and stepped inside the front door. Her tears were gone, as were the soot streaks, but her cheeks were blotchy from crying.

  Even so
, he thought she was beautiful. Joe was aware that he'd seen her in a rare and unusual situation. This wasn't the same woman who taught people how to act in public, how to keep their cool, how to speak clearly and distinctly. This one had cried helplessly on his shoulder and, for a brief time, needed him.

  "Your yard's a mess."

  "I know. It’ll take some work, but at least it isn't charred like the woods." Maria indicated the scene beyond the window where blackened, stark trees were visible in the distant forest.

  He looked around. "Ugh, it even smells like smoke in here. And everything's covered with soot."

  "It's everywhere. I have my work cut out for me in here, don't I? But I don't care about the mess. I'm just glad everything was saved. To me, that's all that matters." She looked emotionally drained. “It's been quite a day, hasn't it, Joe?"

  "Can I help you?"

  "No, thanks."

  He carried bags from her car into the kitchen. "Your groceries."

  Quickly she wiped the kitchen counter. "Put them here." As he lifted the bag, she noticed that his shirt was torn. "Your sleeve's ripped."

  He stretched one arm to inspect the tear, exposing nut-brown skin. "Doesn't matter. It's an old one."

  "I’ll... let me pay for a replacement."

  "Wouldn't hear of it."

  “I don't know what I would have done if this place had burned. I'm so glad you came to help."

  "When I heard yours was one of those in danger, I was especially concerned."

  “I love this place.” She gave him a little grateful smile and filled mugs with steaming black coffee. "Cream or sugar?" She poured some cream into hers and waited for his response with hand poised.

  "Neither. Thanks." He took his cup and followed her into the living room. "You have a lot wrapped up in this house, don't you, Maria?"

  She nodded mutely, then murmured softly, "I didn't mean to let down like that and cry on your shoulder."

  "Don't apologize. It was an emotional release. Perfectly natural."

  "I—" She looked up at the mantel where she'd put the tiny basket he'd sent. "I forgot to thank you for the burden basket. It's beautiful, but you didn't have to do that, Joe."