by T. Isilwath
“Have you eaten anything since breakfast?”
“No,” she admitted. Michael had always been hyperaware of her diabetes, sometimes even more than she was.
“It’s only been six hours,” she defended when she heard him sigh.
He took her by the arm. “C’mon, there’s a sandwich place in the truck stop. Elisi’s making cornbread and venison stew, but we’ll get you something to tide you over in the meantime.”
The mention of cornbread and stew was enough to make her mouth water.
“No, really, I can wait…”
He turned his head and gave her “The Look,” the one that said there was no arguing and no convincing him otherwise. She hadn’t seen it in six months, but she knew it well enough to give in. She let him lead her into the truck stop where he ordered a turkey and Swiss sub on whole wheat bread for them to split. Because she didn’t want to ruin her appetite for Elisi’s food, she just took a few bites and let Michael have most of it. He’d always been able to eat his weight at dinner, and then be able to eat again an hour later. Some days she envied him.
It was so surreal, sitting there, looking at him from across a battered For-mica table that had seen better days. Watching him as if they had never spent six months apart, as if she weren’t about to leave him when Akihiro came for her. She could only imagine what was going through his mind. Did he notice that she wasn’t wearing his ring on her left ring finger? Knowing what she knew, did she even have the right to wear it at all, or should she give it back to him now?
She decided against it. While she knew that he’d never leave her stranded at a truck stop miles away from home, she had no desire to spend the next forty minutes sitting next to a man whom she had just crushed beneath the heel of her uncaring shoe. Besides, until Akihiro made an appearance she wasn’t saying anything. If Michael asked why the ring wasn’t on her left hand, she would tell him that she had switched fingers because she had lost too much weight, and the ring became too big for her left ring finger. It was true. Her left hand had always been smaller than her right. The half-truth would be good enough and he would be none the wiser.
‘Until I tell him the whole truth and destroy his world,’ she thought grimly.
“Are you all right?” Michael asked.
For a moment she was furious. Everyone was asking her if she was all right. She’d been tossed five hundred years back in time to Feudal Japan, it took them five months to find her, she almost died, the federal government and the military were threatening to imprison her if she talked, her kidneys were damaged, she had numbness in her hands and feet, and she was going blind.
What on earth made anyone think she was all right?
But Michael had no way of knowing any of that. He only knew what he saw, and she knew what he saw: the woman he loved, too thin, too pale, too worn for his liking. She had no doubt that her sunken eyes and blank expression deeply concerned him, and she could not take her irrational anger out on him.
There had been a time when she had railed at him, and he had taken everything she could possibly throw at him, but all that had ended the night she had slammed him in the face with a book and torn open the corner of his upper lip.
He still bore the crescent-shaped scar. She swore that night, sitting in the hospital waiting room while a surgeon stitched him up, that she would never take her anger out on him again, ever.
“I’m fine,” she replied as she forced down her rage. “Just tired.” He nodded and took a sip of his soda. “Elisi told me that’s what the doctor said to expect. He told her you’d had NKHS, and you’d be tired for a while.” She nodded. “Yeah. I get worn out easily. It’s better than it was, but…”
“But I think, for now, it’s better if we stay with Elisi rather than go back to Cullowhee. That way you won’t be alone when I have to go to work, and I don’t mind the commute. It’s slow this time of year anyway.” She had been thinking something along the same lines, but not for the same reasons. The truth was, she just wasn’t comfortable returning to the apartment she shared with Michael when she knew she would probably be leaving him. It didn’t seem fair to him or right for her.
“Yeah,” she agreed. “That sounds good.”
He smiled and part of her died inside. She loved him, she did, and seeing him only made her remember how much. But she loved Akihiro too, and there seemed no way she could avoid choosing between them.
“We should go. Elisi is waiting for us,” he said, finishing his drink.
“Yeah, we should.”
They picked up the crumpled wrapper and the paper cup and tossed them in the garbage bin as they headed out. Michael took Iris and her laptop from her and put them on the backseat of his truck with her backpack and rolling suitcase, then they both got into the vehicle. Soon they were turning onto Route 209, headed down to Rte 19 that would take them to the Qualla Boundary and home.
“I need to get gas,” he said after a few minutes of quiet. His truck was an FFV, which meant it could run on E-85 ethanol.
“Didn’t the truck stop have E-85?”
He looked chagrined. “I forgot,” he admitted sheepishly.
She laughed and shook her head. “You never change,” she teased. “Is there an E-85 station between here and home?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I passed one on 19.”
“Okay then, we’ll stop there.”
“Okay.”
They were lucky and a gas station on Rte 19 had E-85 so they stopped to fill up. Michael bought a soda and got her a bottle of spring water that tasted eerily like the tap water at her grandmother’s house.
“What’s wrong?” he asked when he saw her face.
“I think you just paid $1.85 for Elisi’s tap water.” He shrugged. “Could be worse. I could have paid $1.85 for city water.”
“True.”
He got back in and they set off again, turning onto Rte 19 and heading west. A half hour later, they were on the outskirts of the Qualla Boundary, and she was beginning to feel as if the cab of the truck was collapsing in on her.
She had been feeling steadily more and more anxious and nervous the closer they got to her grandmother’s house, and now she felt sick. She knew she had to get out of the truck as soon as possible or she would throw up.
“Michael…” she began, swallowing and tasting bile.
“Yeah?”
“Take me into the forest, please?”
“Huh?”
“Please. I need… I need to get out of this truck. I… it’s too much. Take me, please?”
“Okay, Jo-Jo. Whatever you need,” he replied, using her old nickname.
He turned off Route 19 and headed down one of the numerous BIA roads that led deep into the forest only to come to a dead end. At the end of the road, he parked the truck and she got out, heading straight for the cover and safety of the towering trees. Before she knew it, she was running, although exactly where she was running to or what she was running from, she did not know. All she knew was that she had to get away from the insanity and stink of the modern world, and the best way to do that was to get lost in the trees.
She ran aimlessly, and when she finally stopped, she had no idea where she was or how far she had run. The forest was unbroken all around her, and the trees towered over her head. It was just like it had been in Japan, in the ancient forest with the equally ancient Sugis, and, as if to remind her even more of what she had been through, she looked around to see that she was in a copse of hemlocks surrounding one fully mature Eastern Red Cedar tree about forty feet tall. Not nearly as tall or as old as the king tree from her beloved sacred grove, it was nonetheless the most impressive tree in the copse, and she staggered over to it.
‘Tree-brother,’ she said as she sunk to her knees amid its roots and rested her forehead against its fragrant bark.
:Tree-sister,: the cedar answered, it’s voice faint and sluggish. The trees of her time were not used to speaking to anyone except each other and the forest animals.
; She curled against the trunk, letting its solid strength ground her and make the world stop spinning. The tree didn’t know why she was so upset, but it sent calming comfort into her, and soon she could feel the soothing calm from all the trees in the copse. Her heart stopped pounding and her breath evened out, but when she came down from the rush she began to cry softly, then more earnestly until she was clinging to the tree and sobbing.
Strong arms encircled her as a body as familiar to her as her own settled down next to her and pulled her into an embrace. She reached up and grabbed Michael around the neck as he drew her closer, and she clung to him as she cried. He wrapped himself around her, using his own body as a shield against the world as rough, calloused hands stroked her hair. She pressed her face to the pulse point of his neck and breathed in his scent. He smelled of soap and sweat, and she’d missed his smell, only now realizing how much.
He didn’t speak, he didn’t need to; he just held her until the storm passed and waited patiently for her to talk to him. When she calmed down, she lay quietly with her head resting in the crook of his shoulder. He had one arm around her, keeping her close but not confined, and his fingers fiddled with her hair.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Don’t be. I was wondering when it was all going to hit you,” he answered, his voice gentle.
“Was I so transparent?” she asked, a hint of humor in her voice.
“No. I just know you too well. It had to hit sometime. I’m glad it was now.”
“Me too, although I can’t guarantee it won’t happen again.” He shrugged. “So we do this again. It isn’t like we haven’t been through times like this before.”
He was referring to how unstable she had been when she had first moved to North Carolina, and such scenes like this one were commonplace.
“Yeah,” she admitted.
His hand stroked her forearm tenderly, his long fingers brushing up and down.
“Ready to go? Elisi’s waiting.”
She nodded and pulled away, smoothing back her hair as she stood up.
Michael rose to his feet as well. Then he took her hand and guided her back down the way they had come. A few minutes later they emerged at the road where Michael had left his truck, and they both got in.
“Home?” he asked her as he turned on the engine.
“Home,” she confirmed, smiling.
He smiled back and put the truck in gear, turning it around to head back to Route 19 and her grandmother’s house.
Chapter Thirty
“Old woman, isn’t that bird cooked yet?” Michael yelled good-naturedly through the kitchen doorway.
“Patience. Did your mother not teach you to appreciate a meal prepared for you?” Elisi replied, taking the stuffed acorn squash out of the oven.
“Patience? If I’d packed the damn thing in clay and stuck it under my water heater on the day I killed it, it would still be done by now!”
“Tish, then next year it will be you doing the cooking,” her grandmother retorted.
“And you’ll be the one out in the woods with the rifle and the snare, right?” Michael shot back with a grin.
Joanna sat at the kitchen table and laughed. Her grandmother and Michael had the same argument every year, and every year neither seemed to win. Michael glanced at her and winked.
“Joanna, Child, would you get the yams for me?”
“Of course, Elisi,” she answered, standing and going to the lower oven of her grandmother’s double wall oven.
She put on a pair of oven mitts and took the sweet honeyed and cinnamoned yams out. She loved the dish, but it was instant sugar shock. Thanksgiving always meant she used a week’s worth of insulin in a day, but this Thanksgiving was special so she wasn’t complaining. She put the yams down next to the squash on the small dining room table and covered them with a dishcloth. In addition to the wild turkey hen Michael had caught, the yams and the squash, there were beans, salad and cornbread with pumpkin pie for dessert. As always, there was enough food to feed an army, and any leftovers would go to needy members of the community.
Twenty minutes later Elisi announced that the turkey was done, and Michael took it out of the oven for her. Wild turkey hens usually only weighed about ten pounds, but they were much more flavorful than their larger, domesticated cousins.
“It’s about time,” Michael said, brandishing the knife and meat fork he would use to carve the bird.
“Tish. Young men,” Elisi snorted.
Michael chuckled and placed an open-mouthed kiss on the old woman’s cheek.
“You know I love you, right?” he said to her grandmother.
Her grandmother smiled and nodded. “I do.”
She had noticed that there was a new closeness between her grandmother and her fiancé. They’d always gotten along well, and Michael had always treated Elisi with respect and love, but now there was a new understanding between them, probably born of the shared grief that they had suffered when she had disappeared. Michael had told her that he’d been practically living in the small house so they would have each other while they waited for news.
As word of her homecoming spread, a number of friends and Elders came to welcome her back, and she was certain that more visitors would come later today. For now, however, she was glad that it was just the three of them. While she was very happy to see all of her friends and neighbors, she found that their visits tired her, and she grew weary after only a couple of hours. She knew that the fatigue was a side-effect of the NKHS, but having to stay alert and answer questions, especially when she was repeating herself or answering the same inquiries, was really wearing her down. Thankfully, Michael played interfer-ence and had no qualms about telling visitors that she was tired and needed to rest.
She was so glad to be home that she didn’t mind the fatigue or the numerous visitors. As soon as she was out of the Army’s custody, she’d relaxed immensely, and she was sleeping and eating better. While they were under her grandmother’s roof they did not share a room, but the first night back she and Michael had slept outside in the backyard in a set of conjoined sleeping bags. It was cold, but Michael had snuggled close to keep her warm, and she’d had the first night of uninterrupted, peaceful sleep since she’d gotten back.
Michael was being so gentle and careful with her, and not pushing for any deeper intimacies other than holding her. Not that there was much opportunity for anything else with her in the spare room and him on the couch, but she was grateful for his consideration and patience. She knew he had been faithful (much more faithful than she had been) so he had to be aching for more physical attention, but he was waiting and letting her set the pace of their renewed relationship. She had always known that he was a very special person, but his willingness to sacrifice his own needs for hers only drove the point home, and she was once again questioning her decisions.
Akihiro had still not made an appearance, and she was actually grateful for that. She wanted Thanksgiving with her family. She wanted time: time to be herself again, time to think, time to decide if leaving with him was what she really wanted. His continued silence and absence were welcome until she began to think it meant that he was dead. She decided not to worry too much about the fact that she hadn’t heard from him until after the holiday. She reasoned that he was probably giving her time with her family, and he would show up on Friday or Saturday. If he didn’t show by the end of the weekend, then she would start to worry.
“Tah-dah! We have… a bird,” Michael announced happily, breaking her out of her thoughts.
He proudly set the serving plate of steaming, carved turkey on the dining room table as she quickly set place settings for three.
“I’ll get the beans and salad,” she offered, heading back into the kitchen.
“Thank you, Child,” her grandmother said as they carried the rest of the food into the dining room.
The meal was ready in short order, and they sat around the table with her placed between Michael and her gran
dmother. Elisi reached out, and they all joined hands to pray and give thanks for the food and the company. She let her grandmother give the blessing in Tsalagi and kept her head down as she gripped both Michael’s and Elisi’s hands tightly.
“We have much to be thankful for this year,” Elisi said after the prayer was finished. She still spoke in Tsalagi because it was her language of choice. “My granddaughter has returned safely from her journey and our family is restored.
We have had a good harvest and there is plenty. The People have prospered and we rejoice in our good fortune.”
“I am thankful to be alive,” she said. “I am thankful to be back with my family and my people. I am grateful to the ones who were able to find me and rescue me. I am thankful for my health and my good fortune. I am thankful to be home.”
Elisi and Michael nodded, then Michael began to speak in Tsalagi, reciting the same speech he had delivered for the past eleven years. He had written it for his first Thanksgiving in North Carolina, the first one he had ever celebrated, and he did not want his new family to forget that the holiday was not embraced by all.
“We are still here. We honor the dead who have gone before us. Our people have suffered, but we have endured. Today of all days we honor the strength of the People. We honor their sacrifices.
“Over three hundred years ago, the Whites came. They took our land. They brought guns, alcohol and disease. They lied to us. They stole from us. They sold our brothers and sisters into slavery. They raped our women and slaughtered our children. They murdered our young men. They rejoiced in our misery and suffering.
“The government broke sacred treaties. Our own leaders betrayed us. We were rounded up like cattle and marched across the country. Thousands of us died. Millions of us have been killed. Of the 500 Nations that were here when the Whites came, many are gone or nearly gone, wiped out by war and disease.
We remember them in our prayers. We honor their deaths and mourn the senseless killing.
“But we are still here. We have lived and survived in conditions the Whites thought would kill us all. We are thriving. We have returned to our ancestral homes. We are rebuilding our communities. We are reviving our culture.