Dance With Destiny

by Louise Crawford Ramona Butler

  "She was Paiute. Like you.”

  But that was wonderful. Wasn't it?

  “Dr. Jackson was very much in love with her." He spit out the words, pity in his eyes as he shifted uncomfortably. It wasn’t good to speak of the dead. "He swore he’d never forget her, never stop loving her.”

  The pieces fell into place, cutting her like a knife. Cole was still in love with his dead wife. Everyone knew it – except Destiny Moon.

  "But his wife died two years ago," she protested, her heart begging Jake to agree. The look on his face only reminded her of Web’s expression as he'd said, I was best man at Cole's wedding, a subtle warning in his voice.

  Just as suddenly, she remembered Sylvia’s strange look when they’d met.

  And worst, she couldn’t blot from her mind what had happened the last time she and Cole had been together – he’d called her Lanni.

  "Oh, Jake." A moan escaped her lips. “He’s never let her go. Every time he looks at me, he’s really seeing her, is that what you’re saying?”

  “You tell me, Doctor Sis. He’s your man.” Jake touched her shoulder with sympathy. "But then again, maybe he isn’t."

  Pain shot through her heart. Was Cole still too much in love with Lanni to even see Destiny Moon? Whenever he touched her, kissed her, was he touching and kissing Lanni?

  “No,” she whispered. But the obvious haunted her. Cole belonged to the Whirlwind– the unburied ghost. He was still in love with his dead wife. Oh god, why hadn’t she figured that out before now?

  Destiny stumbled into the trailer and was instantly surrounded by friends, people she hadn't seen since high school. Amidst their greetings, she pushed her pain away, trying to ignore the hurt. But as she stripped off her western clothes, hot tears stung her eyes; she could barely see to pull on her long, buckskin dress. Criminy Coyote, she was dense!

  She yanked on her moccasins. She wanted to shake Cole and make him admit the truth, then jump up and down on his broad chest and scream, I'm Destiny, D-E-S-T-I-N-Y. Not Lanni!

  With a defeated sigh, she smoothed her knee-length fringe. The buckskin felt soft against her bare skin. It smelled good – like home. A sense of belonging comforted her, filled her heart as she glanced around. This place. These people. Her heritage. She would always be a part of this, and it a part of her.

  But as she took the barrette out of her hair, letting it fall to her waist, she remembered the way Cole had run his fingers through it, a look of love on his face.

  Oh God, had he been seeing Lanni?

  She wanted to weep.

  With an enormous effort, she focused on the upcoming dance, swallowed hard, and draped her ceremonial blanket over her left arm. No matter what happened between her and Cole, it was time to dance.

  One of the elders announced the beginning of the Traditional. The crowd clapped as she and ten other women, proud representatives of her people, took their places in the clearing. The drummers began their rhythmic beat. She spotted Cole and Kayla, but was unable to offer even a tight-lipped smile. He had a wife still holding his heart captive.

  Tonight, after the dances, she would say goodbye to Cole and Kayla. The spirits would give her the power to pick up the pieces of her heart and go on with her life.

  *****

  Cole sat beside Kayla, hugging her to him, remembering other Big Times. Jake was married now, to a spit-fire redhead, but the two of them seemed happy as newlyweds. Too bad his innocent greeting, “Broken Hoof” the name Cole had been given in loving jest because of his clumsiness, had come when it did. Now Broken Hoof had bigger problems than a stress fracture doing the Fancy Dance.

  His emotions roiled. Memories haunted him, both sorrow and gladness. He needed to explain to Destiny. But she was dancing now, her feet moving to the drum beat, fringe swaying from her shoulders and arms. Not once had she looked his way.

  He should have told her that he was no stranger to the reservation and the ways of her people. He should have told her before today that Lanni was Paiute. But he hadn't thought coming back here, seeing this place, facing the memories would hit him so hard.

  He would talk to her later, after the powwow, when Kayla was in bed. When he and Destiny were alone.

  Sitting here now, he found it strange that he should fall in love with two women of the same heritage, but with such very different personalities. His relationship with Destiny – assertive, passionate Destiny, the epitome of modern womanhood – would demand more from him than Lanni's quiet passive acceptance ever had. As much as he'd loved Lanni, his love for Destiny ran deeper and stronger than anything he’d ever felt before. That almost frightened him.

  When Lanni died, he'd had Kayla, born of the love they’d shared. Because of Kayla, he'd pulled himself together and gone on. But if he lost Destiny...

  Twice in one lifetime would be too much to ask of any man. He'd never thought he could fill the void Lanni left. Now, miraculously, he had. He wasn't about to let go.

  Kayla nudged his elbow. "Look, Daddy. Doesn't Destiny look beautiful?"

  His mouth felt dry. "Yes, honey, she does. Besa tabuadu. Beautiful."

  The announcer’s voice carried on the wind. "Now is the time for everyone to dance. Come, join us."

  Cole was relieved to see Destiny approach. With barely a glance to him, however, she held out her hand to Kayla, who jumped to her feet and, without hesitation, bounded off with Destiny to the circle. He watched, mesmerized by the woman's dark beauty – statuesque, curvaceous. Her hair flowed like a silk river. It gleamed under the late afternoon sun which had finally broken through the slate of the fall sky.

  Jake interrupted his thoughts. "Break any more toes, Doc?" he asked, grinning, his earlier hasty departure apparently forgotten.

  Appreciative of the distraction, Cole smiled. "I've given up wearing moccasins. They're hazardous to my feet."

  "Bet you still know this dance though." Jake gestured toward the circle.

  "And a few others," Cole murmured, thinking of the Crow Hop and the Sneak Up, dances he'd learned a long time back. Ten years, but the drumbeat still filled him, controlling his heart beat. Memories crowded out of their locked box and echoed through his soul. His body throbbed to the rhythm, to the singers' voices. The last time he’d danced, he’d danced for Lanni.

  Jake appeared behind Cole, his dark eyes intense, taking Cole's measure, his tone caustic. "You planning to dance?” he demanded.

  Cole knew he had a long way to go to win the younger man's favor. He hadn't said much to Jake the last time they'd met. They'd pretty much ignored one another, but Cole recalled thinking him arrogant and wild. Did Jake remember?

  This time, he saw watchfulness in the man's gaze, not cockiness. "No," Cole murmured, giving him an indulgent smile, the decision final. "I'm not dancing." Did Jake think that after two years Cole had forgotten how? Maybe he was hoping Cole would stumble, perhaps break something more critical than a toe – his neck. He was not going to get up just to satisfy this pup. He had enough trouble tonight without making a fool of himself in the powwow dance circle.

  Ten years before he'd been cocky enough not to care – even after he'd broken his darn toe. Ten years. A long time ago, but that's when he'd developed such an affection for the culture, and the people, learning to admire them and their beliefs even as he fell in love with one of their own.

  Something stirred within him, urging him to stand and take his place among them once again. He did want to dance – but not with fifty pairs of eyes watching him – and not with Jake hoping he'd break his darned neck.

  The younger man finally shrugged and rejoined the dancers, his movements graceful, like a jungle cat. Brother and sister glanced at each other, smiled, and moved on, Jake taller and broader. But the two had the same eyes, and they moved with the same confidence.

  Kayla, too, moved with carefree assurance, her adoring eyes fixed on Destiny, a wide smile making her face glow with happiness. Although Destiny returned the smile, there was a tightness around her
mouth that said all was not harmonious.

  When the dance ended, she returned Kayla to Cole's side, murmuring something about having to change for the Jingle Dance, then headed off before he could say a word.

  Three more dances passed before she returned, this time dressed in purple and black. Silver bells covered her shoulders, dangled from her sleeves, and rippled around the skirt, row upon row, emphasizing every graceful move of her body, the sound of them like wind chimes dancing in the breeze.

  Kayla fingered first one and then another of the silver jingles as Destiny explained, “The jingles represent waves and thunder, and scare off bad spirits.” She told of making the dress – taking pride in her heritage.

  Kayla soaked up the information with the same intensity she applied to everything. Her keen interest made him feel guilty he’d not brought her out here before this.

  Finally Destiny looked at him. "After this dance there will be a break for dinner. Most guests and observers will be leaving. Little Joseph has invited us to his mother's trailer." Her words were more rushed than usual. She was upset.

  About his history among her people – a history he'd failed to mention? Or about Lanni? He needed to be alone with her so they could talk, but obviously she had other ideas.

  "I should have told you this would be like coming home to me," he said softly, forcing out each word.

  Her lush mouth tightened. He remembered her angry outburst at the hospital when she'd told him in no uncertain terms that she could fight her own battles. Was another outburst forthcoming?

  Instead, she sighed, a frustrated sound tinged with confusion. He ached to hold her in his arms and tell her he loved her.

  Had he said those all important words? No – they didn't come easy. Never had. He suspected they never would. But he needed to say them to her now.

  "Jake told me Kayla's mother was related to Quinn."

  Cole nodded, wondering where this was leading, disliking the trickle of fear in his gut. His insides twisted at the hurt in her eyes. "It's not something you bring up on a date, Destiny. Your own people taught me not to speak of the dead, that to do so would call them back from their Happy Place. And no matter how lonely I felt, I would never have wanted that. She had too much pain. I was going to tell you on the way here but somehow– "

  The announcer's voice cut in. "Time for the Jingle Dance."

  The drum beat began, accompanied by the many-voiced chant. “Destiny– ” He reached for her, wanting to finish, but she stepped away, her rigid posture and remote expression shutting him out.

  With a sinking heart, he watched her join the other dancers. It may have been some vague resemblance to Lanni that had originally attracted him. But it was Destiny he loved.

  The dancers moved in a circle that took her some distance away, then brought her close again. The late afternoon sun cast her in a golden glow. Kayla shouted to him over the drum beats and the singers. "She looks like Mommy, doesn't she, Daddy?"

  Rather than point out all the ways Destiny was unique, he nodded. "Yes, she does."

  At his words, Destiny froze mid-step, missed a beat then caught the rhythm again.

  Had she heard?

  Dear God, was that what she thought – that she was just a substitute? He’d called her Lanni the last time they were together. At the time, she seemed to accept his explanation. But now – she hardly looked at him.

  He spent the rest of the dance convincing himself he was wrong. But afterwards, as he and Kayla followed Destiny to Jake's trailer site, certainty grew with each silent step – Destiny believed exactly that.

  Frustrated by her silence, he said nothing, afraid he'd say something he'd regret. Kayla bubbled endlessly about the dances until Cole had to bite his lip not to snap at her. Everyone at the small trailer, Little Joseph, his mother, father, and grandmother were extremely polite. They sat outside in bent-willow chairs positioned around a campfire. The family seemed to sense his tension – and remained aloof. Sitting beside Kayla, Cole felt stiffer than iron.

  Jake and several little cousins arrived and the tension broke somewhat with their excited chatter. The food was served before Cole could pull Destiny aside to talk. He ate mechanically, watching Destiny as she and Jake talked. They were only a few feet away, but she might as well have been at the other end of the state. Not once did she look at him, acknowledge him. It hurt.

  "Daddy." Kayla squirmed with restlessness. "I want to go see the big rock."

  "The pyramid?"

  "No, the other one."

  Jake's grandmother nodded benevolently. "The Stone Mother, Our Mother of the Lake."

  Wondering if Destiny would even realize that he'd gone, Cole took Kayla's hand and started in the direction of the lake.

  "Why do they call her that, Daddy? Our Mother of the Lake?" Kayla's voice came out an awed whisper. She'd been so young when he and Lanni had come here before, Cole thought, she wouldn't remember.

  "Well, as I recall, the legend says that the Mother had four children, a boy and a girl who were white, and another boy and girl who were black." As he spoke, the honeyed light of late afternoon seemed to swallow his words. "But the kids were always fighting. The boys used bows and arrows. And the girls would hit each other with their grinding rocks..."

  "Podanoos," Kayla corrected.

  He smiled, surprised and pleased she remembered the Paiute word. She needed to know her mother's culture – he'd been wrong to stay away for two years. Now her childish eagerness to learn about it filled him with a sense of inadequacy. Destiny lived in the white world, but cherished her heritage. He wasn't sure how to model that. If only Destiny and he...

  Kayla tugged on his arm, impatient for more of the story.

  "Yes, they hit each other with their podanoos. So their mother got really angry. She sent one pair off to the north, and the other two off to the south saying 'Now we'll have some peace and quiet around here'."

  "Did she send them off to stay forever?" Kayla asked, as though wondering if such a fate might befall her.

  "Yep." Cole gave her hand a tight squeeze. "But after they were gone, she was very, very lonely."

  "Like you, Daddy?"

  Was he lonely? God, yes. "Sort of,” he said, looking toward the water. “The Stone Mother cried enough tears to create this big lake."

  He was thinking of the emptiness he'd felt throughout the long months since Lanni's death. He'd shed his share of tears. But now... He thought of the bright light which had so recently entered his life – Destiny, beautiful, loving, yet fiercely independent. A true warrior woman.

  He dropped down on one knee, eye-level with Kayla. "Like I'd be if you weren't here, Pumpkin." He gave her a hug, rejoicing in the little arms around his neck. They remained that way for a long moment. "We'd better go back now,” he said, his heart full. “The dances will be starting again soon."

  After walking in silence a few minutes, Kayla asked, "Do you believe the Stone Mother really did that?"

  "What? Cried enough tears to make this lake?"

  "No, that she had two black babies and two white ones."

  "Well, I'm not sure. What do you think?"

  Exuding the confidence of childhood, she skipped ahead of him. "Well, that would explain why we're not all the same color."

  He grinned at her reasoning. How simple the world seemed at six.

  "But we're all the same even though we're not the same color, aren't we, Daddy?"

  His heart swelled and he smiled at her beautiful golden face. "Yes, Kayla, we're all the same."

  The bright red sun dipped beyond the blue waters, bringing the bleakness of night. He turned back toward the distant shadow that was the trailer, disappointed Destiny hadn't joined him.

  "Are you going to dance tonight, Daddy?" Kayla sounded wistful.

  He ruffled her hair. "Not tonight, Pumpkin. Daddy's tired. It's been a hard week." He scooped her into his arms. "When we get home, we're going to have a short night-night, a quick story, then hugs and kisses."
>
  She didn't protest, for which he was grateful. Now if only he could talk to Destiny – make her understand. He'd looked forward to holding her in his arms tonight. Now he wondered if he would ever hold her again.

  Back at the trailer site, only Little Joseph and his grandmother remained. As the two children dashed away to join a game of tag, she motioned Cole to the chair beside her. The small fire now flickered feebly, and the grandmother’s voice sounded old and dry and wise as the old owl. "Jake has asked me to speak to you. He says you do not know your own heart. That you do not see with true wisdom. That you have been away too long..."

  Jake was an interfering son-of-a-coyote, Cole thought, annoyed. He forced his irritation down, focused on the old woman, and spoke with quiet respect. "Even when the bear hibernates for the winter, it knows it will awaken in the spring. I, too, needed to hibernate, but the snow has thawed, the pain healed, and my heart says spring is here.”

  She nodded appreciatively.

  “Everything in life changes, like the seasons,” he continued. “I, too, have changed. Destiny's spirit calls to mine with a new song – a song which the other could never have sung – for they are not the same."

  The last brought a smile from the old woman. She understood that he referred to Lanni, that he respected their beliefs enough not to speak her name. Her face crinkled like dry leather around her kind eyes. "What you say is true."

  From a distance, the drums called to them. "The seasons change, and the dance begins again." He was eager for that mating dance. He wanted Destiny to belong to him – forever.

  The grandmother stood, waving for her grandson and Kayla to follow them. As they headed toward the circle of bonfires, she accepted Cole's arm. It was a good sign.

  "Do you still have your headdress?" she asked, "the one you wore when you were here before?"

  Cole thought of the formal regalia in its plastic cover at the back of his closet. Copied from a headdress favored by one of the old chiefs, Chief Winnemuca, it sported otter tails at the ears, and twenty-five eagle feathers. It had taken him weeks to make. “Yes.”