A Wedding in Willow Valley (Willow Valley Women)

by Joan Elliott Pickart

  “I think that the three of us should go out there and talk to him,” Ben said.

  “Yes, of course, you’re right,” Dove said, getting to her feet.

  “I’ll have to take my handheld in case I’m needed for something,” Ben said, rising. “You might as well drive your truck, Dove, so you won’t have to come back into town to get it. So we’ll go in three vehicles. We’re going to look like a posse descending on Grandfather.”

  “Whatever it takes,” Dove said, starting toward the door.

  “Wait,” Laurel said, pushing herself to her feet. “Shouldn’t we talk this over, decide how we’re going to approach Grandfather, what we’re going to say?”

  “His message is very clear, Laurel,” Ben said, settling his Stetson on his head. “What we want are the details of what is wrong with him. Now we know why he was seen heading toward Phoenix.”

  “He went to keep an appointment with a doctor down there,” Dove said.

  “That’s my guess,” Ben said, nodding. “Let’s go.”

  “But—” Laurel said.

  “Laurel,” Ben said, “why are you hesitating, attempting to postpone going out there? We have to talk to him.”

  “But ganging up on him isn’t very respectful,” she said, a frantic edge to her voice. “Maybe just Dove should go because she’s his great-granddaughter. Family.”

  “We need you there, Laurel,” Dove said, her voice rising. “You’re a trained psychologist. You might hear something that is significant, and it could go right by me and Ben. Look how you understood what Eagle was doing in regard to Yazzie. What’s wrong with you? Don’t you want to try to help Grandfather?”

  “Of course I do, Dove,” Laurel said. “It’s just that I…” She glanced at Ben, who was studying her intensely. “But don’t count on me to be able to… Oh, never mind. Okay, okay, let’s go out there.”

  Ben collected the handheld and the trio left the office. Without speaking further, they got into their vehicles and began the procession to the reservation.

  Grandfather’s circular hogan was about a hundred yards beyond his trailer. It was a fairly good size and had been constructed many years before out of sweetgrass that still held a lingering aroma of vanilla and hard-packed mud.

  A rusted metal pipe was visible from the center of the top where smoke from a fire within was visible. A fire in a hogan was believed to be the Great Spirit of the Dinet, the People, believers in the old ways of the Navajos.

  Like all Navajo hogans, the opening faced east to enable the occupant to see the rising sun. The floor of a hogan was hardened mud and straw and was often covered by hand-woven rugs. As was acceptable, Grandfather had replaced a blanket with a wooden door to keep out some of the cold during the long winters.

  Laurel, Dove and Ben parked next to each other by Grandfather’s trailer and met in front of the vehicles, staring at the hogan in the distance. Ben swept his gaze over the trailer.

  “The windows are covered in boards,” he said quietly. “And the cinder blocks he used for steps have been moved away from the entrance. Grandfather no longer lives in the trailer, nor does he intend to return to it.”

  “Dear heaven,” Laurel whispered.

  Dove closed her eyes. “I won’t cry. I won’t cry. I won’t cry.” She opened her eyes again and drew a steadying breath. “Oh, I hope I don’t cry.”

  They walked to within twenty feet of the door to the hogan and stopped, as was Navajo custom.

  “Ya at eeh, Grandfather,” Ben called in greeting. “It’s Ben, Laurel and Dove. We are asking permission to enter your hogan.”

  Seconds ticked slowly by.

  “He’s not going to acknowledge us,” Laurel said quietly.

  “Be patient,” Ben said.

  A full minute passed in agonizing silence. Then the wooden door was pushed outward, although Grandfather did not appear in the doorway.

  “Okay,” Ben said, starting forward. “Here we go.”

  Ben and Dove went three feet, then realized that Laurel hadn’t moved. They turned to look back at her.

  “Laurel?” Dove said. “Are you coming?”

  “I…” Laurel wrapped her hands around her elbows as a shiver coursed through her. “Yes.”

  The three entered the hogan, which was large enough for even Ben to stand erect, and he pulled the door closed behind him.

  Grandfather was sitting cross-legged on a rug in front of a fire burning in a shallow pit in the center of the hogan, and his hands were resting on his knees as he stared into the flames.

  His silver hair was in two long braids hanging down his back, and he was wearing well-worn jeans, a long-sleeved faded flannel shirt and moccasins. His face was tanned and wrinkled beyond his heritage from years of being in the sun and wind.

  Around his neck on a rawhide thong strung with red, white and blue beads was the bronze code-talker medallion that fell to the center of his chest.

  “May we sit down, Grandfather?” Ben said.

  Grandfather nodded.

  The trio settled on a rug across from Grandfather, crossing their legs just as he was. Laurel and Dove sat on either side of Ben. The fire burned between them and Grandfather, causing them to look at him through the rising pale gray smoke. They slipped off their coats and allowed them to fall to the ground behind them. Dove opened her mouth to speak, but Ben reached over and touched her arm, shaking his head.

  They waited.

  “When you were children,” Grandfather said finally, still staring into the fire, “I smiled as I watched you play together outside my home. You were happy. Your laughter was carried by the wind and you brought me great joy.

  “Benjamin was Moasi, the cat, moving with ease in his body, comfortable even then with his manhood.

  “Dove was Naastsosi, the mouse, so timid at times, afraid to take risks, often backing away from a new game that was frightening to her.

  “Laurel was Dahetihhi, the hummingbird. So curious, flitting here, then there and farther, wishing to see all that life offered. Appearing very fragile yet having great strengths.

  “Do you remember those names of your childhood?”

  “Yes,” Ben and Dove said in unison as Laurel nodded.

  “Good, that is good,” Grandfather said. “Those names still belong to you, as they are true to who you are now, as well as then.”

  Grandfather stopped speaking and another heavy silence fell.

  “I have seen,” he said, after several long minutes, “the neasjah.”

  “No,” Dove said, fresh tears filling her eyes. “No, Grandfather, not the owl. Please don’t say…don’t say you saw the owl.”

  “There is no reason to feel sorrow, Dove,” Grandfather said. “Neasjah doesn’t alarm me. The message is clear and I’m prepared for what is to come. That’s why I have moved into my hogan. So someone will be able to make a home of my trailer when I am gone.”

  Dove sniffled and shook her head.

  “What ails you, Grandfather?” Ben said quietly.

  “The Navajos of old called it the wasting disease,” he said. “Now it is known as cancer.”

  “Can’t the doctors do something?” Ben said. “Surgery? Treatments of chemotherapy and radiation?”

  Grandfather nodded. “They wish to do those things, but I chose not to. I have pills for pain when it comes. No, I won’t have surgery or the harsh treatments they explained to me.”

  “Why not?” Ben said. “Cancer isn’t an automatic death sentence. What the doctors are proposing might save your life or at least give you more time to…”

  “Dooda. No.” Grandfather covered the code-talker medallion with one hand. “You must understand. I wish to die with dignity here on the land that I love, not in a cold, sterile hospital surrounded by strangers.

  “I am satisfied, at peace with my life, with what I have done. I don’t fear crossing the rainbow bridge that will take me from the human world to the other side and the life beyond.” He paused. “I wish to be alone now. I
’m tired. Thank you for your visit.”

  “But…” Dove said.

  “Not now, Dove,” Ben said, rising in a fluid motion. “It’s time for us to go. Hagoonee, Grandfather. Goodbye for now. We’ll see you again soon.”

  Grandfather nodded and closed his eyes.

  The three gathered their coats, then Ben led Dove from the hogan with Laurel following slowly behind. They walked in silence back to where they had parked their vehicles. Ben stepped in front of Laurel, his dark eyes flashing with anger.

  “You didn’t say one damn word while we were in that hogan, Laurel,” he said, his voice rough. “Nothing. It was obvious back in town that you didn’t even want to come out here. What’s the matter with you?”

  He pointed toward the hogan. “That’s Grandfather in there, Laurel. Our beloved Grandfather. You’re a psychologist, for God’s sake. You were taught how to reach people, like someone who initially refuses medical treatment for whatever they’ve been diagnosed with. Right? Damn straight.

  “But did you even attempt to reason with Grandfather? No. You just sat there like it was no big deal, as though you were bored out of your mind.”

  Ben spun around, strode three paces away then turned and came back to tower over Laurel, who pressed her lips tightly together and refused to meet his angry gaze.

  “Why didn’t I see this in you?” he said, his voice raspy. “You are so cold, so self-centered, so unfeeling. Is this what you learned in Virginia, Laurel? To care only about yourself?”

  “Ben, don’t,” Dove said, placing one hand on his arm. “You’re going to say things in the heat of the moment that you’ll regret later.”

  Ben shook off Dove’s hand. “I’m saying what needs to be said. I want answers, Laurel. Why are you refusing to talk to Grandfather, to use your knowledge, your training? Why? Why in the hell did you come back to Willow Valley if none of us mean anything to you now? How can you turn your back on our Grandfather?”

  Laurel covered her ears with her hands. “Leave me alone. You don’t understand why I can’t try to convince Grandfather to… You just don’t understand. And it’s none of your business why I came home to Willow Valley. Just leave me alone, Ben Skeeter. Don’t speak to me, don’t come near me. Not ever again. Not ever.”

  Laurel ran to her van and minutes later drove away, leaving a cloud of dust behind her.

  “Damn it,” Ben said, then made a fist and punched the side of his vehicle.

  “Ben, stop it,” Dove said. “I’ve never seen you act this way in all the years I’ve known you. Laurel didn’t deserve what you just did to her, the hateful things you said. You’re upset because Grandfather is going to die and has made his decision as to how he wishes to leave us. We’re all devastated about it, including Laurel.

  “You’re frustrated, feel helpless, because you know that nothing anyone says now will change Grandfather’s mind and you took out those emotions on Laurel.”

  “She might have been able to reach him, get through to him,” Ben said, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “She didn’t even try, Dove. She didn’t say one damn word to him in that hogan.”

  “There was nothing to say,” Dove said, her eyes filling with fresh tears. “Grandfather wants to die with dignity here on the reservation and that is exactly what he will do. We all have to respect him and his wishes. We have to, Ben. Laurel knew that. I don’t want to accept it, but I will and so will you.” She shook her head. “You owe Laurel an apology for lashing out at her like you did. You were wrong, Ben. I hope she’ll forgive you.”

  “I owe her an apology? Yeah, okay, maybe I was too rough on her just now, dumped how I was feeling on her, but what about how she just waltzed back into town and stirred up old memories and opened old wounds? How she refused to even explain why she’s here, how long she’s staying, what her plans are for the future? But I owe her an apology? Do you have any idea what it’s done to me to have Laurel back in Willow Valley, Dove? Do you?”

  “Yes,” she said softly. “I do, because you’re still in love with her, never stopped loving her during all the years she was gone. Did it ever occur to you how difficult it might be for her to have returned here? To see you, remember what you two had? Oh, never mind. You’re in no mood to listen to reason. You’re as stubborn as Grandfather.”

  “Why did she run home, Dove? Why did she leave Virginia like a…a frightened child, or whatever?”

  “I don’t know, Ben. She’s not ready to talk about it yet.”

  “She won’t tell you, but you still consider her your best friend?” he said, raising his eyebrows. “Don’t you get it? Her friendship, her love, is all done on her terms with no regard for other people’s feelings.”

  “I don’t believe that,” Dove said. “True friendship, true love, is patient. You’re the one who doesn’t get it, Ben. You want answers from Laurel now. You want Grandfather to undergo treatment for his cancer. You want, you want, you want. You’d feel better if people would do things your way, so why don’t they just shut up and do it? You’d better take a long look at yourself, Benjamin Skeeter, and get your head on straight.”

  Ben stared up at the sky for a long moment, then looked at Dove again.

  “Everything is a mess, just totally screwed up,” he said. “My mind is like a jumbled maze and nothing makes sense right now.”

  “Would you like to get out of the cold and come to my house for some tea? We could talk about all of this.”

  “No,” Ben said. “Thanks, but I’m going to have to work through all this on my own. Besides, I have to get back to town and see Doc Willie.”

  “Doc Willie?” Dove said, frowning. “Why?”

  “Because when I pitched my fit,” he said, grimacing, “threw my less-than-mature tantrum and clobbered my vehicle, I broke my damn hand.”

  The next day was Friday. Then Saturday arrived, and by noon everyone in Willow Valley realized that their fears had come true. The tourists had heard that the autumn leaves were no longer on the trees to be enjoyed as a glorious, beautiful gift from nature. They would not return to Willow Valley until the snow came and enough had fallen to make it possible to ski.

  Word had also spread about Grandfather’s illness and his decision to live out his remaining days in the hogan. Gifts of food, beads, feathers, blankets and baskets were left outside the wooden door of the hogan, but no one disturbed him by asking to come inside. They watched for the smoke to continue to rise from the center of the hogan as a sign that Grandfather was still with them.

  A dozen different stories circulated as to how Sheriff Skeeter broke his right hand; some tales were outrageous, but Ben Skeeter had nothing to say on the subject.

  A state of gloom settled over the town and the reservation. People were saddened by the news of Grandfather as well as worried beyond measure about the lack of revenue that the shortened fall tourist season meant.

  Laurel told her mother that it wasn’t fair for Laurel to work at the Windsong Café and take hours from the regular employees when there were only the locals eating there. Jane reluctantly agreed that there wasn’t money enough to pay Laurel when she really wasn’t needed on the staff.

  Laurel spent hours in her bedroom, reliving the scene with Ben outside Grandfather’s hogan, unable to quiet the sound of Ben’s angry words that beat against her mind over and over again. On Sunday evening she told her mother what Ben had accused her of after they’d seen Grandfather.

  “I didn’t intend to burden you with this,” Laurel said, sitting on one end of the sofa while her mother sat on the other. “It’s just that I’m driving myself crazy, hearing Ben’s words slamming against my brain and…” She shook her head.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” Jane said, “nothing you might have said to Grandfather would have changed his mind. We all have to respect his wishes. Ben will come to understand that in time.”

  “That’s not the point,” Laurel said, throwing up her hands. “I didn’t say anything to Grandfather, not even that I understood and respec
ted his choice. Mother, I froze. I was so terrified that I’d say the wrong thing to him that I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t. I didn’t say how much I loved him, would miss him…nothing. Grandfather must think the same things of me that Ben does. That I’m self-centered, don’t care—”

  “That’s enough,” Jane interrupted. “We’re talking about Grandfather, remember? He is the wisest man I have ever known.” She smiled. “Even wiser than your father, I’ll have you know. Grandfather has no doubts in his heart as to how you feel about him. Shame on you for thinking otherwise. Grandfather deserves better than that from you.”

  Laurel wrapped her hands around her elbows and nodded. “You’re right. Yes, of course, you’re right. But Ben…never mind.”

  “Ben needs to hear the truth of why you returned to Willow Valley, the truth of what happened in Virginia, Laurel. Your silence is becoming a high and dangerous wall between the two of you. You were reaching out to each other at long last, and now? Oh, yes, it’s a very dangerous wall, indeed.”

  “I wish I could talk to Grandfather about Ben, about Virginia,” Laurel said. “He was always there for me, especially after Dad died. But I can’t bother him with my problems. Not now, with him being so ill.”

  “Oh, my darling girl, you are so wrong,” Jane said. “Grandfather would be honored to feel that you still believe in his wisdom even though his body is failing him. Go to him. If he’s in pain or too tired when you visit, he’ll tell you to come another time. You know Grandfather is there for you. You believe that in your heart, Laurel. You do. I believe in my heart that he knows you are troubled and he’s waiting for you.”

  “I… Oh, I don’t know what to do.”

  “Think about it. At least promise me that you’ll think about going to your Grandfather.”

  “Yes, I’ll think about it.”

  “Good. That’s something, at least, on my side of the scorecard.” Jane paused, then laughed softly. “Billy told me that he knows for a fact that Grandfather’s horse bit Ben’s hand and broke it.”