Speak to the Wind

by Mary Tate Engels

  Another two weeks passed until she heard from him. This time it wasn't personal. His message came in a polite but clearly stated form letter. Maria sat at her desk, staring at the sheet. She didn't know whether to cry or scream obscenities. Or both. She made a couple of phone calls, one to her mother, the other to her corporate lawyer. But she received no satisfaction.

  "Excuse me, Maria." Letty entered with a steaming cup of coffee and set it on the corner of the desk. She'd been around long enough to know when her boss was upset. "Um, you okay?"

  Maria pressed her lips together. She would not cry. But she might vent some steam. "Close the door, please, Letty."

  The older woman, who had been a friend as well as a secretary for three and a half years, crossed the room and quietly shut the door. Then she sat in the chair where she usually took dictation or exchanged information about a client. "Can I help with anything, Maria?"

  “Probably not," Maria muttered cryptically. "But since you asked, you can listen."

  Letty smiled gently. “I’m good at listening."

  "Read this." Maria flipped Letty the page with the impressive High Meadow Apache logo across the top.

  Letty read the paper quietly, then let it drop to the desk. "This means your cabin, doesn't it?"

  Maria nodded. "My family's cabin, the one my father built. The place I've loved for years, where I've always vacationed—escaped to. How can they do this to us? Why, there are several hundred cabins around that lake."

  "They can't displace everyone, can they?"

  "Oh, yes. I wasn't the only one to receive this letter. I've already talked to a couple of our neighbors. They received the same letter and have been in touch with the president of our neighborhood association of leaseholders to see if there's something we can do."

  "Well, what are your rights?"

  "I don't really know. I've read the original contract that Dad signed so many years ago, and it's full of legalese gibberish. The only things I understand are the terms of the lease. That is, the amount we pay and the services they provide. It's pretty straightforward."

  "Hasn't the original contract been renegotiated?"

  "Not the entire original. Amendments changed the fees with each renewal, which the leaseholders have always agreed to and paid with no hassle." Maria's voice grew harsher. "And now that the Apache have their so-called 'new blood' in as chairman with all his fancy new ideas, they hit us up with this."

  "I have a feeling that's what's bothering you the most, Maria," Letty said gently. "The fact that Joe's the 'new blood,' and that he's behind this whole thing. Think about it from his view, a business view."

  "Look, it's my cabin, and I don't want to lose it. It's as simple as that, Letty. Why, I have so many wonderful memories connected with that place that it would be like losing a part of the family. I'd be furious no matter who—"

  "But you and I know that without Joe's influence, the Apache probably wouldn't be doing this right now. Joe is their leader, and he's in charge of this project."

  "All right. Hell, yes, I'm angry about it!" Maria pushed herself to her feet and paced beside the double windows. "I'm damned angry that Joe would do such a thing... to me. And I'm... hurt." She rubbed her hand over her face as if to wipe her hurt feelings away. But it didn't work. "I don't know what to do. I feel so helpless."

  "Have you talked to Joe?"

  "A little. It's useless. He's convinced this is best for his people. He won't even listen to my side anymore."

  "Well, it's probably a lousy suggestion, considering your, uh, relationship with Joe, but..." Letty paused and looked up at Maria.

  "What?" Maria whirled around. Her anger had crowded out logic and love, and right now all she wanted to do was lash out. "There is no relationship, Letty. This has undermined everything. I haven't seen him in weeks. So what were you going to say?"

  Letty weighed her thoughts, then proceeded slowly. "The only thing I can think for you to do is to fight, especially if you think you've been wronged, Maria."

  "Fight? You mean legal action." She sighed. She hadn't really wanted to fight that hard. “I’ve talked to our corporate lawyer. He said he’d look into it, but doesn’t see any way out.”

  “Talk to someone else. How about David Ingram, the one who’s on TV?”

  Maria shook her head in disgust. “He’d probably take it for the publicity alone.”

  “So? Maybe you can file a class action suit, one that will include the other cabin owners."

  A gleam lit Maria's dark eyes as she felt a renewal of spirit. "Hey, that might work, after all, Letty.”

  “At least, it would be an embarrassment to the tribe when this gets out.”

  “You know, I threatened to sue but didn't follow up on it. Now, why not? They've pushed me to the limit. A class action suit might be the best way to go. Get David on the phone and set up an appointment. Also the president of our neighborhood association. She's listed under, uh..."

  "I know." Letty headed for the door. "High Meadow Lake."

  Maria rubbed her hands together. "This will show them they can't push us around. Won't Joe be surprised when the whole tribe is hit with a lawsuit from every cabin owner !"

  Two days later, Maria sat across from David Ingram's desk, her arms folded, her mouth set. "So what's the angle, David. Do we have the grounds to sue?"

  David leafed through the file of papers Maria had delivered previously for his analysis. "In a word, Maria, no."

  "What?" She sat upright, her brown eyes snapping. "Then I'll get someone else to do this. Someone with enough guts to go against the Indians."

  "Go ahead, but you'll run into the same problem. Unless someone takes you for a legal ride."

  “What about the potential publicity? Wouldn’t you like that?”

  He glared at her. “No. Not in this case.”

  She sighed and slumped back in the chair. A weak smile of apology crossed her face. "Sorry, David. I didn't mean to doubt you. I guess I had my hopes up too much."

  "I warned you on the phone, Maria."

  "I know, but I'm just so..."

  "Disturbed." He smiled sympathetically. "But it's understandable."

  "I was going to say desperate." Actually, she felt distraught as David crushed her hopes.

  "Look, Maria. I would love the challenge of a case like this, if I felt there were sufficient grounds for winning. But there aren't. I'd only make a fool of myself and cost you a lot of money. The facts are that the Indians own the land. And they want it back. In the letter they're giving you the option of taking what you own, which is the cabin. If you refuse that option, the cabin becomes theirs when your lease expires in one year. And they can do with it what they wish. Use it or tear it down."

  "That's not fair!"

  "But they're giving you fair warning. They're giving you the option. They're saying, in effect, Please take your cabin. We don't want it.'"

  Maria swallowed hard. "You're sure, David?"

  The young lawyer adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses. "I'm sure, Maria. Plain and clear."

  "Only if you understand legal doublespeak," she mumbled, feeling herself sink into a bottomless abyss. "So I'm caught?"

  "Not entirely. If I were you, Maria, I'd move the cabin to another property. And make sure you own it outright this time."

  "Move it?" She sighed and considered the thought seriously for the first time. "Move it. Yes, that's what I'll do. I'll have the cabin moved." She stood and shook hands with renewed determination. "Thanks, David. I'll move it."

  A week later, Maria donned a yellow hard hat and hiked over clods of dry, freshly grated earth. "Mr. Baumbauer, I got your message, but I wanted to speak to you in person about this."

  The heavyset man wearing a matching yellow hard hat and dirt-streaked khaki shirt stared at her. "What're you doing out here, lady?"

  "I'm Maria Eden," she amended, thinking this was no way to conduct business. But when one was desperate, one didn't think about protocol. "We talked on the phone s
everal times. I'm the one who called to see if you could move my cabin from High Meadow."

  "Oh, yes." He grinned. "Nice cabin, Ms. Eden. Real sturdy."

  "Did you actually go up there and inspect everything, Mr. Baumbauer—"

  "Look, nobody calls me mister. You call me Butch."

  "Butch, then." She looked at him impatiently. "I'm very distressed that you think it's too much of a risk."

  "My foreman and I inspected that place personally. It's solid as a mountain."

  "Apparently you don't understand, Butch. I must have that cabin moved. Must." She felt as though she was hyperventilating, but maybe it was just the wind at the construction site. "I have to have it moved. If I don't, the Indians are going to destroy it."

  "Real sorry. Can't."

  "What do you mean, can't? It's impossible?"

  "Naw, it ain't that. Nothing's impossible. But it's gonna cost you a pretty penny. Other problem is, I can't guarantee the whole damned thing wouldn't fall apart if I tried to take it. My insurance won't cover such a risk. If it was mine, I wouldn't take the chance."

  "But you're moving the Banks’ cabin, and the Fredericks’. They both recommended you highly." Maria's voice was a whine picked up by the wind and whisked away.

  "Theirs is made different. Here, let me show you," Butch said, putting a pencil to the page on his clipboard. He started to draw, and Maria could tell right away it was a crude sketch of her cabin. "Here's the problem. That damned thing—uh, excuse me, ma'am—that cabin is made so well that if we tried to move it, why it might just crack right down the middle. Here—" he drew arrows "—or here. It's constructed of a variety of materials, mostly logs and rocks, which won't hang together when we start messing around with 'em. Now you could move it log by log, but that's gonna cost you what two cabins are worth."

  "I... I can't afford that."

  "Most of us can't. Anyway, that fireplace is built to last forever. It has to stay where it's planted."

  Maria gazed bleakly at the sketches. She blinked back tears. Butch's company had been recommended as one of the best movers. His was the third to tell her the same thing. She had to believe them, had to accept their evaluations. But it hurt. "So the fireplace is there forever, unless someone comes along and tears it down."

  "Yep." Butch nodded matter-of-factly.

  "Dammit, Butch!"

  He gave her a quick look of surprise. "Yes, ma'am. Sorry about that. I was hoping we could do business. Now if you have anything else that needs—" He halted when Maria wheeled around. Shoving his hard hat back with his thumb, he watched her hike out of the construction site.

  Maria swatted blindly at her tears. Now what? She knew. When one was desperate, it called for desperate action.

  Maria jerked her blue Honda to a stop beside the shiny, apple-red SUV in the parking lot. There was no other alternative, no one else to turn to. She had tried working within the system. When all her attempts failed, she felt defeated. Now she was willing to do anything. She would try one final appeal. Swallowing her pride, she stomped up the steps to the High Meadow Apache Tribal Building.

  “I’m Maria Eden," she said to the woman at the front desk. "I have an appointment with J—, er, with Mr. Quintero."

  "Right this way."

  Maria followed the dark-haired woman and squared her shoulders just before entering the office at the end of the hallway. She thought she was prepared for seeing Joe again, but the sight of him was like a punch in the stomach, a whirlwind that took her breath. She stared at him for a moment, gathering her resources, reaching deep inside for her anger. She thought she'd discarded her emotional attachment to him long ago, but it clouded her vision again.

  "Joe..."

  "Maria..."

  Joe stood up behind the large desk when she entered the room. He looked devastating in a white dress shirt with the collar open and the sleeves casually rolled up to his elbows. His copper skin and dark hair matched those people around him now. He seemed to belong in this office filled with artifacts and remnants of his Apache ancestry. A large burden basket hung in the corner, a group of coiled baskets decorated one wall near a prayer stick with eagle feathers. Reminders of his past and of the future.

  Yet there was something different in his sharp, ebony eyes that caught her attention. Something poignant and grave. And as her eyes inadvertently traveled over him, she thought he seemed a little slimmer than when they were in Mexico where she'd seen—and felt—his bare body on a daily basis. The memory sent a flush through her.

  He licked his lips and spoke in a hushed voice. "Please have a seat. It's good to see you. You look... beautiful, as always, Maria."

  She ignored his attempt at dredging up old feelings and strode into the room, assuming an air of indifference. But it was all part of an act because she certainly didn't feel it. She wanted to ask if he'd lost weight, but instead said, "You seem to have taken your job as chairman seriously. Already moving and shaking, I see."

  "I take my position very seriously, Maria. I thought you understood that all along."

  "If I didn't realize your dedication before, you've made it perfectly clear now."

  "Right." He pursed his lips and nodded. "Would you like coffee or something to drink?"

  "No, thank you. I'm here on business. Nothing more."

  "I see." He dropped back down into his chair and kept his gaze steadily on her. "How... how are you?"

  Her face tightened. "As if you care."

  "I do."

  "Do you really care what happens to me?"

  "Of course!" He leaned forward urgently, his forearms resting on the desk. "Maria, some things haven't changed. My feelings—"

  "Then prove it by helping me." She gripped her purse as the words tumbled out. "Help me save my cabin, Joe. You're the only one I can turn to. And you're in a position to do something."

  "Maria, the council voted—"

  "I've heard that before," she said, interrupting with a wave of her hand. Leaning forward, she continued her barrage of words. "You can do something if you will. You are my last resort, Joe. I've been to my lawyer. Yes, I considered suing," she said bitterly when he looked surprised. "Oh, God, how I wanted to. It would have given me great pleasure to see you back down." She thought it would give her pleasure to see him squirm. But there was no pleasure in this. He wasn't squirming. And she was begging.

  "Are you going to sue?"

  "Unfortunately, no. My lawyer says you're covered in the original contract. So that idea went down the tubes."

  “Too bad your pleasure was foiled," Joe muttered, leaning back in his chair. “But, a relief, too.”

  "Next I talked to three different contractors about moving the cabin, like you suggested in your damned eviction letter. Some of my neighbors are already making such plans."

  "Unfortunately it's the only way."

  "I even picked out a lot near Show Low and was on the verge of buying it," she recounted with a mocking chuckle. "But they can't move my cabin because of the way it's constructed. Too sturdy, wouldn't you know? I could do more harm than good trying to move it. The best they could do would be to dismantle the whole thing and reconstruct it on another lot for a fee well above its actual worth." She paused for a breath. "But that's far beyond my funding ability. Piles of rocks and logs would probably lie on the lot for years before I could make them into a cabin again. So I'm asking for your help."

  "Would you like to borrow money, Maria? I'll be glad—"

  "No, I don't want your money! I want you to change the plans. Set your project somewhere else. Do something to preserve the lake residences."

  He spread his hands. "Maria, I can't."

  "You mean you won't."

  "No. I can't. The project has been drawn up into a formal proposal, complete with goals and functions, a schedule of constructing each stage and projections for the future. It's out of my hands. Other people are working on it. We have a project director. The architect is working on a mock-up now. The first drawings are com
plete."

  "My house will be destroyed, Joe." She paused and choked down a sob. "Don't you care about that?"

  "Yes, of course."

  "You helped fight the fire to save it last year! And now you're going to stand by and let it be demolished?"

  "I had no idea it would come to this. I thought you would be able to move it."

  "How could you let this happen so fast? Why, you weren't in office a month when your secretary efficiently sent out the eviction notices."

  "Those letters weren't eviction notices. They were carefully worded so as to ease this process as much as possible. And give you a year’s time to get it done."

  "How considerate of you. At any rate, you've lost no time in getting right to work on this. The sooner the better, I suppose."

  "I did not try to rush this, Maria. Things were happening with McAndrew. We had to do something. Now was just the time."

  "I don't know why I thought you would help me, Joe."

  "Maria, you're thinking of one person, yourself. I have to think of a whole community of people. I'm concerned with their welfare, with their future. That's what this is all about."

  "Obviously you don't give a damn about my future. Or ours."

  "Yes, I do. I hoped you'd listen. Because you've lived up here, I thought you'd understand. I want to work this out."

  "Understand? I'm losing something intensely important to me, a part of my past—my life—that will never be the same again, and you act as if I should be gracious and generous. Sorry, Joe." She stood and walked steadily to the door.

  "So am I, Maria." He watched her go, feeling like the biggest heel in the world. He wore the heavy weight of leadership square on his shoulders, but with a great sadness in his heart.

  Even after all this time and the bitter words exchanged between them, he knew that what he felt for this woman was love. Love beyond reason and understanding. And he was losing that love because of something he'd originated and directed. And he could do nothing to stop either.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It had been a scorcher all week with temperatures over 110 degrees for five straight days. The news medias all led their newscast with the local weather. Maria was tired of the heat and tired of hearing about it. She played some cool music, thinking she should be in the White Mountains right now. This was when she usually took a break from Phoenix's incessant heat and escaped to the cabin. Her time there was limited, so why was she staying away?