by T. Isilwath
“Some secrets are too big,” she countered gently, not wanting to argue.
“It is not my place to get involved, but it is obvious that you are in great pain, and I have heard that Crow Dancing has disappeared. Whatever troubles passed between you, you must ask yourself if they are worth leaving behind all you have built together. Yours was a joining blessed by the Great Spirit, and we are all saddened to see your suffering. If there is a way to see through the darkness, I pray that you both will find it.”
She tried not to react when Dan told her that Michael had disappeared. Her first thought was that Akihiro had cast off the illusion completely and become someone else, but then a little chill of fear ran up her spine, and she wondered if there was a more sinister reason.
‘Did he hurt himself? Has he gone somewhere else? Has he gone back to Japan?’ “Thank you for your concern, Three Feathers. I will take your words under consideration,” she said gently.
Dan nodded. “Thank you. That is all I ask.”
“I know that you speak to me out of love, and you do not wish to hurt me.”
“Yes. Both you and Crow Dancing are dear to our hearts. We are saddened by your parting, and we hope that you will be able to resolve your differences.”
‘Resolve our differences? Somehow I doubt that.’ “We will see what the future brings,” she answered.
“That is all I ask. Thank you.”
She gave a grunt of acknowledgement and rested her forehead against the window, trying to block out everything, including her own thoughts. Dan kept silent for the rest of the trip and Elisi slept most of the way. She was fine with that because it meant she was left alone to sort out her own tangled soul.
Returning to staring out the window, she tried not to think about Michael or what Dan had said. She tried not to think about what the future held for her now or if she had made the right decisions. She just focused on the darkening sky, the trees cloaked in twilight shadows, and the smattering of stars that could be visible with all the light pollution surrounding them. She tried not to think about how spectacular the night sky had been in Feudal Japan, and she doubted that she would ever see a sky so dark or so pristine again.
She tried not to think about Akihiro or Kaemon or Suzuka. Of the three that came to mind, two were most certainly dead and had been for centuries. She tried not to think about Akihiro living over 400 years to find her again only to have her reject him. She tried not to think about anything at all.
She did not succeed.
Chapter Thirty-Three
On Wednesday, December 5th, only twenty days before Christmas, she got a call from Colonel Pyle’s secretary. Apparently, she was wanted at Fort Bragg for a meeting, and someone would be arriving at 0600 hours Thursday morning to drive her back to the base. She wanted to tell the woman exactly what she thought about the request, but she refrained from cursing in front of Elisi.
She packed a bag, knowing that a “request” could easily become a “demand,” and it was just as easy for him to send Military Police as it was for him to send an ordinary driver. She wasn’t happy about it, and she certainly wasn’t happy with the lack of forewarning, but she was coming to understand that the Army did things in their own way and their own time.
And perhaps getting away (even if it was to Fort Bragg) was just what she needed. After the trip to Duke, and her conversation with Dan Three Feathers, she’d been in a state of turmoil and confusion. As her initial anger faded, she began to view the situation with more perspective. She was still mad (she was still really mad), but the edge was coming off her ire, and she started asking herself questions, questions only Akihiro could answer.
She’d called him. Or tried to at least. It had been late at night after they’d gotten back from Duke, and the conversation she’d had with Dan had been fresh in her mind. She’d picked up the phone and dialed the number of the apartment in Cullowhee before she could stop herself. Her heart had been pounding as she heard the other end ring, and ring, and ring, until the answering machine picked up. She hung up before the machine had a chance to play its recording, and dialed Michael’s new cell phone number, but there was no answer there either.
She was concerned at first, because she remembered Dan telling her that Michael had disappeared, but then she reasoned that he was probably hurting as well, and he’d gone off somewhere, most likely to wherever it was that he went every September for his yearly retreat; although where he went was now a matter of intrigue, and she wondered what he actually did when he was gone during those weeks. She resolved not to worry about it, and she was actually relieved because she hadn’t been certain what she would have said to him if he had answered. She decided to try again after she had returned from Fort Bragg.
She had other things to worry about anyway, like wondering why Colonel Pyle wanted to see her, and imagining all kinds of horrors to upset herself: like maybe they had been watching and they knew about Akihiro. Maybe they had suspected her fox would try to contact her, and they’d been waiting for him to reveal himself. Maybe they’d been followed. Maybe there had been a hidden camera in the room. Maybe some techno-geek had been sitting in a black van somewhere on the Biltmore Estate with a satellite dish and listening equipment, recording the whole thing. Maybe they’d secretly injected a microchip under her skin when she was in their custody. Maybe they knew her every move…
She worked herself up into a panic attack, and she had to do breathing exercises she’d learned a decade ago in therapy to calm herself down. Had Michael been there, he would have recognized the signs and stopped her before she got herself too upset. But Michael wasn’t there and she had to do it herself.
God, she missed him so much.
Thursday morning dawned wet and ugly. Elisi had coffee ready by the time she had dragged herself out of her warm bed at O-Dark-Thirty for a shower before whoever came to pick her up arrived. Elisi gave her a scarf to tie around her head to hold back her hair because she was finding it hard to manage her chopped locks. She’d had long hair all her life, and not having enough hair to even make a ponytail was going to require some adjusting.
There was a knock at the door at exactly 6am, she got up to answer it, and she was shocked to find Private Begay standing on the porch.
“Ya-tah-hey,” the Navajo greeted in Dineh. He was smiling broadly.
“Private Begay,” she answered, opening the door wide. “I’m so surprised to see you! So you’re my driver?”
He shrugged. “I volunteered. I don’t mind driving. At least here the roads are paved.”
She laughed and invited him in. “Come in. Have some coffee and meet my grandmother.”
“You cut your hair,” the young man noted with a bit of surprise.
“Yeah,” she replied, self-consciously pushing back a lock of hair.
Private Begay frowned, but made no comment as he removed his cap and crossed the threshold into the house. Elisi met him at the entrance to the kitchen.
“O’siyo,” she said. “Welcome to my home.”
“Ya-tah-hey, Grandmother. Thank you for your hospitality.”
“Come sit at the table. There is coffee and cornbread.” Private Begay shook his head sadly. “We can only stay a few minutes, but I thank you for the coffee.”
“You are welcome.”
Elisi gave Private Begay a cup of coffee and he took a sip.
“Ah, a woman who knows her coffee. Black, no sugar. Perfect.” Elisi smiled and gave her a look that said she liked the young man. She smiled back. A few moments later, he finished the coffee and turned to her.
“I hope you packed an overnight bag because I’m not due to bring you back until tomorrow,” he said.
“I figured as much so I made sure I was prepared,” she answered, indicating the small, black bag by the door.
“Are you ready then?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Let’s go.”
He led the way and she followed, grabbing her bag on the way out.<
br />
“Be safe, Child,” her grandmother said, seeing her off.
She kissed the old woman on the temple and gave her a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow. And if you hear from Michael, please tell him I’d like to talk to him.”
A grateful look came into her grandmother’s eyes. “I will, Child. Please call me when you arrive so I know you got there safely.”
“I have my cell phone and charger. I’ll be sure to call tonight.”
“Thank you.”
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Grandmother,” Private Begay said as he put his cap back on.
“And you. Come again to my home. You are welcome here,” Elisi replied.
“Thanks. I might drop by just for the coffee!”
Elisi laughed and shooed them off.
“Bye!” she called as she got into the passenger side of the Jeep Private Begay was driving. He put it in gear and they drove off.
“Did you have a good visit home?” she asked him.
“Yes, I did. It was nice to see everyone.”
“Did your grandma make frybread?”
He chuckled. “Of course.”
She smiled and laughed.
The rest of the trip to Fort Bragg was spent in pleasant company. She kept the conversation on neutral subjects and avoided speaking about her own personal issues. Private Begay, in keeping with Navajo culture, didn’t ask for any information she did not willingly volunteer. She’d been betting on that, and she was grateful that she’d been correct, because the last thing she wanted was to answer questions about Michael or why she had cut her hair.
“So… have you heard anything about why Colonel Pyle wanted to see me?” she asked nonchalantly.
“No, I’m sorry, I haven’t.”
“I did have my first appointment at Duke University Eye Center on Tuesday,” she admitted.
“I’m betting Duke called his office and he wants to talk about it with you.”
“If that’s so, why not just call me? Why send you all the way to pick me up and bring me there?”
“Confidentiality,” the young Navajo explained. “If you’re in his office, he doesn’t have to worry about who might be listening in.” She gulped. “Am I under surveillance?”
“Aren’t we all?” he answered cryptically. “I have an uncle who won’t come down from the hills because he doesn’t want to be videotaped by all the government cameras, and he tries to leave his hogan only at night so they can’t take his picture from space. I didn’t have the heart to tell him the satellites have night scopes.”
“One nation, under surveillance,” she quipped.
“Welcome to post-9/11 America, Ms. Tindall. All the rules have changed.”
“Don’t I know it,” she answered drolly.
Private Begay responded with a humorous laugh that made her wonder if he didn’t know more than he was letting on. Once again she considered the possibility that he might be a spy sent to find out if she could be trusted to keep her secrets. He might have been joking, but everyone knew that things had changed after the attacks on 9/11. America was much more vigilant and suspicious (and with good reason), but there were those who took vigilance into the realm of paranoia and wanton fear-mongering. Unfortunately, she was well aware that the knowledge she kept in her head was extremely dangerous, and the government had every right to make certain that she did not leak her information to the wrong person. But it made her feel as if she was being constantly watched, and that did nothing to assuage her misgivings about Akihiro’s safety.
Perhaps Private Begay’s uncle had the right idea.
What to do if Akihiro’s “cover” had been blown was something she hadn’t decided. She was still angry, but she would never give him up to the military or the NSA just because she was mad at him. With him not answering either the apartment phone or his cell phone, however, she had no way of warning him of the danger. Besides, she had no illusions that someone hadn’t tapped her cell phone and could listen in whenever they liked. Without some way of safely communicating with him, she knew she couldn’t take a chance of someone overhearing their conversation. Then she reasoned that, if he’d managed to survive over 400 years, he could probably take care of himself, and he didn’t need her worrying about him.
She remembered the reception clerk at the Biltmore, and how her attitude had changed after she had read the account listed on the reservation Akihiro had made. It was obviously a name the woman had recognized, but she didn’t know whether it was someone Akihiro knew or Akihiro himself under a different alias. He had said it was a friend, and if he’d been telling the truth, it was an influential friend. Maybe that friend was powerful enough to offer Akihiro some protection. Maybe that was where he was now since he wasn’t answering his phone.
She mulled it over as Private Begay drove, allowing the conversation to fall into silence on occasion as she stared out the window. One of the things she loved most about the Native people was that most of them did not mind silence.
Anglos seemed to hate it, and filled the air with useless prattle, but Indians didn’t shun the quiet. Silence allowed you to listen, and she knew there was precious little of that in the world. So Norman didn’t say anything when the conversation stopped, and it allowed her time to really think about what she was going to do once she got to Fort Bragg.
They arrived at the military installation shortly before 11am. She was hungry and needed to eat, so she asked Norman to take her to the mess hall so she could buy a lunch. She’d been hyper-vigilant about her blood sugar ever since she’d gotten it back under control, especially since strict control reduced the risk of complications, and she wasn’t about to backslide now. Private Begay took her to the cafeteria she had eaten in the last time she had been to Fort Bragg, and he bought her a turkey sandwich on his i.d. card. She promised to pay him back for the food, but he refused.
Her meeting with Colonel Pyle wasn’t until 1300 hours so she had just under two hours to kill before she had to go up to his office, and the more she stewed, the more anxious she became. She was working herself up to a nice panic attack when Norman grasped her arm and made her focus on him.
“You really just need to relax,” he told her gently.
“Yeah, I know,” she nervously agreed.
He gave her a serious look, then pointed with his chin. “C’mon.” She followed him as he led her out of the main building and across the grounds to a copse of trees with a picnic table. She relaxed as soon as she was out in the open air, and she gave him a grateful smile.
“Thanks.”
He grunted and nodded, then passed the table and sat cross-legged underneath the trees, placing his hands into his lap and closing his eyes. She joined him, imitating his position, and they sat together in silence. She breathed slowly through her nose and opened herself up to the voice of the trees. They didn’t have much to say, but they were content, and their contentment bled into her.
Time slowed down while she was communing with the trees, and she didn’t know an hour had passed until Norman’s watch beeped to alert him that it was noon. She came out of her light trance sometime later and opened her eyes to see him looking at her. It was odd because he didn’t break eye contact when their eyes met, and she cocked her head curiously.
“What is it?” she asked.
He gave her a slow smile and a tingle ran up her spine. It was a familiar feeling and she creased her brow. He wasn’t Akihiro (she knew his Feel very well), but there was definitely a tingle of Other coming from him. She opened her mouth to speak, but he silenced her by putting a finger to his lips, and she stopped immediately.
“You need to relax, Ms. Tindall. Everything is going to be fine,” he told her, but the words now held multiple layers of meaning.
“Okay,” she answered, strangely comforted.
His smile widened and he winked at her.
“Belaganas don’t get it, do they? They think the world is dead. Little do they know it’s much more alive than they could ever imagin
e,” he said quietly with a hint of humor.
“The Little People?” she prompted, hoping it was a safe enough subject.
Private Begay grinned and looked up at the trees. “Oh, they’re around.
Invisible to the eye of most people, but there if you know where to look.”
“I see. Can you see them?”
“Sometimes. When they want to be seen.”
There was so much that she wanted to ask him, and she wondered if he would answer. Still, knowing that he was at least partially Other himself reassured her that at least someone there might be able to help her if things started to go wrong. But if he was Other, and under some form of illusion, there was no telling if he was actually Private Begay and not someone assuming his likeness.
“Are you the Norman I met the last time I was here?” she questioned.
“I am and I am not. I only come out when it’s necessary. He knows I am here. I had a partnership with a close friend of his who was mortally wounded in battle in Iraq. Private Begay agreed to become my host so that I would not die as well. We are partners of a sort, but I live in him, and we are two separate beings sharing the same body,” he replied matter-of-factly.
“You’re a symbiote,” she blurted.
“And you’ve been reading too many science-fiction novels,” he responded with a reproving look.
“Michael was a big Star Trek fan when we were teenagers,” she explained.
Private Begay laughed and nodded. “I understand. Gene Roddenberry: a man way ahead of his time and privy to information far too close to reality than many of us were ever comfortable with.”
“So you’re glad he’s up there, orbiting the earth in his Space Urn?” she commented, looking up at the sky.
“Oh, he burned up in the atmosphere years ago,” he said with amusement.
“You do know that you’ve just crushed the fantasies of millions of Trekkies all over the world,” she teased.
“Hey, far be it from me to explain the concept of gravity to them. They ought to know anyway. How many times did the Enterprise get caught in the gravitational pull of a planet and almost crash?”
