When Mountains Move

by Julie Cantrell

  “Bed rest?” I try to remind the doctor I’m in the room.

  “Yes, Millie. You need to stay off your feet.”

  “For how long?”

  “Until the baby arrives.” He begins to pack his supplies.

  “Months?” I don’t point out I’m actually due in December, long before anyone expects.

  “You’ll be lucky if you make it that far,” the doctor states. “In fact, you’ll be lucky if you make it through the night. We’re probably looking at a placental abruption. There’s really nothing more I can do, Millie. I’m sorry.”

  “There has to be somethin’ we can do,” Bump argues.

  “Sure there is,” Doc says. “Pray.”

  Chapter 17

  It’s been two weeks since I was kicked by the angry roan, and now the whole world is tinted gold. The aspen leaves have yellowed, blazing a stark contrast against their bright white bark, and the elk have shown up to compete for attention, slamming their antlers together with brute force as the rut begins. Wildflower season is nearly at a close, and except for a few remaining asters, the blooms have all blown away in the wind.

  “Sorry you got stuck upstairs,” I tell Janine, full of guilt that I’ve taken the only bed and left my guests scattered around the house on floor pallets.

  “Nothing to worry about,” Janine assures me. “Oka and I are becoming quite cozy as roommates.” She laughs.

  “I can’t believe you’re leaving in the morning,” I tell her. “Seems like you just got here.”

  “I’ve been waiting to give this to you.” Janine hands me a package. “It’s from Camille.” I take my time, careful not to ruin the pretty blue paper. Inside, I find a beautiful leather photo album with pictures taken from all around Iti Taloa.

  “Scoot,” Janine says, climbing into bed beside me. “This’ll be fun.”

  “Where’s Oka?” I lean to peek out the window but don’t see her in the garden. Oka has not stopped working since she arrived. She cooks, cleans, gardens, and tends the goats and chickens while Janine keeps me laughing, telling stories about the rodeo crew and filling me in on life back home. “Working?”

  Janine shrugs. “Where else?”

  We flip the pages together, stopping at each image and laughing as a flood of memories fills the room. “I used to spend hours in that library.” I show Janine a photo of the two-story redbrick building where I spent many a rainy day.

  “Never been in there,” Janine says. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. I turn the page to find something Janine might recognize.

  “Our family’s cabin.” I point.

  “Yep, I was there, remember? The day you fell from the tree.”

  “That’s right.” I put the events back together in my mind, the ones that led me here.

  “And that was Sloth’s cabin.” I flip the book sideways to show the right perspective.

  “The Suttons’ place sure is nice,” Janine adds, tapping the photo of the big house.

  I rub my fingers across the photo, remembering the swallows that nested above the wide white columns, the heavy wooden door with the brass ring I used for knocking, the box beside the door where I left eggs each morning. “I guess. Never was invited in.”

  “You’re kidding.” Janine looks shocked.

  “Lived there my whole life and never was allowed past the porch.”

  “I’ll never understand rich people.” She sighs.

  I snicker and tell her, “You are rich people.”

  “Well, I sure wasn’t until Cauy proposed. Anyway, we don’t act like rich people.” She scoots closer.

  “No, you just don’t act like mean rich people.” With that, Janine flips the page to a close-up of Sweetie, my sweet gum tree. Then the spot on Mr. Sutton’s hill where my parents are buried, and the other one where Sloth is at rest with his wife. Then the rodeo arena, the carousel, and the town square.

  The entire album is packed with memories, bringing me back to all my favorite places, but one photo in particular brings back feelings I’d rather forget. It’s a snapshot of the Miller family’s church. It shows the steeple standing tall against a cloudless sky, its stained glass windows looking dark in the black-and-white image. I look at the photo and think only of the bells in that steeple room. The big black bells that witnessed the entire assault. I turn the page quickly and wonder if I’ll ever be able to fully forget, or if the sound of church bells ringing will always sting my soul.

  I stay in bed as Janine stands to pack the last of her luggage. “You sure you don’t want to stay here with Oka and me?”

  “Good idea,” Oka says, and I can’t help but smile as my grandmother joins us in the bedroom. Janine has managed to win her over, just as she did me.

  “As much as I don’t want to leave y’all, I admit I can’t wait to get back to running water and an indoor commode. Roughing it is not for me. I don’t know how you stand it.”

  “I’m used to it.” I shrug.

  “You, too?” Janine looks at Oka as if I’ve lost my mind.

  Oka laughs and says, “Not so different from home.”

  “Well, Cauy has already agreed. We’re leaving y’all some extra funds to make things a little more comfortable out here. And don’t be afraid to spend it. I’ll be ordering you some furniture for those empty rooms, and please, buy something nice for the baby. A pretty doll maybe. A couple of fancy outfits.”

  “Janine, you’ve already done too much.” I sit straighter in the bed.

  “Let me enjoy this, Millie. I want to spoil this little girl something silly.”

  “Why is everyone so sure it’s a girl?” I ask.

  “Just a feeling.” Janine touches my stomach again. This time, I don’t flinch. I smile.

  “You think it’s a girl too, Oka?”

  Oka nods.

  “What should we name her?” I think of names I like. People and places that bring smiles.

  “You mean you’re not planning to name her after me?” Janine laughs.

  Oka unpacks a shirt Janine has just added to the suitcase. She refolds it and packs it again, much neater and tighter than Janine managed to do. Janine gives her a smirk, and Oka laughs again.

  “Chahta receive many names,” Oka says. It’s the first time she’s brought up her Choctaw traditions, so I pull myself a little straighter in bed to show I’m eager to hear more.

  “What’s she talking about? I still don’t understand anything she says,” Janine teases.

  Oka gives her a playful push. They’ve developed a peculiar relationship in the last few weeks, and they’ve sure given me tons of entertainment as a result. “We get one name when born. From parents. Birth name. Then later, we get second name. Something family choose. That name for our ... skills. Things we good at, maybe hunting, swimming, or horses, or beadwork.”

  “What’s your name mean?” Janine asks.

  “Oka mean water. That my second name. I save my brother from … die in river.” Oka imitates someone struggling in the water. She’s learned to give us hints with movements when she lacks the English words to express her thoughts.

  “You saved your brother from drowning?” I pull the covers over me and pat for Oka to sit beside me.

  Janine closes the suitcase and latches the two clasps. Then she plops back down next to me in the spot I’ve made for Oka.

  “Yes,” Oka says, as if everyone has saved a life and it’s no big deal.

  “How old were you?” I prompt her to continue.

  “Thirteen. My brother ten.”

  Janine crosses her arms, impressed.

  I love that I’m finally learning more about Oka, and I don’t want her to stop sharing. “So what was your name before that one? The one you were born with?”

  “Nahotama,” Oka says. “It mean caring, helping, strong-hearted.” She pats her heart, cau
sing mine to strum.

  “That’s beautiful,” I say. “And it fits.”

  Oka smiles.

  “It’s hard enough for me to choose one name for the baby,” I say, “much less two.”

  “When she born, you know what name to give her. God tell you. You see. That her birth name. And then, she grow, and she learn, and she earn new name. Family name. And that come in time. And then, she find her own way. She know herself. Then, she find her true name. Her secret name.”

  “You mean there’s a third name?” Janine asks. “For heaven’s sake, this is confusing.”

  Oka continues, patiently explaining the tradition. “When I turn eighteen, I already marry, have babies, but Ishki, Mother, tell me, ‘Go find true name. One true thing you know about you. Tell no one. Keep secret, between you and God. No one take that from you. Ever. It tell who you are.’”

  “That’s a beautiful idea,” Janine says. “Did you choose a true name, Oka?”

  “Yes.” Oka makes herself comfortable in the corner chair.

  “Well, what is it?” Janine begins to braid my hair, always trying to make me look my best.

  Oka laughs. “I never tell.”

  “Oh, Millie. We have to do this!” Janine chirps. “What would your true name be?”

  I rack my brain for a name, something to describe myself, something other than Millicent or Millie. I think of nothing.

  “What would you choose? For you?” I ask Janine.

  “This is hard, isn’t it? I honestly don’t know. Maybe, hmm. What do you think?”

  “No,” Oka says. “Only you choose true name. Secret. Remember?”

  “Oh, there’s nothing y’all don’t know about me. I’m an open book. But … I’m going to think about this and come up with a really good one. Something sexy.” Janine laughs. “That’s it! Sexy!”

  “Keep thinking.” Oka rolls her eyes.

  Janine, Oka, and I end the night painting our nails and rolling with laughter. Janine and Mr. Tucker will be leaving in the morning. There’s no way around it: good-bye has come too soon.

  After supper, Bump says good night and turns out the lantern. I tell him a little about Oka’s names. “If you had to think of one name to describe me, what would it be?”

  “Stubborn.”

  I laugh and elbow him in the ribs.

  “Nah,” Bump adds. “I guess if I had to give you one name, it would be Loved.”

  I fall asleep counting my blessings and let my husband hold me tight.

  Janine and Mr. Tucker have barely left town when loneliness hits me. I return to the house while Oka heads out to milk the goats. She’s managed to wean the babies so we can have fresh milk each morning. She may be still settling in, but I’m already so attached, I don’t know how I’ll handle it if she ever decides to leave. Janine leaving was hard enough. The house seems too quiet without her constant rambling. I put down my sewing and thumb through the photo album from Camille, looking again and again at the images of home.

  My favorite part is the last section, where she’s included photos of the people I love. Camille having a picnic under a magnolia tree. Mabel in Diana’s kitchen, snapping a mess of string beans. Janine and Mr. Tucker smiling in front of a crowd of rodeo fans. Diana, bright with perfection, sipping sweet tea on her front porch swing. There’s also a shot of the gypsy caravan rolling through town. In the right corner of that photo, with a glinting harmonica tip in his white shirt pocket, is River.

  I’ve avoided looking at this photo in front of Janine and Oka, but now that I’m alone, I can’t help myself. I’m curious. I wish I knew what became of River. What did he think when Mabel told him I was married?

  A surge of excitement moves through me, and for the first time in a long time, I find myself yearning for a man … without having to pretend I am Kat. I didn’t know I could still feel this way. I close my eyes and picture River, pressing his lips across the harmonica, laughing as we race through the woods. Within minutes, I begin to nod off. Here, in my Colorado bedroom, with a photo in my hands, I am reminded that somewhere each night, a long-haired traveler might still be singing to a heaven of stars, and to one star he named after me.

  I wake late in the afternoon to sounds of laughter, light bursts that tip me back into hues of yellow and white, drawing me out of the blue-dark tones of my dreams. “Oh, Kenneth,” Kat giggles. “You are some kind of funny.”

  My eyes open just as Kat touches Bump’s arm and hands him a stacked sandwich. He smiles, takes a bite, and says, “Good stuff.”

  “It’s not much,” Kat says. “We’ll all be happy when Millie can cook again. She makes the best biscuits.” Kat passes a second sandwich to Bump and places her hand over his. He lets her keep it there. Smiles at her. She is hand in hand with my husband, calling him Kenneth, laughing and saying “we.”

  I shake my head, hoping this is nothing more than a bad dream. I am the We. Bump and Me. We are the We.

  “Did Janine and Mr. Tucker get off okay?” I ask.

  Bump quickly pulls his hand from Kat’s and moves to my side. He kisses me, only on the head this time. “Yep. I just got back from Longmont. You musta’ been in a deep sleep. You never heard me come in.”

  “Millie,” Kat begins. “You’re finally awake. I thought I’d come sit with you for a while, but Kenneth won’t leave your side. Talk some sense into the man, will you?”

  “That’s very kind of you, Kat, but no one needs to sit with me. Really. I’m fine.”

  “You shouldn’t have to be alone.” She tries to adjust my pillow. I fix it without her help.

  “Oka’s been extremely helpful.” I look around and ask, “Where’s Henry?”

  Kat waves her hand like she’s pushing away the very idea of her son. “Daddy took him fishing, so I’m all yours.” She looks at Bump when she says this. I can hardly believe she’s flirting with my husband, right here in front of me. Oka would probably tell me it serves me right, since I was just dreaming about River.

  “Millie’s right,” Bump says. “We’ve got it covered. But I am mighty glad you brought these sandwiches, Kat.” He takes another bite. You’d think the room was filled with angels by the way he expresses his appreciation.

  “Thoughtful man, Millie. Most would be complaining about the bed rest by now.” Kat flashes her green eyes my way and takes me back to another childhood memory.

  I was only about seven, admiring an afternoon sky tinted a spectacular shade of green, just like Kat’s eyes. Sloth looked up and said, “Best be warned of that kinda sky.” I asked him why. He said, “It’ll trick you. Keep you lookin’ at them pretty green clouds while danger be blowin’ in the wind.”

  Later in bed, Bump is quiet. He doesn’t kiss me good night, but instead turns his back and seems distant. “Deep in thought,” I tell him. “What’s on your mind?”

  “The war.” His voice stays low and quiet.

  This surprises me. He’s never mentioned anything about the war, even when his brothers were shipped out. “I’m glad you got exempt as a rancher. I don’t know what I’d do if you had to leave.”

  “I guess. But I hate to hear of folks like Kat’s husband,” Bump says. “All those people over there losin’ their lives. Makes me think I should be there too.”

  “You’re needed more here.” I roll my fingers along his back and try to get his mind away from Kat. “Even the government admits somebody has to grow our food.”

  “Well, I ain’t doin’ too good a job at that either,” Bump says. “Can’t believe those cows never showed up.” He’s been disappointed that a deal Mr. Tucker arranged never panned out. We should already have some cattle here, but we only have horses, hens, and goats. He turns to me now, rubs his hand across my stomach, shifts mood. “How’s our Little Bean tonight?”

  “She’s been dancing all day. Here, feel.” I move his hands beneath my nig
htgown and let him touch my bare belly. I slide them slowly across my swollen waist, and for the first time, I don’t feel a rising surge of panic as his hand goes beneath my navel. I’m hoping he can feel the baby move, but she stays still.

  “I think she’s waiting for you to tell her a bedtime story,” I tease.

  “I don’t know any.” He doesn’t sound like he wants to play along.

  “Make one up,” I speak gently. “You’ll have to learn sooner or later.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He leans his head against my middle and begins talking softly to our child. “Once upon a time, there was a princess. The most beautiful girl in the world, only she didn’t know it. She was smart, too. And brave.”

  I close my eyes and let him take me far away, the way Mama used to do when I would climb into her lap and listen.

  “Unlike most princesses, this girl didn’t have a good life. Her father was cruel. He made her believe she was nothin’ special. And her mother was too sad to care. So every day the girl would stare out into the woods and watch the birds and the deer. She wanted to be like them—happy and free.

  “As years passed, many stories spread about the princess. People said she was in danger, that her father had gone mad. Even worse, men were ready to battle for the beautiful princess, who was now old enough to marry. One day, a young farmer heard the tale and decided to help her.

  “That afternoon, he snuck into the castle and gave her a choice. She was nervous, and she wasn’t sure if she could trust him. But remember, she was also very brave. So she agreed to leave with the poor farm boy, hopin’ he could help her be happy and free.

  “She climbed onto the back of his horse and together they rode off into the sunset. They didn’t stop until they reached the mountains, and there they lived, happily ever after.”

  Chapter 18

  The cadence of our lives settles after Janine and Mr. Tucker return to Mississippi. Before I know it, it’s been a month since Doc Henley told me this baby might not make it through the night. I’ve stayed in bed for nearly thirty days wondering why. Why don’t I get up, run a couple of laps around the pasture, take a challenging mountain hike, ride Firefly across the fields at full gallop? Doc said the only way this baby might survive is if I rest. God gave me what I asked for—a way out. All I have to do is take it. Yet I stay here. Why?