Tears of the Shaman

by Rebecca Daniels

  “A little girl,” Mallory murmured, feeling more breathless by the sight than by the long climb up the embankment. She turned and looked at Graywolf. “It’s a little girl.” She took a step closer. “Could she be the one? The child in the vision?”

  Graywolf watched the child as she sat before the fire, playing quietly and singing an old Navajo lullaby he remembered from his childhood. He had seen the infant clearly in the vision—tiny and wrinkled. The child before the fire was at least three years old. Turning to Mallory, he shook his head. “No, it’s not her.”

  Mallory turned away. It was foolish to feel so disappointed, and yet she couldn’t seem to help it. Ever since Graywolf had told her of his vision, about the child, she’d had a...feeling. Then, hearing the mournful sound of that little voice, she’d thought...but it was useless to think of all that now. She wasn’t the one with visions, with second sight. What she’d felt had been little more than wishful thinking.

  “How do you suppose she got out here?” she asked in a tight voice. “Could she be lost?”

  “Maybe,” Graywolf said, shrugging. “Let’s go down and find out.”

  They started down the mesa toward the child when a woman’s voice sounded above the singing.

  “Sarah, could you help me, please?”

  Even before Mallory saw the woman hobble out of the darkness of the shallow cave with a makeshift crutch beneath her arm, she knew who it was, and for a moment she could do nothing but stand and stare. She watched in disbelief as the woman handed the little girl a small plastic container and pointed off into the distance. It wasn’t until the little girl had raced off across the mesa that Mallory felt her heart begin to beat again.

  “Marissa,” she said, emotion choking her vocal cords and making her voice little more than a whisper.

  Graywolf knew even before he saw the woman appear out of the darkness that they had found Marissa Wakefield. Not because of any insight he possessed, but because he could feel Mallory’s reaction. And while he knew it was prudent that they proceed with caution, while he knew it made sense to wait and assess the situation from a distance, make sure there was no threat of danger, no sign of trouble, he seemed to have momentarily forgotten it. Her joy had suddenly become his, and they both started down the embankment on a run.

  “Marissa, Marissa, Marissa,” Mallory called as she loped down the hill, her voice growing stronger and louder with each step. “Marissa!”

  “M-Mallory?” Marissa stammered, dropping the gnarled walking stick she held as a crutch. She staggered forward a few steps. “Oh, God, Mallory?”

  The two sisters embraced each other with such force it nearly toppled them to the ground. Tears flowed loose and plentiful, and for the moment the questions of how and why were not important. What was important was the nightmare was over, and the Wakefield twins were together again.

  But tears soon erupted into a frenzy of questions, with both sisters talking at the same time, and neither listening to what the other said. There was too much to tell, too much to listen to, for anything to really sink in.

  “Thank God. Oh, Mallory, thank God,” Marissa wailed through a waterfall of tears. “I knew you would find me, I knew you would come. Oh, God, I prayed you would.”

  Mallory batted away the tears that blurred her vision. “No one would listen to me. No one believed you were missing.”

  Marissa pulled back and took Mallory’s face in her hands. “But you believed, and you found me, anyway.”

  “I believed.” Mallory smiled, taking a deep breath. “And so did...” She stopped and turned to Graywolf, who stood quietly by, watching and waiting, and felt a tight constriction around her heart. Even through the tears, she didn’t think he’d ever looked more handsome. She remembered what it had felt to be in his arms, and a new swell of emotion rose in her throat. “Marissa, this is Benjamin Graywolf. He’s a tracker, and a shaman, and without him, I never would have found you.”

  Marissa gave her head a little shake in an attempt to compose herself and wiped her tear-moistened hand on her pant leg. She turned to Graywolf, giving him an embarrassed smile. She stepped forward to extend him her dry hand, but then stopped suddenly, flinching violently.

  Mallory grabbed for her sister again. “My God, Marissa, you’re hurt,” she gasped in horror. “What is it? What’s happened?”

  “It’s just a sprain,” Marissa insisted, nodding to her swollen ankle and waving off her sister’s concern. With Mallory’s help she hobbled forward to offer Graywolf her hand. “Mr. Graywolf, I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

  Graywolf took Marissa’s outstretched hand, and the fading sunlight caught the gold clusters of stars on the pendant around her neck. Immediately he recognized the backdrop of the cave as the scene from his vision, and he thought of the image of the Navajo infant.

  Standing side by side, the Wakefield sisters bore an uncanny physical resemblance to each other—but as much as they were the same, Graywolf sensed the differences between them. He found it strange and a little unsettling to look into faces that were virtually mirror images, and yet see the same features look so very different on each sister. While Marissa’s face shared the same extraordinary beauty as Mallory’s, Graywolf realized uneasily that it was more than the fair hair, more than the blue eyes and pale skin, that had attracted him to Mallory Wakefield.

  “We’d better get you off that ankle,” Graywolf said, forcing the disturbing thoughts from his mind. He reached out an arm, helping Marissa toward the rocky ledge near the cave. “It looks broken.”

  “First let me check on Ruth,” Marissa insisted, gesturing into the cave.

  “Ruth?” Mallory repeated. “Who’s Ruth?” In frustration she threw her hands up in a helpless gesture. “Marissa, what’s all this about? What are you doing way out here?”

  Marissa gave her a tired smile. “It’s a long story. Come inside and let me introduce you, then I’ll explain everything.”

  Graywolf all but carried Marissa as she led them into the shallow cave. Inside, asleep on a brightly colored Indian blanket, was a young Navajo woman. She wore a deep blue velvet vest and a bright, multicolored skirt. But the fullness at her waist revealed a womb heavy with child.

  “A newborn,” Mallory said almost soundlessly, turning to Graywolf.

  Graywolf glanced into Mallory’s eyes, which were dark and murky blue in the dim of the cave. He wasn’t sure if he’d heard her words, or just felt them. Not that it mattered. What was important was that they both knew in that instant they had found the child in the vision.

  “Good, she’s resting now,” Marissa whispered in a low voice. She motioned Graywolf to a level spot on the rocky floor where he settled her gently to her feet. “She started feeling uncomfortable yesterday. I thought it was exhaustion—the climb up here was hard on her. But early this morning she started having contractions. They were weak at first, irregular. She’d told me it was too early for the baby. I’d hoped it was just a false alarm. Unfortunately, the contractions have continued to get stronger and they’re coming pretty regularly now. I can’t tell you how frightened I’ve been. We have to get some help for her.” She turned to Graywolf. “She needs a doctor.”

  Just then the young woman stirred, and Marissa knelt at her side. “It’s okay, Ruth,” Marissa said in a soothing voice, rubbing a comforting hand along the woman’s forehead. “I’m right here. It’s going to be all right. Just relax, don’t fight it.”

  The contraction was a strong one, and Mallory held herself rigid watching the young woman bravely endure the tremendous strain to her small body. She turned to Graywolf, and leaned close. “Have you ever delivered a baby?” she whispered.

  Graywolf gave her a deliberate look. “What do you think? I went to law school, remember?”

  “But I thought you were a medicine man. Isn’t that something like a doctor?”

  He scowled. He knew the ancient ceremonies, could chant the words of his ancestors, he even carried his pouch of crystals aro
und his waist, but those things were a far cry from a doctor’s bag. “It’s nothing like a doctor.”

  “Ruth,” Marissa said once the contraction was over and the young woman revived a bit. “Ruth, listen to me. I have good news. Help has arrived, just like I promised.” She turned and motioned for Mallory and Graywolf to come closer. “Ruth, this is my sister Mallory—the one I told you about. And this is her friend Benjamin Graywolf.”

  Mallory stepped forward and smiled down at the young mother. “Hello, Ruth.”

  Ruth’s eyes widened at the sight of two such identical faces, and muttered something unintelligible under her breath. “Miss Marissa told me you would come. We prayed you would find us,” she said to Mallory, a tear slipping down her wide cheek. She turned to Graywolf. “Yaa eh t’eeh.”

  “Yaa eh t’eeh,” Graywolf said, returning the traditional Navajo greeting. They shared a brief exchange in their native tongue, introducing themselves through the clans of their mothers. But as they spoke, Ruth’s soft, open expression went suddenly stiff as another strong contraction began.

  Graywolf dropped to his knees, watching helplessly as Ruth’s small body went rigid with pain. He took her hand in his, and she gripped tight as the contraction peaked with agonizing intensity.

  Mallory watched Graywolf. He looked bewildered, completely helpless in the face of this ancient rite of women. He was strong and capable, like the Rock of Gibraltar. But to see him so utterly vulnerable now stirred a powerful emotion in her.

  The contraction left Ruth exhausted. The little girl Mallory and Graywolf had seen playing at the camp fire returned with a plastic carton full of water. Marissa introduced her as Sarah, Ruth’s four-year-old daughter.

  While Marissa helped Ruth sip water from the container, Graywolf pulled Mallory aside. “There isn’t going to be time to get her to a hospital. That baby is coming too fast.”

  Mallory swallowed nervously. “I know.”

  “Do you think you’re going to be able to do it?”

  Mallory’s head reared up. “What do you mean me? We’re all in this together, friend.”

  “Oh, no,” Graywolf said, holding his hands up and shaking his head. “I don’t know anything about delivering a baby.”

  “You know as much as I do,” Mallory insisted, thinking how woefully inadequate the first aid class she’d taken in high school about a million years ago had been.

  “But you’re a woman. Women know about these things.”

  “That’s an old wives’ tale.”

  Graywolf stared down at her, his gaze inadvertently drifting to her lips and remembering the taste of her. The memory triggered others—of holding her, touching her—and he shifted uneasily. Taking a deep breath, he turned away. “Well, at least your sister has been through it before. That helps.”

  Mallory followed his gaze to Marissa, who worked to make Ruth comfortable. She remembered the sterile hospital room in the medical center just outside Baltimore where she and Aunt Bea had comforted Marissa during her long hours of labor. But Marissa had all the advantages medical science had to offer to help her through the ordeal. Ruth had nothing—just a little child, and three very scared adults.

  She looked up at Graywolf, remembering his vision of a newborn. “But it also helps to know the baby will be all right.”

  Graywolf gave her a puzzled look. “What makes you say that?”

  “The vision, remember?”

  Yes, he remembered, but took little solace in it. He had seen the child, alive and in the arms of Marissa Wakefield. But despite his intuition and second sight, he was still only mortal. Beyond that one glimpse of insight, that one peek at what was to come, he was as much in the dark as to what the future held as the rest of them. He had no way of knowing if Ruth would make it through the delivery, or if there would be complications that would prove disastrous.

  “Mallory. Graywolf. Come quick,” Marissa cried out suddenly. “I think something’s wrong.”

  Mallory felt a chill. She was a veteran reporter and had covered stories that were dramatic and that had put her in some pretty heated situations. But she knew that the next few hours would be the longest and most tense she would ever remember in her life. All the questions she had for Marissa, all the things she wanted to know about what had happened, and why, would have to wait. They were mere details—particulars that could be filled in at a later date. At the moment a child was fighting its way into the world—and that took precedence over everything else.

  They all worked feverishly together—even little Sarah, who filled and refilled the plastic water container many times over. They were a motley crew, with Ruth stoic and strong, Marissa issuing orders, and Mallory and Graywolf scrambling to follow them, but there was a curious sort of harmony to their movements. As awkward and unconventional as they were, they’d become a team, united in a common cause to bring a new life into the world.

  Despite the intensity of the situation, and the constant distractions, Mallory found herself watching Graywolf. It was as though their time alone in the desert had left her supersensitive to everything about him. She found his concern for Ruth genuine and touching. He tried hard to be cold and aloof, to hold others at arm’s length, but the flashes of sensitivity and caring were impossible to hide. God knows how many times over the course of the last several days she’d seen him surly and rude, irritable and moody. But there was no sign of that now.

  Despite his awkwardness with the situation, he attended to Ruth with compassion and tenderness. He held her hand through the long, painful contractions, bathed her forehead with cool, clear water, and whispered quiet, soothing Navajo words in her ear.

  Ruth, like many on the reservation, had grown up hearing stories of the revered yataalii Hosteen Johnny Bistie. To have the grandson of such a great singer, who himself was a respected shaman, comforting her during the birth of her child brought her great solace.

  The sunlight began to fade, and the cave grew dark. Mallory and Sarah hurriedly collected firewood, while Graywolf fashioned a crude torch with strips of material from his discarded shirt and a mixture of wood chips and pitch he’d gathered from the trees. The moon had just started to rise in the sky when, after what seemed like an eternity, the wail of a brand-new voice broke through the silence of the night.

  “It’s a boy!” Marissa announced in a shaky voice, tears streaming down her face and holding the wet, wiggly little life in her arms.

  “A son.” Ruth sighed as Marissa placed the baby in her arms.

  “A boy,” Mallory murmured. She turned to Graywolf. “It’s a boy.”

  Although the mechanics of the human reproduction process were no mystery to him, Graywolf had never actually witnessed the birth of a child before, and the experience had left him shaken and in awe. He turned to Mallory, seeing the emotion in her face and feeling something stir deep inside him, something he’d been trying to ignore for too long.

  She was so beautiful, so full of life—someone special, someone out of the ordinary, and it seemed he’d been waiting for her his whole life. Reaching out, he caught her by the waist and swept her up into his arms. When he brought his lips to hers, he found her warm, and sweet, and receptive.

  Mallory gave herself to his kiss completely, holding back nothing. What she felt had nothing to do with the euphoria of the moment, with the celebration of new life, and new hope. What she felt had been in her heart almost from the beginning, churning around and flourishing with each moment that had passed. She might not know everything about the man who called himself Benjamin Graywolf, but she knew all she needed. She knew he was the man she loved.

  Graywolf forgot about the cave, about Marissa and Ruth, and little Sarah sitting nearby. There was only the woman in his arms, and the miracle of life he’d just witnessed. He wanted Mallory, wanted to plant his seed in her, give her his child so that they could create a miracle of their own. He wanted to watch her body change and grow, feel the swell of his child inside her belly. And he wanted to hold their ch
ild in his arms—the ultimate union—half Navajo, half biligaana.

  “Uh, excuse me, you two,” Marissa said in a hesitant voice. She laughed when Mallory and Graywolf jumped apart, surprised and startled. “Look, I hate to interrupt, but I could use some help here.”

  Marissa stood there, the rocky wall of the cave rising up behind her, balancing carefully on her one good ankle and holding the little infant lovingly in her arms. She’d wrapped him in the clean white cloth she’d pulled from his mother’s voluminous underslip, and his tiny lungs bellowed clear and strong. Graywolf realized at that moment he was looking at the scene from his vision.

  “Can one of you come and take this little guy?” Marissa asked, smiling down into the tiny face. “I think his mommy could use some rest.”

  * * *

  Graywolf tossed another log onto the fire. They were all exhausted as they sat around the fire quietly talking. Marissa sat with her foot propped up, her ankle bandaged in the makeshift splint Graywolf had fashioned for her. Little Sarah lay across her lap, her eyelids drooping while Mallory rocked the infant in her arms. Behind them, in the cave, Ruth slept peacefully, her body recovering from its tremendous labor of love.

  “It was foolish, I know,” Marissa was saying, continuing the story that they’d finally gotten around to. “But Ruth had an idea where the camp was, and I thought I was familiar enough with the area that between us we could find it.” She gazed at Sarah who was sleeping soundly on her lap. “The two of them looked so helpless standing there by that broken-down old pickup. I couldn’t just leave them stranded there.”

  “We saw the truck,” Mallory said, swaying gently to rock the baby. “Graywolf followed your tracks off the road.”

  “I feel so stupid now,” Marissa confessed, emotion making her voice tight. “But it was as if everything went wrong. We got caught in that terrible thunderstorm, and it got us all turned around. Then it started flooding, and after a while, one arroyo started looking just like all the rest.”