She’d always loved the bustle and excitement of living in a big city, loved the people and the places and the noise. But that had been before she’d seen the desert sky at night, before she’d lain beneath a huge expanse of stars and before she’d come to understand just what wide open spaces really were. That had been before Graywolf. Her attitude about a lot of things had changed since he’d walked into her life, and now nothing would ever be the same again.
She thought of him, picturing him at different places, different times—in his hogan, behind the wheel of his Jeep, at night before an open fire. Would he ever go back to D.C., back to the land of the White Eyes? Would he ever look her up if he did?
A swell of emotion rose in her throat, and she quickly closed her eyes. It seemed unlikely that would ever happen, even less likely that he would look her up if it did. They both knew where the other stood, they’d said pretty much all there was to say. She should probably just accept the fact that she would never see him again.
Reality sucked, she thought bitterly as she opened her eyes and watched the luggage as it made its way up the conveyor belt and into the belly of the plane. And reality for her was that it didn’t matter if they ever met again or not. She was going to see him, anyway, every day for the rest of her life—in memories, in dreams, and in that awful aching in her heart.
She took a deep breath, pushing back the memories with a little shake of the head. She didn’t want to think about it now— she couldn’t. Not now, not when leaving was difficult enough, not when going home meant giving up what little hope she’d had, not when she felt so alone, so empty.
She took a deep breath, shifting her weight restlessly. The two seats beside her remained empty, and she almost wished now that someone would occupy them. Not that she really felt like talking, but at least it might keep her from thinking.
Mallory picked up a magazine from the pouch in front of her. Thumbing through it, her thoughts turned to Marissa, and the telephone call that had brought her to tears.
It had been hard to leave Marissa—for a lot of reasons, but especially with her so upset about Josh. Mallory was happy that her sister was finally going to get what she always wanted—her own son back. But it wasn’t going to be easy for either of them. Josh had a lot of problems, especially now that he’d been arrested and was facing a charge of arson. And Marissa was going to have to face Dylan James again—the man she had once loved, the man who had walked out on her and their unborn child, and the man who had arrested Josh.
“You just wait until we get home, Harold.”
Mallory glanced up at the couple making their way down the aisle toward her, and knew she should have been careful what she wished for. The sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach told her the sparring couple were her seatmates.
“Just find the seats, Harriet, will you?” her husband grumbled from behind her. “We’re late enough as it is.”
The woman moved laboriously down the narrow aisle, the fragrance of her perfume billowing around her like a dense cloud. “I’m giving that travel agent a piece of my mind.”
“Oh, stop your complaining, Harriet,” her husband groaned. “All you do is yammer, yammer, yammer.”
“Well, you tell someone you want a motel near the airport, you expect a motel near the airport. Is that too much to ask?” she asked as she checked the seat numbers posted along the aisle. “And this is the last time I let you talk me into flying coach—being herded in like so much cattle just so you can save a few lousy dollars.”
“Just find the seats,” Harold pleaded, shoving a paper shopping bag into the overhead compartment.
“You never know who you’re going to get stuck next to,” she groused in a whisper that wasn’t really a whisper at all.
Mallory had wanted a little distraction, a little meaningless chitchat to help pass the time, to help get her mind off her troubles. But somehow, looking at Harold and Harriet, she didn’t think that was going to happen. This commuter hop from Tucson to Denver was suddenly looking very long, and very boring.
“Hello,” the woman said with a plastic smile, eyeing both Mallory and the empty seats beside her with equal distaste. She clutched her purse tightly to her side as she slipped into the row.
Mallory nodded and did her best to smile. “Hello.”
“Oh, I wonder,” Harriet asked, pointing to Mallory’s purse on the floor beneath the seat in front of her. “I wonder if you’d mind moving that. The handle is hitting me in the ankle.”
Mallory looked down at her purse and flipped the handle to one side. “Is that better?”
“Well,” Harriet said with a false smile. “I guess it will have to do, won’t it.”
Mallory rolled her eyes and turned back to the window. She almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. Why should anything about this trip be easy?
“Going far?”
“Hmm?” Mallory asked, turning back to her seatmate. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“I asked if you were going far?” Harriet repeated again. Apparently she’d determined her personal safety was intact, and that it would be all right to be civil.
“Oh,” Mallory nodded. “Washington.”
“State? Or the other one?”
“The other one,” Mallory said with a little laugh. She’d have to remember that one for her friends in the newsroom.
“Well, now,” Harriet said, her smile warming. “Isn’t that exciting. Do you know anyone interesting there? I hear Teddy Kennedy...”
But Mallory heard little else after that. She smiled and nodded as Harriet chattered on, but her mind drifted off—thinking about desert nights, and a sky as dark as a shaman’s eyes. And she probably could have drifted quite some time, but a commotion at the front of the plane shook her from her reverie and had her sitting up in her seat.
Several flight attendants rushed to the front of the plane, and there was loud talking and a flurry of activity. But with the tall seats and the crowd of other passengers, she could make out little else.
“What in the world is going on up there?” Harriet demanded, turning to her husband. “This is what happens when you fly coach, Harold.” She rose up out of her seat, craning over the heads of the passengers in front of her. “Just look at that, will you. Some Indian up there, making a fuss—acting crazy if you ask me.” She settled back into her seat. “I told you, Harold, you never know what kind of riffraff you’ll run into.”
But it wasn’t Harriet’s crass comments that had Mallory taking another peek over the rows. It was something familiar—the sound of a voice, a glimpse of a face.
“Sir, I cannot let you on the plane without a boarding pass,” the flight attendant insisted, her voice rising. “Sir, please. The plane is about to take off.”
Mallory had just shifted her head to one side to peer around the large hat of the woman in front of her when she saw Graywolf break past the attendants and come barreling down the center aisle toward her.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered, as a thunderous ringing sounded in her ears. She fell back against her seat, stunned.
Graywolf’s eyes searched the rows, ignoring the curious looks of the passengers and the cluster of fretting flight attendants he’d left in his wake. He spotted her almost immediately, his dark eyes zeroing in like a hunter on the scent of his prey.
“My God, Harold,” Harriet screeched, grabbing her husband’s arm. “He’s coming this way.”
“Mallory,” he said, stopping at her row.
“Graywolf,” she managed to gasp in a strangled whisper. “W-what are you doing here? What do you want?”
“I have to talk to you,” he said, leaning close and ignoring the cowering couple between them.
“Now? I can’t now,” she protested, feebly gesturing about. “The plane. There’s no time.”
“Come with me.”
“Sir,” an official-looking woman in an airline uniform said, tapping him on the shoulder. “Either you leave this plane immediately, or I’ll
call security and have you removed. Do you understand?”
Graywolf looked at the woman, then back to Mallory. “Please.”
“Sir,” the woman said firmly, her arms crossed over her chest.
He reached out his hand, extending it toward her. “Mallory, please.“
She looked up into his dark eyes and a feeling of alarm spread through her. He was frightened, she realized. She knew it, could feel it, just like she could feel her sister’s fears. Benjamin Graywolf was frightened—scared to death, in fact. Had something happened—to Hosteen Johnny, to Ida, to him?
She felt confused and disoriented, and needed time to think. But there was no time—no time for careful consideration, no time for weighing of issues or arguments pro and con. There were too many people talking, too many people shouting and issuing orders. Yet despite the confusion and chaos, one voice rose above the others, one voice she responded to. Reaching up, she took Graywolf’s hand.
“Well, have you ever!” Harriet mumbled indignantly as Mallory squeezed past.
“We’re leaving in less than five minutes,” the flight attendant told her as she started down the aisle. “I can’t hold the plane.”
“I understand,” Mallory said, feeling Graywolf’s hand at her arm. “I’ll be back.”
They made their way out of the plane, past the curious stares and impatient scowls of the other passengers. The loading gate area was all but empty now, with only the airline staff behind the counter. Mallory walked to a deserted spot by a huge picture window that looked out over the docked plane, and turned to Graywolf.
“What’s happened?” she demanded. “What’s the matter?”
Graywolf looked into her eyes, trying to gauge what she might be thinking, trying to find some insight into what might be in her heart. But it did no good. He garnered nothing from her cool, blue gaze—no intuitions, no hunches. Where were all his special abilities? Where were his visions and his perceptions when he really needed them? He felt deserted and alone. How did he start? How did he explain to her that he’d finally come to his senses, that he couldn’t live without her and wanted her with him? What if she wouldn’t listen? What if it was too late?
“About the powwow,” he started, feeling more vulnerable and alone than he ever had in his life. “I acted like a jerk. I hurt you, and I’m...sorry.”
“That’s it?” she charged, unconsciously taking a step forward. “You wanted to apologize?” Her hands went into fists. “You pulled me off that plane to tell me you’re sorry?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t think of calling me? Or writing? You had to yank me off an airplane?”
“I had to see you, I had to tell you face-to-face.”
Mallory shot a nervous glance out the window. “Look,” she said, moving back towards the loading gate. “Forget about the powwow. We both said things...we were both upset.”
“No,” Graywolf insisted, following her as she moved and growing more desperate. “It was more than that. You were right.”
“About what?” she asked, rounding the row of empty chairs leading to the loading gate.
“About me,” he said finally, catching her by the arm and bringing her to a stop.
“About you?” she repeated. She looked up at him, struck again by an overwhelming feeling of panic and fear. “What is it Graywolf? Why are you really here?”
“You were right about me. I didn’t trust you because—”
“Because?” she prompted when his words drifted off. “Because I’m biligaana, and you don’t trust biligaana. Well I am biligaana, Graywolf. I am white, and that’s never going to change—and neither are you.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s not that, it’s not that at all. I didn’t trust you, I...couldn’t.”
“You couldn’t?” she said, her voice full of doubt. “What does that mean?”
He looked down at her, feeling her anger and wanting to die inside. “I couldn’t because I was scared.” He gave a sad, lonely sounding laugh. “Don’t you get it? I’m the shaman, the lawyer—the one everyone comes to for answers. I’m suppose to have the cure for what ails everybody, the solution for all their problems, but when it came to you...” He shook his head. “You scared the hell out of me, Mallory. I’m still scared. I cared too much, wanted you too much, I—I wasn’t ready.” He reached for her again, pulling her into his arms when she offered no resistance. “You said you knew I loved you, that you’d wait for me until I was ready.” He pulled her close. “Mallory, I’m ready. I’m ready now.”
“Graywolf, I—”
“The only thing that frightens me now is losing you. That scares me to death,” he said, cutting her off and lowering his mouth to hers.
Mallory surrendered to his kiss, emotion swelling in her heart. The earth had shifted on its axis, had righted its orbit, and everything was back in place again. She was in the arms of the man she loved, where she belonged, where she wanted to be.
“Tell me it isn’t too late, tell me you’ll stay with me,” he whispered, brushing a hundred tiny kisses against her lips. “Tell me you’ll marry me. I love you.”
“Graywolf, I don’t know what to say, I don’t—”
“Don’t say anything,” he murmured, pulling her close for another kiss. “Just feel.”
Mallory did feel—all the love, all the emotion flowing out of him. She felt breathless and light-headed, like a kid at Christmas who’d gotten everything they’d ever wanted.
“I do feel, Graywolf,” she murmured against his lips. “I feel it all.”
“You’ll stay then?” he asked, pulling away just far enough to look down at her. “You’ll marry me?”
“Yes,” she whispered as the plane outside began slowly to back away from the terminal. “Oh yes.”
There was a hurried walk to his Jeep after that, a short drive to the airport hotel, and then a long evening of touching, healing and making love.
“Are you sure you don’t mind about the move?” Graywolf asked, running a hand along the gentle curve of her waist. “I feel a little guilty—you’re the one having to make all the sacrifices.”
“Small concession,” she said, looking up at him. “What’s for me in D.C.—a job? An apartment?” She snuggled closer. “My life is here now. With you.”
“Yeah, it is,” he said, smiling wide. “We’ll have to decide where we’ll want to live, you know. You liked Sedona, or maybe we should think about Flagstaff. I’m sure Wayne would want you at the Register.“
She sat up a little. “What’s wrong with the reservation?”
He glanced down at her, surprised. “You mean...you’d be willing to live there?”
“Why not?” she asked, leaning up and pressing a kiss along his lips. “But as long as I’m with you, it doesn’t matter where we live—house, hogan, I don’t care.”
Graywolf felt a swell of emotion in his chest like a physical blow. Gathering her in his arms, he pulled her close, feeling happier than any one man had a right to be. “I love you,” he said, kissing her long and deep. “And I’m going to build a house on the reservation big enough to fit a tribe in.”
“The Graywolf tribe,” she whispered with a smile.
“It won’t always be easy you know,” Graywolf said in the darkness, his smile fading just a little. He lazily wove a lock of her hair through his fingers, the moonlight glinting white through the strands. “You saw the stares from the people on the plane.”
Mallory raised her head up from where it rested on his shoulder and looked down into his shadowed face. “People were staring because they thought you were a terrorist or something, not because you’re an Indian and I’m not.”
Graywolf shrugged causally, but his face remained serious. “But there will be stares and comments.”
“So let them stare, let them say whatever they want, what do we care?” she said, running her hand along the smooth plane of his chest. “Besides, people have stared at Marissa and me our whole lives. Trust me, you
get used to it.”
“I do trust you,” he whispered, reaching down to grab her hand and lifting it to his lips. “Life on the reservation can be rough—I don’t think you realize what you’re getting yourself into.”
“Maybe not,” she admitted. “But I’ll get used to it.” She cocked her head to one side, giving him a skeptical look. “You know, if you’re trying to talk me out of this, it won’t work. You asked me to marry you and I accepted—I’m holding you to it.”
He kissed the palm of her hand, and then pulled her close. “Are you sure? I just don’t want you to be disappointed.”
“You’re being too serious,” she complained, leaning down and pressing a kiss against his lips. “The only thing I’ll be disappointed about is if you can’t get my luggage back from D.C.” She leaned her body close, her voice turning to a whisper. “Do you realize, I’ve got nothing to wear?”
He had to smile then. She was right, he was being too serious, looking for problems that weren’t even there. He rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him and let his hands slide over her body. “Talk about vision.”
“Come on, medicine man,” she murmured against his lips. “Show me your magic.”
* * * * *
ISBN: 978-1-4592-8730-3
Tears of the Shaman
Copyright © 1995 by Ann Marie Fattarsi
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