by Donna Fasano
The room went totally quiet. Julie couldn’t help but find it very interesting that Grace didn’t just think of her pre-Mat existence as another time, but a whole other life.
Mat sighed. “The point is, Grace,” he told her, “the teachers’ lounge is for teachers. There’s a sign right out there on the door. You do not belong in here. And you’re smart enough to have figured that out.”
The girl crossed her little arms over her chest, her chin tipping up as she pointed out, “Well, if they don’t want anybody in here, then they shouldn’t have coffee and donuts where us kids can smell ’em.”
“That’s enough, Gracie.”
Again Mat’s firm tone had his daughter’s face crumpling.
“You lose television privileges for a week because of this. And another thing, I don’t care if you smell donuts or filet mignon, you are not to come in here again. Do you understand?”
Grace nodded, subdued now.
The confrontation over, Julie felt it was her turn to take control. “Grace, why don’t you go to the rest room and wash your face with cool water? I’ll meet you back at the classroom, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.” She slid off the chair and made her way to the door. She turned back to face them after she’d opened it.
“Dad, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad at me.”
“Honey, everyone makes mistakes,” he told her gently. “The important thing is that we don’t repeat them.”
“You don’t have to worry about me coming in here if I smell that filly stuff,” she rushed to assure him. “I don’t even know what that is.” Her eyes grew pained. “It’s the donuts that are dangerous.”
The door closed, and Julie and Mat were alone in the lounge. The sound of his soulful sigh was heart-wrenching.
“What am I going to do with that child?” he asked softly.
Without thinking, she slid her fingertips over his forearm. Tiny shocks of electric current zipped and ricocheted between them. The very air seemed to tighten. He noticed it. She knew he did.
The two of them stood for several seconds, seemingly unable to speak.
Julie’s mouth went cottony and she moistened her lips. His eyes were glued to her mouth. She swallowed.
Her students were waiting. As much as she’d like to indulge in these heated moments of… of… whatever this was, she simply couldn’t. She had a job to do.
To lighten the mood, she quipped, “Donuts are pretty dangerous.”
She was glad when she saw him smile, and she gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll stand as a united front, you and I. We’ll teach her the rules. You’ll see.”
“It isn’t just how she overlooks the rules.” His whole face seemed to fall a fraction. “It’s how she excuses her actions. And it’s… well, it’s everything. She’s such a tomboy. She has no interest whatsoever in normal girl things. Or what I thought were girl things. Dolls. Hair ribbons. Pretty clothes. Or anything else, well, feminine.”
Julie felt suddenly pressed for time. “Mat, I’d love to talk about this, but—” she glanced at her watch “—the morning bell is about to ring. The school secretary is sitting in for me rather than making the morning announcements.”
“Julie, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to keep you. Oh, but one thing before you go. I’ve been thinking about Brian. I’d like to invite the two of you to the Harvest Celebration. It’s a Kolheek tradition. I think you’ll enjoy yourselves.”
The thought of spending the evening with Mat made her belly churn with excitement. She’d read about the celebration and wondered if she’d get the opportunity to attend. “I’d love to go,” she told him. “I’m sure Brian would, too.”
“It’s also Kolheek tradition for the men to spend the weekend hunting,” Mat said. “I thought that Brian might like to come along with me. We’ll do some tracking and fishing. We’ll make our own shelter. A couple of days providing for himself might, I don’t know, help your brother gain some confidence, some self-respect. He can’t respect others unless he respects himself, you know?”
“Mat—” warmth permeated her heart “—that sounds like it would be a wonderful experience for Brian. If you’re sure this is something you want to take on.”
He was quiet for a second. Then he said, “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t.”
The temperature in the room seemed to heat up, and the air felt tight again.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
The school bell rang, yet neither of them moved. Mat’s dark gaze seemed to fight with a sudden idea. “Hey, maybe you could spend the weekend with my daughter. Teach her some soft, womanly things. Like baking a pie. Or shopping for a dress.”
She couldn’t stop the grin that crept over her lips. “So baking a pie is a womanly thing, huh?”
“Well…”
She laughed as his embarrassment had him cringing.
“Not really, but you know what I mean, right?”
Julie nodded. “I do. And I’d love to swap kids with you this weekend. But I have to tell you, I think we’ll both have our hands full.”
“We can do it, though, don’t you think?” He pulled open the door and the moved out into the hallway. “So, I’ll see you at the celebration Friday night?” he asked.
She nodded. And as she watched him walk away, she marveled at how mushy her heart had grown. He was kind. And concerned. He was honorable. And well respected in this community of Kolheeks.
She couldn’t think of a better role model for her brother than Mat Makwa.
Chapter Four
The old shaman made his way into the center of the crowd. Julie was in awe at the sudden and respectful silence that settled in the air. The Harvest Celebration had been buzzing with the laughter of adults, the squeals and shouts of running children, but now the large group went utterly still, and the only sounds that could be heard were the snap and hiss of the large bonfire and the chirping of the night insects.
“Life is a cycle,” Grayson Makwa announced in his commanding timbre. “An endless, ever-flowing circle. It is said that in the beginning Kit-tan-it-to’wet, the Great Spirit, made the world and placed creatures upon the good, dry land and in the deep seas. Among those creatures was Toad, who was given the responsibility of the waters. He kept them in his body, letting them out only as they were needed to moisten Mother Earth, to keep her oceans full, her rivers running swiftly.”
Every eye was on the elderly man. Julie let her gaze rove over his impressive traditional garb. His shoulder-length, steel-gray hair hung loose, confined only by a fancy beaded headband. The leather tunic he wore was hand-tooled. His leggings, made of tanned animal skin, had an ornate beaded design on each thigh and were fringed along the outer seams. The moccasins covering his feet were unadorned, the cuff flaps so large that they nearly brushed the ground around his heels.
“One day,” Grayson continued, his rich voice weaving itself warmly through the crowd, “a wicked horned serpent appeared and fought with Toad. The monster gored Toad in the side and water surged, threatening to overflow Mother Earth.”
Darting a quick glance at her brother, Julie saw that he was held as rapt by the ancient legend as the rest of those gathered around the fire. She smiled, realizing that children of all ages enjoyed a well-told tale, and Grayson was certainly proving to be a mesmerizing storyteller.
“A powerful man named Nan’a-push—” the shaman’s words once again pulled at Julie’s attention “—lived on the earth, and when he saw the rising water, he raced toward the highest mountain he could find. With each swift step he took, he gathered up animals, tucking them into the bosom of his belted robe.”
Suddenly Julie was overcome with a prickly sensation. She turned her head, and her gaze collided with Mat’s. The intensity of his stare made her body flush hot. Since the moment she’d arrived, she’d been terribly aware that something magical heated the night. She’d thought it was the excitement of the evening, the electricity that seemed to pulse f
rom the mood of the people. However, as she stood here, her gaze tangling with Mat’s, she couldn’t help but feel that the mysterious tension glittering and dancing in the air had a much more personal origin. Finally she tore her gaze away from the man who stirred in her an unnamable ache, and she focused on the shaman.
“At the very top of the mountain,” Grayson continued, “was a cedar tree. When the water reached the jagged peak, Nan’a-push began to climb the tree. He reached the highest branch, but the water was unrelenting. Nan’a-push began to sing, beating in time with an arrow upon his bowstring. As he sang, the tree began to grow. The cedar continued to grow as the waters rose, so that the waves never quite reached the man’s feet.”
A covert peek at Mat told Julie he was no longer staring at her. She was relieved… and terribly disappointed.
The shaman said, “Finally Nan’a-push tired of singing, and he pulled off some of the tree’s branches and tossed them onto the water, creating a strong raft. He and the animals floated until all the earth was swallowed by water. After a while, Nan’a-push decided that a new Mother Earth should be made, a task he knew he could perform through the power that had been granted to him by Kit-tan-it-to’wet.”
“That—”
Julie started when she heard Mat’s voice so close to her ear for she hadn’t even heard him approach her from behind.
“—is my favorite part of the story.”
His sweet breath tickled her neck.
“I like thinking that the Great One would bestow such power on a mere human.”
A shiver coursed down her spine when she suddenly realized that Mat, mere human that he was, held amazing power… over her.
“However,” Grayson said to the crowd, “Nan’a-push needed a small bit of Mother Earth to start with. So he sent the loon, who dived deep to get a little mud. Loon stayed under the water a long time.”
The very night seemed to wait in breathless anticipation.
“When he came floating back to the surface, he was dead. Nan’a-push breathed life back into loon. Next, he sent otter. Otter tried to reach the bottom, but he, too, died. Nan’a-push revived him. Next was beaver’s turn, with the same result, but Nan’a-push revived him, as well. Finally, muskrat made one last attempt. His lifeless body floated to the surface, but he was able to gather a bit of mud in his mouth and paws before he died. Nan’a-push breathed muskrat back to life and blessed him, telling him that he was favored among animals and that his tribe would never die out.”
Keeping her attention on the story being told was difficult for Julie now that the heated spicy scent of Mat wafted around her. She could feel the solidness of him just behind her left shoulder, and it took every bit of her willpower not to surrender to the urge to lean against him.
“Now Nan’a-push needed one of the creatures to carry the earth.” Grayson paused, looking around the crowd. “Turtle stepped forward, and the mud was placed on his back. It began to grow until it was a large island. It expanded into the land we live on today.”
Grayson Makwa fell silent. Apparently the Kolheeks knew this was the end of the story, for the dreamlike stillness was soon broken with movement and quiet discussion.
“What a wonderful story,” Julie said. Mustering a brilliant smile, she tried to hide the breathlessness she felt at Mat’s nearness.
He nodded, then looked at Brian. “So what did you think of my grandfather’s tale?”
The teen just shrugged. “It was neat. It was a lot like the biblical story of Noah, the guy who built the ark.”
“Yes,” Mat said. “It’s amazing how many cultures have some kind of story that revolves around a great flood.”
“I’ve heard of Noah,” Grace said. “That story ends with a big rainbow.”
“That’s right. It does.” Mat smiled down at the child.
“I r-really like,” Brian haltingly added, “how the man in the story referred to the muskrat as being part of a tribe. Like the muskrat was, I dunno, on the same level as the man, rather than being—” he hitched a shoulder “—less than the man or something.”
Julie was surprised by Brian’s insightful observation. Mat, she saw, seemed impressed by it, too.
“We believe,” Mat said softly, “that all forms of life deserve our respect. It’s something that’s taught to us from the very start of our lives. No being is higher than another.”
A momentary shadow passed across Brian’s gaze, and Julie was left wondering what might be going through his mind.
Mat said, “But my grandfather didn’t quite finish the story.”
“Oh?” Julie’s curiosity was piqued.
“It is Kolheek tradition for the shaman to leave this particular tale unfinished,” Mat informed them. “This gives the People a chance to practice the Oral Tradition themselves. This practice is especially important for parents of young children.”
Sure enough, Julie glanced around and saw that everyone had gathered in small groups, their heads bent in conversation.
“So,” Brian was quick to pipe up, “how does the rest of the story go?”
Mat picked up Grace. “Well… I hope I can get this right. It’s been a while since I’ve told this tale.” He cleared his throat. “Once Mother Earth was restored, every so often Nan’a-push would send a wolf to see how large the new land had grown. The first time the wolf left and returned in one day. The second time, the wolf didn’t return for five days. The third time, it took ten days. Then it took the length of a moon cycle. Then a year. And then five years. It is said that the last time Nan’a-push checked to see how big Mother Earth had grown, he sent a young wolf, but the wolf died of old age before it could return. That is when Nan’a-push felt that the earth was large enough and commanded it to stop growing. Now, it is believed that Nan’a-push lives far to the north and that he sleeps all winter like the bear. Before he goes to bed, he smokes a big stone pipe. When the air fills with blue smoke in the fall, everyone knows Nan’a- push is getting ready for bed and that winter is coming.”
Simultaneously all eyes went heavenward, searching the night sky for smoky clouds, and Julie smiled. Her heart felt happy to have had this opportunity to experience the rich tapestry that was Kolheek tradition.
“I have a question.” Grace tugged on Mat’s earlobe to get his attention.
“And what is that?” Mat asked, smiling at her.
Julie braced herself for the child’s inquiry. Would she question how a toad could hold enough water in its body to flood the earth? Would she dispute that a man could make a tree grow by singing? Or that smoke from a stone pipe could fill the whole sky with clouds?
“How come great-grandfather is wearing those funny clothes?”
Mat chuckled at his daughter’s query. As he lowered her to the ground, he said, “Why don’t you go ask him for yourself?”
Grace scampered off toward Grayson.
“I’m starving,” Brian said. “Are they serving the food yet?”
“If not,” Mat told him, “they’ll be serving it soon. The food tables are over that way.”
Julie watched her brother jog off.
Once again the shaman raised a hand to garner the crowd’s attention. He held Gracie in his other arm.
“Last spring,” he said, “we fed Mother Earth and prayed that the Great Spirit would bless us with a bountiful harvest. Today we celebrate that harvest. Let us dance and sing and eat and show that we gratefully and joyfully enjoy all that we have been given!”
Immediately men in breechcloths and elaborate feathered headdresses encircled the fire, singing and dancing to the primitive beat of drums. Some people in the crowd stood to watch, others moved toward the tables that were laden with a bounty of delicious food. When Julie passed the tables earlier, she’d seen roasted ears of corn, beans flavored with smoky bacon, fried chicken, venison stew, an assortment of salads, fresh-baked breads, and traditional desserts sweetened with honey and molasses, and she’d been fascinated at the culinary variety.
�
�So,” Mat said, “is Brian ready for our weekend outing?”
Julie tempered her nod with an uncertain grin. “He’s trying hard to remain noncommittal about the trip.” She chuckled. “It isn’t cool for a kid his age to be looking forward to spending the weekend with an adult. But I can tell he’s excited about going. Robert wasn’t an outdoorsman. He never took Brian fishing or camping.”
“We’ll have fun.” Mat shifted his weight. “And hopefully I’ll get the chance to talk to him a little bit about growing up. About what it means to be a man. But don’t worry. I won’t be heavy-handed about it.”
Julie felt grateful that Mat was willing to spend some time with her brother. Usually people wanted nothing whatsoever to do with sullen teens. Brian had some really wonderful traits. He was a good kid with a good heart. She wanted to be optimistic in thinking that, eventually, his positive characteristics would dominate the negative ones. Yet at the same time it could be that the abuse he’d suffered had left him with a chip on his shoulder that no one would be able to remove.
Mat’s chin dipped and he eyed her dubiously. “Are you ready for your weekend with Grace?”
Julie was helpless against the laugh that bubbled from her. “Don’t make it sound like I’m taking on Attila the Hun, okay? Grace and I are going to have a great time. I’ve got all kinds of girlie things planned for us to do.”
It was obvious to her that he was feeling the same deep gratitude as she. Like tiny cat’s paws, pleasure padded through her being. It made her happy to think that they were helping each other out with their problems. Funny how her thinking on that matter had changed so drastically.
“Grace will be okay with Grandfather for a few minutes,” Mat said, glancing over his shoulder. He turned his dark gaze on Julie. “Would you like to take a walk?”
His handsome face took on an expression so packed with awareness that the molecules in the night air seemed to speed up, enveloping her in a delicious, anticipatory warmth.
