“I’m James,” the young man spoke up. “I helped to build this log home,” he said smiling proudly.
“Oh, hell yes, I remember you,” Blaze replied. “Come on in, you all come on in,” he beckoned, smiling broadly.
Inside, Lynette stared for a second.
“Is that you James? My goodness, life must have been good to you, you look wonderful. Is this Mrs. James?” Lynette realized that she couldn’t remember his last name.
“Yes m’am, this is Mercedes, my wife,” he said again proudly. “We’ve been married for almost ten years. We’ve got two sons, plus the one girl from my first marriage,” he said, hoping that they would understand without him having to recount details.
Blaze insisted that they come into the Great Room and sit and visit. But after a brief conversation in the entry way, because James didn’t want to intrude or stay, he reached
into his shirt pocket and pulled out a check. He handed it to Blaze, a bit shyly.
“I told you I’d repay you, sir. I’m sorry it took so long to do it, but here’s the money plus a little bit of interest. That money changed my life in ways you can’t even imagine,” he added. Blaze tried to push the check back at him, declining to take the money, but James insisted.
“It’s a just debt, Mr. Snowdown, and my grandmama taught me to pay what I owe. You hafta take it. It’s done all the good it’s supposed to, and anyway, I can afford to give it back to you. I’m half owner in a construction company back over in Lubbock and I’m doin’ well now, thanks in good part to your generosity.”
Blaze shook his hand mightily.
“Y’all stay for lunch,” he insisted, but James and Mercedes said they had to get back to Lubbock before nightfall. Each couple wished the other well and Lynette told them to come back soon again, when they could stay longer. Blaze looked at the numbers on the check - $1250. $250 more than he had given the young man, and he shook his head. He handed the check to Lynette, who stared at it for several seconds.
Let’s pay it forward,” she said quietly. “If the original thousand dollars did something really positive for that man, let’s see how much good this money can do for somebody else. We’ll think of something,” she said, smiling up at her husband. “I have an idea,” he replied, throwing an arm over her shoulder as they walked together toward their office.
Blaze eventually had to undergo open heart surgery with a triple bi-pass, and Lynette had what appeared to be a mild stroke or TIA, temporary ischemic attack. Thank goodness she had no apparent lingering effects. She asked the doctors if this was the precursor to a full stroke. The responses were vague, but with her history of hypertension, though beautifully controlled for over thirty years, none could rule this out as a possibility. The doctors warned that this was indeed a dangerous situation. Though she had watched her weight studiously over the years, they encouraged her to loose a little more and increase her daily exercise. Through it all, Blaze and Lynette held tightly to each other, deriving strength from the love that could neither be tested, nor damaged.
Because of their acknowledged love for one another and the soundness of their marriage, this aging couple was often called upon by the Elders and other church organizations to counsel with, and mentor, young couples about to embark on marriage. They provided wise counsel, and often suggested that the couple look past the big wedding and look to the days of the marriage. They urged them to measure their passion for one another, not just the lusty part, but the commitment toward the passion to be married. The couples needed to be sure that the partner each was choosing was the one that had the qualities they were looking for, not qualities that they wanted to immediately change once the rings were on the fingers. Straight forward and honest about the trials of marriage, they were credited with preventing some serious mistakes, and for helping other couples to achieve good, grounded marriages similar to theirs.
BC graduated from The University of New Mexico with a degree in Agricultural Management and a minor in Biology. Blaze and Lynette sat proudly in the audience, with Clare and all the family members and close friends as he walked across that stage and moved his tassel to the other side. They all had a hand in his upbringing, and they were so proud. He went on to graduate school for a year at Texas A&M with a concentration in Animal Genetics. His father had taught him well. It was natural that he grew into a fine, disciplined, responsible and loving man. At age twenty-eight, he married a lovely young half-white, half-Chiricahua Apache woman and brought his wife to live at Satellite Hill Ranch. They wound up with twin girls the first time around, and a boy, whom they named Blaze II, from the subsequent pregnancy. He built them a home of bricks and natural stone unearthed during the excavation process. It sat only about 150 yards from the “Big House” as Lynette’s log cabin had come to be known. Little by little Blaze turned over more and more of the ranching responsibilities to BC and Trapper. At age 88, Blaze officially retired, and spent most of his days driving Lynette around the ranch to keep an eye on things, walking their three new rescued dogs, holding hands as usual, or bustling around behind her in the house. They’d had such a good life as husband and wife. They were content just to be old together. Together, for them, was the operative word.
There wasn’t any real sex going on anymore, but Blaze still cuddled Lynette next to him at the beginning of each night’s sleep. Still, he loved to rub her soft behind and kiss her always available lips. Either he would lay his arm across her chest and place a leg over hers, or she would throw a big, firm leg over his and slip her arm under his arm and over his chest. It just depended on which one got comfortable first. Lynette gave Blaze luscious back rubs with aromatic herbs and scented oils. While she kneaded and stroked his body, she turned the stereo system to Native music or sometimes, smooth jazz. He came to know what a boneless cat really felt like – so relaxed that the body almost looks distorted. It was the way Lynette used to lay in his arms after he’d moved her to exquisite bliss. He moaned from a different kind of pleasure in his old years, but her hands continued to bring him pleasure. She kissed his golden back, still strong from a lifetime of work. She worked the oils into his softened buttocks, delighting at the feel to her hands. The muscles in his long legs relaxed as her warm hands smoothed the oils down to his feet which she kept smooth and supple; there would be no crusty patches or callouses on her husband’s feet. When he found the strength to roll over onto his back, Lynette began the massage again, beginning in his scalp and working her talented finger onto his chiseled face and down onto his throat. He lay often with his arms outstretched to the side, submissive, humbled and vulnerable to his loving wife. He liked to watch his reflection in her eyes as she worked the tightness out of his muscles and smoothed the aromatic oils onto his stomach. Sometimes she would stop and explore the scar on his side where Patrick had stabbed him on that terrible night. Her eyes would grow dim with moisture as she touched that wound, then she’d move her hands quickly away and onto his stomach. She liked the way his belly felt, and he was a little bit ticklish there. As her hands moved down to the tops of his thighs, she stared at the mat of hair between them, and the wonderful gift he had so often given her over the many years. It lay, for the most part, quiet now – at rest, but the memories it brought back to her made her feel warm, wanted and well loved. They were the memories of the thunder he raised in her body – what he could do to her, with her, for her. He brewed storms inside of her and with each release she felt lightening exploding from her extremities; the roar of thunder in her head, then quiet. He had been a masterful lover, always attentive to her needs. Each time he slipped into her, it was as though they were lifted to a spiritual level of acceptance and regard beyond this ordinary plain. It was the purest example of physical love – but it was the truest embodiment of what the Scriptures meant – “and they shall become one.”
Blaze always acknowledged her and smiled at her when she entered a room. She was always glad to see him walk into any space she occupied. It was as though she could never tire
of this vision; the vision of the man who had danced her into a perfect life, and given her perfect love. She loved the ground he walked on, every footstep he made, and he could never find enough kind things to do for her. She was his life.
In the winter, they peacefully watched the fire in their bedroom Kiva fireplace as the snow came down and built up on the outside window sills. Winter began upon their mountain with light dustings of snow just at the summit. Shortly thereafter, she was blanketed with deep, brilliant white, and thousands of skiers slipped silently down her ridges in the bowl, looking like tiny ants racing down hill. In the spring and summer they watched hummingbirds fighting for the nectar in the hummingbird feeders hanging right outside their bedroom bay windows. In the fall, they watched the trees turn their brilliant pallet of autumn colors, and all living things began preparing for the long sleep of winter.
CHAPTER 39
¤
The Circle Closes
In the spring of their 39th year together, Lynette finished baking two sugarless peach cobblers and sat them to cool on racks on the kitchen counter. She was a bit achy that day, but no different than many other days as arthritis had begun to bother her. She felt it most in her knees and hip where, many years ago, she had taken a really bad fall up at Bonne Terre Lake. But, what the heck, she laughed to herself. I’m 85 years old, I’m supposed to have aches and pains. I haven’t always been good to this body, and there were years when I thought Blaze was going to wear my hips out. She laughed out loud remembering how they used to make love morning, noon and night, and sometimes all night.
“Whatcha laughing at wife?” Blaze asked from his seat in the Great Room.
“Oh, just thinking back,” she answered sweetly.
“I hope it was a good thought,” he replied. He always wanted her to have good thoughts and to be happy. He had worked hard to provide her with beautiful memories.
“It was Sweetie. I’m gonna go soak in a hot tub of water,” Lynette said, removing her apron. “The pies will be cool by dinner time.”
Blaze continued to read his paper, and half listened to the usually unpleasant headline news on CNN all at the same time. No matter where she was in the house, he always listened for her, and she did the same. It was as if they shared one mind; as if each could reach out and touch the other wherever they might be. He realized that he never heard her bath water running. Slowly, a bit stiffly, he got up off his leather couch to see what she was doing, if she wasn’t taking a bath. He walked across the big room, down the short hallway and into the bright bedroom with all the windows.
“Where are you, Lynn?” he called out. But there was no answer.
He continued across the large bedroom to the bath, which was Lynette’s favorite room in the entire house. Done in beige and white terrazzo tiles, with deep tan marble counters, it was her special refuge, where she could soak away all the tensions of the day. As he turned into the doorway, he saw her feet first, then her full body sprawled out across the cold floor.
“Wife, wife, Lynn,” he bent over and called to her. Instantly, he was on his knees beside her. “Lynette, wake up,” he called, terror inching into his voice. There was no response. She did not move. He did not want to leave her lying there, but he had to get help. He ran as fast as he could over to the phone on the night stand and dialed 911.
“My wife, she’s on the floor in the bathroom. I can’t get a response from her, hurry, please hurry,” he begged, then gave directions to Satellite Hill Ranch. Then he called BC who ran from his house the 150 yards to the Big House, wearing nothing but his blue jeans and boots. Together they lifted her onto the big bed. She was breathing, but they couldn’t get a response.
It took over 45 minutes for EMS to arrive. As they waited, helplessly, Blaze held her hand and talked to her. “You can’t do this, you hear me. You said you’d wait for me. You promised to wait for me,” he kept saying. He took cool towels and wiped her pale face. He covered her with the comforter her mother, Bertha, had made for her when she was a young married woman. He brushed her silver-grey hair back away from her face and spread it down onto her shoulders. And they waited.
They could hear the sirens getting closer. By this time BC’s wife and the kids were at the house, Clare was on her way and Sebastian called his daddy, Hawk, and Janette, Lynette’s daughter, instructing them to meet them at the County hospital. Lynette lay lifeless. She was breathing, but nothing moved.
The EMS technicians put needles in her arms, fitted an oxygen mask over her face, took her blood pressure, and lifted her onto the stretcher. “I’m going with her,” Blaze insisted, and there was no stopping him from climbing into that ambulance. BC, and Sebastian waited for Clare and they all squeezed into BC’s truck. They followed as closely as they could to the ambulance.
“You said you’d wait for me,” Blaze kept saying. “Wife, please don’t leave me,” he begged pitifully. “You’re my life. I can’t make it without you,” he cried and his tears fell down onto the oxygen mask that covered her face.
“She’s had a massive stroke, Mr. Snowdown,” the ER doctor said. “Will you sign the release to let us administer a clot busting drug, to try to prevent any further damage to her brain?” he asked quietly. Blaze couldn’t see the line on the page where he was supposed to sign, for the water in his eyes. The doctor positioned his hand where he should start and he signed the form. He fell into the chair beside the wall in the emergency examining room, and he sobbed out loud.
“Don’t let her die, please God don’t let her die. Don’t take her away from me. You gave her to me, but please don’t take her,” he begged, he prayed.
BC came and lifted his dad gently, and walked him out of the curtained emergency room and into the hallway. He looked up helplessly at his son.
“I can’t live without her, you know that don’t you,” he said as he slid into the hard plastic chair.
The doctors kept her in that curtained room for a long time. Then they wheeled her to ICU where she remained for three more days. Blaze never left the hospital. He stayed near his wife, as she had done for him years ago when he was sick. When the nurses or aides came in to change her linens, he left the room, as a courtesy. But when they came to bathe her, it was he that took the warm clothes and gently wiped her body. One of the aides had to leave the room in tears, having never seen a man so lovingly care for his wife. And she heard him say to her, “Remember, Lynette, remember the first time I bathed you? Remember how we both fit in that tub?” Lynette lay there, still, never moving. The machines hooked up to her kept a steady cadence, beeping every few seconds, as they breathed for her, and monitored her heart and brain activity.
No one knew that Blaze had not taken his heart medicine since the morning of her stroke. He didn’t care anymore and if anyone had brought them, he probably would have thrown them away. What good did it do to continue living without his wife. The wife of his dreams, the wife of his bed, the wife that gave him life. Janette kept a vigil with him for long hours, as did Clare. Trapper and Pepper came right away when BC called. The doctors said there was no longer any hope. Merrilynn came from Albuquerque as soon as she heard and she stayed by her father as he tended to his wife. The grandchildren came by to pay their respects, but were only allowed to stay for a few minutes. Sebastian, for whom she had been something of a surrogate mother, stayed at the hospital during the nights with BC. Friends from the churches and the Reservation, paid their respects. Blaze found out just how much everyone else loved this wonderful woman. And they loved him, too. Some of the old friends understood his love for his wife. Only they knew what he was about to loose.
On the morning of her third day in the hospital, the kindly doctor came into Lynette’s room, with Merrilynn. Blaze looked up at them. He knew what they were going to tell him. He listened patiently, as they said only a miracle from God could turn things around for his wife. Her brain was so severely damaged that even if she could somehow live, she would be in a vegetative state for the rest of her life.
Blaze thought, though he never said it, what a terrible thing that would be for his wife – the woman who rolled down the window on a long highway and screamed out into the darkness because she was so happy for her friend, Clare. The woman who would yell Yeeee Haaaa, when they danced to some wild country swing music. The woman who pole-danced on a four-poster bed, for him, in a Dallas hotel room. The woman who could experience incredible joy just looking at her mountain. The woman who had so lovingly agreed to give his son life. No that would not be living if her brain was almost dead. His heart was breaking at the doctor’s words. It literally… was breaking.
On the third night of her stay in the hospital, an exhausted Blaze asked everyone to go home and get some rest. He and Lynette needed some quiet time together. After the evening nurse came in one time very late, to check her vitals, he pulled the curtains together, turned out the lights and lowered the railing on the one side of her bed. Only the glow from the machines cast a light into the darkened room. Slowly, laboriously, he took off his shoes and socks, folded his socks and placed them, with his shoes, neatly under her bed. He pulled off his belt with the big silver and turquoise buckle that Lynette loved, and folded it carefully - ceremoniously. He laid it on the chair by her bed. Unbuttoning his shirt, which she had lovingly ironed the week before, he removed it, folding it as though participating in a ritual, and he laid it on the chair next to his belt. He pulled the clasp from his pony tail and let his silver-grey hair fall past his shoulders. He placed the clasp next to his belt. Then he climbed into the bed with his wife, nestling himself in beside her. He laid his arm over her chest and pulled her close to himself. He placed a leg over her legs. And he buried his face in the bend of her neck.
Thunder In Her Body Page 41
