Coyote's Wife (42 page)

“Spiders like spinning elaborate webs, Mom. Ask a bug.” Turning her attention to the plant, she added, “What kind of plant is this?”

It’s
tsinyaachéch’il,
what we call oak under a tree. Depending on how it’s
used it can either heal or make you extremely sick.”

Abigail’s message was suddenly crystal clear. Her association with Rose had been a way of reminding Ella that everyone had weaknesses and Ella’s were right in this house.

“I need to drive over to my friend’s home to take care of her plants,” Rose said, standing up. “They’ve suffered while she’s been away. Boots is helpless with native plants.”

By the time Ella realized that Rose hadn’t referred to Lena as her “former friend” her mother had left the kitchen. Ella was still sipping coffee, wondering what she’d missed, when Herman came in.

“Have you seen my glasses?” he asked.

“No, but I’ll help you look. In the meantime, why don’t you tell me what’s happened between Mom and her friend?” she asked. “It sounded to me like things were
back to normal between them.”

“No, not back to normal, but better. I wish I knew the details, but I don’t. She spoke to her friend alone, and she never mentioned anything about her visit when I drove her back,” he said, searching through the pens and papers beside the phone for his glasses. “All she told me is that we’d be taking care of her friend’s plants every afternoon until she came back
and could do it herself.”

Ella found Herman’s glasses behind the coffeepot and handed them to him. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” he said, then hurried out of the kitchen.

Ella walked back into the living room and saw the new piñon lamp resting on the end table. Herman had done a magnificent job. The twisted grains and knots of the wood
had been stained and finished to perfection, and the simple
white shade with a turquoise trim added a slash of color.

Maybe, she thought, Herman could make a cane or walking stick for Carolyn. He was a real craftsman when it came to woodworking. If he agreed, the whole family could go looking for suitable materials this weekend and make it a picnic as well.

Ella looked out the window and waved at her daughter, who was outside teaching her pony a new
trick. To the young, hope was never ending, Ella realized. To adults, it came harder. Her own life was about the hope that harmony could always be restored, despite the long odds against it sometimes. For others, like Abigail Yellowhair, hope of revenge was all they had, and was what kept them going.

Hope, in all its forms, was permanently woven into the fabric of life on the Rez. It gave the
Diné
courage and was at the heart of all who walked in beauty.

Ella went out to join her daughter, and gave her a hug. “It’s a fine day. Let’s go for a ride.”