Daughter of Destiny (12 page)

“Yeah, I remember….” She would never forget.

Hearing the tenderness in Kai's tone, Jake lifted his gaze toward the stars once more. “There were nights when I'd go up that hill to the beech and wait for you. While I was waiting, I'd lie on my back in that small opening between the trees, my hands under my head as I gazed up at the night sky.”

Brows knitting, Kai chewed on her jerky. “You never knew when I'd be up there or not.”

“That's right.” Jake chuckled fondly. He finished off his jerky and slid his hands beneath his head. “We didn't have phones on the res at that time, so there was no way to communicate. At least, not that way.”

“I was always surprised to find you up there more times than not,” Kai admitted haltingly. “I sometimes wondered if you were a mind reader.”

“No, it wasn't that, Kai.”

She studied Jake's face in the semidarkness, the light from the flames playing against the clean, sharp planes of his features. His eyes were half-closed and he was looking at the stars. There was such a sense of safety with Jake; there always had been. Now Kai fought that feeling like a wild horse with a rope thrown about its neck. She told herself sternly that not all men were trouble. Over the past year, men had caused her nothing but pain, one way or another, but it hadn't always been that way. Pursing her lips, she finished her jerky and wiped her fingers on her trousers.

“What was it, then? How did you know when I was coming up there?” A part of her was more than a little curious. Another part didn't want to know. Because Jake never presented a threat or challenge to her, Kai felt safe enough to allow her curiosity to show.

She watched as he closed his eyes, and she heard him laugh softly. When he opened them again he looked directly at her.

“I'm not a mind reader, believe me. No, I went up there every night my mom would let me. I didn't know if or when you were coming, but I always hoped you would….”

Stunned, Kai stared at him. “You mean…you were up there almost every night of the week?” That seemed impossible. Yet she lived on the other side of Raccoon Holler, a huge meadow surrounded by old-growth trees. Jake and his family lived three miles on the opposite side. When she was six years old, after being beaten with a leather strap by her drunken father one afternoon, Jake had found her sobbing in the woods about a half mile from the log cabin where she lived. He'd taken her hand, leaned down and
tried to dry her eyes with the red-and-white-striped T-shirt he wore. She remembered vividly that he'd pulled it out of the waist of his jeans, hunkered over her and tugged on the end of the material to awkwardly dab the tears from her face. No words had been spoken, but his actions had expressed volumes. He'd then pulled Kai to her feet and taken her to the huge old beech tree where he'd built a playhouse in the branches. They'd climbed the rickety wooden ladder to the platform among the spreading limbs, where they'd sat together.

Jake saw the shock in Kai's widening eyes. “Yeah, I went up there almost every evening after doing my homework.”

“Even in winter?” she asked, amazed. It snowed often in the Great Smoky Mountains, and it was a cold walk from his cabin up that slope to his playhouse.

Gently, Jake whispered, “No, not during the storms. But when the weather was nice, yeah, I'd tramp up to that old beech. I knew your father had drunken rages, and he'd blow up and beat the hell out of you at any time, in any season. For me, it was important to be there if you needed someone….”

Kai closed her eyes to avoid his searching look. She turned her face away from him, her hands clenching into fists. Forcing herself to relax her fingers, she opened her eyes and stared sightlessly into the dark. Somewhere in the distance, she heard the bark of dingos, wild dogs of the Outback that were similar to the coyotes of North America.

“I can't believe you did that.”

“I did.”

“All those years?”

“Yeah.”

Heart pounding with uncertainty, Kai couldn't stop the tendrils of warmth blossoming within her. “You were almost always around when I'd run up there after a beating. I used to wonder how you knew….”

“I didn't. But I cared for you, Kai, and I didn't ever want you to cry alone again, as you did that first afternoon I found you….”

“Why?” Kai wanted to cry, but fought the desire with everything in her. Her feelings for Jake swelled and that scared her more than anything she'd ever experienced in her life. She wasn't ready for another relationship. And she knew so little about Jake. He could be married, for all she knew, although he wore no ring on his left hand.

Lying down, her head on her saddle, her back toward him, she muttered, “Listen, I'm going to sleep. I'm beat. Wake me up at 4:00 a.m.?”

“Sure. Good night, Kai….”

“Night…” She closed her eyes, hoping sleep would bring her escape from her escalating emotions. Being around Jake was stripping her down, making her vulnerable, and Kai just couldn't handle that. She had a mission to accomplish. The crystal mask had to take priority over everything, despite the longing she had to feel Jake's embrace once again.

“L
ook,” Jake said, pointing toward the northern horizon. “Kalduke.” He grinned triumphantly at Kai, who was riding at his side. “We made it.”

“I never thought I'd be so glad to see civilization again. Do you think they'll have a shower?”

“Don't count on it.”

Grimacing, Kai wiped the sweat from her upper lip one more time. It was near four in the afternoon, and the brutal heat of the day was pounding down on them. She felt sapped of strength from the relentless ovenlike temperatures. The camels, though, seemed completely adjusted to it and had kept up a fast, steady walk toward their destination.

Pulling out a pair of binoculars from the saddle pocket, Kai tried to peer through them despite the constant swaying of the camel. “All I see is a lot of small, dome-shaped brush huts. Not too many people, either. This is a really small village….” She placed the binoculars back in the tan leather case at her side and snapped it closed.

“Don't expect much. There's a rock hole spring here and
they'll have water for the camels to drink. Coober said that many of these remote aboriginal villages are built around water sources.”

“I'd give anything to fall into a water trough at this point.” Kai touched her cheek, which was rough with fine grit. Rock holes, she'd discovered, were just that: holes in the ground where water poured upward like an artesian well from an underground lake below—a continual source for those lucky enough to find them in this hot, dry desert.

Chuckling, Jake nodded. “Makes two of us. Let's hope that your Aboriginal elder, Ooranye, is here.”

“If she isn't…” Kai clenched her teeth momentarily. “That means we've wasted two days out in this oven.” She didn't have much faith that Ooranye would be here, but the rest of her dream had come true, so maybe, just maybe, the woman really did exist. Kai hoped so, because she didn't want to ever have to make this kind of trip again.

“Well, we'll soon find out.” Jake saw a small group of people of different ages gathering at the outskirts of the village, which was built more or less in a circle. He counted seven individuals watching them as they drew closer and closer.

Kai halted Booster and instructed him to kneel. Leaning back as the camel dropped to his front knees, Kai kept her gaze on the Aborigines who stood looking at them. Once Booster was on the ground, she dismounted from the saddle. Riding a camel was somewhat like riding a horse, yet different. Her muscles weren't in terrific shape for this, so her legs were stiff and sore.

Jake dismounted in turn, and together they walked to
ward the group. Kai had been studying a bit of the local Aboriginal language on her way here. They didn't have a word for “Hello.” Instead, they always asked, “What's up?” That seemed odd to her, but it was their custom, and she had to try and fit in so that they would trust her.

Kai saw several white-and gray-haired elders, both men and women. They were dressed in sun-bleached and well-worn but clean cotton garments, all colorful. The men wore trousers that were ragged on the bottoms. The women, all rotund, wore skirts that hung to their knees, and white blouses. None wore shoes, and Kai could see the thick calluses on their feet that enabled them to handle the burning heat of the desert.

“What's up?” she said, greeting them in their language. “I'm Kai and this is my friend Jake. We're looking for Ooranye. Is she here in this village?” Heart beating a little harder, Kai waited. She knew her ability to speak their language was very poor.

One man, stooped with age, his gray hair hanging around his shoulders, hobbled forward. “Yes, Ooranye said you were coming,” he told her in pidgin English. With great effort, his words slow and halting, he said, “Follow us. We will take your camels to the rock hole. Come….”

Relief exploded through Kai. She looked at Jake as the small entourage of adults surrounded them.

“Pay dirt. She's here.” Kai was amazed and stunned by the discovery. Her dreams weren't just her imagination, after all. That made her uneasy, for she'd never had dreams come true before.

Grinning, Jake said, “I never thought she wasn't.”

Eyes round as they walked slowly with the group, Kai said, “Well, I didn't have that kind of blind faith, Carter.”

Wiping his face, Jake replaced his baseball cap, still grinning. “I probably have more faith in you right now that you do yourself.”

“No argument there.” From her vest, Kai brought out two sticks of sacred sage from her home in North Carolina. It was good manners when visiting a medicine person to honor them with sage. It was like a calling card. Kai wasn't sure Ooranye would know her people's customs, but that didn't matter. She would honor her anyway.

Entering the village proper, Kai saw that the homes were mostly makeshift and created out of wattle brush. Others were lean-tos with woven grass roofs to give shade from the merciless heat. She knew from her research that, before white men came to Australia, the Aboriginal people had moved with the seasons, without any fixed dwellings they called home. Instead, as they traveled about, seeking food and water, they created brush huts when necessary, and used them as transitory housing to escape the heat. Half the village was comprised of such huts, some of them quite large and well made. The other buildings were of corrugated tin panels cobbled together, the metal dulled from time and age. Nothing looked very solid or stable. But then, the Aborigines didn't want permanent dwellings, so this building style suited them just fine.

Kai's heart bled for these magnificent people, who walked with their heads up and shoulders back. They shared a common history with Native Americans. In both cases, Europeans had come and heartlessly destroyed their
cultures without a backward glance. So many Aboriginal children had been stolen from their parents, cruelly taken and placed in schools to “civilize” them, just as Indian children had been similarly wrenched away. There was indeed an unspoken bond between Indians and Aborigines.

The Aboriginal people were trying to reclaim their culture now. They had fought for their rights in courts of law, as well. Kai felt very close to these people, even though she lived half a world away.

“Here,” the male elder said, pointing to a large brush hut. “Ooranye expects you to come in….”

“Thank you,” Kai said in English, knowing that in their language there was no such term. Bending down, she entered the opening. Surprised at the coolness that greeted her, she realized that the loose branches provided shade, yet let in every breeze.

In the light filtering in through the branches, Kai saw a very old woman sitting on a green blanket opposite the doorway. Kai's heart sped up. It was Ooranye! She looked exactly as Kai had seen her in her dreams. Ooranye lifted her round, black face, and Kai could see that her eyes were completely covered with a whitish membrane. Startled, Kai realized the old woman was blind.

“Welcome, child. We are grateful you have arrived. Come. Come and sit down….”

Kai went forward, crouching down on her hands and knees because of the low ceiling. The hut was less than six feet in height. Ooranye herself didn't appear to be more than four and a half feet tall. She was dressed in a dark blue shift, her legs crossed under the fabric, her toughened feet
sticking out from beneath. To Kai's surprise, Ooranye's English was halting but understandable.

“Grandmother Ooranye, I bring you a gift from my people.” Kai gently placed the dried sticks of sage in the woman's short wide hands.

“Ahh! Yes…” She smiled a toothless smile and lifted the sage to her wide, flat nose, her nostrils flaring as she inhaled deeply. “Mmm, this smells good.”

Jake moved into the hut and saw Kai crouched before the old woman. He knelt quietly and said nothing. The rapt look on Kai's face told him that this old, gray-haired woman smiling over the sage in her hands was indeed Ooranye.

Kai heard Jake quietly enter the hut and kneel nearby. She spoke slowly in English, knowing it was a foreign language to Ooranye. The old woman set the sage in her lap, her gnarled hands resting over it. She tilted her head to one side birdlike, as Kai introduced Jake.

“You have come a long way, my grandson,” she greeted him, turning her head toward him. “Be at peace. Sit here with us.”

Jake wondered how Ooranye could know where he was sitting. She was obviously blind. When she patted the blanket at her left side, he moved over to her and sat down.

“Granddaughter, come and sit here, beside me.”

Kai did as she was bid when Ooranye pointed to her right side. As she made herself comfortable in the large, airy shelter, Kai saw another woman, perhaps half Ooranye's age, come to the entrance. She was carrying a wooden pitcher and three wooden cups in her hands. En
tering and kneeling before Ooranye, she murmured something in their language that Kai couldn't decipher.

“Are you thirsty, my children? My daughter Yirrkala has made us a sweet, cool drink from the flowers.”

“We'd love some,” Kai murmured. “Thank you.” She watched as Yirrkala, who was probably in her sixties, poured them each a glass. The first one went to Ooranye, who took it, nodded and smiled. Kai was served next. She held the rough-hewn wooden cup and looked into it. Bits of crushed yellow flower petals were floating on top of the beverage.

Jake took the last cup and thanked her.

“Drink, children. There is more if you want it.” Ooranye lifted her cup to her lips and drank deeply.

Kai didn't know the protocol of these people, but she waited until Ooranye was drinking before she did so herself. To her surprise, the drink tasted like honey. It was delicious. Kai drained her cup and held it out to Yirrkala to fill it again.

“Is there enough of this for everyone?” Kai asked. She didn't want to be a pig or seem rude.

Smacking her lips with pleasure, Ooranye set her cup aside. “Yes, we have plenty, child. This is made from the Grevillea bush. The nectar of their long yellow flowers is what you are tasting. The women gather the blossoms just after the sun rises, mash them and pour water over them in a bowl, then let them sit half a day. We enjoy the sweetness. Drink until you are filled.”

Kai drank three full cups before her thirst was stated. She hadn't realized just how parched she'd become, al
though she'd been drinking regularly from the water bottles tied to Booster's saddle.

When Yirrkala left, another woman—Akana—came in, bearing a round wooden platter filled with cooked kangaroo meat, bush honey and bread.

“I know you are tired,” Ooranye said to Kai and Jake. “You are not used to our heat. Come, eat your fill. Our hunters have prayed that a kangaroo would give his life so that we may live. This meat is freshly cooked for you. My little granddaughter, Ulpundu, found the honey nearby by talking to the bees who made it. They led her to the hive, so that you may put honey on your bread. My other daughter, Mararu, has made flour damper here, or what you call bush bread. Come, eat….”

For the next half hour, they feasted. Kai reverently made sure that the elder was served first. It was a custom of the Cherokee that the old ones and growing children ate before anyone else, to be assured a full stomach. Adults were the last to eat, consuming whatever was left.

There was no talking during the meal, only the sounds of them eating with great enjoyment. Kai found the tender kangaroo meat tasted like the jerky she'd eaten the last two days—a cross between beef and chicken. The flour damper bread was surprisingly delicious and warm. She smeared the bush honey across the firm crust with her finger. Outside the hut, Kai heard quiet sounds of people talking to one another as they passed. Every now and again there was laughter. The homey setting and warm welcome made Kai relax. She had been worried about what kind of reception they would get. Little by little, she was feeling relief—a
profound relief. She hadn't realized how tense and anxious she'd been about the whole journey.

As Kai sucked the last of the honey from her fingers, Yirrkala reentered the hut. She removed the platter, cups and pitcher, and left the three of them alone once more.

“Bush food is best,” Ooranye told them in halting pidgin English. “When I was very little, white men came and stole me from my mother and family. I was taken to Adelaide, where I was taught English and told that my own language was never to be spoken again.”

Kai's heart ached for the old woman.

“I spent the next twenty years as a servant to a rich white man and his family. Always, my heart yearned to come home to here.” She pointed to the red sand with her index finger. “One day, I got the courage to escape and I ran. I would rather die in the bush than be made into a person I was not. I finally found my way here, to my home. My mother was alive and so happy to see me. All my brothers and sisters were still missing, so she was very glad to have me return.”

“And you've lived here in Kalduke since then?” Kai asked. Outside, the sun was changing position, slanting ever westward, she noted. Even though the day was still hot, the interior of the hut was cool. Surprisingly so.

Chuckling deeply, Ooranye said, “Oh, no! This place is where the government asks us to have an ‘official' village. Our people follow the Rainbow Serpent's instructions, which she gives to us yearly. She tells us where to go and when. We have only come back to this place because I knew you were coming. No, we are usually out there.” She
gestured toward the desert that surrounded them. “The government needs us to have a place we call home. They do not understand that home for us is all over the bush, not just here.” She chuckled again and shook her head.