Running Barefoot (36 page)

I walked into the kitchen where I’d left Samuel a few minutes before. I gathered the butter, evaporated milk, sugar, vanilla, and cocoa powder as we chatted about this and that. Soon the smell of hot fudge sauce wafted through the kitchen, and I sighed in contentment. Grabbing a couple bowls, I scooped up two large servings of cookie dough ice cream and drizzled generous amounts of hot chocolate over the top.

“Let’s eat!” I declared, sitting down and scooping up a giant spoonful of ice cream.

Samuel laughed right out loud, a rich rumble that echoed in my heart.

“What?” I said, my mouth full of ice cream.

“You make me laugh.”

“Why?”

“You’re this beautiful girl, blond curls, big blue eyes. You always wear dresses and paint your toenails and you’re completely old fashioned - books, music, you name it…you’re completely all girl. I just didn’t expect you to dig in like that. You did the same thing earlier tonight at the pond. You like food. I thought for sure you’d put a napkin on your lap and eat very small spoonfuls like a dainty little lady.”

“Lady, schmady,” I giggled. “I love to eat. That’s why I run every morning. Otherwise, I might grow to be very voluptuous and rubenesque.”

“I’m not sure what rubenesque means exactly, but I’m sure it would look good on you.” Samuel dug in to his bowl as well, and we enjoyed our ice cream in silence, until the last of the hot fudge sauce was scraped away. I restrained myself from licking my bowl. Samuel didn’t.

“That was unbelievable sauce,” he said appreciatively.

“Yep! My mom’s own recipe. It’s an original.”

I washed our bowls, and Samuel wandered in to the family room and sat on the piano bench, watching me through the narrow door opposite the kitchen sink.

“Will you come with me to see my grandma?”

“Nettie?” I questioned, confused.

“No. I want you to come to Arizona with me and meet my Grandma Yazzie.”

My eyes flew to his face, and I could see from the firm set of his wide mouth that he was serious.

“When?”

“Tomorrow.”

“But…I have to work at the shop tomorrow and…how long would we be gone?”

“Your aunt wouldn’t let you go?”

“Of course she would. I don’t have anything scheduled. I would just be there for walkins.”

“Dilcon is over 700 miles away. We’d need an entire day of driving each way, and I want to stay for three days in between. So five days. Tomorrow is Saturday. We’d be back late on Wednesday night. Could you arrange it?”

I bit my lip as I mulled it over. I was so tempted. The long hours of driving were incredibly enticing - conversation with Samuel was always enlivening, and the thought of listening to music and talking for hours on end with him were more than I could pass up. My dad was gone. He wouldn’t be calling home - cell phone reception wasn’t available where he was going. I would have to cancel my piano lessons - but the loss of revenue wouldn’t hurt me. What did I have to spend my money on anyway? I guess I hesitated a moment too long.

“Please, Josie?” His voice was insistent. “I want you to meet her. I’ve told her about you. You’ll love her.”

I turned to face him. “Alright. I’ll go. I’ve always wanted to meet her. But!” I held up one finger as a stipulation, “I can’t leave bright and early. I have to call my students and Louise -”

“Call them on the way, Josie. Bring your cell phone. I’ll pick you up at 6:00 a.m.”

So much for ‘please Josie.’ Bossy Samuel was back. Bossy really wasn’t the right word. He was more blunt and plain-spoken, but calling him bossy made me feel better when he started giving orders. He continued on:

“I want to get to the reservation before dark. It’s hard enough to find Grandma’s hogan in the daytime. And she could be anywhere. I called the trading post when I got back stateside and left a message for her. I told her to plan on me this weekend. I got word to her through the man that works at the trading post. I called him today, and he said she’d been in with one of her rugs. He gave her the message for me.”

“Is that how you communicate?” I said incredulously.

“It works. Grandma doesn’t read or write, and she doesn’t have a phone.”

I felt a frisson of unease that this meeting might be very awkward. Talk about two different worlds. Samuel must have seen something in my face, because he stood and walked to where I still stood, leaning against the sink. He reached out and ran a hand lightly down my cheek.

“Don’t worry. Grandma is easy to love. Just think of it as an adventure.”

I smiled tremulously.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, his voice husky.

“I promise to pack some jeans and boots,” I said with a grimace. I’d given up wearing my Wranglers and hand me down tshirts long ago. I still had them (who doesn’t in Levan?) but they weren’t my preference.

“My grandma wears a skirt every day too….but, yeah. You might want to bring some jeans, unless you have a big long pioneer skirt you like riding a horse in,” he teased. He slipped quietly out the door, and I heard the truck start up and drive away.

I sped up the stairs and started throwing stuff in my suitcase. It was almost 10:00. I would never be able to sleep. My heart thudded in anticipation.

18. Oratorio

I slept restlessly, getting up to repack my bag several times. I’d never been on an indian reservation. I had no idea what I’d need. I woke up before the alarm and laid there feeling tired and wishing I hadn’t agreed to go, wondering what had initiated such a bone-headed move. Actually, I knew why I was going; if I was being honest with myself it was strictly to spend time with Samuel, which again was completely moronic. Samuel would leave again. Soon. And I would be back here again. Soon.

I threw off my covers and showered, trying to get the sleep-deprived, hairy eyeball feeling to retreat. I was ready before Samuel got there and sat on the front porch waiting with Yazzie. He laid his big head in my lap and looked at me with mournful eyes. He knew I was going and that he wasn’t coming with me. Samuel had called after he left last night and said Nettie would come and feed the chickens and look after Yazzie. It embarrassed me a little that she knew I was going with him, although I appreciated him making arrangements for Yazzie. I wonder what she thought of his invitation. I really didn’t want to know. I hoped she would be quiet about it, but figured the entire town would know shortly. Maybe when I got back it would be old news. I sighed gustily, knowing that I was going to get curious looks for a long time for this little “adventure” Samuel had planned.

Samuel pulled up promptly at 6:00, and my heart sped up like a silly girl when he shut off his truck and stepped out, a small smile playing around his lips.

“Ready?”

I gave Yazzie a hug and a nuzzle and stepped off the porch with my bag. I may not have known exactly what to pack, but I knew enough to realize that showing up at Stella Yazzie’s hogan with a huge trunk full of clothes and toiletries would be all wrong. I’d packed as light as I possibly could.

Samuel looked at my duffle approvingly and took it from me as he eyed my worn Levi’s. I’d dressed them up a little with a gauzy white tunic and hoop earrings. I just couldn’t rough it completely. I had on a pair of sandals, too. I put my old boots behind the front seat of his truck, knowing I would need them once we got there.

“Yep, all girl,” Samuel smirked.

“Hey, I can ride a horse, muck out the stalls, milk a cow and fight off ornery chickens, Mister,” I said tartly. “I just like dressing like a girl. I spent too many years wearing my brother’s old clothes. Do you have a problem with that?”

“No ma’am. I definitely don’t have a problem with the way you look,” Samuel replied, all signs of teasing gone from his voice.

I swallowed hard and tried not to smile.

Samuel had gassed up the truck before he’d come for me, and there was a Diet Coke in the cup holder waiting for me, as well as a heavenly smell coming from a brown bag sitting on the seat.

“Sweaty Betty’s cinnamon rolls!” I yelped, recognizing the aroma.

“What did you just call her?” Samuel raised his eyebrows as he slammed his door and started up the truck.

I filled him in on Betty’s unfortunate nickname as I happily munched on the warm, sticky piece of paradise.

“I wish I’d known her nickname before I inhaled three of those rolls.” Samuel shuddered in mock horror.

“If you’ve lost your appetite I still have room for this last one,” I supplied, licking my fingers. “Say what you want about Levan, but it definitely has its perks. Sweaty Betty’s cooking is one of them, sweat and all.”

“Honestly, I have nothing but good things to say about Levan.” Samuel rested his forearms against the steering wheel, settling in for the long drive.

“Really?” I was a little surprised. I remembered how his grandmother’s words at my kitchen table so many years ago had left a different impression. “Do you think you would ever want to live here?” As soon as the words left my mouth I viciously regretted them, realizing how eager and desperate I must seem - like a woman who was already making wedding plans and looking at houses. I hadn’t meant it like that.

Samuel stared out his window for a minute and then looked at me soberly, his eyebrows drawn down in a slight V.

“No Josie. I don’t think I’d want to live here,” Samuel said softly.

I considered opening the door and hurling myself out onto the highway. I bit down on the urge to explain myself, realizing that anything I said would just dig the hole deeper. I finished my cinnamon roll without enjoying it and gulped down half of my Diet Coke. The awkward silence between us remained for many miles as the morning sun climbed sluggishly above the hills and stretched its long arms across the sleepy valley to the left of the long stretch of I-15 we traveled along. We would be traveling on I-15 for 90 miles until we turned off onto I-70 and traveled east towards Moab, cutting down through Monument Valley and into Arizona.

We finally relaxed into conversation, and I relinquished my discomfort as he shared experiences of his life in the military. I tried to find humorous anecdotes from daily life in Levan. We had led very different lives for the past few years, but somehow I didn’t feel alienated from him because of his experiences like I once had when I’d read his letters. I just wanted to know more, to understand him better.

We stopped for a late lunch in Moab but were on the road again within fifteen minutes, fast food between us. Samuel wanted to reach his grandmother’s before we ran out of daylight, and we had a ways to go yet. The landscape had steadily grown more stark and dramatic. Huge plateaus and jutting mountains thrust upwards out of the flats, like enormous castles coated in thick red rock. I’d often wondered how the fleeing Mormons had felt when their leader had declared that the Salt Lake Valley was “the place.” They’d traveled so far and long, suffering terribly, only to wind up in a rather barren, treeless, waterless valley. How their hearts must have trembled within them and how despair must have threatened to overcome them. But they’d prospered. I wondered now how the ancient indian tribes had existed and thrived in this desert landscape. However breathtaking and majestic it might be, it was completely inhospitable. I must have mused aloud, because Samuel leaned into the wheel and his eyes narrowed on the scenery around us as he began to talk.

“The Hopi actually have an interesting legend about how they came to be on this land.”

“The Hopi?” I questioned blankly.

“The Hopi Indians occupy a section of land here in the four corners area, mostly in the high desert of northeast Arizona, surrounded on all sides by the Navajo Nation. The Hopi are pacifists – in fact Hopi means ‘the peaceful and wise people.’ This story kind of illustrates that quality of humble acceptance that is traditionally Hopi. Anyway, the Hopi say that back when the first humans crawled up from the underworld into this world, mockingbird met them with several ears of corn in all different sizes and colors laid out before him. Mockingbird told them that each tribe or family must pick an ear of corn. The ear of corn would tell them their destiny – for instance, the Navajo were said to have picked the yellow corn which meant they would have great enjoyment but a short life.”

Samuel stopped talking at this point and glanced at me ruefully. “I haven’t necessarily had great enjoyment in my life, so I’m hoping the other half of the Navajo destiny won’t apply either.

“So all the tribes started grabbing the corn. The Utes took the flint corn and the Comanche took the red corn. The Hopi stood by and watched everyone grabbing and jostling for the best ear of corn, but they didn’t take any. Finally, there was only the short blue corn left – the piece nobody else wanted. The short blue corn predicted a destiny of hard work and toil, but also predicted long, full lives. The Hopi leader picked up the blue corn and accepted this destiny for his people, and they wandered around looking for a place to live. Eventually, they came to the three mesas in the desert. The God of death, Masauwu, owned the land. He said they could stay. The Hopi looked around them and said life will be difficult here, but nobody else will want this land, so no one will try to take our land away.”

I laughed out loud at that. “I guess that’s looking at the bright side of things.”

“Well, they had it mostly right. The Hopi were farmers and because they actually came up with successful methods to grow crops in this environment, they were constantly being raided by surrounding Ute, Apache and Navajo tribes who wanted their corn.”

“So nobody wanted their land, but they wanted their crops?”

“Pretty much.”

We drove in silence for many miles more, each of us lost in reflection.

“I like how you know not only your history, but the history of other tribes. You are like my own personal guide of all that is Native American.”

“You’ll find that most of the legends among Native Americans are variations of the same stories. We might tell them a little differently, or have our own slant on things, but they’re all similar, especially among tribes that occupy the same geographic area. The Hopi share a lot of religious similarities with the Navajo. Each tribe is big on religious ceremonies. Both religions center around harmony, of things being in balance, and the importance of having a good heart, which mostly comes from being at peace with the people and circumstances in your life.”