SEALs of Summer 2: A Military Romance Superbundle (31 page)

His grandfather, the keeper of the stories, which had been drowned out over the past several years, with Danny’s pot and alcohol use, was dying. His mother wanted him to come say his good-byes. Grandfather had been more than a father-in-law to his mother. He’d been her ardent supporter when the rest of Danny’s family refused to fully accept the strange woman from another clan far away.

“We have sent for the singers, though he insists there’s still time and he might pull through.”

This had happened twice before, and both times, before Danny could arrange to drive to Arizona, his grandfather recovered in what the family called a true miracle. He halfway expected the same would happen again.

“He is barely conscious, and he’s asking for you,” his mother said, as if she heard his internal musing. This had not been the case on the two prior occasions.

“So should I come?” he asked her. He recalled the image of her proud face and the jet-black hair, usually held with a turquoise clip at the nape of her neck. He always saw her that way in his visions, along with the squash blossom necklace and bracelets adorning her smooth, brown skin. Even with her lines and obvious signs of stress and aging, she was still statuesque, impressive, tall, even for a Miwok, not like his father’s people. He couldn’t see her as beautiful, with her crooked nose from a teenage injury. She’d been left slightly disfigured. She was his mother and a force of nature, not a beautiful woman, even though everyone else thought of her as such. She still had the power to make him weak at the knees, just as when he was a child.

“You should come, Danny. I think it’s time.”

He inhaled sharply as if she’d hit him. He wasn’t ready to step back into the world and the source of the whispers. He was hit with the vision of the costumed Gods of his people waiting in the wings, hovering all around him like a warm woven blanket, their leather adorned with beads and feathers blowing gently in the wind. He imagined their chalky faces painted in the wild colors he saw when he was tripping on mushrooms. They waited to be asked to show him the way. He’d make them wait a little longer.

His mother cleared her throat over the phone and Danny was sucked back into the here and now. He assured her he’d leave for Arizona that day.

“You have enough money for a ticket, or should I make the reservation for you?” she asked. So it was that serious after all.

“I’d prefer to drive.”

“There isn’t time, Danny. You can catch a flight from Santa Rosa and be here in four hours. I’ll have Wilson meet you at the airport.”

“Wilson? He’s back?”

“Home on leave.”

Wilson was his favorite cousin, but he was more like a brother. He was the one Danny used to get in trouble with every day as a youth. Irreverently, they made it through the maze that was their Dine upbringing, kicking and screaming and rebelling all they could. Three years ago, Wilson had abruptly called Danny from San Jose, telling him he’d gone military, joining the Navy, and was going to straighten his life out. It was the first time they’d talked since Danny and his mother had moved to Northern California and away from the res. Danny told him he was making a big mistake.

In the past, his mother had spent much of her time trying to separate them, so if she was arranging to have Wilson pick him up, he knew better than to argue with her.

The quiet pause was interrupted by the sound of rustling sheets he was sure his mother couldn’t hear.

“I’ll buy the ticket for a one o’clock flight, but you’ll have to hurry, Danny, unless you want to drive to San Francisco.”

“I’ll make it,” he said and hung up.

‡

T
he red earth
rose up to accept the touch of Danny’s plane as he landed in Phoenix. Wilson was waiting for him at the baggage level, his chiseled frame erect and his hair way shorter than Danny had ever seen it. When his cousin hugged him, Danny could tell he’d honed his body into a hard killing machine.

“Careful, Wilson, you could crack my ribs with those arms of yours. You’re a fuckin’ lethal warrior.”

Wilson chuckled as he squeezed him harder, and Danny actually thought he heard the pop of one of his vertebrae.

“Damn, Dine kind. You’re all soft and mushy. You’ve been populating Northern California with little Navajo babies these few years, cousin?”

Danny resented Wilson’s tone and the fact that he noticed his lack of shape. Although he was still tall, and broad-shouldered, and never lost the definition in his upper physique, Danny knew he didn’t have the rock hard abs and stamina Wilson now possessed. Leave it to Wilson to point out the one thing probably no one else would see, the needle that got under his skin. “Nah. Just trying to figure it out, man.”

“Well, that’s one way,” Wilson leaned into Danny and whispered in his ear, “but I’ll tell you, Cuz, the sex is much better when you’re hard as a rock. Get my drift?”

“I’m not having sex with you, Wilson, even though I’m living in Northern California,” Danny said as he pushed his cousin so hard he toppled him into the baggage carousel, where he took a two-foot cruise with the suitcases. The string of expletives coming from Wilson’s mouth as he righted himself made a nearby mother cover the ears of her child.

They fought over Danny’s bags, just like they’d done when they were kids, fighting and competing over everything, usually making such a mess that neither of them won a damned thing. The crowd of passengers gave them a wide berth, staring without smiles.

“You seen him?” Danny asked as they traveled in Wilson’s old pickup.

“Yeah. Yesterday. He’s slipping away. We’re going straight there on orders from your mama.”

“He know it was you?”

“Nope. Not sure he’ll recognize you either, Danny. He’s in the inbetween land, talking to, well, you know how he is. I mean, he was doing that shit all the while we were growing up. Except it’s stronger now.”

“So what does he say?”

“You know, I haven’t talked the language in over four fuckin’ years. I can’t understand a fuckin’ word. You’d think I would.”

“He makes up his own language,” Danny inserted. “Always did. Part of his Code Talker thing.”

“Yeah.” Wilson laughed. They’d seen Grandfather and his buddies speak the pigeon language, just like they’d done in WWII, which was a combination of Navajo, Choctaw, and some other languages sprinkled in. They still had funny descriptions of people like ‘mustache sniffers’ and ‘goat faced women.’ ‘Cabbage eaters’ was a term they always associated with anyone with a German, Eastern European, or Russian accent. Since Grandfather and his cronies didn’t swear, the worst they would say of someone was that they were ‘full of sheep intestines’. Danny took Grandfather’s word that was a bad-smelling thing and not a compliment.

The hospital was
so brightly lit it hurt Danny’s eyes, which were now more accustomed to the low lighting of dusk to dawn, which was now the hours he was awake. Wilson’s high-top boots would have rattled any of the lodges or buildings on the reservation, but here, on the sterile-smelling concrete floor of the hospital, his heavy steps just echoed off the walls.

They were ushered inside a propped doorway to the darkened cubicle that was Grandfather’s room. Danny’s mother was sitting by his side, holding a frail hand laden with tubes. She jumped to her feet upon seeing her son and gave him a hug.

Her smell still resembled the forests outside Ukiah, where they both lived, and he found it comforting.

“Mom.” He nodded, gave her a peck on the cheek, and let her go resume her place by his grandfather.

“Ah,” came the raspy voice of Grandfather as his other fingers splayed out in front of him, searching to touch Danny. “You are here, little cub.”

Danny hadn’t been called that since he was twelve. His flinch set Wilson giggling. He punched his cousin in his arm and pushed him aside, taking up the space on the other side of the bed from his mother.

“Grandfather, I understand you are taking a trip soon.”

Danny’s mother shot him a dangerous look. His grandfather smiled, revealing he’d apparently pulled out more teeth, and something he was known for doing when they began to hurt. His rounded face reminded Danny of a scary pumpkin.

“Long journey, Danny. I’ve packed all my things.” His eyebrows rose into his wrinkled, lined forehead covered with brown age spots the size of Danny’s fingernails. Grandfather’s arthritic finger tapped at his own temple. “Everything’s here,” he whispered and then gushed a ghoulish smile again. He removed his finger from his temple and flicked his fingers toward Danny like he was flicking water from his hand. “And now some of these things are yours.”

His mother turned to look up at Danny’s face, concern resident there.

“Fuck,” he heard Wilson say softly to his back.

Danny felt awkward standing, so he dragged up a chair, sat, and leaned over the bed like his mother did. Taking the gnarled, arthritic fingers of the old man, he spoke, “Well, Mother said you asked for me, and so I am here.” He searched his grandfather’s face, wanting to say something else, but couldn’t find the words.

“You have to remember all the stories I told you, Danny. Your life’s journey is starting now with my passing.”

“Don’t say that, Grandfather. You’ve still got teeth you haven’t managed to pull out yet.”

His grandfather’s grin would have sent little girls screaming from the room.

“Yes,” said the old man. “They all hurt now, but then so do my fingers. I can’t feel my toes anymore, haven’t for about a month.” The old man shrugged. “They are taking me away in pieces, Danny. Can you imagine what that must look like up there in our homeland?” Grandfather’s hand dislodged from his daughter-in-law’s as he swept the air above him. “I’ve got to go get all those parts before they get lost forever.” With effort, he continued, “No one else will be able to recognize them.”

Danny didn’t have to look at Wilson to see how uncomfortable his cousin felt. The steady murmur of swearing warmed his backside as Danny realized how things had changed. His grandfather was telling new stories, and Wilson was swearing like Danny had never heard before. Maybe Grandfather was right. Maybe Danny’s life was the one that stayed stagnant, the same for a reason. Could his adventure just be beginning?

Danny suspected Grandfather had the skill of knowing whatever he was thinking, just like his mother did. “Your calling is just beginning, my grandson. Like I told you ever since you were old enough to understand, there is a special mission you are destined for. You have not yet found your spirit, so it haunts you. Here,” he said as he pointed to his chest. “It isn’t here,” he pointed to his temple. “Or here,” he pointed to his groin. “This is where it all starts,” he declared as he pointed once again to his heart.

The singers had arrived at the doorway. Danny wanted to leave immediately, unable to face the inevitable fact that his grandfather was, indeed, going to go quickly. He knew the old man had waited to see him one last time, and now that had happened there was nothing left to live for. It saddened him, and he didn’t want to let anyone see him cry. But his heart, the place his grandfather had forced him to concentrate on, was hurting. The other big elephant in the room was the fact that Grandfather had been a WWII hero, a Navajo Code Talker, who had helped the United States win the war for the white man’s nation before Chester Begay even had the right to vote for the men who would put him in harm’s way. And Danny Begay had not done anything with his life.

Nothing at all.

He still saw
his grandfather’s eyes following him every step of the way back to the parking lot and to Wilson’s beater. They were headed up towards Flagstaff, closer to the res, to Wilson’s home, and nearer to where the relatives would be gathering. Wilson had cleared his throat several times, keeping up with Danny’s quick retreat. It was their childhood signal he wanted to talk, but didn’t want to request it verbally.

Danny abruptly turned and faced him.

“Would you quit it?”

“What the fuck do you mean?” Wilson asked, scrunching up his nose and forehead.

“Why do you have to say fuck all the time? I heard your language in there,” Danny said as he pointed back to the hospital. “Don’t you have any respect for the near-dead?”

“The man is filled with demons and stories. He’s out of his mind, and he’s scaring you, Danny. Don’t fuckin’ tell me he’s not. You’re gonna feel haunted now. I know you.”

Danny dug his fingers into his palms and squeezed.

“Don’t listen to this shit, Danny. You got away. Stay separated. Get the fuck out of here and stay away. This place isn’t any good for you. Your mama was right.”

“You stayed here. Didn’t seem to hurt you any.” Danny was pissed his emotions were showing.

“Fuckin’ A. Naw, I finished growing up here, seasoned on all this batshit stuff I needed like a fuckin’ hole in my head. I stayed away from your granddad. My mom and the rest of our family never believed any of his shit anyway. Besides, none of them were sober enough to care. I got the hell out when I could, and the Navy undid all the things that were wrong with me. But you, you got away. Consider yourself a fuckin’ survivor.”