Thunder In Her Body (32 page)

“I have the science degrees.  Sure I know what you mean,” he replied quietly.

“I’m not going to play ombudsman between you and Aaron.  You were perfectly correct in saying that he should have come to you, but you know how guys are?” Blaze said.

“Oh, don’t give me that crap” Lynette spit back at him.  “There’s still the vestige of “let’s keep that li’l gal in her place” or “you have to watch that woman.  Women can piss in your face and convince you that it’s raining,” she sniped. “Somebody I used to know said that a lot!”  She was silent for a moment.  “I’ll be Ok.  I’ll talk to Aaron, but not tonight.  Let me have some self-limited misery for awhile,” she asked, half joking.

Lying in the bed next to Blaze, she rolled over onto her side facing away from him.  She just didn’t feel like winding all around him, she didn’t want to read and she didn’t want to watch TV either.  She wondered what they would wear for the wedding.

“Have you thought about what you’ll wear for the wedding?” she asked, without turning over.

“Yeah,” he said, closing the book he was reading, or at least the pages he was looking at.  She noticed that he hadn’t turned a page in a long time.  Her hearing was acute even when distracted.

“I’ll wear traditional Apache wedding wear,” he said confidently.

“What does that look like?” she asked, turning a quarter way toward him.

“Red tunic shirt with a belt, white or cream leggins’, breechcloth or apron panel and moccasins.”

“What about you?  I haven’t noticed anything on your yellow page, marked dress,” he said.

“I’ve told Clare, Janette and Merrilynn to just wear a nice summery dress.  It wouldn’t make sense for the ladies to go out and pay for something they’ll only wear once. All that foolishness about bridesmaid dresses and fittings, it would be a waste.  I know this wedding is bigger than we expected, but where possible, I’m trying to keep it as simple as possible,” she said dispassionately.

“Have you ever noticed how ugly a lot of bride’s maid dresses are?” she said, this time with a little chuckle.  “I couldn’t do that to them.”

Some of the tension had broken.  He’d been uneasy about her mood.  He hadn’t seen this before.  He didn’t want to impose on whatever was going on in her head, but neither did he want her with hidden, unresolved anger.  He was very familiar with how that festers and turns things ugly.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” he pushed a little.

“I look best in a suit.  Maybe a nice off white suit with pearls,” she said in a very contemplative way. “I have some pearl colored shoes with a small heel.  That might work. Would you like that?” she asked.

“That would be nice,” he replied.  “You’ll look pretty in anything you wear.”

He rolled her back over onto her side facing away from him and tucked his body around hers in spoon-like fashion.  When he began stroking her hip and running his fingers around to her stomach, she immediately relaxed.  She wound one foot onto his leg and slid her toes up and down his calf.  He slipped down in the bed, positioning himself so that his hand followed the contour of her sloping buttocks.  It slipped in between the division, down between the fullest part of her thighs.  His hand inched slowly but deliberately between the canyon, moving forward toward the fluffy dark brown tangle.  Gently he rubbed the warmness, parting the area with his fingers.  He worked with that area patiently.  He needed to know if she was ready.  With this hand, he guided himself easily into her.  She arched her back to more easily accommodate him.  He held tightly to her, so as not to loose the connection, and he lifted his slim, firm pelvis back and forth.  She slowly gyrated her hips in the form of an eight, and he remembered this motion from the dance floor on the night they met.  Surely she knew how badly he wanted her right then, and now he had what he wanted and it was agonizingly delicious.  She alternated where the figure eight began and ended.  He bit her softly on her back and she pulled his arm around, opening his hand and squeezing it onto her breast.  He rolled and kneaded that breast as he moved back and forth.  The pressure on him was great because of the tightly closed position of her thighs.  He wanted to stay with her until she began, what he now knew, was that tell-tale shudder, but he didn’t think he could.  How could she continue, night after night, to give him such overwhelming pleasure, he thought.  He fought for control, he tried to hold on, but he couldn’t, and he buried his head in between her shoulder blades and moaned.  It was a pitiful moan, a life-taking moan.

They lay still for several seconds. He kissed her arm, her shoulder and found his way back up to her neck.  She slipped over the side of the bed, brought a warm cloth back for him and a towel for herself.  She turned out the light with the yellow glow on the night stand, and crawled back into bed with him.  She turned to him, draped her arm over his chest and laid her leg across his.

“I love you.  I love you so much,” she whispered in his ear.

C
HAPTER 21

¤

The Wedding Dress

T
en days before the wedding, just about all was in readiness for the celebration.  Invitations were out, caterers were prepared, participants had been given whatever information was required, the hotel rooms were reserved, and their log cabin was coming along fairly well, though more slowly than they had anticipated.  That was Ok, because they weren’t in any hurry and they’d be gone almost a month on honeymoon.  So on this 4
th
of July weekend, Blaze and Lynette broke from all chores and attended the Apache Ceremonial and Rodeo. An integral part of these festivities was the Dance of the Maidens, a ceremonial rite-of-passing for girls of puberty age.  Held yearly at the Crystal Bend Fairgrounds, the events also included a traditional Native American POW WOW.

As with many cultures world-wide, the coming of age of a young woman – being a time when she leaves childhood and becomes a woman, able to bear children - is a very special time for the girl and her family.  Lynette knew this.  She wondered how many of the girls had undergone
The Sunrise Ceremonial.
  This private, ritual leading up to the final ceremony, takes about four days before commencement of the more public event.  The ritual itself lasts from one to as many as four days depending on the family and how able they are to finance such an expensive event.  Often, several members of the girl’s family or close family friends, contributed objects, materials, food and/or money to finance this event. How the ceremony is conducted depends much on each band of Apaches, but there are some common activities central to the onset.  There are the
Changing Woman Dances
, where the young girl dances through endless stages of life – from young child, to fertile woman, to ancient sage – all connecting and all renewing.  Symbols are utilized in every step of the ceremony, such as spruce (the symbol of the Great Mother earth), birds, hummingbird feathers, crystals, bear claws ( a symbol of fortitude, strength and supernatural powers), and the use of the number four, which symbolizes the four cardinal directions of space and the totality of the Great Spirit.  It can be a rigorous rite-of-passage with an exhausted but proud young woman emerging at its conclusion.

“How do you know these things?” Blaze queried Lynette, using his straw hat to shield her eyes from the sun.  He was so much taller than her.  When she looked up at him with the sun at his back, she squinted from the intense light.  He was always aware of her comfort level.

“These ceremonies are universal in one form or another,” she replied.  “I did a term paper in college on Native-American puberty rituals.  In the broader world, there are the Hispanic
Quincieneras;
in the rich, or I should say, affluent white world, there are the
Debutante or Coming Out Balls
.  Many African-American social organizations have adopted this form of formal introduction to society, which means the girl is ready for dating and later marriage.  And, I took a course in Women’s Studies which included some of these rituals,” she finished.  Blaze often looked at her in amazement.  She knew so much about his people.  She knew so much about so much! He didn’t have to explain every nuance of his dominant culture.  It was part of what made him so comfortable with her, among other things.  Her broad knowledge on so many topics made her an excellent conversationalist, and he liked talking to and listening to her.  When they grew old and there was not as much physicality in their lives, he knew they would still have a lot to talk about.  There could be no better companion for him, he was sure.  She was just special.  That was the word he kept using trying to describe her to his closest friends.

It was a really warm weekend, with temperatures in the lower 80s, but because of the low humidity, the temperature never felt uncomfortable.  They watched the horse riders with their magnificent steeds; the bull riders, barrel racers, and enjoyed hot dogs and Indian fry bread.  Lynette delighted at the men’s
fancy dance
competition.  This was not her first POW WOW as a similar event is held yearly in Austin.  She’d also attended one at the Alabama-Coushatta Reservation in east Texas.  However, there was something special about this event and she felt like she belonged there.  It all seemed so authentic.  The costume colors were bright and vibrant, and the male dance contestants, often imitating the movements of animals, made the feathers move to the mesmerizing beat of the drummers, no matter how fast they beat and chanted.  The chanter teams competed against each other.  Their voices, the high-pitched yells, and the heart-throbbing beating of the huge central drum, held Lynette in place, almost in a trance, broken only by the abrupt ending of each session.  Blaze watched her fully engrossed in the chanting and drumming.  He was aware of the changing energy that emanated from her, and he could feel the excitement rising around her as she enjoyed this ritual that had become so commonplace to him.

This was a small, tight knit community.  Blaze was well-known and highly respected in both the Native and white communities.  Talk had gotten around.  Many of the people from the area had heard about Blaze’s impending marriage, and they came over to offer their congratulations and to take a look at the lady who had stolen his heart. Some lifted her left hand to view the ruby and diamond engagement ring.  The men winked at Blaze as if to say that he had honored his woman well; the women winked at her in approval.  Because of her looks, she was innocently queried about her “clan”.  It seemed that no one knew that she was ethnically black.  It didn’t matter. She glowed from all the attention, and Blaze seemed so proud to introduce her to everyone they met.  Lynette did notice a couple of beautiful Native women who seemed to know Blaze, but purposely avoided him.  She wondered if they’d been lovers of his, and knew what they had lost.  She wasn’t in the least bit jealous.  He was hers, she was his, and whatever  happened before her was of no consequence.

Then, standing near one of the concession stands, Lynette spied the ugly Indian she had observed in the restaurant the other day.  He was glaring right at them, and did not turn his head when Lynette glanced at him.  Nudging Blaze, her eyes told him to look over his shoulder.  He turned part way and looked around until he, too, noticed the Indian.  Blaze gave him a brief look, then turned away.

“Pay no attention to him, Babe.  He ain’t worth noticin’!,” Blaze counseled.  “I need to go on and handle that matter as soon as possible,” he said thoughtfully.

It was at the Dance of the Maidens that Lynette had the revelation about her attire.  Here less than two weeks before the wedding and she still hadn’t selected a wedding dress, gown or suit.  Now she knew why.  The Universe, as always, was at work.  She would not wear a suit.  She would wear a traditional Native dress.  If it couldn’t be made of doe skin, she would find an off-white suede, or shami fabric, and have someone make it for her.  She would come to him attired in traditional, if not authentic, Native wear.  But, Oh, my God, how would she find someone to make such a dress in so short a time?

She turned to Lucinda Escobedo, the Apache lady who cleaned the house once a week.  She was a delightful woman, about Lynette’s age, with big round cheeks, a wide, full smile and a plump body that made you want to just hug her like a teddy bear.  They’d talked several times over these few short weeks, and Lynette enjoyed her stories of growing up in the Four-Corners area, where New Mexico, Arizona, Colorado and Utah meet. Lucinda or Lucy as the guys called her, was tri-lingual – fluent in Spanish and English, and able to converse in the regional Apache dialect.  She married very young and her husband brought her to live with his people in central New Mexico.  She spoke often and fondly of her spouse and it seemed that they had a good marriage.  She wished Lynette and Blaze much happiness and giggled when she found out that they met and fell in love right away.  Lucy shared with Lynette the reason she wound up in Crystal Bend.  It was because she and Jaime fell deeply in love from their first sight.  Her parents, who lived on another reservation in far northern New Mexico, had another young man in mind for her to marry, but she rejected him in favor of Jaime, so they ran away together and came there.  She said she never regretted the trauma of leaving her family and over the years they had reconciled.  Jaime had been a good husband.  He never raised a hand to her even in anger.  He didn’t drink too much, and they had a nice, big double-wide manufactured home with a garden out back where she grew vegetables.  Early in their marriage, she had a couple of miscarriages, but eventually gave him four sons and one daughter, as she put it.  None of her children lived on the reservation, but they came home frequently to visit, and, in fact, had been there for the POW WOW.  That’s why she had to shift her cleaning day to later in the week, so she could spend as much time with them as possible.  Lucinda was a gentle and kind woman, knowledgeable in the Native culture and traditions of the Apache.  Surely she would know of a seamstress, and surely they could find the cloth!