He waited for her, made room for her to sit beside him. When she had settled, he lit the sage bundle, letting it burn for a moment before blowing out the flame, a column of white smoke filling the air with the sharp scent of burning sage. Next, he took his eagle feather out of its box, passed it over the column of smoke four times. Then he smudged himself, fanning the smoke over his head and onto his body with the feather.
She expected him to speak a few words in Lakota and then put everything away, as she’d seen him do before. Instead, he picked up the abalone shell with the sage bundle in it, turned toward her, and wafted the smoke over her.
“Tunkasila, Creator, I ask that you be with Naomi today, giving her strength, guiding her to the right path. She has not had an easy journey, but she is strong and courageous. Help her to know that she is not alone, and help her to find the answers she seeks. All my relations.Mitakuye Oyasin.”
Tears trickled down Naomi’s cheeks. Not knowing what to say, she went with what she knew. “Amen.”
It was the first time she’d said anything to God in ages.
Chaska put the eagle feather back in its box, kissed her, took her hand. “It’s going to be okay. No matter what happens, it will be okay.”
“I hope you’re right. What if he doesn’t like me? What if …?” There were so many “what ifs.”
Chaska was quiet for a moment, his brow bent. “Some of our ceremonies can become difficult at times—Sun Dance,hanbleceya,inipi. Before my first Sun Dance, my grandfather said to me, ‘When you’re afraid or weary, pray for strength for the man next to you.’ On the third day, the day I was supposed to pierce, I was nervous. I started praying for all of the other dancers—not for myself, but for them. When it was my time to pierce, I walked up to that tree, feeling strong, my fear gone.”
She wasn’t sure why he was telling her this.
He went on. “I know you’re nervous, angel, but I’ll bet Doug Otter Tail is nervous, too. What if you don’t likehim? What if you’re angry at him? How is he going to explain all of this to his wife and children? When you feel afraid, think good thoughts for him.”
Chaska’s words came together for her, putting a lump in her throat.
“I hadn’t thought about that.” Somehow, knowing that this man would be nervous, too, made her feel less afraid. “Your grandfather must be a very special man. God, what if he doesn’t like me?”
This made Chaska laugh. “He’s going to love you.”
They dressed and went downstairs for breakfast, where Winona was getting the guest bedroom ready. “You’re sleeping together, right? Old Man can stay in here?”
Naomi’s face burned.
Chaska chuckled. “Yes.”
After breakfast, Winona headed off to the clinic, while Chaska drove Naomi to her appointment, where they took X-rays of her ankle, removed her stitches, and told her that everything looked fine. Dr. Renshaw examined her, gave her a boot to wear for stability, and warned her not to put weight on that leg for another month.
They made a quick trip to Food Mart after that to grab things that Chaska knew his grandfather liked to eat—Spam, Cup Noodles, and lots of Coca-Cola—and drove home again. There were no cars in the driveway, no one waiting for them.
“When do you think they’ll get here?” Butterflies danced in Naomi’s stomach.
“That depends on how much time Old Man spends talking with his buddies. It’s only a two-hour drive from Cheyenne to Scarlet.”
Naomi did her best to keep busy. She helped Chaska clean Winona’s hummingbird feeders one by one and then cooked a batch of hummingbird food based on a recipe of Win’s. When it had cooled, Chaska carried the pitcher of liquid out to the porch for her and gave her a plastic measuring cup to use to refill them.
But Naomi wasn’t fast on her crutches, and the hummingbirds discovered the food in the measuring cup before she could pour the mixture into a feeder. They flocked to her, sipping straight from the cup. One even landed on her hand, perched there for just a moment. “Chaska, come see!”
“They like you.”
“They like the sugar water.”
Like bright jewels, they hovered only a foot from her face, dipping their beaks into the sugary concoction, drinking it up.
That’s how Chaska’s grandfather found her—standing on the porch with her crutches, holding a measuring cup, hummingbirds flitting around her.
Elderly and bent with a face that resembled a weathered, old pumpkin, he chuckled when he saw her. “Hihanni waste. Good morning.”
Behind him walked another man—tall, with short dark hair, his face now familiar.
Doug Otter Tail.
Naomi’s pulse spiked, her heart taking off.