Hope Springs - 05 - Wedding Cake (14 page)

Darlene kept telling her that she had that “youthful glow” about her. Iris teased her about sporting a new hairstyle and wearing lip-stick. Maria just watched her carefully, calling her out when she seemed distracted, occasionally making comments that Charlotte was not being prudent or careful enough. Even his ex-wife, Carla,
seemed to enjoy the budding romance, telling Charlotte from time to time some of the things she remembered Donovan enjoyed.

“Don’t take him to the theater,” she commented once after supper when she had heard from the other women that Charlotte was going out with him. “He hates that,” she added.

Charlotte was uncomfortable with getting advice from her date’s ex-wife, but since she was a client, she wasn’t sure how to talk to Carla about her discomfort, so she just let her say the things she wanted to say and offered no response.

Charlotte denied being different when the women teased her, but deep down, she did feel unlike she ever had before. She felt more alive, and oddly more aware of little things she had never noticed before. One day she found herself staring at the tiny yellow flowers blooming behind the shelter near the garage, flowers she had never seen in seasons before. She noticed the way water felt falling across her shoulders in the shower, never really having felt water before. For the first time, she seemed to taste the taste of sweet things. Colors seemed brighter, and she felt as if she had more energy than she had had in a long time. Never in all her imagination had she expected that beginning a relationship could be so visceral, so life-altering. She had heard all the talk of what falling in love was like but she had never really believed that having these feelings could literally change the taste of food.

Charlotte took in a breath and walked back into the front room. Donovan smiled as she stood in front of him.

“What?” she asked, uncertain of the meaning of his smile.

He shrugged. “You just look really pretty tonight,” he said.

Charlotte blushed. “I look the same as I always look,” she responded,
pulling on her jacket. “Will this be heavy enough?” she asked. “I already packed away my big coat.”

Donovan helped her pull the jacket on. “It will be fine. It’s just a little chilly where we’re going and I didn’t want you to get cold.”

“So, where are we going?” she asked as she held open the door for him to walk out first.

“It’s my favorite place for dinner,” he replied, sounding mysterious.

The two of them headed down the front steps, and he held open the car door as she sat down inside.

“Am I dressed okay?” she asked as he got into his seat and started the engine. She was worried that if he was taking her to a fancy restaurant, she might be a bit underdressed. She looked down at her jeans.

“You’re fine,” he replied, and they headed down the road.

“Is this place out of town?” Charlotte asked.

He didn’t answer right away, and she watched as they turned onto Highway 666 heading north toward Tohatchi. She knew that soon they would be moving through the vast Navajo Reservation that was between Gallup and Farmington, stretching east and west for many miles. She could see that her question was being answered as the car headed out of Gallup.

“We’re going to a special place from my youth. I want you to see the sun set from my perspective,” he replied finally.

“Are we going to Chaco Canyon?” she asked, thinking that it was in the direction they were heading. Charlotte knew that Chaco Canyon was a new national park and on Navajo land. She had visited there when she first moved into the area, researching the stories of the early inhabitants and enjoying a day of hiking and sightseeing at
the pueblo ruins and petroglyphs. It had been one of her most favorite places she had visited since living in New Mexico.

“No, we’re not going that far north,” he answered.

Charlotte glanced around at the old hogan villages, home to many Navajo people. “Is this where you grew up?” she asked, never having heard exactly where his home had been.

“Around these parts,” he replied. “I’ll take you to meet my family sometime soon,” he added.

Charlotte smiled. She had wondered if the time would ever come for her to meet his family. She wondered how meeting family members worked for people in their middle years. She knew it was a part of the natural order of deepening relationships for young people, but she wasn’t sure for folks after they reached a certain age. She found herself getting anxious thinking about the occasion of meeting Donovan’s family and then tried shaking off her nerves since she realized that wasn’t where they were heading.

They drove north for about half an hour before he turned off onto a dirt path, going west. “Hold on because this is going to be bumpy,” he explained. They drove for another ten or fifteen minutes until the dirt path stopped at what appeared to be a large but empty creek.

“This is Nakaibito.” He turned off the engine and opened his door. Charlotte reached for the handle and opened hers as well. “Mexican Springs,” she heard him say.

Charlotte assumed he was referring to the name of the little village they had passed just before turning on the dirt path and heading to the creek.

“I used to come out here all the time when I was a boy, watching hawks, tracking coyotes. There are about four different washes that come through here. When they were dry I’d walk them all and dig
along the sides for old bones and fossils. You can go for miles in these washes.”

He waited until Charlotte was out and standing beside him. He pointed to two hills standing side by side to the west of where they had parked. “That’s Twin Buttes,” he explained. “We’re standing at the southern tip of the Chuska Mountains. I grew up on the northern ridge, near the Arizona border, Sanostee,” he added. “My family is spread out all along this part of the reservation. From Shiprock to Window Rock, you’ll find someone from my clan.” He stopped, and Charlotte looked all around her, miles and miles of desert.

“My mother’s parents were from the northern part of the territory. My father’s are the ones from this part. Many of my cousins live round here.”

Charlotte followed his gaze back in the direction they had just come.

“We took the last name Sanchez after the Spanish arrived. But we tend to honor each other more by the clan from which we came than from a last name given to us by the government.” He paused.

“My mother is from the Turtle Clan but we have family in many of the other clans as well. I went to school in Gallup, came home only for vacations and summer.” He shielded his eyes and looked westward. “I swore at the beginning of every summer that I wasn’t going back to the city for school, but by September, I always did.”

Charlotte glanced at Donovan. She wondered about his childhood and how difficult it must have been to be shipped to school so far away. Her growing-up years had never been easy, but at least she was always close to home as a child in school. At least she lived with her mother and sister year round. “How long have you lived in town?” she asked.

“Most of my adult life,” he replied. “After high school, I took the community college classes in criminal justice. I had planned to come back here and be a policeman for the tribe but I was offered a job in Gallup, so I took that.” He wiped his forehead. “And that’s where I’ve been ever since.”

He turned to Charlotte. “That’s where I live.” He stopped for a second and looked back across the horizon. “In the city, I mean. But this, this land, this desert with her washes and canyons and tall stone faces, this is home.”

Charlotte looked around her. The sun was starting to set, and with that change in the sky and land, she could immediately see why Donovan loved this place for this time of the day. It was truly magical, the horizon growing redder and redder, the hills in the distant background, the shadows lengthening all around them. For miles and miles there was not another living person. She could hear the distinct call of crows and the evening breeze dancing through the tiny new leaves on the cottonwoods. Off in the distance she heard a dog barking, but there was nothing else. It was the most quiet she had ever experienced.

“My growing up was nothing like yours,” she said to Donovan. He turned to her to listen. “I grew up in small, cramped apartments on noisy streets down south.” She hesitated, remembering what her early life had been like.

“Not in the city, really,” she explained, “just in loud places.” She leaned back against the car. “At night I used to pull my pillow over my head just trying to find some quiet.” She shook her head. “There were drunks fighting on the streets beneath us, televisions blaring in the next apartment, children crying, people arguing. I tried and tried to make quiet for myself but I never found any.” She closed her eyes
and drew in a long breath. “This, this quiet, is what I longed for my entire life,” she explained.

Donovan waited for just a minute and then walked around the car and opened the trunk. He pulled out a blanket and a large basket. While Charlotte watched he walked away from the car and spread the blanket by the edge of the wash, under a large tree. He waved her over while he began emptying out the basket.

“What’s this?” she asked, walking over to where he had placed the blanket.

“This is the special place I told you about,” he replied. He pulled out grapes and wild plums, a huge piece of cheese, large round slices of bread, a small bag of cookies, and a bottle of wine.

Charlotte sat down.

“Welcome to my favorite place for dinner,” he said with a smile. He opened the bottle of wine and poured a glass for Charlotte, handing it to her.

“I don’t drink too much,” she said, taking the wine.

“I understand,” he responded. “I don’t either. But I thought we could enjoy a glass just for tonight,” he added.

Charlotte nodded and took a sip. It was sweet, and it warmed her throat as she swallowed. She reached for a plum and took a bite.

Donavan watched as the juice spilled down her chin. He leaned over and wiped it off with his hand. He slid his thumb across her cheek and held her chin in his hand. Suddenly he leaned over and kissed her, and Charlotte started to feel dizzy. When he pulled away, she could feel her face start to redden. She quickly turned away, hoping he didn’t see her blush. She cleared her throat and took another sip of wine.

“I’m sorry,” he said, thinking he had acted too swiftly, noticing Charlotte’s discomfort.

“No,” she responded quickly. “Don’t be sorry,” she added. “I’m just …” She searched for the right words. “I just don’t have a lot of experience in this kind of thing,” she confessed.

“And what kind of thing might that be?” he asked. “Picnics?” he teased.

She smiled. “Kisses and wine,” she explained.

Donovan nodded. “Don’t let the setup fool you,” he responded. “I don’t have so much experience myself.”

Charlotte ate the rest of her plum and then placed the large pit on a napkin in front of where she was sitting. “You’ve been married.”

Donovan glanced up at her. It seemed as if her remark had caught him off guard. And yet, as startled as he was at the comment, he knew, as did Charlotte, that eventually they were going to have to discuss his ex-wife and their relationship.

“True,” he responded. “But that was a long time ago, and it was different for me and Carla,” he added. He took out a pocket knife, cut off a piece of cheese, and reached for a piece of bread. He handed them both to Charlotte and then did the same for himself.

“Different how?” Charlotte asked, taking his offering. She was not sure of what he meant, but glad finally to be talking about his former marriage.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “I mean we were young and it just seemed like it was my body directing everything that happened, more than my mind or my heart.” He ate the cheese and bread and swallowed. “We were sixteen when we met, the hormones were raging, if you know what I mean.”

Charlotte nodded. She took a couple of bites as well.

“We got married when we graduated from high school.”

Charlotte didn’t respond. She already knew that.

“She was pregnant,” he added, and that information completely caught Charlotte off guard.

“You have a child?” she asked, swallowing hard, feeling as if this news somehow changed things even though she wasn’t sure how at the moment.

Donovan shook his head. “The baby died,” he replied. “It was born too early,” he added.

“I’m sorry,” Charlotte responded, not knowing what else to say.

Donovan shrugged and took a sip of his wine. “It was really harder on Carla,” he acknowledged. “I was a kid and stupid. I didn’t know too much.”

Charlotte didn’t say anything.

“Anyway, the years and the differences between us, mostly me being a police officer, the loss of the baby, it was all just more than our youthful marriage could stand. So, we broke up.”

Charlotte took another drink of her wine and could feel the alcohol taking its effect on her. She was light-headed and knew that she should eat a little more. She reached over for another piece of bread and in doing so, knocked over her glass, spilling the rest of her wine on the blanket. “Oh no,” she yelled, jumping up and trying to clean the mess with the napkins from the basket.

“It’s okay,” Donovan said, reaching over and wiping up the spill. “It’s no big deal,” he added.

Charlotte sat back down. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“It’s nothing,” he responded, picking up the wet napkins and dropping them in the basket. “You’re just a lightweight when it comes to alcohol, and I now know how to take advantage of you.”

Charlotte smiled, hoping that the light from the sky had faded enough so that maybe he couldn’t see how red she knew her face had
become. She cleared her throat. “And you never dated after Carla?” she asked, returning to the conversation they were having before she spilled her drink.

He shook his head. “Well, a couple of times, but nothing ever worked out, so I became very involved in my work and I learned how to enjoy spending a lot of time by myself.”

“Coming out here?” Charlotte asked.

“Coming out here,” he replied.

“And I’m the first woman you’ve brought to Nakaibito?”