Child, Maiden, Woman, Crone
Child (Late Winter, early Spring)
The music filled the valley as Johnny Nobles coerced the strings on his Gibson. He ended the song with a flourish and sat still, eyes closed. The March sun warmed the rock he used as his stage. He waited for applause, but the new corn stood silent.
Two years ago, he sang his only hit song to packed houses across the nation. Today, he sat beside the cornfield on his land, just outside the Navajo Nation. His grandfather had been half Navajo, but his grandmother full-blooded Irish. He spent many days in his youth beside the corn, banging away at an old Alvarez as his grandfather worked the land for a meager living. Johnny sighed.
He missed the adulation of the crowd, the thrill of performing, but his career never blossomed. Friends quit calling. His agent dropped him. The song kept sending decent royalty checks, so he took his nest egg and fixed up the family farmhouse.
He formed a C on the neck and strummed. The resonance of the chord made him smile. He played a tune running through his mind, a new tune, native to his home. He closed his eyes and imagined the sun as the bright lights of the stage. Laughter broke his concentration. He stopped playing and glanced up.
"Very pretty," said a little girl. She looked to be about ten. Dark hair flowed over her shoulders. She wore the traditional blue skirt and blouse of the Navajo.
The round face favored him with a smile, displaying the innocence of the young, but her eyes saw too deep for a child, which unnerved him.
"How did you get here?" Johnny asked.
She laughed. "I belong here," she said "I won't stay long, but I would like to hear." She smiled and the innocence of her face returned. "You play so well."
"Do your parents know where you are?" Johnny looked around, wondering how she appeared without his hearing or seeing her, but when he was playing, he lost himself in the music and experience of performing, even if only in a cornfield.
The little girl stared, holding his attention. "Play," she said with a soft, demanding voice.
Johnny sat up straight, but his hands found the strings. His eyes closed as the melody drifted through him. Words hovered at the edge of his consciousness. He forgot the little girl as he realized that this was a breakthrough moment, if he could only capture the lyrics that hid beneath the music.
He ended the piece with a repeat of the beginning. Silence greeted the finale. He opened his eyes and looked for the little girl, but she was gone. The music pulled at his thoughts. He played the melody again, but the words remained unheard. A gust of wind blew through the valley and he thought he heard a little girl laugh.
Maiden (Late Spring Early Summer)
Johnny recovered from the surprise as he listened to his agent. The shock wore off in stages. "Peter, why did you call? You're not interested in organic farming and you haven't returned my calls in months." He fought down anger, though he knew bitterness seeped into his words.
Peter sighed. "Yeah, kid. I know things didn't go right."
A truck stopped in front of the house. "Peter, get to the point. Two of my workers just came by to pick up their pay."
"I just wanted you to know that I haven't forgotten about you," Peter said. The voice caught at just the right time, a studied and practiced gesture that Johnny understood to be bullshit. "Have you been writing? If you come up with anything new, send it on to me."
"Yeah, Peter," Johnny said. "I'll do that." He hung up the phone before he burnt his last bridge to the music industry. He knew Peter didn't care. The bastard must be desperate to reach out to a one-hit-wonder has-been. Of course, Johnny had been hearing his song on the oldie stations a lot more recently. The royalty check for the last quarter paid for a full year of crops.
"Manuel, James, come on in," he said, opening the door. "You guys want a beer?"
Manuel answered because Manuel always talked. James rarely spoke. "Man, I'd love one, but we've got a bit more work today at the Stevens's."
"Have a seat and I'll get your money," Johnny said. He grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and slapped them on the table. Johnny passed over an envelope. Manuel glanced inside.
"Manuel, how's the field looking?"
Manuel took a swig of the water. "Pretty good, I'd say. We planted a bit early, but we got away with it. The corn is farther along than I thought it would be and it's healthy. I don't see any infestations. Should be a good harvest in July with enough time to plant a second corn crop, I think."
"That's fantastic," Johnny said. "Man, I don't know if I could make it without you two."
Manuel and James stood. Manuel glanced at the guitar beside the front door. "You going out there?"
Johnny smiled, nodding. "Best place I've ever played the guitar."
"We saw a girl walking around in the hills," Manuel said. "Wouldn't mention it, but she seemed out of place."
The little girl he met two months earlier flashed in his mind. "I saw her in March," Johnny said. "Little girl about ten?"
James shook his head. "This girl was older, at least late teens, maybe twenty." His eyes glazed. "Most beautiful girl I've ever seen. One thing I know is she ain't from Navajo land."
Johnny shook his head. "Must be a different girl, then."
Manuel and James left. Johnny grabbed the Gibson and rode to the fields.
****
He sat on the rock, playing the song that captivated him, the song he discovered when the little girl told him to play. Johnny played the tune constantly and heard more in each session. He experimented with different sounds, especially in the small studio set up at the ranch house.
The music broke into four distinctive parts, five if you counted the ending, which repeated the opening. His fingers moved without thought as he made his way through each section of the song. The first part flowed simply into the air, the strings vibrating with playfulness. The second section rocked with unleashed passion. The third section mellowed, but allowed for the most growth. The fourth section confounded him with its minors and majors, difficult to play, and yet, deep and quite eloquent. The ending repeated twelve bars of the opening, creating the illusion of a full circle. He strummed the last chord and opened his eyes.
"Whoo." Johnny smiled and rubbed the fingers of his left hand.
"'Whoo,' indeed," a feminine voice said.
Johnny jumped at the sound and turned. A young Navajo woman stood behind the rock, smiling. She wore a white t-shirt and jeans, matching Johnny's attire. Black hair fell across her shoulders. A turquoise necklace offset her perfect dark skin. She had the slenderness of youth, her body accented with angles and curves, rather than the rounded edges of a woman. He estimated her age as late teens. She looked familiar, but then Johnny noticed the dark eyes staring into and through him. He had seen those eyes before.
"Where did you come from?" Johnny took a ragged breath, trying to hide his nervousness. James was right, he thought. This girl is beautiful.
She moved gracefully to the rock and sat. "I come from the Earth, as we all came." She smiled and Johnny felt his world disappear. She hummed the song he had played. "You have been practicing since we last met."
Johnny shook his head. "We've never met. I'd remember you."
"We've met," she said. "And you do remember."
He studied her and focused on the eyes. He remembered a little girl's laugh and her command to play. Johnny shook his head. Couldn't be, he thought. "What's your name?"
She hesitated, frowning, and then her smile returned. "You can call me Whiteshell Wo-uh." She stopped for a second. "Natalie Whiteshell."
"I'm Johnny Nobles."
"I know who you are, Johnny," she said. "I've been watching you since you took over your grandfather's land."
"Okay," Johnny said, smiling. "Why?"
"Your music," she said.
She stared into his eyes. He heard the wind rustling through the corn stalks. A soft hum hovered over the small valley as if reverberating from the Earth. Natalie opened her mouth and sang. Johnny did not understand the words, but recognized the tune, the same one he played before she surprised him, only her notes harmonized with his Gibson. He secured the strap and played the guitar with her voice as an accompaniment.
The harmony added depth. He had explored the song with his piano, but had never quite captured the texture. Natalie sang and the texture flowed. The wind produced a reed line, while the Earth's hum provided base. They finished on the same note, Natalie smiling.
"Wow!" Other words failed Johnny. "Wow!"
"You play the song well," she said. "It was my gift to you."
Johnny heard a little girl demand that he play as he stared into Natalie's eyes. Sunlight danced across her face, glittering off the turquoise necklace and earrings. The eyes twinkled when she knew that he recognized her.
"But you can't be," Johnny whispered. "You must have a little sister."
Natalie laughed. "Yes, of course, that must be it. And yet I gave you that song." She stood. "I must go."
"Please come back and sing for me again," Johnny said.
She smiled. "I intend to sing for you all year." She turned and walked toward the northern most hills. Johnny watched until he lost her in the rocks. The wind whistled through the valley and her harmony filled his ears. He grabbed a pen and his notebook from the truck and notated the music he heard. The sun dipped beneath the horizon as he finished. He waited in darkness wishing she would return.
****
Natalie returned every day, late in the afternoon. Each visit would begin and end with the song, the song she said she gave him. In between, they would talk, though Johnny began to realize that he talked more than Natalie did. She always made him feel that everything he said was the most important thing in the world. She listened.
"Were there a lot of women on the road?" She asked the question as he finished the Jackson Browne and Eagles tune "Take It Easy." Her eyes held his.
"Yes," Johnny said, and then he strummed a few chords. Heat rose to his face and he knew he blushed.
Natalie reached out a hand and silenced the strings. "Why are you embarrassed? Do you think I am unacquainted with sex?"
He studied Natalie's face and realized that he guessed too low on her age. She had to be in her mid to upper twenties, which considering the urges he had toward her, brought her closer to his age. Twenty was too young. Sometimes, when she stared into his eyes, Johnny wondered if he were too young for her.
Johnny sighed. "There were too many women and every one of them was there for the wrong reasons," he said. He studied his left hand, feeling his calluses ache. "No one wanted me, just who they thought I was."
"That must have been lonely." She moved her hand to his.
"It was," Johnny said, whispering. He looked into her eyes and found compassion.
Natalie smiled. "I understand loneliness without being alone, Johnny. I understand."
He leaned toward her and placed his lips to hers. She returned the kiss for a moment, then abruptly broke away and stood from the rock. "I must go," she said.
"Why? Because I kissed you?"
"I have duties," she said and walked away.
Johnny watched her. "I love you," he said. The words left his mouth before he thought.
Natalie stopped and turned, smiling. "I know," she said. "I will come to you." A gust of wind brought a dust devil close and obscured her from Johnny's sight. As the dust moved away, she was gone.
****
Johnny laid awake, thinking about Natalie. Four days passed and she did not return to the fields. He worried that he had scared her off. The kiss came too soon and maybe she was as young as she first appeared.
A breeze blew through the open window, rather cool for late May. The full moon cast a swath of light at the end of his bed. Shadows danced with the passing of clouds.
He gazed at the hills. Moonlight bathed the horizon and land, creating a surreal scene of enhanced areas of gray and areas pitch black in shadow. He turned at the sound of movement behind him.
Natalie stood, smiling, adorned in turquoise, silver, and abalone jewelry, which ringed her neck, wrists, and ankles. Her dark eyes sparkled in the moonlight that acted as a spotlight, enhancing her body, highlighting her nudity in contrasts of light and dark. Her face showed no youthful innocence. The body, full of angles and bony protuberances less than two weeks ago, displayed the shape of a mature woman. Rounded hips and perfect breasts captured Johnny's attention. He took a deep breath and savored her beauty. For a moment, he wondered how she got inside his bedroom, but the thought vanished as she moved toward him and caressed his cheek.
He grabbed her hand and kissed it with tenderness. Natalie ran her other hand through his hair. She brought her lips to his and kissed him, alleviating Johnny of any thoughts but her presence. He pulled her down.
Johnny pulled back from a kiss. This woman could not be the teenager he met less than a month ago. Natalie was ageless beauty and truth. He longed for her and could not believe that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.
"I love you," he said.
Natalie nodded. "Your love is evident, Johnny. I've come to make sure that my love is also evident." She kissed him and caressed his chest. "It has been so long since I have felt this way."
Johnny wanted to tell her what he felt. He opened his mouth, but she placed her finger across his lips. She kissed him again and pulled him close, guiding him into her.
Hours later, he lay on his back, stroking her hair. Johnny watched her breathe and smelled her body, an intoxicating combination.
"I've chosen you, Johnny," she said. "Your music drew me and your soul captured me." Natalie kissed his chest and rose from the bed. "I must go for now, but I will return."
"Stay with me," Johnny said. "Please, don't go."
She kissed him. "You must sleep and I must prepare myself for this time with you. I will return, always."
Natalie opened the bedroom door. Johnny heard her footsteps as they went down the stairs. The front door opened and he knew she was gone. He sat up and glanced out of the window. She walked toward the hills, but stopped and turned.
"I love you," she said, her voice carried by the wind. Natalie disappeared into darkness as a cloud covered the moon.
Woman (Summer and Early Fall)
Johnny wiped his forehead of sweat, despite the air-conditioned truck cab. Natalie sat beside him as they stopped in front of his house. Manuel's truck occupied a part of the driveway. Johnny was glad he had remembered to go the bank. He reached across Natalie, brushing her bare leg, sending a chill through his body. Retrieving the pay envelope, he stared at her.
She wore cutoff jeans and a cotton blouse made on the reservation, a gift from Johnny. Since that perfect night, Natalie had stayed with him until late every evening. When he slept she left.
Johnny watched with fascination as she breathed. Her attention centered on Manuel's truck and the front door of the house. Natalie noticed his stare. He smiled, his mind not hiding his preferences for afternoon diversions. She raised an eyebrow.
"Later, lover," she said. "As for now, you have visitors."
"That's just Manuel and James," he said. "Every Friday at four,I pay them."
"There is more," Natalie said.
Johnny wanted to ask what she meant, but his front door opened and the two workers walked outside, laughing. He wondered why they had gone inside his house.
They got out of the truck and walked to the porch. Both men still grinned, though James lost his smile when he saw Natalie.
Johnny waved as the two workers walked down the steps to greet them. "Natalie, this is Manuel and James." She nodded. "Guys, this is Natalie Whiteshell, the woman you saw walking in the hills about a month ago."
"Whiteshell Woman," James whispered.
"What," Johnny asked?
Manuel cast a sharp glance toward James and spoke before Johnny could follow up on the question.
"This couldn't be the girl we saw, Johnny," Manuel said. "Miss Whiteshell is older, a woman for sure." Manuel hesitated, and then said to Natalie, "I'm sorry. I meant no offense."
"None taken," she said, smiling. "Johnny, I'm going inside to get out of the heat."
Johnny nodded. "I'll be there in a minute." He noticed the way James watched Natalie as she walked away. Is that fear in his eyes?
"Here's your money," Johnny said as the door closed. "What were you doing in the house? I'm not angry, just curious how you got inside." Johnny trusted the two men. He knew they were honorable, both brought up in the old ways.
Manuel laughed. "Your grandfather's here."
Johnny smiled. "Pappy's inside?"
"Yeah, we found him in town, coming out of a liquor store with three bottles of tequila," Manuel said. "We gave him a ride and he kept us entertained with all the old stories." He laughed. "He's a treasure, that old man."
"Yeah, he is," Johnny said. "I'll see you guys later." He walked inside and saw a gray head thrown back with a shot of tequila draining from a glass. Natalie looked up and smiled.
"Pappy, what are you doing here?"
Charles Nobles slapped the glass onto a coffee table and stood. "Johnny, my boy, come give your old granddad a hug."
He embraced the old man and received a bear hug he had not had from Pappy for years. When Pappy released him, he took a breath. "What's happened? They throw you out of the home?" Johnny faked a stern look. "How many of those widows did you play off one another?"
Pappy swatted the air and sat down. He poured another tequila and downed it before he answered. "Got bored with all those old folks," he said as he sucked a slice of lime. "Just wanted to get back out with the living." His eyes betrayed sadness. "I wanted to come home for a while."
"Why didn't you call me? I'd have come for you."
Pappy shrugged. "I can ride the bus." He glanced at Natalie, who sat across the room. "Besides, I wasn't sure if an old man would be wanted here." He grinned.
"Pappy, this is your house," Johnny said. "You're welcome here as long as you want to stay. You don't have to go back there. If you'll remember, I was against it."
"You were right." He drank more tequila. "Now, as to this young lady, here, she looks familiar."
"I'm sorry, Pappy. This is Natalie. Natalie, my grandfather."
Natalie rose and offered her hand. "I am honored to meet you, sir."
Pappy took her hand and grinned. "I think the honor is mine. Did you have a grandmother in the Navajo Nation a few decades ago?"
Natalie smiled and ignored the question, turning to Johnny. "Did you know your grandfather was a musician, Johnny? I asked him where you got your talent before we were formally introduced."
"No, I didn't know," Johnny said. "Pappy, what did you play?"
Pappy sighed. "That was a long time ago, but Natalie reminded me of someone." He stopped, eyes gazing at distant memories. "I played the flute, and not one of those new-fangled things. I played the traditional Navajo flute."
Natalie reached behind her as if pulling something out of her pocket. "Like this one?" She produced a wooden instrument, intricate carving along the sides.
Pappy's eyes grew wide. "Yes. Exactly."
Natalie placed the flute in his hand. He put down the empty shot glass and studied it. After a moment, Pappy offered the flute back to Natalie. "It's beautiful."
Natalie smiled. "Play, Charles."
Pappy scrunched his eyes together. Johnny heard echoes of a little girl's demanding voice.
"You're her," Pappy said, barely audible.
Natalie smiled. "But that cannot be, can it?"
"No, it can't." Pappy stared at Natalie for a moment longer then brought the flute to his mouth and blew.
Johnny knew the melody, an octave higher than he had been playing on piano and guitar, but it would enhance the song. He watched as Pappy went through the four sections of the music, eyes closed, enraptured by the notes. When the song ended, Johnny saw tears in Pappy's eyes. He wiped a few of his own and saw that Natalie cried as well.
They sat in silence. Johnny was confused. Pappy played the same song that came to him out of nowhere. He looked at Pappy, who stared at Natalie. Natalie stood up.
"I have to go," she said, walking to the door.
Johnny jumped up to follow. "You don't have to leave."
"Yes," she said. "You need to visit with your grandfather." She smiled at Johnny, stroking his crest-fallen face. "Don't worry. I'll be back tomorrow."
He watched her walk into the night until she disappeared into the shadows. Johnny sighed and shut the door. He sat beside Pappy on the couch. The old man stared at the flute as if it was a relic of the past and he needed to know its significance.
"I was a young man," Pappy said. "I used to play the flute sitting on a rock. I played that flute all the time. There were times when I was happiest on that rock watching the corn grow with my music. One spring day, a little girl appeared and commanded that I play. That was the song that came out."
Pappy coughed and kept coughing. Johnny noticed the yellow glint of his skin. His hands and arms appeared bloated. Pappy poured another shot and downed it. The coughing gradually ended.
"She came back every day to listen. It was June before I realized that she grew older much faster than she should. She was a woman before I knew it and still she returned." Pappy turned to Johnny.
"I had already met your grandmother, though, and we were married in July. The woman who had been a girl never returned." He drank more tequila. "That's who your young lady reminds me of, Johnny." Pappy put a hand on the side of Johnny's head. "Be careful, my son." He reached for the tequila.
"Pappy, why don't you go on to bed," Johnny said. "You've had a long day."
Pappy nodded and put the bottle back on the table. He stared at the flute. "Changing Woman," he said in a whisper. "Asdzaan Nadleehe."
****
Johnny convinced himself that as a child he heard Pappy play the song on the flute. The story of the young girl demanding a tune bothered him a little, but he rationalized that all children want to hear music and most can be quite demanding. Those issues did not bother him as much as Pappy's appearance and behavior over the last month.
"He's drinking too much," Johnny said. "I've never known him to be a drunk."
Natalie listened as the sun baked the ground around them. A hint of silver appeared around the edges of her hair, just a hint. "Have you asked him about it?"
Johnny nodded. "He says that he and tequila never did spend as much time together as either of them intended. Then, he laughed, which started a coughing spell. I asked him if he had seen a doctor. You know what he said?"
Natalie shook her head.
"He said that all the doctors he respected were dead." Johnny sighed and stared into the cornfield. "I'm going to hide the tequila and make sure he can't get any more."
"Johnny, how old is Pappy?" She raised an eyebrow. "If he wants to stay drunk, then what business is it of yours?" She put her arm around his shoulder and squeezed. "Taking away the tequila will not bring him back, Johnny. He's not the same man as when you were ten."
Johnny stood and walked a few paces. His anger burned within.
"I can't just let him drink himself to death," Johnny said.
Natalie stood. "The tequila will not kill him."
"It will if he doesn't stop. He drank almost two bottles yesterday." He balled his hands into fists. "It's getting worse, Natalie."
Natalie frowned. Johnny noticed a line or two around her eyes. She looked older when she was unhappy. She gazed into his eyes and then he saw her as always young.
"Johnny," she said, enunciating each of her words. "The tequila will not kill him. If you take away the alcohol, then he will feel the pain."
"What pain?" Johnny waited for an answer, but Natalie just stared. His eyes widened as he thought about her words.
"Oh my, God, he's told you something," he said. "He's dying, isn't he?" Natalie nodded. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because he had the right to privacy," she said. "You cannot help him to the other side."
Johnny sat back against the rock and slid to the ground, head in his hands. Emptiness opened within his chest. He wanted to cry, but the tears refused to fall. He looked up at Natalie.
"I may not be able to help him with his death," he said. "But I sure as hell can help while he lives."
Johnny walked into the house behind Natalie. "Pappy?" He received no answer. For an instant fear gripped him. He thought he was too late and that Pappy had already died.
The sound of the flute filtered into the living room. He walked through the house to the back door and found Pappy lightly blowing into the wooden instrument. Johnny saw the huge effort Pappy suffered when playing the flute. Pappy coughed for a minute, and then stopped, turning. He looked at Johnny and then Natalie.
"He knows," Natalie said. "I did not tell him. He figured it out on his own."
Pappy nodded and slapped Johnny's leg. Johnny sat beside him, laying a hand on the old man's shoulder. Pappy smiled and blew into the flute. Natalie opened the door and put the Gibson in Johnny's hands.
Pappy took his mouth away from the flute. "Asdzaan Nadleehe, will you be with me when I cross?"
"Yes, Charles," Natalie said.
Pappy nodded and returned to playing the song. Johnny strummed the Gibson in reply to the melody of the flute.
"I'm scared, Johnny," Pappy said between coughs. "If I go to sleep, I won't wake up."
Johnny fought back tears and grabbed Pappy's hand. "I'm scared, too, Pappy."
Pappy handed him the flute he had clutched. "The song is yours, Johnny. You'll be all right." He glanced past Johnny. "Won't he, Asdzaan Nadleehe?"
"Yes, Charles," Natalie said. She left the two men alone.
"I'm going to close my eyes for a little while," Pappy said. "Good night, Johnny." Pappy slept.
Johnny watched as the breathing became ragged and finally stopped. He stared as the color drained from Pappy's face and he was sure he was gone. The tears he fought deserted him. An incredible sadness overtook Johnny, a grief he could not bear, so he shunted it aside in his shock.
Natalie laid a hand on his shoulder. "I've called the coroner," she said. Johnny nodded. "I must go. He expects me."
Johnny turned. "Go where?"
"I promised to help your grandfather pass through."
"Pappy kept calling you Asdzaan Nadleehe," Johnny said. He did not look at Natalie as he squeezed Pappy's limp hand. "Who are you?"
"I am Changing Woman." Natalie left.
Johnny stared after her, then sat beside Pappy's body until the coroner came. He wanted to cry, but could not.
****
Johnny sat on the rock, watching as Manuel and James ran the combines in the fields. He had inspected the corn with Manuel before they started harvesting.
"You see how the leaves have browned and left the husks exposed?" Manuel grabbed an ear and pulled down one side of the hush. He pushed a fingernail into a kernel and juice spurted out. Manuel smiled and handed the corn to Johnny. "This is ready. We should be able to harvest this and get another crop planted at least a hundred days before the first frost."
Johnny nodded. "Thanks, Manuel. I couldn't have done this without you."
"We're well paid," Manuel said as he shrugged. He nodded at James and they started picking.
Johnny sat, thinking about Pappy and Natalie. He missed the old man. He brought the flute to his lips and blew. A flat note sounded. Johnny frowned. This could take some time to learn, he thought. He grabbed the Gibson and strummed the strings.
"Your heart is not in it."
Johnny turned. Natalie stood at the edge of the field.
"Where have you been?"
Natalie sat on the rock beside him. "I tried to stay away," she said. "I thought you might need time, to mourn for Pappy and to decide about me."
Dust flew around them as the tractor passed close to them. Johnny saw James staring at Natalie as he drove past. Johnny stared at the hills surrounding his land, the land left to him by Pappy. White puffs ambled through the sky. He looked at Natalie.
Lines deepened on her face. Her hair silvered at the edges, but the eyes remained ageless. This woman bore a resemblance to the maiden and little girl of spring and early summer, but she blossomed full grown in a little over a month.
"I don't know what to think," he said. His insides trembled when she smiled. "All I know is I love you, whoever you are. I am less when you're not here." He placed the Gibson back into the case. "I have trouble believing in gods and Holy Ones."
Natalie smiled. "You were not raised Dineh, Johnny," she said. "Right now, I am a woman in love with you. And that's all I am."
He took her by the hand and helped her off the rock. Manuel waved, grinning. Johnny could not hide his own grin as he returned the wave, leading Natalie to the truck. They drove back to the house.
James and Manuel finished harvesting the crop in two days. By Friday, they had planted most of the fields before they came for their pay.
Johnny heard the truck as it drove into the gravel drive. He walked onto the porch as the men got out. James looked past Johnny toward the screen door. Johnny glanced behind him and saw Natalie. They waited beside the truck, making no effort to come to the house. Johnny frowned as he went to meet them.
"Here's your pay," Johnny said. "You guys want a beer?"
"She is here," James said. "I would not impose."
Manuel shot a worried look at James. "Yeah, I guess so." He changed the subject. "Johnny, we planted all of the south fields and we'll finish the north early next week."
"That's great," Johnny said. "Our buyer is coming after the corn tomorrow, so next week, I'm giving both of you a major bonus for all the hard work. You've been more like partners than workers."
Manuel's mouth fell open. Even James lost his worried look and tore his eyes away from the screen door.
"You've earned the bonus," he said. "You sure you don't want that beer?"
They declined, but in a more cheerful way. The two men expressed their gratitude as they climbed back into the truck and drove away. Johnny smiled as he walked into the house.
"They appeared quite happy when they left," Natalie said.
"I'm giving them each a one-third share of the profits," Johnny said. "They've done all the work. The only reason I grew corn in the first place was that Pappy had for all these years. And I don't need the money. They do."
Natalie kissed him.
****
They went to the rock every day. Natalie gave Johnny lessons on playing Pappy's flute. After a couple of weeks, he had learned the song well enough to lay down a few tracks in the studio. He brought the recording to the fields and played it.
"That's it," Natalie said. "Now what?"
Johnny grinned and shook his head. "Now, nothing. The words for this song just haven't come. I know they're there, because I catch snippets in my head as I'm playing. They just fade away."
"Does the song have to have words?" She smiled.
Johnny thought she taunted him, but considered the question. "No, I don't guess it does. My agent told me to send what I had. Maybe I'll send it."
Natalie looked away. Johnny studied the side of her face. One strand of hair had turned white. A few more lines appeared around her eyes, but she was a beauty. Johnny ignored the signs of age, ignoring also the questions forming in his mind.
"Do you still miss the audience, Johnny?" Natalie did not look his way. "Do you miss the women?"
"There is no woman, but you," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder.
She shrugged the hand off. "Answer the first question!" she said, as she stared into his eyes. Her demand went deeper than words.
"Yes, I miss the audience," Johnny said. He dropped his chin to his chest. "I miss performing."
"Then send the song to Peter," Natalie said. "I could not stand in your way." She stood and walked into the corn, which rose to her ankles.
Johnny started to go after her, but knew she preferred to be alone. He watched until she faded into the hills.
He took the disc to the post office after he left the fields. Johnny wondered if Natalie knew he had the envelope ready to send. Does she worry about losing me?
He sat in bed waiting for her, but went to sleep around midnight. His eyes popped open staring at the clock. A flute played in the distance, beckoning Johnny to follow the sound. He tried to fight the urge, but he grabbed pants, shirt, and shoes. He felt drawn toward the corn.
He stopped the truck, and in the lights, he saw Natalie dressed in the traditional blue cotton dress. A man stood next to her, much taller and dressed in anything but traditional Navajo clothing. A white silk shirt with billowing sleeves added a grace to his motions and toned down the hump on his back. Black pants and tennis shoes completed the fashion statement. Johnny got out of the truck, focusing on Natalie and the man.
"Oops, cousin," the man said. "I didn't know you were here. Now, I know why I came to this place."
"Do realize what you're doing?" Natalie sounded angry.
The man laughed. "Oh yes, I think I do." He saw Johnny. "He's not Dineh, Naddie. I am both surprised and pleased. You have always been too traditional. That's why you're tied here you know. Corn Woman and I don't have that problem."
Natalie stomped her foot. Johnny felt a rumble through the Earth. "Don't change the subject, Kokopelli," she said. "I'm too old for children."
"No, you're not," the man said. He backed into the corn and was hidden by the tall stalks.
"Tall stalks?" Johnny stopped and stared. The corn that was at Natalie's ankles this morning was now seven feet tall, at least. "What the hell is going on here?"
Natalie stared into the stalks. "You'll pay for this." Laughter answered her. She shook her head and looked up at Johnny. "We have no choice, now."
"Who was that? What did he do to my corn?"
Natalie raised a hand for silence. Johnny looked at her and forgot about the corn or the man who had been arguing with her. Her hair sparkled in the moonlight. The dress swirled in the breeze, providing glimpses of her thighs.
"That was a cousin of mine, the meddler," Natalie said. She grabbed an ear of corn and pulled back the husk. She pierced a kernel and juice spurted. "As for your corn, Kokopelli makes things reproduce. I think you better pick this crop Monday." She grinned. "I really want to hear your explanation to Manuel and James."
Johnny heard the words, but they did not register. "What?"
Natalie laughed. "Nothing. I have the same urge you do, damn that cousin of mine. Do you have that blanket in the truck?"
"Blanket?" Johnny's eyes widened. "Oh, yeah."
****
Natalie stayed in bed all day Saturday, too sick to move. Retching woke Johnny early that morning.
"Natalie, are you all right?"
Another retch exploded. "I'm going to kill Kokopelli, when I catch him," she yelled between bouts of throwing up. "Go back to bed, Johnny," she said. "This will pass."
She felt better later that afternoon. Johnny went to the drugstore and bought something to help with nausea. Natalie looked at the bottle and her face turned pale.
"You don't expect me to put that in my body," she said.
Johnny looked confused. "Well, yeah," he said. "It's supposed to help."
"You want to help me?" Natalie waited for Johnny to nod. "Good, then go to the rock, play the guitar and flute." Before he would leave, she assured him that she was not angry, but she needed to be alone for a while. Johnny left.
Natalie stood on the front porch when he returned. Her face glowed and her body held a little more weight than usual. He kissed her. "How are you?"
"I'm better," she said. He asked if she had eaten. She shook her head. "No, I don't need food."
"Okay, I was just asking," he said.
She laughed. "I'm sorry. I have to go for now, but I'll be back." Natalie sighed. "I have to be back by Monday."
"You've been sick," he said. "Can't it wait for a few days?"
"No, I must go."
Johnny knew better than to argue.
James and Manuel arrived early on Monday morning, which surprised Johnny since he had not called. "Good morning," Johnny said. "I was going to call you two."
The two men stopped at the bottom step of the porch. "Hi, Johnny," Manuel said. "We got a message that you wanted to see us. Natalie told my wife yesterday at a Blessingway."
Johnny walked down the steps and leaned against his truck. "She saw Natalie?"
"Yes," Manuel said.
"We would have come in any case," James said. "I saw your corn yesterday."
"Damnedest thing I ever saw," Johnny said. He told them what had happened. "Natalie said her cousin did that."
James looked away before he spoke. "What was this cousin's name?"
Johnny scratched his head. "Koko-something."
"Kokopelli," James said.
Manuel looked pained. "James, don't start that."
"What better proof?" James almost screamed the question. "Corn fields throughout Navajo land grew overnight. Nothing like this has happened in generations. She called Kokopelli a cousin."
"Other farms experienced the same thing," Johnny said. "Must be a freak occurrence. I wonder if that corn is safe to eat."
James looked Johnny in the eyes. "It is safe, and probably the best corn anyone will ever taste. Kokopelli drives the harvest. Where he appears, the corn matures and babies are born."
"I have a hard time believing that an old god has returned," Manuel said. "It just doesn't happen."
James looked into the distance before replying. "You spent too many years away, Manuel. You think like a bilagaana. Don't you remember the Holy People visited that old witch in the mountains a few years ago?" He turned to Johnny. "Your corn field is the only land off the Navajo Nation that received Kokopelli's visit. That's because of Changing Woman."
Johnny started to speak, but stopped. Natalie walked up the driveway to the house. Her face sparkled in the morning sun, but Johnny noticed roundness to her abdomen that had not been there when she left.
"Natalie, are you all right? What's happened?"
She frowned at the questions. "I am in a perfectly natural state, Johnny." She glanced at her stomach. "What does it look like has happened?"
Her body remained thin everywhere except her stomach. Johnny thought about the nausea she experienced Saturday morning. But that's not possible, he thought.
Natalie nodded at Manuel and James. "They know, Johnny," she said. "Don't you, James?"
"Kokopelli," James said, not meeting her eyes. "And you are Asdzaan Nadleehe, Changing Woman."
Natalie smiled. "Were you with your wives Friday night when Kokopelli visited?" Both men nodded. Manuel appeared uncomfortable, but James displayed respect. She smiled. "Congratulations, you will both be fathers again."
Natalie walked to Johnny and kissed him on the cheek. He felt the firmness of her belly. "You will have to wait longer than Johnny and I, but our children will grow together."
"You're pregnant," Johnny said. "How can you be pregnant?"
Natalie laughed. "I think you're old enough to understand how I became pregnant."
"But I've only known you a couple of months," Johnny said. He thought for a moment. "It's not mine. It can't be. And how did you hide it for so long?"
Natalie caressed his face but Johnny did not pull away. He didn't care who fathered the child. He loved Natalie.
"I know you don't understand, my love. Believe me when I say that I carry your son within my womb. He was conceived Friday night." Natalie held Johnny's stare for a moment, and then turned to James.
"Would you bring your wives to help? Johnny will be useless."
James and Manuel nodded and left.
"I need to rest, Johnny," she said. "Help me up the steps."
Johnny guided her to the bedroom. Questions demanded asking, but he fought the urge. She removed her clothes and lay in the bed. For the first time since he'd known her, Johnny saw that Natalie slept. He kissed her cheek and waited on the porch.
****
Johnny watched his two-week old son sleeping in the crib. He heard the droning of the news channels in the living room. Natalie watched them every night, now that the boy was born. Johnny watched the boy breathe.
Natalie insisted he be named Charles, after Pappy. Johnny grinned as he thought of Pappy. He would have loved to have a great-grandchild. He would have burst out of his shirt with pride to have a namesake. Natalie said Pappy knew. Johnny could not doubt her. He frowned as he remembered.
"So, I am in love with a goddess," Johnny had said after the
birth. "Pappy called you Asdzaan Nadleehe. James concurred. You
Natalie's face showed the strain of the birth and Johnny's question. Young Charles suckled at his mother's breast. Her milk dried up before the next feeding, sending Johnny racing to the nearest grocery story. Finally, Natalie sighed and answered.
"Are you in love with a goddess? Yeah, I guess I qualify. I am Changing Woman, with an emphasis on the 'Woman' part when it comes to you."
Charles looked around the room as he quit feeding. His dark eyes found Johnny and twinkled. The infant smiled and laughed. Maybe it was gas. Johnny knew it was mirth.
Johnny shook his head. "I just can't grasp the concept. I did not grow up in Navajo Nation, so I am not privy to the inner workings of traditional beliefs. Never been a devout anything." He rubbed Charles's stomach and heard the baby coo. "What does a goddess see in an average man?"
"My love, you are far from average," she said. "I was drawn by your music." She smile and put her hand on his. "I stayed because of you."
Johnny rubbed his face with his hands, breaking contact with her. "I don't know what to believe. It's obvious the Navajo believe you, but this is so far outside my experience."
"Johnny, how old was I when we first met?"
He studied Natalie's face. Her eyes, temples, and forehead show the obvious signs of aging. Her hair faded as the summer wound through June and started July. Her breasts did not stand as firm as they had a month earlier. But her smile and voice belied the other features.
"I thought you were about seventeen," he said. "I was wrong. You had to be older."
"I was about ten when I first spoke to you in March," Natalie said.
Johnny heard the little girl demand that he play. He remembered her eyes, the same eyes that stared at him now. Johnny wanted to reject the thought, but he could not.
"So, I am in love with a goddess," he said.
Natalie shrugged, embarrassed. "Yeah, you are."
The phone rang, startling Johnny back to the present. He grabbed the receiver before it woke the baby. "Yeah?"
"Johnny? It's Peter."
Charles yawned and let out a small whimper, but went back to sleep. Johnny remembered the phone.
"Peter?" he asked. "Peter who?"
For a moment, silence greeted his question. "Your agent, Johnny. Peter Wilson? Remember me?"
It took a moment, but the words registered. "Peter, I'm sorry," Johnny said. "I was watching my son, hoping the phone didn't wake him."
"When did you have a son? What the hell's going on out there in Texas, Johnny?"
"I'm in Arizona, Peter. New Mexico separates me from Texas."
"Right, Arizona," Peter said. "Look, I got the CD you sent. There's some great stuff on there, Johnny. Well, at least good enough to get you a gig."
"A gig?" Johnny focused on the phone call. "What type of gig?"
"Duane McAllister heard the CD and wants you to open for him when he tours this fall," Peter said. "Just you and your guitar for a forty-five-minute set. He wants a soft opening before his band comes out. Then you sit in with his band for a number of tunes. The original act broke a leg, and you'll replace him until winter. It's a start back down the road, Johnny, my boy."
"Duane McAllister plays arenas," Johnny said. "An acoustic opening will get lost in that venue."
"That's the best part, Johnny," Peter said, punctuated with a laugh. "Duane's getting back to his roots. The tour is small clubs and theaters, which is a perfect comeback for you."
Johnny saw Charles move. "I have a son, Peter. I've got to take care of him."
"Bring him along. You can hire a nanny. Or better yet, bring the mother, if you haven't dumped her."
He ignored the last statement. Two years ago, Peter would have been right. Johnny changed the subject.
"When do I need to be there?"
"This Friday, I need you in LA, baby," Peter said. "If this works out I can get you studio time and maybe a new contract."
"I'll be there." Johnny hung up and smiled at Charles. "We're going to Los Angeles." The baby blew spittle out of his mouth and closed his eyes. Johnny went into the living room.
"Natalie, guess what?"
She did not turn, but she clicked off the television. "I've avoided that over the years, watching the news, finding out anything about the outside world. How can people look in their mirrors? They kill each other for no reason." She shrugged. "But then the ground has always been fertilized with blood."
Johnny sat beside her on the couch. His excitement about the job waned with her assessment. She smiled, but he saw the sadness behind her eyes. She knows about the gig, he thought.
"You're leaving," she said. Natalie spoke with no anger, just a simple declarative.
"That was Peter on the phone. He's got me a gig. We leave for Los Angeles tomorrow."
Natalie nodded. "You leave tomorrow. I cannot go with you. I don't exist outside of this sacred land."
Johnny's heart dropped. When he accepted the gig, he had not thought of her and the boy. "Natalie, please come with me."
She placed a hand on Johnny's face. "I can't, Johnny. No one outside Navajo land believes in me. I don't exist out there. I don't belong out there. I belong here. Kokopelli was right when he said I was tied to this land, to Dineh. But you must go and you must take Charles with you, because it won't be long before I will not be able to care for him."
He sat in silence for a moment. "I'm calling Peter. I can't take the gig. I don't want to be without you."
Natalie smiled. "Don't be obtuse. You are going because if you don't go, if you don't communicate with that audience, then you'll always wonder. After a while, you'll resent me and I will not have that. You must go, so you will know." She pushed her way into his arms. "Johnny, I'd rather lose you for a little while, rather than risk losing you forever."
Crone (Late Fall)
December snow fell on the streets. He walked into the hotel after returning from the show, tired and unhappy. The concerts had gone well, but a feeling of something missing increased with each day he stayed away.
Natalie waited at home. According to Manuel, she lived there. James and his wife moved in to take care of her. Her voice sounded weaker and more cracked every time he talked with her. His heart broke with each phone call. Johnny sighed in exhaustion.
The nanny he hired kept Charles in her room, for which he was grateful. Johnny needed the sleep. The tour had finished in Columbus and they had been on the road for weeks without a break. His cell phone rang as he got onto the elevator. He recognized the number and sighed.
"Hi, Peter."
"Johnny, you've done a great job, I hear," Peter said. "Duane wants you to stay with the tour, I think."
Johnny let out a long breath. He was tired and wanted to be home. His thoughts were constantly on Natalie. Even the audiences could not motivate his performance. He had come on the tour to rediscover his talent. Johnny found that what he wanted did not exist in this world.
"Johnny, are you still there? This is the opportunity you've been wanting."
"I'm going home to Arizona," Johnny said, vocalizing his feelings for the first time. "I'm going home to Natalie."
"What?" Peter's anger burst through the phone. "After I worked so hard to get you this chance? You don't mean that."
"I do mean it, Peter," he said. "I'm going back into retirement as a performer. Duane has said he would be interested in hearing any songs I write."
Peter kept silent for a moment. "Look, take off a couple of weeks, and then rejoin the tour after the New Year."
"Peter, I was signed to fill in until December. I've kept my part of the contract. I find that I don't crave the performance as much as I thought I did. I don't want to come back and I do not have to come back." He hung up the phone and ignored Peter's return calls.
Johnny stopped at his hotel room door and turned around. He went to the nanny's room and picked up Charles. He needed his son more than he needed sleep.
Some things are just more important, he thought.
****
The sky threatened snow for the official start of winter. Clouds rolled in from the southwest, and the wind ushered cold air into the valley. Manuel had picked him up from the airport and they drove to his house without conversation. Manuel did not know what to say. Johnny had nothing to say. He thought about Natalie.
James told him that she looked frail, but he would say nothing else. Johnny understood; James was a traditionalist. Natalie was more than a woman to him; she was a holy relic. The hills and mesas paraded by the window, and after a long while, Manuel turned the old car into Johnny's driveway. Natalie sat in a rocking chair on the front porch.
"She's been sitting out there waiting for you for days," Manuel said. Johnny nodded. "I'll get your things. You get the baby."
"Thanks, Manuel," Johnny said. "I need to thank James and his wife, too."
"You already have, Johnny," Manuel said as he got out of the car.
Johnny gathered Charles into his arms and made sure that the coat was buttoned as far as it would button. He pulled the hat down over the child's head.
Natalie sat in the rocking chair wrapped in a shawl. A blanket covered her legs. Her hair blew with the north wind, white strands flying around her face. Wrinkles massed around her eyes and mouth, but both hinted at the young girl buried within age. Her face was gaunt and her fingers protruded from her hands like bony spikes. Johnny smiled.
"Don't you think you should get inside?"
"Johnny, I'm so glad you made it home," she said. She pushed the shawl and blanket from her, letting them fall to the wooden floor. She struggled, but managed to stand on her own. "Bring Charles and let me see him."
Johnny complied. Charles giggled and laughed at Natalie. The child recognized his mother, despite her appearance. Natalie wiped away a tear.
"Take him inside and warm him," she said. "But come back because time is short. The old sun is setting and I must meet him at the horizon."
Johnny said hello to James and his wife, placing Charles in their care. When he returned to the porch, Natalie stood, bent and cragged, staring toward the west.
"I love you, Johnny." She turned and transformed into the young maiden he met seven months earlier. "I do not wish to leave."
"Then don't," Johnny said. "Stay with me through the winter."
She walked into his arms, kissing him with all of her attention. She pulled back, smiling. "You still don't understand, do you?" Natalie kissed his cheek and walked to the edge of the porch. When she turned, the old woman had returned.
"This is the way it must be," she said. "I must go now." She took a step toward the steps. "Help me down, please."
Johnny ran to her and let her put her weight, her insubstantial weight, on him. They got to the ground and she smiled.
Johnny put his arms around Natalie. "I'm going to miss you."
"I'm going to miss you and Charles," she said. "Can you stand the pain?"
"Can you, Natalie?" Johnny squeezed, but not tightly. He didn't want to crush the frail body in his arms. "I can stand it if you can."
She pushed away. Her eyes glowed with wisdom and years, but they were the same eyes he saw in a small girl. "It's time."
She turned and walked away. Johnny watched as she became smaller with distance. Her hobble made the walk slow and almost unbearable. Natalie stopped at the top of a hill and raised her arms toward the sun setting behind gray clouds. She collapsed.
Fear flooded through Johnny as he saw her fall. He took a few steps toward his truck, but remembered that this was her way, not his. He stared toward the mound of clothing and flesh. As the last rays of diffuse light escaped behind the western hill, he thought he saw something crawl over the edge.
He watched the horizon for hours after darkness covered the hills. The words flowed into his brain. When he could not ignore them, Johnny walked inside and added them to the song.
Child (Early Spring)
Johnny worked on the row of small stalks near the rock. Sweat poured off his face, sucked up by the ground as it dripped off his nose. This year he decided he would work the fields his grandfather gave him. He heard muffled laughter and looked up to see Manuel and James grinning.
"Are you going to hoe that row for another hour?" Manuel asked. "I think everything's okay in that particular spot by now."
Johnny leaned against the hoe and studied the ground. Manuel was right. "I've been thinking how to tell you two something." He walked over to the rock and leaned. "Are you guys taking on extra work this year?"
Manuel shook his head. "With you sharing last year's profits, we don't have to," he said. Johnny saw worry and doubt creep into Manuel's eyes. "Should we?"
"No, no, that's good," Johnny said. "So did both of you put some money back for the growing season this year?" He saw their tentative nods. "Good because I'm not going to pay you a salary for working the farm."
"Pardon me?" James looked away.
"Hear me out," Johnny said. He glanced over the fields and at the hills surrounding them. She's here, he thought. She's always here.
"My grandfather gave this land to me and I will leave it to my son one day, but the farm is another issue. That's a business and I need good partners. If you agree, I'm going to formalize what we did last year. Of course that means that you take one-third of the risk, also."
Johnny saw two mouths open in shock.
"Well?" James and Manuel agreed, still stunned. "Oh and if anything comes up, let me know. I can still advance money. We have an operating loan this year as well as crop insurance."
"Thank you, Johnny," Manuel said. He opened his mouth, but words failed him. James nodded.
"One more thing," Johnny said. "I want both of you to take some time off when those two babies come in April."
"Maybe a day or two," James said. "But my wife would kill me if we left the farm in your hands for too long."
They laughed. James cocked his head at a sound in the fields. Something moved. Johnny heard it. Johnny's partners finished their business with agreeing to meet later that week. Neither wanted a signed contract, they took Johnny's word. Johnny told them that articles of incorporation would satisfy the legalities. James grabbed Manuel's arm when the sound came again, much closer than the first. The two men left.
Johnny threw the hoe in the back of the truck and grabbed the Gibson. Sitting on the rock, he played the song Natalie gave him last year, singing the new words.
A little girl came to the edge of the field as he finished the song. "That's beautiful."
"It's also a hit," Johnny said, not looking at her. "Duane McAl lister wanted to record it and I let him."
Johnny turned to her and smiled. She wore a blue dress and shirt. Her skin reflected the sunlight. She was a beautiful little girl. For a moment, an image of the maiden, woman, and the old woman superimposed on the little girl, but the vision vanished as quickly as it came.
"Hello, Natalie," he said. "I've been waiting. You need to go see your son. He's at the house with his nanny."
The little girl giggled, but nodded. The wise eyes stared as she smiled. "Play, Johnny. Play the song again."
****
Terry Bramlett is the author of Formidable Enemy.