she was an ignorant white woman lacking in any spiritual quality that might appeal to a kachina.
“What is it you and Nora were talking about?” Abigail didn’t seem to mind prying into Trust business.
Sylvia responded as if it were a simple request. “I need her to cut me a check.”
I can hear you , Nora wanted to say.
“Good luck with that,” Abigail said and they both laughed. They’d only known each other for a few minutes and already worked in tandem to torque off Nora. “She can be so tight-fisted and serious.”
If by tight-fisted you mean set up a generous budget that doesn’t include world cruises every six months, then yes, I’m a tightwad.
Sylvia seemed quite taken with Abigail. “I’m glad to know it’s not just me.”
“Oh heavens, no. She’s been like this since she was a toddler. When she was six she begged me to get her a cash register. Not a toy, mind you. She settled for an adding machine. She spent days writing figures in columns and adding them up. It was cute then.”
Nora forced herself to stare at the side of the house where she’d imagined the kachina. Maybe a staffer was taking a smoke break and wore a blue shirt. Of course there was no kachina. Kachinas didn’t exist.
“At least she’s had lots of practice,” Sylvia said. More of their instant - bestie twittering.
“We should have lunch soon,” Abigail said.
Sylvia headed back to the house. “It’s been delightful meeting you.”
Nora faced her mother with a stern expression, folding her arms.
Abigail raised her eyebrows. “What? I just stopped by to get the key to your apartment. I’ll go there and wait for you. I know you couldn’t possibly take time from your first day to spend with your mother.”
Nora dug in her jeans for her keys and started to pull off the apartment key. “How long are you staying?”
Abigail shrugged. “That depends, dear.”
A hard fist formed in Nora’s chest. She half-considered refusing to give her key to Abigail and insisting she turn the car around and head home.
She saw it again. The blue. It appeared, then disappeared. Damn it.
Abigail plucked the key from Nora’s limp hand. “You don’t look well, Nora. You need to take better care of yourself.”
Nora watched as Abigail strode across the brown grass. Just as Abigail disappeared along the path to the parking lot, the kachina stepped around the side of the house, heading toward Nora.
Nope. I don’t see you. You don’t exist.
Nora fought the wave of panic cresting behind her eyes. She must hang on to reality. Besides, if she blinked the kachina would disappear.
So blink.
Damn! When she opened her eyes the vision remained. But the kachina, with his plug mouth and feathers, clutching the hatchet and wearing a bright blue sash, wasn’t advancing on her. Instead, a slightly built Native American closed the last few feet to stand in front of her.
He wore a plaid shirt and jean jacket. His jet black hair combed neatly and cut short, he could be a regular guy in a regular yard.
“Hi, Nora.”
Part of her wanted to throw her arms around his neck and hug him as an old friend. Part of her wanted to turn tail and run. She pushed back the silly fear. “Benny!”
His serious face broke into a slight grin. For him, that was like bursting into song. “You are well.”
She hugged him after all . He was shorter than Nora and small-framed, but his answering hug felt strong.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
He stepped back and tilted his head to scrutinize the huge farm house. For as long as he studied it, he might have been memorizing the architecture.
Nora waited out his sloth pace. Impatience jangled her nerves.
It was Benny’s faith and loyalty to his friends that had saved Nora’s life in Flagstaff. She’d been forced to his home on the Hopi rez and he’d given her refuge and wisdom — both at the speed of melting snow.
“Do you like it here?” h e asked by way of response.
Good question. She
“What is it you and Nora were talking about?” Abigail didn’t seem to mind prying into Trust business.
Sylvia responded as if it were a simple request. “I need her to cut me a check.”
I can hear you , Nora wanted to say.
“Good luck with that,” Abigail said and they both laughed. They’d only known each other for a few minutes and already worked in tandem to torque off Nora. “She can be so tight-fisted and serious.”
If by tight-fisted you mean set up a generous budget that doesn’t include world cruises every six months, then yes, I’m a tightwad.
Sylvia seemed quite taken with Abigail. “I’m glad to know it’s not just me.”
“Oh heavens, no. She’s been like this since she was a toddler. When she was six she begged me to get her a cash register. Not a toy, mind you. She settled for an adding machine. She spent days writing figures in columns and adding them up. It was cute then.”
Nora forced herself to stare at the side of the house where she’d imagined the kachina. Maybe a staffer was taking a smoke break and wore a blue shirt. Of course there was no kachina. Kachinas didn’t exist.
“At least she’s had lots of practice,” Sylvia said. More of their instant - bestie twittering.
“We should have lunch soon,” Abigail said.
Sylvia headed back to the house. “It’s been delightful meeting you.”
Nora faced her mother with a stern expression, folding her arms.
Abigail raised her eyebrows. “What? I just stopped by to get the key to your apartment. I’ll go there and wait for you. I know you couldn’t possibly take time from your first day to spend with your mother.”
Nora dug in her jeans for her keys and started to pull off the apartment key. “How long are you staying?”
Abigail shrugged. “That depends, dear.”
A hard fist formed in Nora’s chest. She half-considered refusing to give her key to Abigail and insisting she turn the car around and head home.
She saw it again. The blue. It appeared, then disappeared. Damn it.
Abigail plucked the key from Nora’s limp hand. “You don’t look well, Nora. You need to take better care of yourself.”
Nora watched as Abigail strode across the brown grass. Just as Abigail disappeared along the path to the parking lot, the kachina stepped around the side of the house, heading toward Nora.
Nope. I don’t see you. You don’t exist.
Nora fought the wave of panic cresting behind her eyes. She must hang on to reality. Besides, if she blinked the kachina would disappear.
So blink.
Damn! When she opened her eyes the vision remained. But the kachina, with his plug mouth and feathers, clutching the hatchet and wearing a bright blue sash, wasn’t advancing on her. Instead, a slightly built Native American closed the last few feet to stand in front of her.
He wore a plaid shirt and jean jacket. His jet black hair combed neatly and cut short, he could be a regular guy in a regular yard.
“Hi, Nora.”
Part of her wanted to throw her arms around his neck and hug him as an old friend. Part of her wanted to turn tail and run. She pushed back the silly fear. “Benny!”
His serious face broke into a slight grin. For him, that was like bursting into song. “You are well.”
She hugged him after all . He was shorter than Nora and small-framed, but his answering hug felt strong.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
He stepped back and tilted his head to scrutinize the huge farm house. For as long as he studied it, he might have been memorizing the architecture.
Nora waited out his sloth pace. Impatience jangled her nerves.
It was Benny’s faith and loyalty to his friends that had saved Nora’s life in Flagstaff. She’d been forced to his home on the Hopi rez and he’d given her refuge and wisdom — both at the speed of melting snow.
“Do you like it here?” h e asked by way of response.
Good question. She
Similar Books
