personal."
"Maybe
you have a little Lakota in you." Devon motioned for her to take a seat
beside Trace. "The music speaks to your soul and heals, caresses, and
sometimes can even make you laugh."
Trace
scooted over, making room for her. She smiled at him, and breathed a sigh of
relief when he mustered a polite half grin back. He'd apologized last night for
making her job harder than it should be. Nothing more was mentioned about the
kiss they shared, but that was probably for the best. If he could put it out of
his mind and go on working together, so could she.
"You've
explained how you all left the reservation, but do you have family still living
there or have they left too?" Joan leaned back.
No
one answered, but their gazes darted across the room at one another. Joan
wished she could take back her question.
"Sorry.
That was rude of me." She laid her hand on her cheek. "As you know, I
often don't think before I open my mouth."
Brody
cleared his throat, taking the attention off her. "I have a whole passel
of relatives who have always lived on the reservation, two sisters, aunts, a
couple of uncles and at last count, two nephews, and three nieces."
"I
no longer have relatives on the rez." Trace threw the chair cushion at
Devon. "Your turn."
Devon
feigned throwing the pillow back and then picked at a loose strand of thread at
the corner. "My Uciwayeki, grandmother, still resides on Lakota land."
The
way Devon spoke and the way his smile fell, she could tell something painful
came along with the mention of his grandma.
"Okay.
One more song and I have to get out of here." Brody clapped his hands.
"Which one should we play for Joan?"
"Let's
play her, wee -shday chay wee –yahn ." Devon stepped back behind the drums.
"Dev…" Trace shook his head. "Pick a different
one."
"No. She'll like it." Devon laughed. "I'll start us
out."
Devon's
hands came down and softly tapped the top of the drum. He wiggled his brows and
grinned. Joan clasped her hands in front of her, delighted at the playful show.
She glanced at Trace, the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled, and seeing
him relaxed with his friends pleased her.
He
deserved to forget about his leg and have fun for a change.
Devon
sang low in his native language. She listened carefully, not understanding a
word but impressed with the fluid sounds. She had no idea the men could talk in
the language of their people.
Devon's
voice rose and fell, and his facial expressions became more animated as he
sang. From what she could gather, he was singing about a silly person or a
happy one.
When
Trace's flute began, she turned to him. The tune, haunting and low, set the
mood. She leaned forward, straining to understand. Before she could wonder what
would cause such sadness, Trace performed a solo on the flute. The more Devon
sang, the louder Trace played, until Joan laughed for a no reason but because
the music called for it.
Experiencing
the foreign song, and feeling the emotions behind the sound, was something new
to her. Without comprehending the language, she let her interpretation to the
music dictate her enjoyment. Devon's added comic relief also helped.
The
song ended, and all the men grinned. Joan stayed where she was, leaning against
Trace's shoulder. She envied the close friendships in the room. Their
relationships went beyond gathering together for dinner once a week. They were
family, and a functioning one at that.
"I
had no idea you could converse in your native tongue." Joan gazed around
the room. "Do you all speak Lakota? What did the song mean?"
"Yeah,
we've made it a point to keep our heritage alive when we're together. Times
have changed, and most Lakota kids being raised today don't even know a few
simple phrases." Devon pointed at Trace. "I taught Trace, and together
we finally have Brody up to talking like he was born knowing the
language."
"Who's
going to tell me what the song meant?" She turned to Trace. "I
thought the part you played started out
"Maybe
you have a little Lakota in you." Devon motioned for her to take a seat
beside Trace. "The music speaks to your soul and heals, caresses, and
sometimes can even make you laugh."
Trace
scooted over, making room for her. She smiled at him, and breathed a sigh of
relief when he mustered a polite half grin back. He'd apologized last night for
making her job harder than it should be. Nothing more was mentioned about the
kiss they shared, but that was probably for the best. If he could put it out of
his mind and go on working together, so could she.
"You've
explained how you all left the reservation, but do you have family still living
there or have they left too?" Joan leaned back.
No
one answered, but their gazes darted across the room at one another. Joan
wished she could take back her question.
"Sorry.
That was rude of me." She laid her hand on her cheek. "As you know, I
often don't think before I open my mouth."
Brody
cleared his throat, taking the attention off her. "I have a whole passel
of relatives who have always lived on the reservation, two sisters, aunts, a
couple of uncles and at last count, two nephews, and three nieces."
"I
no longer have relatives on the rez." Trace threw the chair cushion at
Devon. "Your turn."
Devon
feigned throwing the pillow back and then picked at a loose strand of thread at
the corner. "My Uciwayeki, grandmother, still resides on Lakota land."
The
way Devon spoke and the way his smile fell, she could tell something painful
came along with the mention of his grandma.
"Okay.
One more song and I have to get out of here." Brody clapped his hands.
"Which one should we play for Joan?"
"Let's
play her, wee -shday chay wee –yahn ." Devon stepped back behind the drums.
"Dev…" Trace shook his head. "Pick a different
one."
"No. She'll like it." Devon laughed. "I'll start us
out."
Devon's
hands came down and softly tapped the top of the drum. He wiggled his brows and
grinned. Joan clasped her hands in front of her, delighted at the playful show.
She glanced at Trace, the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled, and seeing
him relaxed with his friends pleased her.
He
deserved to forget about his leg and have fun for a change.
Devon
sang low in his native language. She listened carefully, not understanding a
word but impressed with the fluid sounds. She had no idea the men could talk in
the language of their people.
Devon's
voice rose and fell, and his facial expressions became more animated as he
sang. From what she could gather, he was singing about a silly person or a
happy one.
When
Trace's flute began, she turned to him. The tune, haunting and low, set the
mood. She leaned forward, straining to understand. Before she could wonder what
would cause such sadness, Trace performed a solo on the flute. The more Devon
sang, the louder Trace played, until Joan laughed for a no reason but because
the music called for it.
Experiencing
the foreign song, and feeling the emotions behind the sound, was something new
to her. Without comprehending the language, she let her interpretation to the
music dictate her enjoyment. Devon's added comic relief also helped.
The
song ended, and all the men grinned. Joan stayed where she was, leaning against
Trace's shoulder. She envied the close friendships in the room. Their
relationships went beyond gathering together for dinner once a week. They were
family, and a functioning one at that.
"I
had no idea you could converse in your native tongue." Joan gazed around
the room. "Do you all speak Lakota? What did the song mean?"
"Yeah,
we've made it a point to keep our heritage alive when we're together. Times
have changed, and most Lakota kids being raised today don't even know a few
simple phrases." Devon pointed at Trace. "I taught Trace, and together
we finally have Brody up to talking like he was born knowing the
language."
"Who's
going to tell me what the song meant?" She turned to Trace. "I
thought the part you played started out
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