Connor's idea of taking us to Kanatahseton for the summer was one I supported, but couldn't make myself get excited about. I kept my misgivings to myself for his sake. I knew he wanted his daughter to be a part of his heritage. That was a sentiment I could stand behind. It was only for personal reasons that I was loath to return to the village. I didn't feel accepted there. None of the inhabitants expressed their distrust of me verbally, but their stares spoke louder than words ever could. I was an outsider, different, strange. Being the wife of one of their own earned me no privileges. I was not allowed to participate in any of the religious customs or rituals that were held. I could watch, but not be included. I tried to be understanding, but it was insulting to be cast out simply because my skin was a different color. The natives knowing this sort of oppression made it even harder for me to accept.

Connor stayed by my side the entire time, telling me what he could of his culture. I tried to show interest. For him and for Abby. But it was feigned. He knew that as much as I did. I think it offended him. But he remained quiet.

My limited Kanien'keha vocabulary didn't help the situation any. Connor had taught me a few words, but the rules were very difficult to understand. I just couldn't comprehend how phrases could be grouped together to make a single word. Mohawk was completely different than any other language I had ever tried to learn. I stayed quiet most of the time, afraid my ignorance would be mistaken for disrespect. I said the few greetings, thanks and farewells I knew as genuinely as I could, but they were accepted with distension by Oia:ner. Being the only blood family that Connor had left made the clan mother's disapproval of me all the more hurtful. She loved Abby, though, and welcomed her with open arms. But she usually chose to not even acknowledge my presence.

The only one in the village who paid me any attention was Kanen'to:kon. He would talk to me if Connor was busy showing Abby the sights and teaching her the ways of the Kanien'keha:ka. It was only ever polite, idle conversations about nothing, but they meant a lot to me.

"What was he like as a kid?" I asked Kanen'to:kon.

"Ratonhnhake:ton?" He always called Connor by his true name. Everyone here did. That was one more thing that made me feel like I didn't belong. "He was...rebellious. Always getting into trouble. Very stubborn. Much like his mother was."

"Kaniehti:io?" I spoke carefully, receiving a nod.

"They share many of the same ideals about the world, judging by the storied I have heard from the elders."

I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Connor didn't talk about his mother much. The memories were too painful for him. He had related to me more details about the woman who'd raised him than he ever had to anyone else. He had even once told me that I reminded him of her. I took that as a compliment, knowing how much he loved her.

I looked at Kanen'to:kon. I knew he and Connor had been very close growing up. Best friends. They had shared a lot together.

"So," I murmured thoughtfully, "tell me about the kind of trouble my husband used to get into."

Kanen'to:kon met my eyes, a sly smile playing on his lips. "I am sure there are details he would not be happy for you to know."

I grinned. "I'm counting on it."

I listened to everything Kanen'to:kon told me, memorizing the parts I knew would embarrass Connor the most. I put them in reserve, with plans to recall them at a later date – with my husband.

Sleeping in Kanatahseton was one of the most difficult tasks of the entire trip. The limited space made rest for me nearly nonexistent. It wasn't just the uncomfortable mats, but the constant tossing and turning of our fifteen month old daughter that disturbed me so much. Abby insisted on sleeping between Connor and me, which often resulted in her feet buried painfully in my side. I had hoped her giving me those sorts of aches had ended when she was born. But that was not the case. I deduced that her toes were even more discomforting from the outside of my body than they had been from the inside.

It was on one such night of restlessness that I had my relationship altering conversation with Oia:ner, as limited as it was. There was really very little talking. Mostly it was gestures and revelations.

That was also the night I spoke to the spirit – a far more unpleasant conversation than the one I had with the clan mother.

Being the middle of summer made it incredibly hot in the longhouse. The fires used for light after the sun had set intensified this immensely. I gave no attention to the visibility of the mark on the back of my neck when I put my hair up to keep it from sicking to me. But Oia:ner noticed it as I sat in the common area looking around while she sewed beads on a buckskin dress with practiced skill.

"Naho:ten ke:ton?" she questioned, tapping her finger on the tattoo.

"I don't-" I paused, knowing she didn't understand English. I thought of what to say. It was a phrase that I used a lot in Kanatahseton. "Um, iah tewake'nikonhraien:ta's."

The old woman nodded, speaking words I didn't understand. I didn't bother telling her that their meaning was lost on me. I'm sure she knew. She was talking to herself, not to me. After she finished, Oia:ner stood up, placing the dress on the ground next to her. She went to her cubicle, and returned a moment later carrying a small box. She held her hand out to me in invitation.

"Kahnyon."

I got up and followed her outside. The night air was still and warm. Stars shone overhead clearly against the black backdrop of the sky. Oia:ner led me to the water's edge and lowered herself to the ground. I sat in front of her, wondering why she had brought me here. She held the box out to me. I took it and opened it. I stared at the object inside with fascination. It looked like a crystal ball. It was clear, about the size of a grapefruit and had strange, familiar markings on it.

I gave the clan mother a questioning glance. She motioned for me to take the orb. I held it, realizing it was not as heavy or cold as I expected it to be. It was weightless and radiated a warmth that was uncommon for an inanimate object. I opened my mouth to speak, to ask Oia:ner what to do next. That was when the world around me changed. It became an ethereal setting of darkness. I looked around, puzzled by what had happened. That was when the spirit materialized in front of me. She bore the omnipresence of a goddess, but not the divinity. She was something else. Something powerful, but restrained. Caged, like a wild animal. She stared at me with an irritated countenance, as thought I were not welcomed.

"Why have you come to this place?"

Her voice seemed to come from all around me, not only from her lips. It reminded me of a parlor trick a magician would use to display a greater sense of might than they truly possesed. I got the feeling she was trying to intimidate me, to make me feel insignificant and small. Her self-righteousness annoyed me. I really didn't see her as all that important.

"I didn't ask to be here," I told her.

I didn't try to make my words polite. I let my tone convey my disdain for her and the way she made me feel. That seemed to amuse her. A sly smile played at her lips as she watched me. Her gaze penetrated my mind. I knew she could tell what I was thinking.

"No," she agreed. "Yet, here you are. Trapped in a purposeless existence for reasons beyond your comprehension."

Her words angered me even more than her tone, but also gave me the notion that she knew how I had come to be where I was. I wanted to ask, but I knew she wouldn't tell me.

"I know more than you think," I retorted.

The spirit let out a humorless chuckle. "Do you, child?" She stared at me with a calculating coldness. Again, I got the feeling she could tell what I was thinking. "The key," she spoke, as if to confirm my thought, "will be found. Your intervention has done nothing to deter him."

I didn't know who she was talking about – what she was talking about. But I didn't let her know that. I tried to maintain an air of importance that I no longer felt as memories of the life I had forgotten filled my head. I struggled to push them away, to remember who I was. I was the wife of Connor. The mother of Abby. That was my life now. Not the illusions she was showing me of an unimportant girl who served coffee for minimum wage.

I glared at her as she grinned at me.

"Go," she said. "Enjoy what little time you have left here. But do so knowing you have failed."

With a wave of her hand, the strange place vanished and I found myself lying on the shore, staring up at the stars, as the clan mother hovered over me. The orb was put up, back in the box. I had no desire to see it again.

I sat up, confused with what had happened. Oia:ner stood up, watching me with a kindness I wasn't used to getting from her. She held out her hand to me.

"Ha' ki' o:nen tsitiahten:ti," she spoke.

I reached up, taking her offered hand, and got to my feet. We walked back to the longhouse together in silence. I went back to bed, staring at my family while they slept peacefully. I had no desire to ever leave them. I wanted to remain here forever, no mater how impossible it seemed. I would fight to stay, to keep what was important to me.

Kanien'keha:ka:

Naho:ten ke:ton? - What does that mean?

iah tewake'nikonhraien:ta's. - I don't understand.

Kahnyon - Come here.

Ha' ki' o:nen tsitiahten:ti - Let's go home now.