20. Dreamcatcher

Dawn gave way to broad daylight slowly. Lara noticed it in the pristine light coming through the window. She blinked and then remembered what happened. She tried to move, but then she felt his weight on her body.

Kurtis lay on her, his naked body entwined with hers, his head resting on her shoulder, his huge hand on her flat belly. They were on the narrow bed of what had been his childhood's room, where they had come after what happened on the kitchen table, which had not been enough - neither for him nor for her. On that little bed in which barely both fit, everything had begun again.

Lara felt sore, both outside and inside, but it was a well-known, pleasant pain that she herself had required and accepted. The physical pleasure had been even stronger, but now it had vanished, while the pain persisted - a minor price to pay. That was how she liked it.

Silence invaded the house. Suddenly she realized, stunned, that Anna hadn't yet show up and that Marie lay dead in the next room. And they... they had simply been...

She moved again, slightly, and then Kurtis woke up. She heard him breathe deeply and his hand rose from her belly to her breast. Lara closed her eyes. It wasn't right, that desperate and hungry sex, much less when issues between them weren't quite solved yet, much less with their daughter missing and the woman who saved her life lay still and cold in the next room. But apart from indecent, that had felt hopelessly natural. Irremediably human. The pulse of life, which never stopped.

She noticed how he half got up and then, his mouth on her breast, her sternum, going up her throat, until he reached her lips. She opened them for him. Before she even opened her eyes, she knew that the blue immensity of his gaze would be on her. His fingers caressed her face.

Lara opened her eyes and looked at him. Yes, there were those eyes, wet, tired, reddened. She wasn't one for crying, but Kurtis seemed to ignore know how to cry.

He watched her silently for a few moments. She thought he wanted to tell her something, but then he changed his mind and started to get up.

Lara's thighs caught his hips, as she always did when wanting him to stay.

"No." She whispered. "Not yet." She didn't know why she spoke softly. But it didn't matter. He leaned on one elbow and stared at her, so beautiful, dishevelled hair, parted lips, panting suddenly. "Once again."

"Lara..."

"Once again. Please." She took his hand and put it on her breast. "Just one more time. Then we'll take care of the rest."

He hesitated a few seconds, then, he lay back on her.

Marie Cornel's death news spread like wildfire. Suddenly, many people gathered in front of the cabin, including the shaman, Hok'ee, who faced Kurtis furiously. "Your mother was dying, and you didn't tell us." He snapped. "She was as part of us as you. Tradition requires that our people doesn't die alone."

"She died in my arms, shaman." Kurtis replied bitterly. Beside him, Lara stared at the Navajo with a frown. "She had no one but me. The hell do you want now, Hok'ee?"

"I should've been present, as the shaman. Your mother has died defenceless, and all of you, your daughter and this woman, have been left without my protection, exposed to evil spirits."

"As if you know shit about evil spirits." Kurtis muttered. "And this woman is the mother of my daughter, so from now on you address her with respect or you leave."

He felt Lara's hand lean on his arm as Hok'ee straightened: "What will be your next offense, Hashkeh? Give your mother a Christian burial?"

"Stop." A voice was heard behind the shaman. A woman left the group of observers and approached them. "These fights are useless. Let's take care of Marie, which is the only thing we can do now."

Kurtis knew her. It was Nizhoni, Shilah's wife, and one of the closest people to Marie. The clan loved her and respected her almost as much as the deceased healer, but seeing her, Hok'ee also frowned. "Tradition requires that two men..."

"...two naked men, covered in ash to protect themselves from evil spirits, must wash and clothe the body." Nizhoni recited, unable to avoid a tone of exasperation. "Yes, I know, Hok'ee. But she didn't want that. She told us before leaving. She told us many things, and we'll do what she wanted." Then she looked at Kurtis. "If you don't object, Hashkeh." He shook his head slightly, and then Nizhoni made a sign and two women came quickly. Then the woman smiled at Lara: "Don't be offended, please, but being bilagáana..."

"It's fine." Lara said. Anyway, she didn't feel like seeing Marie naked and much less taking part in that ritual. Marie was gone, everything else was accessory.

As she went toward the house, Nizhoni still said: "My husband found Anna wandering the plain, on foot and carrying the horse on the reins. The girl was exhausted and so animal, so they stayed at my house tonight. We'll bring them later."

"Thank you." Lara murmured.

Hok'ee would have wanted the ancient Navajo traditions related to death and burial to remain unchanged, but the truth was that they had long since relaxed, to the point where, interchangeably, the Navajo preferred to bury themselves according to their ancestral traditions, either with the Christian funeral rite.

However, Marie had never given excessive importance to traditions and neither had she been a Christian, so in the end, they proceeded as she would've liked, trusting those women in what she'd told them and in their own intuition.

Nizhoni and her two assistants didn't ask questions or waste time. Surrounding the bed, they undressed Marie, carefully washed her body and dressed her with the best clothes they found in her closet. "She had a dreamcatcher always hanging around her neck, where is it?" Asked one of the women, while carefully brushing the dead woman's white hair.

"Anna has it now." Nizhoni muttered, remembering the moment Shilah had brought her the missing girl. Then she turned to another woman, who was sliding the moccasins on the body's feet. "What are you doing, Dezba?"

The aforementioned had swapped the moccasins, the right one on the left foot and the left one on the right foot. "You have to swap moccasins." She replied, defensive. "Tradition requires it."

Nizhoni shook her head, evoking Marie's disdainful face every time someone exchanged moccasins for the dead but said nothing. Hok'ee had exhausted her limited patience.

When they finished preparing her, Kurtis, Shilah - who'd just arrived - and two other strong Navajo men entered and picked her up. Carrying her on her shoulders, they pulled her out and walked to the plain where the cemetery was. Kurtis realized that the horse in front of them, carrying some of his mother's few belongings, was Niyol, so Anna must be there. He didn't see her, though, in the crowd that began to follow them toward the cemetery, although tradition prohibited anyone else from accompanying the procession and that, of course, no one should watch the burying place: all means aimed to purge and cast evil spirits away.

And, in a way, it was fortunate that the ancient traditions were no longer observed at that point, since they also required that the horse carrying the deceased's belongings should be sacrificed. But nobody would hurt Niyol there.

For a moment, Kurtis looked back. The entire clan followed them, in silence, without screaming, without tears, without extreme manifestations of pain, which were considered dangerous in that culture, attractive to the evil spirits whom, despite everything, they were still fearing.

But there they were, challenging them, following the courtship in silence.

Everyone wanted to bid farewell to Marie Cornel.

The grave was dug in the ground while Hok'ee sang his prayers. Everyone had gathered around her, ignoring the shaman's gaze. Marie's body, now wrapped in her cheerful coloured shawl, lay on the floor waiting to be buried.

The four men who had carried her dug too, as expected, although in the end, Shilah and the other two left the pit and let Kurtis finish, who was mechanically and inexpressively doing his task. No one reproached him for his attitude. That was natural in him.

Lara had placed herself between women and men, not feeling part of anyone there. She was a white woman, a foreigner. Bilagáana.

Then she saw Anna. She was among the women. Nizhoni was holding her and bent down to whisper something in her ear, but she shook her head vigorously and stood in the front row, facing the pit.

She carried an object on her chest that Lara immediately recognized. The dreamcatcher. Lara shuddered as memories returned to her. That object had survived almost as much ordeals as themselves. The first time she'd seen it, sixteen years ago, when Kurtis had kissed it in her presence. Marie's amulet, the healer who didn't believe in amulets.

Anna was pale, dishevelled, and her eyes and nose were so swollen from crying, but at that moment she seemed calm. She stared at the hole, then at her father, who was then throwing the shovel aside; then to her grandmother's body on the floor, and looking up, she saw her mother.

As if pushed by a spring, Anna went toward her. Lara put her arm around her and pulled her close as she felt all eyes fixed on them. When they were next to each other it became obvious how much they looked alike, as well as the fact, apparently irrelevant, that Anna was, like her father, mestizo.

Hok'ee took another step forward and then looked critically at everyone who had challenged the evil spirits for being there. Well, at least he would give them a speech to remember. "A healer came to us." He intoned. "Her name was Marie Cornel."

Lara noticed her daughter hugging her waist and holding her tight. "Mom." She murmured. "Mom, my vision."

Shilah bowed, took Marie's body and handed it to Kurtis, who was still in the pit. The son deposited his mother on the earth, carefully, as if she could still feel pain. Then, the Navajo shepherd handed him a lump wrapped in a colourful cloth. Everyone knew what it was: the bones of her husband, the bilagáana Konstantin Heissturm, which Marie had asked to rest with her. Kurtis placed it on his mother's body. Then he exited the hole with an impulse.

"Life is a constant cycle. Death and life, life and death, the natural order of things, the destiny of all living beings. We don't mourn those who die reaching their purpose. We won't cry for Marie Cornel." Hok'ee looked around. There was a deep silence. "Instead, we give thanks for Marie Cornel. Although she linked her blood to the bilagáana, she never forgot our people. She healed our wounds, accompanied our sick, brought our children to the world, bid farewell to our dead. Now we bid farewell to her, hoping that she'll find her way in peace to the world of spirits. There won't be another one like her."

"There won't be another one like her!" Nizhoni shouted then.

"There won't be another one like her!" Several people from the crowd repeated in turn, men and women, young and old.

"There won't be another one like her." Lara murmured. Only Anna heard her. The girl raised her head. Her mother was calm, serene, staring at Kurtis, who, oblivious to everything and everyone, took the shovel again and began to cover his mother with dirt.

"The earth covering the body wrapped in coloured cloth." Anna murmured then, like absent. The Gift had shown it to her. "Goodbye, Grandma."

And that was it.

The rest, she remembered it as in a strange fog. The faces around her, men and women, shaking her shoulder with affection, telling wonders of the deceased one. The children, sad and silent. One of Nizhoni's little daughters had brought her a flower, which was still stored in her jacket pocket.

But she didn't feel like seeing anyone, nor talking to anyone. She took Niyol from the reins, returned him to the stable and brushed him for a long time. The poor animal was exhausted, but still, affectionate, he passed the soft nose across her face, as if sensing her sorrow. She stroked him gently, while her eyes burned, already so tired that she didn't get to cry.

When she left the stable, she noticed that Shilah, cautious, had been watching her. Be that as it may, no adult left her alone. "You may leave, Shilah." She said. "Go with your wife. I'm not a baby to walk behind me." He didn't seem bothered by her words, but he didn't move from his place either. Only when the girl climbed the steps and entered the cabin, he turned his horse and walked away.

Her parents were in the small, poorly lit kitchen. It was getting dark, and she stayed for a moment behind the mosquito net, watching silently.

Her father was sitting in a chair, looking exhausted and dejected. He had stripped from the waist up, and her mother was cleaning the wounds he still had and changing the dirty patches for some fresh ones.

Something had changed between her parents, it was obvious. And not because her mother was healing his wounds. There was a different air between them, even in the way she cleaned his throat and he let himself do, submissively. Lara frowned at the wound, but the hand that ran the cotton down his neck did it gently, delicately. "It's infected." She heard her say, sighing. "I had no idea he tried to strangle you with a wire. Why didn't you tell me? If I had seen it before..."

Kurtis shrugged. Lara sighed again, tired, and threw the cotton into a bucket with dirty bandages. Then she covered the wound again. "How's your back?" He said, instead. "Yesterday I didn't realize..."

"Hush." She cut off. "It's fine. Sewn and clean. Better than yours. I must..." And suddenly she raised her voice. "Okay, Anna, enough. Come in at once."

Anna blushed suddenly. Then she pushed the mosquito net and entered. "I, huh..."

"What did I told you about listening to conversations?"

The girl changed the weight from one foot to another, uncomfortable. "Ok, it's true. Sorry. I won't do it again."

"What else?"

Anna looked up at her father. "I, huh... Dad, I'm sorry for yesterday."

Kurtis spoke slowly. "You ran like crazy in the open, in the middle of the night. You've had Shilah and Nizhoni in anguish, going after you. You've beaten poor Niyol. He's not a cargo beast for you to treat him like that."

She looked down, embarrassed. "Sorry. I won't do it again either."

"And now try to sleep for a while. You must be exhausted."

Yes, she was. Still looking at the floor, she slipped down the side of the kitchen, perceiving, surprised, that her grandmother's tea set was shattered in the sink, then, as if someone had scrubbed the left wall hard which still reeked of bleach, something that she hadn't before because it mixed with the smell of the disinfectant her mother was using in his father's wounds. What the hell happened here? She thought. But she was too tired to dig it.

However, before leaving for her room, she still turned a moment. "Dad?"

"Hmm?"

She hesitated a moment. Then she sighed. "What I told you yesterday... I'm so sorry. I was angry. I wasn't serious."

"I know, Anna. Go to rest."

When she curled up on her bed, she felt the dreamcatcher against her skin under the sweater. She just wanted to sleep. Sleep without dreams or visions.

After finishing her cure, he insisted on seeing the wound on her back. Overprotective fool, she said, and he smiled for the first time in hours. Her wound was sewn and clean, as she'd told him, although still fresh. The stitches couldn't be removed yet.

While covering the wound again, they decided that Anna should return to England. She'd had too many emotions in such a short time. The girl was shattered. She needed to go home, relax, get distracted, maybe return to the school year which started again without her. But reintegration would be painful. It would take time.

They left the pending issue between them for later. Although she ended up mentioning it. "What about you?" Lara said.

By then, he was sitting on the porch steps, smoking slowly. She, a few steps away, standing in front of him, her silhouette slightly illuminated by the light coming from inside the house.

Kurtis looked at her. Then he shrugged once more. "What do you mean?"

"What are you going to do? Are you going back to England?"

He looked at her in silence, staring at him. Those eyes. The eyes of the Heissturm. "You want me back?" He released suddenly; his voice more acidic than he would've liked.

Lara gulped slightly. "Croft Manor's gates are always open for you; you know that."

Kurtis exhaled the smoke, threw the cigarette on the floor and stepped on it. "That's not what I'm asking." And nailed in her that impossible glance again.

Lara felt a slight tremor in the back of her legs but held firm. Then she blinked and changed her leg weight. "Yes." She finally admitted. "Yes, I want you back."

He kept looking at her for a moment, then looked away. "There's still much to do here. Executing my mother's will, distributing her property... she's left everything to the Diné. The little she had. Shilah and Nizhoni will get the house and the cattle. They'll move here to live."

Lara nodded. "Then, I'll wait for you." He looked at her again, as if he didn't believe her. "Your place is with us. It's always been." She crouched before him and grabbed his hands. They were cold. "I've said things in the past I now regret." She whispered softly. "Most of them weren't true. I'm sorry." She squeezed his fingers tightly. "I have something to tell you, and some things we have to talk about, but not here or now. When you return to England. If you want to come back."

He smiled weakly. Finally. "I'll be back."