There is a marriage in a small church, and the bride has blond hair, and smiles as though her head has, finally, healed
Her father has a moment of panic before the ceremony, when he looks out at the congregation and realizes that the Indian woman walking to take her place at the front of the church is wearing a cross about her neck.
No blue necklace, now.
But he turns to take his daughter up the aisle, the fear stops. Turns to a sharp bite of happiness.
She is wearing the same dress she wore to go to court – a fine, pale blue. But it has been strung all over with daisies, apple blossom, tea roses, and she seems less uncomfortable, wearing a mantle of spring over a dress the colour of the sky. A wreath of tiny roses and pearly ribbons decorates her hair, which has been combed out in a sheath of wheat about her shoulders, fountaining down her back.
And she wears a necklace.
An odd, foreign necklace, which sparks whispers as he father leads up her the aisle. A necklace in a bright turquoise blue, a mother of pearl shell sheened all over with rainbows dangling from the center. A necklace of wind and rain and freedom.
He does not look at the woman who gave it to his daughter, as he hands her to Thomas, who smiles with more joy than should be possible. His wounds have healed. He is holding the hand of the girl he loves.
They intend to travel. To see the world on her father's ship, for he claims he is getting too old, and gives it happily to them. He stands alone at their wedding, smiling, occasionally clutching his side.
Pocahontas and her husband stand together, hands entwined. She does not look at the father of the bride.
They part on cordial terms. Pocahontas tells her husband her intentions – to go back to their home as his wife, because she does love him, truly. They have a solid, peaceful life together. And she has changed enough for that to be what she really wants. But they will go and look for the other Powhatan tribes, and try and find her friends. Her family. Try and find Nakoma, and her family, if she has one. If she is not dead.
And Pocahontas will wear her hair loose, and dress plainly, for all she agrees to wear his people's clothes. For his part, John is simply glad to have his wife again.
The night before she leaves, she speaks to John Smith.
Then she kisses her son and his wife goodbye.
Smiles at John Smith.
Then she and her husband leave.
They never see her again.
...
She dictates a letter to her son and his young wife to her husband, who can barely write for tears. Then she asks him to carry her up to the deck.
She is so little in his arms. Too thin. A shadow of who she was, once upon a time.
As he picks her up she reaches under her pillow and pulls out a silken bag.
On the deck, the wind whips up a exultation of air. It twines around them, takes the breath away, roars up her hair into a blissful, wild tangle of darkness.
Pocahontas shuts her eyes, clutches at the object inside the silken bag, and smiles.