Chapter 16
San Juan Capistrano, CA - 2022
The tears had stopped by the time Halona made it to the steps of the large house. Her gaze shot upwards, landing on the "Cross Family" plaque displayed proudly above the doorway. A gasp escaped her lips as a wave of emotion washed over her. A vivid memory flickered to life – Buck and Isaac had spent a week working on carving the letters.
Stepping inside, she was met with the realization this wasn't just any house; it was the one meticulously constructed to be their haven. Though she could see the interior had undergone renovations over the years, the essence of her home remained. Sunlight streamed through the beveled glass windows, illuminating the beautiful hardwood floors. Her eyes were fixated on a particular spot in the parlor – the antique piano. Her piano.
"May I use the restroom, please?" She choked out, her voice barely a whisper. Her hand instinctively reached out to steady herself on the grand staircase.
"Of course," Michael replied kindly, leading her down a narrower hallway. "This is the original bathroom. Back in those days, indoor plumbing was a luxury reserved for the wealthiest families. Guess my great-great-grandfather was quite the progressive fellow."
Halona managed a faint smile, the urge to cry threatening to overwhelm her again. Alone in the cool confines of the bathroom, she splashed water on her face, letting the coolness seep into the heated frenzy within. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she took a deep breath and spoke, her voice firming with resolve, "You're not crazy, Halona. You need to pull yourself together."
Emerging from the bathroom, instead of returning to the parlor she turned and continued down the hallway into a small office. Her fingers brushed against the spines of books lining the shelves.
Suddenly, her breath caught in her throat. Across the room, a glass display case on a table drew her gaze. A jolt of recognition shot through her – a memory, vivid and undeniable, flooded back into her mind.
"Is this a family heirloom?" She asked, her voice hushed as Buck entered the room.
A smile softened his features. "It's a calumet," he explained, gently taking the pipe from her hands and turning it over. "It goes like this."
Intrigued, Halona traced the smooth curves of the wood with her fingertips. "It's beautiful," she murmured. "Is it, like, a peace pipe?"
Buck chuckled. "Not exactly. During sacred ceremonies, it's filled with tobacco for everyone to share in a prayer."
Her curiosity piqued, Halona tilted her head. "What kind of ceremonies?"
"Vision quests," Buck replied, a shadow of nostalgia crossing his face. "Or the Sun Dance."
"Tell me about it," Halona urged, her voice filled with a genuine interest that surprised even her. "I never knew much about my Native heritage."
Buck hesitated, searching for a way to explain the complex ceremony. "It's..." he began, then trailed off. "It involves a lot of preparation. Building a sacred space, a buffalo hunt, days of prayer and celebration… It culminates in the Sun Dance itself, where participants test their endurance for many days and nights without food or water. It's a deeply personal and spiritual experience. Words can't truly capture the essence of it."
Despite his struggle to fully articulate the ceremony's significance, Halona found herself captivated. A yearning she couldn't quite explain stirred within her. Maybe, just maybe, learning about Buck's heritage could offer a bridge to understanding her own.
Halona's gaze held Buck's, a silent question hanging in the air. "Did you do it?" She asked softly. "The Sun Dance?"
Buck's brow furrowed in thought as he met her eyes. "A long time ago," he finally conceded, a hint of nostalgia lacing his voice.
"That peace pipe belonged to Buck Cross," Michael announced, pulling Halona from her daze.
"Calumet," she murmured, still dazed from the force of the memory flooding back.
Michael's brow furrowed. "Pardon me?"
"It's a calumet," she clarified with a smile tugging at her lips as she turned towards him. The intricate carved stem felt so familiar in her minds' eye. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snoop."
"I'm happy to give you a tour," Michael offered kindly.
"That would be great." Halona nodded, eager for a distraction from the emotions swirling within her. "I love Victorian-styled homes. It's one of the reasons I moved to San Francisco."
As they meandered through the foyer, the scent of aged wood and hints of lemon oil tickled her nose. Sunlight filtered through stained glass, casting a mosaic of colors across the hardwood floors.
"Beautiful city," Michael agreed with a warm smile. "My wife Jenna and I took our tenth-anniversary vacation there."
Trying to lighten the mood, Halona impulsively blurted, "Well, next time you're in the city, give me a call. I'd be happy to show you around and have you over for dinner." Realizing she might have overstepped, she quickly added, "It's the least I can do, you did find me, after all."
Michael chuckled. "Thanks." He gestured towards a shelf displaying intricately carved bowls and beaded trinkets. "There are a few more indigenous items over here."
She examined them carefully, fingers tracing the woven patterns. While beautifully crafted, none seemed to be the ones she remembered from her life with Buck. Perhaps they had belonged to Isaac or Megan.
"Buck, he was half Kiowa," Michael explained as they wandered into a small office, "and throughout the generations, we've become a mixed race family, like most people these days, I guess." He walked towards an antique cabinet, running his palm over the ornate woodwork. "Did you know about those ancestry DNA things? You know, the ones where you spit in a tube and they tell you all about your family history?"
Halona stifled a laugh at his chatty, easygoing personality providing a welcome distraction from the chaos in her head. "Yes, I'm familiar with them."
"Well, I barely have any indigenous blood left according to mine," Michael rambled on with a shrug. "Though there was an interesting journal entry from Megan - apparently they had a full-blooded relative, maybe a sibling."
P'áu úldàu Má é - or as she knew him, Red Bear
A pang of sadness squeezed Halona's heart. She knew Buck had grappled with his dual heritage – half white, half Kiowa – but he'd always held immense pride in his roots. He'd made a conscious effort to teach Isaac and Megan about their ancestry. A wave of sadness washed over her as she realized that his descendants hadn't carried on that tradition. Moving to California, far from Buck's Kiowa roots, had likely severed those ties. How would their future generations even know where they came from? A pang of guilt stabbed at her heart. They had moved west because of her.
"Here we go." Michael pulled a framed sepia-toned photograph off the wall, the image drawing Halona's gaze like a magnet. "Here's a picture of Buck and his children. It's a shame, I don't know why they didn't take a picture before she left, but there are no pictures of his wife."
"Yeah, shame," Halona murmured, running her fingernails over the glass with a mournful ache in her chest.
Buck's face in the image held a stoic expression, etched with lines that hadn't creased his features in her memories of him. He looked older, burdened by some unseen weight, and yet a flicker of the man she loved still shone through those eyes.
"This picture was taken right before their father went missing," Michael added somberly.
"Do you have any pictures of the children?" Halona asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she drank in every detail of the image. "When they were older?"
"Sure, let me see..." Michael rummaged through a nearby drawer, the contents clinking as he shuffled papers and knickknacks aside. He pulled out a few more photographs and presented them to Halona, each one a portal into the life she had lost.
One captured a radiant young woman on her wedding day. Megan, transformed into a beautiful stranger - and yet still undeniably her little girl that she used to tuck into bed at night, whispering prayers. Tears welled in Halona's eyes as she looked at the next picture, it showed Isaac, surrounded by his own family decades later. Though years had etched lines into his face, there was an undeniable resemblance to his father. His nose, cheekbones, and piercing gaze reflected back at her across the span of time.
Halona wandered slowly, her eyes studying each preserved relic and captured memory with a mix of longing and disbelief. She had to admit a small part of her searched for any glimpse of the silver pocket watch - but it was not among the heirlooms on display. Part of her knew there weren't any clear answers to what was happening - but her soul still ached to find an explanation.
A warm smile spread across her face when her gaze found the leather-bound journal she had gifted Megan when they were passing through San Francisco so many lifetimes ago. She carefully flipped through the yellowed pages, her heart shattering at each word penned by her daughter's hand describing the heartbreak of her father's disappearance.
Halona's breath caught as a small slip of paper fluttered onto the floor, going unseen by Michael. She quickly bent over and snatched it up, her mouth dropping open as she recognized her own handwriting on the aged parchment. Without a second thought, she shoved the note into her pocket.
A sliver of guilt rippled through her. She paused for a moment. She wanted to shove it in her purse, to devour every word of it, but she wasn't a thief. Even in desperation, she couldn't take this family memento from him. A sadness ripped through her. Those few years of happiness, gone. Like she was never there. Now she had to live her life. She needed to leave them in the past. She took a deep steadying breath as she tenderly placed the book on the shelf.
As Michael ushered her up the grand staircase to continue the tour, Halona couldn't shake the hollow ache in her chest. This house, this life, this was what should have been her reality. The master bedroom took her breath away. Sunlight streamed through the French doors, unveiling a breathtaking panorama of the Pacific coastline glittering in the afternoon light. The fresh, briny scent of the ocean embraced her. A bittersweet smile tugged at her lips as she drank in the view - this picturesque setting, this room. She felt her chin quiver, knowing that Buck had chosen to craft their forever home in this perfect slice of paradise.
If only she could have stayed...