He heard his grandfather chuckle. He knew better than to look for the old man. The chats with Chester had been a daily occurrence now. He had started looking forward to them, no matter what he was in the middle of at the time.
“Still playing cowboys and Indians, little Ch’al.”
Ever since he’d passed the BUD/S training, Grandfather referred to him as Ch’al, or frog.
Danny remembered the old story about the frog and the crane working together to bring rain to a burning mountain to save the village in the fire’s destructive path. He could use a little cold water right about now. He was split in two, half of him wanting to follow someone down the beach for some fun and the other half knowing he should listen to the old man. He’d learned that if he fought the man off, it would only get worse.
“It takes a frog and a crane to save a village, Grandfather,” he whispered to the wind and the sea. A couple of stark white and light grey seagulls swooped down and landed ten feet away from him as if he’d called them. One of them inclined its head, studying Danny carefully.
“That you?” Danny said to the bird.
His grandfather chuckled again. If he could see the little man, Danny knew he’d be on his butt, feet in the air, holding his belly, like he used to do when Danny pretend shot him with his rubber-tipped arrows as a youngster. Overcome with laughter, the voice of his grandfather had to try several times before getting a word or two out. “If I was going to be a bird, Danny, I’d be an eagle or an owl. Not a seagull. They eat garbage.”
But the seagull still kept his black, beady eye on Danny.
“You
know
what you’re supposed to do, Danny. You’ve got that Trident. Now it’s time to go back home and tell The People.”
Neither Jeffrey nor Danny had a single family member at the Trident ceremony two days prior. He’d watched the parents and siblings, occasionally a wife and children, greet the new baby SEALs around them, and he felt a pang of guilt at not informing his mother or Wilson or anyone else that he’d passed. He’d been feeling melancholy before Jeffrey came up to him and whispered, “Wanna hold hands?”
Jeffrey’s polished white smile was just begging for a chop to the jaw, but with all the women and children present, it wasn’t a very good idea.
“Gotcha, big guy, for all those imaginary scalpings I’ve been receiving for the past few weeks.”
While other families celebrated at local restaurants and stayed together in local hotels, he and Jeffrey spent the remainder of that day looking at expensive sports cars that Jeffrey could afford. One of the dealers allowed his friend to take a Ferrari for the weekend, and Danny knew he was going to enjoy every minute of it. They agreed to meet up today, Monday, at the water’s edge and make plans for their break.
“You have a strong friend and someone you can trust, Danny,” his grandfather’s voice could barely be heard over the sound of the waves crashing. “Time to let him see. Maybe a friend can help you bridge the gap between your old self and the man you have become.”
He doubted this was anything even close to being on Jeffrey’s radar screen.
Jeffrey snuck up behind Danny while he was deep in mental conversation with his grandfather, the sound of the ocean masking his footsteps. Within seconds, they were tussling in the sand, rolling toward the surf. Even the splash of cold ocean water couldn’t stop them. They drew a small crowd, which quickly dispersed when Danny gave a hand up to Jeffrey, both of them voluntarily wet and sandy, laughing so hard they didn’t notice the sleeper wave that drenched them and nearly toppled them both.
“Show’s over, folks,” Jeffrey said with a bow. He wiggled his eyebrows toward a female contingent who hovered. He flicked away salt water and pieces of seaweed and reached for two long-necked beers inside a plain brown paper bag Jeffrey brought. He handed one to Danny, sat down in the sand and Danny joined him.
The ice-cold brew tasted divine. Danny caught his breath, occasionally shaking his head and swearing in tandem with his teammate. He enjoyed the celebratory moment after the yearlong ordeal of their SEAL training. They would have a week off before they had to report to workup. Some of his BUD/S instructors had reminded him he wasn’t a true frog yet. Maybe a tadpole with legs.
“So, what are your plans?” Danny asked.
“Oh, thought I’d drive up the coast to San Francisco and hang for a few days. Still a couple of girls there I haven’t met,” answered Jeffrey.
“How about coming with me back to the res, back to Arizona? Need to stop by Eureka and beg forgiveness from my mom, but after that, my cousin and a few friends are at the res near Flagstaff. Could stop off in Sedona. You feel like tagging along?”
Jeffrey finished the rest of his beer, depositing the bottle and grabbing another, before answering. “I’m not very good with the family gathering type of thing. You know that, Danny.”
“Not sure I know much of anything about you, Jeffrey. That’s okay, though. What I do know I respect and trust. We all have our private places.”
“My mom’s a nut job. Got herself mixed up in some religious apocalyptical group during my high school years. Dad took off. Can’t say as I blamed him. I actually spent most of my time away from the house as much as possible.”
“Now I understand your concern for me talking with my ancestors.”
Jeffrey shrugged. “In my case, that would be very scary. I survived, got a scholarship to college and then got into this game stuff, and, well, took to it.”
“You have any contact with your parents now?”
“Nah. My dad showed up after he read an article about me in the paper making all that money. That jerk. Not ready to repair that old truck yet. Maybe some day.”
“Well, if it makes you feel better, there’s not much of any real gathering planned since only my mother and cousin know I even enlisted, but I owe a visit to a couple of people.”
“Okay. I’m game. Was going to offer to fly us to some place tropical. You sure I can’t twist your arm?”
“No, man, you go ahead then. I gotta settle some things back in Arizona.”
“So does the rest of your family go all stealth, scaring unwitting white boys like you do?”
Danny chuckled. “You did a pretty fuckin’ good job of that just now, frog man. I’d say you’ve gotten broken in a bit.”
“Okay, I’m game. Let’s go see your people for a couple of days, and then I’ll fly us someplace nice for the rest of the week.”
“As long as there’s no sand. I’ve eaten enough sand to last a lifetime,” said Danny.
“As long as you protect me, then from all those spiritwalkers you talk about.” Jeffrey grinned, his white teeth flashing as if they were lit from within.
“Nah. You’ll be okay. You’ll see. Hope you like dusty roads, war paint, and feathers, though.”
‡
L
uci ran into
James at the local supermarket and agreed to have coffee afterward. Griffin and his big dark eyes studied James like an old soul, frowning as if judging him unworthy.
“He’s probably got a load coming, James. Not to worry,” she said to him.
Looking at him across the tiny Formica tabletop, she saw he was a good man. She was sure there was something he wasn’t telling her.
“You ever have kids?” she asked him.
“Nope. Never been married.”
“Really?” It genuinely surprised her.
His eyes searched her face, landing on her lips. “Some day. Not right now.”
“Work?” She knew if she asked him what she suspected, he’d lie again.
“Something like that.”
“Me too,” she admitted as she gave Griffin her forefinger and coaxed a smile from the baby’s round Dine face.
“I have no right to ask you this, but who’s the father?”
“A friend. Sperm donor.”
“Ah,” he said and leaned away from her. His smile snagged her.
“What? You have a problem with that?”
“And what if I did? Does it really matter?”
“Of course not.”
“It’s just that some of us guys kinda feel a little useless. So you call us sperm donors now? You want the baby, but not the man. I guess I’m a bit old fashioned.”
The look they shared opened some doors inside her heart. There was a wounded little boy there somewhere. She also recognized in herself some loneliness, though she’d told herself having Griffin cured most of that.
James got a ping on his phone, checked it, and then stood. “I have to go.”
“Thanks for the coffee.”
“You’re welcome.” She could see he was hesitant to leave, wanting to say something else. “Luci, I think Corwin’s coming back to the res. You remember what I told you?”
“I do.”
“Pay attention to
everything
. Especially now. Stay close to your mother and Sarah, keep track of one another.”
“Noted. Thanks.”
He looked like he wanted to shake her hand for a second but he turned, and she watched his tall frame walk outside into the sunny parking lot. He put on his thin metal shades, checked both ways for traffic, and headed to his car. The grocery bag he carried could have been a child, but it was just groceries. She wondered if the stories and chanting were starting to rub off on her. Was she seeing part of his future? And if so, how come she felt he was the real one in danger?
‡
D
anny, Jeffrey, and
Wilson dashed into the supermarket on a mission to get pizza, beers, fresh fruit, and TV dinners for Wilson’s sorely abandoned bachelor pad. Wilson and Jeffrey found a quick friendship. Danny was happy.
He glanced in the corner as they passed the coffee bar and saw Luci focused on what appeared to be a nursing baby discretely tucked under a large privacy sling. He stopped dead in his tracks.
Wilson ran into his backside. “Fuck it, Danny. You’re as clumsy as Emma Barnowl’s potbellied pig.” He followed the trajectory of Danny’s line of sight. “You know her? Luci?”
Danny nodded. “I’ll catch up with you. Give me a minute, okay?”
Jeffrey tilted his head and raised his eyebrows, looking between Danny and Luci. “Catch ya later, Chief.”
Danny paid no attention and walked toward the corner. “Luci?”
Her face registered shock at first and then softened.
“Hi, Danny.” She brought the groggy baby from her chest, covered herself up, and put him over her shoulder to burp him. “This little fellow is Griffin.”
Danny moved around to the side, taking in the sight of the chubby-cheeked, jet-black-haired infant, whose little arms crossed under his chin as his little body was arched over Luci’s shoulder, his fingers barely moving. His eyes were tightly closed.
“I didn’t know, Luci,” he found the courage to utter.
“Of course not. How could you? Not like you’ve been around much, or much that I saw anyway.” Her clear black eyes still speared him like they’d done a year ago.
He let the mild insult wash off him. “How old is Griff—”
“Griffin. It’s Griffin. He’s three months. He’s big for three months.” Luci gave him a short smile, which ended quickly.
“Well, congratulations, then. So who’s the lucky guy?”
“I’m afraid Griffin’s father has been out of the picture since the night he was conceived.”
Danny felt like he’d been hit in the gut. His legs wobbled. The chanting began a shrill refrain. It was accusatory, a warning. The sound sucked up all the air in the corner and made the back of his neck tense. He swallowed hard and, not knowing what else to do, he sat down.
He felt eyes on him from customers waiting in line at the registers. The barista even glanced over at him with a frown. Was it his imagination, or had he just stepped on a cat’s tail?
Luci let him squirm. He could tell she was waiting for him to form the question he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to. “Where
is
his father?” he asked, and then did a quick scan of the store as if he’d find him in the liquor shelves or tucked neatly in the bread section. Luci waited. He felt her examining him, watching him.
At last, he had to look back at her. She had the same full lips, the high cheekbones, and wide, smooth, flat forehead of his people. Her dark eyes sparkled, her face beautiful in the late afternoon sunlight, flawless, without any makeup at all. Her honest eyes pulled something deep from inside him, laying it on the table between them as if she had unfolded a sacred cloth. The chanters whispered and hissed reproaches in his ear, scolding him.