A Rainbow in Paradise Read online

  Esther, on the other hand, was her image of the typical Navajo woman, only dressed for town, rather than for the reservation, in cotton slacks and a loose overblouse, her hair cut in a fluffy short style rather than bound back in the traditional bun. She wore silver and turquoise in her ears and in a stunning bracelet high on her forearm.

  It was Celia who was the surprise. Her long, black hair tucked neatly into a clean French braid, Celia wore her ancestry on her face—a darker, feminine version of Logan's. Yet everything else about her proclaimed her a typical young teen—about fourteen, Eden guessed. From her trendy, high-top sneakers to her blue jeans to her fashion magazine makeup, Celia was a child of her age. The one point in her dress that clearly identified her as native was her T-shirt.

  Made of plain white cotton knit, it sported the portraits of four Native American heroes. Eden recognized the one labeled Red Cloud, Oglala Sioux and the one labeled Sitting Bull, Hunkpapa Sioux. She didn't know the other two portraits, though she immediately knew the name of Tecumseh, Shawnee. It was the fourth portrait that caught her attention. Though she had lived on the edge of the Navajo nation her entire life, if it hadn't been for the stories Logan had told her recently, she never would have recognized either the portrait or the name of Manuelito, Navajo. Then as Celia turned to wiggle out of the booth where she'd been sitting, Eden read the legend on the back of her shirt and almost laughed aloud. In large black letters, the shirt proclaimed, My Heroes Have Always Fought Cowboys.

  "I like your shirt," she ventured, grinning at the girl.

  "Thanks," Celia answered, grinning back.

  Eden was still smiling as the older man clasped Logan's shoulder in greeting. Then there was a jumble of mixed Navajo and English as everyone talked at once. Somehow, Logan worked into the confusion an opportunity to introduce Eden to everyone, then to introduce "Albert Redhorse, his wife Esther, and their daughter, Celia" to her.

  Even in the midst of the confusion, Eden couldn't help but notice that he didn't speak of the man as his father, or acknowledge kinship to either of the women, either. Though that suggested a formal kind of distancing, she didn't feel any tension among the group in front of her. In fact, they seemed very much like family, with a warmth and acceptance she had seldom seen except, perhaps, among the McAllisters.

  "They are coming to Grandmother's hogan for Celia's kinaalda," Logan explained.

  "You said that earlier," Eden responded, "but what is a kin—"

  "Kinaalda. My kinaalda," Celia answered. "It's the coming-of-age ceremony that is held for Dineh girls. I wanted to have mine here so my grandmother can be my..." She turned to Logan. "How do you say that in English?"

  He tried the word in Navajo, and then answered, "I don't know exactly. It means something like 'ideal woman.' "

  "Yes," said Celia brightly. "So Grandmother can be my ideal woman." Logan saw Eden's confusion. "There's a woman who leads the kinaalda through her ceremony," he explained. “The girl usually chooses someone a couple of generations older who has been a role model to her for the kind of woman she wants to be as an adult."

  "Besides, I wanted a Chinle kinaalda,''' Celia answered. "They don't do them right in Pinedale."

  There followed a flood of spoken Navajo—it seemed to Eden that everyone was talking at once—and through Logan's occasional bits of translation, Eden learned that the kinaalda had once been standard practice among the Dineh, then had become almost passé during the decades of the 70s and 80s. "It saw some resurgence in the 90s and is coming back strong now as more and more young Dineh want to return to their roots," he explained. "The families sometimes insist on it, too, so their daughters will grow up to be virtuous women, of worth and reputation among the People."

  Logan asked in English about singers and through the jumble of both languages that followed, Eden sorted out that Frank Manypersons was to be the chief singer for the planned kinaalda. She knew a "singer" was a medicine man or shaman, one who had spent years learning the songs and chants that encompassed the oral history, myths and traditions of the Dineh, as well as their blessing and curing ceremonies. Other singers were mentioned as participants.

  Within minutes, it had been decided when the kinaalda would begin and end, what would be served to the guests, and that Logan—apparently the wealthiest of the honored girl's relatives—would provide the sheep for the feast and the corn for the 'alkaan, which Logan explained as a kind of pit-baked corn cake that was a traditional part of every ideal kinaalda.

  "You will come, won't you, Eden?" Celia spoke as the conversation was breaking up. “At least for the big public day and night?"

  "I... I don't know," Eden stammered, looking to Logan for help. "Is it... can you have a belagaana there?"

  There was a moment's hesitation and Eden thought Albert and Esther looked decidedly uncomfortable. Then Celia answered, "I can if I want. I'm the kinaalda." She looked to Esther. "Right, Mom?"

  Esther answered in Navajo, and then seemed to realize she was excluding Eden. She repeated, "That's right, Celia. You are the kinaalda.''

  "Then you'll come, won't you, Eden?" Celia pressed.

  Eden looked to Logan for help, but if he was offering any, she wasn't seeing it. Finally she answered, "I'll see what I can do."

  "Do come," Celia insisted as her mother drew her away.

  "I'll see if I can," Eden said again.

  Apparently the Redhorses had finished their meal just before Logan and Eden arrived. Now as Albert paid their bill, they started outside to their pickup truck.

  "It was good to meet you," Eden said as she nodded first to Albert, then to Esther.

  When she turned to Celia, the girl grabbed her hand. "I want you to see what we're all about," Celia said. "Get Logan to bring you out on Tuesday. That's the public day. Come early."

  "I'll see," Eden said again, warmed by the girl's eager acceptance. Though neither Albert nor his wife had been rude in the way Logan's grandmother had, she felt a chilly distance in their approach to her.

  "'Bye," she called moments later as she and Logan waved the other pickup on its way toward Ella Redhorse's hogan.

  "Shall we get some lunch?" Logan invited.

  Eden demurred. "No, thanks. I ate a little while before you arrived."

  "Home then?" he asked.

  She nodded. "Home."

  Logan helped Eden into his truck. Moments later, as they pulled out onto the street, Eden decided to broach the uncomfortable subject. "I suppose you didn't expect Celia to invite me."

  "I must admit it surprised me a little."

  "I gathered that." Again the silence stretched. "Listen, Logan, I can see what's happening. Your grandmother has no use for me at all, and neither your father nor stepmother is any too crazy about me—"

  "They're just not used to meeting belagaana in any kind of social setting. They'll warm up."

  "They don't need to," she offered. "I'd only be putting you in a very uncomfortable situation if I came to your sister's ceremony, the... what's it called again?"

  "Kinaalda," he answered, heavily accenting the final syllable.

  "If I came to Celia's kinaalda," Eden finished. "So you see, I do understand. Just take me home and we'll tell each other what a lovely morning this has been, then you can make up some excuse about how I was too busy when Celia asks you where I am."

  He gave her a long, searching look. "Is that what you want?"

  She looked away, swallowed hard. "That's probably what is best."

  "That isn't what I asked."

  Confused, Eden watched the road. They were almost out of Holbrook. Once they reached the highway, it wouldn't take long for them to be back in Rainbow Rock.

  "Eden, is that what you want?"

  She sighed and faced him again. "Logan, I'm confused. I don't know what I want."

  "I know what I want," he said slowly, his eyes burning with intensity. "I want to ignore my grandmother's wishes, and pretend I didn't notice my father's coolness toward you. I want to spend this l
ast little while with you before you have to go back to Phoenix."

  His intensity almost took Eden's breath away. "I... I don't know if that's..." she stammered. Then she tried again. "Is it acceptable for someone like me to attend a ceremony?''

  He shrugged. "You wouldn't be the first belagaana to attend one," he answered. "Besides, Celia's right. She's the kinaalda. If she asks you, it's almost rude for you not to come."

  "Celia is the kinaalda?'' she asked. "Does that word apply to the girl or the ceremony itself?"

  "Both," Logan answered. "It's the name for the ceremony, and for the girl while she is going through the ceremony."

  "And it takes several days?"

  He nodded. "Um-hm. Usually eight to ten days, though the more open parts last for only the first five."

  "And you're coming for all five days?"

  "Oh no, I can't get away for that long. I'll come for the fourth day and night, though. As Celia said, that's the public part of the ceremony. They're starting on Saturday, so that will be Tuesday. Eden, will you come with me?''

  "You know your grandmother will have a fit, don't you?"

  His face was straight, though there was a twinkle in his eye as he answered, "It will be good for her. So, will you come?"

  Searching his eyes, she made her choice. "I'd love to," she answered, and watched his face soften in a smile.

  * * * * *

  "That's it, then." The real estate agent Eden had hired began packing up her papers, including the listing contract Eden had just signed. "We'll put this place on the official home tour for agents on Thursday, and open it to potential buyers this weekend."

  "That soon?" Eden felt a sinking sensation. "It's only Monday now."

  "We at Babbitt Realty don't let any grass grow under our feet," the woman assured her, tossing her a beaming, hard-sell smile.

  "But I may not even be gone by Thursday."

  "Oh, no problem. Just tidy up that room you're staying in before you go out for the day. We show lots of homes that are fully occupied. It'll be no problem to work around your few things."

  "Oh." Eden tried to smile about the prospect. "Well... good."

  "You'll be surprised how quickly things can move. You have this place in nice shape, too, and you’re asking a fair price, nicely in line with the market, so I wouldn't be surprised if it sells fairly quickly."

  "That'll be... good," Eden answered. Until this moment she hadn't realized it might be difficult to let go of the house she had grown up in, the home where she had known her mother, the place Logan had helped her prepare for sale.

  She sighed as she showed the agent out. "’Bye. Thanks again."

  "No problem!" the woman answered, so cheerily it made Eden's teeth ache.

  No problem. Her home, and it could be nothing more than a scrap of paper in her file box in a matter of weeks—days, if Liz Corbin had her way. Feeling desultory sadness, Eden wandered through the empty house.

  The rooms were filled with memories: the time Robbie spilled grape soda on the living room carpet and they'd both scrubbed like charwomen to keep it from showing when their dad got home; the day the neighbor's cat had slipped in through an open window to give birth to five kittens in the bottom of Eden's closet; the overnights she'd had in her room with Sarah; the time her mother had taught her to bake snickerdoodles in their kitchen. Mixed in with all of them were recent memories of Logan Redhorse.

  He had spent almost all day Saturday with her, despite commitments to his family, already involved in Celia's kinaalda. They had finished the painting together—some touch-up in the kitchen and on the back porch, plus fresh paint in the master bath—and had even taken some time to work in the backyard for a while, Logan pruning the trees and shrubbery while Eden ran the mower. He had been a lighthearted companion, a willing worker, and a steady friend. She didn't want to think about how much she would miss him.

  But what if he could have overcome those commitments to his generations? she found herself wondering. What about your own fears of commitment? If he came to you as a free man, would you welcome him? Or would you find some excuse to distance yourself from him, the way you always have?

  "I don't know," she answered aloud. "How can I know when it's not possible?"

  You know, her little voice answered within her.

  She looked at her watch and sighed. He'll be here in just a few hours, she thought, her heart picking up speed. We'll spend tomorrow at Celia's ceremony, and after that...

  After that, they had no plans to see each other again. She'd load up her little car and drive back to her business and her Phoenix apartment, and Logan would find the woman of his dreams, the one who would become the mother of his already honored children. The thought made her long to sit right down and cry.

  * * * * *

  The alarm went off at 2:30 Tuesday morning and Eden groaned and rolled over, certain she must have set it wrong. But it seems like I barely went to sleep, she thought, noting the time and realizing she was right.

  Fighting to open her eyes, she remembered why she was getting up at this horrific hour and argued herself awake. She showered, dressed quickly, did her hair and makeup, and then, unable to eat in the middle of the night, she simply waited for Logan.

  Remembering how she had felt when she was Celia's age, she wondered if she would not have benefited from having this kind of warm attention as she sat at the dawn of womanhood. That had been a rough time in her life—wasn't it a rough time in any kid's life?—and she couldn't help but feel this kind of caring would have done worlds of good. Just how much caring, she really had no idea, but she began to realize an hour and a half later as she and Logan pulled into the dooryard of Ella's rancheria and had to hunt to find space to park. She counted more than thirty trucks and cars as they walked, hand in hand, toward the hogan.

  "Who are all these people?" she asked in hushed tones.

  "Relatives, clan members, the singers, and some who came with them." Logan nodded toward a place where a group of children had gathered on the hill. "Guessing from the number of kids here, I'd say we probably have over a hundred people altogether."

  "A hundred!" Eden had a hard time imagining where her family would have found a hundred people willing to celebrate with her when she was Celia's age. It astounded her, especially when she realized that many of these people had given up much of this week to share with Celia.

  "Come on," Logan said, taking her hand as he ducked his head to enter the hogan. She entered behind him, her eyes quickly adjusting to the light of a couple of kerosene lanterns. Opposite them, at the western side of the hogan, sat a traditional Navajo blanket.

  The space against the west wall, behind the blanket, was empty. To its left sat Celia—looking not at all like the modern teenager Eden remembered, her hair bound up in a bun, her body clothed in a rich red satin skirt and purple velveteen blouse, draped with the most exquisite turquoise squash-blossom necklace Eden had ever seen. Beside Celia sat her grandmother, Ella Begay Redhorse, who barely looked up as Logan and Eden entered, apparently too caught up in her ceremonial role as the “ideal woman” to give the belagaana much thought.

  At least that's a blessing, Eden thought with relief. To Celia's right, on the other side of the ceremonial blanket, sat a series of three older Navajo men. The most impressively dressed, his white hair bound back with a folded blue bandanna, spoke as they entered and gestured for them to sit.

  Taking his place on the floor near the doorway, Logan drew Eden down to sit beside him. "That's Frank Manypersons, the chief singer," he whispered in low tones. "He says we have arrived just in time. The kinaalda is about to make her dawn run. They'll start the singing then, and there will be no one allowed in or out during the singing."

  Just as he finished speaking, Celia rose and moved quickly toward the doorway where she held back the covering blanket, raised her eyes to the east and mumbled a few words, then began to run. As she sped into the gathering light, the children who had gathered on the hillside fell in
behind her with joyful whoops and shouts.

  The singing began then, Frank Manypersons starting with some simple "vocables." He began on a single pitch with "heye, nene, ya-na/" and the other singers, then the rest of the spectators, joined in. As they sang, Eden watched—and counted. She wouldn't have thought the small hogan was big enough to hold so many people, but, emptied of its regular contents, it now made room for fifty-six adults, herself and Logan included, sitting around its perimeter.

  Frank Manypersons led the group in three different ceremonial songs—Logan whispered these were called Hogan Songs, and they recounted the planning and building of the hogan of Changing Woman—then there was a brief break, with much murmuring and quiet talk among the guests, while they waited for the lookout children to shout that the kinaalda was returning. At the shout, Frank Manypersons began the fourth Hogan Song, timing it so it would end just as Celia entered.

  The song finished and everyone rose. The White Dawn was thick around them as the party filed out into the dooryard to begin digging the pit for the 'alkaan. Ella, in her role as "ideal woman," outlined the circle of the pit in the earth some thirty yards from her home and softened the earth with a pickax. Certain of the watchers began helping Ella dig. When Eden asked Logan why he didn't help, he answered he was not permitted to. “Many of us, especially those who build fires at Squaw Dances and the fire dancers who carry torches in the Mountain Chant, cannot come near the fire pit or help with the digging. If we do, the cake may not cook, but will stay all mushy." He grinned. "Or so my grandmother thinks."

  "Is there any reason why I can't dig?" she asked. When Logan answered that he couldn't think of one, Eden said, "Then hand me that shovel," pointing to one a man had dropped nearby. Logan gave it to her and she began to work beside Ella Redhorse, who gave her an odd look, but said nothing, only motioning to her to stack the free earth on the north side of the firepit. Several other women, and a few of the men, joined them.