Kaniya's Vision

By Jack Bessie

The story of a native American woman, college educated, living with her teen daughter Kayah among the whites, homesick for her native life. When she has a vision, which calls her to undertake a difficult and embarrassing ordeal, she finds her and her child’s lives turned upside down. To complicate things more, Kahya falls madly for Tim Howard, a native child being raised by fundamentalist white parents! Tim’s awakening desire to know his native origins, to become a medicine man, clashes with his parents Christian views quite astoundingly.

When Kaniya tries to help Tim learn more about his birth parents, she uncovers an old evil; adoption fraud or worse, which had been hidden for years. Her snooping almost gets her and Kayah killed! Tim fares little better, finding that when the difficulties and rumors start, the Natives come to his aid, and his church brethren abandon him!

All three natives must confront the hard choices; who will you be? Where is your home? How deeply do you believe? Who will you love? And for Kaniya, the hardest question of all; how will obeying her beliefs, obeying the Hopi creator, bring back the two children she gave away when she was a young and foolish girl? A heart warming , convoluted story of life and love.

A powerful story of finding your true place in life, and understanding not just your own needs, but the Great Spirit’s will for your life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jack Bessie
• Release date: Jan 6, 2014
• ISBN: 9781940592022

Jack Bessie

Jack Bessie is a child of the corn belt, who grew up shy and rather isolated, chasing critters and working on the neighbor’s farm. An avid reader from an early age, he was obsessed with learning, especially science. He hated English, which is a superb irony, considering how many millions of words of prose he has written in his later life; it would appear that God does indeed have a fine sense of humor or at least a fondness for satire and irony!Jack’s college experience was fanatical and obsessive, involving ridiculously intense bouts of reading and self motivated study, interspersed with much drinking and the chasing of women. He devoted a large portion of his study to psychology and communications, dropping out without a degree, but with an astoundingly wide and deep education. He also accumulated a pregnant wife along the way. The chasing of women was productive at least!Jack’s work history is as interesting as his college journey. He’s been a hospital orderly, janitor, research assis-tant, draftsman, cook, plumber, electrician, home builder, and master cabinet maker, the trade his father plied. One of the high points of his work life involved being fired from two different but equally lousy jobs in the same day!Jack and his second wife raised five biological chil-dren, and then were crazy enough to adopt six more. He’s never been noted for moderation. They are now content to herd their cats, Beatnik, Funky Kitty, and Lucifer.Honestly, Jack hasn’t gotten any less excessive, as you might notice from reading his writing. His life has given him an endless panoply of things to make fun of and to think deeply about, which he endeavors to share with his readers and fans. The author of ten novels, and a million words of humor and insight, Jack is always writing, and has no plans to ever retire.Jack also designs games, and teaches novel writing, and is once again serving as a judge for the Global eBook awards! There’s no dust on him from sitting around!

Book preview

Jack Bessie is the creator of the website, Jack Bessie’s Duct Tape for the Soul https://www.jackofwords.com It is filled with all sorts of insightful, funny, crazy and profoundly motivating stuff!

In addition, Jack has a Tumblr Blog: Words of Bessie http://jackofwords.tumblr.com/

He’s also on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jackofwords

And on Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/jackbessie/

And he posts short stories free on Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/search/jack%20Bessie

Besides his daily blog posting page that features Bessie-isms and Quoteables, you’ll discover a bunch of other pages filled with crazy and amusing features. And of course, there’s a whole section devoted to all his other books, with links to see samples and to buy them. (Authors are wicked opportunists!)

You’ll also find a Free Book Page where you can get two different free digital copies of his books each month: https://www.jackofwords.com/free-books/

All of his contact info & e-mail addresses etc. are there too He even gives you material in the Archives, for all you over busy or tardy ones. Jack and his staff are a pretty zany bunch, and you should find something that makes you laugh, giggle, cry or want to hang him. Check it out! It’s free, and worthy of being under your favorites!

Come for a nice tour, and a chance to get to know him!

A Thought

The white settlers had no comprehension of the strength and devotion that Native Americans held their native spiritual beliefs with. They saw a primitive people who lacked the white man’s machine technology, and wrote them off as savages, incapable of complex or profound thought. The white man was wrong about this, as he was in fact wrong about most other things. His hubris and arrogance destroyed a people who were spiritually, in many ways, more advanced in their understanding of God or the Great Spirit’s realm.

No place was this more true than in the Native’s ability to be as one with Creation, with the spiritual dictates and perception of the Creator’s truths. The Native had no doubts, no lack of faith, seeing everything around them as a manifestation of the Great Spirit. They had no doubt as to their place within this existence either, which gave them a sureness and confidence second to none.

The Natives, after being vanquished and colonized, have struggled to find their way, forced to live in an increasingly godless world, the legacy of the white man. It is a cruel irony that the settlers did everything they could to devalue and wipe out the Natives religious heritage, wanting to supplant it with their own Christian faith. Now, having done so much to obliterate the native beliefs, the white brother has mostly abandoned any sense of religion, adopting a godless consumerism and mostly ignoring faith, belief and God.

But not all native belief was vanquished; bowed and marginalized; it still exists, and is again growing among the native peoples. This novel is a story of a Hopi woman and her daughter, who never lost their belief, and others, who were lost but ultimately found, returning to faith and family, and an understanding of the Great Spirit. Would you obey a dream, understanding it as a vision from the divine, calling you to do something terrifying and risky? Then maybe your faith needs some help too?

Jack

1

Kaniya turned slightly, deep in her sleep, moving the sheet incrementally against her bare skin. She had gone to bed early, having spent the day moving into her new rental house; too tired to set up either her bed or her daughter’s; she had merely put sheets on the bare mattresses on the floor. Now, utterly limp and relaxed, lying on her side, embracing an extra pillow, she moved further into her dream state.

Kaniya, a Native American woman of thirty seven, a member of the Hopi Tribe, had experienced this dream before. Strong and powerful, it had come upon her, filled with Native ritual and symbolism. She had viewed it as perhaps a subconscious yearning to return to life among her tribe; she had lived away from the reservation many years, among the white people. She was employed by the Bureau of Indian Affairs, and had moved several times, working with various other tribal groups.

Perhaps, she thought, at times considering her dreams, I miss my people, my own tribe. She found the tendency of the whites to regard all Indians, all Natives as the same, both ironic and maddening. We are all so unique, so different, she had observed, yet the whites saw none of this, none of the distinctions of tribal culture and history. Certainly a Cree and a Cherokee had more in common with each other than they did with the white race, with white culture, but they were still vastly different.

As she entered more deeply into this dream, it moved as it had before, on the Hopi reservation, on a day of celebration. Kaniya wandered, in her dream, among her people, first as a young girl, then, as the dream progressed, she seemed to age, becoming as she had been as a teen, then as a girl in her twenties. Within the world of her dream, this caused no questioning, no sense of strangeness. The time passed, with feasting and a great feeling of warmth and belonging. As time progressed and dusk began to gather, the men prepared several fires, to light an area where the medicine man and others would dance to summon the spirits.

Kaniya had been mesmerized as a young girl by these ceremonies, being touched profoundly by the rituals and the ancientness of them. Her father had taught her and her siblings the meanings of each dance, each part of the ceremonies. She had learned the way of her people’s beliefs and the depth of their spiritual understanding. Now, dreaming of this, she again, deep in her dream state, experienced the feeling of awe, the wonder of taking part in something so ancient and grand and of belonging to something almost beyond her ability to understand.

During the other repetitions of this dream, she had awoken during the dancing, returning to consciousness to the memory of the chanting and the drums. This time, perhaps because of her fatigue, she moved on further into the dream. She stood in the circle with her fellow tribesmen, clapping and stamping her feet to the drums, as the medicine man danced, allowing the spirits to move him. Kaniya watched him, moved by the dance, as the medicine man moved rapidly to and fro. She was shocked when, swooping close to her, he suddenly reached out, grabbing her wrist with his hand, and pulled her toward the center of the circle, backing away with her in tow.

In the middle of the ring of people, he commanded her to stay, and began dancing around her, ever more franticly. Kaniya was utterly perplexed, unable to guess what he might be intending. She felt intensely self-conscious to be in such a place, to have everyone watching her. When the medicine man suddenly stopped in front of her, his feather clad arms outstretched, the drums ceased also and the crowd also stopped chanting, leaving utter silence, waiting to hear his words.

The medicine man spoke loudly, so that all could hear. The Great Spirit spoke to the Hopi Nation and gave us great Prophecy, but none has come forth to make the Prophecy real. Kaniya, a true daughter of our people shall lay with a young brave of our people and she shall conceive a child. This child is the one whom we wait for, the one who will fulfill the Prophecy, the medicine man spoke.

Kaniya was shocked by this pronouncement and turned to flee, but her people had moved in close, trapping her. She felt a hand grasp her arm, turning her and discovered her father confronting her. Kaniya…daughter! Hear me! Your people need you, need you to obey, to do what is needed.

But…I know no one…who will…how will I find him? she asked, her heart terrified by this responsibility. Her father pointed at a tee pee past the crowd. She could see someone standing, a man in tribal paint and dress. Kaniya felt herself drawn by unseen forces, touched by the mystic powers of the spirits. She began moving toward this one, her steps tentative, and the people drew back, clearing the way for her. She stepped up to him, was surprised to realize that he was quite young, perhaps only fifteen or sixteen, strong and lith.

Kaniya realized suddenly that she was her waking age and was utterly at a loss for words. Standing awkwardly, like a girl of twelve summers, she finally managed to say, I am Kaniya.

The young man reached out, gently took her wrist, said, I am Hania, the Spirit Warrior. Come. He tugged gently on her wrist, and led her around the Tee pee to the doorway and guided her inside, letting the door flap fall shut behind him. Kaniya stood, in the darkness, her senses alive for the least hints. She felt her Native dress being raised up, worked over her head and removed, leaving her standing bare. She heard the one who had named himself Hania removing his garments, felt him reach for her in the dark and pull her to him, embracing her.

He kissed her intently, caressing her skin. Kaniya felt his erect maleness pressing against her belly, suddenly felt herself on fire with desire, her urge to be had burningly intense. The young warrior pushed her down onto a pile of blankets and soft furs, continuing to touch her. He touched her soft femaleness, felt her wetness. Her desire consuming her, the need to give herself to this mysterious lover overwhelming her, she spread her legs, eagerly inviting him to have her. As she felt him slip into her, she moaned from the pleasure and suddenly found herself semi-conscious in her bed, alone in the dark, her moaning in her sleep from the intensity of her dream having woken her.

Kaniya lay still, her pulse racing, overcome by the erotic images and sexual nature of the dream. Oh my God, she whispered, the sudden ending of her dream leaving her intensely aroused and frustrated as well as embarrassed. She finally sighed and sat up, realizing she needed to use the bathroom. When she had done so, she quietly moved through the piles of boxes to the kitchen to get a drink. She took her drink back to the bedroom, but instead of returning to bed, she found her robe and donning it, she went to the front door and quietly opened it, slipping out onto the porch. She sat on an old lawn chair to sip her drink and mull over her dream.

Kaniya found several things about the dream disturbing or at least odd. The erotic aspects did not really surprise her. She had not had sex with anyone for almost a year, and between her job and packing for this move, she had neglected to even pleasure herself, falling asleep before she had managed to even halfway fantasize or arouse herself. At her age, she knew she was not addressing her sexual urges adequately, and clearly her dream reflected that.

She was amused, somewhat, as well as puzzled by the existence of the tee pee in her dream. The Hopis had never lived in them, not in thousands of years. They were a pueblo people, living high on the mesas, building stone houses, some of which had been occupied for millennia. Maybe I’ve watched too many bad westerns over the years, she thought, with a touch of annoyance.

She found the appearance of her father in the dream much more surprising and strange. She had lost him when she was barely twenty and had dreamed of him many times. But always he had appeared as she remembered him when he was alive. Tonight he had appeared as an older man, as he would be if he were still alive. Had he reached out from the spirit world to speak to me? she wondered, shivering at the thought. Somehow she understood that she had seen him in the dream exactly as he would be for his age. How could I know that? she wondered, perplexed. She shook her head, fascinated by this also.

She next considered the Hopi Prophecies. I haven’t thought about them since I read them when I was in…high school? she considered. Why would she dream of them now? What did this mean? She tried to remember all of the prophecy, was not sure how this dream could fit with them.

Kaniya believed deeply and wholeheartedly in a very rich and complex spiritual world, a world of spirits and forces beyond what her normal senses could detect or be aware of. Was this a vision? Am I really being called on to fulfill something deep and spiritual? Do I have something to do for my people?

Kaniya believed completely in visions, had seen others experience them, be profoundly moved and touched by them. The fact that in thirty seven years she had not experienced one did nothing to diminish her faith, her understanding of them. Part of her felt an almost childlike excitement; perhaps at last it was her turn to experience this sacred thing, to be touched by Taiowa, the Hopi creator, directly.

She suddenly froze, sat almost paralyzed, her fingers pressed tightly against her mouth and chin. Her excitement was tempered by the knowledge that the visions could call one to undertake dangerous, even fatally heroic tasks. She shivered as though chilled, in spite of the summer night’s heat.

She forced herself to relax, breathing out a deep sigh. She sat quietly, listening to the night sounds, the distant sound of a siren, watching a cat stealthily moving from shadow to shadow. You certainly need a decent fuck! she whispered, chiding herself for the intense eroticism of the dream. Kaniya hugged herself tightly and sighed, knowing that if the dream had some deep spiritual meaning, it would be revealed in time. The spirit world moved at its own pace and certainly she was not capable of hurrying it along; a lesson she had been forced to learn painfully while growing up.

She stood and moved inside, softly closing the door, not wanting to wake her daughter Kayah. In her room, she removed her robe, tossed it on a stack of boxes. She lay down on her mattress, pulled up her sheet. Again she considered her dream; the intensity of the desire she had experienced was shocking. Will I dream of it again? she wondered, knowing that she was eager to experience it anew. She considered this as she ran her hands over her breasts.

Suddenly she was struck by a supremely embarrassing thought. I dreamed I was my real age and I had sex with a young man, one young enough to be my son! Oh! That’s… that would make me…a child molester! Kaniya lay in the dark, shocked by this naughty consideration. Thank the spirits it was only a dream! Her relief was brief however, as she suddenly realized that if a situation like the one in her dream was to present itself, she would not say no.

Kaniya lay quietly, considering this fact, disturbed by it, yet understanding its truth. She touched herself intimately, finding that she was very wet. I wonder if I can stay awake long enough to get off? she thought, smiling slightly, knowing this was what she really needed.

2

Kayah awoke Sunday morning greatly rested, but not looking forward to having to put the new house in order. She went first to the bathroom, and then rummaged for something to wear that would be good both for the heat and the work, settling on an old pair of athletic shorts and a sports bra top. She found the box that contained her hair brush, and spent several minutes brushing out her long black hair, finally gathering it into a loose pony tail and tying it back with a thin cloth band.

She wandered into the kitchen and rummaged until she found a box of cereal and a bowl and spoon to eat it with. They had gone to the store before going to bed, to get milk, eggs and other items that had not made the long, two day trip from South Carolina. Kayah glanced at the small table, buried under boxes of kitchen supplies and equipment, decided to eat her cereal standing at the counter where she could look out the kitchen window over the sink, gazing into the tiny back yard.

She ate with her left hand, as always, having long since gotten used to being different and oddly handed. She absent mindedly scratched her butt with her right hand, in response to a stray itch. She laid her spoon down, in her bowl, slipped both of her hands into the back of her shorts, first adjusting her panties, then feeling the rounded, taught curve of her rear.

Kayah had run on the girl’s cross country team in junior high school, and had fallen in love with running. She now ran three or four times each week, delighted by the effect on her lithe legs and more than pleased at what it did for her bottom. She gave her butt a squeeze and patted it, enjoying its tight bounciness. She was eager to run again, having missed the last four days with the packing and moving. There’ll be no chance of running today, either! she though, considering the house, each room a jumble of furniture and boxes.

Kayah finished her cereal, and carefully rinsed out her bowl and spoon, sitting them out of the way. She decided to unpack some of the kitchen items, trying to clear off the table. She worked carefully, not wanting to make a lot of noise and wake her mother. She had heard Kaniya go outside in the night and was concerned that something had disturbed her mother’s sleep.

Kayah had worked an hour when her mother appeared, wearing a lightweight, long cotton Native dress, barefoot with her hair tossed behind her.

You’ve been busy! Kaniya said to her daughter, grateful that she had a child who was so helpful and eager to do necessary things. They had existed, only the two of them together, since Kayah’s father had been killed in an accident when Kayah was three. Kaniya had found the will to move to a city and had gone to college, before becoming an agent for the government when she graduated.

"I didn’t want to wake you. You were up in the night…weren’t you? Kayah asked.

Kaniya looked startled a moment, remembering her dream again, and nodded, as she began working to make herself some tea.

"I…had…the strangest dream," she said after a pause, putting water on the stove to heat.

Kayah continued unpacking, waiting patiently for her mother to continue. She had learned as a young girl not to push, to allow someone to sort out their thoughts and speak as they were comfortable, a Native trait she seldom saw among the whites or her school friends. All of them were always in such a hurry! she thought, sadly, amused at how people wanted to run through life. Finally, Kaniya began, explaining first the part of the dream she had experienced before. When she was finished with this part, she paused and looked at Kayah.

What do you think of that? she asked softly.

By this time, Kayah had cleared off the table, allowing her mother to sit with her cup of tea and a bowl of cereal. Kayah stepped close, standing beside her mother. She leaned down, pressing her face against the side of her mother’s neck.

My mother is homesick…she misses our people and her old life, Kayah said gently, kissing her mother’s neck.

Kaniya tensed, shocked by the perceptiveness of her child’s observation. She finally let out her breath in a long sigh.

We named you well, she said to Kayah, the young girl’s name meaning Wise Child to the Hopi. You’re right…I miss them terribly at times, she added sadly.

What about the new part…of the dream? Kayah asked, her curiosity making her pushy.

It…was strange, Kaniya began then sat a few moments before plunging into her recitation. When she began again, she had little trouble going through all of the detail of it, its images etched deeply in her memory. Kayah had pulled up a chair, sat close where she could listen and observe her mother, the words of the medicine man capturing her attention profoundly. Kaniya, who was quite open with her daughter about all female and sexual matters, felt no embarrassment describing her desire, her giving of herself to the strange young brave.

Kayah sat waiting, when her mother was finished, watching her staring unfocused into space, knowing she was seeing images and replaying the dream. Finally, Kaniya shifted slightly, looked at Kayah and asked, Well, what do you think of that?

Kayah, who had been taught the spiritual understanding and beliefs of the Hopis was awed by this.

That was no ordinary dream…unless you’re so… horny you can’t stand it! Kayah declared.

Kaniya looked slightly guilty. I have been neglecting…you know what… she said and grinned. I’ve been busy.

"Mother! You remember what you taught me? That’s no excuse! You said it was my responsibility to take care of myself…to pleasure myself so I wouldn’t be all mean or bitchy or crazy acting around boys. My mother needs to listen to her own advice. Do I need to send you to your room to go play with yourself?" Kayah asked playfully, delighted at this role reversal.

I did it twice last night when I went back to bed! Kaniya replied, defensively, slightly embarrassed at being in this position.

Good! Kayah declared.

I suppose you’re playing with yours on a regular basis? Kaniya asked, slightly miffed.

"All the time…you couldn’t live with me if I didn’t…actually…I couldn’t live with myself. You don’t want me to let anyone else play with it…do you? I am almost fifteen." She added this last observation somewhat plaintively.

Kaniya patted her daughter’s cheek. Let’s have this conversation next summer and we’ll see…when you’re almost sixteen!

Kayah nodded, knowing her mother was right. She thought of a question, considered whether it was wise to ask it.

Mom? she began, tentatively.

Yes, Kayah?

Do you think that was a vision that you had? she asked.

Kaniya sat, sipping her tea. I…don’t know, she finally said.

If it is, will you…really do it? Kayah asked, understanding what the dream or vision seemed to demand of her mother.

I’d…have to…have sex…with someone young… someone I hardly know…be pregnant at my age…raise a child…your sibling would be fourteen years younger than you… Kaniya fell silent, considering all of the complications this would entail. She shook her head slightly, overwhelmed by the thought of such an ordeal.

Kayah, having been taught the significance of visions, of dreams to the Native peoples, understanding the place they held in all Native beliefs and especially in the Hopi’s view of themselves, was awed at the possibility of this being laid on her mother. She wanted to ask a question, but hesitated, not wanting to upset her mother.

Kaniya saw her daughter’s attempt to speak, her hesitation. Go on…say it, she said softly.

Kayah nodded slightly, took a deep breath and whispered, If that was a vision…how can you say no…refuse it?

Kaniya looked stricken for a second, and then looked down at her lap, her fingers nervously playing with themselves. Her eyes filled with tears, which spilled down her cheeks.

Kayah felt guilty for causing this sudden anxiety, said, I’m sorry! urgently wanting to sooth her mother’s feelings.

Suddenly, Kaniya embraced her daughter, pulling her close. It’s okay…you are right…if it’s a vision, I’ll have no choice but to do what I must. I need to speak to our medicine man…see what he has to say about this. I need to see if I have it again. If it happens again…when I’m not so…horny…I’ll be more concerned, she said and laughed.

Kaniya got up to help deal with the kitchen and Kayah continued to help her. Kaniya, at one point asked Kayah, Do you have naughty, sexy dreams?

Kayah glanced down momentarily, feeling her face grow warm from blood rushing to it.

Yes…all the time! she finally admitted.

What are they like, Kaniya asked, curious.

Kayah was thoughtful a moment, then said, Mostly they involve me being nude…taking off my clothes… in front of someone…or having my clothes removed by someone. Being kissed or touched…

You never have sex? Kaniya asked, teasingly.

"Mother, how would I know how to do that?" Kayah asked pointedly.

Maybe by peeking when your mother was having sex with her boyfriend a couple of years ago, Kaniya suggested, sweetly.

It was a lot longer ago than tha… Kayah began indignantly then realized she had walked straight into her mother’s trap. Kayah blushed so intensely even her Native skin color couldn’t hide it.

"Now, my naughty daughter, we know you’ve seen it done, I’m just curious why you don’t ever dream of it."

Kayah was still trying to recover from her embarrassment about having spied on her mother’s frankly unreserved sexual behavior. She had sat down with her head in her hands, now had to answer her mother’s question.

I…I…never get to the sex in…my dreams. I get so…aroused…turned on by the touching and being bare…I wake up…and play with myself! she finally managed to say and was both mortified and chagrinned to have her mother’s hearty laughter greet her confession.

My poor daughter! Kaniya said, coming to hug her. You’ve got the same problem I had when I was a girl, the same big urges I had. I just hope yours don’t get you in as much trouble as mine did!

This made Kayah extremely curious, but before she could ask, her mother placed her finger on the young woman’s lips and said, Not now…we’ve got work to do!

3

Tim Howard had begun his day Sunday as usual, getting up at eight AM to get ready for Sunday school and church. This ritual had existed before his adoption, when he was only three months old, and it formed the structure around which his family built their weekly routine. At fifteen, Tim had well mastered the activities and ceremony of his church, being involved in its youth group, as well as having progressed in scouting as a member of the troop that the church sponsored.

Sitting through the final minutes of the sermon found him eager to get to the end. This was partly because the church’s air conditioning seemed to be once again faltering, unable to keep up with the Oklahoma heat in late June. Tim was exceedingly glad he had not worn a sport coat; his dress shirt and tie were oppressive enough, and he could feel sweat trickling down his sides.

Maybe God wants to give some of our resident sinners a foretaste of life after judgment day, Tim thought wryly. Tim found some of the parishioners views of God’s tireless desire to hand out forgiveness to any and for all things to be suspect at best. Surely, He must draw the line somewhere? Tim had considered. Why else should you try to learn and grow, become a better person if God would give you a free pass on any behavior? Where would that lead?

He shook his head. In truth, today he was little concerned about the weighty subjects of heaven or hell. He was eager to get home and change, to have lunch and go see about the new people that had moved into his neighborhood, a block over from his house. His friend Lou had called him late last night with the news. Tim was eager to extend the hand of Christian fellowship and to be of assistance to the new people, either with moving things or in providing information to them about the town, especially if they were from out of the area. His friend had said that a moving van had delivered the belongings and this seemed likely.

Tim smiled faintly, as he headed out of the church, the service thankfully over. He had an ulterior motive for wanting to get there as soon as possible, actually two of them. One was the fact that Tim mowed several lawns in his area, and the prospect of finding another one close at hand was good; Tim was working diligently to save money for both a car and for college. The other motive was more problematic and less divine; Lou had said he thought he had seen a very pretty teenage girl at the house. Tim, who considered himself shy around girls, was eager to beat out any competition and see her first.

When Tim and his family reached their house, Tim quickly disappeared to change, returning to help his mother and sister with lunch. His eagerness to move the activity along caught his father’s eye, and he could not resist commenting. You’re sure in a hurry for a change…where’s the fire, son?

Tim managed a grin, knowing that he would not be able to evade his father’s curiosity.

Someone moved in to the brown house on Meadow Street yesterday. I wanted to go welcome them and see if they could use a hand. He replied.

Tim’s father nodded, then said, You know this is supposed to be a day of rest…you wouldn’t be planning to do business today, by chance, would you?

Tim shrugged, smiling. I was inclined to mention that I mow lawns, just not on Sundays, he said and winked.

Oh, I see, his father replied. Well, you might want to keep your mind on God somewhat, this being Sunday. Why don’t you at least invite them to come visit our church? At least you’ll find out if they’re a bunch of Godless atheists and we can pray for them!

Tim nodded, knowing it would be pointless to argue. His father, Curt, at forty, had been a Sunday school teacher for years, had worked with the youth group almost since he had been a youth. He, like his wife Judith, had been raised in the church, and was devoted to it, a condition he was trying to instill in both Tim and his sister Annie, with mixed results.

Tim was pleased and relieved that nothing further occurred to his father to justify continuing an inquisition. Tim was especially glad that he had not mentioned the possibility that there might be a girl at his destination; his parents, especially his father, and their church viewed every possible meeting between teenage boys and girls as a potential opportunity for improper, ungodly thoughts and actions.

Tim smiled at this, as he walked toward his destination. The church’s views on sexual lust put it at extreme odds with what most of its young people were eagerly interested in. If God was so against sex, why do we have such terrible urges for it? Tim wondered, knowing how intense the desire could be. He shook his head slightly and shrugged. If all of this lust and temptation is the devil’s work, he’s doing quite a job! Tim thought ruefully, well aware that all of his friends were as obsessed by it as he was.

Tim turned the final corner, went to the fourth dwelling. The brown house was called that because of the dark brown wood siding on it, the only one in the neighborhood like it, where all the others were clad in vinyl siding or stucco.. He walked up, climbing the steps and crossed the small front porch and pressed the bell, before noticing a small piece of paper taped to the wall next to it. Bell doesn’t work-knock, the sign said, and Tim dutifully knocked loudly on the storm door.

Tim surveyed the small front yard while he waited, noted that the rental company that owned the house had done a minimal job of keeping up the lawn. The last tenants had moved in May, when school had ended and it had been empty since. I can clean it up, make it look nice, Tim thought, confident in his ability. He heard voices from inside, turned back to the door as the main, inner door was opened.

Tim confronted a young woman, petite and slender, very athletic looking. She was wearing an old pair of gym shorts and a red sports bra, which showed off her modest and firm breasts. Tim was rendered speechless by the intensity of her dark, jet black eyes, and he noted, vaguely, that she had long black hair, pulled loosely into a ponytail. She was clearly sweaty and breathing hard, apparently from some exertion. They stood appraising each other for a few short moments, until the girl grinned hugely, her eyes sparkling, and she said, May I help you?

Tim suddenly realized he was staring with his mouth open, and feeling like an idiot, he struggled to pull himself together, having been utterly captivated by the girl’s beauty. Uh…I…hi…I’m Tim…Tim Howard. I live over a street… he gestured in the general direction of his house. Could I speak to your mom or dad? he managed to say.

The girl, who had looked him over thoroughly, replied, I’m Kayah…you can talk to my mom. Come in please. She motioned for him to step inside and moved back to allow him in.

Mom! Kayah yelled, Someone’s here! she called loudly, and shortly Kaniya entered the room, navigating through the piles of boxes.

Tim was suddenly confronted by an older version of Kayah, a woman a tiny bit shorter than her daughter, but with the same jet black hair and eyes and strikingly similar facial features. Tim was struck by how similar and pretty both mother and daughter were.

After introductions had been made, Tim made his pitch. I came over to say hello and see if you could use some help. I also wanted to tell you that I mow lawns…I could keep yours mowed too!

What do you charge? Kaniya asked.

Tim replied, I’d have to do some extra work to get it cleaned up the first time…say, thirty dollars, then fifteen each week to mow it.

Kaniya smiled. That’s fine…I didn’t want to have to buy a mower or listen to my princess complain about mowing, she smiled, nodding toward Kayah.

Mother! Kayah responded indignantly, You’ll make Tim think I’m spoiled or lazy!

Kaniya patted her daughters arm. She’s neither… she just hates sweating…unless she’s running! she added and winked at Tim.

Kaniya and Kayah were delighted to have Tim help, and he worked, first getting furniture placed then moving boxes to where they could be easily unpacked later.

After a couple of hours, Kaniya fixed them all cold drinks, and they sat on chairs around the small kitchen table to rest. Kayah had kept Tim busy answering questions about the town and school, trying to get a feel for what would confront her in the fall at a new school.

Tim had discovered Kayah’s apprehension about moving, which had been necessitated by her mother’s job. Tim had worked diligently to find out everything he could about Kayah, including her age and interests. He had noted that she seemed as snoopy about him as he felt about her, which lessened his nervousness substantially; Tim had never before found it so easy to talk to a young woman, especially one so attractive.

Tim had managed to ask which tribe Kayah and her mother belonged to, being curious. Their town had a substantial population of Cherokees, descendents of the forced resettlement long past; it was this group that Kaniya had come to serve.

Kayah glanced at her mother, who nodded slightly, then answered him simply, We are Hopis. It was her next question that Tim was not prepared for.

What tribe do you belong to? Kayah asked, intent and sincere, with no trace of sarcasm or disingenuousness.

Oh…I’m not…I don’t belong to any tribe…why do you ask that? he replied, clearly astounded by the question.

Kayah suddenly looked lost and uncomfortable, clearly awkward, terrified that she had stuck her foot in her mouth. She glanced at her mother, desperately seeking help.

Kaniya looked at Tim and smiled slightly. "Kayah assumed you’re Native. You look clearly Native…what are we missing?" she asked kindly of Tim, curious as to what he would answer.

Oh! he suddenly said. I was adopted when I was an infant.

By Native people? Kaniya asked.

No…my parents are white, so is my sister…she was adopted when she was a baby too. Tim explained.

Interesting…do you know where you were adopted…was it here? Kaniya asked, curious.

I suppose…my mom and dad are both from here…they grew up here. I know they were married in the church where we go…why? he asked.

Kaniya forced a smile. Curious…and nosey. You’re clearly a full blooded Native…you have noticed that?

Tim shrugged, "Yeah, I know I look Indian…Native," he quickly corrected, knowing the Native peoples had a certain distaste for the term Indian, but in my life…it has no meaning.

They went back to work then, Tim helping Kayah whenever he could, clearly eager to be near her, a fact not lost on either Kayah or her mother. When Tim discovered that it was nearly four thirty, he realized he was in danger of being late getting ready for evening church service. He hastily explained his dilemma and need to depart, promising to come back tomorrow to do the lawn and to help more. He was going out the door when he remembered to invite them to come to church.

Kayah said nothing, and Kaniya politely thanked him for the invitation. We’ll talk about spiritual things later, when you aren’t rushed. Thank you for coming and for your help. We’ll see you tomorrow! and as Tim turned away, waving, preparing to jog home, he saw Kayah waving at him also, smiling radiantly.

4

Tim jogged back home in a hurry, but hating to work up a sweat. He came loping up the walk and steps, hastily opened the door and was hoping to make it to his room unnoticed, but his father heard him and called.

About time you got back…we need to leave in fifteen minutes…they’re having a pot-luck supper at church tonight…in case you’ve forgotten! Curt yelled loudly, clearly displeased.

I’ll be ready! Tim replied and hustled off to grab his stuff and head to the bathroom for a quick shower.

Tim wasted no time, not even waiting for the water to warm; the cold felt wonderful after his jog home. He gave himself a brief rinse, dried quickly and, wrapped in his towel, went to his room to get dressed. He tossed on his clothes from the morning, and reluctantly added a tie to his dress shirt. It was while adjusting his tie, then running a brush through his hair that he actually focused on his features for a moment. He noticed the set of his cheeks, the jet black color of his eyes and hair. I look much like Kayah and her mother, he thought, suddenly noticing himself in a different light.

We’re leaving! he heard his father yell, and he shrugged, turning to leave, turning out his room light and opening the door.

I’m ready, he called, hurrying outside. He helped place their family’s contributions for the pot luck in the back of the vehicle, then climbed in.

On the short drive to the church, Tim’s father asked, Well, you were gone all afternoon…I assume you got on with the new people?

Tim grinned. Yes, It’s a Native woman and her young daughter…she transferred here with Indian Affairs. They’re nice people and I helped move furniture and boxes all afternoon. I’m beat. Oh…I’m going to do her lawn each week too, he added.

Did you mention church? Some of the Indians are Christian and some aren’t, Tim’s father commented.

Yes, I did invite them…Kaniya…that’s the lady’s name…she said she’d talk to me when we have more time…it was late by the time I remembered to mention it. I was running a little late, Tim replied.

We noticed, Curt remarked. How old is her daughter…and where’s the father? Curt asked. Did she mention?

Tim, who had deliberately referred to Kayah as a young girl, not inclined to mention yet how close in age to him she was, furrowed his brows and looked thoughtful.

Hmmmmm… he began, I’m not exactly sure how old the girl is…Kaniya did say that her husband…the father was killed in an accident when the little girl was three. She doesn’t remember her dad…

That’s so sad! Tim’s mother Judith interjected.

Further discussion was avoided by the fact of their arrival at the church.

Tim helped some of the other young men set up tables and chairs, and when most of the people who were expected had arrived, Pastor Rick blessed the meal and everyone lined up to eat. Tim, as usual ate with a group of his friends, and he had no time to consider his afternoon.

It was later, while a guest speaker was giving a talk and presentation on church mission activities, that Tim was able to let his mind wander and think about his time with Kayah and her mother. Tim had experienced a twinge of guilt when he had misled his father about Kayah’s age. While it was technically correct that he did not know her date of birth and hence her precise age, he knew that God would find that a flimsy excuse…splitting hairs with God was how Pastor Rick referred to such disingenuous evasions. Yet Tim knew that his efforts to spend time with Kayah would be severely hampered if his parents had any idea that she was so close to his age. He also knew that one look at her would cause problems, especially if she was dressed as she had been today.

Tim sat quietly, visualizing Kayah. He had found her to be irresistibly gorgeous and desirable, but it wasn’t just her physical charms that attracted him. Oh certainly, she was well built…her sport bra had nicely displayed her modest, perky breasts and when she had bent over frequently to pick up things, Tim had found it difficult to not lose his place while talking; her bottom was delightful and hard to avoid staring at.

Kayah was athletic and sexy, but many girls at school had even sexier charms, yet he had not felt attracted to them. He sat, wrestling with this. Suddenly, he understood the difference; Kayah’s sparkling and expressive eyes, her mouth, which could seem pouty one second and then burst into the most radiant smile the next, these displayed such an irresistible zest and liveliness that Tim wanted nothing so much as to see her. She is bursting with life! he realized.

Wow! Tim thought, understanding his feelings. I’m crazy for her, wanting utterly to be near her, to see her, to touch her. Tim had experienced having a crush on a girl before, but the intensity of this dwarfed his previous feelings. I want her more than anything, he suddenly knew, the idea of somehow not being able to make her his seeming worst to consider than dying.

When the presentation was finished, the Pastor offered up a closing prayer. Tim silently added his own requests for God’s consideration; a plea for forgiveness for his misdirection about Kayah’s age, and the most fervent prayer that God had brought her so near, so close, so that Tim could have her be his girl. I’m willing to do anything you ask of me! Tim prayed, nervous that God might take him up on the offer, with God only knew what consequences.

Tim was quiet on the drive home, a condition he blamed on being tired when his father questioned him about it. Back home, Tim shed his tie before joining his family for ice cream.

What all do you have to do tomorrow? his father asked Tim.

Tim considered a moment, counting on his fingers, then spoke. I’ve got four lawns to mow, then I’m going to the brown house…to clean up that yard and mow it properly. I’ll see if there’s anything else I can do for them while I’m there, he added.

Don’t forget to mow our lawn sometime this week. If it keeps getting hotter, you won’t be mowing as often, especially if it gets dry.

Tim took his leave then, to go call his friend Lou and thank him for telling him about the new people.

So…you got the lawn? Awesome! Say…was I right about the girl? Lou asked, curious.

Tim rolled his eyes heavenward and winked, as if in apology to God, and said, She’s cute…but young…don’t waste your time…you don’t want to be considered a child molester…do you?

Lou sighed, disappointed and moved on to other topics, having no idea Tim was grinning hugely at his slight of hand.

When he had hung up, Tim was still grinning, knowing not just Lou but every other guy would be eager to meet a cute girl like Kayah. I need to make hay while the sun shines, he thought, determined to stake his claim, using everything in his power.

He went to the kitchen for a drink, said goodnight to his mother, discovering that his father had just gone to bed. He started back toward his room, then hesitated, suddenly going into the family room to the computer. Tim set his glass down, logged on and ran a search for Hopi Indians. He was quickly confronted by thousands of pages of information on the Hopis, their history, rituals, beliefs, etc. He picked an interesting looking one, clicked on it, and was soon confronted by a topic by topic outline about them.

Tim started reading. He was an excellent student, a fluent and fast reader. He had no trouble moving quickly, flowing through the various topics. The customs and beliefs seemed odd to him, far removed from his life, his existence. He realized quickly that Kayah and her mother, though living and moving easily among white society, actually belonged to something ancient and different from everything he knew. They belonged to a world he knew nothing about and understood even less.

He sent the computer back to the home page, went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. When he was done, he went to his room, removed his clothes, tossing them in his laundry basket. He put on a pair of old boxers to sleep in, looked at himself in the mirror, considering his appearance.

He turned out his light, turned down his bed and sat down, cross legged, his mind deep in thought. Tim struggled to put his mental finger on what exactly was bothering him. Certainly, the idea that he was so intensely attracted to Kayah, yet had no knowledge or real understanding of her bothered him, giving him a terrible feeling of vulnerability. She is not like me, he seemed to realize, yet he only had to look in the mirror to see how much like her he appeared to be. He considered his life, which had been good; he had never lacked, his parents loved him as did his sister.

It took him a while, sitting in the dark, contemplating, before he understood it well enough to name it, this new thing that had disturbed his existence. I am a child of Native peoples, he realized finally, his appearance clearly attesting to this inarguable fact, but I know nothing of my heritage, my ancestry, my people…I have no idea who I am! he thought, surprised by this idea. I have been denied myself, not for meanness or spite, not because of bad intent, but simply because of the circumstances of my life. Tim found this profoundly disturbing and strange.

He finally shrugged, resolved to consider this more deeply. He lay down, thought of Kayah. He pictured how she would look, bare, kneeling on a Native blanket. The image was beautiful and erotic. Thinking of her thus incited a wave of lust and desire. Tim sighed, remembering the old wives tale about masturbation and hair growing on one’s palm. I may have to shave my hand! he thought forlornly, knowing he was not going to be able to resist thinking of Kayah or the urges she was causing him.

5

After Tim’s departure, Kaniya and Kayah continued unpacking, each concentrating on her own bedroom, getting clothes and personal effects put up. By the time they were both finished with this, they decided to go for a drive, both to explore a bit and to get something for dinner. They located and drove by Kayah’s new high school as well as a park that was close to their house. After an hour of driving, they stopped and picked up some carryout food and headed home.

They ate quietly, both tired from their day’s labor. Kaniya observed her daughter, who sat, absentmindedly drinking her beverage, while staring out the window.

You look like a lovesick cow! Kaniya declared suddenly.

What? Mother! Why do you say that? Kayah asked, her reverie broken.

You’re daydreaming about Tim! Kaniya said firmly, grinning as she watched her daughter shift and look down guiltily.

Kayah finally managed to look up, hesitantly, and say, "Well…he is cute," still acting as if she’d been caught with her hand up to the elbow in the cookie jar.

Kayah finally managed to grin, I was so embarrassed…I had on these old shorts and…this top! He probably thought I was some bum! I was all sweaty and I don’t think I smelled very good…I didn’t even have my legs shaved! Why did he have to show up with me like…like...this! she ended indignantly, clearly upset and worried.

Kaniya leaned on the table top, reached over and patted Kayah’s leg affectionately. Can I give you some girl advice? she asked gently.

Kayah, fighting tears, merely nodded.

Kaniya smiled, remembering all of her own insecurities and worries, about her appearance, about how she looked to boys when she was a young girl.

Sweetheart, you could not have made him be more interested if you had been naked! Kaniya said simply.

What?! Kayah declared, her mouth open, shocked.

Kaniya motioned for Kayah to come and sit on her knees.

When Kayah was so sitting, Kaniya spoke. I watched you two today. Your young friend is utterly taken with you. Yes, your top displayed your boobies quite nicely and he plainly admired them…you couldn’t miss that. He talked to them a lot! But every time you bent over, he watched your bottom too. I’m sure you know that too, you made a point of bending over frequently!

Mother! Kayah sighed, defensively.

Kaniya smacked Kayah’s bottom playfully. "Don’t mother me! I have eyes. You displayed yourself all afternoon…and Tim found you irresistible. You feel the same about him…don’t you?"

Kayah merely nodded, sitting, staring