All of Me

All of Me

By

Eileen Charbonneau

CHAPTER 1

Summer, 1943

Riordan Station, Arizona

Luke Kayenta checked the delicate gardenia nestled between two rapidly warming bottles of Pepsi Cola. Maybe it was foolish to bring the flower, given the train’s tendency to be late in wartime. But it had called out to him. “I am for her, for the one you left in those other canyons, the one you still see,” it had said.

He saw Kitty Charante in her city’s canyons every day, and sometimes deep in the night. He saw her while waiting for mail deliveries. And he’d caught the scent of her fingers, past all the others that had handled the letters between New York and the small Dinètah trading post.

The women teased him about the corner of the hogan where he kept the small stack of books Kitty had sent, and the photographs, drawings and gifts from her family. His shrine, they’d called it. Did their teasing signal approval of the correspondence across their cultures?

His nephews’ laughter plagued him too, even as they accepted the gifts of baseball cards and marbles from Matty and Dom, their counterparts in Kitty’s world. Perhaps the children should have come here, now, with him. She was so used to family all around her.

Where was the train? He stood, began pacing, a bad habit he’d picked up from the belegaana.

A Hopi woman who had been scowling at him since he’d first arrived to share the patch of shade the small station’s porch afforded now smiled. “She’s coming,” she said, in English, their common language.

Luke caught the vibration she’d already felt under his own boots. “You are right, Grandmother,” he said in the best Hopi he could manage.

She grinned, her eyes disappearing in the squint. “Come, lovesick newcomer,” she said, “help these old bones to rise.”

He gave her his arm, grateful she had used one of the less pejorative terms her people had for his--newcomer. As for the lovesick, that was merely a statement of fact.

* * *

Kitty saw him from the window as the train slowed. Through the shimmering heat, he stood in full dress uniform, with every button fastened, gleaming, with his hat shading his eyes. If that weren’t miracle enough, a gardenia was somehow blooming in his hands.

“War must be going badly, if the army’s letting them in!” the conductor said behind her. “He must be waiting for that gaggle.” He gestured to a laughing woman who lifted a baby as two small girls waved from the car’s last window.

“Don’t see anybody for you. You’d best stay put, Ma’am,” the conductor continued before Kitty could speak, “Flagstaff’s a proper stop, you can telephone your party from there. Put it back, George,” he instructed the stooped porter who held her bag and was already halfway down the aisle.

“But--” she began, as the train lurched. The edge of her suitcase bumped one of the smaller of the girls off her feet. She began to cry. Without thinking, Kitty rushed forward, opened her arms. The mother transferred the baby to her, then lifted the little girl.

Watching from behind them all, the conductor broke off his abusive tirade at the porter, “Now, Ma’am, you don’t have to--”

“Stand aside,” Kitty ordered. “I’m part of the disembarking gaggle.”

Even the little girl, who didn’t appear older than three, went wide-eyed and silent.

The porter grinned wide enough for her to see his gold tooth. “Well, if no harm’s done, this way, ladies and children,” he proclaimed brightly, taking up both sets of luggage.

The older girl blocked Kitty’s way, folding her arms. She wore a pretty blouse like her mother’s, with a one sleeved jumper over it. Unlike her mother’s braids, the girl’s black hair was whorled around each ear. “You can’t have our baby,” she proclaimed.

Her mother’s breath caught.

Kitty laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ll give her back,” she said, grateful for the girl’s mistrust. She looked down. How long had it been since she’d allowed herself to hold a baby? Breathe, she told herself. You can do this. She pulled herself from the still-sleeping baby’s beauty, her downy scent, and back to the belligerent five or six year-old. “How’s your sister?”

The scowling girl checked. “No bumps,” she reported, then tilted her head. “You smell nice.”

“Hey, thanks, kiddo.”

“Look.” She pointed her chin towards the window. “That’s my grandmother. See her wagon? Her horses? She has four more! Is that soldier waiting for you?”

“Yes.”

“Is he your man?”

“Sure is.” Kitty grinned at the conductor’s shock.

“He’s Dinè,” the girl chatted on. “My grandmother pets his arm. Look, ‘Ingu! Grandmother pets a Dinè.”

“Hush,” her mother admonished, stepping toward them with the smaller girl now snug in her arms. “My daughter is very young, Miss.”

“She’s a swell kid.”

A smile broke though the woman’s wary expression as she nodded. “You honor my family. Thank you.”

As the door opened, the heat hit Kitty with a force that rocked her stance. But the child balanced her. So much that Kitty didn’t want to give her up.

Luke Kayenta eased her down the train’s steps, then took the baby from her arms and assisted the young family. She was grateful for the happy squeals of the woman and her children as they surrounded their grandmother, but her own arms were suddenly, unbearably empty.

Luke returned, casting her in his shadow.

“Sa’ah naaghai bik’eh hozho, Yanaha,” he said quietly, formally, pinning the flower to the lapel of her mauve suit. She recognized the phrase from his letters. ‘Walk in beauty’ was its poor English translation. And he used the name he’d given her, Yanaha: She Meets the Enemy. His voice, deeper than she remembered, made it soar. Those exotic Valentino eyes were exactly as she remembered. Where had he found a gardenia? Its scent drifted past the strand of pearls against her throat. She struggled to find her voice.

“Hey. Got some change?” she finally blurted out.

He plunged his big, gentle hands into his pockets, then showed her his open palms. In the middle of the copper pennies gleamed a silver dollar. She chose it. Why had she let her sister talk her into painting her nails? He was staring at them now. Well, as long as she’d already shocked him… “How about a kiss?”

He smiled. She remembered how rare his smiles were. “Yes. I have many kisses for you, Kitty.”

“It’s been a long trip. You think you could plant the first?”

She would have been mortified if he had hesitated, but he didn’t. He swooped on her mouth as if it was his ultimate destination over the months they’d been apart. She flipped the coin while she still had a sense of where the porter stood, and heard it land in his palm.

“Why, thank you, Missus, Captain, sir. You have yourselves a good visit now!”

Kitty didn’t remember anything but the taste of Luke after that, except for a vague sense of her skirt flying in the train’s wake.

Luke spoke a little, didn’t he, as he gasped for air, as he buried his nose in her hair, her neck? Not in English, but in that deep, nasal drawling language, as she felt her breasts react against that buttoned-up uniform, and gasped as the evidence of his desire tantalized her inner thighs.

When they finally finished the kiss their shadows seemed longer on the small platform. Both the train and the wagon were gone. Only a beat-up, dusty green truck remained. Luke’s smile slid lopsided.

“The silver dollar. It was for gas.”

“Let’s walk,” she suggested.

“But, Kitty— I told you, we have many miles to go yet.”

She grinned. “Relax, Captain. I’ve got a few bucks. If you’ve got the ration coupons, I’ll spot you for the gas.”

“Oh, yes. Of course. You were teasing me. The women tease me all the time. They say I’m too serious. It doesn’t help.”

She pressed her finger to that full bottom lip. “Luke. I’m so glad to see you.”

He drew her finger into his mouth, the sudden sensuousness of it robbing her breath. He held her close and she reveled in his familiar scent of corn and sage mixing with the oiled metal of the firearm wedged over his heart.

“We need to go,” he finally murmured. “The sun won’t wait for us to finish.”

“Finish what?” she teased.

He did not grin, or call her a brazen hussy, as other men might have done. “Drinking each other in,” he explained.

Thank you for visiting ALL OF ME's opening chapter. I welcome your comments and suggestions...eileencharbonneau@gmail.com