Chapter 3

I only got lost twice before I found the hospital, but I did find it eventually. Once inside, it took me another hour and a half just to get confirmation that the girl had been brought in, but the nurses seemed completely disinterested and unwilling to tell me anything at all since I wasn’t a relative.

I admit I was making something of a pest of myself, but I never expected them to call the police on me. The police officer who showed up, an American Indian woman whose nametag said Wilson, but whose first name was Haseya, explained that it looked awful weird for a guy to be hanging out looking for information on a little girl.

She was patient with me and offered to buy me a cup of coffee while I told her my story. She even got on her radio and confirmed it with the highway patrol officers.

“Well, Luke, it all checks out. You did a good thing back there, but it is out of your hands now. The doctors here will take good care of her and when they identify her, they will do everything in their power to contact her family,” she told me, standing up from the table.

“The Sergeant told me she might be from the reservation, has anyone contacted them? Do you think they could tell me how she is doing? She was terrified and I gave that girl my word I would check on her.”

Officer Wilson got a strange look in her eye and held up a finger. She pulled her cell phone out and dialed a number, walking a bit away from me and spoke to someone for several minutes. When she hung up, she came back over and leaned on the tabletop.

“My brother-in-law is a police officer on the reservation,” she said, her eyes boring into mine. “He tells me that there have been several missing children over the last five years, but most turn out to be parental custody issues or children lost in the desert. It is very rough country out there. He’s going to ask around, check out their files, but he also wants to talk to you.”

“No problem. Is he coming here or should I meet him somewhere?”

“Where are you staying, Luke?” she asked, pulling out a small notepad from her breast pocket.

“Don’t know yet. I was just passing through when this all happened.”

“There is a place across the street from the hospital. Not fancy, but a lot of families will stay there when they have someone in the hospital. Let me give you my card. When you get a room, call me and let me know, okay?”

I agreed and gave her my cell phone number as well, in case she wanted to reach me.

The next two days were maddening. I was afraid to leave the motel area and damned determined not to just leave altogether until I kept my promise, but I was bored stiff. About the only thing worth doing there was a pool.

I did make a couple of trips to the store and bought myself a couple of towels, a bathing suit and some sunscreen. I spent hours and hours in that pool. If I wasn’t swimming, I was sitting out getting way too much sun and reading. Then Mrs. Salton got a room right by the pool.

Mrs. Salton introduced herself to me on the day she arrived. She was there because her aging aunt was in for hip surgery and, being the only available relative who was not either working or raising children, she was chosen to keep her company.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love my Aunty Gerty, always have, but this is not where I thought I would be spending my summer,” she confided, taking a chair next to mine.

Mrs. Salton, Althea, was thirty-one and a widow. She had been married only four years, straight out of college, when her husband died from a massive heart attack at work. The autopsy found he had an undiagnosed heart condition which, if detected early enough, might have been corrected by surgery. Since he had been a very healthy child, he had never been checked for anything of the sort.

“Luke, I have been alone for five years, living near both our families who insist on being intimately involved in my life. Even if I wanted to get out and date, they would be all over him in a heartbeat. Background checks, private investigators, character witnesses. They are all very paranoid.”

“Why? I mean, it sounds like a bit much. There was a widow in our town who married two years after her husband died and everyone was happy for her.”

“Money, Luke. My family is well off, his family was well off. They are afraid that poor little Althea, distraught and bereaving, would be taken in by some two-bit lothario and stripped of her money, embarrassing the family.” The venom in her voice was clear, but her expression, well, she just looked lonely.

“So, what do you do all day then? You said you aren’t working, and you don’t have any children. Don’t you get bored?”

“You have no idea! I took to volunteering at the Museum of Modern Art, taking tourists around. At least there, I can talk with the people who work with me, even taking lunches with the girls. It’s not much, but it is better than sitting at home. What I really need is a...” she trailed off, blushing.

It was silent for a bit and we both took a dip to cool off. When we returned to our chairs, she got me to talk about myself, about my past, what little of it there was.

When night fell, she invited me out to dinner and took me to a nice little place that was a bit fancier than I had ever been. I felt out of place with my short sleeve shirt and khakis, but she just waved off my objections.

“You look wonderful, Luke. Just hold your head high and dare them to say a word.”

We had wine with dinner, my first time other than the watered down drek at communion. It was sweet and felt warm going down, even warmer in my stomach. We had lamb, something else I had never tried, and it was delicious!

After dinner, Althea invited me to her room, offering me a nightcap. She opened a bottle of wine and poured each of us a glass, then closed the curtains and, when she turned back, let her dress slide to the floor.

She was ... oh my!

Althea did things to me, with me, that I had heard whispered about in the locker room at school. She did things I had never heard about and things I had never dared even dream about.

I don’t know what time we went to sleep, but it was light outside.

When I woke up, she was still sleeping so I quietly dressed and left her a note thanking her for the wonderful evening and telling her I went to my room to shower.

Back in my room, my head felt fuzzy and my mouth tasted like one of the pigs from the farm had been rolling around in there, so I took a good shower and brushed my teeth. Twice.

I was putting my swimsuit on when my cell phone rang.

“Is this Luke Mason? This is Officer Hidalgo, Canoncito Police department. I am downstairs and I’d like to talk to you about the girl you found.”

I invited him up and made sure the bed was made, the room neat while I waited.

“Luke, good to meet you,” he said when I opened the door, sticking out his hand to shake mine. He was a big guy, about four or five inches over six feet and had shoulders so wide the almost brushed the sides of the doorway when he came in.

He was dressed in jeans, a western shirt and dusty boots, and had a cowboy hat on. He also had a pistol in a holster on his belt and a six-pointed, star-shaped badge attached to the front.

I went over my story again, telling him about the accident I passed, about seeing something that caught my attention and about finding the girl. I told him about how she had acted, the injuries she had and how frightened she had been. I also told him about my promise.

“I know the girl, Luke. Or at least, I knew her. Her father went to school with me, her mother was from off the Rez. They went into Albuquerque to shop about a year ago, never came back. No one has seen any of them since. The girl’s name is Ajei, it means ‘My Heart’ and her grandmother still lives on the Rez. She’s coming to get her in just a little while and she wants to meet you.”

“Ajei? That’s a pretty name. Why does her grandmother want to meet me? Not that I mind, and I really want to check on Ajei anyway, but I am curious.”

“Ajei has not spoken. Not a word. She cries and, if they don’t keep her locked in her room, tries to run off every chance she gets. Most times, they find her hiding under her bed, or in the corner behind a chair. That is one troubled little girl.”

“She was calm with me, she seemed to feel safe with me that day. Is there a way I can see her? Anything I can do to help?”

“That is what we want to see.”

At the hospital, it was a wait of almost an hour before three men and two women, all dressed in what I assumed was traditional garb, entered the waiting room. Two of the men and one of the women were middle-aged and the other two, one woman and one man, were elderly, with long gray and white hair.

Officer Hidalgo stood up and nodded respectfully to the elders, shaking hands with the younger three, then turned to me.

I stepped forward when he beckoned me, and the old woman stared at me for several minutes without saying a word. Then she turned to the old man and said something in a language I didn’t recognize. The old man stepped forward and it seemed like he was examining me. I held my tongue while he slowly shuffled all the way around me before stopping in front, close enough I could feel his breath.

He laid a gnarled hand on my chest and closed his eyes for a moment. When they opened, there seemed to be surprise in them and he smiled at me. He said something over his shoulder and the rest of the group looked shocked. He removed his hand, winked at me, then turned to the group, speaking at length in his own tongue.

One of the younger folks, the other officer, didn’t look at all happy but the oldest woman stepped forward and touched my cheek, saying something I didn’t understand. Her tone was friendly, welcoming and, when I looked at Officer Hidalgo, his eyes were wide and his jaw was open as if he couldn’t believe his ears.

As one, the whole group turned and trouped out of the waiting room. It wasn’t until Officer Hidalgo grabbed my arm that I realized I was supposed to follow along.

We traipsed along several hallways before passing a nurse’s station and stopping before a closed door. A nurse came over and spoke quietly to Officer Hidalgo, accepted some paperwork and then unlocked the door.

The whole group stood aside and looked expectantly at me and, at a nod from Hidalgo, I entered the room.

There was no one in the bed but I had been warned that she liked to hide, so I sat down, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“Angel, Ajei, are you in here sweetheart? It’s Luke. I promised I would come back to see you, and here I am,” I said softly, trying to penetrate the shadows under the bed.

A warm and squiggly armful hit me from the other side, wrapping herself around me and crying silently.

“Ah, there you are! I missed you, little one. I hope they are taking good care of you in here,” I whispered, kissing her on the top of the head and stroking her hair.

She looked and smelled a lot better today, her hair clean and brushed as well. She wiped her tears on my shirt and looked up at me and, when she smiled, I had to laugh.

“You have a beautiful smile! Why have you been hiding it from me?” I asked playfully.

Ajei squirmed up until her little mouth was right next to my ear, and in the whisper so faint I had to strain to hear, she broke my heart again.

“Hatalii, my mommy and daddy are dead. The bad man is dead too. Can I live with you now?”

It turned out that the elderly couple, Sam White River and Mary Gray Squirrel, were tribal elders and that he was their medicine man, a tribal shaman. The middle-aged woman and one of the men, her husband, were Ajei’s grandparents, Albert and Martha Little Deer. The third man was also a member of the tribal police and didn’t give his name.

He didn’t seem to care for me much, for some reason.

Ajei was hesitant at first, but it only took a couple of seconds for her grandmother to be recognized. Ajei was happy to see her, giving her a kiss and then crying with her when she told her grandmother that her son, and his wife, were both dead. Ajei seemed a bit stand-offish with her grandfather and all of the other men including Sam White River and ended up back in my arms when it came time to leave.

“Hatalii come too?” she asked me and what could I say? I looked to her family and they all smiled, nodding their heads.

“Of course, I will, Angel,” I told her, earning a soft kiss on my cheek.

The confusion over which vehicle to take was exacerbated by Ajei’s refusal to travel separately from me and her family’s insistence that we should be separated. I got a promise from those gathered that I could get a ride back later on and climbed in her grandparent’s car with the family.

It was about an hour’s drive to the reservation and it gave us time to talk a bit. They were more than a little curious about me and I could understand that. I told them, briefly, about the death of my family and about my desire to be away from there. Then I took a turn, asking them about something that was on my mind.

“Ajei calls me Hatalii. What does that mean? When I ask her, she just giggles.” As if to prove my point, she giggled at me and stuck her tongue out. When I returned the look, she seemed to think that was the greatest thing in the world and laughed long and loudly.

“A Hatali is a traditional healer, a singer to the Navajo people. With the added emphasis she uses, I think she refers to our spirit healer, something from children’s stories.” Ajei’s grandmother Martha said.

“The diiyiin dine’e’ hatalii was a special healer, a child of the holy people who would walk among the sick, healing with a touch. It is from a child’s tale, a song sung by mothers to their babies. My mother sang it to me, I sang it to my son and his wife must have sung it to Ajei,” she said thoughtfully.

I kept my thoughts to myself. Ajei remembered more than I thought she would about my finding her alongside the road. My only hope was that her people assumed it was a child’s fantasy, a product of the old tales.

“Your wise one, the medicine man, what did he see? In the hospital? What did he tell you about me?” I asked, almost afraid to find out.

This time it was Albert who answered, meeting my eyes, briefly, in the rear-view mirror.

“Old Sam considers himself the keeper of the lore, a medicine man of the old school, like our ancestors had. Most of us humor him, knowing that modern medicine beats a fire chant. Still, he has done some things, said some things, that keep the respect for the old ways alive.” He paused for a moment, obviously chewing over what to say and what not to say.

“Sam says you were raised by a devil but rejected the evil spirits to walk in the light. He says you are very powerful, but you have your own path to walk. He thinks you will stay for a while and then you will leave to continue your journey.”

Again, I kept my thoughts to myself. Sharing any of this wouldn’t make things easier, that’s for certain.

The first part of the reservation I saw was very much like that pictured in my sociology textbook in school. Mobile homes on run down lots, half-naked, dirty kids chasing balls under the blistering sun.

We eventually came to a small area where things were more modern. Small homes on regular lots, though only a couple of dozen at most. Here were a few modern buildings, one marked Courthouse. We parked in front of the building next door, the Desidero Center, and got out of the car.

The Medicine man, his wife and the two reservation cops were already there waiting, and they bundled us off, out of the sun and into the air-conditioned building.

Ajei’s grandparents stepped aside, talking quietly to the two cops but the medicine man and his wife, Sam and Mary, brought us into nice sized office filled with shelves holding fascinating looking items. There were animal skulls and leather pouches, turquoise and silver bands and beadwork bags.

Once we were all seated, Albert and Martha came in, but they came for Ajei.

“Come, granddaughter. We will show you your bedroom, where you will stay. We have some clothes that will fit you and we can get you more. I am sure you want to get out of that hospital gown and eat some good food instead of hospital food,” Martha said cheerfully, easing the child out of my arms and into her own.

“Hatalii?” she called, looking worriedly over at me.

“Ajei, angel, these are your family. They are good people. You will be living with them from now on. Don’t be afraid. I promise I will come see you again before I go,” I told her soothingly, standing and giving her little hand a kiss.

“Will you go and be a good girl for your grandmother and your grandfather?” I asked her, meeting her eyes. She stared at me for the longest time, then pulled my hand to her forehead.

“Hatalii,” she said quietly.

When she released me and gave her grandmother a kiss on the cheek, I thought the older woman was going to break into tears. She wiped her eyes and gave me a grateful look before hustling out with her granddaughter. Albert gave me a look too, but I wasn’t sure how to interpret it, then followed his wife.

“So, Luke, is it? Sit, sit. Can I get you a drink? A beer?” Sam asked cheerfully, pointing to some comfortable chairs arranged around a small table.

“Water would be fine, thank you.”

Once we were seated, Sam leaned forward, his weathered face alight with curiosity.

“Luke, Ajei calls you Hatalii. Not hatali, a healer, but Hatalii, the singer, the child of the old ones. It is from a children’s tale we sing to our babies.”

I nodded and I could tell he was surprised that I recognized the story.

“I asked Albert and Martha,” I told him, getting a nod in return.

“Albert pretends to be modern, with his iPad and his surround sound, but he has the heart of a traditionalist,” Sam said with a chuckle.

“Ajei says you healed her. That you fixed her inside where the bad man had hurt her,” Sam said, watching me closely.

“She was in pain, delirious, laying in the heat of the desert when I found her,” I said carefully, not denying anything, but leaving room for them to choose another interpretation if they wanted.

“You are not of the people and I do not expect you to believe how we believe. I can sense great power in you. I can sense great pain too, and a terrible purpose. You have a long journey, with many trials ahead of you, but you are destined for something beyond what I can see,” Sam said quietly.

Mary leaned forward, putting her hand on Sam’s forearm and stopping him from saying anything else.

“Luke, I am not a medicine man and don’t see what Sam sees. I see a good man who helped a child when she needed it most. I am not asking that you admit anything, I know the world is a scary place, but I am a mother first, the wife of a medicine man second. There are three children, each need more than we can give, more than the doctors at the hospital in the city can give. Would you meet them?”

I looked between them, seeing the hope in their eyes. I think that Mary had hope for the children, but Sam had hope for ... something more? For proof, maybe?

What if it were my Becky who needed help?

With a sigh, I nodded, but I held up a hand.

“I have three requests. Not conditions, I am not holding three children hostage with conditions, but requests. Please, tell no one. The government that treated your ancestors so poorly is no better today. Next, I want to keep my word and see Ajei before I leave, and I will have to leave after this. Last, I would like to see each child alone. I don’t want to meet the parents, but I do need to know what is wrong, what the diagnosis is.”

They both look surprised but seemed amenable.

“We will say nothing, Luke, we give our word. As for the rest, it is no problem at all,” Sam said eagerly.

“There are limits, actual physical limits. I have only ever done this with injuries, I have no idea if it will even do anything with a disease or, well, anything else, really. Also, this takes energy, I don’t know how much so don’t be surprised if I need to eat or even sleep. And please, I am not sure yet how it all works, so don’t be too disappointed if I can’t help,” I told them, begging them almost, wanting them to understand.

They both nodded. Watching them, I could almost read the emotions they were feeling. Elation that I would try, hope that this was not a waste of time, fear that it wouldn’t work, and that it would.

“When...” Mary started to ask and I just held out my hands helplessly.

“Now, I guess. Are they near? Where can we do this?”

“You don’t need anything special? No preparation?” Sam asked curiously.

“No, just ... just the child.”

Mary took my hand and led me to another office, smaller, more intimate. There was a couch and an armchair and she sat me down there.

I waited quietly for about twenty minutes before Sam led in a small girl. He sat her on the couch nearest where I sat in the armchair, and then turned to me.

“Hatalii, Alice has a cancerous tumor in her head. The doctors say she is too weak for chemo and the tumor is buried too deep, in too dangerous a spot for surgery. They are waiting, trying to improve her health, but she is losing her sight and the pain is great. It is located here,” he said quietly, holding his index and middle finger together, pointing at a spot near the base of the brain where it meets the spinal column.

“Alice, may I touch you?” I asked, kneeling next to the little girl.

She looked towards me or, to be more precise, turned her head towards me in the way that many blind people do. Her eyes were open but not focusing on anything.

“You are the Hatalii? Ajei says you are a holy man. Can you help me?”

Her voice reached into my chest and squeezed my heart. How can bad things happen to innocent angels like this?

I nodded towards the door and Sam got the hint. He left, though grudgingly.

“I want you to lay back on this couch, Alice, okay? Just in case you get dizzy, I would hate for you to fall and bump your nose. Can you imagine how angry your mother would be if I sent you back to her with a bumped nose?” I said playfully, my voice filled with mock outrage.

Alice giggled and lay back, one hand thrown up and across her forehead.

“Oh, dear, what will I do with a bumped nose?” she said in a credible southern accent.