The Savage

Eight

"Frank! Jaynie, oh my goodness, are you hurt?"

Her arms swept me from Frank's, holding me close to her soft, sweet smelling skin. I burrowed into her warmth and closed my eyes, more wetness seeping through my lashes while Frank told her. Mamma listened in silence, her heartbeat increasing its pace beneath my ear. When he finished, she carried me inside, settling into her rocker. Still holding me in her arms, she began to rock, caressing my hair, humming under her breath. I wasn't certain if she was angry, but what I wanted most I got...her love and assurance. After a long time she put her lips against my ear.

"Honey, are you alright?"

"No," I resettled, laying my cheek against her shoulder. "Papa is gone."

"Yes." Her answer was tight, but held neither joy nor grief. "I know how much you miss him, Jaynie."

"Are you angry, Mamma?" I couldn't make myself look up at her, but I felt her shake her head, her fingers in my hair.

"No. It is good that you loved him so much. I wish you would have told me about this strange boy, but Jaynie..." she stopped as if searching for the right words. "I've been giving this a lot of thought, ever since last week when we quarreled. I cannot pretend you have no part of your father in you, and maybe I've been pushing too hard to make you forget. It's not going to be easy, you know, proudly showing your Indian heritage, but I want you to know, I'll always be here for you."

"You still love me then?"

"Love you?" pulling back, her fingers slid under my chin, tilting my head up. "Of course I do! Don't ever doubt that, sweetheart, ever."

"Even though I'm not white?"

"I love you just as you are, Jaynie. I'm sorry you had reason to question that."

"What if your baby is a girl? What then?" I pressed, finally able to express my deepest fear, comfortable in her embrace. Mamma searched my face, her green eyes startled, puzzled.

"I will not love you less, Jaynie. You are first daughter of my heart, no one can take that from you."

Nuzzling back into her arms, I breathed a sigh of relief, the sting of my father's loss still there, but lessened a little by her love. Sniffling, I wiped my nose with my sleeve, more tears dribbling down my face. Frank was in the doorway, watching, and my eyes shifted that way, finding his. We held that moment for a while, and I felt a subtle shifting inside me, the beginning warmth of gratitude. With a quick wink at me, he spoke to my mother.

"I'll go tend the chores. Holler if you need me."

"Frank?" Mamma's voice made him turn. "Jaynie should stay home with me, just for today."

"If that's what you think is best, I got no issue with it." He glanced at me, then back at her. "She looks tuckered out."

Tightening her arms around me, Mamma kissed the top of my head.

"My little girl just needs some time, then she'll be herself again. Won't you honey."

Nodding, I wrapped my arms around her neck. It felt so good to be near her, to know that she loved me, and I never wanted this moment to end. Once Frank was gone I leaned up and fiercely kissed her cheek, holding on tight. Pressing my nose to hers, our eyes met.

"I love you Mamma."

"I love you too baby." She brushed hair from my face, tucking the strands behind my ear. "You are so beautiful, my little Butterfly."

"Butterfly! You knew?!" pulling back, I gaped at her, startled. She smiled, a little sadly.

"Of course I knew. Your father told me what Kimimela meant, and I always thought it suited you, when you weren't busy running and fighting like a boy." Her smile softened the words.

"Can you call me that always?" our closeness made me comfortable to ask her, for the first time the barriers between us gone.

"Jaynie- honey, Kimimela is just too different." She tried to explain, to be kind, and I tried to listen and understand. "Everything is against you right now, and an Indian name will not help. I do it to protect you, to soften the way people will look at you, and react to you."

"Maybe...maybe you can call me Butterfly instead, sometimes."

"Perhaps," she smiled, loving, yielding. "If you think, maybe, you can learn to not curl your nose up when I call you Jaynie."

"I do not!"

"Oh yes you do!" she tweaked my nose playfully and we both giggled. After a moment, she cupped my chin in her hands. "Now, tell me about this boy."

"Well..." I thought about it for a moment then lay back against her, toying with her fingers. More moisture built in my eyes. "His name is Wind Runner, and he reminds me of Papa, mostly in his eyes..."