Thunder In Her Body (47 page)

Their dining room table was a great find for Blaze.  It was a huge one-hundred inch tall flat door from an old house in southern Arizona.  With stripping of its many coats of wax and varnish, plaining on all sides, and reduction to about ninety-six inches long by fifty inches wide, it made an excellent, deep golden brown table top.  Finding the legs or base to set it on was a joint endeavor for him and Lynette.  They finally settled on a double base shaped like the larger side of a harp with curled footing.  It was a grand table set with four high-back Santa Fe step-style wooden chairs on each long side, a master’s arm chair on one end, matched by a mistresses arm chair on the other end.  They wanted to be able to seat at least ten people at any one time and with chairs tightly placed together, the table could accommodate a party of twelve.  The table was anchored by a tall, Spanish oak china cabinet, one of the few pieces purchased in Santa Fe.  The dining room was without a rug, so as not to diminish the look and feel of the red Spanish tiled floor.

Blaze wanted leather couches in the Great Room, so they compromised and had two leather ones, and a cloth sofa in a sturdy, bold, red Indian print.  Lynette didn’t particularly like sliding around on the slippery leather cushions, but if that’s what Blaze wanted, by God, they would have them.  She teased him about not being able to get a good “toe hold” on the slippery couches.  He joked back with her that they’d be too old to worry by the time they “christened” every piece of  new furniture in their home!  And it was his express intention to do just that.  Blaze had a tremendous appetite for love-making and Lynette indulged his every want.  In fact, with her lust for her husband, it was not long before they had tested all the furnishings as to strength and durability!

It was an absolutely gorgeous, warm and inviting home.  They planned to have the blessing of the home done over the Thanksgiving holiday, when all of the relatives would be there.  The Chief Elder and Father Gibbons, would again share the honor, and responsibility, of bringing a blessing to this wonderful couple, their home, and all who entered there.  Janette and her best friend Dena, shared the largest of the two guest rooms – the pink floral one; Trapper and his wife, Pepper, took the second one with the forest motif, and their sons Mike and Lawrence, took the pull-out queen sleeper sofa up in the loft, from which they were admonished not to hang.  Merrilynn stayed and worked at the hospital in Galveston, so other more senior staff could have the holiday with their families.  She knew she was missing something special at home, but storing up “brownie points” counted as she made her way into the surgical residency program.

Aaron and Clare were at the original house, with his son Brian, Brian’s wife and their three children.  His other son was bound to the holiday with his wife’s family, who were highly covetous of their daughter’s family time.  Over the years, her family had been exceedingly demanding of her time, especially at holidays, and Aaron chose not to pressure his son for visits.  When they could come, he welcomed them with open arms.  When they couldn’t, he missed them, but his attitude was,
es la vida –
that’s life.

Hawk and Maurice had dates out at the ranch for the holidays, and all were invited to the
First Annual Snowdown’s Thanksgiving Banquet
.

Trapper button-holed his dad back in his large, new office, and wanted to discuss the killings.  Blaze accommodated him to a point, but the wound was still too raw, and Trapper backed off.  Trapper knew.  Everybody knew, that he was not his biological child and neither was Merrilynn.  But as far as father-son relationships, none could have been stronger than between these two.  And the same went for him and Merrilynn.   So Trapper was emboldened.

“Dad, why don’t you and Lynette get pregnant and have another child?  Yeah, you’re older than most, but you’re both still young, and I can tell you’re really knockin’ it out of the box, by the way Lynette touches you and bounces around,” he said boldly.

“Boy…, you better hush up talking like that,” he chuckled back at his son, amused at his boldness.  “You and Pepper do all the baby-gettin’,” he coaxed, laughing at the thought.  There’d never been a reason to discuss Lynette’s hysterectomy with his children.  That was private, so Trapper didn’t know of this impediment.

But was it funny?  Moreover, was it even possible?

From time to time over the next few months the thought did cross Blaze’s mind.  He would always have the love of Trapper and Merrilynn, because he had been their father in every sense of the word, even if his blood did not run in their veins.  He knew there was more to being a father than simply being a sperm donor; and he’d fulfilled every obligation of parenting as possible, at least with these two.  But deep down inside of himself, somewhere primal, there lingered the desire to have a child from his heart, from his blood – the Apache blood.

On Christmas Eve of their first year of marriage, Blaze and Lynette laid snuggled together under a loosely woven warm throw on one of the big leather couches in the Great Room.  They were warmed by a roaring fire in the massive fireplace.  They watched the lights on their gorgeous Christmas tree twinkle and dance, as the strings alternated their sequences.  It was somehow hypnotic.  They remembered how beautiful Midnight Mass was in the Catholic Church, so they drove over to St. Francisco for that service, and were not disappointed.  The hymns were well-practiced and inspirational.  The incense was thick and heady and brought back memories of the little Indian altar boy who aspired to the priesthood, and the devout Catholic girl, who once thought about becoming a nun.  Afterwards, they came home, toasted each other with home-made eggnog, about the only thing Lynette drank with liquor in it, and curled up on the couch again.  Quiet, in love, and at peace.

Blaze lay with his head on a plush throw-pillow and his back against the soft leather fabric with Lynette tucked in against him, warm, safe and snuggly.  He wondered what it would be like for a child of his to sit under that tree, dazzled by all the bright lights.  He thought about all the presents they’d buy and wrap for their little offspring.  It had been a long time since he’d put a bicycle together in secret, or filled a Red Flyer wagon with gifts.  He longed for the giggle of a child being pulled in that wagon.  Christmases with his first wife had been fraught with tension and arguments during the holidays and he’d been robbed of the joy that the season should bring.  But now, with Lynette, a wife he could not have imagined only a year ago, he was so settled, so content, and nearly complete.  Trapper had sewn a seed.  One that had taken root in Blaze’s heart.  The only thing lacking was the sound of a child in his home again.  A happy child.

Almost a year to the day from that horrible day in October, and another year older, Blaze laid next to Lynette in their big bedroom, in the huge four-poster bed with the carved pineapple posts, under the smooth, lovely bed linens she’d so carefully chosen, watching the roaring fire in the Kiva fireplace.  The only thought in her head was how peaceful it was with Blaze at her side.

“When you had your hysterectomy, did they take your ovaries too?” Blaze asked out of the blue.

Surprised by the question, but not embarrassed to answer, Lynette said, “No, that’s why I don’t have the characteristic debilitating hot flashes.  Remember my little pink hormone pill?”  Pausing momentarily, “ Why?” she asked.

There was a long, thoughtful pause before Blaze answered.

“You and everyone else in this family know that I don’t have any child from my body.”  He hesitated for a long time.  “I don’t want to die – I guess the better way to say it is - I don’t want my blood to dry up from this earth.  We are put here to bring life.  That’s part of our duty as creations of the Father,” he said solemnly.

Her mind running ahead of his, she said, “There’s only two ways that can happen.  One, you have sex with another woman and impregnate her, or two we try for in-vitro fertilization, but we’d still have to get a carrier.  My uterus is gone,” she reminded him.

Secretly, she now wished that she hadn’t needed the hysterectomy.  That choice had been taken from her when she was about forty-two.  The doctors couldn’t stop the hemorrhaging, try though they did with drugs, and a D&C.  She had fibroids which kept her bleeding, so much so that she’d gotten anemic.  When they operated, the surgeons found hidden tumors behind her ovaries, plus the others that had already been discovered. Mercifully none were malignant.  If Blaze wanted a child, even at this late stage, she would have tried to give it to him.  But she couldn’t.

Lynette didn’t let this conversation go by the wayside.  She knew her husband well.  That he asked her about her fertility meant that he had given some serious thought to it.  That he no longer had any biological children of his own evidentially troubled him.  Ever the practical one, and in all seriousness, a week or so later, she sat him down in front of the big fireplace in the Great Room.  She began, a bit shakily, but in full love and concern for her husband’s need.

“If you want to have a baby with another woman, as your incubator…, I will help you do that.”  She swallowed, trying to get the next words, up and out of her mouth.  She took a deep, sustaining breath.  “We could find some young, healthy Apache woman, maybe one who has been divorced or widowed and needs the financial help.  We could work with her to determine her cycle and when she would normally ovulate, you could sleep with her enough to impregnate her, as long as you and I raise the child as our own.  It would be my child,” she said, every word spoken specifically to clearly convey her message. There was pain in her voice, but resolve on her face.  “Or…,” and Blaze cut her off.

“Have you lost your friggin’ mind, wife?” he asked her, looking incredulously at her, hearing her statement.  “You would let me sleep with another woman?” he said, almost angrily.

“I’m trying to work through this … what you want,” she said apologetically.

He stood up.  He lifted her to her feet by her shoulders.  He looked deep into her eyes with a frightening scowl on his face.

“That night…that night at the little cabin, when I poured water over your body, I committed my body to you, to your body, and never to another woman for so much time as I walk on this earth.  I will never…never…never enter the body of another woman so long as I live. My seed will never swim inside another woman!  Do you hear me, my wife?  Do you not understand that my life belongs only to you and the Creator who made us all?  Tell me you understand that,” he said, almost shaking her.

“Blaze, I know that.  I do know that.  I’m just trying to tell you that I love you enough to do anything to give you that gift of life.  And if that’d be what it would take to give you a child, I will do that, my husband,” she replied, her mouth, her body full of love for this wonderful man.

“It will never be necessary.  You will never have to make that sacrifice,” he assured, and he clutched her tightly to his chest. 
How could a woman love him this way, love him so unconditionally,
he thought as he held her. 
What did I do in this life, or in past lives, to deserve such love?

Again, some days later, they resumed this conversation, but this time it involved their two bodies.

“If I am able to have a child from my body, it will be with you,” he said.  “I’ve been in touch with a clinic in Dallas that does marvelous things with eggs and sperm.  If you’re willing to undergo some treatments to…ahhh…,” he began to stutter.

“To enhance production and liven up my old eggs,” she finished his sentence with a loving smile.

“Well, let’s not put it quite that way, but yes – to do whatever science can do to ensure healthy ova.  Then…they could take your eggs, put them with my seed and do the in-vitro.  They assure me that a “carrier,” a surrogate, can be located.  It will be expensive, but hell, what’s money for if you can’t get what you want with it.  I want to have a baby with you, Lynn…I want a baby out of you…I want our child, I want to leave life here after I die,” he said, his voice resonating with resolve.

Lynette, like most women of her age, felt that her child-rearing and certainly child-bearing days were over.  In fact, having another baby after Janette was born had been banished from her conscious thoughts.  In a miserable marriage at the time, she couldn’t fathom bringing another life into that union.  She’d never really had that flush of feelings when holding a newborn, as some women did, that maybe they’d like to have
just one more!
She liked little babies, but they took care, and changed the lives of the parents for at least twenty years.  Did she really want to complicate what she and Blaze had together?  This was a marriage of a lifetime.  This was a union that most women would sell their immortal souls to have.  Did she love him enough to turn her world upside down to give him progeny?  She gave serious thought to what he was proposing, and two days later, after much soul searching and prayer for guidance, she drove out to the corral he was building to accommodate three more rescued horses.  She climbed up on the top railing of the fence and yelled over to him –

“We’re going to need a crib!”

Blaze dropped the shovel and walked over to her with a look on his face she was never able to describe.  He grabbed her off the fence, and let her slide slowly down his body until her feet barely touched the straw.  Kissing her the way he did, was like the first kiss they’d ever shared.  It was hungry and torrid, passionate and grateful.