Cobb (Lighthouse Security Investigations #9) - Maryann Jordan Page 0,38

should leave or stay. But ultimately, it was her mother that pushed her out the door. There was an independent spirit about my great-grandmother, and for a woman in the 1970s to be able to leave for a college scholarship… well, her mother said it was too great an offer to turn down. But then she met my grandfather, a non-Native, and her life became having one foot in two camps, belonging to both and neither.”

“And your mother?”

“She is half-Apache, accepted as part of the tribe, but her life has been completely outside other than visits to her grandparents when they were still living. Now, she never goes back. Me? I go sometimes because I need to remember my heritage, but I know the reservation today is very different from the one my grandmother grew up on.”

“Because of the resort and casino?”

“Yeah, in some ways. More jobs. More money. And yet more thefts and crimes.”

By now, they were driving through the White Sands National Park and the road was covered with a layer of constantly blowing sand. Mountains still rose in the background but all around were dunes of gypsum sand, the scene appearing almost as driving through snow. There were areas of flat where vehicles parked, their occupants walking up the dunes.

“This is so amazing. I’ve been here before but not since I was a teen,” Josie admitted. “I swear, it seems like, in recent years, all I’ve done is work.”

“No recent travels?”

She sighed and shook her head. “No, and I really miss seeing new places.” Her voice was wistful.

Taking a chance, he said, “You should check out Maine sometime. See the beauty of the northeast again.” His breath held in his lungs as he waited to see her reaction. She was quiet but a smile graced her lips. He counted that as a win.

Once they passed the dunes, they neared the reservation and the topography changed again. Scrub brush gave way to trees and grass. In the distance, a blue lake nestled at the bottom of a green hill. After driving around and looking at some of the untouched areas of the reservation, they made their way along a winding road until a massive building rose in the background. “That’s the Inn of the Mountains Gods, the resort and casino. I thought we could have dinner there.”

Alighting from the SUV, they walked along a path until they came to the patio that gave a panoramic view of the lush, tree-covered hills.

Both sucked in deep breaths at the same time, then looked at each other and laughed. “Is this what you think of when you’re in Maine?” As soon as she spoke, she quickly shook her head. “I know the forests are thicker there, so it’s not the same. But, I mean, just being able to feel like you can breathe?”

“Yeah.” It surprised him how succinctly she was able to put his feelings into words. “I could never feel at home in a big city… or even a house in a suburb. I need space. Trees. Greenery. Water.”

She remained quiet, but he could feel unasked questions rolling off her. He reached down and linked his hand with hers, hoping she wouldn’t pull away. She glanced down at their connection before lifting her gaze and offering a blinding smile. “Come on.” He tugged her around to a place where they could sit alone on the grass and stare at the vista without others crowding around. They sat in silence, still connected by their fingers with his thigh resting alongside hers for several long moments, allowing the breeze to move over them, whispering deep inside. Collecting his thoughts, he loved how she gave him that, seeming to know the quiet was what he needed.

“I come here rarely, wondering what I’ll feel,” he began. “I do feel a connection to the land. I’ve studied the culture and taken it in as much as I can, still knowing that I will never understand what it was like to grow up here as my grandmother did. I’m not alone, though. Almost eighty percent of Native Americans don’t live on reservations. But sometimes, I do think of all the heritages that have blended together to create me. I’ve already told you that it was difficult as a teenager to be so different, but I think that helped make me who I am. The military gave me the chance to proudly serve with others who didn’t care what my grandparents’ heritage had been. My SEAL team,