Cherokee

Suddenly the world around them ceased, sounds and scents fading. She felt it, too, he thought. The sexual pull. The heat that wasn’t supposed to happen. They weren’t talking about chocolate eclairs.

“I don’t think cheating is a good idea,” she said, breaking their unnerving stare.

“Yeah,” he agreed, his voice huskier than usual. “We have more discipline than that.”

She folded her hands on her lap. “Of course we do.”

They sat quietly then, and Adam noticed the world had returned. The breeze blew a little stronger, stirring scents from his garden. He turned toward the plants and studied the small crop, needing to focus on something other than the attraction he had vowed to ignore.

“I read that when traditional Cherokees gather wild herbs, they ask a plant for its permission to be gathered, then leave a small gift of thanks,” he said, thinking it was a beautiful practice. He wondered how it would feel to leave a shining bead on the ground in place of a plant.

“Was that in one of your text books?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I subscribe to a Cherokee newspaper. I get it online, in digest form, and they post cultural tidbits in every issue. Unfortunately my education didn’t include Native American practices, at least not to any degree.”

“The elders pass along things like that.”

“I don’t know any elders,” he said, watching her tight expression, the one that came over her face whenever he mentioned their heritage. “You’re the only Cherokee I know.”

“I can’t help you, Adam. I don’t follow the old ways anymore.”

He scooted his chair forward. “Why not?” he pressed, hoping to uncover her mystery, unveil the true woman, the soul behind the quiet, exotic beauty.

She didn’t respond. Instead she reached for her tea and held the mug, drawing comfort, it seemed, from the warmth.

He saw sadness in her eyes, the loneliness reflected in his own. They were meant to be part of each other’s lives, he thought. He wouldn’t let this lost angel fly away.

“I don’t think being Cherokee is anything to be proud of,” she said finally.

He didn’t know how to react, so he waited for her to continue. She did, after she tasted her tea.

“When I was young my mother filled my head with all of those romantic notions about the old ways. I was taught to believe in the unity of family and have pride in my heritage.” She met Adam’s gaze, her voice distant. “Cherokee men were supposed to be warriors—their role to remain strong and provide for their wife and children.”

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