by her older sisters, who couldn’t quite say her whole name as toddlers.
Anna’s father was a highly respected political Navajo leader, while her mother followed the traditions of the women of her clan, making beautiful native jewelry, sculptures, and other hand-made arts and crafts. They sold the items in the Native American Market at the scenic Oak Creek Canyon Vista Overlook off Highway 89-A. The open-air market sat atop the switchback mountains of Oak Creek Canyon at the mouth of the scenic drive that led into the valleys of Sedona.
Her family had been lucky to win the lottery that allowed them to be one of the sixteen vendors who set up daily to sell only the highest quality authentic arts and crafts as part of the project started by Native Americans for Community Action in partnership with the Coconino National Forest.
Anna was adept at beading and hand-painting wooden sculptures, and she enjoyed helping make the crafts when she was a girl. But as she blossomed into a teenager, she grew restless and bored, knowing there was more to the world, wanting only to escape the reservation to see what lay beyond.
One day a white teenage boy strolling through the market with his family caught her eye. He was tall and lanky with blonde hair that fell over his eyes when he bowed down to take a closer look at the carved stone pieces on their table.
It had been a particularly busy Saturday in their high season that late summer, and as she lugged another batch of jewelry to replenish her mother’s table, Anna looked up, and her dark brown eyes met the most beautiful set of blue eyes she had ever seen. They were the blue-green color of the Colorado River at dawn, or the turquoise rocks she collected in the mountains for cutting into gemstones.
And when he smiled, she felt her heart melt like warmed brown sugar, turning into syrup and trickling down to parts of her body she didn’t really know existed before that moment in time.
She realized she was staring too long when her mother came up and firmly pushed her aside. “Can I help you?” Wenona politely asked.
“N-n-no, I was just looking, thanks,” the boy clumsily muttered and turned to go, probably to look for his parents. But he briefly glanced over his shoulder back toward their table. Anna met his gaze as he flashed her a mischievous grin.
She tried to forget about him, but several hours later as dusk approached, when she was helping pack up their wares, her head bent as she collected all of the jewelry into a satchel, a hand lightly touched her forearm. She looked up, and there he was, his eyes piercing hers. He deftly opened her hand and put a small piece of paper in it, then smiled, winked at her, and waved goodbye, not saying a word. She watched him as he joined what looked to be his parents and his younger brother who were walking toward the parking lot. She waited for her mom to be out of eyesight before she discreetly unfolded the tiny paper. “Meet me back here at the entrance tonight after nine. I will wait for you, Jack.”
Jack. She liked his name and bit her lip to keep from saying it out loud.
SHE FOUND a way to sneak out of their house that night, past where Flo and Dena lay sleeping in the room they all shared, out through the back kitchen door, across the back yard, through the woods that adjoined their lot to the thick woods of the Coconino National Forest, and out onto the entrance of the Oak Creek Canyon Vista where hundreds of tourists pulled over each day to view the breathtaking forested canyon that lay beneath.
This is crazy, she told herself, panting, breathless from the steep climb. I should turn back, I don’t even know him, what if someone sees me, what if I die out here? Although she carried a sharp wood carving knife in her pocket and was no stranger to the wildlife in the canyon, she felt anxious. She had been told by her mother and father to never wander alone through the woods, especially at night. They had warned her that if she did, she could be attacked by stray campers breaking the laws that forbade non-members of the Navajo Nation to abide within its territory, not to mention wolves and bears she might stumble upon.
She nearly screamed when the beam of her flashlight lit up the tips of Jack’s boots. He was sitting on an old tree stump a few yards off the entrance. He stood and approached her, his heels crunching on the gravel. She stood and waited for him, her breath still caught in her throat.
“You’re trembling,” he said gently as he ran his hands down her shoulders. Even though it was an unseasonably warm evening, she had hiked for at least a mile, and she was wearing a bulky knit sweater her grandmother had made that would keep an Eskimo warm, she was still shivering.
“I guess I’m a little chilly,” she lied, feeling a drop of sweat trickle down her back.
“You know, I don’t even know your name.”
“It’s Anna,” she replied shyly. “Anna Becenti.”
Jack shook her hand. “Nice to officially meet you, Anna Becenti. I’m Jack Foreman. And why don’t we go get warm?”
He motioned to the tree stump where he had been sitting, and Anna noticed a folded blanket and a big, brown paper bag. Jack also had a flashlight, and he shone it ahead and guided Anna by the arm to the spot.
“How did you get here?” Anna knew the Coconino National Park rangers were usually scarce at night, but still she worried. What if we get caught?
“I drove, silly, but I parked my car up ahead off the highway. I had to hike two miles to get here.” He spread the blanket in a little alcove under a large pine tree that was a few yards away, motioned for her to sit down next to him, and opened the bag, pulling out a bottle of wine and two plastic cups.
Anna felt her mouth drop open. “Alcohol isn’t allowed here,” she whispered fiercely. She had never had as much as a sip of wine or beer in her entire seventeen years on earth. Prohibition had always been the law of the Navajo Nation ever since it formed its own sovereign government, laws, and judicial system in the 1920s.
“Relax, I’ll hide it if we see any cop cars or rangers drive by,” he said with a cavalier flair, twisting the cap off the cheap white wine, then pouring it into the plastic cups until they were full.
“But…” Anna started to protest as he handed her the cup, but then stopped, taking it. He won’t believe me if I tell him I’ve never had anything alcoholic to drink before. I guess it won’t hurt to try it and when he’s not looking dump it out. After he tipped his cup to hers in a mock toast, she put the wine to her lips and sipped. Yuck. It tasted like the vinegar her mother sometimes added to tone down the gaminess of some meats like goat and rabbit. But she did like the radiating warm glow it seemed to spread to her insides, so she took a few more sips and then a gulp, realizing it wasn’t so bad after all. Besides, she was thirsty.
“Whoa, slow down a little,” Jack said, grinning. “I walked a long way to get here, so we need to make this last.” He took her hand in his and looked into her eyes as they sat next to each other on the blanket under the night sky. Suddenly his face loomed close, he closed his eyes, and his lips were touching hers, kissing her. Anna had read about kissing, heard her older sisters and friends talk about what it was like, but had never experienced the sensation before. It was her very first kiss, and initially, she hoped she was doing it right, then she just closed her own eyes and experienced the warm wonderful sensation of it.
They talked, laughed, kissed, and cuddled for almost an hour until the wine ran out and Jack said he better get back to the hotel where his family was staying before they sent someone out looking for him. He had told them he was merely making a store run.
On her way back home, Anna mulled over all of the things she had learned about Jack Foreman, smiling dreamily and almost tripping over an
