balm leaves from the herb garden in their yard and chewed them quickly, trying to cover the taste and smell of the wine in her mouth. Then quietly as she could, she let herself in through the back door. She opened the refrigerator and helped herself to a glass of cold milk. That way if someone gets up, I’ll just tell them I couldn’t sleep. Milk always put her back to sleep.
But no one woke up. It was just before midnight when Anna finally fell asleep, dreaming of Jack’s kiss.
THE FOREMAN FAMILY was staying for three weeks in Arizona, where Jack’s father worked at a manufacturing plant while he, his mother, and two younger brothers toured Flagstaff, the Grand Canyon, and Sedona. Then they would head back to their home in Gary, Indiana.
Jack and Anna stole away to their favorite spot a few more times, sharing bottles of wine, making out under the stars.
Anna thought she was in love, so much so that she invited Jack to sneak back with her one night into their family hogan.
The tent-shaped log structure, situated on the Becenti property by the woods about a half-acre away from their more contemporary house, was a traditional sacred space her family used for occasional sweat lodges and other ceremonies her father hosted for family and friends.
The mountain weather had grown chilly with the approach of fall, especially in the evenings. Anna figured the hogan would provide shelter from the cold wind as well as privacy, despite her misgivings that she was somehow being sacrilegious to her ancestors.
She led Jack by the hand through the blanket-covered entrance to what appeared on the outside as a large, clay-covered hut. Once inside, Jack let go of Anna’s hand and looked around him in awe. Three ten-foot cedar logs intersected from the ground up to form the foundation of the tent-like structure, with a huge wooden pole rising up in the center for support. The walls were also made of vertical cedar logs.
“This is so cool,” he whispered, staring almost reverently at the wooden structure around him as his eyes adjusted to the shadowy interior. “What do you do in here?”
“It’s called a hogan.” Anna ran her hand along the smooth amber-colored wood of one of the support beams, feeling ambivalent now about her decision to bring Jack into her family’s sacred space. “It’s a Navajo word meaning ‘the place home.’ My people lived in hogans for many years up until the early nineteen-hundreds when the government forced the Navajos to buy HUD houses with more modern bathrooms and kitchens. But my dad was one of several Navajo leaders—elders, medicine men, business men—who decided our people needed to remember their heritage and bring the hogan back.
“In 2001, a partnership formed between the Navajo Nation, Northern Arizona University, the US Forest Service, and a Navajo-owned log home factory to start building log hogans from surplus wood out of the local forests. It’s like there’s been a hogan revival on the Navajo Nation. They’re built like this one or in hexagon or octagon shapes, and some are even used as homes if they meet government regulations. Ours is just used for ceremonial purposes.”
Jack walked over to a charred, round space toward the center. “Can we somehow build a fire?”
“No!” Anna whispered. “My family might see the smoke. But there are some blankets we can cover up with to keep us warm.” She pulled down two Native American wool blankets her mother had made from pegs where they hung in the hogan.
They sat on two of the dozen mats scattered about, huddled under the blankets.
“Too bad we drank all the wine earlier.” Jack fished in his pocket and held out a rolled joint. “Good thing I brought my emergency stash.” His pout about the cold turned into an eager grin.
“Jack!” Anna pushed his hand away.
“You people are so strict,” Jack said, frowning. “No drinking, no smoking.” He sat moping until his face brightened with a new idea. “You know, I read some history where Indians used to smoke peace pipes. I’m sure they were filled with opium or something. Plus, marijuana is legal in almost every state now.”
“That doesn’t matter because our laws govern our land.” Anna suddenly felt bad that she sounded so defensive. It might be nice to try it now that the wine has worn off, she thought, feeling amorous and adventurous. “I guess we could smoke it real fast.”
She watched Jack inhale on the end of the tiny homemade cigarette, hold his breath for a few moments, then exhale. It smelled like the sage they used for their ceremonies, which was a comforting thought. When he passed the joint to her, she tried to mimic Jack but ended up having a coughing spasm, which sent him into a fit of laughter.
They passed the marijuana cigarette back and forth a few times until it became a tiny stub too small to hold. Jack snuffed it out on the hard-packed dirt floor and crawled under Anna’s blanket. Then, wordlessly, he took his jacket off, made it into a pillow for both of them, and lay back on it, pulling her down with him. He rolled toward her, the length of his body warm and hard against hers, and started to kiss her. Then she felt his hand go up under her sweater.
“Jack, I don’t think…I don’t know if…” but she really didn’t want him to stop, passion flooding through her, ignited by the pot smoke and her teenage desires, and she let him touch her in places she had never been touched.
She sat up and was about to remove her sweater altogether when she heard the loud crunch of approaching footsteps. Anna sat frozen with fear.
“Hey, come back here,” Jack whispered loudly, grabbing her shoulder, his hearing not as attuned as hers.
“Shhh.” She put a finger to her lips and held her other hand over his mouth. “Someone’s coming.”
Jack sat up abruptly, listening. He turned to her, his face turning pale as he too heard the sound, now getting louder and closer.
Anna slunk down and pulled the blanket up over her head, motioning for Jack to do the same. The footsteps suddenly stopped.
“Phew,” Jack sighed.
“Who’s in there?” A deep man’s voice boomed as the door cover was thrown open, and a gust of cold air and the bright beam of a flashlight intruded on the hogan’s interior.
“Papa, it’s me.” Anna sat up uncovering herself and saw her father’s shape filling the entrance. The flashlight beam shone into her eyes.
“What are you doing in here? I smell marijuana! And what… who is under that blanket?”
Jack threw off the blanket and stood. “I’m sorry, sir, my name is Jack and––”
“Enough!” In one swift motion, the hulking figure in the doorway loomed over them, a giant hand swooped in like an eagle’s claw and grabbed Jack’s arm, and the teenage boy was hurled through the doorway out into the night. Paco Becenti growled as he turned and exited the hogan. “Get out of here, you filthy piece of white trash,” he snarled, and Anna could hear Jack’s racing footsteps receding.
She sat shaking with fear, hot tears of shame streaming down her face.
But her father never re-entered, silently retreating back to their home.
CHAPTER 3
DESPITE HER PLEADINGS, Paco Becenti forbade his daughter to ever see Jack again.
“He’s
