29. Hailey
Hailey
A nother beautiful June morning. The sun rises early now, as we head rapidly towards the longest day of the year.
These early mornings are my favorite time of day.
I am sitting on a wooden chair on my little veranda, drinking my first coffee of the day and enjoying the peace and tranquility of it all.
There's a very mild breeze from the south, warm, comforting, gently ruffling my hair and caressing my cheeks as if it was a delicate, lover's kiss.
I can smell the scent of peonies and delphiniums from the flower bed below, and I can hear the buzz of insects as they go about their ever-urgent pollen-collecting duties.
Small wonder we have the expression 'busy as a bee'.
There's an occasional low 'quack' and a splash as the local mallard ducks dabble for their food in the calm waters of the lake.
In the distance, ever present, is the gentle, susurration of the wind in the trees—a sound that on a day like this with such a gentle breeze, could easily lull you to sleep.
On the table beside me lies an envelope, slightly yellow with age.
Well done munchkin, you found it!
A part of me—indeed most of me—wants to tear it open, to devour its contents, to feel closer to my long-gone mom and dad, even for a few, short moments. But another, smaller part of me is frightened of what I might read, and worse, of how I will cope.
I sigh deeply and mentally shake myself.
This is no good. I've delayed it all through yesterday, promising myself I'd open it 'tomorrow when I have time'.
Well, now it is tomorrow, and I've run out of excuses.
I drain my coffee, pick up the envelope, and slide my finger under its lip.
The envelope comes open easily, revealing several pages of the same neat and attractive handwriting that I had already come to recognize as belonging to Mom.
I open the letter and I begin to read.
Well done munchkin, you found it.
Just six words—and already I'm crying.
We always knew you'd find your way here. And when you did, you'd be ready.
My throat tightens. I can almost hear her voice, talking so directly to me across the twenty years or so since she sat down—perhaps on this very spot on the veranda—to write this letter to me.
It's like she's right here beside me. A ghost at my shoulder, but it's not a frightening presence that I feel—it's a loving one.
Reassuring. Making me feel safe. I read on.
There's so much I need to tell you, but I have so little time.
Tomorrow we leave for the city, and then it's off to Peru for another six weeks with the Amahuaca tribe.
There's so few of them left, after all the devastating logging that's gone on in the area.
It's terribly important that we learn as much about their culture and lifestyle as we can, whilst there's still time.
Your daddy's coming with me this time, so we'll be dropping you off with Aunty May and Uncle Roger like before.
We don't like to leave you behind my darling, but the Peruvian rainforest is no place for a four-year-old—even a very grown-up one like you—and this trip is so very important. So you see, my darling, we have to go.
That's Mom—always excited and passionate about her work.
And she shared that passion with her husband—my father—even though he was a lawyer and not a trained anthropologist. Although to be honest, he loved her so much that I think he would have followed her to the ends of the Earth even if he didn't share a passion for her work.
The first thing I need to tell you is about here—about the True Heart Lodge.
As I am sure you will know by now, Daddy and me came to this area because of my work as an anthropologist. The San Juan County area is very famous historically as being the home of the Ute.
I'd been given a grant to study and document their art, with a particular reference to the symbols they used.
Well, your daddy and I came here and, well…
we fell in love. We fell in love with the mountains and the lakes, we fell in love with the bears and the coyotes and the foxes and the deer, we fell in love with the Ute tribe and their closeness to and concern for the land…
and we fell in love with each other too.
Now I really am crying. How wonderful that time must have been for them, how incredible it must have been to be able to spend time together up here in the mountains, studying the Ute, whilst living a simple but fulfilling life surrounded by nature.
We made friends with many of the Ute, and we got very close to them over time. We ended up coming back, year after year, and then of course you were born, and we started to take you with us too. Perhaps you remember… I hope you do.
And I do remember. Not well, not like I can recall things perfectly.
But I have memories—a four-year-old's memories— of sounds, smells, and voices.
I remember my mother's laughter, I remember how my father always smelled of tobacco and licorice.
I remember the three of us swimming in the lake, laughing and splashing water.
And yes, I remember the Ute too. Brown, wrinkled faces, burned by the sun, strong, wide nostrils, and those clear, gray eyes—eyes that looked like they could see for a thousand miles or more.
Eyes that looked as if they could penetrate right inside you, expose every secret of your inner core.
Well, you see, munchkin, there was a man—a western man, I mean—who owned some land next to the Ute land. And this man was a bad man. He forged some documents and claimed that twenty acres or so of the Ute's land was his.
I stiffen. The True Heart Lodge land was about twenty acres in size, or thereabouts. Could Mom be talking about this land?
Now this little patch of land may sound small and insignificant—unimportant even. But to the Ute it was important, because on this land was Bear Lake, which was sacred to them, and there were three tall pines that they used in their Sundance ritual at summer solstice.
Yes! This must be the land where True Heart Lodge is. She describes it perfectly!
The elders of the Ute tribe knew that your daddy was a lawyer in the city, so they came to talk to him.
He listened to them, and he promised he would do his best to help them.
He worked long and hard, researching old archives, and checking statutes, and goodness knows what else—it's no good asking me because I didn't understand the half of what he told me.
But anyway, after about a year of preparation, it went to court, and the Ute won!
Apparently it had been a close-run thing, and the man was never charged with fraud because nothing could be proven. But here's a warning for you… if you ever bump into a man called Sinclair—do not trust him!
Sinclair? Oh my God… it was Mr. Sinclair who had tried to steal the True Heart Lodge land from the Ute all those years ago?
And now he's trying to buy it from me at a cut price rate, I think to myself.
If there was ever any remote possibility of me selling the land to him before, there was surely none whatsoever, now I know this!
But that didn't matter too much. What mattered is that Daddy helped the Ute to win their case, and they got to keep the land. Or that's what Daddy and I thought would happen, but you see, munchkin, that's not what happened after all.
I sit up, suddenly very interested. What on Earth else could have happened after this?
What the Ute did was give that same piece of land to us—to your daddy and me I mean.
Not only did they give us the land, but they built the lodge on it for us too, made out of the very cedars that surround us in this beautiful forest. Then they told us they were not giving it to us to keep for ourselves, but to keep it safe from harm in the future.
And they said we had to bequeath it to you, when you grew up.
To me? Why me?
What did this mean?
You see, one of the elders had a dream. He dreamed that Daddy and I would fly away on an eagle, and never return.
But he also dreamed that our baby—you, my darling—you would return, one day.
Maybe not straight away, but eventually.
And when you did, you would stay here and fall in love with the land, and look after it, and make it your own, and then it would be safe.
Oh my goodness. So, this piece of land that I had thought was what…
a simple vacation spot, a randomly selected place that could have been anywhere.
Now it turns out to be so much more. My eyes blur with tears as I set the letter down.
The lake ripples gently before me, the trees shimmering like something from a dream.
A sacred trust indeed. I breathe in deeply, letting it all out again in an almost audible sigh, as I turn my attention back to my mom's words.
And then they—the Ute I mean—invited us to their Sundance Ceremony and told us they wanted to perform the Ute marriage ceremony for us to be bonded not only in our Western marriage, but in a Ute marriage as well.
Well of course we were honored, and we agreed!
It was a few days until the summer solstice, so we prepared for the ceremony, and we were joined together in marriage for the second time.
You were there, munchkin, all dressed up in a Ute dress and sandals, with feathers in your hair. You looked beautiful—everybody said so.
Yes, yes! I do remember. Just vaguely. Being handed around and kissed a lot. Smiling faces, blessings. Songs…
Now you may not know this my dear, but part of the Ute marriage ceremony involves a vase—a very special wedding vase.
It's special because it has two necks, and a bridge that joins them together.
It's very symbolic. One neck stands for the bride, the other for the groom.
The bridge between them is the force that unites them together forever.
And the main body of the vase is the world in which they make their future life together.
During the ceremony, the bride and groom drink from the vase.
Then afterwards, they are given the vase, and they keep it as a sacred reminder of their bond.
I do vaguely recall seeing something like that in a museum somewhere, or perhaps in a magazine or something.
Well, my dear child, this letter has gone on long enough—too long perhaps.
There are so many things I want to say to you, Hailey, my dear, darling child…
so many things. About how much your mommy and daddy love you.
About how we loved to dress you, play with you, spend time with you, read you stories and sing you songs…
oh my heart breaks… but I must be strong.
You see, there is one more thing you have to know.
And this is the hardest thing to tell you, which I guess is why I have been putting off writing it.
But I cannot put it off any longer. You have to know.
Again I pause, coming up for air like a drowning swimmer. My emotions are almost too much to bear, but I must be strong and read on. If Mom could find the strength to write this, then I owe it to her to keep reading.
I take another deep breath and turn back to her words.
In a way, I've already told you. I already mentioned the dream the Ute elder had—how he saw Daddy and me fly away on an eagle, never to return. Well, this was before Daddy and I were due to fly to Peru. That's when we realized there was a very real chance we might never come back.
Some people might dismiss such a dream as fantasy.
But your daddy and I studied the Ute for years, and we couldn't take what they told us lightly.
We both felt there was a genuine chance something bad might happen.
Maybe it would, perhaps it wouldn't. If not—wonderful—we'd be picking you up from your aunt and uncle's in Aurora, and I could destroy this letter and we'd never speak of it again.
But just in case we didn't come back… just in case the elder's vision came true… we took precautions.
I'm sobbing now—deep, aching sobs that shake my whole body. I remember the days and weeks after their deaths—blurry, but sharp around the edges, brittle as glass.
I was only four. Too young to understand. I remember people being so kind. Uncle Roger holding me close. Aunt May smiling through tears. Presents—toys, games, special treats meant to distract me. Adults whispering, watching me like I might break.
And me? I was confused. I knew Mommy and Daddy had gone away. People told me they weren't coming back, but I couldn't grasp it. I'd done something wrong. They didn't love me enough. Maybe I hadn't loved them enough.
Eventually, the icy sharpness of the loss dulled. But the loss itself? Never.
And the guilt? Faded—yes. But gone? No. That stayed. It haunted me all the way to this day.
So we took everything we had and buried it.
You're a clever girl—your mommy's and your daddy's girl—and I know you'll follow the clues.
When you find the vase, perhaps you could set it back in its place—for Daddy and me. In the lodge, I mean. Let it be both a gift from us to you, our beloved daughter, and a symbol of everything we cherished: the Ute, the mountains, the land… and most of all, you.
Alongside the vase you'll find everything else we owned. It's not much, but something tells me you'll need it—and that you'll know exactly what to do with it.
What else could this be? A legacy, yes. But the vase itself—that alone is enough to stir something deep in me. Of course I must find it, and set it in its rightful place in the cabin. That is the very least I can do.
A sacred trust.
There's that phrase again—and I feel it now. Deep inside.
A sacred trust not just to my mom and dad… but to the land itself.
Now, finally, I know where I belong.
I know who I am.
I know where I came from.
And most of all —
I know what I was born to do.