Chapter 51
“You … are Melonie.”
(Ó
2010)
(continued from the Prologue)
June 2040
The Cemetery Southwest of Paris
“What does it mean Mom?” Colleen asked. She was cradling her mothers head onto her shoulder, giving comfort and drying her eyes. “That line there, that ‘Scowls Like The Wolf’, what does that mean?”
Melanie lifted her head and looked towards the headstone of Logan Morrow. She took the tissue from her eldest daughter, dried her tears, dabbed her nose and sniffed, “It was his name,” she answered, “it was his Lakota name.”
“Lakota name?” Colleen asked inquisitively.
“Yes, he told me about it when we were kids.” Melonie said, now sitting up straight. “I told you before, he was so proud of his Indian heritage. He was given that name by his family in South Dakota, they even had some sort of ceremony when they gave it to him.” A smile came to her face from a memory of long ago. “I remember, how sometimes, when we would be at the park, he would stand on one of the picnic tables or climb up one of the trees. He would pound on his chest and say in a manly voice, ‘I am Scowls Like The Wolf, a mighty Sioux warrior.’ It would make me laugh.”
“Well,” Colleen said, “from the credentials I see on his grave marker, and from what I’ve read in his book,” she held up the copy of ‘ON TWO FRONTS’, “it would seem that, well that is exactly what he was, a mighty warrior.”
“Yes, a mighty warrior,” Melonie said, then she looked over to Lily’s grave, “with a broken heart.”
Melonie then felt the hands of her eldest son, James, on her shoulders, “You okay Ma?”
“Yes, yes dear,” Melonie replied patting the hand of her son, “it’s just, the shock I felt when Luke said Brent’s name to me that night, and now I see his Lakota name. I almost completely forgot about that. You see, his mother was the only one who would call him that. He let me call him by that name. We were the only ones that he allowed to do so outside of his family on Sioux the reservation.”
Her entire family entourage now gathered close around her and listened as she spoke.
“I stayed in contact with his family there for some years while I was in the Navy. His grandfather would tell me of how sad his grandmother was. He she missed ‘Scowls Like The Wolf’. How she wondered where he was, and how he was getting along. His grandfather would tell me of how, every day and every night, how she would go out to the open prairie an do the ‘Alo Wanpi’, I believe he called it. It meant that she would ‘sing’ for him. A prayer ceremony. She would sing to ‘The Six Powers’, ‘The Six Grandfathers’ the great spirits, of how she would face every direction and sing to them, for them to protect and watch over her grandson, Scowls Like The Wolf.
Her great-grandchildren now stepped in front of her, she opened her arms to give them a group hug.
“In one of the last letters that I got from Brent’s grandfather,” Melonie continued, “he said that she swore that she would continue the singing until Scowls Like The Wolf came home to them, she would do it until the day she died if she had to.” She then looked to all of them, “I believe that’s exactly what happened, she sang for him until the day she died.”
A quiet moment came to all of them, all that was heard was the typical soothing sounds of the morning.
“I wonder what she was like.” James said, “I mean, look, she died when she was so young, and I’ve heard the story about him from the locals. He came here everyday.”
“There’s a whole chapter about her in this book,” Colleen said, “and you should read it. I guarantee it Jimmy, when you do, even the tough ex-Colonel Jimmy Church of the U.S. Army will choke up and shed a tear.”
“She had to be remarkable,” Melonie said, “for him to dedicate his life to her so, even after her death. I read of her too, she loved him so … unconditionally.” She took in a deep sigh, “What did he say in his letter to the Police? About how he hoped that someone came along to give me a good life? Well, you’re father did. I do feel somewhat guilty being here, to see the grave of my first love. But, your father was the love of my life. He healed the hurt caused by Brent’s disappearance. If he were alive today, he would of brought me here, I know it.”
She looked around to her family and they were all nodding in agreement.
“This woman here, Lily, she was the love of Brent’s life. Brent and I both showed each other what love was when we were young, but John made me live in love, and I believe Lily did the same for Brent.”
Her family again nodded. They again stood in some moments of silence.
Luke, Melonie’s grandson, looked down to the grass of Lily’s grave. He pointed to the hat pins with the lavender ribbons. “I wonder what that’s all about.” He said. “Look, aren’t those the same symbol that’s on the top of his headstone?”
“That’s the symbol of the French Foreign Legion,” James said, “they must have been placed there by those two Legionnaires who were here. Why they are attached to the ribbon, I don’t know. But, I got to know some of those guys in the Gulf War, and I know that Legionnaires don’t do anything like this without some sort of meaning behind it.”
Another moment of silence came to them, then Colleen asked, “So what do you want to do now Mom?”
“I don’t know,” Melonie said, “this is all still so strange, it’s hard to explain. It’s like,” she placed her hand on her chest, over her heart, “it’s like having a small, dull pain, right here. It doesn’t hurt, and it doesn’t bother you. It’s a thing you’ve learned to live with. Then one day, ‘poof’, it goes away.”
“I think I understand.” Colleen said.
“Seventy years.” Melonie sighed, “I had that little dull pain for seventy years. For the strangest reason, I feel so happy, I feel so fulfilled.” She looked around to her family, “You know, I’ve never thought of myself as a spiritual person, but for some reason, I can feel something.”
“What’s that Grandma?” Luke asked.
“I feel not only very happy and fulfilled,” she answered, “but I feel Brent and Lily’s happiness. I feel as if they are both together now, with each other, after a long wait, just like the one I just experienced. They are together … with each other … for eternity.”
Colleen smiled and put her arm around her mother.
“Oh, I don’t know dear,” Melonie said, “this has also been the most strangest past ten months of my life. I’m just rambling I guess. But, I don’t know what I would like to do right now. It’s just, well, after seventy years, is this how it closes? I just visit his grave, then go home? I don’t know. After seven decades, I would like to maybe just sit here … just a little longer more.”
“We understand ma, just take all the time you need.” James said.
She turned up her head and smiled at her son, she then looked around to the scenery, “It is beautiful here isn’t it?” She asked. “I mean for a cemetery and all, it is so beautiful here. It’s so peaceful, so serene. The way their graves have been done, it just beautiful.”
“I’m beginning to see what you mean mom,” Colleen said, “about the spiritual thing you said. I’m not only feeling the happiness you spoke of, but something else too.”
“What’s that dear?”
“I feel … the love.”
The family of the late John Church gathered closer to their mother. They stood there, facing the gravesite of the Legionnaire and his beloved. They listened as their mother spoke of her reminiscences of her childhood sweetheart and her days back in her little hometown of Ypsilanti, Michigan.
They were there for some time, close to an hour, when during one of the silent interludes, Melonie’s second eldest son Ethan, who was standing behind the family turned around to see an elderly African woman standing right behind them.
It was as if she appeared from nowhere. The African woman looked as though she were in her late sixties, with silver hair. She too was wearing a sun dress, but it was in earth tone shades. She had in her hand two roses tied together with a lavender ribbon. She just stood there … silent … smiling at Ethan.
Ethan smiled back to her and nodded his head to her as to say hello.
“Bonjour.” The African woman said.
“Hi, how are you?” Ethan replied, he then turned to his brother James. “Jim? Col? I think there’s another visitor here.”
Everyone turned around to see the smiling face of the elderly African woman. She began to speak to them in French. It seemed as if she were asking them all a question.
“Excusez-moi, mais, avez-vous connu notre Logan ?” The African woman asked.
“Mom?” Colleen asked, “Do you know what she’s saying?”
Melonie stood up and turned to the African woman, the woman asked what seemed to be the same question.
“She’s asking us if we knew him.” Melonie said, “She’s asking us if we knew ‘our Logan’, as she puts it.”
“Tell her ma.” James said, “Tell her you did.”
The family parted so that the African woman could see her when she answered.
Melonie answered in French, “Oui, je l'ai connu. Mais c'était il y a un long temps, quand il était un garçon, arrière en Amérique.” Saying that she knew him, but it was a long time ago, when he was a boy back in America.
The old African woman looked at her as she spoke, the whole time with the smile on her face. After Melonie spoke her answer, the African woman’s smile slightly altered. She then had a slight look of confusion come to her face, as if something bizarre was happening before her. She then squinted her eyes at Melonie, and took a step forward. She looked at Melonie’s face, studied it, and as she did, she looked as if some sort of recognition was coming about.
She began to slowly come forward to Melonie, … then she froze in her steps. The African woman gasped and covered her mouth with her free hand. Her hand then slowly slid down and away from her face. Her mouth was agape, she looked stunned and completely surprised. Her hand then rested on her chest and everyone watched as it rose up and down from her sudden heavy breathing.
The African woman then began once again to step slowly towards Melonie, then the hand that rested on her chest now lifted up and became a trembling pointing finger.
“You!” The African woman exclaimed, pointing the trembling finger at Melonie. “You!”
The African woman came closer to her, now with tears forming in her eyes.
“You.” She said again, this time in a somewhat calmer tone as she stepped right up to her.
The African woman, now just inches from her, her hand then changes from a pointing finger to a relaxed open palm. The African woman then began to caress Melonie’s face.
“You.” The African woman said again sighing, then smiling to her, “You … are Melonie.”
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