True Colors

“I’m wise to you, you know,” she said when they were done, resting her back on the mossy nurse log behind them.

He pulled out his pocketknife and began idly carving a heart in the tree’s ridged bark. “Oh, really?”

“I’ve told you everything there is to know about me and you haven’t told me a thing. Every time I ask you a question you kiss me.”

“That’s all that matters.” He carved his initials, then began on hers.

“But it isn’t. We’re married now. I have to be able to answer questions about you.”

“Are we signed up for The Newlywed Game or something?”

“Don’t make a joke. I’m serious.”

He finished the carving and put down his knife, looking at her finally. “If you saw someone standing on the edge of a cliff and you thought they were going to jump, what would you say?”

“I’d tell them to back away before they got hurt.”

“Step back, Vivi.”

“How can it hurt me to know you?”

“You might not like what you find out.”

“You have to trust me, Dallas, or we won’t be able to make this thing work.”

“Okay,” he said after a long silence. “Ask your questions.”

“Where were you born?”

“Big surprise: Dallas, Texas. My mom and dad met at a diner down there. She was living on the reservation with her sister.”

“What’s her name?”

“Her real name was Laughs Like the Wind. Her husband called her Mary. She’s dead now.”

“And your dad?”

“Alive.”

She touched the scars on his chest. In the fading light, they looked silvery, like skeins of broken fishing line embedded in his flesh. “How did you get these?”

“Electrical cords and cigarettes. The old man didn’t like to look for weapons.”

Vivi Ann flinched at that. “And your mom, did she—”

“That’s enough for now,” he said quietly. “How about we talk about something that really matters?” he asked when she leaned against him.

“Like?” She stared up through lacy evergreen fronds at slices of the purple sky.

“Winona.”

Vivi Ann sighed. They might not have talked about this in the past few days, but she’d thought about it. “She couldn’t stand what we—what I was doing to Luke and she snapped. Win’s always been a very black-and-white, right-and-wrong girl. I know I should be mad at her, and I am, but in the end, she helped me. How can I stay mad at someone when I’m married to you?”

“So you want to go back,” he said.

“It’s where I belong,” she said quietly. “Where I want you and our children to belong.”

“It won’t be easy. People will talk.”