Parental Advisory Rating: L, AC

Break out those V-Chips, everyone!

Credits:

Created, Produced, Directed and Written:

Fanatic and TNovan

I am heading toward Cuba.

Not Fidel’s Cuba and not on a story about Elián Gonzalez. The world does not need another story about that poor, little boy.

Nope, I’m headed toward Cuba, New Mexico.

Which, according to the map I have unfolded across the dashboard is eighty miles to the north and slightly west of Albuquerque. Approximately ten miles south of Cuba is the Coyote Lake Navajo Indian Reservation and the locale for our next story.

Encompassing thirty-five square miles, the reservation is the home to approximately sixty members of the Navajo Nation, with another one hundred who live in nearby Cuba. Most of those moved off the reservation for work and educational opportunities for their kids. Although Cuba is no bustling metropolis, its economy is in better shape than the reservation’s.

It’s for that very reason I’m headed there.

Geo-Tech has made the tribe an offer which has proven too good to turn down. Geo-Tech is one of the largest alternative energy companies in the United States, headquartered in Denver and with a presence throughout the entire Southwest. Its primary focus is nuclear energy and it runs several such power plants in Arizona, Nevada and Utah. While people like its relative inexpensiveness, no one wants the waste it generates. Seems no one is desperate enough to accept the large financial incentive to store the used rods except the Coyote Lake tribe.

This has led to claims of environmental racism. I’m here to try to sort this whole mess out and see what the story is.

I miss Kels already.

She was insatiable Saturday. God, I don’t know what got into her. Whatever it was, I like it. A lot. I just gotta remember to drink more fluids.

Oh, don’t go there, Harper. It’s gonna be a long week as it is. I hate being away from her and our babies.

Babies. Twins.

Wow.

Two of everything. Two first smiles. Two first steps. Two first words. Two first dates. And two first kisses.

Oh, Lord, please don’t let me have two daughters. I don’t know if my poor heart can stand it. Two boys would be more my speed. I could handle them. I understand them. I mean, really, what’s there to understand?

But then I’d miss getting to see a little one who reminds me of Kels. I want a little towheaded, green-eyed girl. That way one day some lucky girl – or boy –will get to feel about her the way I feel about her mother.

At least my swearing will fund both of their college educations.

* * *

The phone rings again in my ear. I glance over at the picture on my desk. "Miss you, Tabloid. Throwing up just isn’t the same without you."

"Hill."

I clear my throat and take a deep breath. "Beth, it’s Kels."

"Well, hello, stranger! I’ve been wondering if you were ever gonna get around to giving me a call."

"I’ve been so busy. You aren’t even going to believe it." Now there’s an understatement. I have a feeling my dear friend it going to have a stroke when she hears why I’m calling her. I can tell by the tone in her voice it’s not for what she’s thinking it is.

"Yeah, actually, I would. I know how it is getting settled into a new job. The move from the coast must have been a real bitch."

I smile, thinking about how nasty it would have been if Harper hadn’t been with me. I don’t think I would have taken the job if it had meant leaving her. "No, it was really nice to get out of L.A. The job came at a time when I really needed it."

"I know, sweetheart. Everything okay now?"

I actually pull back the phone and stare at it. No everything is not ‘okay’ now. You don’t get over some like this as if it were the flu. Returning the phone to my ear I draw a deep breath. "I’m getting through it. Listen I need to make an appointment…"

"No, you don’t. Just tell me where you want me to take you to dinner." Was Beth always this aggressive?

"No, Beth, this is a professional call." There won’t be any more personal calls. "I need to change my will and set up some new trusts."

A slight, surprised pause. "We can talk about it over dinner."

"No. No, Beth, we can’t. There have been some serious changes in my life and, well, we aren’t going to be able to see each other any more."

A definite surprised pause now. "Well, that is serious."

"In fact, I’m getting married and I’m pregnant." May as well tell her everything. It’ll help strengthen my argument for why we won’t be meeting together any more.

"Jesus Christ!" Beth explodes. "Kelsey, what in the hell…"

I wonder how well she would handle a swear jar. I bet, not as well as Harper. "Beth, don’t yell."

"Sorry." Her voice drops a bit. "What in the hell happened? Married? Pregnant? To whom and when are you due?"

"Harper Kingsley and December 14th."

"Harper Kingsley? The Harper Kingsley whose name you didn’t want me to even mention? Damn, Kels, the last time I saw you…"

"Yeah," I interrupt. I don’t want to hear about my past. There’s too much pain there. I want to focus on the future. My future with Harper. "I know but things change. I’m in love, Beth. Be happy for me."

"I am, sweetheart." Beth takes a deep breath and I can hear her shuffle some papers on her desk. "I am a little shocked. I guess I never saw you settling down with anyone. And I most certainly never pictured you having children." She clears her throat and I can tell the next thing she’s planning on saying must be awkward. I know Beth though. She’ll go ahead and say it. We’ve never held much back from one another. "What happened? Did you get pregnant when that guy…"

"Do the math, Beth. If I’m due in December, it didn’t happen until March. So I wasn’t raped." Thank God for that. "This was a planned pregnancy."

"Well, good. Okay, now that my initial shock is over, why don’t we go out to dinner? As friends," she amends quickly. "And we can talk over the changes you want done."

The thought of going out with Beth doesn’t thrill me. I don’t want to risk someone seeing us and Harper getting an erroneous report about what was going on. Not that Harper doesn’t trust me, but why give her a reason to have to? "Hmm, I’m really swamped at work right now. The show keeps me extremely busy. Harper and I are getting started on a new story and I need to do a lot of research here right now."

"I could come to your place," Beth offers.

Oh no! No way, no how, am I letting her come to our home without Harper being there. "Tell you what, it’s easier to catch me at the office."

"All right then. How’s tomorrow around two?"

"Works for me."

"I’ll see you then." I drop the receiver back onto the cradle. I rest my arms and head on my desk, staring at my picture with Harper. "Boy, do I miss you. Why don’t you give me a call? I’ll even put the phone on my stomach so you can talk to the babies."

* * *

I climb out of the Blazer and stretch my legs. Flying eight hours to Albuquerque – three and half to Dallas, one and a half to Albuquerque, one hour layover and a two hour time change - and driving another hour sure makes them hurt. Even First Class doesn’t take the sting out of the trip. I walk around for a few minutes and take in a deep breath of New Mexico air. Fresh, unlike the air found in my new hometown, and flavored with more than a hint of pine. There are lots of evergreen trees around here, surprising me. I’d always pictured New Mexico as a desert. Seeing how I’m at an elevation of over seven thousand feet and surrounded by National Forests, I guess I was wrong.

I approach a small building by the roadside. It’s labeled "Navajo Cultural Center" and it is my entry point onto the reservation. A young woman is waiting for me out on the porch, I assume it’s Cora Bingil, the tribal spokesperson, whom I spoke to while flying out here. She pushes herself away from the beam she was leaning against and runs her hands over her jeans. She’s about Kelsey’s height, but has a fuller build, not heavy, just solid. Her long black hair is braided simply down her back. She is wearing blue jeans, a flannel shirt and a leather jacket. She smiles broadly and extends her hand to me. "Harper Kingsley?"

I take her hand. She has a firm grip and a strong shake. I like her. Nothing worse than dead fish handshakes, especially from women. "That’s right. Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Bingil."

She laughs, her voice low. "That is much too formal. I am Cora. Welcome to our home. I trust you had no problem finding us."

"Not at all. Your directions were very easy to follow. I appreciate your willingness to meet with me." I only called her on Sunday afternoon, seeing how Kels kept me quite occupied on Saturday. All day.

"Meet with you? We want you to live here, Harper. We want anyone who is willing to learn and tell our side of this tragedy."

I nod. "That’s what I’m here to do. I want to know everything about what’s been going on with the storage issue."

She motions toward the sky. "Sun will set soon. Why don’t we take a quick tour and I’ll fill you in the background?"

"Sounds great. Do you want to take my Blazer?"

Cora shakes her head. "No. I bet my truck has better shocks. Or at least ones that are used to our land." She points to a parking area behind the building. "You can park over there."

Damn, I hate not driving.

* * *

Cora’s pickup is a battered ‘83 Ford filled with more dust than upholstery. She doesn’t seem to notice it, but I bet my black jeans will be brown by the time I get out. I guess the desert relocated to her truck, that’s why there’s none outside.

The truck rumbles to life and we start down a paved road into the heart of the reservation. "Our reservation is home to sixty Navajo, representing six of the clans; there are about a hundred of our nation living in the surrounding areas."

"Clans?" I echo.

"The Diné are organized into clans based on the four original ones born to Changing Woman." At my confused expression, she backs up. "We don’t refer to ourselves as Navajo. We are simply the Diné, the people. Clans are one of the most important aspects of our nation’s life. We are taught that Changing Woman believed there should be more people in the world so she rubbed some skin from her breast, her back and from under both arms. From each of those rubbings came one of the first four clans. Today there are over eighty clans in our Nation. They help us identify one another and maintain important relations."

"What clan are you?"

"Let me qualify that the Navajo Nation follows a matriarchal lineage, much like, I believe, the Jewish people. So, the clan name I give is my mother’s clan, but it is said that I was born for my father’s clan. So, I am of the Bít’ahnii clan, which means the Folding Arms People, and I was born for the Tótsóhnii – or the Big Water - clan."

"Interesting." I remember that the votes were divided between those who live on the reservation and those who live in the nearby town. "Do those of your clan," I struggle to remember how she pronounced it, "the Bítalani, oppose the waste storage?"

She smiles. "Very good for a non-Diné. It’s Bít’ahnii. And, yes, my family is against this desecration."

"Are the clans divided by the issue? Is that part of the problem?"

Cora sighs. "Unfortunately, yes. It is stirring up a lot of bad blood and sometimes I worry about what will happen."

"Do you think violence will take place?"

"Violence to our spirit. But, not, I believe, to our bodies." We drive past several crumbling houses as we drive further out along the road. Cora must see me looking at them because she offers an explanation. "Those are hogans, our traditional homes."

"You don’t have tornadoes here, do you?"

"No, why do you -" she catches herself. "You’re wondering why they’re falling down. Those were abandoned by their families, most likely because someone died in them. The Diné won’t live in a home touched by death that way. When a member of our nation dies, their personal possessions are burned. If they die in the house, the house is left to decay."

"So where do people die?"

Cora smiles indulgently. "At a hospital. Just like your people."

I shake my head. "Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like an ass. Just happens sometimes." I sigh. "At least, that’s what my future wife tells me."

* * *

I told Brian I was expecting my attorney so he is quick to show Beth in when she arrives. He pulls my door closed behind her. I know we won’t be interrupted now. He has that look on his face. Somehow he always seems to know what’s really important to me.

Beth drops her coat and briefcase on the couch before turning around and facing me, hands on her hips. "Now, little missy, get over here and give me a hug."

I rise from behind my desk and do just that. She has been my friend for too long to change that. When we part, we sit on the couch and get comfortable. Well, not too comfortable. We’re sitting at opposite ends of it and I deliberately put one of the pillows between us. Just a little blockade. A friendly reminder this is only a friendly visit.

There’s a knock on the door and Brian enters with a tray. I nod my thanks as he sets the coffee and my juice down.

"Anything else, boss?"

"No, thanks. Just…"

He holds up a hand, looking like one of the Supremes about to belt out ‘Stop In The Name of Love’. I fight to not burst out laughing as I imagine him in a tight sequin gown. "Hold all your calls unless they’re from St…Harper." He makes a silly face at having nearly slipped with the nickname. "I’ve kept your calendar clear for the rest of the day." He smiles at Beth and leaves us alone.

"Wow! He’s good." Beth watches the door close. She, better than anyone, knows the value of a good assistant. She’s gone through a million of them.

"He’s mine. Hands off!" I tease, pouring her a cup of coffee.

"We’ll see," she mock threatens. Beth pulls her briefcase onto her lap and retrieves a file. "What are we doing here?"

"Basically, I need to rewrite my will and set up trust funds for the kids."

"Kids? Kelsey, how many are you planning on having?"

I chuckle. "I had hoped to have at least two before it became difficult to do so. But we got lucky and I’m having twins."

Her jaw drops. "When you do something, you do it all the way, don’t you?"

"You’ve always known that about me, Beth." I take a sip of my juice, trying to hide a grin behind it. I certainly went all the way for her in college. God, that seems like ages ago.

"True." She sighs a bit. "Okay, God, let me get a grip on this." She takes a cleansing breath. "I assume you’ll be removing Erik from your will as your only heir."

I nod, my throat suddenly tight and constricted. I would give anything to have him still around, still healthy, still happy. Will it ever not hurt to think about him? Finally, I manage, "You got all the papers from his estate, I assume."

She nods, pulling out another file. "He left the bulk of everything to you. There was a twenty thousand dollar endowment to an AIDS foundation and a twenty thousand dollar inheritance to his cousin Patrick."

"Have my accountant cut Patrick a check for the rest. He needs it and I surely don’t. The only thing I want are the pictures, videos and his movie posters." I blink back tears. "Even the bad ones." I wish there were going to be more of them too. "Have him send a matching donation to the foundation from me in Erik’s memory, as well."

She makes a note. "Done. Now what?"

"It’s pretty simple really. Harper is my heir. I’ll be leaving everything to her, except for some trusts set up for our children, and I want her to be my executor. I also want her to have my full power of attorney. We already drew up a health care proxy while I was in the hospital in California, but if that needs to be updated I want you to do that as well. Okay, the trusts should be set up as …."

"Whoa!" Beth reaches over and clasps my forearm tightly, bringing me to a halt. "Kels, you can’t just give Harper power of attorney."

I stop in mid breath. "Excuse me?"

"It needs to be limited and shouldn’t include anything financial. You can set up a joint account for household expenditures easily enough. Otherwise she could clean you out if the relationship starts to go bad."

"That’s not going to happen."

"I know you hope it won’t and right now…"

"It’s not going to happen." I state again, louder and more forcefully, trying to close the subject.

"Kelsey, you’re worth a small fortune."

"Beth, I want no limitations on what Harper can get to. She has my absolute trust. I won’t have her told otherwise in any way, shape or form."

Beth shuffles her papers several times. She is clearly annoyed right now. "Let me work with the accountant and set up the financials so this doesn’t keep me up nights."

I am annoyed now. "It’s not keeping me up nights. I have no earthly idea why it bothers you."

"When was the last time you sat down and looked at one of your financial statements? Out of curiosity, do you even read the reports I send you every quarter?"

I hang my head, chagrined. "I don’t know. A year, year and a half maybe."

"God!" She groans and drops her head. "You’ve always been so damn bad when it comes to money."

After two hours of listening to her groan and grumble, I finally make all of my requests very clear. She leaves with Robie’s number so she can confer with him and get all my personal papers in line with Harper’s. I also told her that I want to start adoption proceedings for Harper and the babies as soon as possible after their birth. We will be a family. In every sense of the word.

My one concession to her is she will be allowed to protect the trust fund my father set up for me when I was born. A trust fund I’ve never touched. I didn’t want his money growing up and I don’t foresee wanting it any time in the future. So she can protect that sucker all she wants. Makes no difference to me. Besides, Harper would want it to go to the children anyway.

* * *

"This is the site," Cora announces, sweeping her hand toward a large, flat expanse of earth.

Once we cleared a rise on the road, we dropped several hundred feet in elevation and came to this place. While not desert, it is certainly not the wooded land we were just traveling through to get here. There is a flat expanse of land devoid of trees. Heavy equipment is scattered about, the foundation of the storage facility already begun.

"In 1990, the Office of Nuclear Waste approached the various nations, trying to find one to volunteer to temporarily store spent fuel rods. Most were wise enough to ignore the overtures. Bill Yates, our tribal president, submitted an application and he and the council members who sided with him began gathering information. When the federal government gave us a grant of one hundred thousand dollars to gather more data, suddenly, Bill had a lot more supporters. And his supporters had better homes."

I nod. "Money does that."

"We don’t believe that the site is safe. The geological survey conducted showed several earthquake fault lines running through it. And we’re only fifteen miles from the Rio Grande Rift Valley from this location, which leads to concerns about groundwater contamination. Now, Bill’s sock puppet scientist claims the faults are inactive. But, we had our own geologist study the surveys. Dana believes there is a credible claim that these faults are younger and larger than the government and Geo-Tech say. We are in the Rift Zone which is separating a bit more every year. Rifting is evidenced by high heat flow, that’s why New Mexico has so many hot springs. I mean," she shakes her head sadly, "these rods are deadly for the next ten thousand years. One accident, one quake, one shift of the earth, and we can cause the death of those who will follow us in exchange for sixty jobs. Sixty jobs. Not to mention the destruction of holy ground."

"Can I meet Dana? We’ll need to interview her for our story."

"Of course. She’s close, in Los Alamos."

I mentally smack my forehead. "That’s near here, isn’t it?" God, no wonder they’re worried about radiation poisoning. The goddamn nuclear age started right in their own backyard.

* * *

Cora is serious about wanting me to live on the reservation. Given how tired I am and how late it’s grown, I acquiesce. She and her family live in a small house not far from the highway. Her husband, Johnny, is a tall, slender man who wears more turquoise than I’ve ever seen on one human being before. It’s all set in silver and very carefully crafted. They have two children, both boys, with hair so dark it shines on the top of their heads. The boys are respectful and polite. The eldest shows me to the guest room, which, I realize upon entering, is their bedroom. I pick up a Pokémon card. "Which one is this?"

He looks at it briefly and then looks at me as if I must be stupid. "Mewtwo. Only one of the hardest cards to find."

I am so glad that Clark and Christian don’t seem to care about this little craze. "You’re lucky to have it then, eh?"

He shrugs and plucks the card out of my hand. "I suppose. Do you play?"

I shake my head sadly. "No. Didn’t even see the movie."

"There’ll be more."

Why does that remind me of the line ‘they’re back’ from Poltergeist II? "This is true. Thanks for letting me use your room tonight."

"You’re welcome. Good night." And he and Mewtwo leave.

I pull my cell phone out of my bag. Come on, please let there be reception out here. I punch in the speed dial for our home and press send. It seems to be going through. Good sign. And fuck roaming charges. Langston will pay for them. I dial home and sigh when I hear her voice. "Hi, chér," I whisper. I glance at my watch. It’s nearly ten o’clock her time.

"I love you and miss you," Kels says in response.

I fold my hands over my stomach as I stretch out on the bed. "What? No hello?" I tease gently. Those are wonderful opening lines in my book.

"No, no hello." She teases back a bit. "I knew it would be you. No one else would call me at this hour."

That’s true. "Well, I miss you something fierce. I have a painful envie, as my Mama would say. It gets worse each time I have to leave you." Who would have ever thought I would feel this way about anyone? Certainly not me. I picture Kels propped up in our bed. Her blonde hair slightly rumpled, her green eyes a shade darker in the evening. I wish I were there right now. "How are you feeling?"

"Pregnant. I miss our morning ritual. It’s not the same without you."

I join in her laughter. "That’s the only thing I didn’t miss this morning."

"So that’s how you are, eh? I send you out on the road and you conveniently forget your end of the barfing bargain? Tsk tsk." She pauses and I hear her roll over on the bed. "I think I’m going to start showing early, Tabloid. You sure you’re gonna love me when I’m fat?"

Hmm. That was said with a laugh, but, somehow, I don’t think it was a joke. Let’s try to get this one right the first time out. "I find you to be the most incredibly desirable woman on the face of this planet, Little Roo. And, you are even more so because you’re having our babies. I can’t wait to see you grow with them, because it means that they are doing well, and are healthy, and they’re a part of you. My God, I was thinking how I wished I was home with you so we could have a repeat of Saturday."

"Hmm …" she purrs, sending a thrill up my spine but down to other parts. "Saturday was inspiring, to say the least. I hope you had a good time. I wanted to keep you happy until I can get to wherever you are. By the way, where are you? And why are you whispering?"

"I’m whispering because Pikachu might hear me otherwise. And, I am in Ash’s headquarters, I think."

"That’s as clear as mud, darling. Thanks."

"Sorry. I’m on the reservation and being hosted by Cora and her family. Her boys are Pokémon addicts and I’m staying in their room. That’s why I’m whispering." Though Cora’s silence when I mentioned ‘my future wife’ earlier today has me puzzled. I’m not sure if it was shocked silence or simple acceptance. Oh well, I’m sure I’ll find out later. Now, on to important matters. "How are the twins?"

Another throaty laugh. "So far, I’m not getting any complaints about the accommodations. They seem very content. But, I think they miss your talks with them."

I’d be pleased with the accommodations too if I were them. Hell knows, I like to visit there often enough. Don’t go there, Harper. Well, I mean, go there. But, don’t go there now. Why be frustrated? "Put me on with them then."

"Okay. You got a minute, Tabloid. I’m timing you."

I hear the phone being moved and, I assume, settled on her tummy. "Hi, Baby Roos, it’s Mama. I want you to know how much I miss you both right now. I’d be at home with you, if I could. Now, I want you both to behave while I’m gone. You be nice to your Mom. Don’t make her throw up all the time. And let her get a little rest, ok? We’re gonna need all the sleep we can get before you both arrive. We love you. I want that to be the one thing you always know."

I hear the phone get moved again. "Did you tell them to behave?" Kels asks.

"First thing."

"Good. So when am I coming out?"

"Of the closet? Honey, you’re out to me." Straight, my ass, echoes through my mind. Seems like a lifetime ago it first crossed my mind. "But, if you mean here, probably in a few days."

She groans. "You’re so predictable, Tabloid. Good thing I love you."

"It’s not a good thing, Little Roo, it’s the best thing." Amen to that. "Now, you, my gorgeous, pregnant fiancée, need to get some sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know how things are going down here. You play nice with the other kids at work tomorrow, okay? Except with Bruce. You have my permission to kick him in the nuts. Ah, shit, do I owe you a buck for that?"

"No, not for ‘nuts’. But, yes for the other."

"Can’t slip a thing past you."

"No, you can’t and don’t even try."

I won’t, baby. Don’t worry about that. "Goodnight and sweet dreams."

"Goodnight, sweetheart. We miss you and we’re thinking of you. Be safe."

We both linger on the phone, despite our goodbyes being said. Finally, reluctantly, I press ‘end’, mostly so Kels will get some sleep tonight. If I had my way, I’d sleep with the damn phone on just so I can hear her breathe through the night.

Langston would stroke out on that bill.

Why that’s almost enough incentive to try.

* * *

Morning finds me with Cora and the rest of the tribal representatives who are against the nuclear storage facility. The mood in the room is tense due to the continued construction taking place only a few miles away on their land.

Jason Shorthill, an elderly man whose hair is completely devoid of any gray, clutches his coffee mug tightly. He’s angry and the vein at his temple is throbbing in time with his emotion. "This is about a lack of respect. The federal government has never respected the people of this land. Every treaty has been broken, every trust has been violated. They took our land, killed our people, caged us on these reservations, used our men to dig out poisonous minerals from the land which they used to kill millions, and now they want to bury the poison on our sacred ground."

Cora amends, "They are burying the poison here. They don’t just want to, they have a signed agreement."

"A signed agreement with people who are not our own anymore. They show the greatest disrespect. They have no principles. Do you know where they voted to put the storage containers? To the east of our burial ground. To the east! Every morning the sun rises on the spirits of our ancestors through a poisonous haze."

Martin Deggs shrugs. "The young are often that way."

"Bill isn’t young," Cora counters.

"But most of his clan is. The real problem with the facility is that it isn’t temporary. The agreement says it is only for twenty-five years, but, I believe when the term is over Geo-Tech and/or the government will find a reason for the rods to not be removed. No company will walk away from an investment of one hundred and twenty-five million dollars."

"They’ll cite public safety or some crap like that," Jason agrees, swallowing down another mouthful of coffee. "Of course, our safety means nothing to them. Poison the Navajo, kill us all. It’s an old pattern. How many of our men did we lose in the forties? My clan lost almost its entire generation. They used us as human canaries in mines with no ventilation, rotted out our men’s lungs. They had no safety concerns then. Not a damn one!"

I make a few notes to follow up on the history of the Navajo. The continuing abuse of the original people of our land is disgusting. Maybe I can change Mama’s focus from the Committee for Same Sex Marriages to Native American Rights. They’d never have a better advocate. "The agreement is that the tribe will store up to four thousand casks of spent nuclear rods for up to 25 years, right? How much compensation will the tribe receive, outside of the jobs created?"

"Two hundred fifty million."

"Jesus," I say before I can censor myself. No wonder the majority of the tribe agreed. Over one third of Native Americans live in poverty, compared to ten percent of the rest of the American population. How could two hundred impoverished people turn down ten million dollars a year in income? All they have to be is willing to die for the money.

* * *

I drive to Santa Fe. I made a call to Karen Landers, a New Mexico state senator, and she agreed to meet me. She has been working with Cora trying to somehow keep Geo-Tech off the reservation lands.

Santa Fe is a beautiful town, dominated by Pueblo and territorial style architecture. I recall reading on the plane that there is a law in the city that all buildings downtown must be designed that way. Prominent in the city is the state legislature, a round building which houses the governor, lieutenant governor, secretary of state, the senate and house of representatives, as well as a rather impressive art gallery.

I am studying a Navajo rug hung in the gallery when a petite woman with curly hair approaches me. "Harper Kingsley?"

"Senator Landers, thanks for meeting with me."

"I’m very happy to turn a spotlight onto this situation at the Coyote Lake Navajo reservation." She gestures to the rug I’ve been studying. "It’s ironic. We honor their artistry, but are willing to kill off their way of life. The woman who wove that rug is Agueda Martinez. She’s a hundred and one years old, a living treasure. Come with me, my office is on the fourth floor."

Once we’re settled in her office, she provides me with a briefing sheet on legislation she’s recently introduced. "Our state motto is Land of Enchantment. The governor and I, and a few of my fellow legislators, actually believe it. There’s not another state which can boast the diversity we can. We’re not about to let an out-of-state company harm it in any way. So, in the spirit of government bureaucracy and delay tactics, I have proposed a bill to create a multi-agency task force to review the permit granted for the storage facility."

I laugh at her satisfied smirk. "If you can’t beat the system …"

"Exactly. New Mexico doesn’t want or need any new nuclear waste coming into our state. We have Los Alamos. We have all we can handle, believe me. In addition to the task force, I have also petitioned the Nuclear Regulatory Commission to intervene and deny the Geo-Tech application. The governor has vowed to oppose all licenses needed for the facility, but it’s still up for a vote in the main chamber. And the Department of the Interior for the state is about to announce an environmental impact statement will need to be prepared for the project to proceed."

"Does it concern you to use the government in this manner?"

She leans back and chews on the earpiece of her glasses. "I suppose I could say that the end justifies the means. But, since the government has been shafting the Native Americans for years, I figure it’s okay to use it on their behalf this time. Don’t you?"

"I’ve never been much of a traditionalist, Senator."

* * *

I pull Kam’s collar off and hang it on the hook by the door. My furry friend heads off for his water dish. We had a fun walk in the Park. Kam has become quite popular in a short amount of time. It surprises me still the whole dog culture they have going here in New York. I’m not Kelsey in the park, I’m Kam’s mom. I don’t know any of the other dog owners either. They’re either AJ’s mom or Val’s dad or MacD’s aunt. What their actual names are, I have no idea. We talk about our babies’ diets and exercise habits and favorite chew toys. It’s absolutely therapeutic. I think I enjoy it as much as Kam does.

I glance at my watch and make a mad dash for the phone, hoping to snag it before the machine picks it up. It’s too early for Harper to be calling, but I can hope.

"Hello?"

"Hello, ma petit." Her voice is the last one I expect to hear, but I’m pleased none the less.

"Mama! Comment ca va?" I settle down on the sofa and kick my sneakers off.

A dramatic sigh meets my inquiry of how she’s doing. "Confused."

"How so?" This ought to be interesting. I can’t imagine what Cecile Kingsley could be confused about.

Another sigh, less dramatic, but still there. "Has my daughter mentioned a wedding to you?"

I laugh a little. "Well, she said something about it when she proposed." Oh God, Harper, I wish you were here to handle this call.

"Anything after that?" Mama persists like a dog on a bone.

Speaking of that, I hear a loud munching noise near the couch. I glance down to find Kam munching on the rawhide Brian brought back from Doug. A rather successful errand overall, in fact. But, back to my love life and not Brian’s. "We haven’t had much of a chance to talk about it. When we returned to New York, we were thrown into a new story. It’s been a bit time consuming."

"So, what you’re trying to say is, no."

"Mama, we’ve been busy."

I barely hear Mama mutter something in sour French. I pull the receiver back and stare at the phone for a moment. Surely I didn’t hear that comment correctly. "Did you really just say that?"

She chuckles in my ear. "I love her more than life itself, but she is the most frustrating human being on the planet. She needs to get her backside in gear and get this wedding off the ground."

I give my tummy a little rub. It’s true. I’d like to get married before I really start showing. I don’t know why. It’s just sort of stuck in the back of my mind that I should. Like this is a traditional wedding to begin with. Mother would die if she knew about it.

"And you!" I flinch, despite her teasing tone. "Why aren’t you doing something about making her pick a date and…"

I interrupt gently. "Well, she’s out of town at the moment. Like I said…"

"Out of town! Mon Dieu! What could take her out of town right now? You two should be making wedding plans. Elle a trop de fer au feu."

"Yes, Mama." Harper does have too many irons in the fire, but that’s the price of success. I hang my head, now knowing exactly how my partner feels when Mama is on a mission. And boy, is she on a mission. I promise never to laugh at you again, Tabloid.

"Have her call me. There are a lot of preparations to be done. Even if it is to be a small and informal family gathering." The last words hold a trace of reproach. Harper is in trouble apparently.

Poor dear. I’ll have to figure out a way to make it up to her.

After we say our good-byes, I stare at the phone for a long moment. Then I hit speed dial.

I take a deep breath to focus myself. I make sure to keep the tone in my voice light, so Harper will know right away nothing is wrong. When her voicemail picks up, it's all I can do to keep from laughing. I have now received my first official grilling from Mama. That's almost as good as a wedding ceremony in the Kingsley clan. "Tabloid, sweetheart, you know I love you," I tell her phone. "But if you don't call me back as soon as you can, I'm going to buy your Mama a one way ticket to New Mexico so she can come talk to you about the wedding plans we apparently are failing to make. You can run, Harper Lee, but you can't hide. Call me. I love you."

I end the call and take the phone with me to the kitchen. As I prepare a nice salad, I glance at the phone, waiting for it to ring. I smile when it does even before I have put the lettuce into the bowl. I continue to prepare my dinner as I shoulder the phone. "Hello?"

"Kels, honey, what happened?"

I chuckle a bit, slicing up a cucumber. "Mama happened."

"Damn."

"Should I run a tab for you?" I tease, glancing at the jar. Gotta empty it out and put the cash in savings. There’s a tidy sum in it already.

"Please. What did she want?"

"She wanted to know why we haven't set a date for the wedding. Among other things."

Harper sighs exactly the same way her Mama did not fifteen minutes ago. "Did you tell her we're working?"

"Has that ever mattered before?" I pop a piece of cucumber in my mouth and lean back against the counter.

"No." I hear her sigh and mutter 'damn' again. "I really took my own earful of it this time too, for your information."

"Why?" she growls.

Ooo, I roused the protective instinct of my lover. I like it. "Apparently I'm not doing my job in nailing you down on this issue."

"Honey, I didn't want to do this over the phone."

Now I sigh, neither did I. I had thought curled up in front of the fireplace would have been nice, but I'd rather do it over the phone than deal with Mama again. "It's only a date, Tabloid. I think if we pick one it will satisfy her for the moment."

Harper snorts. "Like that's possible. Sweetheart, when do you want to get married? It is our wedding, after all."

Now, that’s funny. "Apparently Mama doesn’t think so." I grin, knowing she’s going to hate this part. "She wants you to call her."

"I think my cell phone battery is about to run out."

"Oh no you don’t, Harper Lee Kingsley! Don’t you even think about it!"

"What?" Harper is laughing in my ear. "Are you afraid she’ll call you again?"

"I’ll fly her out there myself, I swear I will. I have the Amex card that can do it too. And, yes, as a matter of fact, I am scared. I’d rather not go through that again. I intend to keep Mama on my good side."

"Welcome to the family, chér."

I can hear the laughter in her voice. She is evil. "Stop laughing at me, Tabloid. I’ll send Mama on the next flight west."

"God, stop! I’ll call her, I’ll call her. I promise. Now, answer my question: when will you marry me?"

A warmth spreads through me at her question. "Whenever you want me to. You tell me when to be there. I’ll all yours." Truer words were never spoken.

"Damn straight," Harper replies. She’s keeping that jar from getting empty, that’s for sure. "How about this weekend?"

"This weekend? Aren’t you gonna be in New Mexico this weekend? Kind of hard to get married when my partner is a couple thousand miles away."

"Okay, maybe not this weekend. What’s our first free weekend? I don’t want to wait. Do you?"

"Not really." I munch on another piece of cucumber. "There’s a trigger somewhere in my brain that says we should do this before I look like a boat. I want you to have pleasant memories of what I looked like the day you married me." I do not want to look like the Good Ship Lollipop in our wedding photos, that’s for darn sure.

Harper’s voice is low and sexy when she replies. "I have pleasant memories of you every day, darlin’. But, it sounds like we should do this sooner rather than later. Oh, what the hell? Let's be traditional and have a June wedding. That way, it'll give Mama only four weeks to drive us insane."

Now that’s a plan I can get behind. "June first then. I know that both our schedules are clear. It's the week after the Peabodys."

"Sure this weekend won’t work for you?"

She’s so bad. "You want to elope, Tabloid?"

"Well, they do have a Las Vegas, New Mexico. I have to admit, Kels, that a quiet, private ceremony with just me, you and the babies sounds really good to me."

Just the four of us. I like it. "That sounds extremely sweet, decidedly romantic and very wonderful. Mama, however, will kill us if she ever finds out."

"All the more reason to do it."

"Ooo, now you're being bad just because you can. And, God help me, I'm thinking of helping you.."

"We’re in it together, baby. Just the two of us. You’re my Mini Me."

Bad visions of Austin Powers and his clone drift through my brain. Harper loves that movie. I don’t quite get the attraction. But, the love between Austin and Mini Me was undeniable. "I wouldn't have it any other way. Even if you do get me into trouble."

"Only the best kind."

"But if Mama finds out, it was all your idea."

Harper begins making a clucking sound.

"I’m not chicken. I’m smart. One of us has to be around to raise the babies." God, I don’t even want to think about raising them alone. Don’t you ever leave me, Harper. We’re in this together.

"You’re not getting rid of me that easily. Now, listen, I want you to book a flight here for next Thursday."

"It’ll be late. I see Dr. McGuire Thursday morning."

"Wonderful! Bring pictures!"

I can’t help but laugh. She insisted on taking one of the pictures with her to New Mexico in her wallet. I wonder how many people she’s shown it to already. "I'll see what I can do. I don't know if he's planning on taking any pictures, though. It's just a check up."

"Tell him I want pictures."

"All right, all right. I’ll tell him." Something tells me Harper will be indulged. "You’re pushy, you know that?"

"I consider it an endearing trait."

"It’s something all right, Tabloid." Okay, back to business for a moment. "So, is it a good story? And are you having any fun at all?"

"Yes and not without you here."

"Well, I’ll be there Thursday night. I’ll get the first flight I can after my appointment."

"Wonderful."

I yawn loudly, surprised at how tired I am, even though it isn’t all that late. Being pregnant can really take it out of you sometimes. Lately, all I want to do is either throw up or sleep. Well, or molest Harper, but I consider that a good thing.

"I’ll let you get some sleep. I love you, chér."

"Okay. I love you too, you rotten human being you. Now, be a good girl and call your Mama."

Harper begins making static noises. "What? I think the phone is breaking up."

"Harper!" I warn. I do not want another call. "I mean it! Call her!"

"I gotta go. The phone is breaking u-"

That little fink. She better call her.

Or I might just mention the history of our bed in New Orleans when I see her next.

<fade out>

© 2000 Exposure Productions. All rights reserved. The Content is protected in the U.S. and internationally by a variety of laws, including but not limited to, copyright laws and treaty provisions, and other proprietary rights laws.

You are hereby granted permission to receive a copy of the Content from the mailing list in whole or in part, (and, except where otherwise specified or provided by Exposure Productions, print a single copy of the Content for your own personal use) but only for purposes of viewing and browsing through the Content. You are also hereby granted permission to store the files on your computer for your own personal use. All other use of Content from the mailing list, including, but not limited to modification, publication, transmission, participation in the transfer or sale of, reproduction, creation of derivative works from, distribution, performance, display, incorporation into another web site, reproducing the Content (whether by linking, framing or any other method), or in any other way exploiting any of the Content, in whole or in part, for uses other than those expressly permitted may not be made without Exposure Productions’ prior express written consent.

Though this series is inspired by certain actual incidents, it is a work of fiction and references to real people and organizations are included only to lend a sense of authenticity. All of the characters, whether central or peripheral, are wholly the product of the authors’ imagination, as are their actions, motivations, thoughts and conversations, and neither the characters nor the situations which were invented for them are intended to depict real people or real events. In particular, the depictions of CBS and NBC are not meant to portray the corporations, or any individual within the corporations, but are only used to lend a sense of authenticity to this work of fiction.