The someone was Cheyenne, the woman who had approached Angeni and Aurora at Rainbow’s memorial service. Ted said he’d heard she helped women with “this type of thing,” and Angeni had to assume a previous girlfriend of his had needed the same service.
Cheyenne lived in a tiny Craftsman-style house just a few blocks from Angeni and Aurora. The inside was dimly lit and sparsely furnished. Cheyenne led Angeni through the front entryway to the living room, which had just a couch, end table, and lamp, then on to the kitchen, every inch of which was cluttered with various labeled glass bottles and jars.
“Sit, dear,” Cheyenne said, motioning to one of the four chairs at the round table, on top of which were stacks of books.
“Thank you, again, for helping me,” Angeni said.
“It is a gift I can offer women who need it,” Cheyenne said. “I helped Rainbow with this same predicament once.”
“Really?” This surprised Angeni. She’d had no idea. Rainbow had never let on.
“Yes, a few years ago. She wouldn’t have judged you. I can assure you of that.”
Angeni appreciated the assurance, but she didn’t need it. She knew Rainbow wouldn’t have judged her. Rainbow had always talked to Angeni and Aurora about taking ownership of their bodies, never letting anyone talk them out of their intuition.
“Native American women have been controlling their fertility for centuries,” Cheyenne said.
“Really?” Angeni said. “Just with herbs?”
Cheyenne nodded as she moved about her kitchen, opening cabinets, pulling out glass jars as she saw fit.
“Peacock flower, that was a popular one. I like pennyroyal and mugwort,” she said.
Angeni watched as she spooned out the herbs and explained what they were. The pennyroyal looked like dried sod with tiny flecks of purple from what were once bright-lavender flowers. The mugwort was clumpy and thick, like couch stuffing or wall insulation. It smelled like dried grass.
“You’ll make a tea with these,” she said, and proceeded to demonstrate how much to put in a mug before pouring in the hot water.
“It needs to steep a good long while. Twenty minutes or so,” she said, glancing at the clock on her wall.
“And that’s it? That’s all?” Angeni asked, disbelieving.
Cheyenne smiled. “You will need to drink it over the next several days. That’s all.”
“What do I owe you for this?” Angeni asked. She had brought a hundred dollars with her, money Ted had given her. She hoped that was enough.
When she started fishing in her purse for her wallet, Cheyenne made a tsking sound.
“That’s not what I want from you,” she said.
Angeni stopped rooting around in her purse and waited for more.
“What I want, after you heal from your current situation, is for you to resume the congregation meetings,” Cheyenne said.
It took a moment for Angeni to understand.
“Rainbow’s congregation meetings?”
Cheyenne nodded. “Rainbow told me you have the gift.”
“The gift? The gift of what?”
“Captivating a community.”
Angeni was flattered that Rainbow had thought she possessed any kind of gift, let alone this one. Apparently, she’d even felt compelled to tell Cheyenne about it.
“Oh, well, I don’t know about that. But I can try,” Angeni said. “Aurora can help me.”
Cheyenne nodded. “She can help, yes. But you are the one with the gift.”
