by KB Anne
I watched the door, wondering if one or both of them might pop their head back in. “Will we really be safe there?”
He pulled my hand to his lips. “Actually, there’s no safer place. Why do you think I’ve been so relaxed with you at the hospital?”
“First of all, if not letting me out of your sight for more than five minutes is relaxed, I’d hate to see you stressed out.”
He kissed my hand with an innocent grin. I rolled my eyes.
“Let me guess, old treaties of the supernatural kind made generations ago?”
He laughed and put my hand down. “Actually, you’re not far off. After the Trail of Tears, several medicine men from a number of different tribes decided they needed to keep the white man off our lands forever. My People believe in the power of our ancestors to watch over and protect us.”
It always surprised me when Christian said my People instead of the Cherokee. I was half Irish and half English, but I wouldn’t call either group my people—although did that still apply if I was a fae? Anyway... His connection to his people made me wish I had the same connection to mine. Maybe sometime in the future I would find out more about my heritage—not from my grandparents of course, but maybe there was some family member who didn’t want to parade me around at court like I was some type of doll who could share fae culture with me.
“If a person tries to enter the Qualla Boundary without an invitation, he’ll wind up where he started. He won’t know what happened, and he won’t remember where he wanted to go in the first place.”
“That’s great for you Mr. Part Cherokee, but what about me? I’m going to end up in Kalamazoo or something.”
“Starr, do you remember the big deal Ben made about inviting us—how he shook both our hands?”
“Yes.”
“Ben isn’t some anal tight ass. He wanted to make an official verbal contract with both of us. Therefore, we can come and go as long as we’re welcome. So, don’t blow it.” He kissed my hand again. His lips felt warm, and soft, and wonderful.
“What if a person gets invited and does something bad.”
“Even if he’s invited, if he tries to cross the boundary, he won’t be able to. Again, he’ll be sick or suffer from amnesia…”
“The legends get more and more interesting.”
"You’ve no idea.”
I scooted on the bed closer to him. “Speaking of interesting stories, are you ready to tell me what happened yet?”
“That story really isn’t that interesting.”
If looks could kill, Christian would be beaten to a pulp. He exhaled, finally accepting I wouldn’t rest until he told me what happened to him. “Fine. My feet and hands were tied up, and then I was hung up on that post. They asked me a couple of questions and that was pretty much it.”
I pulled my hand from his grasp. “So the bruises, the cuts, and the gashes are imaginary?”
“No, not imaginary,” he shrugged, “just not a big deal.”
“The doctor said most of the bruises were caused by blunt force objects—do you mind telling me what that was? Or was that nothing too?” Before he could respond, I continued. “I saw shovels, hoes, and pitchforks all over the ground. Did those bastards beat you with them?”
Anger welled up inside of me, ready to burst. My voice raised another several octaves. “And what are these red gashes all over your body? Whip marks?”
His eyes bored into mine, refusing to give even a hint of emotion away. We sat in a silent battle of the wills, but there were no winners in this game. He was as stubborn as I was. It drove me nuts.
“I don’t remember. In my mind, I was someplace else.”
His hand traveled up and down the side of my face to my neck and shoulders. Happy little tingles marked its path. Happy little tingles that wanted to distract me from asking him what happened to him, but his life was much too important to me.
“And where were you?” I asked, as quiet as the steady drip of his IV.
“I was with you at a campfire down by the lake.”
“Hmm, and what were we doing?” I lifted an eyebrow.
He pulled me closer. “I’d rather show you.”
I yanked myself backward. “Nice try, but I’m not that easily distracted.”
He gave me a wide-eyed, raised brow, “really” look. I crossed my arms and waited. The drip, drip, drip of the IV echoed through the room. When he didn’t get the hint, I snapped, “I’m waiting.”
“For what?” With an innocent grin, he pulled at my hand. I was sure he was hoping the rest of me would follow. When he realized I wasn’t budging, his shoulders drooped. His head dropped back against his pillow, but his eyes still sparkled with a heavy dose of mischief. “That’s it. I didn’t think about what was going on with me. I thought about you, and then all of the sudden, you were saving me.”
I stared at him for a long time without saying a word. I realized he wasn’t going to tell me what happened to him, at least right now. And what could I do, beat it out of him? Obviously that didn’t work.
He took my silence as a victory. “So the offer still stands about reliving the campfire.”
I’ve always been a sucker for a good argument.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The next morning, Ben pushed Christian out to a shiny, orange Dodge Charger with black detailing parked at the hospital’s side entrance. Nothing about the shiny orange car was understated except maybe the black detailing. It was the type of car I would expect Coda to drive, not understated Ben.
Ben shifted the car into reverse and twisted his neck to look out the rear window. “Oh, I meant to tell you. Coda and I rode up to the cabin yesterday after work. We brought back all your clothes, bags, and food. What’s with all the boxes of blueberry muffins?”
Christian winked at me, and we both laughed. “Starr’s a big fan. Everything okay?”
“The cabin was fine. It didn’t look like anyone had been there other than the two of you, but there was something interesting.”
I squeezed Christian’s hand. “What’s that?”
“Two horses were grazing in the field with halters on.”
We stared wide-eyed at each other. “What did they look like?”
“One was black and spirited. The other was smaller and a pinto.”
“Demon and Little Miss!” we shouted together.
“Who?”
“The horses I rented from the dude ranch,” Christian said.
“I just left them after I found you. They followed us in the truck when we left, but then I lost them. They must’ve found their way back up to the meadow.”
“Are they still there?”
Ben grunted. “No, we tried to catch the black one, but he wouldn’t have it. After we caught the pinto, he followed us down the trail. They’re over at the stables.”
I shifted forward. “Were they all right?”
Ben took a left out of the parking lot. “Oh yeah, there’s lots of good stuff to munch on up there. I gave a quick explanation about the horses to the owner. As long as they can use them for trail riding, the horses can stay indefinitely.”
Whew. At least that was one less thing to worry about.
While Christian assured me the Qualla Boundary was safe, I didn’t know if I believed him. I didn’t think we’d ever be safe again.
Ben drove past the Museum of the Cherokee Indian, the Qualla Arts and Crafts Mutual, and a large fairground, before he took a left onto Michel Lane. The green street looked like the ones at home with the exception of the intricate lettering just below the name. “What are those symbols at the bottom of the signs?”
“That’s the Cherokee syllabary invented by Sequoyah in 1821. He wanted us to be able to read and write so he created a written language without being literate in any language. He helped strengthen our identity during a time when the settlers wanted to eradicate us,” Ben said. I didn’t miss the pride in his voice.
The neighborhoods reminded me of every suburb I had ever dri
ven through with neat, orderly yards and tract houses. Not that I expected to see teepees, but I thought the houses would look more ethnic, although I wasn’t sure what I meant by ethnic. Even the playground with its plastic slides and fiberglass climbing walls reminded me of home.
Christian reached up and touched my cheek. “What’s wrong?”
I realized I was chewing the corner of my mouth again. “Nothing, I was just checking out the neighborhood.”
Ben glanced in the rearview mirror. “Disappointed?”
“No,” I said, probably sounding a bit too defensive. “Why would I be disappointed?”
“Because we don’t live in teepees or walk around with big feather headdresses and tomahawks,” he said laughing. Coda and Christian laughed along with him.
“I knew that.”
“Really?” He glanced in the rearview mirror again. Those big brown eyes demanded honesty.
“Yes…mostly,” I admitted.
He put on the right turn signal and turned onto another suburban street. “I knew it. The outside world thinks we still walk around in beads and leather outfits, chasing after buffalo. They’re always shocked to find out the truth—that we live just like you do.”
“Lucky you,” I teased back.
“I could take you back through town and show you some teepees and a half dozen Crazy Horses,” he teased, “but I don’t think any of them are even Cherokee.”
“Thanks for the offer,” I laughed.
“Is that the new meeting house and the tribal council office?” Christian asked as we passed by two very contemporary timber-frame buildings. The architect incorporated sleek modern native elements into the design of the buildings seamlessly.
“Yep,” Ben said. “They finished them about a year or so ago.” A few minutes later, he pulled into a one-story, vinyl-sided house that looked exactly like Frank’s. “We’re home,” he said and put the car into park. He jumped out and opened the rear door. “Let me help you.”
“I got it,” Christian said.
Ben helped him stand up. “Sure, sure.”
I walked over to Christian’s other side and put his arm over my shoulders. The electricity coursed between us. It had been a few days since we had been this close. I took a deep breath and allowed his intoxicating scent of cedar and mint to take over my senses. He squeezed me tight and looked at me, his intentions clear.
“Mmhhhmmm,” Ben cleared his throat. “Would you two lovebirds mind waiting until we get inside? This cat ain’t no lightweight.”
“Sorry,” I whispered. A flush warmed my cheeks. I really needed to control that tell too.
When we got inside, Christian heaved himself onto a plush brown sofa with worn armrests. “Home, sweet home.”
I stood by the door and took everything in. The deep red and brown walls gave the room a comfortable homey feel. Cozy printed wool blankets were draped across the two worn sofas. A bookshelf on the wall closest to me was filled with a used Oxford English Dictionary and a set of Encyclopedia Britannica, pottery, intricately woven baskets, and pictures of Native Americans dancing in tribal regalia. “You said your parents were at a powwow.”
“Yep, they’ll be gone for a few weeks.” He flopped down on a blue easy chair in the corner. “At least you won’t have to share a bed. I’m sure you’d hate that.” He ran his arms up and down his legs acting like he had the heebie-jeebies. My cheeks turned crimson. Christian pulled me down on top of him and growled, “I’m not letting this girl out of my sight.”
“Easy there big guy.” I scooted off him onto the sofa. “You just got out of the hospital. Doc Wynn said you needed lots of rest. A few solid nights of sleep will be good for you.
He stuck out his lower lip as he rested his head on my shoulder. “I don’t sleep well when you’re not around.”
“I’ll still be around. I’ll just be in the next room.”
“That’s not good enough,” he whined. “I’m the patient and I get my way.” I was tempted to bite his lip then and there, but I was well aware Ben was in the room with us.
“This conversation is way too exciting for me,” Ben said, pushing up for the chair. “I’ll call Coda to let him know you’re home.”
As soon as he disappeared, Christian pulled me closer to him. “Now, where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?” Tension sizzled between us as our lips smashed together. It had been much too long since we were really able to kiss, much too long.
Somewhere in the background, someone knocked at the front door, but I was too distracted to notice. “Aw gross,” Coda cried. “Get a room!”
“I know right?” Ben said. “If I knew that was going to happen all the time, I wouldn’t have invited them.”
We broke away from each other, our cravings satisfied for the moment. “You’re just jealous,” Christian teased.
“Yeah he is,” agreed Coda. Ben pretended to swat at Coda’s head but faked him out and whacked him with his other hand instead.
Coda rubbed the side of his jaw. “Owwww!” Christian and I cracked up on the sofa. “What are you two laughing at?” He lunged with a vengeful leer, but again he turned into another vaudeville character. “You better watch it or I’ll tell Rebecca you’re here.” We pretended to sit up straight and pay attention before we slouched back down into the cushions.
“Alright,” Ben said. “Some of us have to go back to work. The fridge is stocked. Help yourself and behave!”
“Yes sir!” Christian sat upright again and put his right hand to his forehead like he was standing at attention. Ben laughed and closed the front door behind me.
“Now where were we?” Christian said.
The sparks started shooting between us, but before I gave into temptation, I jumped off the sofa. “You are going to get some rest or I’ll take you right back to the hospital, mister.”
The initial wide-eyed surprise disappeared and replaced by something more sinister. “Will you at least sit with me when I take a nap?” He batted his eyelashes at me. His long, lush black eyelashes.
I was not that strong of a person to resist his charms. “I’ll sit with you, if you promise to behave.”
“Of course.” He patted the sofa next to him. He put his arm around me and drew me closer to him.
I nestled into his body like I’d been doing it forever. “Did you ever think at any time during the school year, we’d be sitting like this now?”
“No. Remember I was all into being dark and gloomy and forlorn,” he replied good-naturedly.
I squinted at him. “Oh, I remember someone rolling his eyes at me once or twice.”
“Who would dare do that?” His eyes darkened as he pretended to be angry.
“I also remember someone walking away from me when I plowed into him in the cafeteria, and he didn’t even ask me if I was okay!” I pouted, jutting out my lower lip.
He twisted a lock of my hair around and around his finger. “I was in shock.”
“Why?”
“Because the girl I was doing my best to avoid, walked right smack into me and then this happened.” He grabbed my hand and electricity shot between us. Our fingers twisted together and then pulled apart over and over. “I never had that happen before and of course, it had to be from you.”
His deep blue eyes filled with wonder, but I still had to ask, “What do you mean, ‘of course, it had to me?’”
“Remember, I avoided you like the plague. You were, you are, my dream girl in every way.” He pulled my hand to his mouth and slowly kissed each finger. “When you plowed into me, I knew that something was going to happen between us sooner or later. After we touched, I knew I could no longer ignore your existence.”
“I did think you were kind of cute even when you were all dark and gloomy.”
“Kind of cute? That sounds like a superficial observation to me. Didn’t you find my aloof intellectual mystique intriguing?”
“I found your butt intriguing,” I teased. “And sometimes I imagined running my
fingers through your hair.” He bent his head. His long, thick, black hair fell forward, covering his face. I ran my fingers through it and pushed it back. Our lips were inches from each other. There was no need for further action on my part. His lips had already found mine.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The front door squeaked as it opened. I peeked through hooded lids in time to see Ben tiptoe down the hall. I untangled myself from Christian and followed him.
“Hey,” he said as I entered a kitchen that had light oak cabinets and brass pulls, just like Frank’s. I instantly felt at home. “How’s he doing?”
“Good. He’s been out for a while.”
Ben put a stockpot and a frying pan onto the laminate countertop. “Hungry?”
I nodded. “Definitely, and I’m sure he’ll be starving when he wakes up. Can I help with anything?”
“Nope, I’m making a traditional Cherokee dish.” His head disappeared behind the refrigerator.
“Is it spicy? I love spicy foods!”
He set the ingredients onto a wood cutting board. A green hairy veggie that looked like an onion in desperate need of a haircut rested on top of the pile. “No, that’s Mexican. We don’t add a lot of heat, but it’s one of Christian’s favorites.”
I pulled out a chair from the dinette table while Ben busied himself with dinner preparations. He glided through the kitchen with ease, weaving in and out of cabinets like a seasoned chef, especially impressive given his size and his gender. My kitchen skills revolved around peanut butter and jelly with the occasional fluffernutter. “So, when was the last time you saw him?”
With a large knife in hand, he sliced the hairy vegetable. It smelled sweeter than a regular onion, and no one was crying, which was a relief because I’d done a lot of crying lately. “Right after his parents died. A bunch of us went up to the funeral. He was pretty beat up about it. We gave him a couple days, then we took turns calling or writing, but none of us heard anything. He completely cut us off. The other day at the hospital was the first time any of us had seen or heard from him in a year and a half. Are you from Raleigh?”