Heart of the Falcon

by Francis Ray

  “Do you remember what a hard time I had getting you to wade in the creek at the back of the house?” Out of the corner of her eye she saw his sensual mouth curve upward. “You never liked being dirty or mussed. The only time you didn’t care what you looked like was when we were making love.”

  Heat splintered through Felicia like a stoked furnace. Her hand clenched in her lap. Vivid images of them entwined in bed flashed into her mind. The sudden need, the hunger was almost unbearable. Unconsciously she pressed her legs closer together.

  “I’m hungry. You want to go get a hamburger or something?”

  She jerked her head around. “You’re asking me to go to dinner with you?”

  “I don’t see anyone else, and I don’t mean dinner where I have to dress up,” he told her.

  Felicia couldn’t take it all in. He was looking at her, talking to her, asking her to dinner. “Yes, I’d love to.” She was up in a flash, rushing across the room toward her suit.

  “If we go, you wear what you have on.”

  She whirled just before her grasping fingers touched the linen. “What? You can’t mean for me to go out looking like this?”

  “I’ve seen how long it takes you to dress, and I’m hungry now.” Gracefully he came to his feet, his black hair swinging around his wide shoulders. “Are you coming or not?”

  Felicia heard more than the words spoken. She heard, “I won’t ask again.”

  “I’ll get my purse.”

  “You won’t need it.”

  She looked at him, and his gaze was steady and hard. She couldn’t tell if he wanted to see her humiliated further, or was simply being impatient. She knew only that she had to take this last chance, no matter the consequences.

  Walking toward him in her flour-and-dough-stained T-shirt and faded sweatpants, her face almost as bad, took every bit of Felicia’s courage. Moistening her lips, she tasted icing at the corner. The Joy perfume she had splashed on that morning was probably no match for the aroma of freshly baked bread. Swallowing, she kept going.

  She didn’t need a mirror to know what five hours in the kitchen had done to her makeup, her hair. In fact, she preferred not to see one.

  “Can I borrow the truck, Daniel?” John Henry asked the instant they entered the kitchen. “Your mother and I are going to get something to eat.”

  The twist of irony of his father asking for the car keys while his date, Daniel’s mother, stood by and stared at her booted feet, lifted Daniel’s spirits considerably. He wished he could enjoy it.

  Madelyn had sipped her milk and played with the crust of a croissant ever since she had tossed out her opinion on love not being enough. For once, Daniel didn’t want her agreeing with him.

  Daniel studied the uneasiness of his mother, the self-assurance of his father. He couldn’t begin to guess how his father had managed to get his mother to go out in public the way she looked. No matter what his mother did, she did it with style.

  And now she was going out looking as if she had been attacked by a bread machine and wearing the ugliest booties he had ever seen. His father didn’t miss much, and it was a sure bet he knew what his mother had on her feet.

  He flipped the keys. “No dents, no dings, no tickets. Be back at a reasonable hour.”

  His father merely lifted a heavy brow. “I’ll listen to you as much as you listened to me.”

  Daniel looked uneasy. “Wasn’t my fault other people can’t drive.”

  “So you always said. Help Madelyn with the dishes.” He turned to Felicia. “Let’s go.”

  Felicia didn’t say a word, just started for the door as if she had been given her last rites and she was walking the last mile.

  Chapter 15

  “Are you just going to sit there and eat another cinnamon roll?” Madelyn asked as soon as the door closed.

  Daniel frowned, not liking the glint in her eyes. “What is it you want me to do?” he asked cautiously.

  Chocolate-brown eyes widened in disbelief. Planting both hands on the table, she stood. “Go after them of course. Felicia was terrified.”

  Daniel blinked. “What?”

  Rounding the table, she tried to drag him up by the arm. “I try to stay out of family business, but Felicia is my friend. Being a man, maybe you didn’t notice, but she didn’t look too happy to be going with your father.”

  Daniel allowed himself to be pulled to his feet because he didn’t want her to hurt herself. “You really think Mother didn’t want to go?” he asked, trying hard to keep the smile off his face.

  “Of course she didn’t,” Madelyn told him. “Now go get her before they leave.”

  Settling both hands on her shoulders, he turned her to him. The smile he had been trying to hold worked itself loose. “Thank you for caring about my mother, but in the short time you’ve known her, has she ever done anything she didn’t want to do?”

  “No, but she wanted another chance.”

  “Exactly,” Daniel said. “If we try to stop her from leaving with Dad, she’s not going to be happy with either of us.”

  Madelyn glanced toward the door. “She looked so unhappy, Daniel.”

  Her continued concern for his mother touched him. “Probably because she’s not looking her best. Have you ever seen her less than perfect?”

  Madelyn’s shoulders relaxed. “Come to think of it, no. I had to push her hands into the bread dough. But whenever I’d turn away, she’d wipe them on paper towels. She probably went through half a roll.”

  “Don’t worry, Mother is fine.”

  Madelyn shifted restlessly under his hands. It felt good to have his hands on her again. “Do you think they can settle their differences?”

  “I hope so,” Daniel said, the pad of his thumb absently stroking her shoulder. “He said some other woman asked him to marry her.”

  “Oh, no,” Madelyn cried. “Poor Felicia.”

  “Don’t count Mother out. Some woman may have asked to marry him, but Dad didn’t say he had said yes.”

  Madelyn’s eyes brightened. “Then there’s a chance?”

  “There’s always a chance,” he said, looking down into her eyes.

  Swallowing, she stepped back. “I guess so.”

  He wasn’t buoyed by her mild agreement, but it was better than a resounding no. “You want to go out to get something to eat or cook in?”

  Folding her arms, Madelyn lifted a delicate brow. “I wasn’t aware of inviting you to dinner.”

  She looked so adorable and cute with a smattering of flour across her forehead, he wanted to take her into his arms and cuddle her. Too soon. “Dad has my truck.”

  “Felicia said you have a five-car garage, and all the bays are full. You had to move one out to make room for her Mercedes.”

  “True, but they’re there, and I’m here and hungry.” He smiled. Dimples winked. “If you’ll recall, Mother gave Higgins the rest of the day off.”

  She eyed him for a long time. Was it possible that last night at the hospital heralded a new beginning for them? “If you stay, you’re helping do the dishes and we eat out.”

  “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

  * * *

  Felicia couldn’t relax. She tried taking deep breaths, creating a soothing picture in her mind, closing her eyes. Nothing worked. She finally had John Henry to herself, and she looked like an apprentice baker on her first day.

  “You’re going to stretch Madelyn’s T-shirt out of shape if you keep pulling on it,” John Henry said mildly.

  Felicia released the ball of black material and glanced out the window of the truck. This so-called date was turning into a disaster.

  “What do you want to eat?” he asked, pulling up behind another vehicle in the drive-thru window of a fast-food restaurant.

  “Nothing for me,” she said, knowing the food would stick in her throat.

  “Did you eat while you were baking?” he asked, shifting the gears and pulling up.

  She shook her head. “I wasn’t hungry the
n, either.”

  “Why? You’re worried about Madelyn and the baby?”

  “You know?” she questioned. “Daniel told you?”

  “May I have your order, please?” asked the disembodied voice.

  “A hamburger with mustard, no onions, a grilled chicken sandwich, two fries, and two chocolate shakes.”

  “Thank you. Please drive to the first window.”

  “John Henry,” Felicia prodded. “How did you find out?”

  Answering her question, he shifted to pull his wallet from his pocket and pay the cashier. Felicia’s heart sank.

  The only reason she had noticed the vitamins was because she had watched Madelyn take one that morning. There probably wasn’t a speck of flour or batter or a myriad of other things on her that he hadn’t seen.

  “Hold these.”

  Taking the shakes, she sat quietly while John Henry pulled into a space at the far end of the parking lot.

  “I hope she didn’t forget the ketchup.”

  “You don’t like ketchup on your fries,” she said absently.

  “You do. Here it is,” he said, pulling the package from the sack. “Pop some straws into our shakes.”

  Felicia was peeling the paper from the straw before it hit her. “You don’t like chocolate shakes, you like strawberry.”

  Coal-black eyes stared into hers. “A man can change his mind.”

  Felicia’s breath fluttered out over her lips.

  “Eat your chicken sandwich,” John Henry said, unwrapping his hamburger. “Then maybe we can go someplace and talk.”

  Her eyes brightened with hope that displaced her growing fear and helplessness. She unwrapped her sandwich. “I’d like that, John Henry. I’d like that a lot.”

  * * *

  John Henry decided Daniel’s house was the best place to have their conversation. He wanted a place where both of them could seek some privacy if things went wrong. A lot could go wrong. Maybe he was setting himself up for another disappointment. Maybe Daniel was wrong.

  Yet seeing Felicia this afternoon, all mussed and in disarray, had been so reminiscent of the day he had come home from work to their small house to see her grinning and so proud of a batch of misshapen biscuits she had baked for him. In that moment he knew she no longer regretted their hasty marriage, regretted being separated from her parents, regretted not having the luxuries he couldn’t afford.

  Knowing her family would use any means necessary to get her back, he had quit his job with the Bureau of Indian Affairs in Flagstaff and brought his bride to the tiny community in Oklahoma where he had grown up. The only job available was as a ranch hand. He had gladly taken it to keep Felicia with him.

  The first weeks were nothing short of pure hell. Nothing he did pleased her except when they made love. He had left her asleep that morning after a particularly satisfying night of lovemaking and had expected to come home again to a silent, sullen wife.

  Instead she had met him at the door with a kiss, a smile, and the worst-looking biscuits he had ever seen.

  The biscuits were as hard as rocks and as tasteless because she had left out the baking powder and the salt. To him, it hadn’t mattered.

  He couldn’t have been more pleased and proud. He had drowned them in syrup and eaten every one, out of love, out of not wanting her to eat one herself and get sick because she was four and a half months pregnant with Daniel.

  Remembering that day, John Henry felt the familiar tug of happiness in his heart, the unwanted ache of loving a woman he had never been sure of.

  They walked side by side without touching until they reached the edge of the immense backyard. Felicia headed for the white wrought-iron bench under a hundred-foot oak.

  “Let’s sit over there.”

  Warily Felicia eyed the base of the towering oak tree with several of its foot-thick roots protruding aboveground. Without glancing his way, she walked over and sank down on the sparse grass, drawing her slim legs under her. “All right, John Henry, you’ve pushed and ordered and subtly threatened—so what now?”

  He hadn’t expected her to be agreeable for long. Even at the spa two years ago, when rage had consumed him, she had stood up to him.

  “Were you having an affair with Randolph Sims?” he asked. It wasn’t what he had intended, but he needed to know nonetheless.

  “No,” she answered softly. “But I wanted you to think I was on the brink.”

  “Why?”

  Hands pressed together in her lap, she looked out across the well-tended lawn. “I-I thought you didn’t care. I wanted to make you jealous.”

  John Henry remembered going to the spa to surprise her, and he was the one who had been surprised. “Try again. You didn’t know I was coming.”

  “Yes, I did,” she answered quietly. “Dominique had called me that morning.”

  “So you invited Sims to your suite,” he said tightly.

  Her head swung around. “I thought he was you when I answered the door.”

  “And I suppose you gave him no provocation to think his visit might be welcomed,” he bit out.

  She flinched from the anger in his harsh face, but she didn’t look away. “I’m not proud of the way I behaved, but I gave him no indication to expect anything else.”

  Hands on hips, his long black hair swirling wildly around him in the wind, John Henry glared down at her. “No indication! Damnit, Felicia, you’re not that naive. Randolph had wanted you as long as I can remember.”

  “I admit I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

  He gave a short bark of hollow laughter. “You flirt with a known womanizer, a man who likes to brag about his conquests, and you think saying ‘I’m sorry’ is supposed to rectify the situation?”

  “I don’t know what else to say.” Her gaze searched his face. “At least it never got out.”

  “Because I waited until Sims came out of your room and promised him if he said one word about you he’d regret it,” John Henry said, his face hard and unrelenting.

  “Then you know he didn’t stay,” she said joyfully.

  “Not that night, but what about the other nights before I arrived? You asked me to leave while he stayed. Do you know how that made me feel, to see slime like Sims smirking?” he questioned harshly.

  She came to her feet, her face and eyes imploring. “Nothing happened that night or ever. You’ve got to believe me. You might forgive me a lot of things, but adultery isn’t one of them.”

  “I could have killed you both,” he said, his fists clenched.

  “You could never physically hurt me, but I realized if you harmed Randolph, you’d be the one to pay. That’s why I told you I didn’t love you. You were too proud to want a woman who didn’t want you.” Tears sparkled in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. “I’ve paid for my foolishness every day and night since then.”

  “I’ve paid, too,” he said.

  John Henry had lived with her rejection day and night for two years. It was a hurt, a pain that wouldn’t go away, a pain that knew no source of comfort. How could there be when his beautiful wife sent him away while she prepared to take another man to her bed? “I hated you. I hated you as much as I once loved you.”

  “C-Can’t we start over?” she asked.

  “And what will you do the next time I don’t heel when you snap your fingers?”

  Anger blazed in her eyes to match his. “How dare you say something like that to me? You’re the one who kept popping in and out of my and the children’s lives. Heel, my foot.

  “You don’t know the meaning of the words ‘submission’ or ‘compromise.’ You’re as arrogant and as proud as ever. Did you ever stop to think how I felt knowing that sooner or later you’d get restless and go back to Oklahoma to that farm you bought a couple of years after we were married? Or how I felt hearing my friends whisper behind my back about my glaring lack of ability to keep my husband satisfied and at home?” she raged.

  “You and the children could have come, but you were too busy bein
g Miss Society and living the pampered lifestyle your parents’ money allowed you,” he told her.

  “I was not going to raise my children in a two-room cabin with the nearest school twelve miles away with only one teacher for each grade,” she flared. “I wanted better for them.”

  John Henry’s face contorted, rage mixed with despair. “So the truth is finally out. I was good enough to screw, but not good enough to take care of my kids.”

  Horror washed across Felicia’s face. “No. I didn’t mean it that way. I wanted them to have every advantage to succeed in life, and that meant the right schools, the right social standings.”

  “Things I couldn’t give them,” John Henry said. He stepped back and lifted his arms from his sides. “This is who I am, Felicia. A simple man, a Muscogee Indian. Not much to people like you, but I’m proud of who I am. I’ll never be happy being anything else. I’ll be damned if I’ll try anymore.” His hands lowered. “As quick as possible, I want a divorce. Get one or I will.”

  “John Henry,” Felicia cried, tears streaming down her cheek, her hands reaching for him.

  He stepped back. “I don’t ever want to feel your touch again, to know that I let you trample my pride underfoot. Get that divorce—and when it’s final, I’m marrying a woman who wants me the way I am.”

  With a soundless cry, Felicia crumpled. Sobs racked her body.

  John Henry looked down on the woman he’d loved since the first moment his eyes touched her, the woman who had given him more joy than he ever expected, more sorrow than he thought at times he could bear. Through it all he had stayed because of that love, stayed because of the children, then after they were grown, he kept hoping he would be enough for her. He needed a woman who needed him. Felicia never would.

  “You have two months.” Turning, he walked back to the house.

  * * *

  Madelyn was impressed with Daniel’s dinner arrangements that night, but she didn’t intend for him to know. Opening her front door, she didn’t act the least surprised to see a tuxedoed waiter with several silver domes on a serving cart and a second waiter behind him with a collapsible table. Her expression never changed.

  In less than five minutes, the table was set with white linen, sparkling water was chilling in an ice bucket, and Daniel was holding her chair for her. By her plate was a pink orchid.