Eight
“What are we going to do tonight?” Jenny asked the fourteen girls sitting in her classroom. They were between eight and eighteen. Nine of them were pregnant.
“No drinking, no drugs,” they chanted in unison. All except Cyndy in the back.
“And?” she prompted, keeping an eye on Cyndy.
“Do our homework, go to school tomorrow.”
“Good job, girls. Remember—call me if you need to. Otherwise, I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” Everyone gathered their things, snagged the last of the cookies to go and headed out. Except Cyndy.
She hadn’t said anything during the TAPS meeting, which was unusual. Her eyes and nose were red. Jenny hoped that she hadn’t skipped school today and gotten high. She sat beside the girl, waiting. Cyndy was still here, so there was still hope.
“I can’t do this, Jenny.” Cyndy threw herself into Jenny’s arms, the sobs ripping through her. “I just can’t.”
Jenny’s throat caught. Cyndy was only a year older than Jenny had been when she’d gotten pregnant. “What happened, honey?”
“Tige broke up with me. He doesn’t care about me or the baby.”
Yeah, she’d been there, too. Some days were good days—a girl had a healthy baby, another girl didn’t get pregnant.
But today? Today was not one of the good days. Today was going to break her heart.
“Oh, honey.” Of course, she hadn’t figured Tige would man up. But telling Cyndy that would be pouring salt in the wound, and that wasn’t her job here. Her job was to keep Cyndy from doing something that she’d spend the rest of her life regretting.
“My mom says I have to give it up and my grandma says that if I give it up then it won’t be a Lakota anymore,” Cyndy wept. “But I don’t want to have it. I can’t.”
Jenny was going to have a talk with Bertha Speaks Fast. “No matter where that baby is,” she said, patting Cyndy’s seven-month-pregnant stomach, “it’ll always be Lakota.”
“I can’t” was all Cyndy could say.
“Did you get high today? Drink?” When the girl shook her head no, Jenny exhaled in relief. “I’m sorry, honey, it’s too late for an abortion.”
As a rule, Jenny didn’t support abortion. But she’d seen too many babies born with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome or addicted to drugs, too many babies who were neglected and abused because their parents didn’t know that they had to feed or change a crying infant. Reality dictated that she keep all options open.
Jenny’s mother had made her keep her baby and had made darned sure Jenny didn’t mess up everyone’s life. Everything she’d learned about being a mother had come from Frances Wawasuck.
When Cyndy’s sobs had finally subsided into hiccups, Jenny said, “Honey, you have to do what’s right for you and for your baby. If you want to keep it, your family and the tribe will be here for you. If you decide to place the baby with a loving family, then I’ll put you in touch with an adoption counselor. There’s no right or wrong here.”
This brought on more tears. Jenny rubbed her back. “Go home and get some sleep. Tomorrow, after you go to school, we’ll make a plan.”
“Okay,” the girl sniffled.
“One day at a time.” Jenny wrapped up the last cookie and sent Cyndy home.
Then she turned her attention to the envelope from the South Dakota Department of Social Services. Please be a check, she prayed as she opened it. When she’d started TAPS, she’d had enough funding to serve a hot meal to the girls every afternoon. It was the only dinner some of them got. She got a small stipend out of it, too, most of which had gone directly into Seth’s college fund. The rest had gone to a new-car fund.
However, the state was behind on its bills. Months behind. She’d cut the meals back, but it hadn’t taken long before she couldn’t pay the cook to stay late. Now she was paying for milk and cookies out of her own pocket. Soon, she wouldn’t even be able to do that.
She refused to give up hope. These girls—girls in a difficult spot like she’d been—needed an adult they could trust. Some of them had involved parents or grandparents, but most of them didn’t. If Jenny hadn’t had her mom, God only knew where she’d be now. Certainly not a college graduate with a good job, able to take care of herself and her son.
That’s what she wanted all the girls to have, too. A chance to become the women they wanted to be. To that end, Jenny gave them unconditional support, a strict set of well-being rules and made darned sure they got the most education they could. After the babies came, the girls could keep coming to the meetings. This was a safe place for them, and Jenny was going to keep it that way, come hell or high water.
So she took a deep breath and opened the envelope. Her heart sank as she read the brief letter. Not only would the state be unable to pay its months-old debt, it wasn’t even going to try. And there would be no more money.
Her program—her mission—was officially dead.
She couldn’t stop, though. That would mean leaving girls like Cyndy twisting in the wind.
She gathered her things and turned off the light in her room. If she stopped buying cookies, she could stretch the money left in Seth’s college fund to cover milk for several more months—at least through the New Year. Long enough to make sure Cyndy and a few of the other girls safely delivered their babies. And after that?
Lost in thought, Jenny straightened the room and peeked out the window. The production truck was gone, but the door to the shop was open and light spilled out. At least Billy was still here. Kissing him yesterday had been…well, it had been something. It had been years since she’d kissed a man. No, wait—scratch that. She’d never kissed a man. Only boys who thought they were men. Boys slept with girls and abandoned them. Men took responsibility for their actions.
Billy, she sensed, was a man.
She honestly couldn’t tell if he’d liked the kiss or not and before she could figure it out, Seth had come in.
But…she’d put herself out there. Way out there. She’d liked the feel of Billy’s lips against hers—heck, she hadn’t even minded the way his beard scratched at her chin. There’d been something deliciously naughty about it—which had to be why it felt so out of character. Jenny Wawasuck didn’t mess around. And yet…
True, a kiss was just that, but she’d managed to fluster herself so badly that she hadn’t even been able to bring herself to deliver a cup of tea out to Billy this morning.
But that’s where she was headed now—the shop. Today she wasn’t even trying to lie to herself that this was about Seth.
She’d had a long day. She wanted to see Billy, to have him give her one of those looks, those light touches, that set her heart racing. She wanted to forget about budget cuts and unborn babies and that constant feeling of treading water but never quite getting anywhere.
Seth was sweeping up already. Talking with Cyndy must have taken longer than she’d realized. Billy sat at his table, studying what she assumed were plans. In the middle of the floor sat a hunk of welded metal that, at the moment, looked nothing like a motorcycle.
“Hey,” Seth said, sweeping his pile of dirt out of her way as she headed for the table. “I just started.”
“No rush, sweetie.”
“Mom…”
Right, right. Guys who built things probably didn’t get called “sweetie” in the shop. Billy looked up at her and smiled. Sort of. It was one of those looks where the corners of his mouth crooked up almost imperceptibly. But she perceived it anyway.
She gestured toward the angular metal on the ground. “Looks good.”
His lips moved even more. Oh, yes, he was smiling. Some of the tension of her day melted away. “You can tell that, huh?”
“Oh, sure. Very…metallic.”
His gaze drifted down to her lips and back up, which sent a shot of heat through her.
Maybe yesterday, she’d taken him by surprise. Maybe today, he’d kiss her.
Except for Seth. So she redirected. “How was your day? I saw y
our brother was here early.”
The warmth drained from Billy’s face. “It was a day. You?”
When was the last time someone had asked her about her day—someone who wasn’t her mother? “Long,” she admitted with a shrug.
“Anything I can do to help?”
The way he said it—all serious, with an intent look on his face that made it clear that he would quite possibly do whatever she asked—left her feeling a little unsteady. In the best way possible.
“Not unless you’ve got a few extra thousand dollars lying around,” she joked. “The funding for my after-school program got cut, and they aren’t going to pay the overdue bills.” But he didn’t take it as a joke. Instead, his scowl deepened—like it had yesterday, when she’d carelessly lobbed out her “Maybe.”
“What?”
“It always comes down to money, doesn’t it?” He slammed his hand on the table, making all of the tools and things rattle about. “That’s all anyone ever wants. Money.”
He glared at her, but she refused to back down. “I’m not asking you to pay for TAPS, you know. I thought we were having a conversation.”
“I’m already building this bike. I’m already giving my time to the school. I don’t have anything else to give.” It was more of a snarl than a statement, punctuated by another smack on the table.
“You’re trying to scare me again, but it won’t work,” she said in a low voice so that Seth wouldn’t hear her. She leaned in closer to Billy. “I’m not afraid of you.”
Then the strangest thing happened. Billy Bolton, currently the meanest-looking man she knew, blushed. And not one of those delicate reddening of the cheeks—oh, no. He shot hot pink, the color turning his ears an unusual shade of red. Heck, even his neck—the part she could see—turned red.
The next thing she knew, he was up and moving, heading for the door with his head down, like a bull ready to do some damage to a neighborhood china shop.
She followed him out into the dim evening light. He’d covered a good deal of ground before he came to a stop, head down and hands on his hips. Not that he had hips. But, from this angle, she could see that he had a heck of a backside. One that, no doubt, matched all the muscles she’d seen a few days ago.
He heard her coming. “You should be, you know,” he said without raising his head. “You should be very afraid of me.”
“Give me one good reason.” She circled around him.
“I’m not a nice guy, Jenny. I’m not even a good one. I have the reputation and the arrest record to prove it. No amount of money will ever change that. If you knew what was good for you and that boy of yours, you’d run from me right now.”
He said it not as if he were proud of it, but as though he was resigned to carrying that burden of toughness for the rest of his life. He sounded tired.
Arrest record? She swallowed. Surely Josey would have mentioned something about a rap sheet before she agreed to let Billy work with children? Jenny knew a smart woman would probably take his advice and bail. He’d given voice to her worst fears—or at least, the fears she’d had a few days ago. Funny how much could change in a week.
She stepped in closer and saw the tension ripple through his shoulders. Moving slowly, she put her hand on his chest. She’d pushed him—or tried to, anyway—in that same spot on the first day. That had been the first time he’d confused her, when instead of pushing her back, he’d held on to her.
Like he did now. His fingers covered hers, and he pressed her hand into his chest. It was not the touch of a violent, dangerous man, no matter what he tried to tell her.
With her other hand, she ran her fingertips down his cheek, over his beard, and under his chin before she pulled his face up. “I am not afraid of you,” she repeated in a breathy whisper.
This time, his hands cradled her waist. This time, he was going to dance with her. “You should be,” he replied, pulling her in closer. “You should be.”
“I’m not.”
Later, she would be hard-pressed to say if she kissed him or if he kissed her. Later, all she would be able to say for certain was that she’d been hard-pressed against all of those muscles. Against Billy.
If yesterday’s kiss had been nice, this one was a revelation. Her knees buckled under the force of Billy’s mouth, but it didn’t matter. He not only held her, but he also lifted her up as if she weighed next to nothing. She could feel his desire coiled below the surface of his skin as if he were waiting to unleash it all on her.
There were no confusing looks or miscommunicated ideas. This was a statement. He wanted her—all of her. It didn’t matter that she had a teenaged son or was a boring schoolteacher or that she was perpetually broke. He still wanted her. In his arms, she felt lighter than a feather, lighter than air, even.
Despite the fact that he could pretty much do whatever he wanted with her, including throwing her over his shoulder and hauling her off—his tongue traced her lips, asking for permission. When she opened herself for him, though, he kissed her so hard that he almost bent her over backward.
As much as she didn’t want that moment to end, she felt as though she were losing her balance. She pushed back. He let her, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he hugged her even harder. A deep rumble came directly out of his chest—the sound of pure satisfaction.
Folded within his muscular arms, she could feel his heart pounding through the fancy black T-shirt he wore. He was warm and solid and so strong it didn’t matter that her feet weren’t, in fact, on the ground. It felt like some part of her that she’d long ago shoved aside was waking up in his arms—the sensual, feminine part. She hugged him back, her face buried in the crook of his neck. The tang of metal and leather filled her nose, plus a deep, earthy musk that was his and his alone.
It ended slowly. First, he set her down, then he let her go. Each movement took several seconds, almost as if he was afraid that he’d never get this contact again.
As far as she was concerned, that wasn’t an option. She smiled at him, feeling almost silly. “Feels a little naughty, kissing this close to the school.”
He brushed her hair away from her face and cupped her cheek in his hand. “Maybe we should try to do that someplace else.”
“Are you asking me out on a date?” The concept seemed foreign. Even when she’d been young and far too into boys, a formal request for a date had never happened. Other things had happened—obviously—but no one had ever asked her out before.
There it was again—that tired look. He was such a mystery to her. “I’m always working,” he muttered, looking guilty.
“And I’m always at school.”
“Not always. What do you do after you leave here?”
That struck a more hopeful note in her. “I cook dinner, do the dishes, hound Seth about his homework, talk to any girls that call and…fall into bed. And I do it all again the next day.” He notched an eyebrow at her. It was a good look on him. “I catch up on house stuff on the weekends. Some of that stuff could keep, though….”
He nodded in understanding, then leaned down and kissed her forehead. It wasn’t a huge thing, but the tenderness of it had her blushing again. “I’m going to ask you out on a date, Jenny, I promise. I want to take you out—someplace special. A night like you deserve.”
God, that sounded wonderful—a night of nothing but her and him. A night like she hadn’t had in, well, ever. “When?”
His chest heaved with a massive sigh. “The thing is, I’ve got to deal with my brother Bobby first. I don’t want you on camera. You and I don’t exist when there’s a camera around.”
At first, she was hurt by his words. How could they not exist after a searing kiss like that? But then the rest of what he’d said sunk in. They didn’t exist on camera. He was protecting her.
“You can try to tell me you’re not a good guy, but I know the real you, William Bolton.” She turned her head and kissed the palm of his hand. “Let me know when you get it figured out. I’ll be here.”
She got a full-on smile that time. He practically beamed at her. One kiss—okay, it had been two kisses—wasn’t going to be enough. She’d like to say that she hadn’t felt this way in years, but honestly? She wasn’t sure she’d ever felt this kind of pull for a man before. The way he made her body quiver with a gentle touch—to say nothing of the less-than-gentle touches—was something she was going to need a lot more of. The sooner the better. And, by the look on his face, he felt the same way.
“Yeah,” he said, tracing her lips with his thumb, “I know where to find you.”
Nine
As hard as it was, Jenny managed to wait until after Seth had closed his bedroom door before she bit the bullet and called Josey. Jenny didn’t have a cell phone with all those unlimited anytime everybody minutes, so she saved calling Josey on her landline for emergencies.
And kissing Billy Bolton after he’d mentioned an arrest record was an emergency if she’d ever heard of one.
Josey answered on the third ring. “Hello?”
“It’s me.”
“You want me to call you back?”
Jenny smiled. Thanks to a trust fund, Josey had never hurt for money—and now that she was married to Ben Bolton, she never would. Still, she understood how the little things added up. Josey had unlimited anytime everybody minutes. It was thoughtful of her not to make Jenny pay for the call. “Yeah.”
They hung up and Jenny sat, waiting. When her phone rang, she answered it before the end of the first ring.
“What’s up? Is everything okay?”
Now there was a question Jenny would love to have an answer to. She opened her mouth to ask about Billy, but at the last second, she blinked. “It’s official. Not only am I not getting any more TAPS funding from the state, but they’re not going to bother covering back payments.”
“Oh, no.” Josey paused. “How much longer can you keep it going?”
Jenny rubbed her eyes. This was not the conversation she wanted to have. She wanted to know more about Billy, to find out that her trust in him wasn’t totally misplaced. She wanted to not think about her mission in life dying a small, whimpering death at the hands of budget cuts.
Bringing Home the Bachelor Page 7