He slowed and she glanced ahead. The glow in the distance changed into lit iron lanterns sitting on heavy stone posts. “How does that get called a lake?”
He slowed more as he spoke. “When there’s a perfect full moon and a breeze kicking up at night, the grass moves with the wind. It looks just like a body of water with waves rippling across it.”
“That’s Wolf Lake?”
“It is, but I suspect the name Wolf Lake came from a wish that there was a lake somewhere nearby. It certainly sounded better than Wolf Desert, or Wolf Barrens, or even Wolfville.”
Adam steered the truck through the entrance to the ranch, the same route she and Mallory had taken when they’d come for the party. But this time they turned away from the huge barn and went up a small rise to the main house. The two-story adobe hacienda sat in the night, lights blazing on both floors and about a dozen cars and trucks parked at a circle at the top of a cobbled driveway.
Holly and berries were strung around the porch and over the door, and when Adam pushed on the carved wooden barrier, laughter and music splashed out into the night. The main room went from the front of the house to the back wall that was all windows, except for an impressive stone fireplace in the middle.
Heavy leather furniture decorated the space. The ceiling soared above two stories. Christmas details dominated, from a tree standing in the raised entry where they stepped inside, with gifts piled under it, to garlands along the staircase railing. There were a lot of people, everyone in animated conversations.
“Merry, merry Christmas,” Adam’s mother called to them as she broke away from two couples near the fireplace. She was dressed in a pretty green velvet dress that set off her skin and eyes. She hugged Adam, then turned to Faith, who expected a handshake at the most, but found herself being hugged, too.
Lark stood back, looking from one to the other, and motioned to the party behind her. “Have a bit to eat, but not too much because dinner will be ready soon.”
“Where’s Dad?” Adam asked.
“Upstairs lying down for a minute. He might come down for dinner, but I told him he didn’t have to.”
“He’s okay?”
“Yes, except for Moses telling him what he can or can’t do for a while.” She smiled at Faith. “Herbert is so stubborn.”
Faith didn’t know what to say, so she just nodded, hoping it was okay to agree with her. “Thank you for inviting me,” she said.
“Oh, dear, I should thank you for coming.” She patted Faith on the arm. “I’ll send R.J. over for your jackets,” she said, and with that she was heading across the room toward a man carrying a tray of drinks. He came over to Faith and Adam.
“Your jackets?” he asked, his hand extended.
“How did she talk you into this?” Adam asked, shrugging out of his leather coat, handing it to him.
R.J. was as tall as Adam, probably around twenty or so and never stopped smiling. “Honestly, money. Your parents are very generous with the help.” He turned to take Faith’s jacket. “Have a great time,” he said and disappeared.
“R.J.’s Dent’s nephew,” he explained to Faith.
“The guests are family friends?” she asked, looking over the party of women in casual clothes and men mostly in jeans and loose shirts. Every one of the men seemed to be wearing cowboy boots.
“Mostly family,” Adam said, and for the next half hour or so, he hugged the ladies and shook hands with the men, all the time explaining to Faith who everyone was and how they were all connected.
She met aunts and uncles, godfathers, cousins, second cousins and plenty of folks to whom he referred to as “our people.” He meant the Wolf family—some were from the reservation, others from town and still others from farther away. She was overwhelmed, but Adam didn’t miss a beat. And by the time dinner was announced, she couldn’t remember who was who or how they were related. Thank goodness no one gave her a test. She would have failed miserably.
The dining room was large enough to hold a massive table that, from her calculations, held twenty-eight people for dinner, plus the two of them to make thirty. Lark sat at the foot of the table, but the chair at the head of the table was empty when Adam’s father didn’t come down for the meal.
Jack was still gone, and Adam’s younger brother, Gage, wasn’t there, either. “I never know where he is,” Adam told her as the first course was being served. “Gage travels all over for business. Last I heard he couldn’t even think of coming home until next month.”
“Adam,” Lark said, raising her voice for her son to hear her. “Gage will be here when he can be, and Jack will be, too.”
Her tone was firm and Adam didn’t argue. As they ate, Adam explained the food to Faith. The meal was a traditional one in the Wolf family. There were favorites of the boys—the tamales, the corn bread, a salsa that held more heat in a drop than most hot sauces did in a bottle. Faith’s eyes watered and Adam gave her a plain flour tortilla to eat to absorb most of the heat. The main course was “Our version of pheasant,” Adam explained. But she still didn’t know what it was called, because the name he gave it had no translation from their native tongue to English.
By the time dessert was serve—a small jar of honey provided to each diner and chunks of what looked like pound cake drizzled with a berry sauce—Faith had stopped asking for labels. She just enjoyed it, and if she couldn’t pronounce the names, she was okay with that.
When they adjourned to the living room again, Faith sat by Adam on a deep comfortable couch. She fought the urge to just lean into him and relax. She gazed around the room, at people who meant a lot to each other, an extended family that gave new meaning to the word extended, and she felt sad that both she and Adam had walked away from family. They had to be fools.
Lark stood up and got everyone’s attention. “Present time,” she declared and motioned to a couple of guests to help her. One by one gifts were taken from under the tree and given to each guest, accompanied by a kiss from Lark. The distribution was done so each person eventually had a gift in their lap, then Lark turned, motioned Adam to the tree. He got up, removed an ornament off a middle branch, then went to give it to his mother. He handed her what looked like a small blue foil box, then Lark crossed to Faith and handed it to her. “Merry Christmas,” the woman said softly, stooped and kissed Faith on the cheek. She then smiled, her arms outstretched to the room. “Everyone open your present.”
Faith stared at the small box in her palm, and Adam settled back by her. She met his gaze, hoping he couldn’t see the tears that were starting to form. “What is this?” she asked, hearing the tightness in her own voice.
“Open it,” he said softly, and his arm went around her shoulders. She undid the ribbon on the box with unsteady fingers, murmuring, “I didn’t get anyone anything.”
“You came. That’s present enough,” Adam said close to her ear, and the threat of tears increased.
She wished he wasn’t so close or so kind, and she wished she had never come. Wrong was wrong, and she’d really been wrong. Refusing the invitation would have been better than sitting here close to crying, wishing she could burrow into Adam’s hold and never leave.
Lark came to sit down by Faith. “Open it,” she urged gently.
Faith hesitated, then lifted the lid and found a smaller, hand-carved, circular box. She took it out and lifted the top to find a small, polished turquoise stone in the shape of a teardrop lying on a bed of white velvet.
“It’s a memory stone,” Lark said as she reached to pluck it out of the box and hold it up for Faith to see. “It stores up only good memories, and when things are hard or stressful,” she told Faith as she closed Faith’s fingers around the stone, “you can hold on to it and remember the best of times.”
Faith wanted so dearly to believe this—that she really could store up good memories for when she was
alone and scared. When she needed someone the likes of whom she’d never see again.
Adam laid his hand over hers, his fingers closing on hers, warm and gentle. “My grandfather, Jackson Wolf, found these stones when he was clearing the land years ago to build the original adobe north of here. He found enough for each child and each grandchild as they came along.”
Faith looked at him. “I can’t take this.”
“Of course you can. He made them for friends, too.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly. “He polished them and made the boxes, as well.” He let go of her and reached for the open neck of his shirt. He pushed his forefinger under his collar, then pulled back and he’d hooked a silver chain with a stone identical to the one she was holding. “I got mine when I was ten. The old man gave them when folks needed them, not at any set time or age.” He tucked it back under his shirt. “Mom wants you to have that, so you must need it.”
Faith exhaled, quickly put the stone back into the box and held on to it tightly. “Thank you so much,” she said to Lark in a voice that wasn’t entirely steady. She stood. “I’m sorry, but I really need to get back.”
Adam said nothing, and Lark simply gave her a hug and stepped back. “You are welcome here whenever you are in Wolf Lake.”
“Thank you,” she said, and R.J. was there with her jacket.
Adam held the jacket for her, then as she put it on, he lightly smoothed her shoulders. She picked up her purse but kept the box in her free hand.
Once in the truck, Faith sat very still, feeling the pressure of her grip on the box as they headed back to the inn. Adam glanced at her but didn’t speak until the ranch was behind them in the darkness. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine, but I feel badly that I didn’t have anything for your mother.” That was true, but so insignificant compared to what was going on inside her at that point.
“Believe me, she didn’t expect anything.”
What Faith thought of as an evening to get through had turned out to be so overwhelming that she could barely absorb it. “Thank you for taking me,” she said. Memories for the stone, she thought. Already she was storing them up for a future so uncertain that it frightened her.
His hand unexpectedly reached out to cover hers holding the box. “You’re upset,” he said, not a question, but a statement.
“I’m just... I didn’t expect anything like the party. I thought it was dinner, but your family, goodness, they were everywhere, and your mother was terrific, even though your dad’s been so sick. And I shouldn’t have gone.”
“Why?”
The single word froze her in place. Everything in her wanted to just tell him the truth, to get it out and let things fall where they may, but another part was terrified of doing that. She’d put him in such a bad position. He’d have to turn her in. He’d have to call the Feds and tell them where she was. And if he didn’t, if he chose not to, he would be putting everything he had on the line. His job, maybe even his own freedom.
She glanced at Adam, thankful he was watching the road, and she admitted to herself right then that she could love him. He was the type of man she’d hoped to meet one day, but now... “I shouldn’t even be here. If my car hadn’t broken down, I’d be long gone.”
“To where?”
“I don’t know. Someplace,” she said and drew away from his touch. She couldn’t stand it when all she wanted to do was hold on to him. “Anywhere.”
They were coming to the town, and Adam drew back to clutch the wheel with both hands. “To Illinois?”
She looked away, her heart hammering. “No, I can’t. I mean, I don’t want to.” That was such a lie. When she’d said she couldn’t, that had been the truth.
“Why? What’s going on there that made you leave in the first place?”
He’d hit the jackpot and she couldn’t even form the words to answer him. She knew he’d turned to look at her, but he didn’t speak again. He just waited and drove. “Just problems,” she finally said and moved closer to the door.
Adam was silent until they got to the inn and he pulled in to park. He left the truck idling and rested his arm along the back of the seat. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”
More than anything, but she couldn’t. It was her life and her mess, and she wouldn’t drag him into it. She knew he was an honorable man, that integrity would be everything to him, and if she was so self-indulgent as to spill everything, it would destroy even the memories she was going to leave with.
“No.”
“All right...maybe, someday, if you come back to Wolf Lake, I can take you to the old man’s land where he found the turquoise or we can go up to the lake. When the snow’s gone.”
She swallowed hard and didn’t say anything. He knew she wouldn’t be back. He must know that, but he kept up the charade. When the snow was gone, she’d be nowhere around here, and he’d just be a memory stored in a beautiful stone.
“You...you’re going back to Dallas, aren’t you?”
Adam seemed taken aback by that, but said, “For now, and you’re driving off into the unknown.”
She grimaced at his words. They were the stark truth. She was going into the unknown and she’d be doing it alone. Her choice, totally. And just because she cared so much about Adam, she knew that was her only choice.
She felt the seat shift and she thought Adam was getting out, but he wasn’t. He came closer to her, his hand lowering to the nape of her neck and his other hand lifted to cup her chin. “You don’t have to do this, whatever it is, by yourself,” he said on a strangled whisper.
She felt the burn of tears again, but this time she didn’t try to fight them. She knew she couldn’t win. They slipped down her cheeks as she looked up at Adam. She didn’t just care about this man—she loved him. Heaven help her, but she’d found that love that she knew instinctively was her one and only, and she’d have to walk away.
“Hey,” he said, his warm breath brushing across her skin. “Don’t cry, please.” His lips found hers.
The contact filled her world, pushing out everything, including her sanity. His fingers stroked her hair, her cheek, and for one moment of pure need, she answered his kiss with hers. Everything she felt was in that connection, then she made herself stop.
She pushed back, collected her things and fumbled with the handle until the door swung open. “Faith,” Adam said, “I meant it. I want to help.”
“Goodbye,” she said in a rush as she slipped out and her feet hit the snowy ground. She got to the door of the inn and made the mistake of looking back. Adam was still in the truck, his hands on the steering wheel, just watching her, not moving.
“Goodbye,” she whispered into the wind and went inside.
She hurried across to the stairs and didn’t pause, hoping to get up to her room without seeing anyone. She made it, got the door open and stepped inside when she heard someone downstairs. She took several breaths to calm her heartbeat, then sat down on the bed, and dropping her purse on the floor at her feet, she opened the carved box and took out the stone.
The perfectly polished turquoise lay on her open palm, and now she understood why it was shaped like a teardrop. Closing her hand around the small stone, she cried.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ADAM HAD GONE over and over what he could do and what he would do until dawn came, and he put in a call to his partner in Dallas. He gave him a list of things to track down for him, and after showering and dressing, he went into the main house to check on his dad, then wished he hadn’t.
Herbert Carson was in a foul mood, complaining about the fact that he couldn’t drive yet and that he needed to rest. Being a recovering alcoholic had given an edge to his dad that flared up from time to time, but he’d never lost his sobriety. Adam finally left, knowing his mother would keep his father in line, and he had things to do.
He’d thought about this all night. While he drove to town, he checked in with his partner, Ray, in Dallas and wasn’t surprised to find out that Baron Little was the head of Faith’s father’s defense team. But there was little else that Ray had found. That was okay with Adam; he didn’t want Ray any more involved, especially if this came to a head.
Still, Ray promised to keep checking on the list. When Adam got to Main Street, he stopped at the inn. He didn’t give up on much that was important to him, professionally and personally. That was an asset as a cop and in his personal life. He wasn’t about to give up on Jack. He wasn’t going to give up on Faith, either. He had until four o’clock, when Dent would release her car, and he intended to make those hours count.
While he waited for answers from Ray, he wasn’t going to stop hoping that Faith might confide in him. He got out of the truck and went inside the inn. Mallory was there, writing in the ledger on the desk. “Hey, there,” Adam said, going over to her. “Is Faith upstairs?”
“No, she left.”
He heart lurched. “She’s gone?”
“She went to the general store, then Dent’s to push him to get her car finished.”
“She’s still in town, then?”
“Yes, but not for long. As soon as the car’s fixed, she’s going, and Dent said he can get it done today.”
“Thanks,” Adam said, then hurried toward the door.
“Adam, do you want me to give her a message?”
He stopped and thought. “Do you have some paper and a pen?”
“Sure,” she said and took out a sheet of paper with the inn’s logo on it, and a pen.
Adam wrote a note to Faith, folded it, put it in a small envelope Mallory offered him, then sealed it. “Make sure she gets this the minute she gets back.”
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