by Myrna Temte
She gave him a nod that might have been encouraging if she hadn’t been frowning so fiercely at him. Then she took a gulp of coffee.
“Well, I’m afraid you had your way with me last night, and now that it’s daylight, you won’t respect me anymore.”
She stared at him for a second before her eyes bugged out and coffee spewed from her mouth in a startled, uncontrollable gush of laughter. Not exactly the neatest response he’d ever had, but he figured it could’ve been worse. At least she hadn’t inhaled it down her windpipe. Grabbing another napkin from the holder, he handed it to her.
She used it to mop up herself and the table. “You picked a heck of a time to find your sense of humor.”
Sam shrugged. “It was never lost. You’ve just never been around much when I was in the right mood. But hey, just ask anybody around here and they’ll tell you I can be real funny when I want.”
“Why do you want to be funny this morning?”
“I want to take those shadows out of your eyes. If I can do that by making you laugh, I’ll try real hard to be funny.”
“I’m all right,” she said with a lopsided smile.
“Are you? Are you really?”
She looked down at her hands and started shredding the remains of her doughnut onto the first napkin he’d given her. “Yes. I was afraid of the same thing, though…that you wouldn’t respect me this morning. I haven’t been with anyone in a long time, so there hasn’t been any need for me to use birth control. And I’ve never done anything quite like last night. You may not believe that, but—”
“I do believe that, Jules.” He reached across the small table, took the mangled doughnut from her fingers and set it aside. Her hand felt icy when he took it between his palms and gently chafed it. “This…thing we have between us is powerful. I’ve never felt anything quite like it before, either.”
The tension lines around her eyes and mouth smoothed out a little and her shoulders relaxed. “Really?”
“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “Spooks me, if you want to know the truth. I think that’s probably why I was so determined not to like you when you first showed up.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Well, you’re really not the kind of woman I’ve decided to marry, but I felt attracted to you the first time I saw you.”
“You did?”
“Oh, yeah. Didn’t you?”
“Well, yes.” She smiled as if the admission tickled her, then pulled her hand away and reached for her coffee again. “But I never thought of that as a reason to dislike someone. What sort of woman have you decided to marry?”
“Just a nice, traditional Cheyenne woman. One who’s as committed to ensuring the tribe’s survival as I am.”
Julia’s shoulders stiffened and her eyes narrowed. “By any chance, would she have to be a full-blooded Cheyenne?”
“That’s what I had in mind,” he admitted. “There aren’t that many of us left anymore. I figured I might even have to make a trip down to Oklahoma and visit the Southern Cheyenne to find the right gal.”
“So you don’t have any one particular woman in mind? No one you’re…in love with?”
“No.” Sam sighed with impatience, then pushed his chair back from the table and stretched his legs out. “The romantic love thing…well, it’s not important to me. I’m not sure I believe in it. I believe in respect, friendship, shared values and goals. And there would need to be a certain amount of physical attraction, of course.”
Julia’s eyes widened in disbelief, or maybe it was dismay. “Of course,” she agreed dryly. “But you don’t believe in love?”
He shook his head. “Tell you the truth, I haven’t had much luck with it. It’s not a requirement, that’s for sure.”
“I see,” she said, her voice soft, but tinged with anger.
He doubted that she did, and the pitying look she gave him made him doubt it even more. Of course she would believe in love and happily-ever-after. If ever there was an optimistic little Pollyanna, it was Julia. Just look at the way she’d dropped her whole life in Colorado and moved up here on the basis of a few weeks’ acquaintance with her dad and some other relatives. She didn’t even have enough sense of self-preservation to shield her feelings from others; those big blue eyes reflected everything going on inside her.
Suddenly, temper flared in her eyes, like the pilot light’s flame on an old gas range. She lowered her feet to the floor and stood, the robe billowing out around her. “Well, I appreciate your honesty about your plans.”
He didn’t like the tone of finality in her voice and now— now of all times—the expression in her eyes was impossible to read. “Wait a minute. Have I missed something here?”
“I don’t believe so. You know that I’m fine. I know that you’re planning to marry a ‘nice, traditional Cheyenne woman,’ preferably one who’s full-blooded. I’d say that makes everything perfectly clear to both of us.”
“Then why do I suddenly feel so confused?” Sam asked.
“Maybe it’s all the sleep you lost. I hope you find your perfect woman soon.” Her smile had a brittle quality to it, but she swept one hand toward the doorway with all the flourish of a doorman at a swanky hotel. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind leaving, I’m going back to bed.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Sam kept his behind in the chair as if to prove he meant what he said. “Not until I know what’s going on in that head of yours.”
“Oh, please, don’t make me play this out.” She shot him a dirty look, then continued when he didn’t budge. “We got caught up in the moment last night, and you made some impulsive statements about being there for me if the need arose.”
Pacing to the living-room doorway and back, she flicked her hand up beside her head like an actress delivering a line for the millionth time. “But you have your life planned out and I wouldn’t fit into it. Believe me when I tell you, I’ve been there before, and I understand what you’re trying to say perfectly. Somehow, I just never quite seem to fit in anywhere.”
“You think I came here to take back what I promised you?” Sam demanded. “Is that it?”
“Didn’t you?”
“No.”
Eyeing him with a wary yet puzzled expression, she returned to the table and sat back down. “All right. Perhaps you’d better explain it to me a bit more clearly. Why are you here?”
Sam took a gulp of coffee, hoping the hit of caffeine would clear the confusion from his mind. Honest to God, sometimes there was no talking to women. They just didn’t get anything a man tried to tell them, mainly because they were so damn busy jumping to ridiculous conclusions that had nothing to do with the subject under discussion. Sheesh!
“First, you better get one thing straight about me,” he said, sitting forward on his chair. “When I make a vow, you can bet your life I will honor it. I don’t like having my integrity questioned.”
“I didn’t mean to do that.”
“Well, that’s what you did. I don’t care what any other man in your life has done. I promised to be there if you need me, and I will be. If you are pregnant because of what we did last night, I won’t shirk my responsibilities to our baby or to you.”
She nodded slowly. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
He thought she still looked as if she wasn’t quite getting it, so he elaborated. “I think we should spend more time together. Then, if you are pregnant, it won’t be such a jolt for us to get married.”
“Married? Us? Are you crazy?”
“Hey, you’re the one who brought up the word bastard last night. I don’t want to put that on my kid.”
“I don’t, either, but you’re going way too fast, Sam. We don’t even know that I’m pregnant yet. And what about your plans to marry a traditional Cheyenne woman?”
He stood and pushed his chair back under the table. “Maybe that wasn’t meant to be. But for now, I’m just saying let’s go out, be a couple, get to know each other really well. No big harm in that, is
there?”
“No, I suppose not.”
Now she looked sort of like a disgruntled little bird, perched on the edge of the chair with her feathers all ruffled and a don’t-cross-me expression about her eyes.
“Gee, don’t overwhelm me with your enthusiasm,” he said.
She rewarded him with an obviously reluctant grin, but a grin nonetheless. He walked around the end of the table, grasped both of her hands and pulled her to her feet. Sliding a finger under her chin, he lifted it, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“Come on, it won’t be so bad. We were headed in this general direction anyway, weren’t we?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Eventually. Of course, I didn’t know about your grand life plan then.”
The worried little crease between her eyebrows told him that he never should have told her about that. She’d fret and stew and worry it like a dog with a big, juicy bone, and God only knew what conclusions she’d draw. Unless he gave her something else to think about.
Tipping her head back a little farther, he lowered his head and gently pressed a kiss to her mouth. Her lips trembled for an instant, then clung to his. He wrapped his free arm around her waist and pulled her closer.
He’d only meant it to be a distraction—a nice, solid, good-morning kind of a kiss—something for her to think about and smile over during the day. But she parted her lips and melted against him. Her kisses had a mocha flavor from the coffee and doughnuts. Under that fluffy, terry-cloth robe, she felt soft all over, and she smelled of warm, sleepy-woman smells.
Desire roared through his system with about as much subtlety as a charging buffalo bull. Oh, damn. Last night hadn’t even taken the edge off. He wanted to pick her up and haul her into that bedroom and do everything with her he hadn’t had time for the first time around.
Heaven knew, last night had been an incredibly exciting sexual experience. With the comfort of a real bed and privacy… he shouldn’t even think about it. He was already going to be late meeting his crew. But talk about temptation.
Dragging his mouth away, he gazed down at her pouting lips and passion-dazed eyes, and it took every scrap of self-control he owned to lower his arms and step away from her. They might not be the most obvious match in the world, but they certainly were in sync with each other sexually.
“I’ll take you to dinner tonight,” he said.
She shook her head as if trying to make her brain work better. “I need a little time. Give me a few days, all right?”
He agreed, not because he wanted to, but because he knew she wasn’t the only one who needed a little time to gain some perspective on their situation. “Okay. I’ll be in touch.”
She walked him to the door, and when she opened it, they were both startled to find Sara Talkhouse standing on the porch, hand raised as if she’d been getting ready to knock. Julia’s grandmother gave him a once-over that made his face feel awful damn hot. She stiffly returned his greeting, then stepped past him into the house.
Sam gave Julia an encouraging wink, but the knowing, disapproving glint in Sara’s black eyes would have made any man with half a brain feel grateful to beat a hasty retreat. In any measure of protectiveness, a Cheyenne grandmother ranked right up there with a female grizzly. Sam would just as soon avoid tangling with either one.
“Coward,” Julia muttered, glaring after Sam’s rapidly shrinking pickup. When she could no longer postpone it, she shut the front door and turned to face her grandmother. Fists propped on her ample hips, Sara scowled at Julia’s robe. Barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes like an exasperated teenager, Julia led the way to the kitchen.
Sara followed only a step behind. “Pretty damned early in the morning for a visitor.”
Julia filled the coffeemaker’s carafe with water. “Yes, it is. Why are you here, Grandmother?”
“Never mind why I’m here. What was that Sam Brightwater doin’ here?”
“He brought breakfast.” Julia nodded toward the empty plastic cups and the doughnut sack on her table, then scooped coffee grounds into a filter paper. “It was nothing for you to get upset about.”
Sara flicked one hand, shooing away that last remark as she would a pesky fly. “He didn’t stay the night?”
“No,” Julia said.
Tilting her head slightly to one side, Sara studied Julia’s face intently, as if trying to decide whether she was telling the truth. After a moment, she grunted, walked over to the table and helped herself to a doughnut. She ate half of it before coming back to lean against the counter beside Julia while they waited for the coffee to finish dripping.
“You must be careful, nexahe,” Sara said. “Cheyenne women have always been admired for their chastity. Sam is a good man, but I don’t want you to be hurt. You deserve a commitment from your man.”
“Please, don’t worry about me,” Julia said. “I’m a grownup now. I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Sara grumbled. “That’s what your papa said, too, when he was sniffin’ around your mama. I told him and told him she was gonna break his heart. And she did.”
“Well, she didn’t walk away unhurt, either,” Julia said, though why she felt this sudden need to defend her mother, she honestly didn’t know.
“That’s right.” Sara crossed her arms over her bosom and nodded repeatedly. “That’s exactly right. Those two, they broke the rules, they had to pay the price.”
Julia raised her chin and straightened her shoulders. “I know all about it. I was the price.”
Sara’s voice softened. “Your mama wasn’t good to you?”
“She did the best she could, but it was never easy.” Turning away, Julia filled two cups with coffee and handed one to Sara. “Her family wouldn’t even speak to her, much less help her.”
“Then you do know why I am concerned to find Sam here before the sun is even halfway up. If he wants to sleep with you, he should marry you first.”
“I don’t want to talk about Sam right now, Grandmother,” Julia said. “Tell me about my parents. Did they ever really love each other?”
Sara walked over to the table and sat down with a weary sigh. “Yeah, they did. Danny never did get over your mama, and I think if they’d been the same race, she probably would’ve married him.”
“That was really the only thing that kept them apart?”
“It was still a pretty big thing back then, you know? And her folks were awfully stubborn. I didn’t know ’em too well, but it was clear to me they never would’ve accepted Danny as a son-in-law.”
“They never accepted me as a granddaughter, either.” Julia sat across from her. “Her relationship with them was ruined, anyway, so why didn’t she just marry him and live out here with him?”
“White people aren’t the only ones who have trouble with mixing races,” Sara said. “There were a lot of Indian women who had their eyes on your daddy, and they weren’t happy to see him go off with a white woman. I doubt your mama ever felt welcome on the res.”
“That’s so sad, Grandmother.”
“Yeah, it is.” Sara reached across the table and squeezed Julia’s hand. “They could’ve had a lot of good times raisin’ you together. That’s why I want you to be more careful, you know? Like I said, Sam’s a good man. I’ve always liked him a lot, but don’t you let him use you.”
“I appreciate your concern,” Julia said. “But these are choices I have to make for myself. You can’t protect me from every mistake.”
Sara shrugged. “So who’s tryin’ to protect you from every mistake? I’ll be happy if I can stop you from makin’ one or two big ones. I would especially hate to see you give your heart to the wrong man.”
“I’ll be fine,” Julia said. Inside, however, a small voice insisted on asking, But what if it’s already too late?
Eleven
Julia carried the last box of books into her classroom, set it on a student desk and glanced around, mentally listing all of the things she still needed to do. Difficult as it was
to believe, the summer reading program and her job at the Hip Hop were both finished, and she only had one more week before school started. She usually loved the crazy, hectic rush to get ready for the first bell of a new school year, but this time she felt strangely ambivalent.
Not because of the children, of course. There was nothing she enjoyed more than watching a child’s face light up with dawning comprehension of a new concept that previously had been unclear. She hoped to see and share that excitement often with her Laughing Horse students, and she had no reason to believe anything different would happen.
Oh, there were always a few kids in every class who gave the teacher fits, whether from lack of ability, lack of interest or a lack of willingness to put forth the effort necessary to learn what was expected of them. Julia had had enough experience in dealing with such students to feel confident of her own ability to cope. If it wasn’t the prospect of her new job making her feel so…unsettled, then what was it?
Crossing her arms over her midriff, she hugged herself to ward off a sudden chill and wandered over to the bank of windows facing west. Was it Sam and the new relationship they were building? She suspected that was part of her problem, but not nearly all of it.
In the week since they had made love, she had actually seen very little of him. She had asked him for a few days, and he had given them to her. Besides, what with finishing up her two summer jobs, Julia simply hadn’t had much time left to spend alone with Sam.
Privacy had also become an issue in their relationship. In many ways, the reservation was like any other small town. A busy road went right by her little house. If Sam left his pickup parked outside her house, especially overnight, somebody was liable to see it and comment on it. Going to Sam’s house wasn’t much better, since there was always the danger that her father might see her or simply walk across the road for a friendly visit.
After her grandmother’s reaction to seeing Sam at her house so early in the morning, Julia hated to risk incurring her father’s disapproval, as well. She knew, however, that if she and Sam wanted to be alone together badly enough, they would find a way. Her restlessness involved more than her relationship with Sam. It involved her relationship with the reservation as a whole.