A Father's Vow

by Myrna Temte

  “Yeah, I could have.” He gave her a wry smile and a half shrug. “But I kept thinking you might change your mind and come with me instead.”

  She sauntered closer, a sassy smile on her face that made him want to grab her and kiss the daylights out of her. “You mean you’ve never met a woman who’s as stubborn as you are before?”

  “Not lately. And never one I wanted as much as I want you.” He reached out and tweaked the end of her ponytail. “I’ve missed you, Stedman.”

  “I’ve missed you, too, Brightwater.”

  “Let’s go somewhere. We’ll have dinner. Be alone.”

  She glanced down at her shorts and blouse, then gave a rueful laugh. “I’ve been playing volleyball. I’m not exactly dressed to go out.”

  “You look fine. We don’t have to go anywhere fancy. I know a real nice little place down in Big Timber.”

  “Oh, Sam…”

  “Oh, Jules.” He gave her his best coaxing grin. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

  “Well, all right. But I have teachers’ meetings all day tomorrow. I can’t be out too late.”

  “Deal. I’ll have you home by midnight.”

  With any luck at all, he’d have figured out a way to get back on her good side by then. Somehow, over the past couple of months, she’d become an important part of his day. Often the best part of his day. He really had missed her, and since they’d both admitted to being stubborn, it was time they learned how to get along with each other.

  Twelve

  For the first five minutes after Sam whisked her into his pickup, parked three spaces down the street from her car, Julia wondered if she’d made a mistake. He’d acted like a jerk both during and since their last argument, and he hadn’t said he was sorry in so many words. Oh, she knew he regretted the rift between them; so did she. But she would have appreciated hearing a simple apology.

  Still, she really had missed the big lug. He glanced over and smiled at her, and it felt as if he’d reached inside her chest and gently squeezed her heart. Lord, but she loved his face; especially his heartfelt smiles, like the one he’d just given her. It was much easier to stay angry at him when she couldn’t see him.

  While she honestly had enjoyed attending Melissa’s party, being with Sam felt better. She could survive just fine without him, but his presence added a spice to her life that always made her hungry for more of his company. Mismatched as they occasionally seemed to be, they also had moments such as this one, when they seemed to belong together.

  Highway 191 south to Big Timber was busy with holiday traffic. The day had held a full measure of summer’s heat, but a welcome hint of fall tinged the twilight air pouring from the truck’s vents. A pleasant sense of anticipation grew and expanded between them during the short ride.

  When Sam pulled into the parking lot of a rustic-looking restaurant off Interstate 90 with an attached, modern motel, Julia easily caught the wistful glance he sent in the motel’s direction. She didn’t blame him; she wanted exactly the same thing he did, and here they would have blessed privacy.

  Before he could open his door, she reached over and grasped his shoulder.

  “I had a lot to eat at the picnic.”

  “You did?” His eyes widened as the meaning behind her words sank in. “You’re not…hungry then?”

  She slowly shook her head. “Not for food.”

  He took her hand from his shoulder and kissed her knuckles, sending a ripple of shivers skating across her nerve endings. “Are you sure you want this?”

  “Don’t you? If I’m acting too bold or something, just say so. Of course, I’ll shrivel up and die of embarrassment, but—”

  “Too bold?” His full, rich laugh filled the cab of the pickup, and he gave her hand a sharp tug, pulling her mouth within kissing distance. After taking full advantage of their proximity, he exhaled a deep, shuddering breath, then rubbed his nose against hers. “Between us there’s no such thing as too bold. I thought I’d have to do a lot of crawlin’ and apologizin’ before you’d ever let me touch you again.”

  “I don’t play games like that. One disagreement doesn’t make me stop wanting you,” she said.

  “I like the way you think, woman.” He kissed her again, then practically lunged out of the pickup. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

  He took four steps toward the motel office, turned and came back to the truck, motioning for her to roll down the window. “There’s a white sack in the glove box. You could get it out while I’m inside.”

  Puzzled at the amusement lurking in his eyes, she nodded. When he’d left again, she retrieved the small, plain sack and set it on the seat beside her. The temptation to peek inside it grew stronger with every second that ticked off on the dashboard clock. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have a clue, and he hadn’t said she shouldn’t look, had he?

  She held out as long as she could, telling herself it was Sam’s property and she had no business being such a snoop. But he was gone so long, the suspense finally became too much for her. After “accidentally” knocking the sack off the seat, she “accidentally” picked it up the wrong way, and the economy-size box of condoms “accidentally” slid out onto her lap.

  She was still giggling when Sam returned to the truck. With a wicked grin, he plucked the box out of her lap, kissed her hard, then drove around to the back side of the motel and led her to a room on the second floor. Barely a yard beyond the closed door they were in each other’s arms.

  He put his hands at her waist and lifted her against him. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, exulting in his kiss while he carried her across the room. Even if the decor had been a gaudy bordello red and gold, she would have missed it. From the moment he laid her on the king-size bed, the only thing she wanted to see was Sam.

  Admiring her body with his eyes, his fingertips, his lips, he gently stripped away her doubts and inhibitions along with her clothes, murmuring earthy words of approval that made her feel more beautiful than a goddess. She grasped the loose hem of his shirt and pushed it up to his armpits, desperately wanting to get it off and clear her way to torment him as lovingly as he was tormenting her. His hard belly muscles rippled when she kissed her way from his navel to his breastbone.

  She reached behind him and tried to pull the shirt off over his head, and only succeeded in getting his braids and the leather medicine pouch he wore around his neck tangled in the shirt’s fringes. He grumbled nonsensical curses while she pretended fierce concentration on the task of freeing him, and in reality set about untying the ends of his braids. Rather than simply unwinding, his hair sprang loose from its ties as if it were escaping.

  She combed her fingers through the thick, glossy strands, following them down to his shoulders and beyond to his nipples. His long hair combined with his sculptured muscles and his brown, smooth skin and the heat in his eyes to form the most erotic picture of a man she’d ever seen.

  “You hunk, you,” she said, hooking one hand behind his neck to draw him close for a kiss. “You could have your own calendar if you wanted.”

  He snorted with laughter, pushed her flat on her back and leaned over her. “You think so?”

  “Well, you’d probably have to take off your jeans and boots.” She undid the button at the waist of his jeans, then slowly pulled down the zipper. “Why don’t you go ahead and do that, and I’ll check it out for you?”

  “You just want to get me naked.”

  “So? You got a problem with that?” she asked.

  “No, no. I’m just not used to being such a…sex object.”

  It was her turn to snort. Reaching her hands around to the small of his back, she slid them down inside his pants and pinched his hard buttocks. “You want me to love you for your mind? Now?”

  He gaped at her as if it had never occurred to him that she might entertain such lusty thoughts, much less express them, then collapsed on the bed and rolled onto his back, hooting with laughter. She finished stripping him, stretched out beside him
and indulged her desires to explore his body with her hands and mouth. Everything had happened so fast the first time, she had a myriad of fantasies she wanted to fulfill.

  Feeling as if she were playing with an enormous, good-natured mountain lion who enjoyed nothing more than being petted, she stroked and kissed her way from his chin, on down the center of his chest. His skin was sleek, smooth and hot to the touch. The scars he’d picked up in a lifetime of physical labor provided fascinating side trips for exploration.

  He had several endearingly ticklish spots, but his laughter abruptly ceased when she reached his navel. He lay absolutely still, his chest and stomach muscles rigid with pent breath. Studying him from the corners of her eyes, she moved lower, tantalizing herself as she tantalized him, coming closer and closer, but never quite reaching what they both wanted.

  His hips arched off the bed when she finally caressed his straining shaft, and his breath hissed out when she took him into her mouth. Having such a powerful effect on him made her feel powerful in her own right. Then suddenly her world flipped over. Flat on her back, she discovered how much leashed strength her good-natured mountain lion possessed.

  For a man so violently aroused, he demonstrated incredible patience in bringing her to the same pitch of excitement. His big hands moved over her yearning flesh with the strength and sensitivity of a sculptor. He worshiped her with his mouth and his wonderful hair. When he finally used one of the condoms and united their bodies, she nearly moaned with relief.

  “You feel so good,” he murmured.

  He held himself rigidly poised above her until she flexed her hips, taking in more of him. He gave her even more with a downward stroke, and together they entered that lovers’ banquet of sensation where one moment stretched, then blended into the next until time lost any normal sort of meaning. There was only here and now, this bed and this man, slowly and relentlessly taking her to new levels of passion she’d never imagined.

  She had thought their first time together had been wonderful. Now, her body wept with the pleasure of it, strained and sweated with the excitement and exertion of it, struggled with his to find the ultimate joy a man and a woman can bring to each other. He moved smoothly and steadily inside her, creating the most delicious friction. She never, ever wanted this to end, and at the same time felt she would surely die if they didn’t finish soon.

  Suddenly a keening sound filled the room, dazzling colors went off inside her tightly clenched eyelids and her inner muscles clamped around his shaft with a will of their own. A lusty shout of pleasure came from his lips, mingling with the keening sound, which she finally figured out she was making. He stroked harder and faster, harder and faster, pounding into her as if their very lives depended on triggering that final, devastating climax.

  And then it happened, with more colors, more shouts and the most exquisite, floating sensation. He kissed her gently, as if in gratitude. Then he collapsed onto his side, slid an arm under her waist and rolled onto his back, bringing her along until she landed on top of him in a boneless sprawl.

  He wrapped his arms around her, cuddling her close while their hearts thumped in unison and their ragged breathing slowly quieted. She had never felt so cherished as she did at this moment, never known such peace. Sighing with pleasure, she nuzzled his chest, smiling to herself when he gathered her tousled hair into one hand and smoothed it down her back. Content simply to lie here and enjoy his embrace, she felt surprised when he broke the silence.

  “I apologize for not taking you to your picnic. I guess I just don’t feel very comfortable anymore when I have to be around so many whites.”

  Julia raised onto one elbow and studied his eyes, finding the direct gaze that accompanies an honest statement. “I don’t understand, Sam. Of all the people on the res, you should be one of the most comfortable with white people.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “You went to college with them for four years. You work in town most of the time.”

  “That’s different,” Sam said. “Those are business relationships. I don’t socialize with them.”

  “Why not?”

  “The survival and well-being of the tribe are my real mission in life. I only have so much time, energy and money, and I’m careful where I spend ’em. I don’t need friendships with outsiders.”

  Feeling chilled, Julia sat up, grabbed a pillow from the rumpled bedclothes and hugged it against her breasts. “What if I do?”

  “You’ve got family at the res. You’ve got me and Maggie and a whole bunch of other friends. Starting tomorrow, you’ll be working at a very important job for our people. What do you need white people for?”

  “That’s not the point, Sam. I believe people are more alike than they are different, and I don’t see divisions as clearly as you seem to. I’ve always had white friends, and I don’t intend to give them up just because I live at Laughing Horse.”

  He swung his legs over the side of the bed, then reached for his jeans and underwear. “Who’s asking you to?”

  “I thought you were.”

  “Nope, not me. You can have any friends you want, Julia. Just remember there may come a time when you’ll have to choose whose side you’re on.”

  “Don’t you think you’re being a little melodramatic?”

  He shrugged one shoulder, then admitted, “Could be. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

  For the first week after Labor Day, Sam felt lucky if he was able to catch Julia on the telephone. There was a frenzy of activity at the new school, and he figured all of the teachers were just about living over there in the final rush to get ready for the fall semester. After classes started the next Monday, Julia continued to be swamped, sorting out reading and math groups, science experiments, art projects, correcting papers and always more teachers’ meetings.

  Sam had never realized how hard teachers worked. As if her school duties weren’t enough, Julia was also taking a beading class in the after-school program taught by the tribal elders. By the third Saturday in September, he would have done almost anything to spend a little time with her. Just his luck she wanted to shop at every garage and estate sale in Whitehorn.

  “Tell me you’re not serious,” Sam said when she made her request. He would eventually give in, but he felt the need to make a token protest. After all, he didn’t want her to think he actually liked looking at other people’s junk.

  Julia simply smiled, then picked up her purse and newspaper, and led him out her front door. “I’m really good at refinishing tables and chairs and end tables, and we don’t have much left in the budget for the teachers’ lounge. So, I volunteered to help locate furniture we can fix up ourselves. I also want to find a big old, claw-footed bathtub for my classroom.”

  “A bathtub?” Sam asked.

  Laughing, she grabbed his arm and hustled him the rest of the way to his pickup. Once they were settled in for the ride, she explained further. “Kids love to curl up with a book in a private, comfortable place. I’ll paint the bathtub in bright colors and make a big cushion and pillows for it. Then the kids who finish their work get to take turns lying in it with their library books.”

  “Makes reading a book a reward,” Sam said. “Sneaky, Teach. Very sneaky. What if they fall asleep?”

  “I assume they must have needed the rest and don’t make an issue of it. They rarely abuse it.”

  “Need any help painting it?”

  “Is that an offer?” Julia asked.

  “If you want it to be.”

  “That would be wonderful. I always let the kids pick out the colors and designs so they feel as if it’s really theirs. They paint it themselves, too, and you can never have too much adult supervision for a job like that.”

  “All right. Just tell me when and what colors you want, and I’ll pick up the paint. That is, if we can find an old bathtub for sale somewhere.”

  “Oh, we will. I’m always incredibly lucky at these sales. People can be so nice when they know you�
��re buying something for a school classroom. We might even get the bathtub for free if we’ll haul it away.”

  Her smug smile made him want to kiss her. Hell, everything about her made him want to kiss her. He found all of that enthusiasm bubbling out of her extremely stimulating and attractive. She loved her profession and he felt foolish for having questioned her qualifications back at the beginning of the summer. From all he could see, there were thirty lucky fourth-graders at Laughing Horse Elementary School who were in for one fun year.

  The actual shopping went pretty much as he’d expected. He did lots of standing around and trying to look interested enough to be polite while Julia dickered over some of the worst-looking furniture—which was stretching the definition greatly in some cases—Sam had ever seen. She obviously enjoyed the whole process, and seeing her so happy made him happy, too.

  When he drove her to Winona Cobb’s Stop-’N-Swap, however, something began to nag at the back of his mind, like an itch down inside his throat. No matter how hard he tried to ignore the sensation, it just wouldn’t go away. Finally, in self-defense, he started watching the people and the merchandise more closely.

  After about fifteen minutes, he realized Winona’s estate sale items had been throwing him off. It wasn’t the elderly folks’ old furniture and household goods that bothered him, it was the garage sale leftovers—the ones with the cribs and high chairs, strollers and playpens, and the round, blooming pregnant ladies.

  When he figured it out, he wanted to smack the heel of his palm against his forehead and yell, “Well, duh, Brightwater.” He didn’t, but he sure wanted to. Then he wanted to grab Julia, haul her off someplace and demand to know if she was pregnant. She should know by now. Why hadn’t she told him?

  He thought back, counting days on a mental calendar. It had been almost a month since they’d been together that first time.

  Damn. He’d been counting on her to tell him if he was going to be a father, but since she hadn’t acted concerned about it lately, he’d just sort of…forgotten. But surely she hadn’t.