by Myrna Temte
“I know you wouldn’t mean to,” she said quietly. “But I can’t give you the nice, traditional Cheyenne wife and baby you really want. In time you’ll start to resent that and come to see both me and the baby as your biggest mistakes. Well, my baby is nobody’s mistake. There is no way on this earth I would ever risk allowing my child to feel that way about herself.”
He had to clear his throat to be able to speak, and when he did, his voice sounded unusually husky. “Julia, I promise you that I will never think of you or our baby as a mistake.”
“You can’t promise that. You might love the baby, but you don’t love me. Whatever other people do or say, I see marriage as a very permanent commitment. I’m not willing to take the risk that your negative feelings toward me and my background will eventually spill over onto this child.”
“So, if I tell you that I love you, you’ll marry me?”
“It would be a little too convenient for me to believe that now. You said you don’t even believe in love.”
Sam sat quietly for a moment. He started to speak, then stopped himself.
“So, what are you planning to do?” he asked finally.
“I’d like to stay here at Laughing Horse and teach at the school if the tribal council doesn’t fire me. If they do, I’ll have to find a way to support myself somehow.”
“You’d leave then?”
“If I have to. I’ll try to finish out the school year, but after that, who knows?”
Who knew, indeed? She said it so calmly, so matter-of-factly, as if he had nothing to say about his child’s life and where that child would live, it made his stomach feel queasy. Dammit, she was just like her mother, after all. He inhaled a deep, shuddering breath, then stood and looked down at her.
“You’re not taking my child anywhere,” he said. “He will be three-quarters Indian, and there are laws to protect Indian tribes from losing their children. I will fight for custody.”
“Don’t threaten me. Those laws are for adoption. I’m the natural mother, and that makes it a whole different ball game.”
“Even the natural mother does not always get custody anymore, Julia. Don’t forget that. I have a successful business and an excellent reputation. I think my chances of winning are pretty good. Are you willing to risk that?”
She clutched at her still-flat abdomen with both hands, as if she could protect the baby she carried. “You wouldn’t take my baby away from me. You’re not that cruel.”
“Don’t be too sure. For safety’s sake, you might as well go ahead and marry me, because as long as we have a child together, I’m always going to be a part of your life.”
Closing her eyes, she swayed slightly in her chair. “Go away, Sam. Please. Just go away and let me get some rest.”
Sam hesitated, fearing she might need him. She didn’t move or speak, however, and he finally cursed under his breath and walked out of the house, locking the front door behind him. Miss Independent would probably eat ground glass before she ever admitted to needing anyone.
Julia covered her face with both hands and flinched when she heard the front door bang shut. Lord, how had her wonderful new life come to this wretched spot? Sam was the biggest jerk west of the Mississippi, and if he lived on the other side of it, he’d be the biggest jerk east of the Mississippi.
Telling herself she couldn’t solve anything tonight, she dragged herself to her feet and locked the door, then went into the bedroom and changed into her nightgown. Her head ached abominably and her stomach felt nasty, as if she might vomit at the slightest provocation. To date, other than fatigue, she hadn’t had any clear symptoms of pregnancy. She sincerely hoped she wasn’t going to start having relentless nausea any time soon.
She gazed at herself in the bathroom mirror, and nearly cried out at the sad, despairing look in her eyes. Nothing was really as bad as she felt, she told herself. She was exhausted and upset, so everything looked huge and impossible to her right now. Everything would look much, much better after a good night’s sleep. She hoped.
Spreading toothpaste onto her brush, she felt the first rumbling warnings low in her gut, but chose to ignore them. But when she stuck the toothbrush into her mouth, there was no holding back. Whether it was the taste or the smell that made her drop the brush into the sink, lean over the toilet and retch repeatedly, she didn’t know or care.
By the time the attack ended, she was shaking and sweating, but her stomach felt better. She straightened up, looked at herself in the mirror again and gave herself a weak, rueful grin.
“Great. Morning sickness in the middle of the night. Can’t I do anything right?”
Fifteen
October passed into November, then November into December, and Sam hadn’t found a way to reconcile with Julia. They still saw each other at tribal functions and Talkhouse-family get-togethers, where they treated each other with courtesy and even spoke to each other on occasion. But he couldn’t get close to her anymore.
It was as if she’d erected a force field around herself that automatically activated whenever he got within ten yards of her. The instant he tried to start a conversation about anything remotely pertinent to their relationship, she either turned away or simply withdrew emotionally to the point that he felt as if he were talking to a zombie. He’d never felt more frustrated in his life. Or more worried.
If only he hadn’t opened his big mouth and blurted out that stupid threat about taking the baby away from her. He hadn’t meant it. Shoot, he thought she’d be a great mother for any kid. He just didn’t want to be excluded or left behind.
Julia’s pregnancy would start showing in the next couple of months, and she would need him. At least, he hoped she would need him. But what if she didn’t? Or what if she did need him, but was too proud and stubborn to admit it?
Dammit, he wanted to be there for her and the baby. He wanted to go to her doctor’s appointments with her and learn all of the things she was learning. He hated being shut out like this, but he didn’t know how to fix things between them.
And he missed her. He missed her warmth and laughter and enthusiasm. He missed her sass and wit and playfulness. He missed her kisses and the sweet, wordless way of communicating she had when they made love. Losing her trust and friendship had left a huge crater in his heart that never stopped aching.
By the last week of December, Sam figured he needed a white person’s perspective on the situation. That was the culture Julia had grown up in, after all, and his old buddy Wayne Kincaid sure as hell understood it better than Sam did. Besides, Wayne had never been a blabbermouth. Sam had kept his identity secret, so why would he betray Sam’s confidence?
Sam picked Wayne up at the Kincaid Ranch and drove into the foothills on an old, seldom-used logging road. The snow came up to the pickup’s hubcaps, but the truck plowed through it. When they reached a clearing, Sam parked, but left the engine idling so they’d still have heat.
He pulled his big thermos bottle out from under the seat, poured out two steaming cups of coffee and handed one to Wayne. Wayne sipped, nodded in appreciation, then turned a questioning gaze on Sam.
“Okay, buddy, what’s up?”
Wayne’s soft low voice brought back a ton of memories, and for a moment, Sam almost choked. What did he really know about this man anymore, other than that he was pretty darn good at deceiving other folks? Then Wayne smiled encouragingly, and the years suddenly fell away. Once again, he became the kind, generous, older guy he’d been such a long time ago, willing to give the shy, naive, younger guy advice and support.
He sat patiently while Sam poured out the long, sad story of his relationship with Julia. Wayne asked an occasional question, but mostly he just listened. Sam felt enormous relief at having shared his troubles, but grew increasingly nervous when Wayne just sat there and gaped at him for the longest time.
“What?” Sam demanded when he finally couldn’t stand another second of wondering what Wayne thought.
Chuckling, Wayne shook his hea
d, then tipped his head back and let out a booming laugh that made Sam want to punch his face in. He slammed the truck into first gear and would have driven right back to the ranch if Wayne hadn’t reached over and grabbed the keys out of the ignition. Wayne returned Sam’s glare with a calm smile, which only infuriated Sam even more.
“Hold on there, kid,” Wayne said. “Don’t get your drawers all graveled up.”
“Well, what’s so damn funny?” Sam said.
“You are,” Wayne said. “I can’t believe a guy as smart as you can be so damn dumb about a woman.”
“Like you’re such an expert?”
“Never said I was,” Wayne admitted with a grin. “But who came to who for advice?”
“All right, all right,” Sam grumbled. “So what do you think? What am I doing wrong?”
“You’re trying to use your head to solve a heart problem.”
“Huh?”
Wayne chuckled again. “It’s not what you think that’s getting you into trouble with Julia. It’s what you feel.”
Sam grimaced. “Aw, come on, Wayne. I’ve never been any good at talking about that kind of stuff.”
“If you want that woman to take you back, you’d better get good at it. Do you love her, Sam?”
Sam felt his neck and ears get warm. “Yeah.”
“So tell her, why don’t you?”
“I sort of tried, but she said she couldn’t believe me now. It was too convenient. What’s a guy supposed do with that?”
“Well, you could try showing her.”
“How? She won’t let me get within spitting distance of her, much less kissing distance.”
“Have you tried flowers? Candy? Balloons? A singing telegram? A present for the baby? A love letter? A poem? A billboard? Skywrit—”
“All right, all right,” Sam said, laughing this time. “I get the picture.”
“It just takes a little imagination,” Wayne said. “Women love that kind of attention.”
Sam nodded thoughtfully. “I can do that, but what about this other stuff she says I get so upset about? This…racial thing? I don’t like to think of myself as a bigot, but if I am, I don’t know what to do about it.”
Wayne held out his empty coffee cup for a refill, then settled back against the passenger door and took a sip. “I don’t really think you’re a bigot, Sam. I’ve known you since you were a kid and you’re just not wired that way. Not any more than anyone else, anyway.”
“Tell that to Julia,” Sam said.
“I will if you want me to,” Wayne said. “I saw you take some bad lumps from some pretty rotten jerks when you were a teenager, but I never saw you act like you hated all white people any more than I hate all Indians. I think there’s something else going on with you.”
“Like what?”
“I’m not sure.” Wayne took another sip of coffee, then looked at Sam, his eyes narrowed against the steam rising from his cup. “What do you feel deep down in your gut when you know she’s going to go off and be with her white friends?”
Sam scowled. “You got a degree in psychology now?”
“Nope, but I’ve learned a lot about it over the years. Took me a long time to get my head on straight again after I came home from Nam. Those folks know a lot more about what makes us all tick than most people give them credit for.”
“You really think so?”
“I know so,” Wayne said. “You figure out what you really feel when you’re getting all upset at Julia, and you’ll probably know exactly what you need to say and do to make things right with her.”
“And then I suppose I’ll have to tell her all about it?”
“Well, yeah,” Wayne said. “That’s probably the only way she’ll ever believe you’ve really changed.”
“And I suppose you’re real good at telling women how you feel?”
“Hell, no.” Grinning, Wayne tossed Sam the keys. “Why do think I’m still single?”
Sam laughed, started the engine and turned the truck around. “How’s it going at the ranch now?”
Wayne shrugged. “It’s settled down some, but we’re still having more than our share of problems. Accidents and such.”
“Did they ever find Dale Carson?”
“Nope. I’d love to know where that kid went, but there’s been no sign of him.”
They chatted the rest of the way back to the Kincaid Ranch. Sam parked beside the bunk house, then turned to his friend. “So what do you think, Wayne? Should I start with candy and flowers or just go straight for the skywriting?”
“Another delivery for you, Ms. Stedman.”
Julia looked up from the overhead projector, swallowed an impatient sigh when she saw the school secretary standing in the classroom doorway with a wicked smirk, holding a huge bouquet of red roses. The kids started giggling and whispering, nudging each other and rolling their eyes at one another. Biting back a curse, Julia crossed the room, took the flowers from Gert and thanked her, then set the vase on top of her file cabinet and went back to work.
“Aren’t you gonna read the card?” Mark Two Bears asked.
Julia shook her head. “Take a look at this next problem.”
“Why would she need to read the card?” Frank Big Horse said. “We all know they’re from Mr. Sam.”
“Yeah. When are you gonna marry Mr. Sam?” Becky Running Elk said. “He’s so cool.”
Julia held up her hands, palms out. “Class, please. If I ever decide to get married, I’ll be sure to let you know. In the meantime, we have math to do.”
The children subsided, but not without more eye rolling, nudging and whispering. Julia couldn’t blame them for their curiosity. Sam had started sending her presents at home during the last week of the winter break. Each gift bore the same blunt message: Marry me. Right. How dumb did he think she was?
Since chocolates, flowers and a teddy bear for the baby sent to her home hadn’t produced the results he wanted, the wretched man must have decided to take his campaign public. Ever since school had started again a week ago, she had received a delivery in her classroom every day—balloons, more candy, more flowers, not to mention the singing telegram from hell.
The whole reservation had already heard about that darn telegram—a semitalented duo from the community college’s music department singing “Indian Love Call.” Nelson Eddy and Jeanette MacDonald were probably still spinning in their graves. If she lived to be a thousand years old, she’d never live that one down.
Each time a new “gift” arrived, she wanted to kill Sam. Did he really think that after threatening to gain custody of her baby he could buy her acquiescence so easily? Or embarrass her into marrying him? In his dreams.
Yes, she was afraid of how people would react when her pregnancy became common knowledge. Yes, she wished she had someone to lean on when fears of inadequacy as a single mother haunted her in the dead of night. Yes, she wanted to be convinced it was safe for her to marry him, but not this way. Never this way.
Didn’t Sam know he was breaking her heart with every single gift that was a thing instead of his love? She couldn’t even call him up and yell at him for fear she would burst into tears. Better to let him think she was indifferent to his actions than to let him know how much he was upsetting her.
In spite of his ridiculous behavior, she missed him more than she could have imagined it was possible to miss anyone. She missed his willingness to help with anything, and his deep, booming laugh and feeling his arms around her holding her close. She missed his strength and his caring and his knowledge about so many things concerning the tribe. Losing him had left a gaping wound in her soul that refused to heal no matter how many times she told herself she was better off without him.
Perhaps the truth was, she knew darn well she wouldn’t be better off without him. Had he really meant that threat? Or had it simply been an act of desperation on his part?
Afraid of what Sam might send or do next, Julia bundled up and drove out to visit her father on Saturda
y morning. No one was closer to both of them, and if anyone could help her gain a new perspective on her relationship with Sam, it would be Daniel.
He had a way of making the most complicated situation seem easy.
The road to her father’s place was rough under the best of circumstances. Now it was snowpacked and gouged with the tracks of hundreds of pickups, all of which had a wider wheel base than that of her poor little car’s. She bounced unmercifully from one frozen rut to the next with her jaws clenched for fear of biting her tongue or breaking a tooth at the next jolt.
By the time she arrived at her father’s house, her nerves were as ragged as the torn edges of spiral notebook paper her kids used for their homework, and her fingers ached from gripping the steering wheel so hard. She had no idea how Daniel Talkhouse would react to the news of her pregnancy, but she couldn’t imagine him taking a judgmental attitude. Besides, she wouldn’t be able to hide it much longer anyway, and she had to talk to someone or go crazy.
Daniel came to the door before she could even knock. One look at his dear, delighted-to-see-her smile and she immediately burst into tears.
He hustled her in out of the cold, then pulled her into a hug. “Nahtona, what is it?”
“Oh, Dad,” she said with a choking sob, “I’ve messed up everything.”
He patted her back with one hand and stroked her hair with the other. “Nothing is as bad as that. Not often, anyway. Take your coat off. Sit down. We’ll have coffee and talk.”
She let him fuss over her and appreciated his slow-moving preparations, which gave her time to regain her composure. He listened attentively while she told him about the baby and her problems with Sam, but betrayed nothing of his thoughts or feelings. When she finished, he got up, poured himself another cup of coffee and came back to the table.
“Well?” she said. “What should I do?”
“What do you want to do?”
“I asked you first,” she said. “Besides, if I knew what I wanted to do, do you think I’d have bounced all the way out here in this weather?”