When she realized her arms and legs were becoming pink even with the umbrella shading her from the sun, she closed her notebook and packed up her gear. Windburn could do just as much harm as sunburn, and it appeared she had a good dose of it. She drove back to the cabin and looked with a start at the clock. It was almost four. She had been sitting out and writing much longer than she realized. She put her things away and went to the bathroom for some witch hazel to apply to her tender skin. She tidied her bun and applied lipstick, then she poured herself a glass of iced tea from a pitcher she had prepared earlier. She opened the door of the cabin and looked out in time to see Eris's truck stopping by his mailbox. A woman was in the cab with him, and both of them were laughing.
Madeleine stared. She had never seen Eris really laughing before. He looked as if he had known the woman beside him for years, instead of having met her just a few days ago. And the woman beside him looked too young to be his mother. Far too young.
While she was looking, Madeleine saw Eris lift an arm and gesture to her. He pointed to his mother, then to Madeleine. She nodded and went hurriedly to change. If he was bringing his mother now, then Madeleine needed to look less pink and wind damaged. She pulled off her top and shorts and put on a pale yellow sundress. She took her hair down and shook it loose, allowing the natural curls to fall around her face and neck. Before she could run to the bathroom and apply makeup, there was a knock at her door. She shoved her feet into slim strap sandals and went to answer.
Eris stood on the porch beside a woman only a few inches shorter than he. She was long and slim and darkly attractive, and her eyes revealed surprise when she saw Madeleine.
Madeleine greeted them and stepped aside to allow them to enter. Eris's eyes on her made her feel instantly warm. He was as happy to see her as she was to see him. When he came inside he surprised her by reaching for her hand. She gave it to him gladly.
“Madeleine Heron, this is Sara Bent Horn, my mother.”
Madeleine extended her free hand. “I'm pleased to meet you.”
Sara Bent Horn only touched her fingers. “Eris didn't tell me you were such a beauty.”
“Thank you,” said Madeleine. “I could say the same of you.”
Sara lifted her head and looked around herself. “This is a nice cabin. What does your sister's husband do?”
“Manuel is a neurologist. My sister Jacqueline is an anesthesiologist. They work at the same hospital.”
“Manuel is Hispanic?”
“He's from Mexico, yes.”
“Do all the women in your family go for ethnic types?”
Madeleine's heated flesh went suddenly cold. She felt Eris's hand squeeze hers.
“I've never thought about it,” she said, forcing herself to smile. “Would you care to sit down?”
“Eris tells me you're an anthropologist,” Sara said, ignoring the invitation. Her dark eyes swept over Madeleine's form. “You look almost too fragile with your sweet pink skin and dainty little hands and feet.” Madeleine glanced at Eris and saw him staring at his mother with a slight frown on his face. His mother saw the frown and quickly apologized. “I meant it as a compliment, of course.”
“Can I get either of you something to drink?” asked Madeleine, forcing another smile.
“Nothing for me,” said Sara, and Eris declined as well.
Before Madeleine could ask how Sara liked what she had seen of Kansas, Sara asked the question Madeleine dreaded.
“What are you doing here for the summer? Are you working?”
“It's a long story,” said Madeleine.
“I'd like to hear it,” Sara told her, her smile cool. “I'm interested in everything Eris is interested in.”
“I'd rather not go into it,” Madeleine averred.
“You don't have to,” said Eris. He turned to his mother and told her they needed to be going if she still wanted to eat out that night.
“Aren't you going to ask Madeleine to join us?” she inquired, her fine black brows lifting into arches as she looked at her son. Eris looked at Madeleine.
“Jacqueline and Manuel will be here soon,” she said. “They come up every weekend.”
“You couldn't leave them a note?”
“I assumed you and Eris would want time alone together.”
Eris squeezed her hand again and opened his mouth, but Sara said, “We've had time alone together, and we'll have plenty more to come. We're only just beginning to know each other, my son and I. And as I said before, if he is interested in you, then so am I. Surely you'll change your mind and your dress and come have supper with us.”
“The dress is fine,” said Eris, frowning at his mother again. He looked at Madeleine and she could see the confused irritation in his expression.
“I'll come,” she told him, rising to the challenge. “Just let me put up my hair and write a quick note.”
His nostrils flared slightly, and his hand held on to hers just a second longer when she would have tugged it away. She gave him a tender smile and left the living room to hurriedly pin up her hair again and write a note to her sister.
Sara Bent Horn's assessment was cool as Madeleine rejoined them. Madeleine propped up the note on the counter and grabbed a jacket and her purse before moving to the door and locking it from the inside. Sara went out, followed by Madeleine, and Eris pulled the door closed behind them. His hand slipped around Madeleine's waist and his lips brushed her temple as they walked behind his mother. Madeleine looked up into his face and told him with a glance how it felt to be near him again.
His eyes darkened and his hand on her waist tightened in response.
Inside his house Madeleine looked in surprise at all the new furniture and watched jealously as Sara Bent Horn tossed her things casually onto the sofa before removing herself to change. Eris, too, went to his room to change, and Madeleine was tempted to go with him, just to remain close to him. She forced herself to sit on one end of the new sofa and wait. When Eris came out he was dressed in dark indigo jeans and a navy pullover. Madeleine smiled in appreciation and he took her by the hand and pulled her out to the porch with him, closing the door behind them. They reached for each other before the screen door shut, and when they kissed it was as if they had been apart three months instead of three days.
Eris lifted his head when he heard the door opening, and Madeleine released him to wipe the lipstick from his mouth with her fingers. Sara looked outside and said, “I'm ready when you two are.”
“We're ready,” said Eris.
The three of them rode together in Eris's truck, with Madeleine beside him and Sara near the passenger door. He was taking them to a family-owned steakhouse near Emporia, and on the drive over his mother asked Madeleine endless questions about her education, career, and other aspects of her life. Madeleine could feel the tension in Eris building, and she deflected the questions as best she could and finally succeeded in asking a few of her own.
She complimented the woman on her colorful style of dress and asked if her clothes were made by Indian artisans in New Mexico.
“Everything I own is Indian-made,” Sara replied. “With the exception of my car, which was made in Germany, but is maintained by an Arapaho mechanic.”
“Have you always been an artist?”
“Have you always been an anthropologist?”
Madeleine smiled and tried again. “What I meant was have you always been interested in drawing and painting?”
“I was more interested in drawing and painting than I was in making dolls, jewelry, or doing complex beadwork. I felt there was more freedom of expression in painting, and obviously more money.”
“You appear to have done well,” said Madeleine.
“Yes, I have,” Sara said honestly. “I have more money than I ever dreamed possible. White people just love to buy pictures painted by Indians.”
Madeleine was not offended. During her years in the field she had become accustomed to the barbs and the thinly veiled insults. White intoler
ance of Indians and Indian hatred of whites were more examples of learned behavior, the same as any other intolerance passed on through ignorance.
“Maybe I even have enough money to entice Eris away from his job here and come to New Mexico,” Sara said, her dark eyes shining as she smiled at her son. “I want him to meet his younger brother.”
Eris only glanced at his mother.
Madeleine looked at him and said, “You have a brother?”
“Half brother,” said Eris. “He's going to school in New Mexico.”
“Right now he's working in my gallery,” said Sara. “I'm sure you could find a position with the parks department in New Mexico. In several places they actually give preference to Indians.”
Madeleine was silent, listening. She had been to New Mexico many times. Eris would probably like it there.
But she hated the thought of his leaving. In the back of her mind she had been toying with the idea of finding work—even teaching—and a place to live somewhere within a reasonable driving distance, so she wouldn't have to leave him. She had never considered the possibility that he might leave her.
His mother went on talking, telling him how big her house was and how little space she used. When Clint was home from college the two of them encountered each other only when they planned to do so. There were two spare bedrooms besides the one Clint used, so there was more than enough room for the three of them.
At that point Eris took one hand off the wheel and placed it on Madeleine's knee.
Madeleine felt Sara's look, heard a pause in her speech, and she tucked her hand beneath Eris's arm. She wanted to look at him, but it was unnecessary. He had spoken volumes simply by touching her and leaving his hand where his mother could see it.
Sara drew breath and continued, undaunted. She talked about New Mexico and its inhabitants until they reached Emporia and were out of the truck and approaching the doors of the restaurant. Once they were seated inside and had given their orders to the waitress, Eris's beeper sounded.
“Sorry,” Eris said, and he got up to make a call.
As he walked away, Sara looked at Madeleine and said, “Dedicated, isn't he?”
“He is,” Madeleine agreed. “Do you mind if I ask where you came up with his name? It's unusual.”
Sara gave a brief shrug, as if it wasn't important. “I saw the name spelled with an A in a children's book and decided to do it differently.” She paused, briefly. “What exactly do you want with my son?”
Madeleine looked up, surprised at the bluntness of the other woman's question.
“You're older than he is, aren't you?”
“Yes.”
Sara leaned back. ‘‘You obviously have a thing for Indians. How many did you go through while you were in the field? One at each reservation? You must have missed it while teaching.”
Madeleine stared at the other woman. “You're very wrong.”
“I can't be,” she said, shaking her head. “Don't play stupid with me, you know exactly what I'm getting at here. I'm his mother and I already love him, but he's no beauty.”
“Wrong again,” said Madeleine, her gaze unwavering. “You've known him only a few days.”
“How long have you known him?”
“Long enough to know there is no one else like him.”
“I want him to come back with me,” said Sara. “Don't make it hard for him.”
“You mean don't make it hard for you.”
“He will come back with me,” Sara assured her. “All Indian men go through a period of attraction to white women. But he needs to be with other Indians and I'm going to do everything I can to make up for all he lost when the whites took him.”
“I was under the impression you gave him away,” said Madeleine, and Sara's dark eyes turned cold with anger.
“You know nothing about it.”
“True,” Madeleine admitted.
Sara smiled suddenly. “This conversation is absurd, really, because I'm not going anywhere right away. Your hold on him is probably sexual, nothing more, and my presence here will put a damper on that. When the sex is over everything else will be over. It's nothing personal, believe me. You seem like a nice person.”
Madeleine lifted a palm and struggled to make her voice light. “No offense taken, Sara. I've met dozens of Indians just like you and I'm used to it.”
Sara's chin quivered angrily and she opened her mouth, but Eris came back to the table at that moment and apologized again.
“Well, what happens now?” Sara asked when he didn't sit down again.
“We ask for our food to be placed in take-out bags,” said Madeleine.
Sara frowned. “What on earth has happened?”
”A possible rabid skunk,” said Eris. “We've had four so far this year.”
He went to speak to the waitress, and Madeleine and Sara looked at each other again, but neither said a word.
They remained silent on the drive back, Madeleine and Sara carrying their bagged dinners in their laps. Eris glanced over occasionally, but neither would meet his look. At the lake, Madeleine saw Jacqueline and Manuel's Jeep in the drive and asked to be let out at the log cabin. Eris stopped the truck in the road and got out, taking the dinner from her so she could slide over.
Once she was out she took the dinner, thanked him, and lifted herself on her tiptoes to brush his lips before turning and walking across the road. Not another word was said between Madeleine and Sara Bent Horn.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Eris was kept busy most of the weekend with call after call, but when he was able to go home, he talked and ate with his mother, who gave him the stories he asked for about his grandparents and their grandparents and regaled him with tales of Fox who lived long ago, the ones who fought the whites and won. She made him laugh when she attempted to show him a dance and teach him a song, and she told him his father would have taken cash prizes at every powwow in the state. Daniel Birdcatcher was the best dancer she had ever seen, she claimed.
Only occasionally would Eris's attention wander to the door or the window. He hadn't seen Madeleine since the night she met Sara and he wondered if his mother's rudeness had changed things in some way. The silence between the two women on the return drive had been an uncomfortable one, and he knew something unpleasant had occurred between them. One had to listen to his mother for only half an hour to learn how bigoted most of her views were. Eris understood some of it, having been to the reservation and seen the poverty and alcoholism for himself, but he didn't understand all of it. Particularly her reaction to Madeleine. Eris had been proud to show her off, the beautiful, intelligent woman who wanted him, but his mother's behavior had made him embarrassed for Madeleine and angry with Sara. He had no idea what to do now. He thought Madeleine would understand, having been exposed to white hatred before, but he still wanted to see her, talk to her.
On Sunday night, after he saw Jacqueline and Manuel leave, he told his mother he was going up to see Madeleine.
“Can't it wait?” she asked. “She'll be here for the whole summer. I won't.”
Eris didn't know about that. She hadn't shown any inclination to leave so far. Hadn't even discussed it. Not that he was anxious for her to leave, but he didn't want to put his relationship with Madeleine on hold indefinitely.
“I'll be back,” he said.
“Why not invite her down here?”
“I want to be alone with her,” Eris clarified, and before his mother could argue further he opened the door and exited the house to walk up and knock on the door of the log cabin.
Madeleine seemed surprised to see him. She opened the door and peered past his shoulder, as if expecting to see someone behind him.
“Hi,” she said.
“May I come in?” he asked.
“Yes, of course.” She stood aside and allowed him past her. She seemed to hesitate before closing the door, and Eris asked if she was expecting someone else.
“No, I just. . . didn't expect to see you.�
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Something had changed. He could feel it. He moved toward her and saw her take a step backward.
It reminded Eris of when he had first met her. It hurt.
“How was your weekend?” she asked, clasping her hands in front of her.
“Busy,” he said. “I wasn't home much.”
“Me either. Jacqueline took me to Wichita for the day on Saturday. It was good to be in the city again. And to drive my own car. I wanted to bring it back here, but Jacqueline talked me out of it. It's an Audi.”
Eris nodded. He could see her in an Audi.
“Madeleine,” he said abruptly, “What did she say to you?”
“Jacqueline?”
“Sara.”
Madeleine lifted her hands. “Nothing I didn't expect. She is your mother, after all, and she's looking out for her son.”
“I can look out for myself.”
“She thinks you need to be with other Indians. She wants you to learn everything I couldn't teach you.”
“I'll decide what I need.” Eris moved toward her once more and then stopped when she retreated from him again.
“Don't do that, Madeleine. You don't know what it does to me to see you backing away.”
Sudden emotion clouded Madeleine's eyes as she looked at him. “You don't know what it's doing to me. I only want what's best for you.”
“Goddammit.” Eris slammed a frustrated hand against the wall. “Don't say things are going to change because of something that woman said to you.”
Madeleine stared, and he could tell she was startled by his angry display. Eris swallowed and strode forth to take her by the arms. He pulled her to the sofa and sat down to draw her onto his lap and put his arms tightly around her. He held her as close as he could without hurting her, kissing and touching her face until she made a noise in her throat and lifted her arms around his neck to hold him just as tightly. “I gave you the chance,” she said to him.
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