“I’ve interrogated a lot of people who didn’t want to tell me stuff. Maybe your aunt will open up for me.”
She didn’t say anything right away, but she looked thoughtful. After a minute or so, she said, “The first step is finding a flight. Whenever I want to do something impulsive, I let luck guide me. If you go online and there’s an affordable flight with two seats, then you know this trip was meant to be.”
“Two? As in you and me?”
She took a step closer. Her fresh, amazing scent filled his nostrils. “He’s my kid, too,” she said, stomping her foot. “If you’re going, I’m going. Especially, if we’re using my credit card.”
She had a point. One he couldn’t very well argue with, but that didn’t stop him from wondering what happened to the shy, retiring girl who was content to hang out in the background?
She grew up in a hurry.
The voice again. But this time it sounded more like his conscience. He shrugged and put a comfortable distance between them—one that wouldn’t make it easy for him to reel her into his arms and finish that kiss they’d started. “Your dime, your call.”
Char wasn’t surprised by how smoothly things came together. As she’d told Eli, if you were on the right path, the universe nudged aside obstacles.
Take the matter of hiring someone to operate the store in her absence. Yes, Char could count on Pia for part of the time, but the younger woman really wasn’t cut out for taking charge. And, yes, Char could close the store, but she didn’t want to lose money if she could avoid it.
“You need someone to be you for a few days?” Kat had replied when Char phoned her. Kat had been first on Char’s list because, historically, Kat had always been scrambling for extra money and Char had hoped she might be able to handle the coming weekend…if Char was gone that long. “I have the perfect person.”
“Who?”
“Jack’s sister, Rachel. She’s going through a post-divorce rough spell. Jack finally talked her into coming to Sentinel Pass to check things out. What better way to meet people than to manage Native Arts?”
Char made Rachel her next call and, sure enough, the woman sounded perfect. She seemed to share Jack’s business sense and work ethic. That was good enough for Char. And, even better, Rachel was available immediately.
“Hire a replacement? Done,” Char said aloud as she crossed the biggest hurdle off her list.
The next item should have been less challenging, but Char’s hand was shaking as she punched in her aunt’s phone number. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or annoyed to reach an answering machine, but she left a message. Short and to the point.
“Hi, dear ladies. This is Char. I’m going to be in town hopefully tomorrow. Let me know the best time to come by and see you. Here’s my cell phone number, in case you don’t have it.” She rattled off the pertinent information and hung up.
“How’d you know we’d be able to get out tonight?” a masculine voice asked.
She ignored the flutter in her chest cavity—now wasn’t the time to get sick or give in to girlish nonsense. “I’ve taken the red eye several times. Not the most pleasant way to travel but there are usually seats up for grab.”
As they discussed their agenda and the cost of tickets, Char tried to pay attention but her mind wouldn’t cooperate. She didn’t doubt for a minute that Eli would pay her back. But, if for some reason he didn’t, she could afford to absorb the cost of the room at the boutique hotel where she’d stayed before. And the cost of their B.A.R.T. tickets, which would take them from the Oakland airport into the city. But right below the surface of her businesslike demeanor was a girl shrieking in wonder and dismay. Wonder that she was traveling with Eli—her Eli—to find the baby boy—her baby boy—she’d given up for adoption. Dismay that she was still Char Jones—the girl who had no self-control when it came to Eli Robideaux.
“What are we going to do from the time we get in until we can check into the hotel?” Eli asked from a spot directly behind her where he could watch every click of the mouse. His scent, his presence, his freakin’ swoo was more than she could take.
She made a scoot back motion with her hands. “Do you mind? You’re crowding my space. I’ve been on my own for a long, long time. I travel alone. I run my business alone. I can make these plans without you breathing down my neck.”
He put a single giant step between them. “Excuse me. I’m the kind of person who likes to know in advance what is happening.”
“A micromanager. I get that. But yesterday, we were virtual strangers and now you know my credit card number. It’s possible we’re getting ahead of ourselves here.”
He inhaled deeply. “Yes. And no.”
She cocked her head, waiting for an explanation.
“Going to San Francisco might be a wild goose chase. Your aunt may have forgotten anything that could help us. But what if she kept records that you don’t know about? You got the habit of writing a journal from someone, right?”
Char hadn’t thought of that. “How come you’re not working? And if we’re going to be traveling together I think I deserve to know exactly what’s going on with you and Bobbi.”
He acknowledged her demand with a tilt of his head. “I took a leave of absence from my job. Bobbi filed for a divorce in July. She and the girls are living with her folks in Reliance. E.J.—my um…son, Eli, Jr.—is living in Pierre with some friends.”
She knew there was more to the story. Eighteen-year marriages didn’t simply fall apart. But it wasn’t her business. Not really. They might share a child, but that was all they had in common.
“Have you considered what will happen if we actually find him? I mean, where your other kids are concerned?”
His eyes turned give-nothing-away cop. “A minute ago you were certain we’d never get a bit of information out of your aunt. Let me worry about integrating the missing piece into the family fold. Such as it is.”
She was sorry to hear such bitterness in his voice, but she guessed that part of his attitude stemmed from the wound to his ego, so she returned to her task of finding the best price for a rental car—in case they needed one.
They maintained their uneasy truce until the phone rang. Char picked it up and answered, “Native Arts.”
“Char? It’s me, Libby. I just talked to Kat. She said you’re going to California.”
She turned to Eli. “Friends,” she said, knowing Libby could hear, too. “Can’t live without them, can’t get away with anything around them.”
“I’m not prying.” Libby’s tone sounded hurt. “I wanted to see if you’d be there long enough to come see Cooper and me. We’re headed back on Tuesday. We’re going to host our first Thanksgiving at the beach house. You’re invited, of course.”
Char picked up the portable unit and left the much-too-small confines of the office area. At the large picture window, she leaned her shoulder against the frame and looked outside. The wind had come up; long fingers of snow formed triangular drifts across the parking lot.
“I doubt if we’ll be gone that long, but thanks for asking.”
“We?”
Truth and consequence time. “Eli—the old friend I told you about—and I are flying out tonight—provided the plane can get off the ground.” To forestall the obvious question, she quickly added, “We have business together. Old business. I’m not ready to talk about it, okay?”
“Of course.” Char could hear Libby’s unspoken worry, but Libby, being Libby, gave Char the space she needed. “Just keep your cell handy and call if we can help in any way. And, according to the weather app, this front will blow itself out in the next hour or so. A melt is predicted by tomorrow.”
Char smiled. Typical Black Hills weather. “Good. Then I don’t have to hire Mac to clear the parking lot.”
They talked a few minutes longer. Until a curious sound caught Char’s attention. Scraping. She walked to the window on the opposite side of the building. A man in black was shoveling the sidewalk leading to
the garage.
Either he was an optimist or he sensed that the storm was almost over and normal traffic might resume. Maybe he’s working off the price of his airplane ticket, Chickadee.
“Char? Are you still there?”
Physically, maybe. Mentally…not so much. “Yeah. Sorry.”
“I just wanted to repeat my invitation for Thanksgiving. You know it’s my favorite holiday, and this will be the first time I’ve celebrated outside of Sentinel Pass. I feel homesick already and I haven’t even left. I’d really love it if you could come. Jenna and Shane will be there, and Mac and Morgan, too. Think about it, okay?”
It took some effort, but Char made herself stop staring at Eli. She marched to the Brulé wall calendar and counted the days. “Nope. No way can I afford to be gone that long. Sorry, Lib. But if you tell me Coop’s going to deep fry a turkey, I might change my mind. Sounds like a YouTube moment for sure.”
Libby laughed. “It does, doesn’t it? Well, I won’t count on you, but I won’t count you out until I have to. Your business with your old flame might take longer than you think.”
“Who said he was a flame?”
“Char, I may be pregnant, but I’m not blind. I could tell the moment you walked in the door that he was someone special.”
Special. Talk about an understatement. The physical attraction that got her into this situation in the first place hadn’t diminished over the years. If anything, it was stronger. But she wasn’t some giddy girl with a serious crush. She’d had plenty of time to figure out what she wanted in a man, a mate. Right up there at the top of the list was emotional stability. A requirement that would certainly preclude a guy who was in the traumatic process of ending his marriage.
As a devotee of People magazine, over the years she’d seen more than a few rebound flings wind up discarded and broken when the rejected guy they’d fallen for was drawn like flotsam in a tractor beam back to the woman who had rejected him in the first place. Char didn’t know why they went back, but they always did.
She needed to remember that because in a few hours she’d be on a plane to San Francisco with the hunkiest rejected guy on the planet—after a quick stop at Target to pick up a couple of changes of clothes for her temporarily homeless friend.
“Lib, I do have one favor to ask. Remember that checklist I made for you when you filled in for me the last time I went to visit my aunt?”
“Yeah. It really helped.”
“If I print out a copy, could you walk Jack’s sister through the basics? I could ask Pia, but her feelings might be hurt that I didn’t ask her to cover for me.”
“Of course. No problem. Don’t worry about a thing. Rachel will take good care of your baby.”
Char hung up a few minutes later, but Libby’s words stayed in her mind. The sad fact was her business had become her whole world.
And now, that world was changing. Scary as that felt Char told herself she’d be okay as long as she remembered who she was and where she came from. Her teepee would still be here when she returned.
Chapter 8
Char loved San Francisco. For a gal straight from Hicksville, she’d never felt intimidated or out of place here. Probably because quirky was this city’s middle name.
“We’re getting off at the next stop,” she told Eli, who was sitting beside her in the B.A.R.T train that had just transported them under the waters of the bay. They’d arrived at the Oakland Airport just as the first fingers of dawn pried back the curtain of night.
Early morning commuters, laden with tall, insulated mugs of coffee, earbuds and newspapers made up most of the other passengers. Char was tired but she couldn’t suppress a niggling sense of excitement. Not only was she about to enter one of her favorite places on the planet, but she had a companion. That almost never happened.
Unless you counted the voice in her head, Char was always alone. But not today.
The train came to a smooth stop, the doors opening on a hiss. Eli shouldered the canvas backpack she’d loaned him and offered her a hand. She took it. Why not?
You know why not, Chickadee. You like his touch too much.
“Do you have your ticket ready? You have to put it in the machine to get out.”
“Really? But we bought round-trip passes.”
She towed her small, black wheelie bag behind her. “It’ll come back out. Watch.”
She led the way through the cattle gates, as she called them, and pointed toward the nearest staircase. “Our hotel is that way,” she said once they reached Market Street. “The clerk I spoke with said we could probably check in around noon.”
He slid back the cuff of his heavy jacket. His watch was an old one of Char’s. One she’d bought online and felt was too mannish once she got it. “Too early to burst in on your aunt, I suppose. Breakfast?”
She’d packed them food for the trip, but the two remaining power bars didn’t sound very appealing at the moment. “Coffee, for sure,” she said. “I know a place around the corner from Pam’s. It’s a bit of a hike, but after being scrunched up in a plane over night, a walk sounds good to me. Are you up for it?”
He gave her one of his inscrutable looks and nodded.
“Indian men,” she muttered, starting for the corner. She didn’t jaywalk. Her first trip here, she’d nearly been creamed by a messenger on a bike. Since then she’d become a model pedestrian.
The sheer volume of people hurrying along the sidewalk kept conversation at a minimum. They didn’t actually have a chance to speak until they were seated at a tiny table in the corner café. The glass windows were steamed over around the edges. At home, Char could have called it the lace effect.
“What did you mean when you called me an Indian man?”
She looked up from the laminated menu. Nothing was cheap in this town, but she no longer griped about the cost out loud. Her aunt once told her such complaining only proved she was a tourist.
“Did I offend you? Sorry. I should have said Native American men. Or do you prefer Indigenous Peoples?”
He scowled. “I couldn’t give a crap about what’s P.C. I meant what did you mean by the comment?”
“Oh. Well, I’ve had hundreds of dealings with men of your tribe over the years and I’ve learned that half the time they only tell you what they think you want to hear. The other half, they lie.”
He stared in shocked silence for a few seconds then burst out laughing. A first. She liked the sound. Deep and masculine. “Actually, that’s pretty astute. But I’m only half Native.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
She folded the menu and set it aside. “I had a huge crush on you, remember? And I was a student helper in the principal’s office.”
“You accessed my records?”
A harried blonde in a retro pink and black uniform paused long enough to give Eli the once over and take their order before disappearing into the crowded restaurant. Char didn’t like the momentary clutch of jealousy she experienced. “Never date a guy who’s cuter than you are,” her mother once warned. “All the even cuter girls will try to steal him away.”
That was about the sum total of her mother’s maternal advice. And it certainly had proven true more than once when Mom made the wrong choice from the dating pool.
“I didn’t have access to anyone’s records. I just listened and maybe asked a question or two. You know how people like to gossip. My family got talked about enough.”
“What did you learn?”
She poured cream from a stainless steel pitcher into her cup and stirred, watching it turn the mixture the color of her grandmother’s pine rocking chair. “Well, they said your maternal grandfather was your dad’s commanding officer in the Army. Your dad and mom eloped and he nearly got court-martialed for going AWOL.”
“True. He took a less-than-honorable discharge and moved back home.”
“They said your mom hated the reservation. She lasted a couple of winters then moved to Texas or Oklahoma.”
/> “Oklahoma. My grandmother lived there. She’d divorce my grandfather shortly before I was born. Mom said Granny got fed up with the way Gramps handled things with my mom and dad.”
“That’s where you lived during the school year, but you spent your summers in Lower Brule.”
“Mom remarried when I was six. My stepdad, Carl, had two kids. They were a few years older than me and they lived with their mother most of the time. We were never close. Then the twins were born. Sara and Mike. After Mom died, Carl had a pretty rough time keeping it all together. Dad invited me to come live with him. He convinced me I’d have a shot at some college scholarships if I traded on my ethnicity and went to Pierre High.”
“Do you see your half siblings much?”
“Mike’s in Iraq at the moment. Works for a private contractor. But Sara’s a sweetheart. She’s happily married with two kids. We e-mail each other quite a bit.”
He frowned. “She’s probably starting to get worried. I haven’t e-mailed her since last week. Normally she would have called Bobbi to find out what was up, but Sara’s loyal to the max. She was furious when she heard the news.”
“It’s probably none of my business, but can I ask what went wrong between you two?”
He brushed back an errant strand of hair from his furrowed brow. “The usual.”
“Another man?” she croaked, louder than she’d planned. Ducking her head slightly, she whispered, “I don’t believe it. Who could she…?”
A memory she’d completely forgotten popped into her mind. Bobbi and a dark-haired guy who wasn’t Eli making out under the bleachers after a home game. “Robert?” she mouthed.
“Yeah. Apparently they had more in common than they knew.”
Like us? She didn’t ask the question because their server returned at that moment with their food. Scrambled eggs and fruit for Char; eggs Benedict for Eli.
As the woman refilled their mugs, she studied Char. “I like your hair. Very autumnal.”
Self-consciously, Char touched her uncombed mop. She was aware of Eli looking at her. He’d called her odd. Did he still feel that way?
Black Hills Native Son: a Hollywood-meets-the-real-wild-west contemporary romance series (Black Hills Rendezvous Book 5) Page 10