Nighthawk's Child

by Linda Turner

  “Yes, I know,” he said grimly. “The road hasn’t changed.”

  Little on the reservation ever did, which was one more reason why he made it a point to avoid the place if at all possible. He found the all-consuming poverty and hopelessness more than he could deal with. If he lived to be a hundred, he’d never understand how the people who lived there got through the day knowing that tomorrow—and the day after that and the one after that, ad infinitum—would be exactly the same, with no expectation or optimism. They could get out—he had. But most of them seemed perfectly content.

  Grandmother Gray Eagle lived in a remote area on the northwest side of the reservation, in a house that was little more than a shack. But it was clean, and when Gavin and Summer arrived, it was filled with the old woman’s relatives, who were gathered around her bedside, chanting softly.

  Swearing softly under his breath, Gavin would have liked nothing better than to turn around and walk out. The haunting sounds of the chanting grated against his nerve endings, taking him back to his childhood and a place he didn’t want to be. But he’d married Summer with the promise to help her with her clinic for a year, and he couldn’t go back on his word just because the work took him to places that made him feel uncomfortable.

  So he followed her to the old woman’s bedside and wasn’t surprised that Grandmother Gray Eagle had changed little since the last time he’d see her seven years ago. For as long as he could remember, she’d been old. Small and shrunken, with wrinkled skin like leather and twin braids of thick gray hair that fell to her waist, she was nearly lost among the bedclothes.

  Obviously weak and waiting to meet her maker, she shouldn’t have been an imposing figure. But as Gavin watched her greet Summer, he couldn’t help but be impressed. She still had her power, that aura of strength that had made her a leader among her people all of her life.

  Her faith in the ancient ways had always been unshakable, and it was that, Gavin realized now, that had made her so powerful. She’d believed in herself and the Great Spirit, and she’d made everyone around her believe, too. And he knew from his own experience with medicine that most of the time, that was all it took to heal someone. You had to make them believe that they were going to get better.

  So how was the healing that Grandmother Gray Eagle had done all of her life so very different from what he practiced?

  The question came out of nowhere to hit him right in the face. Stunned, he immediately tried to reject the idea, but he couldn’t. And for the first time he understood why his parents had had such faith in an old, uneducated Indian woman who’d never, as far as anyone knew, ever stepped foot off the reservation. They’d believed in her more than they’d believed in the care they would have received in a cold, sterile hospital, and even though she hadn’t been able to save them, their trust in her had given them a peace that they never would have found with traditional medicine. And for that, he was thankful.

  After years of blaming her, Gavin realized that he needed to tell Grandmother Gray Eagle that, but when he moved to her bedside and his black eyes locked with hers, he realized that no words were necessary. With a nod of her head, she silently acknowledged that she understood everything he wanted to say. She didn’t have to hear the words to know how he was feeling. All resentment was understood and forgiven.

  Amazed that she was giving him comfort when she was the one who was dying, Gavin marveled at how strong she appeared to be even as she faced death. Then Summer took her hand, and he realized that up until then, the old lady hadn’t been nearly as fearless as she’d appeared. She’d put on a brave front, but the second her gnarled hand closed tight around Summer’s, relief flashed in her eyes and a peace unlike anything Gavin had ever seen on anyone’s face before settled over her.

  Murmuring quietly to her in their native tongue, Summer gave Grandmother’s hand a reassuring squeeze, then went about the business of gathering her most important possessions. Her prayer stick, a sacred stone, the medicine bundle that her mother’s mother had used nearly a century before. Visiting the reservation as a child, learning tribal medicine from Grandmother Gray Eagle, Summer had always loved it when the old woman had let her hold the things that were closest to her heart. But now, touching them, bringing them to her in quiet ritual, gave Summer little joy.

  Grief pulled at her heartstrings, but she couldn’t give in to it. Grandmother was depending on her to be there for her, to help ease her into the world of the Great Spirit, so there was no time for personal feelings. Later, she would cry, but not with sadness. Just knowing her, loving her, having the benefit of her teachings, had been such a blessing that any tears she shed would have to be ones of joy.

  So as the hours dragged by and the day gave way to twilight, then darkness, Summer kept her emotions at bay and softly repeated the ancient prayers and songs that she had, over the years, seen Grandmother perform for hundreds of other dying people. And in the rituals that she knew as well as her own name, she found the strength she needed to finally sing the last song and watch Grandmother take her last breath with a soft smile of peace on her face.

  It was, Summer knew, the way people were meant to die and so often rarely did. And Grandmother’s family knew it, too. They thanked her with hugs and kisses, but she knew she was the one who had reason to be grateful. She was the last one who’d been able to do something for Grandmother Gray Eagle, and that gave her a peace that nothing else could.

  Caught up in offering comforting words to the family, Summer had completely forgotten Gavin’s presence until he tapped her on the shoulder as she was talking to Grandmother’s eldest daughter about the burial arrangements the family had already made. “I hate to interrupt, Summer,” he said huskily, “but the weather conditions are worsening. I didn’t know how much longer you want to stay, but I just thought you should be aware of that.”

  She’d not only forgotten about him, but she’d forgotten that he’d insisted on coming with her because of the icy roads. Far back in the reservation, where roads were little more than dirt paths, it didn’t take long for them to become impassable.

  “I’m sorry. I completely forgot,” she told him. “Just give me a few more minutes and I’ll be ready.”

  It was, in fact, another thirty minutes before she said her final goodbyes to everyone. Standing patiently by the door, Gavin didn’t rush her. These people were like family to her, and she needed this time with them. In spite of the fact that she’d been as steady as a rock throughout the day and evening, Gavin knew she wasn’t nearly as unmoved by the old woman’s death as she appeared.

  Oh, she put on a good front, but she was hurting. Gavin could see it in the deep shadows in her eyes, in the wisp of the smile that kept disappearing from her face. She’d been strong up until now, but that strength had a limit, and any minute now she was going to reach it.

  She seemed to realize that at about the same time he did, and within minutes she’d collected her purse and coat and reached his side. “I’d like to go now,” she said quietly. “There’s nothing more I can do here.”

  Without a word he opened the door for her and a cold, icy wind hit them right in the face. Muttering a curse, Gavin swept an arm around her shoulders and rushed her out to her truck, which he’d parked under a tree to protect it from the weather. The doors weren’t iced shut, and with a sigh of relief, he helped Summer inside, then quickly joined her. Within seconds he had the motor running and the heater on high. It was still another ten minutes before the defroster was warm enough to melt the ice glazing the windshield.

  And during that entire time Summer didn’t say a word. She just sat there, in utter silence, staring out the windshield at the cold darkness of the night.

  Gavin almost asked her if she wanted to talk about the pain he knew she had to be feeling, but one look at her grief-stricken face and the words died unspoken on his tongue. She’d talk when she was ready, without any prompting from him. In the meantime he needed to get her home while he still could. So without a word, h
e headed south toward Whitehorn and home.

  Later, he couldn’t have said how far he’d driven before he realized she was crying. She didn’t make a sound, didn’t make a move to wipe away the tears that silently trailed down her face. It was the saddest thing Gavin had ever seen in his life.

  Later, he realized he should have let her grieve, but he couldn’t stand seeing her in such pain. Making a snap decision, he pulled off to the side of the road, threw the transmission into park, and turned to take her into his arms.

  “It’s all right,” he murmured. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

  The second his arms closed around Summer and pulled her against the hard wall of his chest, what was left of her control just snapped. With a sob, she buried her face against his neck and let the tears fall.

  Held tight against him, she never knew how long she cried. It could have been minutes, hours. There was so much sadness in her heart that it actually ached, and once she gave in to it, a dam just seemed to burst within her. She cried and cried and cried.

  When she finally ran out of tears, she was still safe within the security of his arms. Spent, she could have stayed just where she was for the rest of the evening. That was when she realized she was playing with fire.

  She wasn’t a woman who was used to leaning on a man—that just wasn’t her nature. Strong and independent, she took care of her own problems, and when she cried, she did it in private. Or she had up until now. But Gavin made her feel as if it was all right to drop her guard, to give in to her emotions, and that made him very dangerous indeed. Because when she was in his arms, she tended to forget that she needed to be cautious. And that could only lead to trouble.

  Their marriage, she reminded herself, had nothing to do with love. She had to remember that or at the end of the year when they filed for an annulment, she’d be crying again, this time from a broken heart.

  Stiffly pulling out of his arms, she wiped at her wet face and choked, “I’m sorry I cried all over you. Believe it or not, I don’t usually do this. It’s just that Grandmother and I were so close. I can’t believe she’s really gone.”

  “She lived a long life,” he said huskily. “She was ready to go.”

  “I know. And I thought I was ready to let her go. But I wasn’t.” Forcing herself to concentrate on her grief instead of the remembered feel of his arms around her, she shifted on the seat as if she was trying to get more comfortable, but used the move to put more distance between them. It helped, but not nearly enough. Aware of every breath he took and the touch of his eyes on her, she desperately tried to cling to the subject of Grandmother Gray Eagle, but he didn’t make it easy for her. All she wanted to do was to melt back into his arms.

  Not daring to, she blurted, “Did I ever tell you about the time she taught me how to analyze dreams? I was twelve…”

  Five

  Pulling back onto the road, Gavin tried to focus on his driving as Summer rambled on beside him about her summers on the reservation and all she had learned from Grandmother Gray Eagle. But all he could think about was the feel of her in his arms. When had touching her, holding her, begun to feel so right?

  Scowling at the thought, he tried to convince himself he was imagining things. There was no attraction between them—there couldn’t be. Their marriage was a business arrangement, nothing more or less, and even if it hadn’t been, he wasn’t looking for a relationship. He hadn’t had much luck with women over the past few years—his affairs with Patricia Winthrop and Christina Montgomery had both ended—one disastrously. So the only female he was interested in was his daughter, and even then, he didn’t have a clue how she was going to fit into his life.

  But knowing that, he was discovering to his disgust, and remaining indifferent to Summer were two different things. Touching her, kissing her, had become a habit over the past few weeks as he’d pretended to court her, one that he had to admit he’d enjoyed more than he should have, considering their agreement. And breaking that habit was turning out to be more difficult than he’d anticipated. Every time he turned around, he found himself wanting to reach for her.

  She’s the only person who’s stepped forward to help you out of the mess you’re in, a voice in his head snapped. Would you really betray her trust that way after all she’s done for you?

  He had his faults, just like every other man, but he liked to think he wasn’t that big a bastard. Scowling, he vowed to keep his hands to himself from that moment on, and just that easily, he set himself an impossible task. Because now that he’d decided not to touch her, she only had to shift slightly in her seat beside him for him to want her. It was, he decided grimly, going to be a long year.

  By the time they left the reservation behind, Summer had run out of conversation and a deep silence fell between them that neither of them was inclined to break. Physically and emotionally exhausted, Summer just wanted to go home—to her house—where she could be alone, among her own things, to grieve in private. But even if she hadn’t already had a renter lined up, that was out of the question. What would people say if she left him the day after they got married and went back to her place by herself?

  As soon as they stepped inside Gavin’s house, she knew she had to have some time to herself. “I think I’ll go up and take a hot bath,” she said huskily. “I feel like I’m chilled all the way to the bone.”

  “That’s a good idea,” he said. “While you’re doing that, I’ll heat up some soup and make some sandwiches.”

  She wasn’t hungry, but she’d hardly eaten breakfast, they’d missed lunch completely, and it was already well past dinner. “I’m going to soak for a while, so go ahead without me if I’m not down by the time everything’s ready.”

  She escaped upstairs and quickly filled the tub in the master bath with her favorite bubblebath, hoping that when she slipped into the steaming water and closed her eyes, the familiar scent would remind her of home. But when she lay back and the hot water closed around her shoulders, it wasn’t home she thought of. It was Gavin.

  The scent of his cologne lingered faintly on the air, teasing her senses, and even the clean smell of the soap in the soap dish reminded her of him. All too easily, she remembered that same scent when she’d buried her face against his neck and cried her eyes out in the car.

  “Don’t go there, Summer,” she said out loud. “You’re too shaky right now. Think about something else, anything else but that.”

  She tried—she honestly did. Focusing on Grandmother and the wonderful summers on the reservation, she soaked until the bubbles dissipated and the water cooled, but with every memory, her thoughts seemed to somehow always wind back to Gavin. With no effort whatsoever, she saw him as a child, his eyes dark and face somber as he stood on the sidelines at every tribal event, disassociating himself from who and what he was. He’d always looked so lonely that her heart had ached for him.

  And that hadn’t changed with the passage of time. In spite of the fact that he’d known everyone, he hadn’t been comfortable at Grandmother Gray Eagle’s. Whenever Summer had looked away from Grandmother and found him on the edge of the crowd, she’d caught a glimpse of that little boy from long ago.

  Suddenly realizing what she was doing, she stiffened. She had to stop this. She couldn’t afford to feel sorry for Gavin or to let herself get emotionally caught up in the loneliness of his existence. That wasn’t why she was there. He didn’t want her sympathy or concern. And she didn’t need those things from him, either. There would be no more crying in his arms, no unburdening of her heart when she was hurting, no shared confidences. She would be polite, even friendly, but they couldn’t be friends. Because to be friends, you had to drop your guard, and with a man like Gavin, that was just too risky.

  Gavin heard her coming down the stairs and immediately began transferring the food to the dining room table. It hadn’t taken him long to make grilled-cheese sandwiches and chicken noodle soup, then he’d spent the next fifteen minutes trying to keep everything warm.
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  Hearing her step in the hall, he turned with a smile. “You’re just in time—”

  That was as far as he got. The second his eyes settled on her, whatever he was going to say next flew right out of his head. There wasn’t, he told himself, anything sexy about the gown and robe she wore. Every curve was hidden, and with her robe buttoned up to her throat and just about every inch of skin covered, she looked as pious as a nun. He shouldn’t have been the least bit attracted.

  But there’d always been something about a woman fresh from her bath that appealed to him. Maybe it was the lack of artifice, the face clean of makeup and pretense. With her hair hanging down her back and her bare toes peeking out from beneath the hem of her robe, she looked young and girlish and innocently sensual. And he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  “Can I help you do anything?”

  His brain in a fog, it was a long moment before he heard her—or realized he was staring like some kind of Neanderthal who’d never seen a woman in her night-clothes before. Hot spots of color burning his cheeks—he was blushing, for God’s sake!—he quickly turned away. “No, thanks. I’ve got everything under control. Would you like milk or tea?”

  “Milk.”

  “Have a seat,” he called back over his shoulder as he disappeared into the kitchen. “It’s coming right up.”

  What the hell was wrong with him? he thought furiously. He was acting like a teenager suffering from his first crush. If he didn’t get a grip, she was going to wonder if she should have trusted him enough to marry him.