Romance: The Bad Boy Affair: A Second Chance Romance

by Veronica Cross

  Chapter 6: The Disobedience

  The house had been silent for nearly an hour. Bridget placed her feet silently on the ground, grabbing the leather satchel beside her bed. She carried her shoes, moving with more stealth even than when she was hiding from Joseph. She held her breath the whole way down the hall and through the kitchen and nearly panicked when the front door hinge squeaked in protest. Bridget waited outside the front door for a few moments, but no one in the house stirred. She moved on bare feet until she reached the barn. Once the rough ground was beneath her, she pulled on her boots and made her way toward the school. Bridget knew now that if she was willing to take this much of a risk for someone, she must care about him a great deal. Ishkode…this would mean everything to him….

  Bridget quickened her pace, pulling her coat more tightly around herself just before mounting her horse. Her teeth chattered, but it wasn’t from the cold. She entered the back door of the Vermilion school student’s quarters, her own breathing sounding as loud as thundering hooves in the quiet. She moved silently down the first corridor to room 17. She’d found out Thomas’ room number from the student book in her uncle’s desk.

  Bridget eased the door open, moving into the dark room. She waited for a moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the dimness. Awakening the wrong boy certainly wouldn’t expedite this mission. Thomas was asleep on his back. His roommate was snoring softly which she hoped meant he wouldn’t be awakened when they exited the room.

  Bridget went to the beside, placing her hand on Thomas’ shoulder. “Thomas,” she whispered.

  The boy awoke with a start. Bridget quieted him with a finger to her lips. Once the surprise wore off, Thomas’ look turned confused and then skeptical.

  Bridget shook her head, motioning toward the window. She climbed out and waited for Thomas to change and then join her.

  “What is going on?” Thomas asked the moment they were far enough away from the school.

  “I’ve seen your father.”

  Thomas’ voice was guarded. “Why did you see my father?”

  Bridget evaded the question, feeling that it was too much to go into on the run and would most definitely be too much for the resentful young man to process anytime soon. “I think it would be good for you both to see each other.”

  Her words caused Thomas to lose interest of anything else. “I am going home?”

  Bridget glanced around, hoping she could remember which secluded tree she’d tied her horse to. “Yes. But, you have to be back before sunrise or we’ll both be in far more trouble than I’d like to admit.”

  They’d have to move quickly if father and son were to have a couple of hours together.

  Thomas mounted the horse without a word and even reaching down to give Bridget a hand up so she could sit behind him. She had to instruct him of where to go since he’d been removed from his family before they’d been forced into their living space on the reservation.

  When they arrived, Bridget again led the way. She could feel the tension emanating from Thomas as they walked side by side. She knocked on the door and they waited.

  Bridget’s throat closed at the sight of Ishkode, disheveled from sleep. The expression that covered his features when he laid eyes on his son though was almost more than she could bear. In a moment, the young man was in his father’s arms. Ishkode spoke to his son in their own tongue. Ishkode pulled back from Thomas, cupping his face in his hands, looking down at him intently. The young man was clearly fighting tears. Bridget averted her eyes, not wishing to impose even though she was the instigator of the meeting.

  Ishkode spoke to his son again and Thomas went inside. Megis’ exclamation of surprised pleasure could be heard as the boy entered the house.

  Ishkode looked at Bridget for the first time. His face was clouded with emotion. He cleared his throat, lowering his gaze. They stood in silence for a few moments. When their eyes did meet again, Bridget offered a small, sad smile.

  “Thank you.” Ishkode’s voice was barely above a whisper.

  Now it was Bridget who fought against tears. She tried to smile again, nodding.

  “Come in,” Ishkode said, stepping aside.

  “No, I don’t want to intrude,” Bridget objected, immediately.

  Ishkode gripped her arm, drawing her inside.

  Megis and Thomas were by the fire. Megis was fawning over her grandson, stroking his face and speaking to him in the manner that only grandmothers could get away with.

  There was a smile in Thomas’ dark irises. It was the gentlest and most indulgent Bridget had seen him be with anyone.

  Bridget felt a little less like she was invading this family reunion when she couldn’t understand what they said, so she accepted the cup of tea Ishkode handed her and tried to relax. It didn’t take long. Bridget actually found herself enjoying the soothing tones of Megis’ voice as her native language rolled off of her tongue. Watching Ishkode interact with his son was also far more rewarding than she would have expected. It didn’t take long for her to be convinced that this, risky though it may be, had been the right decision. She saw a new side to both Thomas and Ishkode, the side that came out when things were as they should be.

  Bridget straightened in her chair, offering a smile when Megis made her way toward her for the first time since she and Thomas’ arrival. She took Bridget’s hands in her own, gripping them tightly, her alight with appreciation. “You are blessed,” she said. “Thank you.”

  Bridget squeezed her fingers in response. “Of course. Thank you.”

  Megis patted the younger woman’s cheek before rejoining her son and grandson. She said something that made Thomas laugh before she hugged him.

  Bridget stood, moving toward the door. She locked eyes with Ishkode. “You have time,” she said. “I’m just going to step outside for a moment.”

  He responded with a nod before she slipped out. Bridget turned her satchel over in her hands, thinking about all that had happened that evening. How on earth she was going to explain this if they were caught, she didn’t know. But, it had been worth it. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, she knew that to be so no matter what happened. In all reality, the hard part wouldn’t be justifying her actions, it was coping with her feelings. With Ishkode.

  Bridget turned when she heard footsteps behind her. It was Ishkode. “Hi.”

  A few moments of silence followed.

  “Why aren’t you inside with your son?” She tried to appear cross, attempting to joke for the first time. “I brought him all the way here and risked my uncle’s wrath so you’d best go inside and talk to him.”

  Ishkode took a few steps closer. When their shoulders were nearly brushing, he leaned against the wall behind them, standing directly beside Bridget. “Why would you do this, Bridget Moore?”

  The question wasn’t a simple one. Ishkode was asking about her feelings regarding far more than Thomas’ forbidden arrival here. Bridget’s mouth went dry. “I don’t know,” she breathed, scarcely able to force the words out.

  “You do not?”

  Bridget swallowed, shaking her head. She breathed in sharply when Ishkode’s fingers came underneath her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “I do know,” she admitted in a whisper.

  Ishkode’s hand slid from her chin to cup her cheek, his gaze never allowing her own to stray. The air left Bridget’s lungs until she felt as if she would suffocate. His increasing closeness wasn’t what had Bridget frightened. It was that he wanted him close.

  To distract herself, Bridget reached into her satchel, remembering the jacket and moccasins. Even the anxiety of carrying this scheme out clouding her mind, she’d somehow remembered to bring the borrowed items. “I brought these back for you.” Bridget was impressed that her tone was relatively normal in spite of the emotions raging like a storm inside of her. She felt suspiciously cold when Ishkode removed his hand from her skin.

  He took the items. “What will happen to you?” Ishkode asked.

  Bridget shook her head, wrapping
her arms around herself. “I don’t know.”

  “You should not have done this for me.”

  Bridget looked up at him, a thought striking her for the first time. “Why should you care what white men do to disobedient daughters? Why should you care if she shuns me for siding with the you and yours?”

  Ishkode didn’t answer, looking down at her.

  Now that she’d turned the tables, Bridget wanted an answer. “Are you saying that you care what happens to me?” She was sure that this would make him turn away, make him realize the dangerous situation their attraction to each other created. It would be just as well. They could part as unlikely acquaintances. He couldn’t answer yes. That would go against everything he felt of the white man.

  Still, Ishkode was in the habit of doing the unexpected and in a heartbeat—a fast one—his arms were one either side of the wall behind her, fencing her in and giving her no choice but to look up at the facial features which she’d become unable to get out of her mind.

  “Yes. And you, Bridget Moore.”

  Bridget raised her eyebrows in question when he didn’t continue.

  “You brought Animkii here. You care what will happen to us.”

  Bridget pressed her hands into the wall behind her to keep from reaching out to touch Ishkode. She’d taken leave of her senses. They both had. “Yes, I care what happens to you.”

  Ishkode dropped the jacket and shoes onto the ground, his hands coming to grip her shoulders.

  “Have you lost your mind?” she whispered. “Ishkode?” she pleaded when he didn’t answer.

  Ishkode pulled back, resting his forehead on the wall behind her. After a few terribly quiet moments he looked back at her.

  Bridget couldn’t tear her eyes away. Heavens, he was handsome. And his eyes—the hatred was gone and she could scarcely handle the strength and torture in his eyes. He was wrestling with this as hard as she.

  “Have you?” Ishkode finally asked.

  Bridget said, her smile bitter. “Yes. Yes, it seems I have.”

  “I care much for you.” Ishkode’s voice was raspy with suppressed emotion. “A white woman.”

  Bridget screwed her eyes shut, unable to think clearly when staring at his well-formed face—one she was having frighteningly real feelings for. The face of an Injun…. “I know,” she said, softly. “What can we do, Ishkode? God, what can we do?”

  Ishkode didn’t tell her that everything would be alright—it would be pointless since they both knew that it couldn’t be. After many moments, Ishkode brought his face close to hers. “Bridget,” he breathed.

  Bridget gripped his arms with her hands, staring desperately up at him, wishing for solutions. Ishkode stared back. Then he lowered his head and she could feel his breath on her neck. His lips trailed her collar bone. Her hands slid almost involuntarily up, cradling the back of his neck. The smell from his jacket which she’d held close and breathed in when he wasn’t there surrounded her now. Even in their impossible predicament it felt like safety.

  Ishkode’s mouth moved up her neck, his arms once again on either side of her, not touching her. Bridget wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him to her and resting her head on his shoulder. After a few moments, Ishkode returned her embrace, his arms tightening when Bridget’s did.

  They held each other for a few minutes before Bridget pulled away. “There’s no way,” she choked out. These feelings had to be stopped. She was endangering them both now.

  Ishkode was as breathless as she, his expression hopeless, knowing her words were true.

  Even though she knew that it was safer for both of them to forget this had happened, Bridget selfishly wished for him to throw caution to the wind and embrace her again.

  Ishkode captured her lips in one fierce, tortured moment before pulling back again, this time turning away and not looking back.

  Tears streamed down Bridget’s cheeks as she watched him return inside. She pulled her jacket around herself, feeling cold without him. There hadn’t been answers when he was near, but it was still far worse when he was away.

  Bridget hoped that after a good cry she’d be capable of letting go of Ishkode. Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to be easy on her heart.

  Chapter 7: The Action

  When Bridget awoke the morning after smuggling Thomas into the reservation to see his father, she half expected to be confronted by her parents about it when she entered the kitchen. However, the only sent her good mornings and her mother asked her to help with the last of the breakfast preparations.

  Bridget felt strangely numb. The events of the previous day seemed impossible and distant. She could hardly believe she’d done such a thing. She wondered if it were possible for the incident never to be found out. Thomas had made it back to the boarding house undetected, after all. That is, as far as she knew no one had seen them. Perhaps this would all become a distant memory. Thomas would take his place in society after he’d completed his schooling, Ishkode and Megis would live quietly on the reservation, and Bridget would continue to teach.

  In the daylight, Bridget was grateful to find that she could put aside some of the pain of the previous night. It was easier to imagine getting on without Ishkode when she had tasks to fulfill and work to keep herself busy. However, she did avoid speaking to Thomas, afraid that she might give something away. He didn’t cause her any trouble which helped them both in keeping the secret.

  Bridget was sure that this would be the strangest day. It would become easier as the event faded further into the past.

  Class ended and the room was deserted again except for Bridget. It was only then that the merciful blankness with which she’d had managed to operate since awaking that morning disappeared once classes were over. As she sat her desk, attempting to finish up a few tasks before heading home, a dull ache grew inside of her.

  Ishkode.

  Bridget pressed the palms of her hands into her eye sockets. The next moment she was gathering her books up in a fury. She’d get home and be alone—perhaps have that cry that she’d contemplated the previous night outside of Ishkode’s house. It had seemed unnecessary during the course of the day, but now was the only harmless cure she could think of to release some of the sadness welling up in her heart.

  Bridget moved swiftly out of the classroom, intent on making a quick escape to blessed seclusion. She’d shut her door and began down the hall when her plan was changed.

  “I don’t care what he said,” her uncle snapped, his tone irritable. “I won’t have an Injun causing me to lose one of the teachers in this school. It’s inane, ridiculous!”

  Bridget slowed and then stopped, tucking herself into a corner like a naughty school girl as she eavesdropped on the conversation in Levi’s office.

  “Just handle it,” Levi was saying. Bridget recognized the note in his voice—he was working hard to keep his temper under control, but was losing the battle. Whatever had happened had obviously been enough to get his thoroughly riled.

  “I can do that.” Bridget recognized Mr. Jameson’s voice. It seemed the man wasn’t through with bringing ill tidings to her uncle regarding disobedience. “This can’t be concealed forever though, Levi. Eventually his kind will want this dealt with. With evidence and now a witness….”

  “Are we superior or are they?” Levi interrupted. “I’ll be the one deciding which of the Vermilion School’s teachers stay and leave, not them. I don’t care if that half-breed says that some student was given a bruised face. It happens all the time. We won’t be scared into away by any of them. Charles won’t be driven from his position by a half-breed who’s trying to condemn him because of a blasted Injun boy.”

  Bridget slid further into the corner when she heard a few footsteps. Then they stopped and Mr. Jameson spoke again. “I won’t be responsible if the law steps in. I’ll do what I can to keep this under control, but don’t blame me if Gideon gets the law on his side.”

  Levi’s voice was livid. “If they step in at the defense of
one of them, they’ll be foolish indeed. This school is here for the purpose of reform, am I right?”

  Bridget stole down the hall, having heard quite enough. She kept her head lowered on her way through town until she was alone on the road home. This had to stop. She’d experienced inklings of how wrong the setup of Vermilion was when she began teaching, but her feelings for Ishkode made all the difference. This had to be stopped. It seemed that the scary predicament of standing against her family would continue to plague Bridget.

  When she arrived home, she retreated into her room. When her mother knocked on the door to tell her that dinner was ready she pled a headache. She needed time to gather her thoughts and, as fate would have it, her courage.

  ***

  Bridget rolled over onto her side, her shoulder stiff and sensitive from lying in the wrong position. It was dark outside. She must have slept far past suppertime.

  Feeling no motivation to rise, Bridget blinked at the bright moon shining on the other side of the window glass. The rest hadn’t helped the pain inside of her. Pain for Ishkode’s situation, for the love they could have shared if things had been different.

  She remembered how it felt to have him surrounding her, with his arms fencing her in, his gaze on her alone. And then his fingers on her face and then his lips….

  Bridget closed her eyes tightly as if it would keep her from the memory. She ached to see him; the intensity of the ache was remarkable.

  I’m going to see him.

  Though the thought originated in her own mind, it still startled Bridget. Yet, she moved almost involuntarily out of bed, fumbling for her boots. For the third time in three days she snuck from her house. It was much less of a heart pounding phenomenon this time. She figured that once one completed a first reckless act, it was far easier to carry out the next.

  Bridget knew that by doing this she was committing to her decision to accept the feelings which had developed toward Ishkode. There was no pretense to hide behind this time. She couldn’t claim to be doing this only for Thomas’ good. It felt so final. There would be no backing down from this when her family found out. This act would not be over looked under any circumstances. She would be labeled as a sympathizer. Bridget didn’t care, she was one. No, she thought. She wasn’t a sympathizer. She was in love. And as a woman in love, she wanted justice for her man’s people—the ones he cared about.