As we stepped out of the hospital doors, we were met with a chorus of "Congratulations!"
I gazed around with my jaw hanging as our new friends stood around two vehicles, one of which was the sheriff's truck.
Megan rushed forward and kissed my cheek. "The whole town wanted to come out and help, but that was impossible. So we were sent to come get you."
I laughed with surprise as the sheriff and deputy loaded our gifts into the truck, and Sarah and a handful of others rushed inside to gather the rest.
Megan squeezed my hand. "Let's get you and the baby in the car. I heard you named him Jackson."
On the car ride home, after we stopped at Costco, I said, "I can't believe they all came out like that."
Forrest shook his head. "It's amazing. I really think we got lucky with this town."
*
Two weeks passed, and my parents finally needed to leave. Mom cried her eyes out and clung to me and Jackson, but Dad finally dragged her away.
For the first time, I found myself alone during the day. So, I explored my new home for the first time. A white picket fence surrounded the cozy two-story house, with low shrubs in front of the porch, and a swing hanging from a large oak tree in the yard. In a suburb, this dream house would cost a small fortune, but out in this town, it sold for a meager price as it had been vacant for several years. Blue paneled walls, white trimmings and a porch that ran all the way around—I’d imagined rocking the baby on that porch and hadn’t even cared to look at any other houses.
It needed some TLC after being abandoned for so long, but the home had so much potential. As I made my way through the house, I noted down a list of things that needed fixing for Forrest.
The stairway sat directly in front of the front door, to the left of the main living area. I headed upstairs to our master bedroom. Aside from visions of summers spent outside on that porch, this room had been the selling point for me, with its walk-in wardrobe and enormous master bath. This room would be my haven.
Jackson fussed from the room across the hallway, so I went in to nurse him.
After he’d finished, I packed him up and headed out for a stroll. As I walked down the street, heading for Main Street, Jackson nodded off instantly. I smiled to myself and took a deep breath of the clean, fresh, mountain air. It felt so peaceful and pleasant, and for the first time, I could really enjoy it.
But as I turned up Main Street, I paused. Cars and people lined the street. But not just any cars. They were Mercedes, BMW's, Lexus', Bentleys, Jags. They looked out of place in the quiet town where most of the time the vehicles were trucks and four wheel drives. Then it clicked. The school year was due to begin. They were parents come to drop off their kids at the boarding school.
I made my way up the street and turned into the grocery store. Patrick, the middle aged store owner, smiled at me as I entered, and his wife waved from behind the checkout, but they were both too busy to stop and chat.
I decided to take my time and see what interesting things they had. There was a whole refrigerated section with elk, deer, and even bear meat.
As I turned away from the meats, a man standing behind me made me jump. He jumped too, as he was focused on something else, and smiled. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."
I touched my chest, my heart racing, but smiled back at the silver-haired man. "You're fine. I've got baby brain, so I'm kind of everywhere as it is."
He straightened his red tie over his tailored white business shirt. "Are you a sister of one of the students?"
"A what? Oh, no." I shook my head. "No, my husband and I just moved into town."
"You look a bit young to be married."
I chuckled. "I'm twenty-four. We've been married for almost three years."
"See? Young." He offered me his hand. "I'm Vern Richards. My son is a sophomore up at the school."
"It's nice to meet you, Vern."
I turned to leave, and he said, "Do you need help with anything?"
I tapped the stroller. His eyebrows shot up. It seems he hadn’t noticed it. "No,” I said. “This thing can carry a lot."
"Congratulations. Boy or girl?" He cocked his head to look inside.
"It's a boy. We named him Jackson."
He smiled, but when he saw Jackson, his smile wavered. "Is his father an Indian?"
"Native American, yes."
"From this tribe?"
I shook my head. "He's Paiute."
"Will you be teaching at the school?"
I raised an eyebrow, sniffing as his lip curled. How dare he look down his nose at my husband who he hasn’t even met! So, I let my defiant side flare. "No. He's working as a Minor's Counselor for the tribe. He’s absolutely brilliant. We met at college."
"Ah, he decided to take advantage of the benefits."
I rested my hand on my hip, resenting his assumption about my husband because of his race. "No, actually. He earned a full scholarship and worked his butt off to graduate with honors. He never went to parties or booze ups, in fact, he volunteered as a counselor at AA meetings."
He sniffed and looked down at Jackson again. "Well, it was nice to meet you, Ms . . . .?"
"Mrs. Miller." I pushed by him, anxious to get away. I couldn't believe what he hinted at, or the disgust in his eyes when he saw my child's darker skin. I couldn't believe people were still that backward.
I joined the line for the checkout. In front of me, a small group of girls dressed in grey and blue school uniforms noticed my stroller. They turned with huge grins across their faces.
"Can we see your baby?" one asked.
"Of course." I pulled the cover back and their faces fell.
"Is it adopted?" one asked.
What were these people being taught? "No, he's mine."
"It looks like one of those natives."
I covered Jackson and glared at the girls. "He's half native, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't look so disgusted by it. You're being racist."
They shriveled their noses at me and turned away. I couldn't believe what had just happened. My child, who was barely weeks old, was already being discriminated against. Everyone had always been so accepting of Forrest; it never occurred to me that someone could be disgusted with our child.
I reached the checkout feeling disheartened as I handed Patrick's wife, Reba, a loaf of bread. "Put it on our tab please. Oh, and I'd like that five pound cut of Elk."
"Bray."
I looked up and met her concerned gaze. "I saw what those girls did. Don't let it get to you, dear. They'll be locked up in their school soon, and all the parents will be gone by the end of the week. We all love you and your little family."
I smiled gratefully. "Thank you."
"Do you need Patrick to walk you home?"
I shook my head. "You need him here, and I was planning on stopping by Town Hall to see Sarah. She has been bringing us dinners every night, and I'd really like to thank her."
"Hey! Quit your yapping and get a move on!"
Glancing back, I catch a tall, lean, teenage boy scowling at us, and beside him, stood Vern Richards.
Vern elbowed his son. "What the boy means to say is we'd appreciate it if you ladies kept the chatter for after hours. We need to be heading up to the school."
Reba muttered something under her breath before she handed me a receipt. "It's on your tab and Patrick will drop the meat by after closing."
"Thank you."
I hurried out the door, eager to escape. My stomach tightened, so I took deep breaths to calm my nerves. As I walked, no one seemed to pay any attention to me, to my relief, and in Town Hall silence met me.
Sarah's gaze shot up over her glasses as the bell tinkled. "Let me see my little man." Smiling, she rushed around and pulled the cover back. "How can he get cuter every time I see him?"
The tight knot in my stomach vanished. "I just wanted to stop by and thank you for all you've done for us."
She straightened and tucked her straight, shoulder length brow
n hair behind her ear. "It's nothing. I like cooking, and when you live by yourself, you don't get to do it much."
"Well, I appreciate not having to cook right now, so thank you for enjoying it so much."
She giggled. Sarah was very pretty, in a natural way. Tall and slender, but strong from working hard, she had a country girl air about her that really worked in the small town. She wore very little make up, but with clear olive skin, she really didn’t need any.
"I can't wait to have a baby of my own. I'll tell you a secret"—she leaned forward with a sparkle in her green eyes—"I'm green with envy over what you and Forrest have. Wow, it's amazing. You're so tight and I can just see the love there."
I smiled, glad our love shone through clearly. "Nothing's perfect. We fight all the time."
"Yeah, but you always make up, and you always love each other. I wish that Pa—" She covered her mouth and blushed. "I should get back to work."
"Sarah, were you about to say Paul?"
Her gaze shot around the room. "Shh. The Sheriff’s Station is right next door. He walks by all the time."
"Why don't you just ask him on a date?"
She shook her head. "No. I couldn't."
"Do you wanna know how I met Forrest?"
Her eyes locked with mine. "How?"
"Well, there was this huge party in a dorm building at the beginning of our senior year. All the doors were open, giving out booze and junk food, except his. So I knocked on his door until he answered, I introduced myself, then I just kissed him."
Her jaw fell. "You're so brave. I could never do that."
"Well, I wouldn't recommend it, but we're not in the 1800's anymore. Guys have no idea, so we girls need to take the initiative to clobber them over the head and give them a wakeup call."
She giggled.
"Just ask him on a date. I don't see him as the type to say no."
She bit her lip. "Really?"
I covered Jackson, then turned to the door. "You'll never know if you don't ask. I'll see you later."
"Bye," she called.
I walked out with a smile spread from ear to ear. I wanted Sarah to go for it, and I hoped I'd given her the courage to do so.
"What are you smiling about?" The sheriff paused at the bottom of the stairs with his thumbs hooked through his belt. He did look good in his sheriff gear; that light brown uniform with a radio and guns strapped to his hips, and a gold star over his heart. Sarah definitely had taste.
My smile widened. "Nothing." I turned the stroller to the ramp.
"It certainly doesn't look like nothing." He hurried over to help me. "Reba told me you might need someone to walk you home."
I blushed, remembering what happened in the store. "I don't think that's necessary."
"I do. I hate it when these people come to town, and I certainly won't stand for them harassing my citizens."
I sighed with defeat. "All right. I'm heading home right now."
We turned and walked down the street, where we struck up an awkward conversation. We talked about the weather, and he told me what to expect over the winter and to make sure we stocked up on food in case the town gets snowed in. As a desert dweller, I was intrigued to see what that much snow would look like.
We passed by the tiny bookstore, and a voice behind me said, "She's a perfect example of why we don't mix with them, son."
I glanced up at the sheriff and he tilted his head to listen.
"Such a pretty girl wasted on one of them and stuck in this pathetic little town so he can go on some vain crusade."
My heart sank.
"I know, Dad," a boy answered. "They're disgusting anyway. They're all on drugs and have completely fried their brains."
My hands tightened around the stroller handle.
The sheriff turned, whipping a notebook out of his pocket. "Sir? Show me your ID."
I turned to watch and found myself looking at Vern Richards and his son again. What was the sheriff going to do? Book them for bigotry? Was that even a thing?
"In this town, we don't talk like that." The sheriff patted his gun in the holster. "So if you don't mind, you'll apologize to the lady or I'll have to write you up for contempt of the law, which I doubt is something you'd like to have pop up on your criminal record."
Vern scowled and his gaze shot to me. "I'm sorry, Miss."
"Misers," I said. "And thank you."
His scowl deepened as he motioned for his son to move away.
The sheriff turned back to me and grunted. "They'll all be gone soon, but I'll still have to deal with their rotten kids."
We walked back down the street in silence. Once out of the hustle and bustle, he said, "I hear them tell their kids not to interact with the "natives" because they'll get them hooked on drugs, but then I spend the first few weeks of the school year up at that place confiscating illegal substances. They're all a bunch of hypocrites."
I nodded, frowning. "There will always be some in life. It just upsets me to hear people say things like that about Forrest after everything he's done and been through, and without even meeting him. Forrest is a good man."
"I know," the sheriff said. "I talk with the Res sheriff all the time, and he says the kids Forrest works with already love him, and you haven’t been here a month yet. These are troubled kids, too. Kids that have been removed from their homes or have been in and out of the Res' juvie. But when I talk to Forrest, all he can see is their potential and speaks like they have such bright futures."
I smiled proudly. "If anyone can make it happen, it's him."
We turned the corner onto my street. "I should be okay now. You can go back and—"
He shook his head. "I said I'd walk you home and I will." He took my arm and led me forward. "So, how did Forrest get into counseling? He's smart and hardworking enough to be a doctor or something like that."
I shrugged. "He's had a rough life. His mom was a drug addict, and his dad died of alcohol poisoning when Forrest was eight, and his step-dad, well, he was a piece of work even when he was sober. When Forrest and his sisters were taken from his parents and placed in a foster home, he made up his mind to do everything he could to stop things like that happening, especially when he heard people gossiping about how typical his situation was. So, he decided to help teens get their lives back on track, go to college, and break the cycle."
We reached the house and the sheriff opened the white picket gate for me. "That's a very noble cause he's fighting for."
"I think so." I stretched my hand out for him. "Thank you, Sheriff. I appreciate all you do around here."
He took my hand and shook it. "No thank you is necessary. And please, the rest of the town calls me Paul."
I chuckled. "I'll call you Paul when you're off duty. When you're the sheriff, I'll call you Sheriff."
He smirked. "All right. Good day, Mrs. Miller."
I paused and looked back at him. "If you want me to call you Paul, then you need to call me Bray."
He shrugged. "While I'm the sheriff, I'll call you Mrs. Miller."
"Touché." I laughed, and, with a wave, went back into the house.
Chapter Three
"The kids are excited to meet Jackson," Forrest said, his voice heightened with anticipation. "And you, too, but mostly Jackson."
I laughed as I locked in the car seat. "I know. I'd be more excited to meet Jackson than me, too."
I shut the door and Forrest grabbed me by the waist. "No, you're still my favorite." He gave me a long, warm kiss. When he pulled back he whispered, "It's been six weeks."
I burst out laughing. "So it has."
"Should I get a babysitter tonight so we can have some privacy?" He placed his hand over my breast and squeezed.
"Ouch!" I pushed him off. "Tender. You've got to be soft."
"Oh yeah." He grabbed me around the waist and whispered in my ear, "I'll go as soft and slow as you want me to. I'm going to drive you wild."
I giggled.
"Hello Miller’s!"
We jumped and waved at the middle aged couple riding by on their bikes.
"Caught out," Forrest muttered with a grin.
"Get in the car," I said with a laugh.
The drive out to the Reservation council buildings took just over half an hour. When we arrived, I stared up at the modern buildings, amazed at the contrast to the rustic town of Papina that felt like a remnant of the fifties. The council building were several stories and made with modern designs and architecture.
"Forrest, this is incredible," I said. "After seeing the town, I kind of expected this to be similar."
He lifted out the car seat and stood beside me. "They have a casino near Bearville. It brings in a nice income for the community."
"Ah, casinos." I elbowed him in the ribs. "I might have to go visit it to feel like I'm home again."
He rolled his eyes. "You didn't live anywhere near the strip, and usually spent your money on clothes and cosmetics anyway."
I grinned and wrapped my arm through his.
We made our way through the buildings, and smiled proudly as Forrest eagerly showed him off to everyone we passed.
He led me through to a small building labeled "School" beside its door. Just inside the door was a small administration office, where a plump woman sat. "Forrest, is this your little family?"
She rushed around and bent over to look at the sleeping Jackson. "Oh, isn't he adorable. He's going to be a handsome one just like his dad."
"He actually got his good looks from his mother." Forrest squeezed my waist. "Rose, this is my wife, Braydon."
I stretched out my hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
She hesitated, before giving it a weak shake. "You too."
"I'm going to take them down to meet the kids," Forrest said. "Who's here right now?"
"You have Andrew, John, Caleb, and Sheldon, and the girls are Angelique, Danielle, and Nova."
Forrest scowled. "Where are the other three?"
"No shows." She shrugged.
"I guess I'll have to go out and check on them this afternoon." He leaned over, swiped his Tribal ID, and led me down the corridor to a small classroom.
My nerves bubbled inside me, but I fought to suppress them for Forrest's sake. These were troubled kids, which was why they came to these special classes with Forrest.
Papina (Bearville County) Page 2