Dance With Destiny

by Louise Crawford Ramona Butler

  Her gaze asked questions which she didn’t give voice to.

  Cole had his own unspoken questions. Was she falling in love with him, too? Was that what he read in her eyes?

  "I– we’re a package deal."

  “I know that, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

  He wanted to tell her he loved her, but those words had never come easy – not with Lanni, not now.

  Her lips brushed his. Light. Sweet. "Your bedroom?" she whispered.

  He forgot everything except her. Their journey up the stairs had a surreal quality, as though time had rolled backwards, the love of his life beside him, his daughter safely tucked into bed – his family. A strong sense of protectiveness surged through him.

  Inside his darkened bedroom, he touched a match to the candle on the nightstand and followed Destiny's gaze as it skidded around the shadowed room. "It's rather stark," he said, seeing it through her eyes. He'd taken down the wallpaper border, repainted, bought a different bedspread – beige, all so he wouldn't be reminded of Lanni. The room was almost completely colorless, like his life had been for the past two years. But he was ready now for the rainbow, ready to dip into the palette of passion that was this woman. His destiny...

  She fixed her eyes on him, ebony pools in the flickering candlelight, beckoning him to enter their depths and drink of her ruby wine. "I've missed you," she whispered.

  He ran his fingers through the long silky strands of her hair, awed by her, the fact she was there. "Like an old shoe?" he teased, and released a sigh when she smiled.

  "Like a favorite moccasin." She lifted her mouth to his.

  She tasted like plum, peach, burgundy. Luscious. Unforgettable. Unique. Candlelight played across her dusky skin, gilding every curve. "Destiny."

  *****

  Beep, beep, beep, beep.

  Cole fought wakefulness, fought the noise dragging him away from his dream. He burrowed under his pillow, but a feather-light touch grazed his back.

  "Not yet, Lanni,” he groaned, his body begging for five more minutes of slumber.

  The name ricochetted around the dark room and smacked him right between his eyes. Lanni? He pulled his head from beneath the pillow to see if Destiny had heard his blunder. Even in the shadowed moonlight he could read the answer in her expression.

  Double darn!

  She rolled away from him, and he was immediately aware of the high desert’s early morning chill.

  “I’m sorry.” Words torn from his heart. “It was a stupid mistake, Destiny. I– ” He needed to touch her, needed her to understand. “I haven’t slept with anyone since– " Hell, he was going about this all wrong. "When the alarm went off– ” He dared a touch, a solitary fingertip to trail along her shoulder. When she didn’t pull away, he scooted closer, fitting to her like a spoon.

  She was soft, warm, yielding.

  “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

  She turned toward him, at last. “It’s okay, Cole. She must have been pretty special.”

  He slipped his fingers through her hair, then stroked her cheek. “You’re special.”

  A hesitant smile. She snuggled close, her softness pressed against him. One part of his anatomy was now very definitely awake. But he wrapped her in his arms and simply held her, the knowledge she would be leaving for work in a few minutes making him tighten his hold as though he could stop time. The minutes ticked by too quickly.

  "I have to get ready," she whispered, gently pulling away and swinging her legs over the edge of the rumpled bed.

  With a groan, he let her go.

  He switched on the bedside lamp. The soft glow bathed her in gold as she padded into the bathroom, leaving him to hunger for her against him once more.

  He rolled over and sat up. He wasn't going back to sleep, that was for darn sure. He heard the shower door, listened to the sound of the spray. Maybe he should just slip in there with her, get down on one knee and ask her to marry him.

  Ha! After calling her Lanni, she’d throw him out on his ear.

  No, he told himself, she understood.

  He considered the shower again, chuckling at the imagined scene. He'd probably drown! A sopping wet “Will you marry me?” would never do.

  The water stopped. He heard the shower door click open, then closed. Muffled sounds filtered out to him. His gaze lingered on her clothes strewn across his floor. Was he sure about this feeling in his heart? About her?

  Yes and yes. But he had to choose an especially romantic time to propose, not when she was about to rush off to work. He would ask her in some wild, crazy, adventurous way she'd never forget. Her residency would be complete in three weeks. That gave him time to think up some unique way to pop the question. Then she would have two months off for their honeymoon.

  Suddenly lighthearted, like a kid anticipating Christmas, he stretched, relishing the cool sheets against his skin. Maybe he'd just camp outside her apartment for five days, move in a little bit closer every night like the Paiute wedding ritual of old. The fourth day, he'd scare up a rabbit or two, present his kill for his intended bride to clean and...

  Uh-oh, problem number one. When the hell was hunting season? He couldn't imagine waiting six months for it to open up – maybe even longer. And poaching? Well, he didn't want to spend his honeymoon in jail.

  And what would he do if Destiny handed Mr. Cottontail back and said, "You clean it"?

  Heck, those Paiute Romeos of old had it easy – without all the government bureaucracy and irate game wardens to contend with. Not to mention Women's Lib.

  His whole body felt like it was smiling. Was he glowing with happiness the same way Kayla had been when she'd held up her third place ribbon?

  Probably.

  He had three weeks. Then he'd give Destiny about a day and a half to plan the wedding. They'd take a month-long honeymoon. He had plenty of overtime accumulated. He'd talk to personnel tomorrow. It sounded so right!

  What if she says no? his traitorous mind whispered.

  He refused to entertain the thought. There was no reason in the world for her to say no.

  Chapter Nine

  Destiny arrived at the hospital home filled with a glow she was sure could light the whole world. She was very much in love with the good doctor. When Cole held her in his arms she could do anything. Throughout her shift and the following day she thought of him constantly, his adorable daughter, too.

  She interrupted her lunch break with Fran to call him between shifts. At the sound of his sleepy "hello" her pulse raced happily.

  "Wake up, Dr. Jackson. I want to invite you and Kayla to the Inter-tribal Powwow this weekend."

  A long pause. "Where?"

  The reluctance in his voice puzzled her.

  "Pyramid Lake. On the reservation there."

  Silence.

  "Are you awake, Doctor?"

  Cole chuckled, sounding more like himself.

  She hurried on. "My brother will be there. I want you to meet him."

  "When?"

  "Saturday afternoon." She told herself the caution she heard in his voice was mere sleepiness. "We'll probably stay late, so bring warm clothes for the evening. There'll be lots of food, but I'll pack some sandwiches and fruit, just in case nothing appeals to you."

  "You have the night off?"

  Her heart pounded. Was he asking her to stay the night with him? "Yes," she answered quickly – too quickly. Darn, she'd never win any awards for playing hard to get.

  "Why don't I pick you up Saturday around two, if that's early enough, then take you home Sunday morning."

  She smiled so broadly that a nurse standing nearby stared. "As long as you don't look at my disaster of an apartment."

  "I've hired a housekeeper. She starts next week." He sounded pleased. "Maybe you can borrow her."

  "A housekeeper?"

  "Don't sound so shocked. I'm building a small cottage at the back of the property for her. It'll be finished in a month or so. She can commute until then."

/>   "Won't she charge double for two houses?"

  "It'll be worth it if I can see more of you."

  "Is that why you're hiring one?" Actually, she was surprised he didn't have one already.

  "Let's just say it's a combination of things. Kayla. Work. You. My mountain of dirty laundry is beginning to obscure the view. Not to mention cobwebs and the dust that keeps sifting in – can't keep the desert out."

  "Do you always move this fast when you make a decision?"

  "Sometimes." She could almost see the smile in his voice, the promise in his blue eyes. "But there are some things which shouldn't be rushed." His suggestive tone evoked a sigh, his voice making her long for his touch, and more.

  "See you Saturday, Cole." She hung up quickly, before her "I love you" spilled out. She had a feeling the powwow would be a turning point in their relationship. But would Old Man Coyote be laughing, or would she?

  *****

  Right on time, Cole knocked on Destiny's door. He gave her a brief kiss, then he stepped back. "Kayla's waiting in the car."

  "Nervous about visiting the rez?" she asked. He was tense about something, she could feel it.

  “A little...maybe."

  "Don't worry. We don't take scalps or dance the Ghost Dance anymore."

  He smiled, but it was halfhearted. She slid into the Lexus. Kayla, bubbling with enthusiasm in the backseat, held a model airplane for inspection. "It's an F16 fighter jet. I bought it with my allowance. Daddy helped me put it together, we painted it last night!" The car pulled onto Highway 395.

  "It's just beautiful, Kayla, such a bright array of colors under each wing." Destiny glanced at Cole, confused by his remoteness as he slipped on a pair of sunglasses. They made her feel even more cut-off from him. He was trying to act like everything was fine, pretending he wasn't nervous, but he was. Was he having second thoughts about meeting her brother, and the implied commitment?

  Her throat tightened. Had his brief kiss at the door been a goodbye kiss? Surely he wouldn't have brought Kayla if he'd decided to break it off.

  "What's wrong?" she murmured, hoping Kayla's airplane would keep her occupied while she and Cole talked.

  He shrugged. The quiet was uncomfortable. "You mentioned the Ghost Dance?"

  She wanted to pursue her own questions, but Kayla's ears perked up. “What about a ghost dance?”

  "Well..." Destiny put her worry on hold. "The Ghost Dance was started by Wovoka, an ancient medicine man who promised our people a Messiah. The dance was supposed to protect the people from bullets. But neither prophecy came to pass, so it died out."

  A muscle jerked in Cole's jaw. "I've heard stories about medicine men who claimed bullets couldn't harm them"

  “According to legend, such a thing was possible. Not easily achieved, perhaps, but possible.”

  “Doesn’t anyone do the Ghost Dance now?” Kayla asked.

  “From time to time it resurges.” She glanced at Cole, hoping to coax a smile as she added, “But you’ll be safe enough today.”

  His face remained set, his gaze fixed on the road. As they drove through Reno, exited the freeway and headed out of town, she searched for conversation. "It's said that the Lakota warrior, Crazy Horse, couldn't be killed by bullets. They bounced off him."

  "And you believe that?" Cole's expression gave no hint about his thoughts. Was it simple curiosity in his voice, or did it hint at condescension?

  "Yes," she said simply. "I do."

  He glanced back at Kayla whose interest was once again on her airplane. His mirrored gaze swung back to the road. They'd reached a split on Pyramid Highway, one fork continuing north, the other heading toward the east. He turned right, the cords of his neck tight as the Lexus skirted the lake. If it weren't for Kayla, she'd ask again what was wrong.

  Dusted with a light snow – early this year – the surrounding hills stood silent watch over a monochrome landscape. Already touched by winter, the reservation glistened silver and gunmetal gray, chrome and pewter, gentled by shades of lavender and shadowed with deep purple undergrowth. All except the lake itself, with its constantly changing shades of blue. No bright sun this trip, but when it caressed the lake, Destiny knew the waters were a brilliant turquoise. Considered by many to be the most beautiful desert lake in the nation, today it was stark, almost eerie-looking. But still breathtaking. Home.

  "Look, Kayla, there's the pyramid." Destiny pointed to a distant peaked rock. "In historic times, when John Fremont explored this area, it was surrounded by the lake."

  Kayla's eyebrows drew together in distress. "Not anymore. Everyone's using too much water."

  Destiny laughed, once again impressed by the child's astuteness. "Well, I think there will still be enough for your bath when you get home tonight."

  She sighed as a sense of belonging washed over her. She was already home. Dwellings of every category dotted the countryside. Shabby trailers. Small, neat houses. Even a few fairly new, expensive-looking homes. Nixon wasn't much of a town by most people's standards. But these were her people and she felt a deep connection to this land and the enormous body of water nearby.

  She glanced at Cole to see if he might be similarly affected. He’d removed his sunglasses and now wore an almost savage expression, jaws locked, eyes fixed straight ahead, looking neither right nor left. Like he’d taken a wrong turn.

  His scowl sucked the air from her lungs. Where did he think she'd grown up? In a wickiup mansion? She stifled the hurt, deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt – maybe she was reading too much into his silence.

  She motioned him to a dirt parking area. By the end of the day, the Lexus would need to be washed.

  She forgot the minor worry as they climbed from the car. Home. She lengthened her stride, pulling ahead of Cole and Kayla, anxious to join the distant crowd. This was a sacred place, shrouded in mystery, believed by her people to be the home of both good and evil spirits. When she danced, she and the spirits were one, and she felt a connection to her heritage she’d never found any other way.

  Home. She lived in two worlds, concrete and feathers. But here in this place, she felt much more Paiute than she'd ever felt elsewhere, even more than she had just an hour before.

  The drums grew louder, the rhythmic chants of the singers spurring her forward. She squinted at the crowd, trying to locate Jake’s tall frame. She spotted him as he broke from the group and came toward her, all decked out in formal regalia, porcupine quills, horn beads, and fringe swinging with each proud stride of his moccasined feet. An impressive figure. Nothing like the long-haired wildman in the red bandana headband who'd fixed her bike. "Jake!" She hugged him, careful of his costume, and the garment bag which held her own.

  What looked like two brothers, both about Jake’s age, broke away from the other dancers and ran toward her. She didn't recognize either, at first, then gasped her cousin’s name, "Quinn!" He’d grown a foot since she’d seen him last, but he had the same intense gaze.

  With a boyish smile that she imagined had broken quite a few hearts, Quinn introduced his friend Little Joseph.”

  Before she could do more than cast a smile in Little Joseph’s direction, Jake nodded to Cole. "Hey, Doc, how are you?"

  Shock washed over her. "You two know each other?"

  "Who? Broken Hoof?” Jake was laughing, but he sobered quickly, glancing back and forth between them--several times. He looked confused. “Sure I know him. He used to– " His gaze clouded. “He's with you?"

  Cole's face flamed. Jake muttered an oath, grabbed Jake’s arm, and suggested – in Paiute – that he and Little Joseph get lost. They disappeared faster than coins in a slot machine.

  What was going on?

  She looked to Cole, who stood silent, radiating unease. Kayla was clutching his hand, all eyes and ears. Destiny felt like the brunt of a bad joke. “I don’t understand.”

  Cole glanced at Kayla, then back at her. “We’ll talk later.”

  After a quick nod to Jake, Cole pulled his dau
ghter hurriedly across the grounds to the dance arena, leaving Destiny alone with her brother. She searched his suddenly closed expression. "Will you please tell me what is going on here?"

  He ignored her question. "You going to join the women in the Traditional and the Fancy Dance? They're coming up – two more dances before the Traditional. The Fancy isn’t ‘til after the gawkers leave."

  "Jake..." She forced her exasperation down. It wasn’t his fault she felt so confused. "Of course, I'm going to dance."

  He gestured toward Cole’s departing figure. “He used to come out here, several years ago. I saw him around, never really talked to him.” Jake’s dark eyes, so like her own, skidded away from her.

  “And?” she prompted, irritated that he obviously knew something she didn’t about Cole.

  His gaze narrowed. “Don’t you know?”

  “Know what? You’re acting like this is the Little Big Horn and he’s General Custer. Are you planning a massacre because you think Cole’s stolen my virtue?”

  “Virtue is a white concept.”

  “Don’t sidestep, Jake.” She felt like wringing his neck, wanted to wipe that I warned you expression from his face.

  “You don’t know about his wife?”

  “I know she died a few years ago.” She frowned, then almost laughed as a ridiculous notion popped into her head. “You’re not thinking he had something to do with her death, are you? His wife had cancer, Jake. Cole’s no Dr. Kervokian.”

  “White men,” Jake snarled before his mouth slammed shut like the door to Fort Knox. "You can change here." He pointed her toward one of the scattered trailers.

  When he turned to leave, she grabbed his arm, yanking him back. "Jake, what is it?"

  There was angry fire in his eyes. "Haven't you looked at his daughter?"

  "Kayla? Of course, I have!" The child's impish little face danced through Destiny’s mind, a beautiful little girl with exotic coloring.

  Jake mouthed a very non-Paiute epithet. "Talk to Cole," he mumbled, then started to move away,

  Again, she pulled him back. "Wait a minute! Are you telling me Cole's first wife was– ?" She had assumed Kayla’s mother had been Hispanic or maybe Basque, early settlers to this part of Nevada