by Ann Yost
“Tell him that.”
“He’s a friend. A good friend.”
Cam rolled his shoulders as if trying to shrug off the irritation. He stubbed out the cigarette. “Tomorrow’s gonna be a bitch. We’ll go on a walk or a picnic or something then we can disappear for awhile. Everyone’s think we’re up here screwing.”
“Where will we be really?”
“Back in Eden. I need to find out how to open that safe.”
Molly shook her head. She only went into town when there was a compelling reason to do so. She figured this didn’t qualify.
“I’ll stay here.”
“No.”
She stared at him. “You want it to look like we’re in our room, right? So if anybody comes to the door, I’ll call out something like ‘we don’t want to be disturbed.’”
He looked as if he wanted to argue. He also looked exhausted.
“We’ll discuss that tomorrow. We’ll take a walk in the morning right on the grounds then go over to the Blackbird spinney for the picnic.”
The Blackbird spinney. Pain sliced through Molly. Had he chosen the spot just to punish her? Was he deliberately taking her back to the one and only place they’d made love?
“No,” he said, reading her thoughts as usual. “It’s the only picnic area around. There’ll probably be others there, too.”
So he’d chosen it for safety.
He didn’t want to risk another impromptu make out session. Molly gazed at the scowl on his face. Not much chance of that. Cam was all business.
“Once we grab the laptop, your husband will have to take the next steps.”
She didn’t bother to correct him this time.
“I hear he’s moving back to Maine.”
She nodded. She wished she could tell Cam that Daniel had never taken his place in her heart. That he’d never even tried to. That nobody ever could.
Cam eyed her. “I suppose you know he’s planning to live in the studio at the Garden of Eden,” he said.
She hadn’t know that.
“What are you talking about?”
He raised his dark brows. “Is there a communication problem between the lovebirds? Grey Wolf plans to write a book about the history of western Maine and Sharon is lining up folks from Eden and Bangor for him to interview.”
Molly knew suddenly, this had nothing to do with Daniel. Cam had deliberately introduced Sharon Johnson’s name to remind both of them that he belonged to another woman. She lifted her chin.
“You don’t mind another man living with your fiancée?”
“She’s not my fiancée.”
The response was bullet-quick and he looked as if he regretted it the moment the words were out of his mouth.
“In any case, I trust her.”
Another dagger in the heart. This time he’d chosen a woman he could trust. She thought, again, of all he’d been through since they’d been together. Of all both of them had been through.
“Let’s not fight,” she said.
But he wasn’t finished with the subject.
“Kinda strange Grey Wolf moving to Eden,” Cam said. “I thought you people always stuck to the rez.”
She knew he wasn’t really talking about Daniel or any other Penobscot. He was talking about her. Her fear of leaving the comfort of the rez. He believed her decision all those years ago had been based solely on that fear. She longed to tell him there was more to it. She longed to beg him to understand that she owed the people of Blackbird and that she still felt that debt. She longed to tell him that, all of that notwithstanding, she had loved him then.
And she loved him now.
She thought about the baby she’d lost. The old ache throbbed and a deep sense of loss wrapped around her heart. Old grief mixed with new weariness. It splashed up on Molly like angry waves over the side of a canoe. She just wanted to go to sleep. As always, he seemed to read her mind.
“I’m sleeping on the couch. You take the bed.” He snagged a blanket from the bedroom closet and, ignoring her protests, he strode into the bathroom. Moments later he emerged, walked through the bedroom and closed the door so that she was left with the bathroom, the bed and privacy. She stood very still for a moment.
“Goodnight,” she murmured, finally, although she knew he couldn’t hear her.
****
Cam checked the luminous dial on the watch buried in the dark hair covering his wrist. Five a.m. He shifted again in yet another futile attempt to fit his tall frame on the awkwardly curved divan.
Molly’s scent haunted him but he knew he was imagining it. A sturdy wooden door separated them. He couldn’t smell her. Not really. But her fragrance was in his head, like a siren’s song.
Damn. Over the years he’d forgotten how perfectly they’d fit together. She hadn’t been his first girlfriend but she’d been his first love. He’d mourned her loss with real grief and he’d never felt the same depth of emotion with anyone else. He’d told himself he didn’t want that kind of vulnerability again and it was true.
But he wanted Tiger Lily. Just as he had all those years ago.
He shifted again, trying, in vain to get comfortable. He had to remember that it hadn’t been a shared passion. She’d dumped him without so much as a Dear John letter. Nothing. The only thing that had greeted him that December when he’d arrived home from school had been her absence and the information that she’d married Daniel Grey Wolf.
Information that had torn out his heart.
Forget it. He forced himself to focus on the situation at Blackbird. The Indian casino business was notoriously under-regulated and under-policed. Its cash-and-carry nature appealed to shysters. He’d known that, but it had seemed to him, to others in Eden and to the Tribal Council that it was the best way to increase revenue for the rez. When he’d started work on the project, he’d paid close attention to the financial details. Then his partner, contractor Joe Packer of Packer, Inc., had been murdered and he, Cam, had had to finish the project alone. During the course of that investigation, Cam had come into contact with Molly Whitecloud and they’d talked for the first time since their break up. She’d confirmed his persistent belief that she’d broken up with him because she’d been unable to leave the rez after all.
The experience of reliving and rehashing the painful past had prompted him to stay as far away as he could from the reservation. He’d seen the project through to completion mostly with surrogates and, as a result, there were problems.
He’d been negligent, no question about it. His pathetic efforts to protect his own heart had led to disaster at the casino and spa and now the tribe was paying the price.
He stared up at the white ceiling. It was time to suck it up and take care of business here. He’d get this mess cleaned up. He and Molly would do it together.
And then they’d go their separate ways for good.
Cam flung his legs over the side of the divan and got to his feet without making a conscious decision of where he was going. He crossed the vanilla carpet and put his hand on the knob to the bedroom door. He expected it to be locked. He hoped it was locked.
It turned easily under his hand.
He pulled the door open and stepped into the shadows.
Her even breathing told him she was asleep. With the curtains open the moon shone through the latticework on the window tracing a crosshatch design on her petal-smooth complexion. She looked like a Native American Sleeping Beauty. Cam knew Molly was a mixed breed, a woman with a white mother and a father from a small Mohawk tribe in Ohio. He knew she’d been orphaned and, through a national Native American adoption organization, brought to Blackbird and the Whitecloud family.
For the first time he wondered about her childhood. His own mother had left him and his baby sister Lucy with their father while she’d moved across the country with his elder brother, Baz. Cam knew that experience had crippled him, embittered him. Had it been the same with Molly? She, too, had been abandoned by her mother and ultimately her father.
>
Cam thought about Daisy. Would she suffer permanently from the loss of a mother she’d barely known? He hoped not. If things had gone right, she’d have been Molly’s daughter. His heart twisted. She would have made a wonderful mother. Why hadn’t she gone that route? Why had her marriage with Grey Wolf ended? The man obviously cared about her.
He couldn’t stand to think about Molly’s husband. Ex-husband. Hell, he should be thinking about his own future wife.
He stared at her face. The dark lashes lay against high cheekbones. She looked soft and sweet and vulnerable. His heart was full. He wanted to crawl into the bed with her, to feel her heart beating against his chest, to feel her warm breath sigh out against his neck. He fisted his fingers to keep from touching the soft cheek as he stood and stared at her.
Time went by. Cam didn’t know how long he stood in her room staring at her, feeling her in his bones and skin. He didn’t know at what point need overcame reason and he touched her soft cheek, a contact that warmed his soul. He didn’t know when he gave in to the overwhelming need to lie next to her. He only knew that when he woke up he was stretched out on the heart-shaped bed, Molly’s cheek was pressed against his chest and his arms were around her.
Chapter Four
Molly awoke to find a yellow Post-It affixed to her forehead. Cam’s bold printing informed her he’d gone to the kitchen to collect their picnic. She smiled at the note. He was so responsible. Always had been. Naturally he’d let her know where he’d gone. In writing.
She’d bet his late wife had loved his consideration. Cam’s manners were impeccable but the underlying kindness he hid behind his gruff manner was what touched her. Soon they would touch Sharon Johnson, too. Molly’s heart thumped hard but she shrugged away the pain. She was at the resort to do a job. Cameron Outlaw’s habits, considerate or otherwise, were not her business.
She dressed in the black cocktail dress. She thrust her black stockings into her purse and hurried to the room she’d been assigned by Dwight Winston. After a quick shower, she re-braided her hair and slipped into a short, buttercup-colored sundress, strapped on a pair of sandals and grabbed a sweater. It had been warm for late September but this was Maine. Harsh winter, the Moon of Freezing Rivers, was never far off.
She glanced at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks glowed and her dark eyes sparkled. The moments behind the sofa had been surreal but they’d supplied her with a new memory. Long ago she’d decided not to fight her feelings for Cam. She knew she’d never forget the pleasure of his weight against her or the sound of his roughened breathing. She’d never forget his uniquely masculine scent or the heat of that kiss. She wrapped her arms around herself. The memory of this adventure would haunt her for a long time. It would be painful, of course, but it would also be sweet.
As she locked her door and started down the hall, another memory came to her.
She’d recognized the voice of Dwight Winston’s companion and wished she hadn’t. Davey Tall Tree, the tribe’s sagama, had brought her back from a trip to another reservation in Canada. Sandra Tall Tree was half his age, slim and pretty and her nose rode high in the air. None of the women on the rez liked her much and Molly was guiltily aware that she hadn’t spent any time welcoming the newcomer. Was that why she’d taken up with Dwight Winston? Molly considered that. Sandra dressed well and liked pretty things like the shiny sports car Davey had bought for her. Life with the staid, former tribal cop, must be dull but it seemed more likely that Sandra had gotten involved with Winston for mercenary reasons.
Molly sighed. She feared Sandra might be involved as an accessory in illegal activities. But whether that was true, Davey would be devastated when this came out. If it came out. It wouldn’t do the tribe any good, either.
In any case, the habit of protecting the rez and those who lived there, held strong. Molly decided to keep her mouth shut and her eyes open. At least for now. If necessary, she’d talk to Sandra herself.
She took the elevator to the ground floor and found her fake lover in the breakfast bar. He wore a denim shirt and khakis and looked more appetizing than anything on the menu. Tall, dark and dangerous with those snapping blue eyes. This morning he looked like a poised, mature, successful financier on vacation with his girlfriend.
Most of that description was true.
A memory of the butterscotch sofa rippled through her. He hadn’t been poised last night. She shivered with desire.
He frowned at her. “You okay?”
She summoned a smile.
“Fine.”
“Got a sweater?” His tone was curt, impersonal, but the question touched her just the same.
“Yes,” she said, showing him.
They stopped in the kitchen to pick up a picnic basket prepared by the staff. Molly admired his organizational skills. Cam had always been good on anticipating needs and follow through.
Except once.
He caught her hand in his for the benefit of any curious bystanders, he explained, and they strolled out the back, across the sparsely populated golf course and through the woods that separated the entertainment complex from Blackbird Reservation. They did not exchange a word as he led her to the spinney by Blackbird Pond and Molly soaked in the morning sun and inhaled the familiar woodsy smell and shamelessly pretended that it was thirteen years earlier when she’d had a right to Cam’s company.
He stopped at the familiar spot and Molly’s heart turned over. He spread a red-and-white tablecloth on the ground, a grim look on his hard mouth. It wasn’t thirteen years ago. He was all business.
He knelt down to unpack the picnic and the sun on his shiny, dark hair revealed something new.
“Oh my gosh,” she said, involuntarily, “you’re going gray.”
He turned to look at her, an unreadable expression in the morning-glory colored eyes.
“Time passes.”
They’d wasted so much of it. More than a decade. Sorrow and regret hit her like a hail of bullets. She could barely speak. He reached a hand and pulled her down to the grass and she could read his thoughts.
I know you’re sad but we have today. Let’s enjoy it.
She sat and took in a deep breath while he set out the lunch.
“How’s your dad?”
He looked at her oddly. “He’s all right. Retired to a little town in Arizona last year after a heart attack. Didn’t you know that?”
She nodded. She had known it, of course. Hallie kept her up to date with the latest happenings in the Outlaw family. He waited but she didn’t explain why she’d asked the question. His eyes probed her face.
“Did you ever meet dad?”
“Once.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“At the graduation picnic. You were playing softball, I think.” She didn’t think. She knew.
Something about her tone must have made him suspicious.
“What happened, Lily. What did he say to you?”
The old nickname caught at her emotions. She shrugged and looked away. It was all ancient history now.
“He congratulated me.”
“That all?”
“He asked me about my plans. You know, whether I was going to college.”
“And he pointed out my bright future.”
She looked at him, quickly. He understood.
Cam sighed. “Dad had met John and Susan Larkin at a party in Boston. They became friends. All three of them thought it would be a great idea to set me up with Elise once we got to college.”
She nodded. She knew all about that. She knew, too, that Elise had been the one to answer the phone the night Molly had finally gotten up the courage to call Cam, to tell him about the pregnancy. The other woman had been friendly enough but clear. She was Cam’s girlfriend now. He wouldn’t be returning the phone call.
When Molly learned, several years later, that Cam had married Elise Larkin, she hadn’t been surprised. Jesse Outlaw, she thought, had gotten his wish.
She thought suddenly of th
e grief Cam had been through.
“It must have been hard to lose her.”
He stared out at the lake. His lack of comment didn’t surprise her. His wife’s death still hurt. Why would he want to share it with Molly, a woman who’d betrayed him? She felt anxious to change the subject.
“Do you remember your mother?”
Cam’s lips twisted.
“Sure. She left when I was ten. She took my brother with her and left Lucy and me with Dad. She died a few years ago. Why?”
“No reason. I always picture you as a little boy playing in the backyard amongst sheets billowing on a clothesline.” She grimaced. “I guess that sounds pretty silly.”
“Not so silly. I must have told you about that. Baz and I liked to play tag in between the sheets. Asia would scold us when we got them dirty because she’d have to wash them over again, but she never reported us to Dad so I guess she didn’t really mind.” He grinned at the memory. “What about you? What did you like to do as a kid?”
Molly appreciated his interest but she didn’t really want to tell him about her unemployed, alcoholic father or the mother she barely remembered.
Laundry hadn’t been a priority in her chaotic youth.
“We never had a really settled home,” she said. “And I didn’t have any siblings. When my dad died I came here. By then I was a little old for tag.”
Cam’s gaze lingered on her. She felt him waiting for details. Was he still looking for answers? Did he still wonder why she’d married Daniel? Probably not. It was all so long ago.
The resort’s chef had provided slices of broiled chicken, cups of potato salad and bite-sized pieces of melon and papaya. Molly ate little but she felt a welcome sense of peace. This place was home to her. More than that, it was sacred ground. She’d come here many times by herself over the years. She liked to feel the presence of earlier generations, in particular, the other Mollies.
And, sometimes, she’d just sit here and recall every detail she could remember about the afternoon she and Cam had made love.
“Thinking about the past?”