by Ann Yost
“You know she and I are a lot alike. I was lucky to find Muriel and James. And everybody on the rez. Sandra was lucky to find you, Davey.”
The sagama smiled his sweet smile. “I’ll tell her you stopped by.”
As Molly stepped out into the crisp, fall night, a deep sadness tugged at her heart. She’d spent the last dozen years trying to nurture and protect the people of Blackbird Reservation but she couldn’t help Sandra and she couldn’t help Davey anymore than she could provide Lynn Brown Bear with a decent living. At least they’d put a stop to the exploitation of the girls up at the casino. She thought of the sixteen-year-old pregnant with some unknown man’s child and her lips compressed into a straight line.
Sometimes life could be very cruel.
Her phone jangled. It was Nancy Dove concerned about her daughter who appeared to be in some pain. Molly grimaced before she acknowledged to herself that Lenaya would be better off without the unborn baby.
“I’ll be right over,” she promised. She stopped at her cottage to pick up a toothbrush and a change of clothing in preparation for a long siege but the pains lessened and stopped and by the time the gray dawn had chased away the midnight sky, Molly was back in her own bed.
****
Cam pulled into his accustomed spot in front of the Garden of Eden. He’d had to postpone the dinner he’d promised Sharon when he got the call from Grey Wolf.
First there was the business up at the casino and then he’d responded to a summons from his former in-laws to appear at a family function. And then he’d needed to spend time with Daisy.
Excuses, he thought, irritated with himself. He dreaded telling Sharon Johnson, one of the nicest women he’d met, that they couldn’t see each other anymore, particularly since they worked together on Eden County’s Economic Development team and she was friends with all the other women in his life, including Molly Whitecloud!
Damn.
Not that this was about Molly. Cam had refused to let his mind dwell on her during the days that had passed since their time together at the casino. He hadn’t, however, been able to control his dreams and he’d awakened nearly every night with a terrible sense of emptiness—and a painful arousal.
Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn.
He’d thought he was over her. He’d wanted to be over her. He had to get over her.
But he couldn’t marry Sharon Johnson. The woman deserved more than a fool who was still in love with the high school sweetheart who’d dumped him more than a decade earlier.
Cam sucked in a breath. He not only had to break up with Sharon, he had to do it with a lie. He had to do it without compromising either Molly’s reputation or his own.
He got out of the Mercedes and strode up the short walkway to the inn’s front door. At least he’d send her off with a good meal. He’d made reservations at Minotaur’s in Bangor.
The late summer night felt more like early fall and the fire crackling on the hearth in the inn’s cozy lobby was welcoming. Libby Campbell, a junior at Eden Consolidated High, was doing desk duty. She smiled at him.
“Hey, Mr. Outlaw,” she said. “Nice flowers.”
He’d brought a bouquet of white orchids. He’d been unsure of floral protocol for a break up.
“Ms. Johnson’s in her suite.”
Cam nodded. He knocked on the door but didn’t wait for a response.
Sharon was standing by an arched window. She wore an amber-colored silk dress that came to her knees and revealed her long, well-shaped legs. Her hair was pulled into a sleek knot. The man next to her stood close enough to put his arm around her although the two were not touching. The shaman’s shoulder length hair was thick and mostly gray. It was held in place by a leather strip. The severe hairstyle accentuated the man’s high cheekbones and noble profile.
Cam frowned at Grey Wolf. What the devil was he doing here? He growled the other man’s name.
“Outlaw,” said Daniel. He remained by the window as Sharon hurried toward Cam.
“Hey,” she said, softly. “What lovely flowers. I hope I have a vase that’ll do them justice.” She sounded oddly nervous as she plucked the flowers out of his hand. He said nothing. He couldn’t seem to look away from her companion, the man Molly had chosen over him.
Sharon, a perceptive woman, couldn’t miss the tension.
“Daniel’s writing a history of western Maine,” she said.
“On Friday night?”
The redhead’s laugh was nervous. “I’m helping him set up interviews with a few of the old-timers in town,” she explained.
He scarcely listened. He’d assumed Grey Wolf was out on the rez with Molly. The man adored the Penobscot midwife, always had. So what was he doing in this intimate setting with Sharon Johnson? Cam scowled at him, unsure whether he was angry at Grey Wolf for hanging around Sharon or for failing to be with Molly.
Or, perhaps it was for marrying Molly all those years ago.
“I’ll get out of your way,” Grey Wolf said. His dark eyes met Cam’s but his words were for Sharon. “Thanks for the names and numbers. I’ll give these folks a call right away.” He started to stride past Cam.
“Wait,” Cam said, stopping him. “Anything new out at the rez?” He cursed himself, silently. He’d successfully stayed away from Molly all week. He didn’t need or want to know what was going on with her. “Never mind,” he said. “Forget it.”
Grey Wolf ’s dark eyes held his as if he knew exactly what the other man wanted to hear.
“The state crime lab reviewed the information on the laptop. It looks as if the fraud and embezzlement charges will hold long enough for an indictment of Dwight Winston and Eddie DiMarco. Obviously, only Winston will be charged.”
Cam nodded. He already knew that. And Grey Wolf knew that he knew. “That it?”
Sharon had disappeared into her small kitchen. Daniel fixed him with a long look.
“Are you asking about Molly?”
“No.”
Grey Wolf glanced toward the kitchen then back at Cam. His dark eyes were steady.
“Decide which one you want,” he said, in a low voice. “And do it quickly.”
Cam seethed internally as Grey Wolf nodded and left the room. How dare the man give him an order? Did he think it was that easy? That a man could just choose a woman and everything would fall into place? How could he explain that he’d chosen the wrong woman and she’d rejected him but his heart refused to let her go? Hell, he shouldn’t have to explain. Grey Wolf should understand better than anyone.
Sharon returned a moment later.
“I thought we’d go to Bangor,” he said. She held very still for a moment. “What?”
“Would you mind very much, I mean, I’d rather not go all that way.”
He searched the hazel eyes. The woman was no fool. She knew things had changed between them. Perhaps even on her side.
”I understand. How do you feel about the pork chop special at Little Joe’s?”
She didn’t indicate by even the flicker of an eyelash that she was surprised by his quick capitulation. She just smiled and took his arm.
“Pork chop night is my favorite,” she said. “Joe does some kind of brining thing with them. They’re wonderful.”
Cam patted her arm. He envied the man who finally got this warmhearted, classy woman. One thing was certain. Despite the oddly intimate tete-a-tete he’d interrupted, he knew it wouldn’t be Grey Wolf. When all was said and done the Penobscots stuck to their own.
Sharon chatted all through dinner. She spoke of her plans for expanding the inn and of the progress on the cooperative. She told him that the inn’s cellar was filled with furniture and books and other antique paraphernalia and that, after she’d weeded through it, she thought she might launch an historical society.
He made her laugh with impersonations of some of the characters at his in-laws dinner and she made him laugh with an anecdote about shopping with Hallie and Daisy and Robert. And, finally, she told him how much his friend
ship meant to her.
“I feel the same,” he said, taking her hand and silently blessing her for making his miserable job so easy. Her smile was tinged with sadness, though.
“You’re one in a million,” he said, meaning it. “I wish I could explain.”
Her oval nails brushed his hand. “There’s no need. I learned a long time ago that there’s no logic to emotion.” She smiled, sadly. “Love is inexplicable. I guess that’s why we’re all so obsessed with it. I know you must miss Daisy’s mother.”
She’d misunderstood. He conquered the sudden urge to tell her the truth. Hell, he didn’t even really know the truth.
“If it makes you feel any better,” she said, with a slight blush, “I’ve had second thoughts, too. Just because something’s great on paper doesn’t necessarily mean it’s right.”
He searched her face, hoping she was telling the truth.
“I’m perfectly sincere,” she assured him, “but I do have a favor to ask.”
“Anything.”
“This is a bit awkward. I can’t explain why but I’d really appreciate it if we could just sort of let our relationship fade.”
“You mean you don’t want me to post a giant ‘We Broke Up” poster on the gazebo?”
“Exactly. I’d like to avoid the endless offers of sympathy and all that well-meaning curiosity you get in a small town. I mean, we’re both trying to run businesses here.”
If he’d consulted his own interests he’d rather have made a clean break. Until the news made its way back to Molly, she’d feel guilty for betraying Sharon. But Cam owed the redhead much more than a favor and she’d asked for silence.
”Whatever you want.”
“I don’t feel like a dumpee you know,” she said, suddenly.
His heart lifted. “You don’t?”
“Not really. I’m ready for marriage and a family but I’ve known for awhile now that it wouldn’t be with you. You’ve just never looked at me with that hungry gleam in your eye.”
His lips twitched.
“You mean we haven’t had sex.”
“Yep. That’s what I mean.”
He picked up her long slim white fingers and kissed them.
“That was an oversight, my dear.”
“That,” she replied, “was probably the only thing we did right!”
Chapter Nine
Three days later Daniel was in his studio apartment. He’d opened a file of notes from his recent interview with Ebenezer Whitfield, the nonagenarian who was Eden’s oldest living inhabitant. Whitfield had been able to give him a lot of background on the woolen mill that had shut down some two decades earlier. He’d talked about the old days of milk delivery and ice boxes and the Indians who’d come from the reservation to sell their homemade baskets. He’d known one of the early Molly’s, Molly Spotted Elk, the one who had become a famous dancer in New York City.
Daniel stared at the font on the screen. He hadn’t spent any time with Sharon since she’d returned from her dinner date with Outlaw. He’d expected to hear either through the grapevine or osmosis or from her that the relationship was over but he’d heard nothing but crickets. Folks in town still anticipated an engagement announcement and everyone was pleased at the eminently suitable match between the lovely, maternal innkeeper and Eden’s golden boy, the wealthy, handsome single father. Daniel was puzzled by the inaction. He believed Outlaw to be a fundamentally decent man. Did this mean he’d chosen Sharon and put aside his feelings for Molly? Daniel told himself it wasn’t his business, that there was nothing he could do to make things right for either woman.
But he couldn’t stop wondering.
A tentative knock made the hand holding a mug of tea shake violently enough for the liquid to spill on the floor. Daniel pushed himself to his feet, walked to the door and let her in.
“Hi.” Sharon sounded so tentative. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
He tensed. Was she here to tell him about her engagement? He forced his fingers to unclench. With long practice of hiding his feelings Daniel maintained a pleasantly neutral expression on his face.
“Not at all.”
She’d obviously been working in the yard again. The bill of her baseball cap was tugged low, nearly covering her soft eyes. The stained jeans hugged her curves and Daniel felt his whole body react. The brown-checked flannel work shirt accentuated the rosy hue in her cheeks. A smudge of dirt marred one lightly freckled cheek.
He envied the damn dirt.
“You look sort of funny, Daniel. A little dazed.”
He schooled his features into a brotherly smile. “You haven’t been around for awhile. It’s good to see you. Will you come in for tea?”
She nodded. Daniel turned toward his kitchenette as she came closer knowing it would be suicide to be within touching distance. He was so wrapped up in his good intentions he didn’t realize she’d followed him until he felt a slight pressure on his forearm. Her finger tips. He sucked in a breath.
“What can I do to help?” She didn’t remove her hand. Her scent, a light cologne mixed with fresh air, a hint of pine and the smoke that is part of autumn in western Maine, invaded his senses. He heard a low sound but didn’t realize it had come from him until she snatched her hand back.
“Sorry,” she said.
He wasn’t offended. He couldn’t let her think he was. He turned to her and cupped her face with his hands. “You just startled me. That’s all. I missed you, Sharon.”
Black eyes met pale brown ones and neither blinked.
With an effort, Daniel let his hands drop away. He turned to the sink and began to fill a kettle with tap water. “I meant, I missed seeing you. Talking. What’re you up to today?”
A ridiculous question considering she’d just come in from yard work but if she noticed she didn’t say anything.
“I’m planning to sort through the stuff down in the cellar,” she explained. “I’ve put it off since I bought this place two years ago. It’s time to get serious.”
It was an implicit invitation. Daniel thought about being alone with Sharon in a cellar. It would be dim-lit and quiet. It would be dirty and her face would get smudged and he’d want to clean it off with his fingers…or his tongue. He had no business going to this party. He opened his mouth to utter and excuse.
“Need some help?”
She grinned at him. “I’d love it.”
He thrust his hands in his pockets to keep them honest.
“Maybe we’ll find a local legend or two.”
Her laughter enveloped him like morning sunshine and he felt a happiness that bordered on pain.
Why her? He’d asked himself the question many times over the past weeks and he’d never found an answer but he’d known the why didn’t really matter. This was his woman. After all this time, all these years, he’d found her. But he couldn’t have her. He had to remember that.
By the end of the afternoon, they’d talked and laughed, emptied boxes and drawers and piled dilapidated furniture—several large armoires, a handful of chairs, mirrors and antique clocks into a pile earmarked for repair and refinishing. Another larger pile was labeled “recycle,” and a third pile was destined for the dump. Daniel had salvaged a dog-eared copy of a farmer’s report that was nearly one hundred years old as well as a set of novels written fifty years earlier by a long-dead Maine author.
He viewed the organized room with satisfaction and, unthinking, he placed his hands on the small of his back and stretched out his throbbing muscles.
She walked toward him and he watched her, his eyelids hooded. He wanted to yell stop. He needed to turn and run. He did neither of those things, just stood there while her hands replaced his. He closed his eyes.
“Does it hurt here?”
“You don’t have to do that.”
She continued to rub her thumbs into his tight muscles, massaging them until they relaxed, transferring the tension to other even more sensitive parts of his anatomy.
“You go
t stiff cleaning my cellar.”
Stiff. It took him long seconds to realize she was responding to his earlier comment. He’d gotten stiff all right. Painfully stiff.
She spread her fingers so they covered more territory and he felt them on his ribs. Sweat broke out between his shoulder blades and he knew he was reaching the point of no return. He turned, causing her hands to drop, and he caught them in his.
“This isn’t right, Sharon.”
She held his gaze.
“It feels right, Daniel. I want you.”
“We’re friends. That’s all.”
“I think we can be more. I believe you’re attracted to me.”
He had to give her credit for extraordinary courage. She had to know he’d reject her. She had to know he had to reject her.
“I’m not with Cam anymore,” she went on. “We decided not to make a big deal of the break up but I’m a free woman. I can choose who I want to be with and I choose you.”
He shook his head, anguished for her and himself. She needed someone younger, someone with her own background even for just an affair.
”I know what you’re thinking,” she said, but her voice wobbled. “I know you think you’re too old and whatever but you’re wrong.”
“I’m almost fifty years old.”
“A man in his prime.”
“I can’t give you what you want.”
“I want a good man, a decent man, a man I love who will love me back.”
“And children.”
She nodded, too fundamentally honest to do other than admit to the truth.
“And children, God willing.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. Her lovely face twisted but there were no tears. Daniel could not remember a worse moment in his whole long life but he was careful not to let his regret show on his face. He was older than she. He knew such a union wouldn’t work. A ringing cell phone, for once, was a welcome sound. Daniel jammed his hand into his pocket, retrieved the phone and flipped it open.
“Grey Wolf.”
“Daniel?”
“What’s up?”
“I need to talk to you about the casino. About the murder. I think I’ve got an idea about who did it.”