A Man of Distinction

by Sarah M. Anderson

  “You—you knew this?” Confusion gave way to a blinding rage that coursed through her body. “You already knew this—and you didn’t tell me?” She fumbled for the door handle without really thinking. She had to get out of here, but then she remembered that if she bailed, she’d be bailing on Bear, too. Damn it.

  “I don’t know anything—nothing that can be proven,” he hurried to add, reaching for her. She shrank back in horror. “It’s just a guess. I was going to wait to talk to you about this until after I had the test results from today—those will tell us if I’m right or if I’m wrong. It could be something else.” His voice changed from the all-business tone to one that was decidedly more pleading. “I was going to tell you, but I didn’t want to worry you with a worst-case scenario without proof. I could still be wrong. I wanted to make sure I was right.” He looked over his shoulder at his son. “I don’t want to be, Tanya. I want to be wrong. I don’t want you to worry. That’s all.”

  “What if you’re right? This is for your case, Nick!” Her voice had gotten louder because Nick winced and checked on Bear again. “This is your case,” she repeated in a whisper. “What does that mean for me? For us?” She had seen some of those lawyer shows. She was pretty sure that lawyers couldn’t sleep with their clients. Would he pick his big case over her?

  Then another, bigger fear smacked her upside the head. “You’re going to use Bear as evidence and…” The and there was huge. And she was going to have to testify. Bear couldn’t talk. She would have to do it for him.

  She’d have to be on the stand. Which meant the Midwest Energy lawyers—because she knew anything with the name Midwest Energy had to have lawyers, lots of them—would cross-examine her.

  They would make sure everyone knew she was a terrible mother.

  “You cannot use our son as evidence.” Because if Bear wasn’t evidence, Tanya wouldn’t have to testify. “You leave him out of this.”

  He looked like she’d stabbed him in the shoulder with a plastic fork. He was the one who’d been holding out on her. He had no right to look so wounded.

  “Tanya, I have to. This case is important—not just for me,” he added sharply. “It’s important for the tribe. For the land—your land. I have to use Bear’s records as evidence.”

  Oh, he was going to pull the whole this-land-is-your-land crap? To hell with that. “No, you don’t. If it’s the water, there’s got to be other people you can use. Not me. Not Bear.”

  He sighed, a sound that was patience teetering on the edge of a high ledge. “Emily Mankiller was going to talk to you about that—after we got this thing with Bear squared away. You’re right. It’s not just your mom and Bear. We were going to ask you to compile a list of other people with unusual symptoms that could be traced back to the contamination. She said you’re the best person to do it, and I believe her.”

  The compliment helped. She shouldn’t let herself be swayed by simple flattery, but hey, when the boss said nice things, it never hurt. She took a deep breath, trying to force some of the air back into her lungs. “Sure. Great. Just don’t use Bear, Nick. I…I couldn’t handle it. Mom will do it.” She hoped. But it was one thing for a grown woman who had been feeling bad to testify under oath that she hadn’t been able to afford medical care. It was quite another to be the woman who hadn’t gotten her kid to the doctor. “Don’t make me.” That last bit came out sounding more scared than she wanted it to.

  He looked at her—not the worried father, not the man who’d held her close just last night. No, Nick Longhair the lawyer looked at her long and hard. Something cold flickered in his eyes, and it made Tanya feel trapped in the truck. But then it softened. “You’ll find me more cases I can tie to the pollution?”

  Anything to keep from having her reputation smeared for the rest of her life. “Absolutely.”

  Nick slipped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her in close. “You focus on Bear for now.” He kissed her then. She leaned into him, feeling his strong chest, his equally strong arms. He wasn’t just here—he was here for her.

  For the first time, he was here when she needed him. With him by her side, she could face blood draws and CT scans. As long as he was with her, she could face whatever diagnosis all these tests pointed to.

  As long as he was here. She just had no idea how long that would be.

  * * *

  By the time the CT scan was finished, it was almost four. While they waited for someone to come get them, Nick called Councilwoman Mankiller to explain that neither he nor Tanya would be back in the office today. Then, as Tanya listened in a state of shock, Nick told her boss that she wouldn’t be in tomorrow either.

  As soon as he hung up or clicked off or whatever people did with those slick cell phones that didn’t even have buttons, Tanya was all over him. “I’m what now?”

  “You’re not going to work tomorrow.”

  He said it in such a matter-of-fact way that Tanya had to wonder if she’d forgotten some conversation they’d had. “Is that so?”

  He nodded. “I’m taking you both back to my place tonight.”

  “Is that so.” First, he knew about pollution, now he was calling her in sick. When had she lost control? More important, when had Nick decided to take it?

  She glared at him. And the irritating thing was, it took him a moment to notice. “What?”

  “I have a job. I have bills to pay.” I have my own life, she wanted to add.

  Then Nick did something even more irritating: he grinned at her. Sure, he looked a little tired—they’d been in this particular waiting room for several hours now—but he still managed to appear deeply amused. “And I swear to God, if you say, ‘No one in Chicago talks like you,’ I’m going to smack that smile right off your face.”

  He bit his lip. He was actively almost laughing at her. The most irritating thing of all was how good he looked doing it—not that Nick looked adorable, but if he did, this was it. “First off,” he began when he appeared to have himself back under control, “you’re going to be exhausted tomorrow.”

  “But—”

  “Second,” he went on, “Bear is going to come out of anesthesia at any moment, and he’s probably going to be a wreck.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Because,” he cut her off again, “he’s probably going to be dealing with the anesthesia effects for a day or so, and I don’t think your mother is capable of handling him if she’s not feeling well.”

  “Well—”

  “And we’d already agreed that you were going to spend the weekend with me, so this makes the most sense. I have a couple of movies I picked out for Bear to watch. I thought he’d like Dumbo.”

  “You do? You did?” That had always been something she’d dreamed of having—a TV. Some days, a girl just wanted to curl up on the couch and watch a cartoon. “But I didn’t pack anything…”

  “I grabbed a few things for you when you were buckling Bear in. And I have plenty of stuff for Bear at my place. I’ll leave you the truck in case you need to pick up anything.”

  Tanya was pretty sure a high-powered lawyer had just talked circles around her because she was awfully damn dizzy. “And you were going to tell me all this…when?”

  He opened his mouth, ready with the smooth reply, but at that moment, a nurse came through the doors and called their names.

  “Babies are often upset when the sedation wears off. This is a normal reaction,” was all Tanya heard before she saw her son in the arms of another nurse. His mouth was open, tears streaming down his face, his body rigid.

  Normal? Whatever argument she’d been losing with Nick was forgotten as they rushed to their son. Tanya didn’t care where she slept or if her clothes were the same ones she’d had on yesterday or how many circles Nick could talk around her. All she cared about was doing whatever she could to make sure her baby was okay.

  In his own domineering way, she was pretty sure that was what Nick cared about, too.

  Eleven


  “This way,” Nick said as he led Tanya up the stairs. He turned on the hall light and waited for her to catch up. Bear was fast asleep in her arms, and she looked exhausted.

  Hell, he was beat. More than beat. He hadn’t expected how hard it would be for him to keep some sort of professional objectivity toward today’s procedures. In theory, he needed to keep his case near the forefront of his mind. But when faced with the reality of a baby having a “normal” reaction to drugs and a mother who broke down in tears because she couldn’t calm that baby down—well, anyone human would have to admit that today had been a highly personal kind of day.

  “This is Bear’s room.” He turned on the bedside lamp instead of the ceiling light so he wouldn’t wake the boy up.

  “Oh…um…” Tanya blinked in what was essentially wordless shock. “A car?”

  Nick gave her a tired smile. The bed had come in a few days ago. He’d gone with the race-car bed because it had higher sides—all the better to keep the little tyke from rolling out, the salesman had said. But yeah, he probably should have warned Tanya about the Corvette with a mattress in the middle. “It was on sale,” he offered, hoping that would help. He pulled the sheet back and waited for Tanya to lay Bear down.

  She didn’t. Instead, she looked like she was hugging Bear extra-hard. “Tanya?”

  “It’s just…he was so upset today, and—and—” Her voice broke on the end.

  It hurt a part of Nick that he hadn’t even realized existed. “And?”

  “And he’s never slept by himself before. He’s never been apart from me.” She said this last like she was ashamed of it. Like Nick would be ashamed of her for it. “What if he wakes up because of the drugs and stuff from today? What if he has another bad reaction and he needs me and I’m not here for him? I’m not a bad mother.”

  What? Who was accusing her of being a bad mom? But before Nick could make any sense of that last statement, she turned a teary set of eyes to him. Then defiance flashed in them. “You said I could sleep wherever I wanted. I should stay in here with him. Just for tonight.”

  This was the sort of argument that was hard to lose and harder to win. He loved Bear, he really did. But he didn’t want the boy in his bed. He wanted to keep that place special, just for him and Tanya. Luckily, Nick had an ace up his sleeve. Thank God for pushy salesmen, he thought. “He’ll be fine, babe. The doctor said he’d sleep it off, remember?”

  “But what if—”

  “I have a video monitor. See?” He turned on the small camera next to the lamp. “The screen is next to my bed. You can roll over and see him anytime.”

  “Really?” She didn’t say it like she didn’t believe him; she said it like she’d never even heard of a video monitor before.

  “Really.” He made sure to keep his voice gentle. It was late, and they were all tired, and the last thing he wanted was to cross some nearly invisible line that would have her digging in her heels. “Here.” He held out his arms to her, and after another squeeze, she handed Bear off to him.

  Nick did a better job of laying his son down this time. Bear’s eyes fluttered, then he rolled over and stuck his thumb in his mouth. “See?” Nick whispered as he flipped off the light. “He’ll be fine.”

  Tanya nodded, but she didn’t look like she entirely believed him. However, she let him take her hand and lead her out of the room and across the hall to the master suite. “The bathroom is over there, and it’s got all the things you’ll need,” he said as he handed her the bag of her clothes he’d grabbed.

  She looked at him and blinked a couple of times. She looked like she was already asleep except she didn’t know it yet. “Nick.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m going to let this ride right now, but later, we’re going to have a discussion about what and when you tell me stuff, like pollution that might be hurting our son and packing my clothes for an overnight visit without my knowledge.”

  An unfamiliar tinge of guilt washed over him. Not so much for springing the overnight stay—well, maybe just a little—but because when they did have that “discussion,” he knew he’d agree to make all decisions with her instead of for her, and he knew that if Bear’s tests were positive, he’d still need him as his first, best piece of evidence. Juries loved kids, especially kids as cute and innocent as Bear.

  Nick was sure that given time to get used to the idea, Tanya would come around to understanding how important this would be for the tribe. That was the Tanya he knew—the one who fought for their people’s land, the one who refused to leave it. She’d just had a bad day—they all had. In the morning, or in a few days, she’d see his side.

  But he wouldn’t convince her tonight. So he changed the subject. “There’s the monitor. I’ll turn it on.”

  Tanya sighed a little too loudly, but true to her word, she let it ride.

  They took turns in the bathroom, then climbed into bed. It was only 9:15 p.m., but it felt like it was three in the morning. As far as he could remember, this was the first time he’d slept all night in a bed with Tanya. For some reason, he felt sentimental as he pulled her back into his arms. She lay on her side, watching the monitor that was less than a foot from the bed.

  He expected to fall asleep in seconds, but he didn’t. Her back and bottom were warm against his front, and with every breath, her chest rose under his hands. It wasn’t a sexual kind of touching, but something more. He knew she’d be here all weekend, but still, he wanted to hold on to this moment of intimacy.

  Her breathing had been regular for some time—five, maybe ten minutes—and he thought she’d nodded off. Bear hadn’t moved on the monitor either. The house felt asleep. But then she asked, “Nick?”

  “Yeah?”

  She was quiet for a moment, but then she said, “I’ve been thinking about something you said—that you didn’t bail on me.”

  Was this going to turn into another push back? Nick swallowed, trying to figure out the best way to reply, but she went on. “I don’t think that—not that exactly.”

  “What did you think?”

  “I thought…” Her voice was so quiet that he had to lean forward to catch the rest of her words. “I thought I wasn’t enough for you. I wasn’t enough to make you want to stay.”

  “No.” That word flew out of his mouth so fast that she jumped in his arms. He forced himself to take a deep breath. This wasn’t an argument. She was being honest. The least he could do was return the favor. He tightened his grip on her. “That’s not why I left.”

  She laced her fingers with his. “Then why? Why did you go, and why didn’t you come back? I waited for you.”

  Thirteen years of waiting. Thirteen years of thinking that she wasn’t good enough for him, when it had always been the other way around.

  He leaned forward and kissed her neck. “You know why I never asked you to come visit me when I went off to college?”

  “No.” He could hear the hurt in her voice. It was faint, but still there after all these years.

  Damn it, he’d messed up so badly. He had to marvel that she still managed to love him. “I lived in my car.”

  She let out a little gasp. “What?”

  “I was homeless. It wasn’t all bad,” he hurried to add. “I mean, I spent a lot of time in the library—that’s why I got such good grades. I showered at the gym. I crashed on a lot of couches. But I didn’t have my own place. I lived out of my car.”

  In some respects, it had been humiliation on top of humiliation. Like the time the library janitor had called the campus police after finding him sleeping on a couch he’d pulled back behind a stack, or the time the local cops had arrested him for loitering when he’d parked in the Super Mart lot to sleep for one night. He couldn’t have let Tanya see him living like that.

  But the thing was, no matter how humiliating it had been, he’d always been warmer and cleaner and better fed than he had been living with his mother growing up. Even living in his car had been a drastic improvement over living in the bu
rned-out camper with cardboard for windows.

  “I had no idea.” She sounded like she might start crying.

  “No one did.” No way in hell he would go around announcing his craptacular living arrangements. But he didn’t want her to be upset. “It got better when I went to law school—I got some grants for being a minority, so I had enough cash for an apartment. But not a good one, you know? I wound up finding this guy who seemed just as poor as I was—a true starving artist. We shared this studio apartment, one couch on each side of the wall.”

  It had been a hellhole, no other word for it. Half a dozen locks on the door, cockroaches in the sink. It hadn’t been exactly warm in the winter, but warm enough. The plumbing functioned and the stove worked.

  “Seemed?”

  “Yeah. Arthur the artist. We weren’t so much friends as cohorts in suffering. He wanted to be a painter, so he spent all his money on supplies.”

  “Seemed,” she said again, more to herself than to him. “So, I guess that’s my other question—how did you go from sleeping on a couch to being this huge lawyer? I mean, I’m not saying you didn’t earn it, and I’m not saying I didn’t think you couldn’t do it, but I never understood how it actually happened. No one on the rez knows. You just became this big shot, like by magic.”

  He smiled, even though she couldn’t see it. “It felt a little bit like magic—I was in the right place at the right time. What happened was, my second year of law school, Arthur the artist told me he had to go to this family party. He made it sound like it was going to be this hugely boring thing, but he said, ‘There’ll be a ton of food, if you want to come.’ And I wasn’t about to pass up a free meal.”