by Natalie Ann
Julie picked up the tray on which she’d placed two bottles of beer and two mugs that had spent the past couple of hours frosting in the freezer, and then she went out onto the small back porch where Mat waited.
“Here we go.” She’d offered him his choice of apple pie or a cold beer after their meal. Apparently, tonight thirst took precedence over his sweet tooth.
“Thanks again, Julie,” he said, satisfaction in his tone as he absently rubbed his flattened palm over his abdomen. “Dinner was delicious.”
She accepted the compliment with a smile as she opened first one beer, then the other, and poured them into the mugs. She handed one to him.
Their eyes met. Desire hummed almost audibly. She could sense it. Feel it all the way down to her toes. And she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he must feel it too.
The craving that tempted them had been evident since he’d arrived. Not to mention all through dinner. She sat down in the creaky old rocker on the porch and took a draw of the cold, yeasty foam.
“It’s so quiet here,” she said, stopping long enough to lick traces of froth from her upper lip. “I’ve come to love the quiet.”
A stillness settled over them. A tranquil silence. She felt so serene being with him here tonight that she felt she could say anything and it would be okay. So she did.
“You know,” she began, “I like knowing that you’re willing to really live your convictions.”
His dark gaze cut toward her, but he said nothing.
“I’m serious,” she assured him. “I know what it’s like. I understand how difficult it can be to do something purely on principle. It wasn’t easy fighting my stepfather for custody of Brian.”
He seemed to relax now that the subject had veered slightly off of him.
Julie stared at the horizon. “To this day, Robert has never admitted to having a problem. He beat Brian black and blue more times than anyone will probably ever know, but he refused to believe that his actions were wrong. To the very end, he tried to convince the judge that a man has a right to discipline his son in any way he chooses.”
She sighed. “If he’d owned up to what he did, maybe my brother wouldn’t have spent so many years thinking he deserved the treatment that was doled out to him.”
Anger rose up in her like an unexpected squall, lashing her with furious winds and bitter rains. She murmured, “I wish the state had prosecuted the bastard.”
Mat spoke for the first time. “You got Brian away from an awful situation. That’s the important thing, isn’t it?”
Feeling his eyes on her, she swung her gaze to his.
“Know this, Julie,” he said softly, “no one gets away with anything. There is an ancient Kolheek saying—if a man plants corn, he will eat in abundance. If he plants weeds, he will choke and starve when winter comes. Your stepfather has spent his life planting weeds.”
For some reason, this idea calmed her. Soothed her anger. Many cultures believe in karma, she thought. Kismet. That one’s destiny relies heavily on one’s behavior. Making the right choices. Acting with the best intention. Treating others with fairness, with kindness, with love. And those who didn’t ultimately had to pay for their ill deeds.
The idea of a higher judgment appealed to Julie. She liked to think that someone or something bigger, an omnipotent being, would take care of exacting vengeance. Requiring penance. Settling scores. This notion left her free to focus on her own behavior, her own intentions, her own choices.
After a moment she asked, “What makes a woman choose, not one, but two life partners who are mean-spirited bullies?”
It only took Mat a moment to figure out the direction of her query. “You’re speaking of your mother.”
She nodded silently in the twilight. “After witnessing what Mom went through over the years, after learning from her about a woman’s lot in life, I’d decided to avoid men. To avoid man-woman relationships—dating, marriage, all of that.” She was aware of the mellifluous quality in her tone when she added, “Until I met you.”
“Julie...” He seemed to squirm as he straightened in the old wooden rocker.
Talking about the two of them wasn’t at all what she’d planned to do. She’d honestly meant to honor Mat’s wish, even though she knew that her own feelings and desires were in direct contradiction to his. However, there was something deep inside that needed release. She didn’t intend to be pushy. She only wanted to speak her mind. And something bone-deep, no, heart-deep urged her to do just that.
“Mat, I understand how you feel… about us,” she told him. “I really do. But I have to tell you, I think there are a few little holes in your logic.”
He set his half-empty beer mug on the wide porch railing and scrubbed a hand over his jaw. Clearly, he didn’t want to go into this. But she’d started it. She needed to finish it.
“You don’t want to get involved in a relationship,” she continued, “because you’re afraid that you could die. Well—” she shrugged “—any one of us could die unexpectedly. I mean, I could step off a curb and get hit by a bus.”
The muscle spanning his forehead tightened creating tiny creases in his sun-burnished skin. “Public buses don’t run on the rez.”
She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. Don’t pretend you don’t. I could cross the street at the wrong time and get run over by a car. A pickup truck. An SUV. Whatever. The point I’m trying to make is, none of us know when we’re going to leave this world. None of us.”
Mat felt as if every tendon and muscle in his body was as tense as a coiled spring. Arguing about his motive for remaining single and unattached was the last thing he wanted to do.
Then he saw it. The unspoken question in her eyes. She was probing the possibility of a future for them.
Surprisingly his chest filled with pride and a joy that was unimaginable. A man would have to be dumb as dirt and made of stone not to feel uplifted by the notion that a woman like Julie wanted him.
She was a beautiful woman. An intelligent woman. She fulfilled his every need. He loved her smile. He loved her laugh. He loved her quick wit. He loved the way she looked at him. He loved her lips. Her kiss. Her touch. Her…
His eyes went wide and he shook his head to rid his mind of the thoughts rolling and churning and teasing him with what he could so easily have—if he were to but reach out and seize them. She was right there. Well within his grasp.
“Look, Julie,” he said, disliking the harshness of his tone, yet unable to quell it, “I realize what you’re saying. You’re right. None of us can know when we’ll go meet the Great One. But my fear is that my job as a police officer puts me into positions that…”
Images floated into his brain, images that were so distressing to him that the rest of his sentence simply disappeared into oblivion.
Sobbing women dressed in black. Men broken by heartache. Innocent, grief-stricken children who would never know their parents. Then he thought about the icy terror that had frozen his blood when he felt the cold steel of that knife make contact with his flesh.
He would never make her understand his feelings. Never. His voice was tight as he said, “I think I should go.”
Julie evidently had other plans. “I have one more thing to ask, and then I’ll leave this alone.”
The resolve in her eyes told him he wouldn’t get away without hearing what she had to say, so he simply watched her lovely face and waited.
“What about Grace?”
Her chin had tipped up challengingly as the question rolled from her lips.
“You can’t hold her at bay. You can’t shield yourself from a relationship with her.”
There was clear accusation in Julie’s words that conveyed this woman knew he had deep feelings for her and that he was refusing to surrender to the emotions he felt.
Well, that was true. It really was. But it didn’t change his determination one iota.
“The fact that Grace is in my life—that she’d be left all alone if somethi
ng were to happen to me—is a real worry, Julie. A real worry.” He paused, then forced himself to look her directly in the eye as he firmly added, “I choose not to add to the worry I already have.”
***
I choose not to add to the worry I already have.
Those words haunted her for days. Julie knew Mat believed that having her in his life in any way other than merely as a casual friend—acknowledging what he felt for her—would be adding to his concern. He was making a conscious effort not to do that.
She reached down and yanked up a weed, root and all, from the small flower bed by the front door. Hearing the familiar clink of the chain on Brian’s bicycle, she looked up and saw him peddling down the narrow street toward her.
Since the sessions at Grayson’s had started, Grace had taken to following Brian around like a puppy. Grace had arrived over an hour ago to ask Brian to teach her to dribble a basketball. They’d practiced for a while and then he’d taken her home.
“You didn’t leave her at her house alone, did you?” she asked Brian when he hopped off the bike and shoved down the kickstand.
“Mat was there,” he assured her. “He asked me in for a glass of iced tea. That’s why I was gone so long.”
There was apology in her brother’s voice, an explanation for why he hadn’t returned home immediately as he’d told her he would.
Julie smiled, wanting to let him know that all was okay. She tossed the weed on top of the pile of the others she’d picked, marveling at the change in Brian. The time he’d spent with Mat and with Grayson had made an amazing difference in her brother’s attitude, in his whole way of thinking.
“It’s awfully nice of you to spend so much time with Grace,” she said softly. “You don’t have to, you know.”
Brian shrugged. “I don’t mind. It’s almost like having a kid sister.” Then he grinned. “I sorta like how she looks up to me.”
Had it really been just a few weeks ago that he’d spoken to her so hatefully? That he’d acted so rebelliously? The miraculous change in him reminded her of an ugly caterpillar metamorphosing into a beautiful butterfly. His transformation wasn’t complete, but he was well on his way to becoming an amazing young man.
Remembering Mat’s concern about his daughter’s rough and tumble ways, Julie said, “Maybe the next time she comes over we can get her to do something… different. Like baking cookies, maybe. I wouldn’t mind cleaning up the mess if you two spent some time in the kitchen. Or you could show her how to sew on a button? Or maybe I could pull out my sewing machine and teach her to make an apron?”
Brian chuckled. “I’m sure she’d rather run around playin’ hide-’n’-seek than bake cookies. And I can’t picture her ever wearing an apron, let alone making one.”
Julie grimaced and her brows arching heavenward. “Tell me about it!” She finally broke down and told her brother about Mat’s distress over Grace’s partiality to tomboyish pastimes.
After listening to her, Brian was quiet, evidently pondering. Finally he said, “You know, Julie, plenty of girls aren’t interested in girl stuff. I mean, look at Sally Ride. She was the first woman to go into space. And there was that pilot, Amelia Earhart. She flew planes when women didn’t do those kinds of things. I’m sure there’s lots of girls who have never baked a single cookie yet they do lots of other good stuff.”
He combed his fingers through his wiry red hair. “Girls can do anything, Julie,” he continued. “Grace should be allowed to do the things she likes to do, right? Find her own way. Make her own dreams.” He looked at her. “Right?”
Julie sat back on her heels and just stared. She’d spent all her college years learning that each child was an individual with gifts and talents all his or her own. However, it took her thirteen-year-old brother to remind her. Sometimes a person was too close to a problem to see things clearly.
Finally she shook her head in wonder and smiled. “How did you get so smart?” She grinned at him.
Something glimmered in his eyes—pride, she quickly discerned—and it was a sight to behold. She and Brian shared a warm moment of silence before he trotted up the front steps toward the door, murmuring something about having homework that needed doing.
***
Mat sat behind the steering wheel, waiting for his daughter to come out of Grayson’s house. His grandfather’s meetings with the children and teens of the reservation were more successful than Mat had ever imagined they would be.
Incidences of petty vandalism on the rez had decreased. Store owners complained less of loitering teens. There were more kids participating in activities offered at the Community Center.
Now Mat wasn’t naive enough to think that all the rez’s youth problems could be solved by putting teens in touch with their past, but he did know that giving them a firm anchor into who they were and where they came from was a great beginning. Once kids discovered that their forefathers were honorable and brave and moral, it forced them to take a look at their own lives, ponder what kind of legacy they wanted to leave.
It seemed that Julie’s problem with her rebellious brother had actually helped everyone living at Misty Glen. In attempting to tame Brian’s unruly nature, Mat had luckily latched on to a plan that seemed to be benefiting lots of the local teens and the younger Kolheek children had benefited, as well.
Julie. Her beautiful face swam before his closed eyelids. The sunlight had a way of catching her hair, turning it to coppery flames. Her eyes were green as emeralds, and he’d even gotten close enough on a couple of occasions to know that they were flecked with a warm, golden hue. He remembered her silky skin, her delectable mouth. His body flushed with heat and he felt the need to gulp in the cool night air.
Leaning his head back against the headrest, he opened his eyes wide and sighed heavily. He needed to shove these thoughts out of his head. Battling his hormones, his own selfish desires, was the hardest thing he’d had to face since arriving on the reservation—since meeting one irresistible first-grade teacher named Ms. Julie Dacey.
He thought about their last meeting. How she’d reasoned against the choices he was making—the choices he was forcing on her. It had been obvious that she’d wanted to continue their relationship. Oh, how he’d have loved to take her in his arms right there on the porch. How he’d have loved to kiss her senseless. But that would have been a mistake. Luckily, he’d recognized it then just as clearly as he did now.
He was certain she understood his motives for why they could only be friends. She might not agree with them, but she understood them. That was all that mattered. Well, that and his winning the battle over his own libido. How he wanted her! Just thinking about her had desire pulsing through his veins.
The tiny hairs on the back of his neck rose, and his skin came alive as a shivery chill raced down his arms, over his torso. Awareness. He was alert, body and mind, as he scanned the darkness surrounding the vehicle.
Then he saw her walking down the street toward his grandfather’s home—toward him. She stopped at his grandfather’s front gate, glancing at her wristwatch—a habit, he guessed, because there was no way she could see it in the darkness. Her gaze took in the front of the house, the lights in the windows, lingering on the front door. Evidently she hadn’t seen Mat parked among the half dozen cars on the street.
He should stay away from her. He should remain in the car.
The air was warm for September in New England, he noticed as he opened the door. It felt like satin against his face as he made his way down the short expanse of asphalt. There was something magical dancing all around him, fireworks exploding in the sky overhead that were invisible to everyone’s eyes but his own, and the strange enchantment swirling in the night air had him feeling woozy. Reckless.
This out-of-control feeling filled him with fear—and an indescribable exhilaration.
She saw him before he’d closed the distance between them, and her initial reaction was a smile so bright he’d thought night had turned to day. But th
en her gaze clouded and her mouth flattened.
“Ah, Julie, please don’t look at me like that.”
The ill-at-ease expression on her face sharpened to ire.
“What do you want from me, Mat?”
Her lustrous curls bobbed when she shook her head in seeming confusion. Or was it frustration?
“You know how I feel about you,” she said. “I’ve made things clear. And you’ve made your plan clear as crystal. It isn’t right for you to expect me to… to…” She lifted both hands, palm heavenward. “What is it you expect from me, anyway? To greet you as a buddy? A good ol’ pal? To pretend that you didn’t steal my heart right out of my chest? To act as if—”
When he reached out and smoothed the backs of his fingers down her jaw, it was as if he’d sliced her sentence in two with a razor-sharp hatchet, so quickly did she fall silent. A hot current shot across his flesh, stimulating every nerve ending in his body. Making physical contact with her had been a dreadful mistake, he knew it. But he didn’t give a damn.
Reckless. Rash. Wild.
Those were perfect words to describe what was rushing through him in this instant.
“Why do you have to be so beautiful?” He whispered the query, dragging the pad of his thumb lightly over her full bottom lip. He felt her quiver beneath his touch. “You intrigue me like no woman ever has. Even when you’re angry with me, I want you.”
Her green gaze searched his face. It was obvious that she might have been anticipating many different responses to her angry questions, but this hadn’t been one of them.
Myriad emotions crossed her delicate features. Bewilderment. Uncertainty. Hope.
“D-does this mean you’ve changed your mind?”
Her voice was husky, and so sexy that Mat felt his body physically respond in ways he didn’t dare admit. The expectation in her question was both eager and guarded, and it was nearly his undoing. All he wished for was the taste of her lips, the feel of her beneath his hands.
