by Robyn Carr
“Did your father ever ask you if you were drunk?”
Clay shook his head. “He knew that if alcohol was a problem for me, it wouldn’t be long before he’d see it again. And again. And again.” He smiled. “He didn’t.”
“Did you have problems like that a lot? Because of being Navajo?”
“No,” he said. “Fascination. Curiosity. People ask questions cautiously, as if they’re afraid to offend me. I always answer and invite them to visit the reservation.” He smoothed her hair over an ear. “Have you ever had any problems?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I would give anything to see all those big, stern Navajos bearing down on the police. Or the parents of your girlfriend. I bet when people remember those events, they imagine the Navajos wearing buckskin and feathers.”
“They fully intend to appear as a tribe. There is pride in the tribe. I grew up hearing that. It’s in their eyes….”
“It’s in your eyes,” she said softly.
He looked surprised for a second. Then he relaxed into a smile. “I don’t mean any offense, but it’s not in your eyes, my blue-eyed girl. Tell me your secrets. Tell me when you were most afraid.”
She inhaled deeply and rolled on top of him. “I will, but not right now. Right now I want to thank you. I had a very bad romance when I was young and it left me scarred and broken. I’ll tell you all about it some other time, but tonight I want to make love and then sleep on your hair, pulling it when I move in my sleep and making you whimper and grunt.” She laughed and ran her fingers into the hair at his temples.
“Why must you do that?” he asked. “I could braid it and we could both sleep.”
“I love your hair. I love it free. That’s how I see you when I dream about you.”
“And…why exactly are you thanking me?”
She gave him a little kiss. “I wasn’t sure I would ever trust a man again. I stayed far away from men. I buried myself in work and school. I wasn’t going to take any chances. But then you came along and…” She shrugged and smoothed a hand over his bronze, hairless chest. “Maybe I’m just a naive fool, but I believe everything you tell me. I trust everything you say.”
“Then trust this, sweetheart. Ayor’anosh’ni. I think I’m in love with you.”
“I think you’ve been in love a hundred times before…”
“No. No, that’s not true. I thought I was in love a couple of times, but it was such a struggle—there were so many barriers. This time, this is as it should be—easy. Free. Pleasant and comfortable.” Then one side of his mouth lifted in a sexy grin. “Hot, wild, crazy and amazing, too.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “This time is different for me, Lilly. Is it different for you?”
“It is,” she whispered back. “It is.”
And then they felt a slight, brief vibration beneath them, from under the bed; there was a definite disturbance in the stable. “Earthquake,” Clay whispered. “A small earthquake.”
“We haven’t had an earthquake since I’ve lived here,” she said.
He rolled her off him and sat up. “Oh, that’s what it was. I experienced quite a few in Los Angeles. Don’t move. Don’t dress. I’m going to check on the animals, then I’m going to come back here and rock your world for real.”
Colin Riordan had many visitors while he was hospitalized—three of his brothers plus several phone calls from his fourth brother, Patrick, who was sitting alert on an aircraft carrier. His three-month deployment was winding to a close and he promised to visit Colin at Fort Benning as soon as he was stateside. Maureen and George had parked their fancy motorcoach at an RV park near Fort Hood and were at the hospital every day. Other visitors included men from his unit who had been with him on exercises. At first they came because they were still at Fort Hood, and then a couple of them caught military hops from Fort Benning.
Sean was the first to leave Fort Hood and head back to Maxwell AFB after a few days; Aiden was second to leave, returning to Chico to meet with a group of physicians whose ob-gyn practice he was considering joining. Luke stayed on until the arrangements to send Colin back to Fort Benning were nearly complete. One of Colin’s buddies was going to accompany him on a commercial flight out of Houston, see that he was settled in the Wounded Warriors Resource Center where his full-time job for the Army, for now, was getting well. Maureen and George had plans to follow in the RV and park there for a couple of weeks, until Maureen had peace of mind that Colin was on the mend and didn’t need his mother for anything.
But Colin, in pain and bored out of his skull, wasn’t exactly the best company. He was also struggling with some stress about his future, because although he should be able to heal and get back in the cockpit, the idea of everything being different from now on was doing a number on his head.
“Can’t you talk Mom out of going to Fort Benning?” Colin asked Luke.
“I doubt it, buddy. Why don’t you relax and take advantage of it? You know she’ll do anything she can for you—ask her to bring you stuff from home, run errands, do laundry, anything you need.”
“I need to be left alone,” he said.
“Well, I’m sure after two weeks of your charming personality, you’ll get that.”
But when Luke called home that night, he discovered he’d have to cut his own stay in Fort Hood short.
“We had a little excitement today,” Shelby said over the phone. “An earthquake!”
“Are you kidding me?” Luke nearly roared.
“Just a very little one, off the coast in the Pacific, but we all felt it. It was kind of cool.”
“Cool?”
“There wasn’t any damage reported anywhere,” she assured him.
“Were you alone? You and Art and the baby?”
“Uncle Walt had just left for the day and Art was still at the river even though it was almost dark.”
“Was Art upset? Scared?”
“Just the opposite,” Shelby said. “He said some fish jumped out of the river—more than he’s ever seen jump at once. I’ve always heard that animals get all revved up when there’s an earthquake or even when one’s coming.”
“All right,” Luke said. “Things are handled here. My mother is here and arrangements have been made to get Colin home. I’ll be on the next plane.”
“Luke, I miss you, but everything is fine! It wasn’t a scary earthquake or anything. I’ve had plenty of company, plenty of help, and I don’t want you to leave Colin until you’re sure it’s time.”
“It’s time—I don’t want you and my son left as the responsibility of someone else. Colin’s got a lot of work to do to rehab his body and he’s a giant pain in the ass. It’s time for him to be someone else’s pain in the ass. I’ll be home as fast as I can get there.”
“Well, whatever makes you happy—but be sure to tell Colin that I haven’t called you home! Because I’m no wimp and I’m doing just fine.”
Luke did tell Colin that, and Colin said, “Good—go home. And did I thank you for coming?”
“No,” Luke said.
“Well, thank you for coming,” Colin said. “And please don’t come again until you’re invited.”
“I guess you didn’t get that gracious Irish gene,” Luke said. “I’ll call.”
“Be sure to leave a message if I don’t pick up. I hear they have a great soccer team at the Wounded Warriors hotel….”
Lilly wanted to tell Clay a few things—like the fact that she had done very, very little dating, that there hadn’t been a serious relationship with a man in her life in fourteen years, that there were things that haunted her and had kept her from forming a strong, healthy relationship with a good man. And she planned to. She knew there would be a perfect moment and when she found it, she wouldn’t hold anything back. It was easy to put off; she was enjoying the finest time of her life and just couldn’t let a negative thought or memory interfere.
It was fall; the weather was cooling and the colors emerging. Lilly and Annie took six eleven-year-
old girls on an overnight trail ride before the first real freeze. Nathaniel wanted to go with them or at least send Clay along, but Annie and Lilly had agreed, that was not the message they wanted to send their troop. Annie was very good with a rifle if there was any wildlife threat, and they had planned a ride only into the foothills, so they would never even be at a high enough elevation to contend with any freezing weather.
Both women appreciated the concern their men showed, but Nate and Clay didn’t push too hard. They trusted their competence, while still waiting anxiously to welcome the riders home.
The trail ride was one hundred percent successful; the little girls returned to their parents wild with excitement, all gamy and rosy cheeked, happy and feeling self-reliant.
A few days later Lilly took Yaz to the Toopeek house for one of those big family meals. It was no surprise that Yaz and Lincoln gravitated toward each other. Tom Toopeek, ever the politician, seated one elder at each end of the long oak table. They both started out stern and cautiously observant, but before long they were laughing with the family, making jokes at the expense of Lilly and Clay. And when dinner was done, the old men went outside, where Lincoln liked to enjoy a small fire. It was one of his old traditions and even though there were very strict burning laws in the mountains, Lincoln’s fire was safe from prosecution because the police chief’s father had a Get Out Of Jail Free card.
Inside the house, the women cleaned up—a tradition Lilly hoped to change if she ever had a family. The men and kids played Scrabble noisily. It seemed as though Gabe and eighteen-year-old Johnny Toopeek were beating their fathers.
Lilly hadn’t ever allowed herself to fantasize about what it would be like to have a lover, a partner, a family. She had always considered it practical to stay away from romance; after all, she had Dane and she’d been happy. Now there was love and family all around her—at the Jensen clinic, at the Toopeek household, in Clay’s sturdy arms. She enjoyed a kind of contentment that was fresh and new. On the days she delivered feed to the clinic she made sure it was her last delivery of the afternoon and she would stay long enough for a ride, often with Clay if he didn’t have other work-related duties. Even if she went riding alone, the joy of it was sheer bliss.
On days she didn’t deliver, she was often at the stable for at least a couple of hours. She frequently had dinner with Clay—either at her house or out. There was the occasional dinner with Annie and Nathaniel, sometimes at the Toopeek house, and she’d finally brought Clay to her grandfather’s house for their Sunday meal together.
Clay took her to Jack’s Bar, where just about the only vegetarian dishes were pie and coffee. Although the big, scary-looking cook scowled, he could be talked into serving her something that hadn’t been simmered in the juices of animals. And then with his heavy dark eyebrows furrowed, he said, “I’m going to make up some mac and cheese—three cheeses—and before I add the ham and bacon, I’ll put some aside in the freezer, in case you ever come back.”
The best part of her life was that time she spent in her lover’s arms. He was so right—their bodies together made music. And then in the still of the night or early morning, they would hold on to each other and whisper. Clay said to her, “You’d better never leave me, because I’m sure I’ll never be able to stop loving you. I’ll love you forever, Lilly.”
It had only been a couple of months since they’d met and a couple of weeks since he’d told her he was in love with her. A matter of days since he’d said he’d love her forever… And it was a bright, crisp, clear and sunny afternoon in mid-October when it all fell apart.
Clay was in the veterinary office, doing some online charting Nate had left for him when he heard the growl of a diesel engine. They weren’t expecting a patient, and Nate had gone to Mendocino County to check on a pregnant mare who’d previously had a couple of stillbirths. Clay pushed back from the desk and looked out the window. There, in the large parking expanse between the house and clinic was a late-model pickup with dual rear wheels pulling a custom horse trailer. And he knew whose it was.
He stepped out of the office just as Isabel shut off the engine and jumped down from the cab of the truck.
She looked lovely, as always. She beamed when she saw him—all smiles and pleasure. She had what appeared to be a healthy tan, but Clay knew it was from her expensive, custom-formulated tanning cream—Isabel was afraid of aging, and would never surrender her skin to the sun’s rays. Her ideal shade of blond also cost a fortune. In fact, everything from her perfect body to the clothes on it was very expensive, very chic. But the effect was breathtaking to just about anyone, and very few people knew how much time and money she threw at it. Her ex-husband, of course, was privy to this information.
She came toward him, reaching for him. “Clay,” she said, smiling warmly. “Oh, Clay!”
He returned the gesture, giving her a hug and exchanging cheek kisses. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I have a problem—with one of your favorite horses,” she said, but she didn’t let go of him. “It’s Isa Diamond Two. She’s got a slight limp. The vet’s seen her, we’ve done X-rays and ultrasounds and can’t find a problem, but her gait is off—unpredictable and uneven.”
“You could have called me,” he said.
“But I knew you couldn’t come to me, not with your new responsibilities. And I needed a getaway. Besides,” she said with a laugh, giving her silky, shoulder-length blond hair a toss, “I wanted to see where you are now.” She craned her neck to look around. “I have to admit, beautiful country.”
“But you should have at least told me you were coming.”
“Hey, listen, if you and your vet are too busy, I’ll wait. I have excellent accommodations,” she added, throwing an arm wide to indicate the horse trailer. He’d been in this one plenty of times—the rear was outfitted with two enclosed, padded stalls while the front section had upscale living quarters with full kitchen, bath, king-size bed, leather couch, small table and plenty of electronic equipment. Nothing but the best for the Sorensons. Actually, they only used their custom trailers for relatively short hauls—Frederik Sorenson had private jets to transport his horses to races. The money in the Sorenson family was nothing short of astonishing.
The horse in her trailer was a famous, prizewinning quarter horse, a blond bay with one white stocking, a white mane and a blaze. She was not only a beauty, but skilled and accomplished. And she had lent her eggs to more prizewinners, mated in a petri dish and carried by a surrogate to save her body from the strain. Diamond was only eight years old and could yet win quarter-mile races. If she wasn’t lame.
“Let’s bring her in,” Clay said, pulling out of Isabel’s grasp and going to the back of the trailer. “Nathaniel is on a call, but he should be back before long.”
“Thank you,” she said with her customary grace. “I knew you’d help.”
“And I know there’s more going on than the horse,” he answered without looking at her. “You came unexpectedly for a reason….”
“You’ve never required notice before,” she said. “All I ever had to do was ask.”
“True. That was before,” he said.
He opened up the back of the trailer, put the harness and lead on the horse and expertly backed her out. He talked softly to her and she responded with familiar friendly nickering. Isabel was right about this much—he loved the horse. And the horse loved him. As he led Diamond into the stable, Isabel followed at a distance, giving him charge. Part of her charm was knowing when to step back and let a man take over. No doubt she learned that technique from a father who demanded it and praised it, and it worked.
It had stopped working when her vulnerability and weakness took over. A man would naturally want to protect her and take care of her, until that job became so overwhelming it was suffocating.
Isabel was ten years older than Clay, but she looked ageless. She had been thirty-eight when they’d met, forty when they’d married, and although she’d never been marrie
d before, she had a long history of very bad relationships with men. Cheating men, abusive men, greedy men. And who could blame her for falling for them? That was the man her father was and women so often marry the male role model they worship, and she did worship Frederik. On another level, she hated him, but that had taken a long time for Clay to understand.
The first few times Clay had encountered Isabel, she’d just triumphed in horse shows and she was radiant. Then one time she’d lost, and he’d found her broken and despondent, not from the loss so much as her father’s abusive disappointment. Frederik was a demanding, egotistical ass. His wife had left him when Isabel was small and he’d never treated his daughter with an ounce of gentleness. He’d tried to train her into a tough horsewoman. When she won, he lifted his chin and walked away as if she’d simply done as he expected; when she lost, he berated her as though she was a complete failure. She craved her father’s attention and approval, but it was hard for her to get both simultaneously with one accomplishment. Any attention he showed her was negative; his approval was too rare.
Because of the way Clay was raised, because of the way Tahoma men regarded the women in their lives, this injustice purely broke Clay’s heart.
