Her words reached deep inside Johnny and struck a chord of authenticity. He knew exactly how she felt. Her scent upon his pillow had imprinted upon his brain. She, too, was in every breath he took. Never far from his thoughts, Annie occupied all of his senses.
The only reason he felt at all inclined to argue was for her own good.
“I’ll only let you down,” he said gruffly.
“Like you think you let Michael down?” she asked, repeating the name he had called out repeatedly in his sleep.
“Yes!”
The word exploded from his lips like a bullet and twisted Johnny around hard. Facing Annie directly, he gave her the ugly truth.
“My best friend died because he put his trust in me. Tell me, how does it feel to lie in bed with a man who has his best friend’s blood on his hands?”
Though the self-reproach in his voice scalded like acid, Annie did not draw away in revulsion as he had imagined she would. As if trying to breathe for them both, she filled her lungs with air, and when she spoke again, it was with a calm that belied her racing pulse.
“They don’t give Purple Hearts to men who fail in their duty.”
Annie put a quieting finger to his lips to keep him from interrupting. She silenced him with a tenderness born of deep respect for what he had suffered in the name of patriotism.
“Shhh… You never have to tell me the details if you don’t want to. Just know that any perceived failure on your part has been paid for a million times over in the pain you suffer still—and in the hope you are giving a new generation through Dream Catchers. In case there’s any doubt in your own mind about it, you are the best man I’ve ever had the privilege to know and love, Johnny Lonebear. Michael forgave you long ago. Now it’s time for you to forgive yourself.”
The tears that Johnny swallowed were silent ones that burned the back of his throat and filled his gut with regret. Maybe she was right. Michael himself was the one who had refused help until the last man of his battalion had been rescued first. Johnny knew that if the situation had been reversed, he likely would have done the same thing. It is the duty of the commanding officer to put his men’s lives before his own. The medal Michael had received posthumously could not have gone to a braver man. Had Johnny not been in the hospital recuperating from his wounds, he would have liked to pin his own Purple Heart upon his deceased friend’s uniform on the day of his funeral.
No matter how much sense Annie made, viscerally Johnny couldn’t help but worry that he would ultimately let her down, too. The thought cut like a razor.
“Stay with me, Johnny,” she begged. “Please. For the rest of the night, at least. Preferably for the rest of the summer.”
For the rest of my life…
Though her soul implored her to say the words aloud, her mouth refused to comply. She had said enough for one night. Perhaps for one lifetime. All she could do was offer this good man her heart for a pillow and hope he didn’t leave it too tearstained when he was done with her.
A raging wildfire moved more slowly than gossip did on the reservation. Johnny had barely moved in with Annie before everybody knew about it. The fact that he brought his beloved dog along was indicative of how serious he must be about the she-devil that Ester claimed had bewitched him. The elders lifted eyebrows but publicly said nothing on the matter. Some of the more vocal mothers clucked their disapproval about an authority figure from the school setting a bad example for their children by choosing to live in sin. Most of the men jabbed each other in the ribs and whispered ribald remarks. Several hopeful females were openly jealous that the most eligible bachelor on the reservation had been temporarily taken off the market. That a white woman was the cause of their distress made some of their comments all the more catty.
Johnny was used to rumors swirling about him like poisonous gas. As long as Annie remained by his side, he doubted whether anybody would have the gall to offer an opinion on the subject. Indeed, whenever they attended any of the community functions that Johnny was expected to attend, his guest was always extended polite hospitality. She responded in kind.
In fact, Annie was so unassuming and genuinely respectful of their tribal culture that it truly was hard not to like her. As word of mouth spread the popularity of her stained-glass classes, more than one patron approached members of the school board asking if the courses could be extended into the regular school term. Ester was reduced to glaring at her from a distance at social gatherings.
Annie assumed that whatever Johnny had said to her the night her daughter had run away must have put an end to any open warfare on his sister’s part. Against his advice, she made a point of introducing herself to Ester at a charity auction for a young local who had been diagnosed with a rare blood disease. Annie had just bought an unframed painting that Crimson Dawn had donated to the fund-raiser. It was a magnificent piece of work entitled Hope Rising in which an eagle was depicted spreading its wings upon a breeze that lifted it far above a winding river-carved canyon. Dawn broke upon the horizon in vivid hues of crimson. The symbolism was as unmistakable as the determination gleaming from the young eagle’s eyes.
Annie herself donated a window-size, stained-glass depiction of an Indian paintbrush wildflower, which she had made specially for the occasion. A close personal friend of the sick boy’s family, Ester grudgingly acknowledged the quality of the piece and the generosity of its creator. It brought a fetching price at the auction.
“I’m just glad to help in any way I can,” Annie said, graciously choosing to avoid any discussion of Crimson Dawn or Johnny unless the other woman chose to initiate it.
Checking first to see that Johnny was still positioned clear across the gymnasium floor visiting with some of his buddies, Ester cagily broached the subject herself.
“I do appreciate the part you played in making my daughter come home the other day.”
Though Annie thought the words sounded as if they were lodged crosswise in Ester’s throat, she was nonetheless grateful that Johnny had given his sister the impression that she had been instrumental in encouraging Crimson Dawn to make peace with her mother.
“I doubt anyone can make that girl do anything she doesn’t want to,” she replied with a rueful smile intended to put the other woman at ease.
Ester nodded her head in agreement. “Isn’t that God’s honest truth?”
Glad to let it go at that, Annie eased out of the other woman’s way. It was enough for one day to simply make each other’s acquaintance and establish a polite basis for any future relationship. Annie feared that any further attempt on her part to intervene on Crimson Dawn’s behalf would be akin to stepping between a sow bear and her cub. She had no desire to be torn limb from limb. Having previously been demonized by those she wanted to help, Annie preferred avoiding unnecessary confrontations.
Once again she reminded herself of her limited role as a short-timer here. The thought of leaving weighed heavily on her heart. All the warnings that she had issued to herself about not getting involved in these people’s lives had been for naught. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, Annie was involved right up to her eyelashes.
As much as she enjoyed being included in community functions, she truly cherished the limited time that she was able to spend alone with Johnny. For a man who had lived by himself all of his adult life, he was amazingly good company. He was also an expert on the grill with all kinds of specialties. In her opinion elk steaks were the tastiest of the wild meats that he prepared for her so far. Annie also found that she was partial to venison and pheasant, but she simply couldn’t get rattlesnake past her nose, no matter how much Johnny insisted it tasted like chicken.
He also claimed that fresh trout was excellent broiled on the grill and set out to prove it to her one lazy Saturday. After outfitting her with the appropriate fishing gear from his own personal stockpile, they went down to the nearest bait shop, the Crow’s Nest, where he purchased a reservation fishing license for her. Hoping to save him some money, Annie i
nsisted on a one-day permit only.
“It’s not worth the extra money for a year permit,” she persisted in the face of his generosity. Especially since I won’t be here too much longer…
“You’re worth it,” Johnny countered, kissing her right on the lips in front of Jack Crow, the owner of the establishment, as well as several customers who stared at them unabashedly.
“Maybe he wants to keep you around a little longer,” Jack told her with a knowing wink.
Johnny didn’t bother arguing with him.
“Maybe I do,” he confirmed, kissing her again so thoroughly that there could be little doubt left in anyone’s mind that he meant what he said.
That is, except in Annie’s.
Just because she was enjoying the most phenomenal sex of her life on a daily basis was no reason for her to believe that Johnny was willing to sacrifice his independence to maintain it. It wasn’t as if he had offered her a full-time position at Dream Catchers or even so much as suggested that she look for a more permanent job in the vicinity. He offered nothing more than only mind-bending kisses as an incentive for sticking around beyond the summer term. Annie appreciated the fact that he wasn’t one to string a lady along, and consequently made a determined effort to relish every minute of the remaining time they had together.
The fact that his boat was lashed to the roof of his pickup didn’t dampen Annie’s enthusiasm any. She had never been lake fishing before, and Johnny promised the experience would be one she would never forget. He was right. Smokey, who had accompanied them, clearly was offended by the fact that Annie took his usual spot in the small flat-bottom boat. Apparently he had a fondness for fishing and liked marking every fish reeled in by biting it once gently before it was put into the ice chest. When Johnny told him to “Stay” and play along the shoreline while they fished without him, the dog gave Annie such a dirty look that she feared he would never forgive her.
“I don’t think he’ll ever take to me,” she told Johnny.
Not particularly comfortable with the big dog yet, Annie still jumped every time she stepped into the backyard and imagined she saw a bear sizing her up. Although lately she had taken to feeding Smokey by hand in hopes of winning him over, she couldn’t quite get over her fear of becoming dinner herself.
“He’s just jealous. You’ve got to give him time to get used to you.”
Annie supposed the advice applied to his family, friends and the general population of the reservation, as well. With only two short weeks left in the summer term, Annie was tempted to remind him just how precious their remaining time together was, but decided against it. She didn’t want to rock the boat, so to speak. Johnny didn’t have any trouble with that idea, however, as he proceeded to tease her by deliberately moving the boat from side to side as he launched it in the shallows. Luckily, it didn’t take long for the craft to settle easily into the deep waters of Bull Lake.
Not visible from the highway, the lake is considered one of the jewels of the reservation, and the indigenous Native Americans are understandably protective of it. The natural beauty of the area impressed Annie. Nestled against the base of the mighty Wind River Mountain Range, the lake was crystal blue and unusually calm. The glacier-fed waters were far too cold for water-skiers, tubers, and any but the heartiest of swimmers. Consequently, other than a few picnickers dotting the shoreline they were among about less than a half dozen other fishermen on the lake.
Since her efforts at rowing resulted in Johnny getting far wetter than when he simply manned the oars himself, Annie settled comfortably upon the seat across from him and squinted against the brightness of the day. The sun behind him gave the illusion that Johnny was wearing a halo. His muscles strained against the white T-shirt he wore. Enjoying the view, Annie didn’t bother diverting her gaze.
It wasn’t simply Johnny’s good looks that made her enjoy his company so. Trailing a hand along the surface of the lake, she realized how safe she felt in his presence. A man willing to lay down his own life for his fellow soldiers would not hesitate to do the same for her if a sudden gale were to tip their boat over in the middle of these freezing waters. Or some thug was to try to snatch her purse along a crowded street. A dozen frightening scenarios played through Annie’s mind. In all of them, Johnny emerged as the hero.
“Something wrong?” he asked, noting goose bumps on her arms in the glare of the sun.
“Just hoping you’re not expecting me to bait my own hook,” she replied, avoiding the real answer to his question.
Johnny rolled his eyes in response, causing Annie to flick water from the tips of her fingers at him. The only riffles in the water that she could see were where the oars rhythmically dipped in and out. Partway across the lake, he stopped rowing and rigged up their poles. A true gentleman, he did indeed thread a minnow on the hook. Discreetly Annie turned her head so as not to watch.
“All right, Miss Priss. Here you go,” he said, handing her a rod and bidding her to pay attention as he instructed her in the art of setting the hook.
Annie stared intently at the water, eagerly awaiting a bite. She waited. And waited. And waited some more before her attention waned. Luckily, passing the time was easy in such a peaceful setting. The sun’s reflection on the water made it look as smooth as a mirror. Taking a sandwich out of the picnic basket she had packed, she bribed a mallard paddling nearby into coming closer. He proved to be a very greedy duck indeed.
Before Annie knew it, he had eaten most of her lunch and was demanding more. Johnny had no trouble ignoring his loud quacking. Though Johnny couldn’t help but admire the drake’s iridescent green head and the funny way he stabbed the water with his wooden-looking bill gobbling up floating potato chips, he selfishly refused to share any of his ham and cheese sandwich with him.
Annie leaned back in the boat to stare into a cloudless sky so bright a blue that it hurt to stare at it for very long without sunglasses. She wondered if it were possible for people born and raised here to truly appreciate the pristine quality of the air. And the quality of life. Though such perfect days eluded a painter’s brush, Annie intended to imprint it upon her mind forever. She couldn’t remember ever feeling quite so content and happy.
Joking that she wasn’t going to catch more than a bad sunburn, she nonetheless held dutifully on to her fishing pole. When the rod jerked to life in her hand, she jolted upright almost upsetting the boat in the process. Everything Johnny had told her about setting the hook slipped her mind as she started reeling for all she was worth.
“He’s a fighter. Keep your tip up,” he commanded, grinning from ear to ear to watch her catch her first lake trout.
Annie was surprised by just how hard that was. When she offered to hand the pole to Johnny, he politely declined.
“If you can reel me in, you shouldn’t have any trouble with a little old fish,” he told her.
Annie wasn’t reassured.
“I thought you were uncatchable,” she replied, biting her lip in consternation as she focused all her remaining energy on landing what she was certain would prove to be a shark or some other such monstrous creature.
“Rumor has it,” she wheezed, “that you’re more a catch-and-release kind of guy yourself.”
Johnny reached out to help her steady the fishing pole. Immediately it became easier for Annie to keep reeling. His nearness, his strength, his humor—made everything so much easier to bear. Annie looked at the contrast between the two pairs of hands wrapped around the same fishing rod. No doubt they were an unlikely team. Next to his, her skin was the color of milk. The well-defined muscles of his arms made her strength look delicate in comparison. Still, Annie refused to give up.
Five minutes felt like five hours as she wrestled the fish to the surface. Her wrist hurt. Her arms hurt. And when the line suddenly went slack, thinking she had lost the fish altogether, her pride hurt worst of all.
A silver flash, a splash and the buzz of her reel made her question what she had done wrong.
“Nothing,” Johnny reassured her. “You just keep on doing what you’re doing, honey. That clever old fish’s just making one last valiant run.”
Annie reeled furiously.
Slowly but surely the fish relinquished the fight, turning on its side as Annie brought it to the edge of the boat. Johnny got the net and scooped it up for her to see. He identified it as a rainbow trout. At seven pounds, it was a magnificent catch. Annie admired the iridescent purple stripe along its sides.
“Want to throw it back?” Johnny asked.
Part of Annie wanted to release her noble foe back into the wild. The other part that had worked hard to land it wanted to eat it for supper. She had a funny feeling that there was more at stake here than dinner alone. Somehow the struggle to reel in a trout had come to symbolize her feelings. She gave Johnny a wide smile.
Training her eyes on him instead of the fish, she made her decision. “This one is definitely a keeper.”
Ten
In the halcyon days that followed, Annie became even more convinced that Johnny Lonebear was indeed a keeper. Their temporary relationship assumed a more permanent tone as they slipped into a daily routine that became comfortable far too soon. Since they were both morning people, there was no problem with starting the days early and ending them the same way—snuggled up warm and naked in bed. And despite Annie’s claims that her lover was insatiable, she had little problem keeping up, herself.
She never felt so beautiful and vibrant as when she was with Johnny. As a roommate he was considerate and orderly, perhaps a result of his military training. She seldom, if ever, had to pick up after him. As a lover he proved far more than merely considerate. Without ever insulting her sensibilities, every day he taught her new ways to please him and always gave her pleasure unstintingly in return. There was something magical about his touch that took their lovemaking beyond its ever-certain physical culmination to a higher spiritual plane that left Annie feeling not only sated but also, and more importantly, cherished.
Warrior in Her Bed Page 11
