Twelve
In the days that followed, people took to avoiding Johnny Lonebear as one would a real bear. A dangerous, wounded grizzly—one intent upon taking his anger out on whatever was unfortunate enough or stupid enough to cross his path.
Before, he had gone out of his way to stop into Annie’s classes just to see how she was doing. Just seeing her had been the bright spot of his day. He’d been impressed with her mastery of even the most challenging students and the progress they were making individually. Now he made a point of steering clear of Annie both socially and professionally. In a few days the summer session would be over, and she would be moving on with her life, leaving behind the reservation, the children who had come to respect her and the man who loved her in spite of everything that had happened between them.
In just a couple of days, Johnny would never have to think about Annie Wainwright again.
Except on those days when he’d have to face her incredible stained-glass mural that would soon be hanging in the entryway of the school. Or every time the sun rose and he was reminded of the way she blushed when he teased her. Or whenever the wind rustled through the aspen leaves bringing to mind the gentle sound of her laughter. Or the way her hair shone in the—
“Good riddance,” proclaimed Ester, breaking into the sanctity of her brother’s thoughts. She had specifically invited Johnny over for his favorite meal, hoping to make amends and cheer him up. That he only accepted on the pretence of dropping off a package for Crimson Dawn made no difference to her. She had tried to warn him about what would happen if he started fraternizing with the enemy. As was usually the case, she had been right. Not that being right was so all-fired gratifying when it meant watching someone you love dealing with such terrible pain. Ever since he’d been a little boy, Johnny had stubbornly refused to accept what his big sister deemed best for him. He insisted on finding out for himself the hard way.
He was not at all unlike Ester’s headstrong daughter in that respect.
The most she’d been able to get out of Crimson Dawn lately in the way of conversation was a grunt every now and then in response to a specific question directed at her. Conversing with Johnny had been equally enlightening lately. And rendered one likely to have her head bitten off in the process. It was hard not to blame the breakdown in family rapport upon the woman who, just as Ester had predicted, was just about to blow off the reservation just as she’d come into it—like a tornado, undaunted by the destruction left in her path.
Ester dropped a twist of fry bread into the boiling pot of oil on top of her stove and pondered the package that Johnny had deposited on the counter before getting himself a beer from the fridge and heading straight for the sofa. Her reaction to that particular parcel was mild compared to her brother’s when he first discovered it on his desk at school. Just seeing Annie’s impersonal note scrawled across the front of the package had damned near drop-kicked him out the window. Ester was surprised to see that the return address was not from Annie’s old alma mater, but rather from a school in Montana. Issues of privacy didn’t deter Ester from opening any mail addressed to any of her children.
It was from a college in Montana. From the looks of the brochures, it was a tribal school. Despite herself, Ester’s curiosity was piqued. Calling for one of the younger kids to set the table, she proceeded to peruse the information. On the off chance that she liked what she saw, this package might be spared the trashcan. If not, it could go the way of Annie’s last correspondence without stirring up any more trouble between Crimson Dawn and herself.
Dinner was a strained affair. After paying her meal a perfunctory compliment, Johnny didn’t say more than half a dozen words. Crimson wasn’t much better. She punctuated the silence with deeply heaved sighs that required no explanation. The rest of Ester’s rambunctious brood seemed to sense the tension in the air. The younger children bolted down their food and then headed for the front door to play till dark.
That their mother didn’t call them back to clear the table and do the dishes didn’t weigh on anyone’s conscience. When freedom beckoned, they heeded its call.
“I’ve had about enough of this!” Ester declared, rising from her seat and smacking an open hand upon the table. Crimson and Johnny both started to get up, as well, but she promptly put them back into their places. “Sit down and wait here for a minute.”
A moment later Ester announced her return by tossing Annie’s package in the middle of the table.
“This is one college I might consider,” she told her daughter. “Mind you, I still think it’s unwise to venture into the ‘outside world,’ but I can’t stand any more of watching you mope around here. As hard as it’s gonna be raising your little brothers and sisters without your help, I won’t come between you and your dreams. Whatever you decide, I’ll support you. And if you change your mind and want to come home, I hope you don’t let pride stand in your way, girl. No matter what, your family will always be here for you.”
As gruff as her voice sounded, Johnny knew it was only to cover the emotions that threatened to send tears streaming down his sister’s weathered face. Giving in wasn’t something Ester was good at.
Crimson pushed her chair back and rushed to embrace her mother. Brushing aside the moisture in her eyes, Ester told her to “run along and take that stuff into your bedroom and sort through it. See if it looks like the kind of place where you might want to spend the next four years. Your uncle and I have some discussing to do in private.”
Hearing the door to Crimson’s bedroom shut behind her, Johnny gave his sister the first genuine smile to cross his face since he and Annie had broken up.
“I’m proud of you,” he said. “I know how hard that must have been for you.”
“Almost as hard as what I’m gonna tell you,” Ester replied, wiping her hands on her apron and giving him a hard look. “It’s no secret that I’m not much of an advocate for mixed marriages. You and I both know how tough it is for breeds raised on the reservation to fit in. Too often they’re not accepted by either race, but if I’m gonna be an auntie, you can count on me being just as involved in raising my nieces and nephews as you’ve been in helping me raise my family by myself.”
Johnny looked at his sister as if she was crazy.
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
“Just because I haven’t had much nice to say about your woman up until now doesn’t mean that—”
“I don’t want to hear it,” Johnny told her, holding up his hands as if to stop the flow of words. Any slanderous comments directed at Annie in hopes of making him feel better were certain to have the opposite effect. As deeply as she had hurt him, he still would not tolerate anyone badmouthing her in his presence.
“Just ’cuz you don’t wanna hear it, doesn’t mean I’m not gonna say my piece. You should know that I believe Annie to be a good woman. What’s more, I think she’s good for you. When you came home from active duty, you were a changed man. The little boy who broke young girls’ hearts and speed limits without a thought to the consequences was replaced by a man who’d lost his own heart altogether. Until Annie came along, I’d just about given up hope that you would ever find it again. So even though I do have reservations about you getting mixed up with some crazy white gal, you have my blessing.”
Johnny didn’t know what to say. It was the last thing he ever expected to come out of his sister’s mouth. He couldn’t have been any more shocked than Crimson had been a moment ago by her mother’s extraordinary behavior.
As Ester continued talking, her voice grew softer. “Watching the two of you together brings back memories of my George. It’s been almost ten years since he died, and not a day goes by that I don’t miss him like hell. Little brother, if you feel even half the love for Annie that I felt for my man, you’d be an idiot to let her get away.”
Had her words not been so very earnest and tears not risen to her eyes, Johnny might have scoffed at how easily his big sister assumed he could simply p
atch a relationship that was beyond repair.
“In case you aren’t aware of the fact, Annie’s the one who broke it off between us. She’s the one who kicked me out without so much as an explanation why. For the record, it wasn’t my idea.”
“So what?” Ester interrupted. “Women do irrational things when they’re pregnant.”
“What in the world would make you think Annie’s pregnant?” he blurted out, incredulous at the very thought. He’d always been careful about using protection—except that one time…. His eyes narrowed into slits as Ester burst into laughter at the expression on his face.
“Women just know these things, little brother.”
She shook her head in dismay at his masculine inability to pick up on the obvious signs of morning sickness and something dubbed “that certain look.”
“Your powers of observation never fail to amaze me,” Johnny told her dryly, not inclined to give her feminine intuition an ounce of credibility. “Aren’t you the same woman who has trouble matching your kids’ socks half the time?”
“Laugh all you want, but when I saw Annie the other day when I picked Crimson up after class, my instincts told me that this time next year I’m going to be an aunt. I’d suggest you at least ask her about it before it’s too late.”
Questioning the sudden turnaround in her attitude, Johnny studied his sister’s face closely. There was nothing but sincerity and concern in her features. That her love for him superseded any misgivings she might have about Annie meant a great deal to him.
“You are an incredible woman,” he told her, stopping to plant a kiss on her weather-beaten cheek before heading to the front door.
He didn’t quite know what he was feeling at the moment. Certainly he was confused about what the truth was. The possibility of fathering a child filled him with an overwhelming sense of pride and responsibility such as he had never known before. He was also enraged by the possibility that Annie might actually try to keep such monumental news from him. Would she really take off without giving him so much as an inkling that she was carrying his child?
He could think of no sin as reprehensible. Or unforgivable.
Driving the back way to Annie’s house without regard to posted speed limits, Johnny attempted to sort out his feelings. If Ester’s suspicions proved true, that meant Annie was willing to sacrifice his love for that of their baby. That she hadn’t confided in him could only mean that she didn’t trust him to do the right thing. Or maybe she was afraid that he would, and she didn’t want any part of marriage to him.
Once again Johnny found himself in the line of fire. Whichever way he ran, chances were he was going to catch a bullet. Annie’s reasoning was inconsequential in that regard. What did it matter to Michael whether he was killed by a declared foe or by friendly fire? Dead was dead. The only advantage to that being that the walking wounded suffered longer.
By the time Johnny reached Annie’s house, he had worked himself into a state of cold fury. The fact that he had already broken the front door the last time he had been here didn’t stop him from pounding on it with all his might. The cardboard that Annie had used to patch over the shattered glass shook loose beneath the beating of his fist upon the frame.
“Answer this door,” he called out, “before I rip it off its hinges.”
Other than to crawl out her bedroom window, Annie felt she had little choice in the matter. She was in the midst of packing when she heard the pups raising a ruckus in the backyard when Johnny pulled up. Their welcoming yips made her feel a traitor to her own heart. Setting aside her suitcase, she went to the door without bothering to check her appearance.
She knew she looked a mess. Steady crying, lack of sleep, a queasy tummy and guilty conscience had all taken a toll on her. She hoped it would only take one look for Johnny to decide he was darned lucky to be rid of her. Forcing her wobbly knees to work, she made her way to where a very real big bad wolf stood huffing and puffing at her front door.
“I’m coming,” she hollered, knowing it would be useless to try to stall him, when he was obviously so intent upon seeing her.
One look at his face and she thought about turning around and running away. Although he had given her his reassurance when last they had parted that he would never hurt her, Johnny looked as though he was ready to rip Jewell’s house apart board by board. It took all her courage to unlatch the flimsy lock that was barely keeping him at bay. His rage was palpable in the air. Thinking that he truly must have been a fearsome warrior in battle, Annie stepped back and let him inside.
“What do you want?” she demanded in a voice that sounded far steadier than she felt.
“The truth,” he spat out, grabbing her by the shoulders and resisting the urge to shake it from her. “Are you pregnant?”
The silence that filled the little house was heavy. Faced with Johnny’s fury and her own guilt for not telling him sooner, Annie didn’t even try to deceive him any longer. Studying his reaction, she sought far more than the answers to the question she gave him in response.
“How did you know?” she asked in a whisper laden with dread.
Johnny’s hands dropped to his sides. He shook his head in disbelief.
“It’s true, then?” he asked softly.
“It’s true.”
Bracing herself against a barrage of malicious name calling, Annie fully expected him to accuse her of tricking him into having unprotected sex with her. Or even worse to use the approach her once-upon-a-time beau had used to make her go away without pressing for child support: accusing her of sleeping around with multiple partners.
“Don’t worry,” she hastened to assure him. “I don’t expect anything from you in the way of support, and I have no desire to hurt you. In fact, I kept this a secret from you because I thought it was in your best interests if I did. I’m sure the last thing you need right now is any personal controversy associated with Dream Catchers. Since I’ll be leaving before I start to show, you shouldn’t be bothered by any more than the usual rumors.”
Far from being reassured, Johnny looked utterly appalled by her awkward attempts to make him feel better about being thus betrayed.
“The usual rumors?” he asked in a voice tight with emotion.
Annie wasn’t about to dignify the bewildered, hurt expression on his face. She couldn’t believe he didn’t know to what she was referring. Instead she continued on in the same vein, attempting to put his mind at ease while at the same time bolstering her own flagging confidence. Shortly before Johnny had arrived, Annie had indulged in a crying jag spurred by self-doubt and bits of hysteria. Money wasn’t the only issue when it came to raising a child alone. Having cared for an infant while the birth mother was off gallivanting around the country for weeks on end, Annie wasn’t naive in that respect. She knew how exhausting it was to get up in the night for obligatory feedings, then drag oneself to work the following morning. The thought of caring for a sick baby with the measles or mumps or, God forbid, colic with no one to relieve her would surely test Annie’s mettle. On the other hand, the joyous milestones that she had always dreamed of sharing with her soul mate might well belong to whatever baby-sitter was watching over her baby while she was out making a living.
“Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean that your life has to be affected,” she continued in a selfless tone intended to let him off the hook completely. “Unless you want to be involved, of course. In which case, I’m sure we could work out an acceptable visitation schedule.”
Instead of seeing relief ease the muscles of his brow as Annie expected, her words had the exact opposite effect. His face contorted in fury as he strove to find the words to express his righteous anger at being treated as an incidental piece in his child’s life.
“If I want to be involved?” he repeated. Sarcasm dripped from his words.
Johnny’s hands were curled into fists at his sides, and he was visibly shaking with rage.
“Just what makes you think I wouldn’t want to
be involved?” he demanded to know.
Spurred by the fear of losing her child, Annie came up swinging. “Past experience,” she spat out.
“Yours or mine?”
“Both!”
The word settled between them like a wall over which they glared hotly at each other. After what seemed forever, Annie finally volunteered an explanation, albeit an overtly hostile one.
“Are you going to deny the scores of claims that you are the father of more than one illegitimate child running around on the reservation without so much as his father’s last name?”
Johnny hated to believe that such unsubstantiated accusations could cause Annie to dismiss him as an honorable man.
“I won’t bother denying the rumors, just the facts behind them,” he told her coldly. “Doesn’t the fact that I was so careful about using protection with you suggest that I’m not some irresponsible buck who doesn’t know which head he’s supposed to use to think with? Don’t you think I’m as aware as anybody of the impact of broken homes upon the children I work with day in and day out? Don’t you think that growing up without parents myself I might just have some pretty deep feelings on the matter when it comes to bringing a child of my own into this world?”
Johnny’s voice cracked, giving emphasis to the hurt behind the words.
Any good counselor worth her salt knows that pain lies just beneath anger. That Annie was so surprised by Johnny’s outburst served to show how much more focused she was on protecting herself than on giving credence to his feelings. Her own pain surged to the surface.
“Do you have any idea what it’s like to have complete strangers come up to me in the grocery store and introduce their children to me as yours?”
The agony reflected upon her delicate features reached into Johnny’s heart and squeezed hard. That she had been the butt of such a cruel joke explained much about why she had behaved the way she did.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured. “I don’t know who’s been stirring the ashes, but somebody’s been playing mind games with you by sending up false smoke signals.”
Warrior in Her Bed Page 14
