by Sharon Sala
She nodded.
“From scratch?”
“Yes. You didn’t have two cans of soup that were alike so rather than heat up two different kinds, I just—”
Adam hugged her. “After what I’ve put you through today, you’re amazing. I bring you into my house as a guest, not to cook. Still, I confess that I’m looking forward to eating your soup. It’s one of my favorites.”
Sonora was still smiling when he moved to the kitchen sink to wash his hands. She carried the soup pot to the table and ladled soup into two bowls, then started back to the stove.
“Here, let me,” Adam said, and took the pot from her hands and set it on the burner. “Anything else you need?”
Just you. Luckily for Sonora, Adam couldn’t read her mind. “No. That’s it,” she said.
“Then we eat.”
Adam seated her, then himself. Once seated, he looked across the table. The feeling of peace that was with him settled firmer. Seeing Sonora at his table seemed so right.
“Ham sandwich?” Sonora asked.
Adam blinked. She was holding the platter.
“Yes, please,” he said, and so the meal began.
Sonora was still curious about Adam, and after a few bites of sandwich and part of her soup, she quit eating, put her elbows on the table, and leaned forward.
“Adam?”
He looked up, still chewing. “Hmm?”
“Are your parents still living?”
He nodded as he swallowed quickly. “Yes. They live in Anadarko.”
“So, how did you wind up here after you left the army?”
“Oh. This is the family home. I bought it from Mom and Dad after I quit the military. My sister and her family live in Anadarko. Mom and Dad got lonesome for their grandchildren … said they didn’t see them enough, and moved. This house had been vacant almost a year when I came back.”
“You didn’t want to be close to them?” she asked.
He smiled. “It wasn’t that. It was just that I knew what I wanted to do and the people who needed me most were here.”
Her eyes narrowed as she tried to picture this brown-skinned man with a military haircut and a gun in his hand. He seemed more of a pacifist.
“How did you know … I mean … how did you go from the white man’s army to the Indian world without complications?”
“I didn’t. The complications were there. Sometimes they’re still there, especially with the tribe elders. They see me as something of a contradiction. In my heart, I am a healer, but my past is all mixed up with the white man’s conflicts and war.”
“Does your past trouble you?” she asked.
“No. It’s something I did. It made me stronger, I think, but it didn’t lessen my abilities as a healer.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “How did you know?”
“Know what?” Adam asked.
“That you were supposed to be a healer?”
His expression softened and he almost smiled. “How did you come to law enforcement?”
Sonora frowned. “That’s not fair. I asked first.”
Adam stifled a grin. “That you did.” Then he sighed. “I’ve always known what I was born to do. I just resisted it for a while.”
Her eyes widened. “You knew? How did you know?”
“When I was a child, I got blood poisoning in my foot from stepping on a rusty nail. I was sick for a long time. One night, I heard my parents talking with the doctor. He told them that I might die. I remember being scared … afraid to close my eyes for fear I wouldn’t wake up. I think that’s why I was so sympathetic with the little girl we went to see today. I remembered what it felt like to be afraid to close my eyes.”
“So what happened?” Sonora asked.
He smiled. “Eventually, I slept, but when I did, the Old Ones came to me in my sleep and told me that I wouldn’t die because when I grew up, I was going to be a healer.”
Sonora’s lips went slack as a shiver went up her spine. Even as Adam was speaking, her mind took her straight back to her childhood—to the countless nights she’d gone to bed lonely and afraid only to be visited by a repetitive dream that had both confused and comforted. Surely it couldn’t be the same.
Adam saw her reaction and frowned. “What?”
Sonora thought of the tattoo on her back and shivered again.
“What did the Old Ones look like?” she asked.
Adam’s frown deepened. There was more than curiosity in her questions, and because of that, he described something that, in another set of circumstances, he would never have revealed.
“They are four ancient warriors. One wears a long war bonnet. Another is wrapped in a bear skin and has the mark of a claw on his chest. The third—”
“What are they riding?” she asked.
He frowned. How did she know there were horses?
“They are riding—”
Sonora shuddered, closed her eyes and finished his sentence. “… ghost horses with red eyes and feathers tied in their manes. One has a black handprint on its left hip. Its rider has two white handprints on his face. The last rider is naked with hair so long that it’s tangled up in the mane and tail of his horse.”
The hair stood on the back of Adam’s neck. “How do you know this?”
“I used to dream about them all the time,” she whispered, and then covered her face with her hands. “I didn’t know who they were.”
Adam stared at her, absorbing the shock of what she was saying. From the time he’d learned of the snake tattoo on her back, he’d believed she was special. This only confirmed it for him. He didn’t know what it was she’d been singled out to do, but it was obvious that the Old Ones had a hand in it.
He leaned across the table and pulled her hands from her face. “Sonora. Look at me.”
She opened her eyes and found herself falling into the bottomless shadows in Adam’s eyes. She felt humbled and at the same time, strengthened by his presence.
“Don’t be afraid of your blessings,” Adam said.
“Is that what they are?”
Adam sighed. “Why is it so hard for you to understand?”
“If I was so damned special, then why was my childhood staged in the pit of hell? If these Indian … ghosts … were watching over me, as you suggest, then why didn’t they help me?”
“How do you know they didn’t?” Adam asked. “You’re alive.”
Sonora went still. Suddenly, all the times she’d walked away from danger without a scratch seemed to be more than what she used to call luck. All the times growing up when she could have been hurt—when she might have been arrested or killed now took on a different tone. Her perceptions of her past took a one-eighty turn. Could this be? Had she been looking at a half-empty glass instead of one that was half-full? It was something to consider.
“You’re right. I am,” she said. “And my soup is getting cold.”
Adam didn’t push her into any more conversation. It was obvious that, for the moment, more had been said than she could handle.
“That soup is also wonderful,” Adam said softly. “My mother always puts grated carrot with the celery and onion, too. She says that, without it, potato soup is too white.”
Sonora laughed.
“You should do that more often,” Adam said, then downed his last bite of sandwich.
“Do what?” Sonora asked.
“Laugh,” Adam said, talking around a mouthful. He got up from the table, refilled his glass with iced tea and then took a big drink. “Want a refill?” he asked, as he pointed at her glass.
“No. I’m good.”
He grinned. “You sure are.”
She laughed again. “Are you flirting with me?”
“Yes,” Adam said, then took another drink.
Sonora swallowed nervously and then began gathering up the dirty dishes and carried them to the sink.
Adam helped her clean up the kitchen, making small talk when the silence in the room grew noticeable. Finally
, he pronounced the room clean.
“That’s good enough,” Adam said, as he took the dish cloth from Sonora’s hands and hung it up to dry. “Don’t get it too clean or you’ll make my efforts at housekeeping look bad.”
“But I just—”
“Sonora.”
She sighed, then grew quiet before asking, “It’s time, isn’t it.”
Adam slid his hands around her waist, then stopped without pulling her close. “You’re calling the shots,” he said softly.
She was still thinking about the power he’d given her when the lights flickered then went out.
“Damn,” Adam muttered. “I wondered when that would happen.”
Sonora clutched his forearms, telling herself it was okay, that there was nothing in the dark that hadn’t been there in the light. Still, her heartbeat accelerated and her knees went weak.
“When what would happen?” Sonora asked. “Aren’t they coming back on?”
“Not for a while, honey. Maybe not until morning. Storms are always knocking out power around here. A tree probably fell over on a line somewhere. It will take the power crews a while to find it, then fix it.”
“Oh Lord,” Sonora muttered.
It was then Adam remembered she was afraid of the dark. He pulled her close beneath the shelter of his arm.
“Honey … I’m sorry. You’ll be okay, I promise.”
An encroaching panic left her breathless. “Do you have a candle or a flashlight? We need to make light. Please, Adam, we need to make light.”
He frowned at the fear in her voice and wondered what had happened to her to make her this afraid.
“And we will. Take hold of my hand. There’s a flashlight in my bedroom.”
She clung to his hand as if it was her lifeline to sanity. Even though she knew it was Adam who was beside her, her mind wouldn’t turn loose from the past—to the foster parent who’d locked her in a closet every time her men friends came calling.
Adam was hurrying. He could tell she was bordering on panic, and while he didn’t understand what drove it, he understood fear.
“I’ve got you, honey. Just hang on to me. We’re almost there. I’ve got a great big flashlight in the table by the bed and there are some candles all around the house. We’ll light the place up like a church on Christmas, okay?”
“Okay … okay, just like Christmas.”
She tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a sob. God, she hated herself for this weakness. All these years and it was the one thing she’d never been able to get over.
“We’re in the bedroom now. Here … feel the bedpost. I want you to sit on the bed while I find the flashlight, okay?”
“Yes. I’m sorry that I’m such a nut case,” Sonora said as she sat down on the end of the bed, clutching the bedpost for security.
“You’re nothing of the kind,” Adam said, as he scrambled for the table. Within seconds, his fingers curled around the handle of the battery-powered lantern. “Bingo,” he said, and flipped on the light.
Once again, Sonora’s world centered.
“Thank God,” she muttered, then shook the hair back from her face and stood. “What can I help you do?”
Adam was already pulling a smaller flashlight from a dresser drawer. “I’m going to light a few candles so that we can move around as needed. You can either come with me or wait for me to come back. I won’t be long.”
“I’ll wait.”
Adam’s cursory glance was meant to appear casual, but he was, in fact, assessing her condition. Even in the poor lighting, the pallor in her face was still evident, but he could tell she was breathing easier from the rise and fall of her breasts.
“I’ll be right back.”
He took the other flashlight and made a run through the house, lighting candles and moving them about so that there was at least one light in every room in the house. He checked on his cat one last time, satisfied that Charlie was comfortable and sleeping, then locked up as he moved back through the house.
When he got back to his bedroom, Sonora was right where he’d left her, clutching the flashlight and staring into the shadows about the room.
He pulled a couple of Yankee candles from a cupboard and lit them, putting one on the dresser and the other in the adjoining bathroom, then sat down on the bed beside her.
“Sonora … honey …”
“What?”
He put his arm around her shoulders. “I want you to do something for me.”
She looked up, then into his eyes and wondered when she’d come to trust him. “What is it?” she asked.
He put his hands on either side of her face and held her until her gaze was locked into his, then he took one of her hands and laid it on his chest. “Do you feel that?” he asked.
“What … your heartbeat?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, I feel it.”
Then he put his hand behind her head and pulled until the side of her face was against his chest. “Do you hear it?”
Sonora sighed. The rock-steady rhythm of his heart was impossible to miss. “I hear it,” she whispered.
“Then remember, because even if you can’t see me, you need to know that, even if the batteries go dead and the candles burn out, I’ll be your light in the dark. All you have to do is reach out and I’ll be there. Can you remember to do that? Can you remember not to be afraid?”
She nodded.
Long silent moments passed. Moments in which they grew easier with each other’s presence. Moments in which Sonora’s last hesitation for what was about to occur finally died.
She pulled back from Adam’s embrace and then stood. As he watched, she stepped back from the bed and then pulled the borrowed T-shirt over her head.
Adam grunted softly, as if he’d been kicked in the gut, but he never moved.
Sonora untied the drawstring on the sweatpants. They slid from her slender hips into a puddle of fabric at her feet, leaving her completely naked.
It was obvious to Adam that she was comfortable with her body, as she should have been. She was all lean muscle with a soft, womanly shape. When she lifted her arms to take down her hair, he stood.
“Wait,” he begged. “Let me.”
Without thinking, she turned around, giving him easier access to the ponytail. But it wasn’t her hair that caught Adam’s eye. It was the snake tattoo that ran the length of her spine.
He knew she was waiting, but he was unable to move. The snake’s eyes seemed to be watching him—marking the distance between them.
Without warning, Adam heard a distant rumble and for a moment, thought another round of thunderstorms were coming. When he realized it was drums he was hearing, the room in which they were standing began to fade and another image soon took its place.
* * *
They were standing in a desert with nothing in sight but a distant cloud of dust. Sonora seemed to be swaying to a rhythm only she could hear, while the snake on her back came alive. As Adam watched, the snake slithered off her skin and onto the earth. Then it raised its head toward the dust cloud and began to grow tall. It grew in size until it was standing taller than a tree, directly between them and the approaching cloud of dust.
As the snake grew tall, Sonora seemed to waver, then fell. Adam tried to move, but when he looked down, roots were growing out of his feet into the earth, rendering him immobile.
The dust cloud was closer now, and Adam thought he heard screams coming out of the mass. He didn’t know what it was in the cloud, but he knew it meant danger to Sonora. Sweat broke out on his skin as he struggled to get free, but the roots had gone too deep.
Just before the cloud enveloped them, he screamed out her name, and as he did, the snake opened its mouth. In the same moment, Sonora rose up from the ground. There was a split second in Adam’s mind when Sonora and the snake seemed to be one. The snake—or Sonora—or maybe it was both—inhaled for what seemed like forever, until they had swallowed the dust cloud whole.
Whe
n Adam looked again, the roots were gone from his feet and Sonora was lying motionless on the ground. His heart seemed to stop as fear enveloped him. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t lose her this way. The snake’s rattles were loud in his ear as he called out her name.
Sonora turned around.
“Adam?”
Between one heartbeat and the next, the desert disappeared and Adam was back in his bedroom.
He gasped, as if he’d been drowning, and then staggered backward and sat down on a bench without taking his gaze from her face.
Sonora frowned. “Are you all right?” she asked.
For the moment, speech was impossible. He managed a nod.
“Look, if this isn’t the right—”
He pulled her to him, and then buried his face against her belly. Even as he was wrapping his arms around her waist, the sound of rattles was fading from his mind.
She was real. Not the vision. Just her. But as he was mapping the contours of her hips with the palms of his hands, he was certain of one thing. Sonora was in danger, and he wasn’t going to be able to do a damned thing about it. Only the power within her was going to keep her alive.
CHAPTER 12
Sonora knew something had happened. She could tell by the look on Adam’s face that it had undone him, but she didn’t know what or why. So, when he wrapped his arms around her, she took it as the opening she’d been waiting for, combed her fingers through his hair, then arched her back.
“Come to bed with me, Adam. Make the dark in my world go away.”
It was exactly what Adam needed to get the picture of her in danger out of his head. With one motion, she was in his arms and then he was carrying her to the bed. He laid her down, then stripped without word or explanation for what he’d seen. She’d asked him to bed and he wasn’t about to refuse.
Once his clothes were off, he paused to look at her, naked in his bed and wanting him. It was something out of a dream.
When she reached for him, he reacted instantly by lying down beside her and taking her in his arms.
When she began to run her hands upon his body, he didn’t trust his self-control enough to allow her the freedom. Instead, he swung a leg over the lower half of her body, then straddled her, pinning her to the bed.
