The man had an overly protective nature, she decided. But she liked him. A lot. "I'm from Ohio. It snows there."
"Yeah, well, this is Duarte, Texas. And it's been known to flood here. Storms are rare, but they do happen." He tipped his hat, spilling droplets of water onto the glass tabletop. "Besides, I can give you the grand tour."
The grand tour, Kelly learned an hour later, existed of a post office, a diner with a jukebox selection at every table, a cowboy bar called the Two Step and a run-down motel known as Duarte Rats. The market sat between a Laundromat and a pharmacy that sold cherry colas and root beer floats. The entire town faced the highway, a paved road that led to other small Texas establishments in other small Texas towns. Of course there was plenty of empty land in between.
"We've got one physician in town," Shane said, as they entered the market. "His practice is up the road. He's got a little clinic in front of his house: It's not much, but Doc Lanigan is a good old guy."
"I thought the expression was good ol' boy."
He grinned. "Yeah, that, too."
The old-fashioned market differed from the superstore where Kelly worked. There were only three check stands and no scanners. Her hometown seemed like a major metropolis compared to Duarte. Fast-food chains didn't exist in this tiny West Texas town, and she ventured to guess the privately owned market didn't offer union benefits, either.
Shane pushed the cart, and Kelly loaded it. They stood in front of the spice rack, looking for powdered curry. "Don't see any," he said.
She supposed Indonesian dishes weren't a favorite in Duarte. "How about tarragon?"
He scanned the shelf. "Nope."
She settled on a bottle of imported teriyaki sauce. As they continued up and down the aisles, her stomach jumped and jittered, making her wonder if the baby suffered from a case of hiccups. Kelly placed a calming hand over the commotion, feeling suddenly sad. She wanted to share moments like this with the father of her child. She had never planned on being a single parent.
She looked over at Shane. What would he do if he impregnated a woman he didn't love? Would he marry her? Become the husband and father Jason wasn't willing to be?
Shane turned toward her. "Steak, right?"
"What?" She realized they stood at the meat counter, the butcher waiting for her to make a selection. "No, chicken."
"This is beef country," Shane countered. "The steaks here are so fresh they practically moo."
That thought didn't hold appeal. "Chicken breasts," she told the butcher. "Fillets." She ordered enough for two hearty portions and then chose halibut for another home-cooked meal. Aside from her frantic, teary-eyed doughnut bout and an occasion bowl of ice cream, her baby had gotten used to low cholesterol foods.
"Puma likes chicken," Shane said as they moved on. "Except he takes his feathers and all."
Kelly winced. "Remind me not to invite him to dinner." She studied her neighbor's teasing smile. He was so easy to talk to, so easy to consider a friend. "What about you?"
He steered the cart toward the produce section. "I prefer my fowl without the feathers."
She laughed and bumped his arm. "I was inviting you to have dinner with me tonight."
"Oh." He grinned. "Okay. Sure."
An elderly woman walked by and smiled, but not with the kind of smile that said she knew Shane. Kelly realized the lady had mistaken them for an expectant couple – happily married and awaiting the birth of their first child. Loneliness stabbed her chest like Juliet's dagger.
She lifted a cantaloupe. Should she tell Shane about Jason? Ask for his opinion about the paternity suit? Turning the melon, she examined it without really seeing. She was leaving in nine days. She wouldn't have access to Shane's friendship forever, and she had come to Texas to make an important decision. Kelly took a deep, nervous breath. Shane had offered to listen once before.
But still…
She set the melon down and picked up another. Maybe she should warn him to be prepared for a serious dinner conversation that night.
"Are you very good at giving advice?" she asked.
"About what?" He glanced down at her hand, then back up, his amused gaze meeting hers. "Cantaloupe?" He made a show of sniffing the air. "Truthfully, I'm more of a watermelon guy myself."
Her pulse tripped. "I was thinking more along the lines of what I should do about my life."
His expression turned serious, the amber sparkle in his eyes softening to a pale glow. "I don't know if I'm much good at handing out advice, but I'll be here if you need me."
"Thank you." Kelly placed a cantaloupe in the basket, trying to appear unaffected by the gentle sound of his voice. The kindness he offered.
I'll be here if you need me.
Jason Collier, not Shane Night Wind, should have whispered those words.
She had heard that unborn babies choose their parents, that their tiny spirits decide who will give them life. Kelly cradled her tummy, comforting her womb. If her child wanted Jason for a father, then maybe, just maybe, Shane could help her find a way to make that happen.
* * *
Chapter 4
«^»
Shane walked into Kelly's cabin, dripping rain. He handed her a bouquet of mixed flowers. "For the table," he said.
The flowers were wet, she noticed, glistening with beads of water. "Thank you. Did you pick them?"
"Yeah." He reached into his coat pocket and removed a small bundle of what looked like dried herbs. "I brought some sage along, too."
She studied the offering. A fragrant aroma rose from it. "Do you want me to season the chicken with it?" she asked, feeling a bit perplexed. The chicken breasts were already in the oven, baking in a marinade of teriyaki sauce, rings of canned pineapples on top.
A smile spread across his face, softening his features. "This is for smudging. I thought it would be good for the baby."
Kelly glanced down at her tummy, then back up at her dinner guest. "Smudging?"
He stepped farther into the room. "You've never burned sage?"
Dumbfounded and still holding the flowers, she shook her head. Why would burning a dried herb be good for her baby?
Shane removed his duster and placed it on the barrel chair. His rain-dampened hair had been plaited into two long braids. Aside from pictures of Indians in history books, she had never seen a man with his hair braided. It suited him, she decided, complemented his striking features and masculine clothes.
"Your granddaddy used to smudge," he said, nodding to the cedar chest. "Isn't there a small clay pot in there? And some loose feathers?"
"I think so." There were all sorts of interesting items in the chest, Texas trinkets she assumed her grandpa had collected.
She knelt to open the trunk. Shane lowered himself to his knees beside her. He found the articles he was looking for, and she came across a mason jar for the flowers. He clasped her hand to help her up. Kelly could have sworn she'd gained at least five pounds this week.
They walked to the dining table, and she placed the bouquet between two tall, white candles. She had already set the table with Grandpa's chipped stoneware.
"Smudging is a purifying ceremony," Shane explained. "Sage, cedar or sweetgrass can be used. It rids the environment of negative energy." He lit the bundle, then fanned it with a feather.
Kelly watched as he circled the cabin and directed the smoke, cleansing each area. When he returned to the table, he lifted his gaze to hers. "I can smudge you if you'd like."
Curious, she whispered a shy "okay" and tried to picture her grandpa doing this.
Shane positioned himself in front of her, then backed up slowly, searching, he said, for the energy field that surrounded her, an aura he hoped to feel.
What would he find? she wondered nervously. Her tattered emotions? The loneliness that followed her each day?
Kelly kept her eyes trained on him, and as he came closer and fanned the fragrant smoke, she began to relax. The experience had become almost mystical. His hazy form l
ooked like that of an ancient warrior, a vision drifting through the fog.
Shane Night Wind intrigued her. Even his name stirred an engaging image – this man who rescued cougars, picked wildflowers in the rain, braided his hair.
They stared at each other through the sage-scented haze. "Thank you," she said. "For thinking of the baby."
He set the clay pot on the table. "You're welcome."
She wanted to take his hand and place it against her tummy. The baby was moving gently – a tiny angel fluttering its wings – cleansed and whole, awaiting the world.
"I should check on dinner," she said when the moment turned much too quiet. She couldn't possibly reach for his hand. What would he think?
They ate fifteen minutes later, seated across from each other at the scarred table, rain slashing against a small window. The sage had burned out, but the candles were lit, white wax melting, golden flames dancing.
Her nervousness returned. She had no idea how to start the conversation they both knew was supposed to take place.
Shane looked up from his plate. The ice in his glass crackled. Kelly could hear everything, including the pounding of her own heart.
"It's okay," he said. "We can talk about what's bothering you after dinner."
She startled, a forkful of food frozen in her hand. "Can you read minds? You always seem to know what I'm thinking."
The flickering candlelight illuminated his features, hollowing his cheekbones even more. "Sometimes I feel things, other people's emotions, I guess." He lifted his glass and smiled. "But I'm not psychic. I'm just observant, that's all."
Fascinated, she leaned forward. "What about earlier? Did I really have an energy field around me?"
"I think everyone does, but I can't always feel them." He caught her gaze and held it. "But with you I did."
His admission made her heart pound a little faster. "I've never met anyone like you before."
His lips tilted into another small smile. "Nor I you."
They fell silent then, a stillness that intensified the rain – a companionable quiet, Kelly thought, indoor warmth amid a spring storm. She studied him while they ate – the angular shape of his face, gold in his eyes, the mannerisms that seemed so naturally cat-like.
"Have you always worn your hair long?" she asked finally. Shane nodded. "I was taught that a Comanche man should take pride in his hair." He set his fork down and picked up his water. "They were a bit obsessive in the old days, though. Sometimes they would attach horsehair to their own to make it longer. Or they would beg locks off a mourning woman."
"Comanche women cut their hair when someone died?"
"Sometimes the men did, too. But not as often as the women."
Kelly's mind drifted to her grandpa. Ten months had passed, but she still mourned him. She glanced at the clay pot, wondering if Shane had taught the older man the practice of smudging. Grandpa's Texas vacations seemed almost secretive now. Magical, too.
"Will you light the sage again?" she asked. She liked the earthy aroma, the calming effect of the scented smoke.
He smiled. "Sure."
While the dried herb smoldered, they cleared the table, then sat in the main room sampling Kelly's favorite dessert – cantaloupe and vanilla ice cream. Shane reclined in a leather chair, and she claimed the sofa. The rain hadn't let up; it crashed against the windows in crystalline sheets.
"My mother and I haven't been getting along lately," she said, knowing her statement wouldn't seem out of the blue to Shane. If he was sensing her emotions, then he would understand the direction she was taking.
He set his half-eaten dessert aside. "Because of the baby?"
"Because of the baby's father," Kelly admitted hastily. "She wants me to force him into taking a paternity test."
She waited for Shane to respond, but he just sat there, staring at her. She glanced down at her ice cream, wishing he would say something. Anything. Talking about this proved difficult enough, but now his strained silence managed to clog her throat.
* * *
Paternity test. Those familiar words banged against Shane's chest like a row of brass knuckles. Already he could feel welts forming on his heart, recalling bruises from his past.
He steadied his gaze and tried to focus on Kelly. She needed a friend, someone to talk to. Reliving the pain from his marriage wasn't going to do either one of them any good.
"Who is your baby's father?" he asked. And why was her mother rallying for a paternity test?
Kelly's breath hitched. "His name is Jason Collier. But he never paid much attention to me, except for a smile or two when we were in high school…"
Her words drifted, and Shane decided she was recalling the teenage smiles this Jason character had given her. "So he wasn't your high school sweetheart?"
"Heavens, no. He was one of the most popular boys at Tannery High. He dated cheerleaders and girls from prestigious families."
Shane didn't like the inflection in Kelly's voice, the tone that said she didn't think she measured up to Jason's standards. As an image of himself and Tami came to mind, he pushed it away. There had been a time when he had questioned his selfworth, too.
Kelly toyed with her ice cream. "I was shocked when Jason asked me out last summer. Of course he knew I was attracted to him, but I never expected him to act on it."
"So you dated him?"
"For two weeks before we—" She glanced away quickly.
"Slept together?" Shane provided, wondering why the admission made Kelly uncomfortable. She was twenty-four years old. Having a lover was natural.
"It was my first time," she offered suddenly.
Surprised, he leaned forward. When a glimmer of shame drifted across her face, he frowned. Virginity hadn't dawned on him. "That's okay. Everybody has to have a first time."
She placed her dessert on the coffee table. The ice cream had begun to melt, pooling inside the cantaloupe half. "It wasn't okay," she whispered. "I mean … I wasn't very good at it." She sighed and raised her voice to a more audible level. "I don't know, maybe it was nerves. Jason was going out of town for a month, and that seemed like such a long time to be without him. I was a little desperate, I suppose, not quite myself."
A knot formed in Shane's stomach. "He pressured you?"
She shook her head. "No. I was inexperienced, but I thought lovemaking would bring us closer, that when he returned he would be anxious to resume our relationship."
"And he wasn't?"
"He was angry when he found out I was pregnant."
Her eyes misted. Shane noticed they had changed colors, the deep hazel washing to a pale brown. She looked hollow, he thought, and sad, so very sad. What kind of jerk was this Jason, anyway?
"Are you in love with him?" he asked.
Those faded eyes shifted focus, away from his questioning stare. He wanted her to say no. For some unfounded reason, he didn't want her to be in love.
Shane righted his posture. Not loving a jerk would be easier on her, he told himself. The churning in his stomach wasn't jealousy, it was concern.
"I don't know, maybe," she said finally. "I think about him a lot, and thinking about him makes me ache." She twisted the napkin on her lap, then tore at it, spilling tiny pieces onto her dress. "He's very charming, or he was before I got pregnant. Jason's handsome and friendly. Both men and women like him. He was popular in high school because he was nice to people."
Shane got an image of a young entrepreneur – clean-cut, well-spoken, well educated – just like the lawyer who had turned Tami's head.
The churning in his gut intensified. "I suppose he's rich."
Kelly practically jumped to her feet. The shredded napkin flew to the floor, the tiny pieces scattering. "I can't believe you said that."
She tore out of the room, Shane staring after her. He waited a beat before he followed her.
She had retreated to the kitchen, her back to the open doorway. He couldn't see her face, but it didn't take a genius to know she was crying. Not
loud enough to hear, he realized. Soft tears spilled from her eyes, the kind that ached. Tears he had somehow caused.
"Kelly?" He moved closer and reached for her hair, but before making contact, he dropped his hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."
She turned slowly, her watery eyes meeting his. "You think I'm after Jason's money."
"No, I don't." She was so fragile, he thought. Her dress flowed to her ankles, a pale floral print draping elegantly over the fullness she carried. "I think you're too sweet for something like that."
She swiped at her tears as though suddenly embarrassed by them. "Jason thinks I'm after his money. When he first found out about the baby, he said it wasn't his. And then later, he accused me of getting pregnant on purpose. I'm not sure what he believes now."
Shane wanted to tell her that Jason Corner was an idiot and she should just forget about him, but he knew that advice stemmed from the clench in his gut – the reminder of his own past. Kelly cared about her baby's father, maybe even loved him. "Jason is probably just nervous. Fatherhood scares some guys."
"So you think he'll come around?" she asked, her voice still a little broken.
Shane nodded. "Yeah, I do."
"You're not just saying that to make me feel better?"
He wanted to touch her, run his fingers through her hair, graze her cheek. Consoling gestures, he told himself. He understood pain.
"I'm speaking from experience, Kelly. I told you about how guilty my dad had been over me." And Tami's lawyer factored into his opinion, too. Reluctant fathers often redeemed themselves, accepting financial and emotional responsibility for their children. After all, Kelly hadn't described Jason as a monster. A bit of a jerk, but plenty of guys overreacted to unexpected pregnancies. Not all of them turned out to be deadbeat dads.
Kelly dried the rest of her tears. "Tom didn't question your paternity, did he?"
"No." He gave in to his urge and reached for her hand, held it lightly in his. "At least not that I was told. But it's tough for a guy to know if a child is really his. Sometimes women lie. Or sometimes they just don't know for sure. Multiple lovers aren't that uncommon."
NIGHT WIND'S WOMAN Page 5
