by Mynx, Sienna
“You sound like your sister. Those birds mean nothing to me. It’s all an act. Sit down. How are you girl?”
“I’m good. I heard you were doing two shows so you know I had to come through.” Tiffani dropped her purse. She sat on the sofa next to him. Maybe she should take the seat across from him instead. “Tour going good? You now doing local spots?”
“Got to stay grounded. You know?” Carlton winked. He grinned at her. “Yea, the band thinks we keep our fan base by playing these joints. But I miss my babe. She’s pissed with me.”
Tiffani slipped him a curious look. Carlton did seem a bit concerned. “Have you called her?”
“Nah. I’m going to let her cool off. Your mom told me she took a short vacation. We’ll work it out.” He reached for a bottle of water. Contrary to what the media said, the band members of Notorious Noise were alcohol and drug free. They were all in recovery over some vice or another. Josie said Carlton had a thing for weed in his younger days, but now kept it clean and stayed the course. It was like a brotherhood with them.
“What happened with you two?”
Carlton drank until the bottle of water deflated and was empty. He sighed. “She wants to get married. To make babies. For us to settle down with a house in the burbs, ain’t that some shit? Here we both are at the top of our game. Hell, she’s on every news station since she won that damn case and published that book, and I have six Grammys. But she wants to settle down. It’s bullshit.”
“Hey, my sister is old fashion. I don’t think it’s wrong for her to want to settle down.”
Carlton let go a peal of laughter. “You guys don’t really know her. Yeah, she’s all uptight and serious with that ACLU stuff, but she has a wild streak and can hold it down when she is with me. That’s why we fit. Because she can balance both our lives.”
“Well then why not marry her?”
“I’m not ready, Tiff. You can’t force stuff like that on a man. I love her. She’s my babe. But I’m not going to be dragged into marriage. To hell with that.”
Tiffani sighed. “I’ll talk to her.”
He cut her a side look. “You looking good. What you into lately?”
She had to hide her blush. From the first day she’d met Carlton she was drawn to his sexy smile and predator personality. She bought all his songs, and played them religiously. She even had a few fantasies she hated herself for. It was wrong, and they never crossed the line, but she couldn’t help her crush. “Nothing much. Working. I’m with Crescent Industries as one of their lead architects. We got a renovating deal out in Montana. Plan to build some nuclear energy plants in a town called Mission Creek.”
“Cool. Sounds hot,” he winked.
Tiffani laughed. “Have a good show.”
“Dinner afterwards?” he asked when she rose.
“Sorry I can’t. But I’ll call you.”
“Tiff?”
She stopped at the door and looked back.
“I miss my babe. If you talk to her tell her that. Okay?”
Tiffani smiled. “Why don’t you call her and tell her yourself.”
Mission Creek, Montana
She moaned first, and then groaned. It was a deep mournful sigh that made its way to her slightly parted lips. Her eyes fluttered for a brief second. A jolt of searing pain shot through her skull from the exertion. Her body jerks, forcing her to squeeze her eyes shut once more.
“Relax.” A man’s voice said as a hand gently covered hers. She heard the word over and over. Relax. What did it mean? Am I in trouble? She tried once more to escape the darkness. She gritted her teeth as her lids, heavy with exhaustion, remained slow in parting. The pain pulsed deep within her temples. It reached all the way down to her jaw. Wheezing down another breath, she forced her eyes to part once more. Her vision blurred and shapes began to take on definition. It was a face. A man.
He peered down at her, searching her eyes as she searched his. “Who are you?” The rest of her voice died in her throat. Terror crept in and stilled her. Hard as she tried, her focus kept blurring and clearing. She blinked until her eyes watered and she tried again to see him. His face took on clarity. Strong features, skin bronzed like a freshly minted penny, he had blue-black hair, which cascaded from a center part down to his shoulders. Nothing about him was familiar. He dabbed something sticky and cold on her forehead, just above her brow. Immediately a cooling sensation seeped into her skin, it felt so wonderful she exhaled. She blessed him for the relief.
“You will heal,” he reassured her. Josie tried to move. The stranger’s eyes locked with hers and she abandoned the attempt. He was quiet but he had such a commanding presence she trusted his promise. This strange man was careful with the way he touched her bruises.
A soft shuffle across hardwood flooring like the little ticks of paws, followed by sniffing and panting could be heard beyond him. They weren’t exactly alone. Josie couldn’t turn her head to confirm, she could only move her eyes. But under his care things improved. Soon the place and her surroundings sharpened and then cleared. She was in some kind of cabin, on someone’s sofa. Was it her own?
“Who?”
“Don’t talk, not yet, give it time for your body to reconnect with your soul.” And then he blushed and his eyes moved shyly away. “I’m sorry Leoti, but I had to remove your shirt. To see if your injuries were severe, nothing is broken, but your ribs are bruised.”
Josie frowned. It was then she felt the tight binding under her breasts and over her stomach. She wasn’t wearing her shirt or bra. The blanket concealed her nakedness from him. Was he a doctor? Who was Leoti? Was that her name? Leee-o-teee?
One copper bowl was set aside and another brought up. He crushed something that had a bitter smell to it with a stone mallet. Was he her husband? Her boyfriend? Was this her home? Why did everything hurt, including her lungs each time she breathed? If they knew each other why did he keep looking over and blushing? He was handsome, and sweet, but he felt like a stranger.
“Do you know me?” she managed a clear sentence.
He dipped his fingers in the bowl and scooped something dark and thick, which he applied to the source of her torment. Her eyes closed and his fingers lightly brushed over what she imagined to be a very ghastly wound that stung from her forehead to the side of her face. Her eye on that side of her face seemed heavier and ached more than the other. Was it just as swollen? He stopped and she relaxed. She looked back over at him. His tan was darker than most, but he wasn’t black, what was he? Hispanic? Native American? Then it dawned on her that he had not answered one of her questions. She tried to rise to object when he left her side, but she fell back quickly to the pillows. The fog crept in and her lids fluttered shut. She was sleep once again.
What happened to me?
Josie opened her eyes. The throbbing in her head had lessened but the pain beat through her temples and down her neck and spine. Raising her hand to her face she felt the bandage. It wasn’t there before. How long had she been sleep? It was dark now, except for the crackling glow of a fireplace.
Where am I?
Her eyes continued to survey the surroundings. Was she alone? Around her were carvings of eagles and intricate masks. They seemed to stretch and enlarge before her. She closed her eyes and let her anxiety ease before opening them again. She frowned at the bear rug spread out less than two feet from her on the floor. She looked into the eyes of that dead bear with his mouth gaping. Its vacant stare gleamed with darkness and the white fangs glistened, she closed her eyes again and clenched her fist. Her mind amplified her fear, the bear was dead, it was a rug, only a rug. When she opened her eyes again there was nothing outwardly dangerous about the animal.
She tried to rise but she was acutely aware of her nudity. She pulled the multi-colored fleece blanket with the large eagle stitching to her neck, ignoring the pain. Concentrating she asked herself again: who am I, how did I get here? The more she tried to answer her own questions the more her head hurt. Then suddenly it occur
red to her that not knowing where she was would not be her biggest problem. Not knowing who she was became more relevant. Looking up she saw a dark shadow coming out of a room to her left.
“Don’t come near me,” she whimpered.
His hair covered most of his profile and it wasn’t until he drew closer that she saw him clearly. He did seem vaguely familiar, and that eased her terror. God he was a beautiful man. He wore no shirt. A circular tattoo was at the base of his throat and there were more on his arms. His jeans were stretched tight on his thighs. Even in her disillusioned state she marveled at his beauty. The necklace he wore encrusted with turquoise stones, captivated her.
He rarely spoke and that alarmed her. When he reached for her she grabbed his wrist. “I said don’t touch me. Who are you?”
He looked down at her hand, “My name is Elu.”
“Ee-lew?”
“Yes.”
She released his wrist, realizing how vulnerable she was in his presence. He however made no objection to her behavior. Josie fell back on the stack of pillows he’d placed there to comfort her. Elu again reached, this time to peel away her bandage. He inspected what she imagined were stitches on her face and forehead. He worked in silence, applying the contents of that copper bowl once more; he dressed and cleaned her wound. The cool temperature of the mixture rattled her slightly. It was strange.
“What is it?” she questioned.
“It will help with the healing.”
“Healing, what?” she asked.
“You don’t remember?”
She shook her head slowly no. “I don’t remember.”
“Then you must get more rest. You were in a car accident.”
She wanted to talk now, but the command of his voice, and the care in his eyes made her obey. She watched him rise, saw him blend into the shadows as he moved away.
“Elu?” she mumbled as she drifted again to sleep. “I like that name.”
Elu stood over her and watched her sleep. His fingers ached to touch her once more. To make sure she was comfortable. But he’d already disturbed her sleep twice, checking and rechecking her stitches. It was work he’d done carefully and knew was done correctly. He prayed she didn’t have any noticeable scars. After the rescue he cleaned the blood from her hair and face. It was then he became certain of her identity. The dark beauty that he’d seen in town the day before was even more beautiful as she slept than his first impression of her.
The first day of the accident she only woke to pain and barely spoke. Today she was filled with questions. Well he had several of his own. Like, where did you come from? Who are your people? Are they looking for you? Po arrived at his side staring at their guest, his tail slowly wagged. Feeling him near, he stroked the top of his friend’s head. “She’s a strange one, Po. I think her memory is gone.”
Po looked up at him and then her.
Elu let go a thoughtful sigh, when he turned and walked into his kitchen. He rinsed the bowl clean and fixed himself some tea. As the water heated on the stove he returned to the fireplace and stoked the burning planks of wood. The teakettle hissed. So did the fire, and still all he could hear was her labored breathing from the sofa. He wanted to carry her to his bed and considered doing so. He rose from the side of the fireplace, removed the kettle from the eye of the stove, and turned off the gas flame. He poured a cup and cooled it with a soft blow. Elu returned to her side. He watched her chest rise and fall with much tension. She was having trouble breathing.
“Mullen tea,” he said softly, considering it the best for her ailment. Po had taken up post right at the sofa, his head resting on her leg as he stared at her, watching her sleep. Elu smiled. They didn’t get much company or visitors. Apparently his friend was just as smitten as he was. He set the cup down on the lamp table and decided to present it to her when she woke again. He gave a soft whistle for Po. They left the cabin. Po bounded down the steps and ran out across the land. The night had arrived. The wind blew through the trees. His hair was carried from his shoulders by it. Elu searched for the moon, for a sign. Tonight there was none. No stars could be seen. Just darkness.
It mattered little. He inhaled the sweet mountain air and let it fill his lungs. Sleeping beauty was an unexpected gift, but he had wronged her by taking on the burden of her healing and not getting her conventional medicine. He looked back at the closed cabin door as Po barked and chased something unseen in the tall grass. “We must let your people know that you were hurt.”
Chapter Three
Morning
Josie winced. A dull ache in her ribs reminded her that she was alive. Her eyes opened. She was no longer on a sofa. The large bed was the kingdom of heaven, the mattress firm and warm. Behind her an intricate carved headboard stretched the expanse of the bed and up half the wall. A heavy duvet and pillows soft as clouds tucked her in. All of it made her existence bearable.
“How do you feel?” Her eyes cut over, she blinked a couple of times before she was able to focus on his face. She searched her mind quickly and vaguely recalled his nursing her, then nothing. Everything again went blank.
“Sore,” she groaned. Her throat was so brittle it felt like broken glass when she swallowed. To her relief he brought a cup and straw to her lips. She sipped staring up at him, again questioning the strange fog her memory dwelled in, and the beautiful man that was her angel of mercy.
“The pain is necessary. Accept it and it will lessen. This tea will comfort you. It’ll help with your breathing. I believe your strength will return soon, but your head wound does concern me. You must tell me of headaches, blurred vision, okay?”
She gave a small nod.
A gentle smile touched his lips. “You are a good patient.”
“You’re my doctor?”
“I’m a healer. And I am yours,” he winked then brought the straw back to her lips.
She sipped some more. The tea tasted funny but it soothed her throat. He must have seen it on her face because he smirked. “I know, not the best tasting stuff is it?” he asked. “I should have warned you.”
“Can I ask you something?” she said.
“Of course.”
“My name?”
“You remember nothing?”
“No I don’t. But you called me Leoti, is that who I am?”
He gave her a look of surprise. She wondered about the other look that passed over his face that he’d tried to conceal. Was it embarrassment or guilt? Either way it made her uncomfortable. She struggled each time she opened her eyes to make sense of her existence. It was a suffocating feeling to understand things but not know things.
“Your name is Leoti for me.”
“Leoti?” Josie frowned. The name rolled over her tongue and didn’t taste familiar.
Elu set aside the tea. “You’re right, I gave you that name.”
“Why would you give me a name? Don’t I have one of my own?”
Her sixth sense brought her subconscious fully awake. She looked around the room then to him. It was dawning on her that this man was a stranger. A stranger with all the power. Should she trust him? Holding on to the front of the blanket, her vulnerability added to her mounting panic. But in his eyes she didn’t see malice, which only deepened the mystery. Why would he play nurse if he wanted to do her harm?
“Answer me! What am I doing here? If I’m hurt why am I not in a hospital?”
“One question at a time beautiful.” He exhaled a deep chuckle, which made her smile involuntarily. She quickly covered it. “Leoti is often said in the Siksikáwa Nation. It’s my tribe. We are a plains people. Leoti takes on different meanings. It was the first name that came to mind when I found you. I wasn’t even aware I spoke it. But it does suit you.”
“Found me?”
“Like I said, there was an accident not far from here. You were traveling on the wrong side of the road. Your car went over.”
“I drove off the road?”
“I found you in the car, helpless, alone. That is what
Leoti meant then. Lost flower in the prairie.”
“What does it mean now?” she asked.
“Careful we Blackfoot love to tell stories,” he said and Po walked over. She looked at the dog then to him. The room had a fireplace too but it was far more intimate and cozy. It glowed beyond the bed and the flames cast shadows and light over his handsome face. He was the kind of beautiful that seemed surreal, not feminine, or soft. No his beauty was in his calm manner.
“I’d like to hear the story,” she said. His attention was something she could get used to.
He nodded. “As a boy more of my people lived near these mountains. Most have moved on. My grandfather would not.”
Josie liked when he spoke. She liked the sound of his voice and the poetic delivery of his words. Soon she was hanging on every syllable. The harsh uneven rhythm of her breathing slowed. Everything about him brought peace. “My father’s father who was often called Bull Bear, a name of prominence with my people, raised me. He showed me many things. He was a very good hunter and could build anything with his hands. I learned a lot from him.”
“He sounds like a good man,” she said.
Elu cast his eyes away, toward the fireplace. She watched him now. The muscles in his jaw clenched and she heard a longing in his voice when he spoke. The loss of this person must still cause him pain. A pair of dark orbs with golden flecks in the most handsome face returned to her. “Yes he was a good man, he taught me the power of healing, which is all I’m trying to do for you.” He reached and touched her hand. Josie looked down at his touch then back to his eyes. She didn’t move her hand. It wasn’t a touch of intimacy. He had genuine concern in his eyes and voice. “There was a day when I was lost like people before me. I wandered and wandered for hours. The sun set and rose and I still couldn’t find my way.” He squeezed her hand. “I found myself on an open prairie. The grass reached my waist. I felt small and helpless.”
