The Return Of Cord Navarro

by Vella Munn

  The phone rang. She reached for it, praying she’d hear her son’s voice at the other end. Instead, her caller was Kevin’s father. He and his wife had just gotten home from a late commitment and had heard that Matt’s parents were looking for him. “I take it there are no updates,” he said.

  “I’m afraid not,” she admitted, and filled Hallem Segal in on Cord’s efforts so far. Hallem tried to be reassuring and offered his help. He said she seemed to be holding up well.

  If he only knew! She was holding her fears at bay with an iron grip. After hanging up the phone, she glanced over at the clock. How did it get to be 11:00 p.m.? Leaving Cord with his meal, she stepped into Matt’s bedroom. For too long she couldn’t make herself turn on the light. Standing in the dark, she could imagine that her son was curled up in his bed, fist tucked under his chin.

  But he wasn’t here, just his essence, his energy and scent; his everything. Feeling overwhelmed, she snapped on the light and forced herself to concentrate on what had brought her in here. Matt’s wool-lined but nearly too small wind breaker wasn’t in its usual place on a hook behind the door. At least he had some kind of covering. Not allowing herself time to take in any more of her son’s cluttered, comfortable room, she walked back into the living room and told Cord what she’d discovered. He nodded.

  Before she could think of what, if anything, to do next, Cord finished his sandwich and wiped his hands on the napkin she’d given him. “I appreciate it. I didn’t know I was hungry. That happens when I’m on a search.”

  He hadn’t touched the other sandwich or the salad she’d pulled out of the refrigerator. “You lose your appetite?”

  “I just don’t think about things like food.” He nodded toward where he’d left the Jeep. “I have my things out there. Do you mind if I grab a little sleep here? There isn’t anything I can do until morning.”

  She was surprised he felt he had to ask. Certainly he understood they were in this together until Matt was safely back where he belonged. By way of answer, she walked into her bedroom for a spare blanket. She’d started to hand it to him when she realized what she was doing. Because her living room wasn’t that large, she’d bought a rather small couch. There was no way he could get any rest on it. The youth bed in Matt’s room wasn’t any better.

  She held out her hand, indicating she’d help him to his feet. “Take my bed. You’ll need it.”

  He stared at her hand for so long that she thought he was going to ignore her impulsive offer. Then, with a sigh that came from deep inside him, he engulfed her fingers with his own. She braced herself against his weight—and more. “Shannon? Thanks.”

  “For what?” He stood maybe five inches away, smelling of the forest, of night, of life, of something deep and undeniable and compelling. She’d never been able to look at him without thinking of his substance. If she put her arms around him, as she had a thousand years ago, she’d find nothing except muscle. When he released her hand, she pressed her palm against her leg, wiping away his impression—trying to, anyway.

  Cord yawned. “For being...” He indicated the blanket. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “Yes, I do. That’s our son out there.”

  He gave her a look that made her wonder if he was searching through himself for something—maybe an emotion, maybe certain words, maybe a way of reaching across the chasm between them. She wanted to reach for him and yet the years had turned them into strangers. She might not want to spend the night alone, but she didn’t have the strength or courage to try to hack away at what had gone wrong between them.

  Concentrating on every muscle movement, she took a backward step. “I hope, when this is over, we’ll be able to talk.”

  “Talk?”

  “About—” Why it fell apart for us. She didn’t try to finish. He was right. Except for Matt, they had nothing in common. “About what the two of you will be doing this summer.”

  The tarp he’d stretched between four close-growing trees flapped wildly in the wind, the sound waking Matt Navarro from a light sleep. He heard the plop-plop of fat raindrops as they hit the heavy fabric, but so far none of them had reached him. Realizing that, he smiled. Then, although he hated moving, he forced himself to sit up. The night was awfully dark, pitch black in fact. Other people, sissies and cowards, would be inside a tent with a lantern burning. Someone like Kevin sure wouldn’t be here alone; most grown-ups wouldn’t, either. But he wasn’t most people. He was Cord Navarro’s son, brave, part Ute Indian.

  Because, like his dad, he didn’t wear a watch, he had no idea what time it was. But then, it didn’t matter. His dad would know; Cord Navarro knew everything important.

  Knew that there was nothing to be scared of just because it was dark and no one was anywhere around.

  Nothing to be scared of—hadn’t his dad told him that the last time they went camping together?

  And he believed what his dad told him.

  After listening for a few minutes, Matt decided that the flapping tarp and rain and not Pawnee or owls or some other night creature must have wakened him. It took him a few more minutes to convince himself to crawl out of his cozy mummy bag. Working by feel, he managed to tighten his makeshift roof so it no longer made such a racket. Still using his hands instead of his flashlight, which he didn’t want to risk running down by using any more than absolutely necessary, he checked to make sure his bag hadn’t slipped off the pad his dad had bought so he’d be protected from cool, damp ground. Then he dove back into bed and stretched out his stockinged feet. Only after he’d tucked the bag up around his shoulders did he realize he hadn’t checked to make sure the heavy-duty flashlight was within reach. Darn it, if some animal snuck up on him—

  Don’t be scared! Don’t even start thinking like that! Only babies—

  I’m not a baby!

  I know you aren’t. You’re Cord Navarro’s son. You want him proud of you, don’t you?

  ’Course I do. I’m not chicken.

  Tired of the dumb argument going on inside him, he tried to listen for anything except the rain, but all he heard was Pawnee snorting and pawing the ground nearby. “I’m sorry,” he told the gelding. “How was I supposed to know it was going to rain? Besides, you’ve been rained on worse than this. And snowed on, too. Remember. Why don’t you just go back to sleep like I’m going to?”

  Pawnee snorted again. Matt couldn’t tell whether the horse was agreeing or arguing with him. Maybe he was thinking about thunder and lightning, two things that really made. Pawnee show the whites of his eyes. He still felt bad that Pawnee had to be out in the rain while he remained dry, but he didn’t know what he could do about that. He’d been a little unsure of how to tie Pawnee so he wouldn’t wander away during the night, and was irritated with himself for not paying more attention to what his mom had said about how to keep horses from tangling themselves in ropes. When he got back, he’d ask her again and really listen this time.

  Mom.

  A sharp sense of unease kept him from relaxing enough to fall back to sleep, but then he reminded himself that his mom didn’t know he wasn’t with Kevin. She wouldn’t be worrying. Hadn’t she told him she wasn’t going to call Kevin’s uncle at Wagon Creek to check up on him because it wasn’t as if he’d never gone there before? Kevin might be a king-size butthead, but at least he knew enough to keep his mouth shut. Despite being so mad at Kevin he’d nearly wrestled him to the ground, Matt had stuck around long enough to make sure Kevin understood he was not to tell his mom what his real plans were.

  And if she somehow found out that he wasn’t at Wagon Creek, Kevin was to say nothing except that Matt was going to spend two nights camping out and for her not to worry.

  Two nights were enough for what he was going to do; at least, he was pretty sure they were.

  His shoulders had gotten cold while he was fixing the tarp, but they were already warm again. He’d have to remember to tell his dad that the mummy bag he’d given him was absolutely perfect.

  Da
d.

  Although sleep tugged at him, he tried to imagine where his dad might be tonight. He wasn’t sure how far away Yellowstone was. A long way by car, but his dad had flown his plane. Soon—real soon—his dad would let him take the controls.

  And track...track down people who’d gotten lost or hurt and were...

  More asleep than awake, he barely heard the owl hooting overhead. His mouth twitched into a half smile as he imagined the round-eyed bird staring down at him. Owls were neat with their big, keen eyes and ears so good they could hear a mouse hundreds of feet away. Their ears—something his dad had told him about their ears.

  He’d ask him ... tomorrow. No. Not tomorrow, because Cord Navarro was saving some dumb woman, and he was going to climb a mountain all by himself so the next time he wouldn’t be left behind like some baby.

  A...really tall...mountain.

  The smell of rain blew in through the open window in Shannon’s bedroom. The scent, so much a part of Cord, cleared away the haze of sleep he’d only briefly managed to wrap around himself. Sleep was important. Although he’d learned to function without it for days on end, he knew how essential it was to replenish his body. If it had been any other time and the search ahead of him had involved anyone else—

  His son was out there, a lean, growing boy with dark eyes that sparkled with excitement for life’s adventures. Thinking about Matt warmed him, warmed him and made him resent how quickly his son was leaving childhood behind.

  That’s why Matt was out there on a rainy night, because he felt ready to take a giant step toward adulthood. Maybe he was ready. Maybe he wasn’t.

  Yet that wasn’t what kept Cord awake tonight. In truth, if it wasn’t for Shannon, he would have been tempted to wait for Matt to finish his personal test and return, successful and boastful. He’d done what Matt was doing and more when he was even younger, proving to Gray Cloud that the lessons learned at his grandfather’s side had taken.

  But Shannon’s eyes and voice and body language told him she couldn’t take Matt’s absence in stride. She was a mother without her child within reach and nothing mattered to her except being able to hold Matt in her arms again.

  He understood why it was that way for her. She—they—had already lost one child. That pain...

  Turning soundlessly in the bed that seemed to have taken on her contours, he repositioned her pillow and pulled in the scent of her shampoo. Her hair was still glorious, rich and healthy. What had she said once when he’d admired it? She couldn’t take credit for its condition and was grateful she’d been blessed with hair that didn’t require a lot of care because she had better things to do with her life than to spend it at a beauty parlor.

  Everything about her was natural, honest.

  Eyes open now, he stared at what he could see of her room.

  While getting ready for bed, he’d paid as little attention as possible to this space that said the most about his ex-wife. Now, caught in that quiet time of night when there was nothing to do except think, his mind drifted back to a time when he’d known, or thought he’d known, the mother of his children.

  She wasn’t the same seventeen-year-old girl he’d fallen in love with all those years ago. Although he missed the quick, shy grin that had first attracted him to her, he had no regrets that she was no longer a teenager. He might regret what they’d lost since that magical first year, but the woman she’d become—

  That woman moved with a deer’s grace, her lean, athletic body challenging him in a way he didn’t want. But want it or not, the fact was, he still physically desired her. His heart might have put love behind it, but his body, his damnable body hadn’t forgotten what it felt like to make love with her.

  What had he called her smile, honest? Her body was the same. Yes, she’d been an uncertain virgin when raging hormones and curiosity and loneliness, at least on his part, had brought them together that first time. But that hadn’t lasted long. Learning together, they’d tasted sensual experiences and, in the tasting, the testing, discovered that they were capable of igniting something in both themselves and each other that he now believed might never be extinguished.

  Seven years after he’d left her bed for the last time, the flame still hadn’t been snuffed out.

  When his jaw started to ache, he realized he’d been clenching his teeth. He forced himself to relax. Once he’d accomplished that, he worked on the rest of his body. Using techniques Gray Cloud had taught him, he visualized every muscle, mentally easing tension out of one after another. He fought to keep his mind clear of any other thought, fought and only partly succeeded. Whenever he slackened his grip, his thoughts went back to her—the woman curled on the couch in the next room.

  She could have taken Matt’s youth bed, a bed the boy was rapidly outgrowing, but for reasons she kept to herself but he could guess, she hadn’t entered their son’s room again. Was she sleeping? He doubted that she had been any more successful at blocking out the world than he had been.

  Only, it wasn’t the world that kept him awake.

  Their missing son was responsible.

  And that son’s mother.

  A woman he’d once loved and made love to like a dying man clinging to life. A woman he’d lost somewhere in the tangle of the past and only wanted to forget.

  Tonight wasn’t for forgetting.

  Instead his body burned and ached and remembered.

  Not a word.

  When the stupid phrase skittered through Shannon’s mind for the umpteenth time, she stretched out her legs until her feet dangled over the arm of the couch, and she stared up at the darkened ceiling.

  She’d managed to fall asleep, but that hadn’t lasted very long. Concern for Matt had been a large chunk of what had awakened her. But Matt Navarro wasn’t any ordinary ten-year-old boy. He was Cord Navarro’s son, an outdoor child who believed night was as fascinating and comfortable as day. Just because she couldn’t hold her son didn’t mean he wasn’t all right. She couldn’t sleep because Cord and she were under the same roof during night’s quiet for the first time in years.

  Of course he was asleep, she told herself a little testily. The experienced tracker knew how to shut off his mind and get the rest he needed. He’d probably trained his mind as thoroughly as he trained his muscular legs and keen eyes and sharp hearing.

  Muscular legs.

  No! That was the problem; she couldn’t stop thinking about his thighs and calves and chest and arms—and the rest of him. Why was be so strong? So physical? So... so primitively masculine?

  A long and not-too-steady sigh escaped her lips. She gave up trying not to think about Cord. He’d always slept on his side; at least he had when he’d been married to her. He seldom moved in his sleep, one of those fascinating/maddening things about him she’d never forgotten. When he wanted her in the middle of the night, he would place his hand lightly over her rib cage and run his forefinger up and down her side until she either responded or turned away from him. Most of the time she’d responded.

  Past tense. Damn it, past tense.

  She hadn’t known anything that first time, not a single solitary thing about what went on between men and women. Oh, yes, like most of her girlfriends, she’d spun fantasies about falling in love, making love. Doing “it.” But those fantasies had had nothing to do with reality.

  Now she knew the reality, and her body refused to forget.

  It had been his hands. In some instinctive way, Cord had known how to take her smoothly and cleanly from virginity to womanhood. He’d come to her as inexperienced as she’d been. Because he’d been a loner, she couldn’t imagine that he’d shared much locker room talk about what girls wanted and expected. She also couldn’t imagine him discussing sex with his grandfather, either. Somehow Cord’s hands had sensed what she’d needed. They’d played her, explored, taught, learned.

  And she’d given herself to him with every fiber of her being.

  A million years ago.

  Before his silence had come betwee
n them.

  Not a word. Don’t forget that. He walked away from you tonight without saying a word.

  Shannon’s eyes felt as if she’d tried to wash them with sandpaper. Stepping out of the shower, she quickly toweled off and slapped a little cream on her face. After throwing on some clothes, she brushed her teeth, trying not to look at Matt’s smaller toothbrush next to hers. The constant sound of rain made her want to climb on the roof and yell at the heavens not to pour down on her son.

  Cord, who’d already used the bathroom, was outside doing whatever it was he needed to. It still wasn’t light enough to see without turning on the bathroom light; at least, normal mortals like herself needed help to see. As for Cord, he’d showered in the dark and then dressed and gone outside without saying a word to her about his plans. He didn’t seem to be hurrying, yet getting ready hadn’t taken him any time at all.

  Had he slept? she asked herself yet again. During those horrible hours while she lay curled up on the couch praying for the night to be over, she’d listened for the sound of Cord’s breathing. She’d heard nothing, but then, he’d slept silently when they were married. Maybe that hadn’t changed.

  Sleep. Had he been capable of shutting off his thoughts so he could go about the vital task of preparing his body for today’s work? If he had, then he indeed lived up to his publicity as the intrepid tracker. But to truly rest, with his son somewhere out there—

  Reminding herself that there was something essential she and Cord had to discuss, she laced her boots and stepped outside. It wasn’t cold. But neither was it as warm as she wanted it to be. As long as she stood on the porch, she could almost convince herself that the rain wasn’t that much of a factor, but the moment she stepped out into it, she was lost.

  Why, Matt? What were you thinking? Does proving yourself to your father really mean this much?

  Cord, wearing a soaked T-shirt that hugged his wonderfully hard and competent body, turned from what he’d been doing at the Jeep. He came toward her with his backpack slung over his shoulder, his eyes steady on her. He looked ready to take on the world one quiet step at a time. Despite the rain and wind, he didn’t so much as blink. The day was gray, dark, making a lie of summer. Cord was part of that world.