Black Hills Native Son: a Hollywood-meets-the-real-wild-west contemporary romance series (Black Hills Rendezvous Book 5)

by Debra Salonen

  “Yeah, yeah. She’ll be fine. They think it was a play for attention. Right, Mom?” he asked Bobbi, who must have been standing nearby.

  Eli wondered what would happen when he broke the news to his estranged family about Damien.

  “Put your mom on.”

  As had been the way throughout most of their marriage, Bobbi spoke, Eli listened. She told him about Sue, who, either accidentally or on purpose, took an overdose of sleeping pills and was in the hospital under a suicide watch.

  She confirmed that Robert’s four children were pretty “freaked out,” as she put it. “I had no idea how much this would impact the kids, Eli. I’m so sorry. When you come back, I think we should try again. For their sakes.”

  The last was the surefire kicker that always got him to do whatever she wanted, even if he wasn’t wild about the idea. Guilt by responsibility.

  What could he say? Sorry, wife and family, I’ve found a new love. Wait. An old love. And a new kid. I don’t need you to make me feel needed and complete.

  “A lot’s happened since I left, Bobbi. There isn’t going to be a quick and easy fix.”

  Not the answer his wife had been expecting. Eli could tell by the chilly silence that followed. “You’ve only been gone, like, five days, Eli. What does that mean?”

  “It means I can’t picture us picking up again like nothing happened.” He told her about Char and Damien as dispassionately as possible.

  “Char Jones? I’ve seen her around Lower Brule. She has funny colored hair and dresses like a wannabe squaw,” she said, using the derogatory word universally hated by Native American women. I can’t believe you slept with her.”

  In high school and a lot more recently. A lot more recently. “Well, apparently, I did. One look at Damien and you know he’s my kid, but we’ve already taken a DNA test to confirm it.”

  She made a keening sound. “E.J.’s going to be devastated, Eli. He already blames himself for this mess. First, that stupid test blows our marriage out of the water, and now you find out you have a kid with Char Jones. How do you think he’s going to take it if you come back with another kid to replace him? Your real son. Good grief, Eli, are you trying to drive him over the edge?”

  He sat on the bed, not trusting his legs to support him. He honestly hadn’t given his children’s reaction to this a great deal of thought. But there was no putting this genie back in the bottle. Somehow they’d all have to get through the rough times ahead.

  “What did you expect me to do, Bobbi? Pretend the kid didn’t exist?”

  “No, but you damn well don’t have to bring him back with you. And what about this Char person? Are you involved with her? Have you always had feeling for her—even when you said you were in love with me?”

  Eli closed his eyes. He hated this side of Bobbi’s personality. Not that she was always self-absorbed, but given the barest hint of a slight against her and she took to chest pounding indignation.

  “I barely knew her in high school. I’m not proud that I had sex with her on the night before my wedding, but it happened. Now I have a kid who doesn’t know me, but he has my blood running through his veins. That means he’s a half- brother to our daughters and a step-brother to E.J. He’s also in trouble. I’m meeting with the local D.A. in a couple of hours to try to figure out some deal to get Damien a second chance.”

  He paused, then forged on. “If they let me take him out of the state and he comes home with me, you and E.J. and the girls are going to have to work out some kind of relationship with him. Period.”

  Bobbi remained quiet so long Eli thought they’d lost their connection. Then she said, “Wow, you left home and grew a pair.” Instead of snide, her tone was surprised…and a little sad. “Just my luck. You became the man I wanted you to be after I broke up with you.”

  Eli shook his head. “I’m the same person I always was, Bobbi. Your problem is the grass always looks greener on the other side of the fence, and frankly I’m tired of constantly mending that fence.”

  He could tell by her silence that she understood exactly what he meant. “Do you want me to tell the kids about Damien? Or do you want to surprise them?”

  This time she sounded snide.

  “Your call,” he said. “You’ll do whatever is best for you, Bobbi. I’m confident of that.”

  “That was uncalled-for, Eli. I made a mistake. Maybe I just wanted more than you could give me. I wanted to be the center of somebody’s universe. Is that wrong?”

  Eli didn’t want to get into mutual recriminations. “We both made mistakes.”

  “And now you have somebody else in your life. Funny how fast that happened, isn’t it? Maybe too fast. Maybe whatever you feel for Char is tied to this boy, who psychologically might be a replacement for E.J. Is Char a replacement for me? She doesn’t have to be, Eli. I’ll be waiting here to start over, if you want to try.”

  He didn’t reply. He had feelings for Char. Strong, complex feelings, different from anything he ever felt before. But everything between then was new and wobbly and awkwardly linked to a boy who needed them to act like adults and put his needs first. It seemed crazy to think that Eli could make any kind of a life with Char given their past. Was hot sex and a child neither of them had raised a valid basis for a lasting relationship? If he returned home—to an apologetic wife and three upset children, would the emasculated alter-ego Bobbi had so little respect for—Mr. Responsibility—take over?

  He didn’t know.

  “Change isn’t necessarily a bad thing, Bobbi. Somebody told me truth and honesty are always the best in the long run—even if they suck right now.”

  “How profound,” she said snottily. “E.J.’s back. Do you want to tell him goodbye?”

  He started to agree, but a beep told him a second call was coming in. This one, he could tell from the area code, was local. “Sorry, Bobbi. I have another call. I’ll keep you posted on what’s happening here. Tell E.J. it was good to hear his voice.”

  She made a rude sound and the line went dead. Eli hit the receive button. As he listened to Damien’s mother, he walked to the desk beside the overstuffed chair and switched on the lamp. Pulling a sheet of paper from the drawer, he jotted down directions. He had a meeting in twenty minutes with Wanda’s husband and the District Attorney.

  Char was glad to leave the hospital. The long day had taken a toll. She’d decided there was a surreal sense of disconnect that came from being inside a hospital. Days could have passed for all she knew.

  “Thanks for bringing back the car in one piece,” she said, getting in the driver’s seat. “My insurance company thanks you, too.”

  Eli scowled at her. She liked his scowl. How demented was that?

  He stalked around the car and got in. “I told you my insurance is paid up and valid. The only reason I didn’t rent the damn car was that my uncle kept my credit card.”

  That was why she’d agreed to let him drive to the meeting with the lawyer and find them a motel room. She was teasing. He usually got her humor. The fact that he was testy and defensive told her something was going on. The nervous feeling in her stomach returned.

  “Which way?” she asked, starting the engine.

  “Go back to the main road and head south. The hospital gets a cut rate with a place in Carmel.”

  “Cool. I’ve always wanted to visit there. That’s were Clint Eastwood lives, I think.”

  He snapped his seatbelt into place then slouched like a sulky teen. Actually, he looked a lot like the kid she’d just left in the hospital bed. She couldn’t help but smile.

  “So how’d the meeting go? Wanda didn’t say much.” Damien’s mother had arrived to relieve Char a few minutes earlier but had seemed a bit evasive when Char asked the same question of her.

  “Fine. We’re all on the same page. Even the Assistant D.A. in charge of Damien’s case seems to want what’s best for Damien.”

  “So they’re not going to charge him?”

  He didn’t answer right
away. He sat forward as if worried that she wouldn’t be able to merge onto the road without his help. Odd, she thought. He hadn’t second-guessed her driving the entire trip down Highway 101 from San Francisco.

  Once the car was up to speed, she glanced at him. “Well?”

  He was still frowning. “Apparently California is in the middle of some really intense budget problems. Jails are full and they’ve had to cut juvenile programs. The D.A. was open to other options.”

  He motioned for her to take the next exit. Ocean Avenue. She liked the sound of that.

  “The Johnsons made it clear that they didn’t think Damien should walk away from this scot-free. They felt that would send the wrong message to Damien’s friends and siblings. Plus, without some sort of counseling or probation with community service, nothing would change for Damien.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “We agreed the best thing was for him to finish school. And to complete a drug and alcohol program and get regular urine tests to make sure he’s not using.”

  She made the turn. There was quite a bit of traffic, but she wasn’t stressed since Eli was navigating. “Damien told me doesn’t do drugs,” she said. “He only sold them to make enough money to leave.”

  “Three blocks ahead on the left.”

  She glanced sideways. His tone wasn’t exactly condescending but she could tell he thought she was being naïve. “You don’t believe him?”

  “In my job, I’ve learned that most drug users are also very skilled liars.”

  “You think our son is a drug addict and a liar?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know him well enough to say. Neither do you.”

  She disagreed but kept her opinion to herself until they were parked in front of a lovely, upscale motel with some of the most beautiful landscaping she’d ever seen. She turned off the engine and removed the key from the ignition then turned to look at Eli. The fuchsias could wait. Something was wrong.

  “What’s going on?”

  Eli unsnapped his seat belt. “I cut a deal. Maybe not the right one, but I didn’t feel like I had a lot of options. Damien broke the law and got in a fight while in the holding cell. He’s almost eighteen. Worst case scenario, they charge him as an adult and he does six months or more with some very unsavory types. Neither of us wants that, right?”

  She shook her head. “Of course not, but you said the D.A. isn’t going that route.”

  “Because I gave him an option. I asked if they’d consider letting me take him back to South Dakota if I agreed to become his legal guardian.”

  That made sense, she figured. Even though Damien would turn eighteen in a few months, in the meantime, it was probably smart to put someone in charge.

  “The D.A. liked the fact that I have a background in law enforcement and have a teenage son of my own.”

  Have, not had, as he’d said earlier. “Where do I fit in?”

  When he didn’t answer right away, her heart stopped beating. “Eli? Tell me you didn’t cut a deal that cut me out of the picture.”

  “Char, you said yourself you have no experience with teenage boys.”

  “I’m his mother, Eli. You wouldn’t even know he existed if not for me. And now you’re telling me that because you have a tin star and a y-chromosome you’re the best choice to care for this unhappy, messed up kid.”

  “You think he wasn’t doing drugs. You want to coddle him. Be the mother you never got to be. He’d trample all over you, Char. Right now, he needs a father.”

  “That’s bullshit, Eli. But even if it were true, why does it have to be one way or the other? Why can’t we do this together?”

  Another long pause. One that told her they couldn’t resolve this sitting in a freakin’ car. She opened the door. “Did you get us one room or two?”

  He looked at her sharply. “One.” He got out, too. “Second floor. Overlooks the flower garden.”

  She followed him with a growing sense of loss. She wished there was some way to avoid whatever bad news he was about to tell her. Food. Alcohol. Sex. Anything to delay the inevitable.

  Am I my mother’s daughter or what?

  The cackling mirthful response she expected didn’t come. “Well…,” she prompted her subconscious.

  Eli paused to look over his shoulder at her. “Well what?”

  “Nothing,” she muttered. “Did you say this place had a hot tub?”

  “A sauna. Over there.”

  A quaint blue and red sign hung from the door of the windowless white building that looked as if it might have been a garden shack in an earlier life. “After sitting in a germy hospital all day, I think I’d like to sweat out a bunch of impurities before dinner,” she said. “Out with the old, in with the new.”

  To her surprise, Eli didn’t argue. Maybe he wasn’t looking forward to hashing out the flaws in his plan any more than she was. Or maybe he was a coward, too.

  “The guy who checked me in said they leave robes and disposable slippers in the rooms for guests,” he told her after opening the door for her to enter first. “There are supposed to be towels in the sauna room.”

  She kicked off her shoes and faked a smile. “Sounds like a plan. Are you coming?”

  She didn’t expect him to say yes. But once again, Eli surprised her.

  “My last sweat lodge was…um…interesting. Yeah, I’m in.”

  Chapter 13

  “Can you believe this weather?” she asked, grabbing at any conversational straw to ease the tension between them. They’d barely said a word since he returned from the front desk.

  Eli acknowledged her question with a grunt much like the one she remembered from that first day when he showed up at her shop. So much had changed, and yet nothing had.

  She clutched the two halves of her robe closer to her throat. She knew it was silly to act overly modest after the intimacy they’d shared the night before, but the fact that he’d made plans for Damien without including her meant they weren’t together. Not really. That was why she had a large, white bath towel in place under her robe.

  Eli had reserved the sauna and gone over the operating instructions with the desk clerk while she took a shower. He still hadn’t returned by the time she dried off and faced herself in the steamy mirror, so she’d used the opportunity to ask a few hard questions. Like, what did her son see when he looked at her? A quirky, interesting person who he’d like to know better? Or a kook trying to look quirky and interesting?

  It even crossed her mind to buy a box of hair dye the next chance she got and return her multi-colored locks to their original hue, if she could remember what her natural color was.

  “Ooh, cedar,” she said, inhaling deeply as she crossed the threshold of the building. The structure that housed the sauna was larger than it appeared from the outside. There was a chair and narrow table along one wall. Hooks on the opposite wall offered fluffy white towels.

  The walls were a soft blue—a color matched by the sky visible through a skylight that put the one in her shop to shame. The glass and cedar sauna unit glowed invitingly. Two white mats were already in place on the bench seat and the digital thermometer claimed the interior temperature was one hundred and fourteen degrees.

  “Would you lock—” She dropped the rest of her question when she saw him slide a metal lever into place. “Thanks.”

  She slipped off her robe and hung it on a hook above the table, which was stocked with bottles of water and magazines. “Man, they really think of everything.” She helped herself to a bottle and backed out of one-size-fits-all flip-flops she’d found in their room. “Here goes nothing.”

  Or everything, Eli thought as he watched her step into the ultra-modern sauna. He’d never seen the type that used panels in the wall instead of hot rocks and water to create the heat, but the liability release sheet he’d signed had included an informational brochure about the unit. The infrared application sounded highly therapeutic.

  But could it fix the problem between him and Char?
He doubted it.

  He hung up his robe beside hers then wrapped a towel around his waist. He hadn’t been surprised by Char’s newfound modesty. She was certainly intuitive enough to sense the divide between them. He felt torn in two. And he didn’t really like either half of himself.

  He slipped inside the brightly lit cedar box and sat on the folded towel a foot to Char’s left. She had her eyes closed and appeared to be doing some deep breathing techniques. His gaze lingered over the swell of her bosom above the white towel.

  What a jerk! Even with his life in the throes of chaos and upheaval, he wanted her. Even knowing he couldn’t promise her squat and might wind up hurting her more than he had in the past, he wanted her.

  He squeezed his eyes tight, but blocking one sense only made him more aware of others. He inhaled deeply to take in the smell of her skin. Soap and something he couldn’t quite pin down. Jasmine? Did he even know what jasmine smelled like?

  “So, you arranged for Damien to walk away with a Get-Out-of-Jail-Free card, huh?”

  He sat a little straighter, his gaze going to a tiny smudge on the glass door in front of him. “Apparently the state is open to creative ways of cutting their losses where minor offenders are concerned.”

  “That’s good. For Damien, I mean. Will this go on his record?”

  He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, weaving his fingers together. The heat felt good but it didn’t seem to be sinking in fast enough. In his hazy memory of that night with his uncle, the burning, acrid taste of hot steam had penetrated deep under his skin to short circuit his brain. Either that or he’d actually experienced an honest-to-goodness vision.

  He recalled the chipper, valiant, little black and white bird that had seemed so sure of itself.

  “Eli?”

  He blinked as a bead of sweat ran down the side of his face. “Um…sorry. I zoned out a minute. I don’t know all the particulars. The D.A.’s office is working on it. Damien and I will both have to sign it, then have it approved by a judge, I believe.”