“Kwe...” He laced his fingers around her long nails and caressed them.
“The workshop. Stay focused on it.” Her fingers stiffened in his palm.
“I will.” He kept stroking her nails. “Your ol’ man doesn’t say much to me. Doesn’t even look at me when he speaks, but he looks at everyone else.”
“Never mind Dad. He’s being... Dad.” Bridget’s nose wrinkled. “There’s a lot you can learn from the workshop. And what you learn, Kyle’ll benefit from.”
“You miss him? I do. I won’t see him until next Wednesday.”
Bridget sipped the iced tea. “I always miss him. I’ll miss him...” She glanced to a tree. “I came to speak to you about the Kabatay family.”
That was why she’d sought him out? To lecture him about big bad Clayton and his trouble-making sister? “I know all about them. Darryl already told me.” The words came out gruff.
“So you know Darryl sided with them at one time?”
“Yeah.”
“They try to turn whoever they can against the church.” Bridget’s voice juddered.
Anger brewed in Adam’s chest. “Are we ever gonna talk about what we did last night?”
Bridget fingered the cup she held. “Now’s not the time...”
“When’s it ever gonna be the right time?” Aww, screw this. Ten bucks she was having regrets. “This is about Kyle, isn’t it? Thought you could soften me up? Maybe trick me into giving you my kid? Listen good—”
“How dare you!” Bridget yanked her hand free and stood. Rage pounded behind her flashing dark eyes. “How dare you accuse me of selling myself to get a child.”
She thrust her finger at him. “What kind of a person do you think I am? If I wanted to manipulate our situation to have Kyle, I could’ve done that when you told him you’d be here for the week.”
She was a car ready to peel out and race off.
Adam rose and snatched her wrist.
“Let. Go. Of. Me.”
The tone of her words slapped his face. “Easy...”
Chapter Twenty-five: All for You
Bridget’s heart continued to thunder. Adam was touching her. Not touching. Gripping. The power in his big hand and the scent of his masculinity was enough to weaken the rage bubbling through her blood.
She turned to meet delicious heat flickering in Adam’s eyes. Yes, she’d sought him out to give warning about the Kabatay family, but she’d also come because, well, she couldn’t stay away. Not after last evening and what they’d done only a few feet from where they stood now.
Gosh, what a mess. They had too many strikes against them. If Mrs. Dale found out, the cranky social worker would assign Kyle to another foster parent.
When Adam coaxed Bridget into his arms, his strong fingers still draping her wrist, she leaned into his chest. He swathed her in a reassuring embrace scented with his manly aroma and smooth skin.
“What’re we going to do?” she muttered into his shirt. The steam of her breath heated her lips, and the warmth of his flesh heated her face.
He petted the back of Bridget’s neck. “We’ll figure something out. Darryl said the purpose of Children and Family Services is to reunite families.”
Bridget shivered. Could she allow them to become a family again?
“I wanna see you tonight... after the meeting.” Adam’s voice was a husky whisper. “Darryl’s letting me use his four-wheeler.”
Not since Bridget was a teenager, visiting her family for the weekend, had she snuck from the house by tiptoeing out the front door because she’d bunked on the pull-out in the living room.
Excitement shimmered along Bridget’s arms and neck. “What time does the meeting end?”
“Nine. They’re an hour long.”
“Mom and Dad’ll still be up.” Bridget should feel insulted about having to sneak out to meet Adam, but the excitement kept fluttering in her belly.
“What time do they turn in?”
“Around ten. Dad does his Office of Hours, and Mom prays the Rosary.”
“Then we’ll meet at ten. I’ll be waiting outside the house.”
Adam was right. They needed to talk. Already, they’d had one misunderstanding moments earlier. A good talk might clear the air.
* * * *
Adam sat at the oblong table inside the recovery center. The place had been perfect for having a meeting. Big leather chairs. Oak table with a finished black top. Plenty of refreshments. They’d completed a story and were ready to take a break before moving on to the discussion, where everyone had a chance to speak about what was read. Or anyone was welcome to speak about whatever was on their minds.
He stood to refill his coffee. The other six members also rose to either use the washroom or stretch their legs.
Raven sat at the head of the table, having chaired the meeting. She sashayed to the coffee counter. Adam followed.
“Need a refill?” She held the pot.
“Yeah.” He set his mug on the counter. No paper cups here. It’d been a wind-in-his-hair ride to the main section of the reserve everyone referred to as downtown. Too bad he couldn’t live up here.
“What’re you doing after the meeting?” Raven also refilled her coffee.
“Busy.” Adam blew on the steaming liquid and started outside. The squeak of Raven’s flip-flops sounded on the floor. She was probably going to have a cigarette, too.
Back in Winnipeg, they’d never been into each other sexually. He’d had a girlfriend, and Raven had been Sully’s woman, so she couldn’t be hinting around for some action. She was a staunch traditionalist and probably planned to get on his case again about what he owed to the Anishinaabeg.
He set his mug on the railing of the small deck and withdrew his cigarettes. “You guys gonna be outside the church tomorrow?”
“Yeppers.” Raven leaned in to the lighter. She set the tip of her smoke in the flickering flame and puffed.
“I’m gonna go ahead and ask.” Maybe if Adam poked around, she’d finally relent after being able to speak her piece. “You got a problem with the Matawapits?”
“Do you?” Raven’s grin was slyer than the bird she was named after. “I can’t see the deacon and his wife opening their arms to a man like you.”
Boy, she’d hit a home run. “No problem on my end.”
“I have nothing against them personally. What I don’t care for is the way they promote a place that harmed our people. They think they can erase everything through these workshops by reconciling the traditional and Christian communities.”
“You always feel this way? Even in the ‘Peg?”
Red dusted Raven’s super-high cheekbones. “You know damn well what my priority was at the time.”
“Look, we both got our own things going. I wanna get my boy back.”
“And what about the rest of our people who’re still suffering?”
“Who says I ain’t helping? I’m here, aren’t I? I’m also helping a buddy back home.”
“He getting clean?”
“Yeah. He’s a good kid. Having a tough go at sobriety. Got a lot of strikes against him.”
“You’re his sponsor?” She gasped.
“We’re not supposed to talk about who we’re sponsoring or who our sponsors are.”
“I get it. He’s doing okay then? Getting an education and whatnot?”
“Right now he’s trying to stay clean. He can think about his education when he’s got his head sorted out. What about you?”
“I’m going for my grade twelve. Now that there’s a new principal here, I signed up for the adult education classes in the evening.”
It figured Raven wouldn’t have gone near the school when Deacon Matawapit had been the principal, before Bridget’s father had retired.
“I hope your sponsee does well. Do you see what I mean now? I bet the Indian Residential Schools affected him, too.”
Adam stiffened. Raven was right. Logan’s father was Métis. Cutter’s family had also attended the sc
hool. Because of what the government and Catholic Church had done, Sheena was dead. And Logan was close to... well, he’d better keep his nose clean while Adam was up at the reserve.
“See? I’m making sense. First time I saw you crack your poker face.” Raven smirked.
This time Adam schooled his features. He must’ve shown some kind of reaction to earn that observation from Raven. Shit, he’d been away from gangbanging and the iron house for too long. Being on the outside and living a normal life was making him react... normally.
“Hey, I give you props. Won’t deny it. Those schools caused a lot of trouble for some.”
“Just some?” Raven wrinkled her eyebrows.
“Well, they’re some who aren’t doing too bad.”
“You mean the Matawapits.” Raven sneered.
“I’m only stating what I see.”
“Remember, their mother never attended one of those schools. Because of her, she was able to keep the family together. How’d you think their kids would’ve turned out if the deacon’s wife was Anishinaabe-kwe and had been forced into that school? It was Maria Matawapit’s religion that caused all of these problems.”
“I won’t argue that. The deacon’s wife probably had a lot to do with the way their kids turned out.”
“Then you understand my point. If both parents attended, what chance did the kids stand?”
“I don’t know the reserve well enough to answer. Are you telling me every single one of these families suffered?”
Raven glanced away.
“Well?”
“Jenny and Mark Fiddler.”
“They both attended the school?”
“No. But Jenny’s parents and grandparents did. Jenny and Mark are members of the church. Sadie and Allen Meekis are Jenny’s grandparents. They’re traditional.”
Huh? Their granddaughter was a hard-core Catholic, but the grandparents were traditional? Adam had never heard of that before. “What about Jenny’s parents?”
“Her dad died when she was a baby. He was working in the bush. A widow maker got him. He was dead as soon as the tree fell on him. Jenny’s mother raised Jenny and her brother after their dad died. She passed away when Jenny was twelve. Complications from diabetes.”
Raven took a drag on the cigarette. “There we go. Another big problem caused by our government and the church. If we would’ve been allowed to eat traditional food instead of what was forced down our throats, the aboriginal people wouldn’t be suffering from diabetes. It’s like an epidemic on the reserves. You either have it, or you know someone who has it.”
“What’s stopping people from eating traditional foods now?” Adam glanced around at nothing but trees and nature.
“You gotta be kidding.” Raven sniggered. “Do you really think the puny bit of land the government forced us to use as a reserve provides enough wild game to feed two thousand people? It’s why we used to have summer and winter camps. So we didn’t over-hunt the area.
“Lots of people still hunt, fish, and trap, but we also have to supplement our food with the white man’s meat sold at the Northern Lights Store, which costs an arm and a leg. A lot of people can’t afford fresh meat or vegetables. They buy cheap junk to feed their families. Welcome to the north, city boy.”
Man, Raven had a sarcastic mouth. “I get it.”
“There aren’t enough jobs on the reserve to afford high-priced food, either. Even the deacon’s precious son doesn’t have a job. Darryl supports them.”
That was also true. Emery did a lot of volunteer work.
“If you don’t work for the band, you get minimum pay jobs from the hotel, the restaurant, the Northern Lights store...” Raven scowled. “I’m glad Cookie hired me on as a waitress. He owns Kiss the Cook. It’s the only restaurant. Downtown. Where everyone gathers.”
Adam flicked his cigarette butt. Talk about having his eyes opened. Seemed urban natives weren’t the only ones suffering.
Maybe Raven was right. What could Adam do about the problem? Sure, he was trying his best to help the addicts and alcoholics in the city and had also signed on to the committee to investigate Sheena’s death, but maybe he should be doing something more.
* * * *
Bridget had gone to Emery’s old room the same time her parents had turned in. Thirty-six and sneaking out the window. She giggled. Her decision was for the best. If Mom and Dad knew she was meeting Adam, they’d disapprove.
She didn’t want to spend her night arguing. She’d rather spend the evening with Adam. When the rumble of the four-wheeler carried into the open window, she winced. What if Mom and Dad thought Darryl or Emery were stopping by? Bridget should have told Adam she’d meet him down the road.
If she waited ten minutes, Mom and Dad might believe someone was passing by. Darryl wasn’t the only one who owned a quad.
Bridget sat on the bed and crossed her fingers in hopes Adam wouldn’t assume she’d changed her mind.
Once ten minutes had passed, Bridget eased out the window and darted around the side of the house. As she hurried down the driveway and along the road, she kept her hands out, hoping not to crash into or trip over something.
She made out the silhouette of the four-wheeler. The glowing red ember of the cigarette guided her to Adam.
“Wasn’t sure if you were gonna be able to get away or not.” Adam’s voice was the deep, easy essence that always trailed Bridget’s skin.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” She stood at the machine, taking in his fresh scent that matched the aroma of the grass.
“No problem. I would’ve waited all night.” He stuck the cigarette between his lips. “Get on.”
“And if I didn’t make it?” Heat flickered between Bridget’s legs as she slid onto the back of the quad. Her thighs hugged Adam’s strong legs, and her stomach pressed against his solid back.
“I woulda come to you. Snuck in your window.” He snickered.
She swatted his arm. “My parents would’ve had a fit.”
“Y’know, kwe, I take it you’ve done this before. Should I be jealous?”
“No need for jealousy. He’s married now.”
“Oh, he is? Who is he?”
“It doesn’t matter, you’re...” Her heart swelled. You’re the man for me. Oh God, how true. She’d finally admitted the truth to herself.
“I’m what?” Adam fired up the machine.
Thank goodness for the roaring rumble of the engine, but Adam might as well have set off a stick of dynamite with the noise the quad made in the silent of the night.
“Let’s go. Fast.” She smacked his back.
“You’re the boss.” Adam revved the throttle, and they took off down the road. “Where to? It’s your rez, not mine.”
They had to find a quiet place where nobody ventured. Church Road. Just off of the road they were on now. The big old tree overhanging the lake was the perfect spot. “Go to the church.”
“The church? Seriously?” he hollered over the roar of the engine.
This time of year was perfect at the reserve. Minimal bugs. The nights warm but not hot. They could stretch out on the grass once they were done talking on the tree.
Bridget laid her head on Adam’s shoulder. For such a big, strong man, there was so much warmth coming from his flesh, and his exposed skin was a smooth as silk. She palmed his flat stomach. His abs contracted beneath her touch, so she nuzzled the back of his neck.
“Woman, you’d better be ready to finish what you’re starting back there,” he said, glancing over his shoulder.
“Hmm... keep driving. Like you said, I’m the boss.”
* * * *
Silver light from the full moon lit the lake to deep blue. Water lapped against the rocky shoreline. Frogs and bugs chirped and sang. They provided a great soundtrack to a quiet night alone with the woman Adam loved.
“I can’t believe you never officially lived here.” If Adam had been born at Ottertail Lake, he wouldn’t have left.
&nb
sp; “My life was in the city.” Bridget’s long legs dangled from the massive branch overhanging the lake. “At the time, it was too... uh... bush for me.”
“Bush?”
“Yes. Bush. When Mom and Dad returned here, the rez didn’t have hydro. Or a sewage system. They had running water, but nowhere for the water to go. Mom set up a small toilet for Emery to use because he was only eight at the time. For Dad, it was the outhouse.”
“Outhouse?” Adam lit his cigarette. Was his home reserve the same way?
“They bathed in a big gray tub every Sunday and Wednesday night. It was the norm up here.”
“When’d they finally get to live like normal people?”
“The sewer lines were installed when Emery started high school... I think.”
“Yeah, can’t see you bathing twice a week or using an outside shitter.” Adam snickered. Sure enough, his comment earned his arm a cuff.
“I don’t mind camping, but I prefer a place with showers and bathrooms.”
“Like Sleeping Giant Park?” Adam’s insides warmed. It’d been a great camping trip, the three of them snuggled in a tent together.
“You didn’t do too shabby for a city boy. I wasn’t sure if you’d know how to start a fire.”
“Common sense.” Adam shrugged. “You can’t start a log on fire. Need something to get it going first and build it from there.”
“I guess that’s what kept you alive on the streets, hmm?” Bridget’s hand rested on the thick branch.
“You know this kept me alive.” He curled his fingers into a fist.
“You don’t anymore.” Her voice dropped an octave to the same tone when, in a non-judgmental way, she’d coaxed Adam to speak about his feelings. “How’d the meeting go?”
“Like any other meeting.” Adam couldn’t disclose who’d been present. Anonymity was imperative. “At the end of each month, they have an open meeting.”
“They do?” Bridget fidgeted. “I’m in.”
“You wanna go this time?” She’d never gone before, opting to stay with Kyle. Adam’s breathing hitched. She did want this as bad as he did.
Redeemed Page 22
