Warrior's Embrace

by Peggy Webb

  He spread the blanket on the ground, and there on the mountain with the sun bathing them in a glow that looked like fire, they became creatures of the earth, primitive and wild.

  Time and place were lost to Virginia. For her there was nothing except sensation... the texture of him, the clean smell, the sharp, sweet taste.

  The ancient words poured from him, part poetry, part passion, and they became lost in time.

  Their journey lasted far into the night. And when it was over, Bolton wrapped her in his blanket and carried her inside the tepee.

  Virginia was instantly asleep. When she woke up, Bolton was sitting cross-legged on the blanket watching her.

  “Did you sleep well, Virginia?”

  “I didn’t move.” She arched herself in a long, luxurious stretch. “It must be the mountain air. I need to bottle it and take it back home.”

  “Could it be more than the mountain air, Virginia?”

  His voice was full of laughter, and she laughed with him.

  Yes, it was more than the mountain air. The peace she felt, the contentment, the absolute rightness of the thing, was due to Bolton.

  “How would you like to catch your breakfast?” he said.

  “Catch my breakfast?”

  “Fish, Virginia.”

  She clapped her hands. “I haven’t been fishing in... well, too long to remember.”

  The stream was crystal clear, and they spent all morning laughing and angling.

  “Are you sure these fish know they’re supposed to be breakfast?” she said.

  “Maybe they misunderstood,” he said. “Maybe they thought I said lunch.”

  “Or dinner.”

  “Where’s your faith?”

  “Not in my fishing pole, that’s for sure.” Virginia held up a pole with a line so tangled that only the most determined fish could be snared.

  Bolton untangled her line, then showed her how to cast, and on the first try she got a strike. With his help she reeled it in.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said.

  “It’s breakfast,” he said. “We’ll clean it and smoke it over a fire.” He pulled a lethal-looking knife from his belt.

  “You’re going to use that on my fish?” She looked stricken.

  “You like fish, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but I’ve never killed the poor thing first.” She rubbed the shiny scales. “Poor Ernestine.”

  “Ernestine?”

  “Yes. Her name is Ernestine, and she probably has a family down there somewhere.”

  Bolton unsnagged the fish then held it under the water and released it.

  “There you go, Ernestine,” he said. “Swim back to your family.”

  With a swish of its tail, Ernestine was gone. If there had ever been any doubt in Virginia’s mind that she loved Bolton, it was gone.

  When he stood up and saw her tears, he tenderly wiped them away.

  “Don’t cry. She’s going to be all right.”

  “I’m not crying for her, I’m crying because that was one of the sweetest, kindest acts I’ve ever seen. You really are the most wonderful man I’ve ever known, Bolton Gray Wolf.”

  If it wasn’t the three words he wanted to hear, it was close enough. Joy filled Bolton, and a sense of coming down the homestretch with the finish line in sight.

  “You’re just saying that because I’m going to share my breakfast bar with you.” He pulled one out of his pocket and broke it in half.

  “You had this all along?”

  “Yes. I’m always prepared.” He unfolded a blanket from his pack and spread it near the stream. “The orchestra is tuning up, and we have the best seats in the house.”

  With the music of birds and the music of the stream playing haunting melodies, they shared breakfast and then themselves. Afterward Virginia lay with her head on his chest looking up at the branches swaying overhead.

  “I could get used to this.”

  “It’s yours, Virginia. All you have to do is say yes.”

  She rolled to her elbows so she could see his eyes.

  “Please be patient with me, Bolton. I’m out of practice at this business of listening to my heart.”

  “Take all the time you need, Virginia. These mountains aren’t going anywhere, and neither am I.”

  They lolled beside the stream until hunger drove them back to their campsite, and in the light of a sunset so perfect, Virginia said it had to be a creation of Walt Disney, they ate canned beans then made slow, exquisite love on Bolton’s blanket of many colors.

  When she fell asleep, Virginia knew that she would be a fool to continue denying that what they had was true love. Tomorrow she would say yes.

  o0o

  The sound of pounding hooves woke Bolton. He eased out of the blanket, careful not to wake Virginia, and slipped into his buckskins. Through the flap of his tepee he could see his sister’s horse topping the rise. Cold fear gripped him. Callie would never have interrupted his idyll with Virginia unless there was an emergency.

  Bolton caught the reins as she slid from the saddle.

  “What’s wrong, Callie?”

  “I don’t know.” She raked her hand through her windswept hair. “Mom, Dad, everybody’s okay. It’s not our family.”

  “Virginia’s daughter?” He gripped his sister’s arm. “Not Virginia’s daughter.”

  “No, she’s all right. She called early this morning.” Callie reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “But she gave me this number. She said it was very important that Virginia call.”

  “Did she say what it’s about?”

  “No. She didn’t give me a clue. I’m not even sure that she knows.”

  “How did she sound? Upset? Scared?”

  “No. That was the strange thing. She just said that it was very important for Virginia to call as soon as possible.”

  The tent flap opened, and Virginia stepped outside.

  “Did I hear my name?”

  “Virginia.” Bolton wrapped his arm around her waist. “I want you to meet my sister Callie.”

  Virginia looked into eyes as blue as Bolton’s, at a face with the same high cheekbones and generous mouth, hair equally as untamed and black as a raven’s wing. Bolton’s counterpart in every way, Callie Gray Wolf simply took Virginia’s breath away.

  “I’m speechless,” she said.

  Callie laughed. “Most people are. They don’t expect two peas in a pod.” She laughed again. “That’s my Mississippi heritage coming through.”

  “I’m delighted to meet you.” Virginia held out her hand.

  Callie took it in a warm and firm grip. “Same here. You’re everything Bolton said you were.”

  “I’m afraid Callie came bearing news,” Bolton said, handing Virginia the piece of paper. “Candace says it’s important for you to call that number as soon as possible.”

  Virginia looked at the paper, and her brow knit in a small frown.

  “I don’t have any earthly idea whose number this is.”

  “I’ll ride with you back to the house,” Bolton said.

  “No.” Virginia said. “I don’t want to take you away from this beautiful place. Why don’t I ride back down with Callie?”

  “You need me to show you the way back,” he said.

  “I’m no hothouse flower, Bolton. Once I ride a trail, I can follow it again in the dark. Besides, it might be nice if Callie comes back for lunch.” She smiled at Bolton’s sister. “You like beans in a can, don’t you?”

  “Is that all he’s giving you?” Callie blurted out, then blushed at her own question.

  Virginia and Bolton smiled at each other. Then he pulled her close and kissed her. “Come back to me, Virginia.”

  “I will,” she whispered. “Wait for me.”

  FOURTEEN

  Callie and Virginia should have been back hours ago. Bolton tried not to think the worst.

  “Girl talk,” he said. “That’s what they’re doing.”

  He kn
ew his sister. Her natural curiosity bordered on nosiness. She’d be bound to extract every bit of information out of Virginia that she possibly could. Combine that with her spontaneity and knack for adventure, and he never knew what to expect. They could be off exploring one of the canyons, or Callie could have decided to take Virginia up in Bolton’s plane for an aerial tour of the million plus acres of tribal land.

  He made himself listen to the murmur of the wind through the trees and the far-off call of a hawk. He made himself sit quietly beside the campfire and reach within himself for peace and assurance.

  The sound of hooves brought him to his feet. A paint topped the rise, bearing a dark-haired rider. He strained his eyes for Virginia, but in his heart he knew she was not there. He’d heard the sound of only one horse. Besides, Callie would never have left Virginia so far behind, especially not in the dark.

  “Bolton.” Callie was out of the saddle before the horse came to a complete stop. “I tried to stop her, but she wouldn’t listen.”

  “Where’s Virginia?”

  Callie pressed a piece of paper into his hand.

  “Read it, and then I’ll try to explain.” He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. “Just read it, Bolton!”

  He sat beside the fire, using the flames to illuminate Virginia’s note.

  “Dearest Bolton,” she’d written. “How can I say this without breaking your heart and mine? How can I tell you good-bye?”

  He closed his eyes. Reading the note was anti-climactic. One hour after Virginia rode off, he knew she was not coming back. A sense of loss had swept over him.

  With hearts and bodies so a-tuned, it was not unusual for the minds to be intertwined. Especially writers. Sensitive to a degree that most people never understand, they can read the mind with a single glance. They can probe the mind from a distance in ways that remain mysterious even to them.

  Bolton knew these things. And yet he’d denied his instincts. Instead of leaping on his horse and racing down the mountain after her as his intuition told him to do, he’d stayed on the mountain telling himself he was being overly protective and foolish.

  A cloud came over the moon, extinguishing all light. Bolton held the note closer to the fire.

  “Please understand that I have no choice, that I only do what I think is best, what I know is best. Someday you will understand. Someday you will thank me for the decision I’ve made. Bolton, my dearest love... please forgive me.”

  He folded the note and stuffed it into his pocket.

  “What happened?” he said.

  “I don’t really know. I waited at the paddock while she went inside to make the phone call. She was pale when she came out. I asked was anything wrong, and she said she couldn’t talk about it.”

  Callie plopped beside the fire and hooked her arm through Bolton’s.

  “She asked me to take her to the airport.”

  “You took her to the airport!”

  “Believe me, Bolton, I didn’t want to. I argued that she should talk to you first, that you’d be happy to take her, but she was adamant.” Callie blinked back tears. “What else could I do?”

  “It’s okay, Callie.” Bolton stood up. “It’s not your fault.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to find out why she left... and then I’m going after her.”

  “But Bolton, what if she doesn’t want to see you? She doesn’t have to love you just because you love her. Women have that right, you know.”

  “She loves me.”

  “How do you know?” Callie’s question was prompted by more than sisterly concern; she was genuinely curious about a process that remained totally mysterious to her.

  “My heart knows.”

  “Impossible.” She put her hands on her hips and watched while her brother broke camp. “Hey, I don’t have anyplace to go for the next few days. Can I come along and watch?” His look told her what he thought of that idea. “Maybe I can do something to help out, hold the boxing gloves or count to ten and say ‘come out fighting.’ “

  He rewarded her with a lopsided grin.

  “Thanks anyway, Callie, but this is something I have to do alone.”

  o0o

  When he got home he called her cell phone and got no answer. Next he called the airport to check on Virginia’s flight. Her plane had not yet touched down in Tupelo. He called her house and left a message.

  “Virginia, call me as soon as you get home. No matter what time it is, call me.”

  Now there was nothing he could do except wait.

  “How about a game of chess?” Callie said.

  “I can’t concentrate on games.” He sat on the sofa and picked up Virginia’s picture. “It’s late, Callie. Go on home.”

  “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

  “No.” A picture of Virginia in the kitchen brought back such erotic memories, he flung it away and stalked toward his darkroom. “Make yourself at home. I’m going to work.”

  Bolton had done a shoot in Louisiana of a crayfish festival. He sorted through his digital shots, forcing himself to focus on each detail. The freedom he enjoyed of choosing the assignments he wanted was dependent on maintaining the high quality of his work. One by one he downloaded the photographs, spectacular shots interspersed with tightly focused, unusual, intimate shots—his hallmarks.

  When he finished organizing the Louisiana photos, he saw the last group he’d shot in Mississippi. No use to torture himself. He tried to bypass the pictures, but couldn’t. Against his better judgment, he began sorting through the photos of Virginia.

  She had a face that loved the camera. In close-ups, with lips slightly parted and eyes sparkling, she was vibrant, lush, provocative.

  Bolton bent close and studied the photographs with a magnifying glass. He had captured every detail, even the barely discernible mole on the left side of her lips.

  The camera didn’t lie. She had the look of a woman in love. Why did she leave? Why?

  There was a knock, then Callie called through the door, “Are you all right in there?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  Silence on the other side of the door, then Callie’s cheerful voice.

  “I’m going to make us some hot chocolate.”

  “I don’t want any hot chocolate.”

  “It’ll be good for you.”

  “Callie... stop trying to coddle me.”

  “I’m not. I don’t get these domestic urges very often so you’d better take advantage while it lasts.”

  Virginia dominated the room with her secret, seductive smile. Something inside Bolton snapped. He flung open the door.

  “For Pete’s sake, Callie. If you’re all that hot to play nursemaid, why don’t you get married and have kids.”

  She stepped backward as if he’d slapped her.

  “That’s mean, Bolton!”

  He’d regretted the words the minute they were out of his mouth. But it was far too late to take them back.

  “I’m sorry, Callie. I didn’t mean that.”

  Callie wasn’t so easily placated.

  “You blame me for letting her leave. That’s it, isn’t it, Bolton? You blame me.”

  “I don’t.” He reached for her, but she sidestepped. “I don’t blame you, Callie. I blame myself.”

  “I blame myself.” Callie sat down on the sofa, her hunched shoulders evidence of her misery. “Why didn’t I take her back to you instead of to the airport?” She looked stricken. “Will you ever forgive me, Bolton?”

  “Hey now...” He sat down and put his arm around her. “There’s nothing to forgive....” She sniffled, and he dug into his pocket and handed her a handkerchief.

  “It’s going to be okay, Callie.” A glance at his watch told him Virginia should be home by now. “I’m going to call her right now, and she’ll explain everything.”

  He dialed her number and got her machine.

&n
bsp; “Virginia... this is Bolton. If you’re there, pick up. If not, call me the minute you get home. I don’t care what time it is, call me.”

  “Maybe she’s not there yet,” Callie said.

  “Maybe.” Bolton dialed the airport to request information on her flight.

  “That flight arrived on time, sir. Forty minutes ago.”

  Virginia would have been out of the small commuter airport no more than fifteen minutes after landing. Another fifteen minutes and she would have been home.

  Bolton dialed her number again. Four rings, and her machine didn’t click in. His jaw tightened as he gripped the receiver and listened to the hollow ringing of the telephone.

  o0o

  “You want me to answer it?” Jane asked.

  Her hair was sticking out in bright red tufts, her face was devoid of makeup, and her clothes looked as if she’d picked them out of the clothes hamper, which is exactly what she had done.

  When Virginia had called her from the Tupelo airport, she nearly went beserk. She was wearing her pajama top with orange jogging pants, pink tennis shoes, and mismatched socks.

  “No. There’s nothing else to say to him.” Virginia jumped off the sofa and kicked her luggage. “Why, Jane? Why?”

  “It’s going to be all right, Virginia. I just know it is.”

  That had been Virginia’s first reaction. Denial. This can’t be happening to me. Everything is all right. But on the long flight from Arizona, virtually captive in an uncomfortable seat with no one to talk to and nothing to do but think, Virginia had become angry. Now her rage bubbled over.

  “You can say that. You’re not the one with a lump in your breast.”

  Jane was crying when she got off the couch and put her arms around Virginia.

  “Hold on to me, Virginia. Just hold on.”

  “Oh, God, Jane. I didn’t mean that. You know I didn’t.”

  “It’s all right, Virginia. You have every right to be mad. Take it out on me. I’m tough, I can handle it.”

  Virginia put her head on Jane’s shoulder, and the two of them sobbed. The phone started ringing once more, a reminder that there was a world outside the living room, a world where people didn’t know that Virginia had a time bomb ticking in her chest.

  “Cancer, Jane... I can’t believe it.”

  “You don’t know that. The doctor didn’t say that.”