by Peggy Webb
o0o
The next day Hawk paid a visit to his brother.
“You’re good with women, Steel. Tell me what I’m doing wrong.”
“Everything.”
“That bad?”
Steel laughed, then sat down beside his older brother and put a hand on his shoulder. “I was just teasing. It was my chance to get back at you for always being in charge and for always being right about everything.”
“I’m the oldest. I’m supposed to be in charge.”
“Elizabeth is a strong-willed woman. I suspect she’s having a hard time dealing with that.”
“Why? I’m only making good sense. Why should that be difficult for her to handle?”
“Because she’s pregnant, and she’s probably very scared.”
Hawk stood up and paced around his brother’s apartment. “I’ll admit to being a little scared myself. What if I lose her. Steel?”
“You won’t lose her. Don’t you remember? The Chickasaws have never lost a battle since DeSoto?”
After his brother had gone, Steel got into his Chevy and drove to see Elizabeth McCade. If she was surprised to see him, she didn’t show it. She held the door open as if he were a favored guest.
“Good afternoon. I suppose I should have called.”
She smiled. “The Hawk brothers do have a way of dropping in unexpectedly. I don’t think I’ve thanked you properly for helping save my life.”
“Seeing you looking so good is thanks enough.”
She had a low, musical laugh. Steel thought he was going to enjoy having her for a sister-in-law.
“Did Hawk send you?” she asked as she escorted him into her den.
“No.”
“In that case, do sit down and make yourself comfortable. I’ll get some tea. “
He selected a comfortable-looking chair. As Elizabeth left the room, he absently ran his hands along the sides of the cushions.
“What the heck?” He came up with a strip of leather. It felt like... it looked like... Steel grinned. It was a leather lacing from his brother’s shirt. The Hawk was not doing too bad for an old man. Maybe there was hope for this marriage after all.
Elizabeth came back with the tea, and Steel discreetly stuffed the lacing back into the cushions. She handed him a teacup, and he settled back in the chair and crossed his long legs.
“Look, Elizabeth, I’m not going to beat around the bush about why I’m here. Do you love my brother?”
“Yes.”
“That’s good enough for me.” Steel set the fragile teacup aside. “He’s strong willed and bullheaded and something of a dictator, but he’s also brave and loyal and true. I never thought I’d see the day he would fall in love, but he has. He loves you, Elizabeth, and he wants to marry you. That admission can’t have come easy for the Hawk.”
“Why?”
“He’s not just a man, Elizabeth, he’s a legend.” Steel leaned forward and told the story of his father. “The Hawk was the firstborn. He heard the stories about our father from the time he was a boy. Somehow he took it upon himself to carry out the legend, to be everything our father had been to the Chickasaw Nation... and more.” Steel smiled. “I’m not saying that my big brother has never had any women. He was always a lusty soul.” Steel grinned. “But I guess you already know that.”
“If you weren’t such an engaging young man, I’d take offense.”
“As long as you don’t take it with that big gun you carry.”
They laughed together. Steel found it very easy to laugh with her.
“I guess all I’m saying, Elizabeth, is that the Hawk will never be what you would call ideal marriage material. But I know he wants you and this baby desperately, and I hope you’ll give him a chance.” Steel grinned. “And if he doesn’t work out, there’s always me.”
“The only promise I can give you is that I will carefully weigh all my options and make a decision I think will be best for everybody.”
“I had hoped to go home with you in the backseat of my trusty Chevrolet and present you as a gift to my brother, but I guess your promise will have to do.”
Steel stood up, and Elizabeth took his hand. “I do love Hawk, and I will never deny him his child.”
“He wouldn’t let you.” He bent down and kissed her cheek. “Good-bye... for now.”
o0o
Hawk came that evening at sunset. Elizabeth was sitting in the swing on her front porch when he rode up on his horse. Backlit by the sun he looked like some magnificent god. She put her hand on her chest, thinking that if hearts could stand still, hers was doing exactly that.
“Hello, Elizabeth.” He spoke formally.
“Hawk.” Involuntarily she pressed her hand over her abdomen. Although it was far too soon to be feeling movement, she actually thought she felt a flutter, as if her baby had recognized his father’s voice.
“It’s a beautiful Sunday evening, isn’t it?” He was still being distantly polite. Elizabeth cocked her head to one side and smiled. “Do you mind if I come calling?”
“Come calling?”
“Courting, I believe they used to call it.”
“Don’t you think it’s a little late for that?”
“I don’t want my son to think his father didn’t pay proper respect to his mother.”
“Then... won’t you dismount and join me in the swing?”
Hawk dismounted, and it was only then that Elizabeth saw the bouquet in his hand. It was Queen Anne’s lace and black-eyed Susans, tied with a length of fishing cord. He held the bouquet to her.
“For you.”
“Thank you.” She put the wildflowers to her face.
“They grow by the roadside on my ranch. Both of them remind me of you, the wild daisies with their dark eyes and the Queen Anne’s lace with its exotic beauty and tough stem.”
She laughed. “Do you think I have a tough stem?”
“A very tough stem.” He sat beside her on the swing, close enough so that his thigh touched hers. It felt natural and wonderful and right. Elizabeth wished she were a woman without a past, enjoying the innocent feelings of first love. But she was pregnant and confused and a little scared about her future.
“Thank you for the flowers, Hawk. I’ll cherish them.” He took her hand. “Do you think we should be doing that on our first date?” she asked with a smile.
“I’m the bold kind. I believe a little hand-holding is in order.” He kissed her hand and held it against his lips for a long time. Elizabeth shivered.
“Cold?” He slid his arm around her shoulders. “Maybe you shouldn’t be out in the evening chill in your condition.”
“It’s not polite to mention my condition on our first date.”
“Then I won’t.” He pulled her close so her head rested on his shoulder, then he set the swing in motion. “This is very pleasant, Elizabeth.”
“Hmmm.”
“A man could get used to this.”
“Not you, Hawk. You could never get used to spending your spare time in a front porch swing.”
“What about you, Elizabeth? How do you plan to spend your spare time now?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve pulled the shutters back around yourself. “ She sucked in an angry breath and tried to pull away. “Be still, Elizabeth. You need to hear this.”
“How do you know what I need?” She shoved at his chest, dropping her flowers.
“I’ve always known what you need, Elizabeth.”
“It’s always passion with you, isn’t it, Hawk? I thought this was going to be a nice, pleasant visit. You even brought flowers. But no. You always turn it into a battle of the sexes.”
“I’m no good at this.” Hawk kept his hold on her, and his face became fierce. “I was going to give you the flowers and be pleasant and charming and then get on my stallion and leave.”
His hands tightened on her shoulders, and a muscle worked in his jaw. “It will always be this way with us. You can’t deny the pas
sion any more than I can.”
“Oh, yes, I can.”
“Why, Elizabeth? Why do you want to?” He leaned over so that his lips were almost touching hers. “Don’t you see? Shutting me out is another way of running. Denying our love is the same as closing all the shutters in your house and becoming a recluse. You’re doing the same thing you when you came back from Yale.”
“How dare you—”
“I won’t let you become a recluse from love.”
He captured her mouth, and as always, the magic took over. Finally, still holding her close, he stood up and ran his hands though her hair.
“I love your hair,” he whispered.
They stood that way for a long while, with his hands in her hair and hers clasped protectively over the tiny miracle that would be their child. Finally he turned and walked away.
She watched as he rode off, and then she sank back onto the swing. Her wildflowers were scattered on the porch floor where she had dropped them.
Silently she bent to pick them up. In the manner of all wildflowers that are taken from their natural habitat, they were already wilted.
Hawk was like his bouquet. Wild and beautiful. He would never survive being taken from his natural habitat—the woods and rolling hills that surrounded him, and the political and environmental battles that cried out for his leadership.
She left her front porch and went inside, carrying her wilted flowers. Upstairs she opened her diary and pressed the flowers between its pages.
o0o
For two days Elizabeth fought against the logic of what Hawk had said. Hawk kept his distance. He was either busy with a new cause or regrouping for another attack on her ever-weakening defenses. She knew him well enough to know that he would never give up on her.
On the third day there was a letter waiting for her when she returned from work. It was postmarked New Haven. She immediately recognized the handwriting. There was no mistaking the spidery lines and Gothic curves.
Elizabeth carried the letter into the kitchen and propped it on the table against the salt and pepper shakers. Then she made herself a bracing cup of tea with honey and lemon.
She stared at the letter a long time, tempted to throw it away without opening it. She had no desire to know what Mark had to say.
As she reached across the table to add more honey to her tea, her newly rounded stomach bumped the table. Her pregnancy would be showing soon.
She thought of Hawk, of the way he looked every time she refused his advances, every time she sent him away. Realization came quite suddenly: Mark was not really a part of her past. He was with her at this very minute, influencing her to deny the only man she would ever love, to deny the father of her child.
Slowly Elizabeth opened the letter and spread it on the table. “My dearest Elizabeth,” it read. How like Mark to use a term of endearment, after all these years. He had always been confident of his ability to persuade her.
Elizabeth forced herself to read on. “I know you must be shocked to hear from me after all these years, but I feel a need to rectify the past—if that can be done. My dear Elizabeth, I treated you shabbily. Your friend Black Hawk made me see that.”
Hawk, again. Always fighting battles, even for her. Elizabeth smiled and started reading again.
“You were young and beautiful and innocent, and I wanted you so badly that I took unfair advantage of you. I realize that now. Then, I looked upon our affair as a grand and glorious passion, one that might last through the years. I even pictured keeping you in some small cottage by the seaside, always at my disposal, while I went on with my life as a married man and a respected professor.”
“I did love you, my dearest Elizabeth. I never told you that. Perhaps I still love you.”
“But that’s not what I wrote to tell you. I wrote to say, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for deceiving you, for failing to protect you, and most of all for sending you away. The guilt has gnawed at my conscience all these years. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, for I can never forgive myself. As ever, Mark Laton.”
Elizabeth folded the letter and slipped it back into its envelope. She felt no pain, no outrage, only a vague sadness and an immense sense of relief.
She got up from the table and got a match and a metal dish. Then she held the letter to the flames and watched the ashes fall into the dish.
When the last shred of blackened paper fell into the dish, she cooled the ashes with water and put them into the garbage disposal. It made loud gobbling noises as it devoured the last vestige of her past.
Staring down into the sink, she suddenly felt a wild sense of freedom.
Elizabeth turned and marched upstairs. There was no need to hurry. She knew exactly what she was doing to do, exactly where she was going to go.
o0o
Hawk was in the barn when he heard the car. He left his watch beside the mare and her newborn foal and slipped outside under cover of darkness. As always, he was cautious, especially now, especially since he was going to have a child. He didn’t want his son growing up fatherless.
He saw her coming toward the barn, her bearing proud and tall and the moonlight shining on her dark hair. Hawk had to make himself keep from running to her. Their last encounter had been a disaster. He had been determined to give her some breathing room, some time to think. He didn’t dare give in to impulse now.
When she was almost at the barn, she hesitated. The moon caught her full in the face, so that she seemed to be glowing from inside.
“Hawk?” she called softly. “Are you there?”
“Yes, Elizabeth.” He stepped out of the shadows. “I’m here.”
“I stopped by your cabin. No one answered the door.”
He stood still, waiting. She came a step closer.
“I saw the light in the barn... and I thought you might be here.”
“Yes. My mare, White Star, has just foaled.” The light from the lantern shone on the mare and her spindly-legged foal. The newborn was black except for a white star on his forehead. “The colt will be a fine stallion, just like his sire. He will be my gift to my son.”
“Hawk...” Elizabeth took one more step, then hesitated. “Once long ago I came to you.”
“In the summer, when the trees were green.” He held his feelings on a tight leash, watching her, wanting her.
She moved one step closer, her hand lightly touching her abdomen. “We made a miracle together.”
“My son.”
Elizabeth stood for a long while with moonlight on her face and the night wind in her hair. And then she smiled.
“You claimed me and said I was yours.” She came to him then and took both his hands. “Claim me again, Hawk.”
“This time it will be for keeps.”
He pulled her into his arms and lowered her to the hay.
Epilogue
Elizabeth Hawk sat at her desk in her sprawling ranch home. Summer sunlight poured through the skylights and the windows, unhampered by curtains.
She smiled as she sifted through the latest correspondence. The governor of Mississippi wanted to honor her husband for his contribution to the conservation of natural resources in the state. Elizabeth noted the date on her desk calendar. There was an invitation for Hawk to speak to a conference of foresters on the Gulf coast, a request for Elizabeth to address the Tombigbee Bluff Society for Clean Air, an invitation for both of them to appear on the local television talk show to discuss methods of recycling.
Elizabeth wrote a note of acceptance to the Tombigbee Bluff Society for Clean Air, then put the rest of the mail aside to consult with Hawk. She stood up and stretched, then belted her robe tightly and went into the kitchen to check on breakfast.
Her four sons were in the midst of a huge argument about who would be introduced first at the day’s activities. Fifteen-year-old Grant seemed to be winning.
“I’m the oldest son,” he was telling his brothers between mouthfuls of cereal. “Naturally the mayor is going to call my name
first.”
Six-year-old Blackie curled his hands into fists and gave his brothers a look so like Hawk that Elizabeth had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing out loud.
“My name is the same as Daddy’s,” he said. “I’ll be first.”
Michael, eight, and Jonathan, twelve, got into the act. Soon the kitchen was resounding with the noise of strong young male voices, each vying for supremacy and control.
Just like their father, Elizabeth thought, smiling.
“Boys,” she said, interrupting them. “I’m going upstairs to get dressed for the ceremonies. Finish your breakfast, then get ready. We don’t want to be late. This is your father’s special day.”
“How come?” Blackie tugged the edge of her robe. “Tell me again about Daddy’s special day.”
Elizabeth bent over her youngest child, gathering him into her arms. “Your daddy is a very special man who worked hard so that the citizens would have a place they could come to be away from the noise of the city and close to nature.” She ruffled his hair. “A long time ago, when you were just a baby, some people in city government wanted to sell the park and build a shoe factory on the land. Hawk worked hard to save the park.”
“So did you, Mother,” Grant added, pride shining in his eyes. “I remember how hard both of you fought to save the park.”
“Tell me about the shoe factory part,” Blackie prompted. He had heard the story a dozen times, but he still loved hearing it.
“Hawk realized that our city was growing without a plan, that factories and industries were being built everywhere without regard to the location. Hawk and a group of concerned citizens—”
“You, Mother,” Grant added.
“Yes, I was one of them. We devised a plan that would save our park and provide a separate place, an industrial park, for plants like the shoe factory and the new furniture factory.”
“Tell the green part,” Blackie insisted.
“It’s called a green belt. Our group got the city to pass a green belt ordinance so that neighborhoods and parks were protected from the commercial part of the city by strips of trees.”
“And everybody planted trees.” Blackie clapped his hands. “And all the birds and little animals had homes.”
