Her death was still too raw. Damon glanced around the dining room and couldn’t help noticing everyone avoided looking in the kitchen. They all seemed to be having a hard time focusing on Jareth.
Nate had let them down. True, his heart was hurting. He’d had his other half ripped from him at way too young of an age, but he didn’t have to take himself away from his family, too. No one could find him or reach him which made it almost seem like they had lost him as well.
“With Nate gone, we need to know what to do. I’ll continue on as leader and get us some jobs, but we need to figure out some things. Do we go after Nate? Do we leave it? Thankfully, Stephanie and Drake bought Bella Acres so we still have a home. Thank you, guys.” Jareth nodded at Drake who leaned against the wall by the stairs.
Drake leaned forward, his arms crossed over his chest. “We want to raise bison. I’m ready to order my first batch to start the herd. We need to hire a bunch of men for the winter. If the Trails are interested... We would love to have you guys here.” He jerked his head towards the barn. “I’m even upgrading the barn and loft. It’s guaranteed to be better than anywhere else.” He winked at Stefanie. “But only if Stefanie agrees to marry me.”
“What!” Stefanie covered her mouth with her hand, blinking back tears.”
“I know, it’s too fast. I don’t want to hear any lectures about it. When I know, I know. Marry me. These big lugs need something to talk about.” Damon moved across to the kitchen and pulled her in his arms.
The rest of the room stared in amazement and then whooped and hollered for a solid three minutes, clapping each other on the back.
Stefanie stared up at Drake, her eyes bright and her smile wide. “Yes, absolutely, yes.” She kissed him, her arms around his neck. She pulled away, real tears dripping down her cheeks. “If only Nate were here...”
“I know.” Drake pushed his forehead to hers and they closed their eyes.
The merriment sobered and they returned to the problems at hand.
“But Nate... If he came home and found us working here...” Kyle draped his arm around Sherri’s shoulder. “Won’t he feel betrayed?”
Ryland half rose from his seat. With a finger thrusting towards the table, his voice rose in volume. “Nate feels betrayed? Nate? He’s not the only one who lost Emma. He wasn’t abandoned. We need him. And he left.”
Jareth waved a finger towards Ryland. “Ryland, I’m gonna send you to get him.”
Ryland jerked his chin upwards. “You might not get him back alive.”
“The important thing we need to keep in mind is he made the choice to leave. We didn’t force him to. He’s going to have to make the choice to come back.” Jareth shrugged, hurt in the lines around his mouth. “I feel just as betrayed as you guys.” He glanced at Cyan. “But if anything happened to Cyan, I don’t know that I could stick around either.”
Cyan smiled through tears, her hands pressed over her still small stomach.
“We have to go get him. We have to bring him back.” Ryland wouldn’t let it go.
But then it clicked for Damon. The honest truth was he’d been mad at Rachiah for putting herself in danger and not listening to him. Overall, though, it was her choice. She’d called him for help, she had reached out. He gave her help. Everything was centered around choice. He couldn’t make her do anything.
Just like he couldn’t make Melissa kill herself. ‘Course he probably had a part in it. Maybe? He probably had a huge part in it.
He chose to hurt Melissa enough she considered killing herself. He had to face that. He had to own his decisions.
Like he had to let Rachiah own hers.
“No, Nate has to come back on his own. We can’t force it.” Damon’s soft voice reached his brother as he placed a hand on his shoulder.
Rachiah and Melissa weren’t the same person.
The feelings he had for Rachiah had nothing to do with Melissa.
The realization sucked the breath out of him.
He loved Rachiah. As much as he hated to commit to anyone, she wasn’t anyone. She was someone he would drop everything to save. She was someone he would try anything to make sure she felt loved, to convince her of her value. Her worth was mighty. He wanted to spend the rest of his life convincing her of that.
To make his realization bittersweet, separating Melissa and Rachiah in his head and heart made the grief more palpable.
Melissa had died. Because of him. Because of actions he’d taken. Until he could get that straight in his head and find forgiveness somehow, he probably couldn’t love Rachiah the way she deserved it.
How long would he allow Melissa to haunt him?
How long would he haunt himself?
Chapter 17
Rachiah
After the wake-up call from MT, Rachiah’s pride hurt. What was she supposed to do? She suddenly had the overwhelming urge to see her mom. An instinct she’d fought for a long time.
The walk to the Two-Claw residence wasn’t far. The reservation wasn’t overly large. Rachiah covered the mile quickly.
She stood at the end of their driveway staring at the home. She had avoided the house for a while and she barely recognized it. On some level deep inside it was home.
She couldn’t go inside or even try knocking yet. Everything still hurt.
She would love to try calling Damon, but remembered he was mad at her.
Taking a deep breath, she nodded softly. Time to go fix things with her mom.
Trudging her feet, she approached the front door. The palms of her hands were damp and her head pounded.
Pausing in front of the front door, Rachiah lifted her hand and froze. Taking a deep breath, she knocked and pressed her lips together. She wasn’t nervous about seeing her mom. She was nervous about the responsibility she was going to have to take for how she treated her parents.
MT was right. She had acted like a spoiled brat.
The door swung open, revealing Jewel with her hair plated to the side and turquoise drop earrings dangling from her lobes. She wiped her hands on a towel embroidered with feathers.
An overwhelming surge of melancholy rushed through Rachiah. She missed her mom. Sometimes a girl needed her mom.
Jewel’s face lit up. “Rachiah! I’m so glad to finally see you. Come in, come in. Are you with anyone?” She glanced behind Rachiah as she walked inside.
Rachiah shook her head. “I’m alone.” She glanced around the well-lit home. ““Can we talk?”
With her eyebrows knit, Jewel nodded towards the living room. “Of course, come on in. Let me run and start the dishwasher. I was just loading it.”
Rachiah nodded, removing her shoes. Wearing shoes inside the Two-Claw home was like slapping them across the face. You didn’t do it. She went into the living room, still nervous, maybe more so with how welcoming and unrestricted her mother seemed.
Jewel came into the living room, taking a deep breath and laughing. “I was just telling your father how nice it would be to see you before the holidays.” She grinned, and sat on the couch with one leg drawn up. With one arm across the back of the couch, she settled into her seat.
“So tell me what you’ve been doing and who you’ve met.” She waited with expectation as if Rachiah never had left in anger.
Rachiah sat down, shoving her fingers under her thighs. She leaned forward to get her bearings. “I’ve been everywhere, Mom. All over. I searched Montana, Idaho, and into Wyoming for Ratchet.”
The mention of the man’s name drained Jewel of any happiness. Her smile disappeared and her eyes grew cold. She folded her arms across her chest and swallowed. “And did you find him?” The happiness had even left her voice, forcing it to become monotone and dull, flat.
Rachiah’s own voice tightened. She had to get her experience out. She didn’t want to accuse her mom, but at the same time, how else was she supposed to find out? “Yeah, I found him. It was awful. At first I was so excited when he finally recognized I was his daughter. I thought, ‘thi
s is it, I found him. Found the one that could tell me who I am.’ This was after he rejected me. Then he came and found me and said I was the one and then he tried to trade me for drugs. And said he didn’t care if I was his daughter, I was just redskin... trash...” She hiccupped on the words spewing from her like poison and wiped the tears from her face.
Jewel scooted closer and put her hand on Rachiah’s back. “I’m sorry.”
Rachiah didn’t want consolation. She wanted answers. She wanted the hurt to go away. Confusion blinded her from understanding how she felt about anything. “How could you hide my father from me?”
Jewel pulled her hand back and folded it in her lap. Her voice was strangled. “He’s not your father. Not for sure. I was young and met him off reservation. I was supposed to marry your father the next day, it was an arranged marriage. I rebelled. I had a one night stand. Ratchet wasn’t anything important. He was just some blond drifter I used to make me feel like I had some control in my life.”
“He’s on the birth certificate. I don’t understand. He said you guys were in a relationship. He said you pushed him away.” Rachiah stared at her mom as if the answers couldn’t add up and there was no way she could make them fit.
“Dad and I were fighting. I was close to having you, about a week away, and your father and I got in a fight about something completely stupid. I still can’t remember what it was. I went to my parents’ house. Grandpa was welcoming, but he didn’t understand what I was crying about. So when I finally told him I had done something bad before we got married, he wasn’t happy with me. He went to find Ratchet, and forced him to put his name on the birth certificate, to shame me. I told my dad I didn’t want to be Salish.” Tears flowed freely down her smooth cheeks.
“I was so young, so stupid. Your dad and I hadn’t had a chance to really get to know each other. He was working all the time trying to save money so we could have a house. He’s Kootenai, as you know.” She rubbed her hands down her face.
The revelation burned even more confusion through Rachiah. She tried not to sob. Leaning forward, she put her face in her hands. “Who am I? What am I?”
“You’re my daughter. You’re a daughter to Two-Claw, sister to Maverick. You’re a great friend and an adventurer. Anything else is up to you.” Her mom returned her arm around Rachiah’s shoulders and squeezed her close. “You define you, no one else.”
“Am I Salish still?” That defined so much of her, had always made most of the decisions for her. Who she was going to marry had to be Salish. Where she went to school was on the Salish reservation. Jobs, lived, the list went on and on.
“Of course, but you can’t live your life tied to the expectations of your family. It’s not fair to you. It’s not fair to me.” Jewel studied Rachiah as they both leaned forward. “Be with whomever you want, Rachiah. I know about Damon Johnson.”
Rachiah lifted her face, slightly shaking her head. “He doesn’t know what he wants.”
“You want him right?” It wasn’t accusatory or judgmental. It was a plain question from a mother to a daughter.
Rachiah was grateful for it. What if he didn’t have any of the strings attached to him? What if nothing was wrong with her wanting him? What if nothing was wrong with her going off reservation and finding someone she cared about?
In that moment, none of it mattered. Not with her mom sitting beside her on the couch, reassuring her that she’d be loved no matter what.
MT stood at the door, arms folded over his chest. When had he come in? “Who cares what he wants. That Johnson didn’t even care when I told him about Melissa killing herself. He’s just another white guy. Don’t waste your time, Rachiah. You can do better than him.”
Rachiah stood, clutching her fingers into her palms. “You told him that? Why?” Knowing that would destroy Damon. His sensitive side wasn’t on display for anyone but her. “Damon didn’t need to know. With you and your accusations and recriminations, it’s no wonder no one befriends you.”
Jewel stood, holding out a hand towards each of her children. “That’s enough. Maverick, you’re going to stop treating your sister like that. She can do whatever she wants. You’ll do whatever you need to do.”
Love heated through Rachiah. “Mom, I’ve missed you. I’m so sorry I did that to you. I should’ve just asked you and Dad. MT pointed out to me how I’ve acted. I still need to figure out what I’m doing but thank you for always being here for me.” She wiped her eyes again and leaned forward to pull her mom into a hug.
MT watched with a smug smirk on his face.
Rachiah just rolled her eyes at him and mouthed silently, “Brat.”
She had to find Damon. He would probably be upset, blaming himself.
The evening was coming inexorably closer, with the sun beginning to fade behind the mountains. She turned back to MT before she left. “MT, can you give me a ride?”
He tossed her the keys to his truck. “Here. I’m not going anywhere until tomorrow morning. Make sure my rig is in the drive.” He was still living with their parents.
Rachiah drove the short distance back to her old place where Damon and Ryland stayed.
She parked MT’s truck and half jogged to the front door. Knocking on the door, she waited, jiggling the keys in her hand.
Damon swung the door open, leaning against the panel as he swayed. He focused his eyes and squinted. “Wow, I was just thinking about you.” He tilted a bottle of beer towards her.
The sight of the alcohol concerned her. He wasn’t a drinker.
“Damon, have you been drinking?” Why did she state the obvious? She had no idea. She didn’t want to go inside if he’d been drinking. She wasn’t a fan of alcohol. “Do you want to go for a drive?”
He nodded, shuffling to stand on the patio beside her. He took another swig and glanced at her from the side. “Look at you, Melissa. All grown up. You... I... Well, I don’t even have the words.”
Melissa. He called her Melissa. MT must have sent him spiraling.
“Come on, let’s go get your truck. You know, I’m not Melissa.” Last time she’d been there, he’d tossed his keys onto the side table by the door when he’d come in for lunch. She poked her head in and grabbed them from the surface. She grabbed his arm and led him to his truck sitting in the drive.
Rachiah took the bottle from him and pushed him towards the passenger side. She rounded the truck and climbed into the driver’s seat. After he got in and closed the door, she started the engine and drove them the short distance to the lookout bluff.
He pulled out a flask from the glove compartment, something she never knew he had in there. He twisted at the top and took another drink.
They stared out over the valley, mountains framing the plains with a fuzzy outline that grew fuzzier as the sun descended behind them.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you. There’s this girl and she’s like you. And then I met your dad. And your grandma. Your grandma is dead. Did you know she’s dead? She’s dead. But you’re dead. Have you seen your grandma? She was nice.” His eyes were red rimmed and he slumped into the seat.
His vulnerability tugged at Rachiah.
“You know it’s not your fault right? She didn’t die because of you. You know that right?” He didn’t hear her, his eyes drooped shut and his hand with the flask fells to the side.
Rachiah stared at him as the soft glub-glub filled the air as the flask liquid spilled down the interior side of the truck.
She wouldn’t leave him. The realization she would do anything for him slapped her across the face. She was falling for him, and fast.
He thought of her as Melissa.
Rachiah didn’t want to be anyone but herself.
She wanted to be loved for herself.
Isn’t that what every woman wants?
Chapter 18
Damon
Opening his eyes with the early morning sun right in his line of sight was painful.
Damon blinked, squeezing his eyes shut as tight as he
could. He wiped his mouth, the cotton sensation heavy and thick.
“Oh, that was painful.” He shifted on the bench seat of his truck, peering around, and working his tongue to get rid of the numb sensation. Why was he in the passenger seat? He glanced to his left and blinked again as if a mirage had appeared before him. “Rachiah? What’re you doing here?”
She sat rigidly on the front seat, her hands tight on the steering wheel. Tears streamed down her face. And from the looks of her puffy cheeks and swollen eyes, she’d been crying for a while.
“Are you okay? Where are we?” Damon searched the truck for a sign of injury or a letter or something, anything that would tell him what was wrong. “Did I do something? What did I do?”
Rachiah hiccupped, shaking her head. “I’m. Not. Her.” She slammed her hand on the steering well in tune with her words.
Confusion stilled Damon. “What? Who are you talking about?”
“Melissa Metcalf.” Rachiah wouldn’t look at him, which freaked Damon out even more.
“I know that.” He spoke slowly as he tried to figure out what he’d missed. Where was she going with that?
“No, you thought I was her last night.” She quieted, as if calm had spread over her just speaking the words.
Devastation crashed over Damon. He stuttered. “I don’t... I... It’s... Look, Rachiah, I realized yesterday...” He sighed, anxiety reprimanding him from the inside out. “I care for you. More than I could ever care about... Wait, I mean...”
“I’m not her. I’m tired of being expected to be something and failing. I can’t forgive you for her. I can’t be her for you when you need it. I need to be me. I won’t be defined by other people.” Even splotchy, her skin was smooth and he longed to caress it.
“No, I mean... I... It doesn’t matter.” He slumped forward in defeat.
“What? What doesn’t matter? I think we have reached a point in our relationship where anything matters. Everything matters.” Rachiah faced him, gripping the seat back in the steering wheel.
“You’re Salish. There’s...” Pleading with her to care about him wouldn’t get him anywhere. Having hope was torturous and he didn’t want to face the crash that would happen when she went off to be with someone else – whoever her family had chosen for her.
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