Hawk's Promise

by Nola Cross

  “It’s good that you were there for Walt when he needed you.”

  He turned at Desi’s quiet comment to find that she was unknotting the belt of her coat. Then she started undoing the top button. To his horror, Hawk sensed an unmistakable stirring in his groin. Panic set in.

  “There are hangers in the closet,” he said, crossing to the door. “A few books there on the nightstand. Bathroom is right across the hall. I’ll wake you at eight o’clock. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  The last thing he saw as he pulled the door closed was her expression of puzzled surprise.

  He stood in the hallway outside her room for a moment and thought about how juvenile his reaction had been. She was family, for God’s sake. He hadn’t needed to bolt from the bedroom just because she was removing her coat. She’d already taken it off once tonight at the restaurant. He’d already seen her rather unremarkable tan pullover sweater and snug-fitting jeans.

  So why had it felt just now as if she was about to do some kind of sexy little striptease for him? And why was his damn cock reacting as if she actually had?

  He shook his head and started downstairs, beyond disgusted with himself. In the kitchen he went through the small pile of mail he’d taken from the box earlier. Nothing but utility bills and coupons. He dropped the advertising stuff in the recycling bin on his way to the sunroom, which he used as his office.

  From his favorite napping spot on the cushion of Hawk’s desk chair, Norman opened one eye and gave a welcoming trill. Hawk laughed and scratched the big striped cat under the chin. He’d inherited Walt’s beloved pet too. And though Hawk had never thought of himself as much of a cat person, he and Norman had gotten to be pretty close in the two years they’d shared the place.

  “Down you go, buddy,” he said, scooping the cat off the cushion. “And thanks for keeping the chair warm for me.”

  He’d have to remember to call his neighbor, Mrs. Atterman, in the morning. She’d be happy to take care of Norman for the next few days while he was in Portland with Desi.

  The cat stalked out of the room as Hawk opened the envelope from the gas and electric company. He stared at the words and numbers on the paper for several minutes, waiting for their meaning to penetrate. But all he could think about was the image of Desi sitting there on the bed, preparing to disrobe. The more he thought about it, the harder and more annoying his erection became. At last he tossed the paper on the desk, turned out the light, and left the room.

  Back in the kitchen, he opened a can of cat food for Norman and then prepared the coffee maker for the morning. His usual routine was to stop at Starbucks for a quick bagel and black coffee on his way into work, but tomorrow he wouldn’t be going to the shop. South Bay Classics would have to get along without him for a few days.

  He’d already met with Miguel and Bonnie this afternoon and gone over the important stuff on the schedule. They had a ’59 Caddy coming in tomorrow for a complete overhaul, as well as a ring job on an old MG. And who knew what other jobs might happen to come in? But Miguel and the guys could handle things just fine.

  So where was this tension coming from? He felt like Walt’s vintage pocket watch in his dresser drawer upstairs, wound way too tight.

  He paced the kitchen while Norman ate his dinner, then retrieved the empty plate and added it to the dishwasher. He put in soap and started the thing up, then turned it off again when he realized how noisy it was. He didn’t want to disturb Desi as she was drifting off to sleep.

  Imagining her in bed, her hair spread in dark waves on the white pillowcase, made him hard again in an instant. Had she left her sweater on or stripped down to her bra and panties? What color were they? He pictured something rose-colored that would perfectly compliment the rich brown tones of her satin skin.

  Pervert. That’s your sister you’re thinking about, man.

  Yeah. He needed to think about something else. Anything else. Maybe watch some boring TV news show before bed.

  You can’t go to bed, man. Your bedroom’s right across from hers.

  That’s right. He’d never get to sleep if he went back upstairs. She’d be just the span of the hall away, her long, bronze limbs reclining on cool, white sheets

  He opened a beer and wandered into the living room. Stretching out on the comfortable plaid couch, he turned the volume low and clicked through the channels until he found a reality show about pimping peoples’ rides. After a few minutes Norman joined him, kneading on Hawk’s chest and purring like a ’56 Chevy, and Hawk fell into a troubled sleep.

  Chapter 3

  “Did you sleep okay?” Hawk asked Desi.

  They’d been on the road for about half an hour. Most of that time he’d been jockeying the little green Volkswagen in and out of the morning rush hour traffic heading south on the interstate. They had finally cleared the bottleneck around the capitol city of Olympia, and the cars had thinned out.

  “Yes. That’s such a cozy room. I felt like a princess in a tower.”

  He grinned at her expansiveness. Glancing sideways at her, he thought she looked like a princess this morning too, with her long hair pulled into a sleek ponytail. The elegant structure of her face was on display, and her eyes seemed bigger and more audaciously gold. He bit back the temptation to compliment her appearance. What big brother did that? Instead he fell back on the familiar.

  “Your Beetle still has good acceleration. You’ll want to get the tires rotated and the oil changed soon. It’s been just over six months.”

  She turned and stared.

  “How do you know it’s been six months?” She squinted at him, long and hard. Then her mouth dropped open. “You bought me this car, didn’t you?” When he kept silent, she let out a cry of outrage. “You did! You totally bought me this car and you let Dovie give it to me for my graduation present.”

  He kept his eyes on the road. “So what if I did?”

  “It’s not right. She should have told me. I’ll kill her!” Then, no doubt remembering that her grandmother had just died, she burst into heart-wrenching tears.

  Keeping one hand on the wheel, he reached over and patted her knee, and then let his hand remain there. They drove that way for ten minutes or so, with her bawling like a small child. At last her cries subsided to just an occasional sniffle.

  “That was you at the graduation ceremony, wasn’t it?”

  He didn’t answer. Seemed like he was damned either way.

  “That was you in the suit afterward, wasn’t it? I saw you hand something to Dovie.”

  He swallowed. “That was me.”

  “You could have come over and talked to me. You didn’t have to go sneaking around like some kind of secret agent.”

  He barked a laugh. “I didn’t know if your dad might be around. I didn’t want anything to spoil that night for you.”

  She sniffed. “I guess that makes sense.”

  He gave a heavy sigh. “And to be honest, I didn’t want to have to explain the last eleven years to you.”

  “Like you had to yesterday? How difficult was that?”

  She folded her arms over her chest and stared straight ahead. Pretty soon she gave another loud sniff. For a moment he was tempted to write it all off to girlish melodrama. But then he reminded himself that she’d just lost Dovie, the woman who had been a mother to her. Remorse spiked through him. He changed lanes and pulled off to park on the wide shoulder. He turned off the ignition.

  “Come here.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and held out his arms.

  “Oh, Hawk!” She leaned across the gearshift knob and tucked her head down, doing her best to nestle into his embrace. He caught a whiff of her scent. “You don’t know how much I missed you after you left.” Her words were muffled, so he couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like she might be crying again. That wasn’t what he’d been going for.

  “I missed you too, Pigeon.” The old pet name just fell out of his mouth. She didn’t seem to notice.

  He held her close, stroking her
back, recalling the awful loneliness of his first few weeks of basic training. After a time he’d made a couple of friends, and that had made things better for a while. Then he’d been deployed…

  She pulled back a little and managed a wavering smile. “Thank you for the car.”

  He smiled back. “You’re welcome.”

  And there they were, still in each other’s arms, with mere inches between them. He stared into the depths of her eyes, seeing all the fascinating striations of green and brown that flecked her dark gold irises. The long, black lashes. Those bird-wing brows. Even ravaged by all the tears, her beauty stole his breath away!

  I’m turning into a fucking poet when it comes to this woman.

  She was the one who broke the spell, suddenly leaning back into her seat.

  “No one has called me Pigeon since you left.”

  “No?” Still flustered, he started the car and they both got busy buckling their belts again as he pulled out into traffic. “And there I thought I was being so clever.”

  “Clever?”

  “Sure. You know. Dovie. Pigeon. Same family of birds.”

  “Oh. I guess maybe I should be more wary of you then.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Hawks hunt pigeons. Don’t they?”

  * * * *

  Desi peered through the windshield, watching as Hawk talked with the woman behind the car rental counter. They’d arrived at the Hertz agency in Portland just minutes ago. He had wanted her to just drop him off there, but no way was she going to drive away and leave him. What if something went wrong and they wouldn’t rent a car to him?

  Yeah, like that could happen. He looked so handsome and successful today in his dark dress slacks and leather bomber jacket. He was an established businessman, with plenty of money, and no doubt credit cards up the butt. Of course they’d rent a car to him. Then he’d go get himself a fancy hotel room, because staying at her house with her father there would be a disaster. After that he’d come get her and they’d have a nice lunch together. That was the plan.

  And then he would go to the funeral home with her and make sure everything was in order.

  The funeral home! Her stomach clenched and hot tears stung her eyes. Unless something extraordinary had happened since yesterday, her dad would be napping on the couch as usual, and making all the final arrangements would still be her responsibility. Thank God Dovie had left a detailed letter about her last wishes in the bottom dresser drawer, because Desi didn’t know the first thing about caskets or pallbearers or eulogies. She’d pretty much handed the letter over to the funeral director yesterday morning, arranged for someone to cover her shifts at the hospital for the next few days, and then taken off for Tacoma.

  But now Hawk had her back. Things would work out okay. Together they’d make sure her grandmother got the services she had wanted. A sense of finality brought even more tears. God, she’d cried more in the past three days than she had the whole rest of her life. She kept hoping the waterworks would run dry, but that didn’t seem to be happening yet. Hawk must be getting impatient with her childishness. She really needed to get her act together and show him that she’d grown up and could shoulder the responsibilities of an adult.

  She watched as he turned from the counter, pushed open the glass door, and came toward her across the parking lot, his paperwork and a set of keys in hand. The wind caught his hair, pulling a few strands loose and making her think about how much he looked like a handsome Lakota brave, even dressed in his modern clothes. She rolled down her window, wincing at the sudden cold blast.

  “Smooth as silk,” he said, grinning. He jangled the keys. “I’m going to go ahead and check in at the Hyatt just down the road. I doubt I would find a good hotel any closer to your house.”

  “Okay.”

  “And then I’ll be by to get you.”

  “Do you remember the way?”

  “Yes.”

  “What kind of car will you be driving? I’ll watch for you. You can just honk and I’ll come out.”

  He seemed to think that over. Then he leaned in toward her. “Desiree, I think it’s time your dad and I got over whatever shit used to be between us.”

  “Oh. Yeah.” He was no doubt right, but that didn’t stop a hard knot of anxiety from forming in her belly. She tended to avoid confrontations with her dad. Even though he didn’t use drugs any longer, his temper was still volatile. It was easier just to let him sleep.

  Don’t poke the bear.

  He reached in and rested his hand on her shoulder. She resisted a sudden urge to tip her head and rub her cheek against his knuckles.

  “It’ll be okay, Dez. He and I have both matured a lot in the last eleven years.”

  * * * *

  Hawk puttered around the tastefully appointed hotel room, hanging up his clothes, laying out his toiletries on the granite counter in the bathroom. He opened the entertainment center armoire and tested the TV controls, then stretched out on the bed to make sure the mattress was as firm as the woman at the front desk had promised.

  Coward. Loiterer.

  Desi would be waiting, and there he lay on the fine, quilted bedspread, putting off the inevitable. He could imagine the pinch of anxiety on her features as she lingered near the front window, watching for his car. He could almost hear Jordan Taylor’s strident voice, still fresh in his memory.

  “What you doing there, girl? You got nothin’ better to do? I’ll find something for you to do. Get me that TV remote there, girl. Bring it over here, and be quick about it. Stop draggin’ those damn clumsy feet of yours.”

  The vivid recollection of the chronic disrespect Jordan held for the members of his family catapulted Hawk off the bed. He threw his jacket on and left the hotel to head out across the parking lot toward the rental car.

  It had started to rain again, typical for January in the Pacific Northwest. The hotel was near the airport, which was bordered on the north by the Columbia River. The winter wind sometimes whipped down the corridor of the river, bringing frigid mountain air along with it. This afternoon the air was biting cold, the rain like slivers of glass against his cheek.

  He slid behind the wheel of the luxury SUV he’d rented, started it, and almost before he knew it he was turning down the street where Desi lived. He parked in front of the small, bedraggled house and looked up at the lighted front window, saw the flash of someone moving away, and knew he’d been right—she was waiting.

  What a shit you are for adding to her burden.

  As he climbed the front steps and crossed the porch, his heart hammered like mistimed pistons in an old V8. His mouth went dry. He was seventeen again.

  You don’t belong here, kid. Get the hell out!

  He lifted his hand to knock, but before his knuckles hit the faded wood, the door swung open and Desi was standing on the other side. The expression on her face was an odd mix of strain and relief, with maybe some good old-fashioned trepidation thrown in. She tried for a smile.

  “Oh, hi Hawk. You’re here. Good. Good. Come on in. I’ll just get my coat.”

  He slipped past her into the tiny front hall. The room was like an oven, but he decided to leave his jacket on; they wouldn’t be there long. From where he stood, he could see through the archway into the living room, where the ancient leather couch resembled some kind of huge, formless, brown carcass. A dried-up black man lounged there, his spindly legs bared by too-short jeans, a roll-your-own cigarette dangling from his lips. The years had not been kind to Jordan Taylor.

  Hawk forced his feet to move forward.

  Desi’s dad glanced toward him. Looked back at the television screen. Glanced toward him again. This time their gazes met and held.

  “Hey, boy,” he croaked.

  And just like that the spell was broken. The terrible power Jordan Taylor had once held over Hawk’s sense of self-esteem dissipated like the smoke that curled from between the older man’s lips.

  “Hey, Jordan.” All at once he felt tall and strong
, felt the young blood humming in his veins, the bunch and flex of his own powerful muscles. How could he have ever been afraid of this scrawny, old guy?

  You were just a kid. His energy was big and crazy. You were right to be leery.

  Yeah. That rang true.

  “Have a beer? The Bulls are beatin’ the shit out of the Celtics.”

  “It’s a little early for me, thanks. Desi and I are gonna grab some lunch and then head over to the funeral home to see to the arrangements.”

  Jordan studied his beer can, took a drag on his cigarette. Let the smoke out in a long, blue stream.

  “That’s good. Real good. I ’preciate you helping her out right now. My mama deserves a fine service.”

  Was that a catch of real emotion in the man’s voice? Maybe Jordan had indeed cared about Dovie. Chances were he just missed being cooked for and waited on the way Dovie used to do. That expectation of servitude would fall to Desi now, by default. A surge of protective anger pulsed through Hawk. No way would he allow Desi to set aside her schooling and dreams of a career to stay home and babysit this derelict.

  The realization that he’d just made a bigger commitment to her well-being hit him in the gut. He’d watched out for her from afar until now, and that had suited him. But to make sure Jordan Taylor didn’t suck the girl into his vortex of shame now that Dovie was gone would mean he’d have to take a more active role in Desi’s life. Was he ready for that?

  He turned toward her. She had put on her gray coat and stood by the front door like a well-mannered dog anxious for its afternoon walk. Her vulnerability stabbed at his heart; her beauty and spirit affected his body in other ways. Could he continue to keep those baser impulses under tight control, to treat her with the respect she deserved?