by Donna Fasano
“I learned really quickly that what I do for a living is risky no matter where I do it. I’m often forced to face off with people who want to do me harm. Some evil person with a gun—or a drunk with a knife—could cause my death. Anyplace. Anytime. One slipup and I could find myself meeting the Great Spirit. It just isn’t fair for me to expect someone—a girlfriend, a wife—to live with the fear that I might not come home from work one day.”
Her eyes took on a softness that affected Mat deeply, provoked him to avert his gaze for a moment.
“Our friendship was growing,” he forced himself to continue. “My feelings for you…”
He paused. He hadn’t meant to delve into this most sensitive area. She didn’t need to understand what he might or might not have been feeling for her. She simply needed to appreciate his reasons for wanting to put some distance between them.
“I need you to understand why I can’t allow myself to become involved,” he finally finished. “You deserve that much.”
What he wanted to tell her was that he believed she deserved more from a relationship than suffering the daily fear over his safety. Well, he guessed that was exactly what he was telling her. Even if it was in a roundabout way.
“I want you to know that I—” His jaw snapped shut. He couldn’t get his tongue to utter the word love. “I enjoyed being with you, Julie. I liked that you and my daughter seemed to get along so well. I liked interacting with Brian. You need to know that my breaking things off between us,” he continued, “is about me. It’s my fault”
He averted his gaze. Why did he feel so desolate inside?
“Well—” he heaved a sigh “—I came here to apologize. And to explain. I’ve done that.” He gave the door a darting glance. “I guess I’ll go.”
~oOo~
Julie remained silent and still, letting her emotions ebb like a vast and empty ocean as she watched him turn on his heel and walk out of her classroom.
The first emotion that surfaced was sadness, and that surprised her. She’d been very hurt the last time she’d seen Mat. He’d treated her with indifference, as if she was nothing special to him. Some kind of nonentity.
When she’d looked up and seen him standing in the doorway a few moments ago, she’d expected fury to blaze in her like a bonfire. However, she’d been able to show no emotion at all. Her childhood had made her adept at blanking all feeling from her expression. Even when her insides were roiling with fear or humiliation, anxiety or panic, she could don a vacant mask. Often, that had been her only chance of emotional survival when it came to her father and her stepfather.
The sorrow in her chest welled like a wave and she let it surge through her entire being.
It was a shame that Mat had spent his life avoiding intimate relationships because of his fear. Understanding his feelings was pretty easy after hearing him explain it. The idea of leaving behind grieving family and friends could be an overwhelming burden. For anyone. And it seemed that, for Mat, it was weight he’d decided not to carry.
Then another, more peculiar, emotion rose up in her. Relief.
The fact that Mat had turned cold in his office had led her to believe he was just like the other men she’d grown up around. Men who emotionally tormented and broke down those they supposedly loved by acting affectionate one moment and then doing a complete about-face the next. Men whose actions and deeds were based on nothing more than mean-spiritedness and the need to control.
But Mat wasn’t like her father and stepfather. Not at all.
His behavior toward her in his office had been caused by his being wounded on the job, and he was just coming to grips with the fact that he wasn’t as safe here at Misty Glen Reservation as he had thought. No wonder he’d been aloof.
Then a thought flitted through her mind. Mat must be worried sick. This incident had rekindled his anxiety about dying. And although he could distance himself from Julie and Brian, he couldn’t do the same with Grace. She was his daughter. She was a responsibility from which he couldn’t separate himself.
How, she wondered, would he reconcile himself with that?
She was disheartened about Mat’s decision to ignore the attraction that had sparked between them. She’d come to the conclusion that he was the kind of man to whom she wouldn’t mind losing her heart.
Who was she kidding? Mat had already stolen her heart. However, he did have solid motivation for his actions.
She was an adult. A mournful sigh issued forth from her throat almost of its own volition. She was just going to have to learn to live with Mat’s decision.
~oOo~
The front door opened and closed. Brian was home. Julie stood at the sink washing up a few dishes. She expected to hear her brother’s bedroom door slam shut, but he surprised her by entering the kitchen.
“Hey,” he greeted her.
Julie turned and smiled at him over her shoulder. For a second, she resumed washing the glass that was in her hand, but the sight of Brian’s grinning face had her twisting back around to face him.
“That old shaman is amazing,” he said.
Her mouth quirked up at one corner and she gently chastised, “I’m not sure Grayson Makwa would appreciate being called old. But he’d welcome being thought of as amazing.”
So, the night of storytelling at Grayson’s house had gone well. When Brian had come home full of excitement at having been invited by Mat, Julie had been pleasantly surprised. Actually she’d been astonished.
At first she’d allowed herself to fantasize that Mat had changed his mind, that he was trying to rekindle their relationship though her brother. However, when Mat did all the communicating about the evening through Brian, the obvious care he took in not calling or contacting her personally told Julie that her fantasies were just that. Fantasies.
But her heart was touched by the fact that, although he’d called a halt to their personal relationship, Mat was still doing what he could to help Brian. This invitation to the gathering the shaman was hosting was a way for Brian to learn more about Native American culture. Her brother would have contact with honorable role models. And he’d get the chance to meet other boys living on the reservation.
“So how many kids came to the gathering?” she asked, wiping the suds from her hands.
“Not too many. There were six other boys my age. A few girls. And a handful of smaller kids. Grace was there. Did you know—”
It had been years since Julie had seen her brother’s eyes dance with such excitement.
“—that a long time ago each tribe of Kolheeks was known as a clan? And that each clan was thought of as family, so a brave—that’s a young guy, male I mean—couldn’t choose a wife from his own clan? He had to go out to another clan to find someone to marry.”
Julie had read these facts while doing research on the Kolheek traditions, but not wanting to dampen Brian’s fire, she simply responded, “That’s interesting.”
“And did you know,” he continued in a flurry, “that boys my age were taken all the way around to the other side of the mountain—out in the middle of nowhere—and they had to find their way back to the tribe? They had to provide their own food and shelter and everything. They could only take one tool with them. They had to choose from a bow and arrow, an ax, or a knife. If they made it back, they were thought of as men. They were given the same respect and the same privileges.”
He went to the refrigerator and poured himself a glass of juice. After taking a quick drink, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“All of us got into a big argument about what weapon would be the best to take.”
Julie couldn’t help but ask, “Which would you choose?’ ’
“I’d take the ax. A bow would do me no good.” He laughed. “Even if I had a whole quiver full of arrows. And a knife isn’t heavy enough to chop down trees. But an ax can cut firewood and chop down branches for shelter. If you needed to, you could even use it to whack some unsuspecting animal for food.” He wrinkled his n
ose, adding, “I’d have to be awful hungry, though, to kill an animal for my dinner.” He set the glass on the counter. “Just thinking about it makes me grateful for grocery stores.”
She laughed. “I know exactly what you mean.”
This exhilaration Brian was showing was a joy for Julie to see. His evening with Grayson and the children and teens was the cause. She owed Mat a great debt for including her brother in the evening’s events.
Brian’s smile faded, his clear green eyes sobering, as he said, “I wish I was Kolheek. I wish I had been born and raised here. I like the things they believe. When we were out for the weekend, Mat told me that every living being deserves respect.” The boy went quiet for a moment. Then his brow furrowed. “I’ve been thinking about that a lot, and he’s right, Julie.”
The fact that her brother had come to an amazing realization wasn’t lost on her. And he wasn’t thinking about other living beings—he was thinking about himself. He was grasping the concept that he deserved to be respected. Years of his father’s ill treatment had somehow led him to believe he wasn’t worthy of consideration or regard. Mat, through his actions and his deeds, seemed to be changing Brian’s thinking about himself.
“He is right,” Julie agreed. “There’s no doubt in my mind.”
~oOo~
Hefting the grocery bag higher on her hip, Julie eyed the doorway of the police station as she walked up the block. How she’d love to go inside and talk to Mat. Thank him for all he was doing for Brian.
But she’d go right on by. Mat had made his wishes clear. He didn’t want to be her friend. She meant to respect that.
Just as she came to the door, it opened and he stepped out onto the pavement. She had the odd thought that the moment couldn’t have been more perfect had she choreographed it.
“Hello, Julie.”
Mat removed his sunglasses and she met his gaze. Her heart hammered.
“Hi,” she said.
The September afternoon seemed to heat up. They made a little small talk, the way casual acquaintances do, talking about the most mundane of things—the weather, the traffic, local happenings—but there was nothing casual about the magnetic pull between them. It started slow, like a mist entwining itself amid their feet and legs. Then it rose and thickened, drawing higher and higher, until Julie found it difficult to inhale.
Mat felt it, too. That was obvious. The muscles just beneath the sharp angles of his handsome face grew taut, almost hawk like.
Unable to quell her tongue, she blurted, “I am so grateful to you.” Without waiting for him to respond, she told him all that Brian had revealed to her about his new way of thinking. Finally she said, “He’s discovering that he’s a valuable human being. That he didn’t deserve the treatment he got from his father.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Mat slid his finger and thumb along the metal arm of the sunglasses he held in his hand. “It would be nearly impossible for Brian to grow into a self-confident young man as long as he thought his father was somehow justified in his actions.”
Her smile was brilliant. “It was you, Mat, and living on the rez and that wonderful grandfather of yours. If Brian and I hadn’t come here…” She shook her head, shifted her groceries, and reaching out to touch his forearm. Julie felt the zip and zing of something akin to an electrical current pass between them, and it was all she could do not to gasp in reaction. Raising her eyes to his, she saw that he’d gone utterly still, barely breathing.
The moment throbbed, quivered, like a balloon that had been overfilled with some thick, gelatinous material and was ready to burst. Then he pulled away just far enough to free himself from her touch. The enchantment seemed to seep away.
“How about dinner tonight?” She was as surprised by the question as he seemed to be.
“Julie,” he said, averting his gaze to the small space between their feet, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“It’s nothing more than a token of appreciation,” she stressed. “I want to thank you. For all you’ve done for Brian. And don’t say you’re not free. Brian said Grayson is having another meeting tonight, and I know Grace attends. Come on. It’ll be fun.”
Caution clouded his eyes. “As friends?”
She heard his tone and knew that he doubted that either one of them could follow though on the plan.
“You’ve made yourself perfectly clear about not wanting to be involved,” she told him. “I’m a big girl. I can handle this. If friendship is all we’re going to have, then so be it.” She glanced into the grocery bag she carried. “I have a steak in here that’s big enough for both of us.”
Seconds ticked by and still he hesitated. Then she sensed the tension in his body relax.
“A steak, huh?”
“Yes.” She smiled. “And corn on the cob, mashed potatoes, sliced tomatoes, and biscuits. Homemade.” When he smiled, she perceived that every bit of his apprehension had evaporated.
“Now who in their right mind could pass up homemade biscuits?”
Pleasure rushed through her, and Julie could only describe the feeling as nothing short of pure bliss.
Chapter Eight
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
The childhood taunt raced repeatedly through Julie’s mind. She warned her students about goading one another with such immature insults, but this one just seemed to stick in her brain like gummy white glue.
She’d assured Mat earlier today that their dinner together was as friends. That her only intention was to thank him for being so kind to her brother. When she’d said it, she’d meant it.
Hadn’t she?
Oh, stop deluding yourself, a quiet but insistent voice mocked.
Okay, so she wanted him. No, it was more than mere want. She loved the man. And she knew in her heart that Mat felt something for her, too. Something deep. Something real.
She read it in his dark gaze. Saw it in the ever-present tension of his handsome, falcon-sharp features.
But the fact remained that no matter what emotions might be churning around inside him, he wasn’t willing to follow his heart. His will was clearly stronger than sentiment. His strength of character seemed to easily overpower the desires of his body.
“What a lucky man,” she murmured, examining her reflection in the shiny chrome toaster sitting on the counter. She combed her fingers through her curls.
Julie picked up the tray on which she’d placed two bottles of beer and two mugs that had spent the past couple of hours frosting in the freezer, and then she went out onto the small back porch where Mat waited.
“Here we go.” She’d offered him his choice of apple pie or a cold beer after their meal. Apparently, tonight thirst took precedence over his sweet tooth.
“Thanks again, Julie,” he said, satisfaction in his tone as he absently rubbed his flattened palm over his abdomen. “Dinner was delicious.”
She accepted the compliment with a smile as she opened first one beer, then the other, and poured them into the mugs. She handed one to him.
Their eyes met. Desire hummed almost audibly. She could sense it. Feel it all the way down to her toes. And she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he must feel it too.
The craving that tempted them had been evident since he’d arrived. Not to mention all through dinner. She sat down in the creaky old rocker on the porch and took a draw of the cold, yeasty foam.
“It’s so quiet here,” she said, stopping long enough to lick traces of froth from her upper lip. “I’ve come to love the quiet.”
A stillness settled over them. A tranquil silence. She felt so serene being with him here tonight that she felt she could say anything and it would be okay. So she did.
“You know,” she began, “I like knowing that you’re willing to really live your convictions.”
His dark gaze cut toward her, but he said nothing.
“I’m serious,” she assured him. “I know what it’s like. I understand how difficult it can be to do something purely on pr
inciple. It wasn’t easy fighting my stepfather for custody of Brian.”
He seemed to relax now that the subject had veered slightly off of him.
Julie stared at the horizon. “To this day, Robert has never admitted to having a problem. He beat Brian black and blue more times than anyone will probably ever know, but he refused to believe that his actions were wrong. To the very end, he tried to convince the judge that a man has a right to discipline his son in any way he chooses.”
She sighed. “If he’d owned up to what he did, maybe my brother wouldn’t have spent so many years thinking he deserved the treatment that was doled out to him.”
Anger rose up in her like an unexpected squall, lashing her with furious winds and bitter rains. She murmured, “I wish the state had prosecuted the bastard.”
Mat spoke for the first time. “You got Brian away from an awful situation. That’s the important thing, isn’t it?”
Feeling his eyes on her, she swung her gaze to his.
“Know this, Julie,” he said softly, “no one gets away with anything. There is an ancient Kolheek saying—if a man plants corn, he will eat in abundance. If he plants weeds, he will choke and starve when winter comes. Your stepfather has spent his life planting weeds.”
For some reason, this idea calmed her. Soothed her anger. Many cultures believe in karma, she thought. Kismet. That one’s destiny relies heavily on one’s behavior. Making the right choices. Acting with the best intention. Treating others with fairness, with kindness, with love. And those who didn’t ultimately had to pay for their ill deeds.
The idea of a higher judgment appealed to Julie. She liked to think that someone or something bigger, an omnipotent being, would take care of exacting vengeance. Requiring penance. Settling scores. This notion left her free to focus on her own behavior, her own intentions, her own choices.
