“Actually, I did ask her which they might prefer. It was a stupid question, because she hasn’t seen them or spoken to them since she was a little girl.”
“But I bet she had an opinion, anyway.”
She grinned. “Yes, she did. She thought we should play it safe and go with the chicken.”
“Two more chicken dinners, it is.”
“You don’t mind that I okayed their coming without consulting you?”
“I think I’ve just been insulted.”
Her eyes widened and her grin vanished. “I didn’t mean—”
He had to be careful how much he teased her. She was still very touchy about her growing relationship with her cousin. “This is Kim and Nolan’s party. I’m happy she’s found the couple that meant so much to her after her mother died. You did exactly what I would have done.” He leaned forward and was saddened that she drew back, even if it was only a fraction of an inch. “Surely you know me better than that after all these years, don’t you, Devon?” He hadn’t meant to take the conversation into personal territory, but the words had refused to stay unspoken.
“I don’t know you at all,” she whispered, and pulled her lower lip between her teeth as though she, too, wished the words unspoken. She put a hand on the floor to push herself to her feet.
He stopped her by wrapping his fingers around her forearm, holding her beside him. “Devon, have you given any thought to why you ended up in my bed that night?”
She drew in her breath sharply, then said, “Shock. Confusion. Sleep deprivation. I was a little out of my mind, I think.”
“Maybe,” he agreed with a small smile. Part of him had wanted her to say it was because she was still madly, passionately in love with him. “I think we both were.”
“I didn’t know if my grandmother was going to live or die. I needed comfort. You offered me that.”
“Devon, it went past the comfort stage five minutes after we left the hospital.” The words came out as a kind of growl and her eyes widened a little.
“I told you, it was an aberration. We were both a little crazy that night.”
Devon had been out of his life for a decade. But the moment she’d walked back into it, he was the same moonstruck teenager he’d been a dozen years before. There was something he had to know. Something he wasn’t sure she herself knew yet. “Are you planning on staying in Enchantment?”
“I haven’t made up my mind. Lydia and I have such differing styles, there are days when we can’t say two words to each other without getting into an argument.” She dropped her head and began tracing circles on the cover of one of the picture books. “My practice and my life are in Albuquerque.”
“Does that life include a man?”
Her head came up. “Do you think I would have slept with you if there was?”
“You might have if you were as frightened and lonely as you said you were.” The question had been nagging at him over the past weeks. He didn’t want to think about another man making love to her. She was his. She had been since she was sixteen and she had let him make love to her for the first time—the first time for both of them, although he’d never told her that, either. Damn, he was losing his mind. He didn’t have a single claim on her. He’d never told her he loved her. Instead, sore in heart and soul when he returned from the mess in Somalia, he’d pushed her away so hard she’d never come back.
Maybe if he’d been older, more mature, he could have handled it better. But he’d been almost as young and green as she was, idealistic and filled with foolish notions of romance and happily-ever-after. He’d expected her to know, without his saying a word, how troubled and disillusioned he was. How the things he’d done or couldn’t do had tarnished his soul. He’d counted on her, and the love he felt for her but had never been able to express, to somehow magically heal him. Of course it hadn’t. So he’d pushed her away and curled into himself in misery. And broken her heart.
He should tell her now about the hurt and horror of that godawful place and what it had done to the naive, gung-ho kid he’d been, how it had torn him up inside for more years than he wanted to remember. Maybe then they could get past it, move on to the beginning of a future together. But it didn’t seem right to talk of death and destruction in this place of hope and beginnings.
She waited so long to respond to his comment that he thought she wasn’t going to. At last she said, “There was someone, but we broke up months ago. At Christmastime.”
She had been in Enchantment for Christmas. It had been the first he’d seen of her in a long time when, decked out in his dress blues, he come by to retrieve the carton of toys the center was donating to Toys for Tots. She’d said hello, that it was good to see him. And her smile had rocked his world just as it had since the first day he’d seen her, a gawky, golden-haired, horse-mad fifteen-year-old. He’d managed some kind of reply and thanked his lucky stars he’d been in uniform. It put a little needed steel in his backbone.
“What was he?” he asked now. “Doctor? Lawyer? Indian chief?”
“You’re the only Indian chief I know. He was a doctor. Third-year cardiology resident.”
“Your idea or his to call it quits?”
She sighed. “Mine. He was a great guy, but not the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.” Who was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with? A small-town cop with a few rough edges?
He had to ask one more question. “Did you love him?”
“No,” she said quietly. “And no more questions from you.”
“Okay, it’s your turn. Ask away.” He found himself holding his breath. Would she ask why he’d broken her heart so long ago? Would she give him the chance to explain?
She didn’t bring up the past. “No need to. Your life’s an open book in this town.”
He gave an exaggerated groan, hiding his disappointment. “Hell, I should have known that.”
“Your mother wants more grandkids, so she’s hoping you’ll find the right girl to marry soon. I heard that from Trish Linden. And rumor over the tea mugs has it Theresa Quiroga left town after you broke her heart.”
“Whoa! That’s not true. She took a job with the state highway patrol. More money. Great benefits.” Theresa Quiroga had been the night dispatcher at the station. He’d dated her a few times, but it hadn’t gone anywhere. He didn’t sleep with women he worked with, and she’d accepted that. And to tell the truth he hadn’t been much interested in sleeping with her once he heard that Devon was moving back to town.
“And at the moment you’re not dating anyone.”
“Okay, okay. That’s what I get for living in the same town for my whole life.” He looked down. The tanned skin of his arm was dark as mahogany against the pale gold of hers.
She was quiet for a moment and he felt the muscles tense under his fingers. “Miguel, I have to lock up now.”
“Sure.” He rose to his feet, bringing her with him. “Have you eaten? How about joining me for a sandwich at the Sunflower Café?”
“Jenna Harrison’s husband ordered in pizza and tacos for everyone. I couldn’t eat another bite.”
Miguel bent down, scooped up the picture books and piled them in her arms. He waited, hat in hand, while she turned off the lights and locked the front door. “Not even a cup of coffee?” he asked as they walked around the building to where their vehicles were parked.
“I can’t. I have to wash my hair.” She smiled at the skepticism he couldn’t keep from showing on his face. “Truly. Another time—”
“Sunday night, then.”
“What?”
“Dinner. Sunday night. I have to work the rest of the weekend, but I’m off duty that night. We’ll go up to Angel’s Gate and order the salmon and chicken and a bottle of wine. Sort of a test case for the party.”
“I—”
“Don’t say no, Devon. We won’t end up in bed again. Hell, I promise I won’t even ask for a goodnight kiss.”
“I wasn’t going to say no.
And I’m not afraid of ending up in bed with you—I’ve told you that before. I’d like to have dinner with you, but just so you know, Lydia has two mothers who are due any day. I may have a delivery to attend.”
He traced a fingertip over one of the fat babies adorning her lab coat just above the swell of her breast. He heard her quick little intake of breath and had to swallow hard before he could trust his own voice. She’d agreed to the date. He just had to go on playing it cool and hands off. Thank God he hadn’t given in to the impulse to pour his heart out a while ago. She wasn’t ready for that. Not yet. “If the stork decides to make a deposit, I’ll take a rain check. Otherwise I’ll pick you up at seven.”
CHAPTER SIX
AS SHE DROVE to her cabin, Devon’s thoughts were full of her coming date with Miguel. Date. Two people coming together for the purpose of romance. She shouldn’t think of it that way. Why had she agreed to it? A date with him was a dangerous undertaking. No matter how many times she told herself, told him, they wouldn’t fall into bed together again, she knew she was only stirring the air with her words.
The entire time they’d been sitting on the floor of the play area like children, her mind had been filled with anything but childish thoughts. The memory of his arms around her, the way his body had pressed her to the bed, filled her so completely, had made her heart pound so she feared he’d hear it. She’d felt as thrilled as she had at fifteen when the handsome young Navajo had asked her out to a movie.
But she wasn’t that shy and infatuated young girl anymore. And he wasn’t the same sexy jock she’d given her virginity to in the back of his truck. But neither was he the angry, bitter young man whose withdrawal had broken her heart two years later.
Miguel had matured into the man she’d always envisioned he would become. The one who’d comforted her and held her that night several weeks ago when she’d been so alone and afraid. But care and comfort had quickly turned to heat and passion and swept away all logical behavior. Still, tonight they’d been alone and the same madness could have overtaken them but hadn’t. They’d talked and flirted a little and she’d agreed to his dinner invitation, nothing more. So perhaps she was overestimating the danger, if not the attraction, and Sunday evening would just be an enjoyable dinner with an old friend.
The thought was oddly disquieting, and disappointing.
The cabin was quiet when she walked in minutes later, her arms laden with picture books. Faint light came from the loft. The children would be up there, watching the small TV the owner had installed in the multipurpose space. But they could also be gone, disappeared out of her life as quickly as they’d entered it. Devon half expected the possibility each time she left the house.
“Maria,” she called. “I brought you some new picture books to read.” For a few more moments, the silence prevailed, then Maria’s elfin face appeared over the railing of the balcony.
“Hola,” she said, smiling. “Do they have lots of pictures?” As she had grown stronger, she spoke in English more often.
“Lots of pictures. And I brought you a coloring book and crayons, too.”
A moment later she came clattering excitedly down the narrow stairway. She was wearing new jeans and a SpongeBob SquarePants T-shirt. Her night-black hair was pulled back from her face by sparkly little clips Devon had picked up at the drugstore.
All three of the children had new clothes, or almost-new clothes. Devon had made a trip to Taos to a couple of second-hand clothing stores and picked up jeans and shorts and shirts for Jesse and Maria, and a granny dress for Sylvia. She’d even found a pair of maternity shorts, and along with a couple of oversize T-shirts, the teen would have an adequate, if limited, wardrobe for the rest of her pregnancy. Devon had checked shoe sizes before her shopping trip, so she’d also purchased sale-priced running shoes and underwear.
Maria jumped off the bottom stair and skipped over to Devon. She held out her hands for the picture books and crayons. “Mil gracias,” she said, her eyes shining.
“You’re welcome. Have you eaten?” It was past eight now. Devon’s stomach was growling.
“Sylvia made us spaghetti. It was good.”
“I saved some for you,” Sylvia said, leaning over the loft railing. “I hope you like it.”
“Thank you, I’m sure I will.” To Maria she said, “Would you like to take your books into the kitchen and keep me company while I eat?”
Sylvia chose to descend the steep stairs, too, and her movements were cumbersome and slow. The pink T-shirt she wore over the maternity shorts complemented her olive skin and dark hair. The baby was still high beneath her slight breasts, leading Devon to guess she might be as much as a month from term.
“Is Jesse watching TV?” Devon asked her, depositing her shoulder bag and the sack that held Maria’s coloring book and crayons on the round oak table opposite the refrigerator.
“He’s sleeping.”
“He’s always sleeping,” Maria seconded. Jesse had been more emaciated and exhausted than his sisters. He had done all of the scavenging and most of the chores involved in their nomadic life. That much Devon had learned from Sylvia, and from Maria’s much less circumspect comments. She also suspected he’d shorted himself on the meager meals they’d had.
“He’s still tired from everything you’ve been through. He’ll catch up on his sleep in another couple of days and be fine.” Devon spoke with confidence. Already his thin face seemed a little fuller and his body more robust.
“I’m tired of sleeping.” Maria chose a blue crayon and started coloring a picture of vaguely tropical looking fish swimming among fanciful seaweed and coral. The change in Maria’s physical condition was even more pronounced than Jesse’s. Over the past few days, her fever had abated and the congestion in her lungs had cleared up, leaving her bright eyed and smiling.
Sylvia insisted on serving the spaghetti and she placed a plate of it in front of Devon. The sauce smelled delicious. Devon wound the pasta around her fork and took a bite. It tasted as good as it looked, spicy and rich with a hint of heat. “This is wonderful. I can’t believe it came from a jar,” she said, taking another bite.
Sylvia looked pleased. “I added a few things. I found some spices in the cupboard. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course I don’t mind.”
“My mother taught me how to cook,” Sylvia said quietly when Devon was finished.
“She must be a very good cook. And a good teacher.”
“She was,” Sylvia whispered, and tears filled her huge dark eyes.
Suddenly the spaghetti lay heavy in her stomach. She picked up her plate and took it to the sink, motioning Sylvia to come with her. The kitchen was small and they couldn’t move very far from Maria at the table, so Devon kept her voice low. “Are you certain your mother is dead?”
“Yes. My cousin in Phoenix had a letter from my grandmother in Mexico.” Sylvia wiped away a tear. “And now we’ve heard nothing more for almost a year. My grandmother was very old. I think she’s dead, too.”
Sylvia begun running water in the sink. She added a squirt of dishwashing soap. Her hand was trembling. Devon reached out and covered it with her own. “How long were you living with your cousin?”
“Since my mother was deported.” Sylvia tugged her hand from beneath Devon’s, rejecting the sympathy, and began washing dishes.
“How did that happen?” Devon backed off a step, giving the girl the space she needed, then picked up the dish towel and dried the plate Sylvia had just placed in the rack.
“One of the other cooks at the restaurant where she worked turned her in. They were jealous of how good a cook she was.”
“How was it that you and Jesse and Maria weren’t sent back with her?”
“We were away. Visiting my cousin in Phoenix. We stayed there. My mother thought she would be able to get back into the country right away, but it didn’t happen. She got caught twice and sent back. Then she wrote that she was sick, but not to worry. She would be better soo
n. And then…then the letters stopped coming.”
“And things weren’t going too well with your cousin?”
“Jesse didn’t like staying there. The school wasn’t good. Before he took honors classes and was always on the dean’s list. In Phoenix there were gangs and drugs. I was scared for Maria to go to that school.”
“And what about you?”
“I like school, but I’m not as good at math or science as Jesse. I like history. And I love to read. So does Maria. Or she will when she learns how.” A frown dragged down the corners of her mouth. “I don’t know how we’ll be able to send her to school when it starts in September. Not unless we can find—” She stopped abruptly and began wiping up the cupboard.
Devon put her hand on the girl’s thin shoulder, and this time it wasn’t shrugged off. She turned her gently to face her. “Who are you looking for, Sylvia?”
“My aunt. My father’s sister. She…” Sylvia glanced toward the doorway as though she was uncertain whether to confide in Devon without her brother’s permission. “We think she works at a ski place around here. We weren’t sure of the name, though. Angel something. That’s all.”
“Angel’s Gate?” Devon asked.
Sylvia lifted her hands. “We don’t know. My cousin’s wife thought maybe it was Angel Fire, so we went there first. She wasn’t there, and the people at the resort called the police because they didn’t believe I was eighteen and thought we shouldn’t be on our own. We had to leave in a hurry. But before that happened, someone told us about Angel’s Gate here.” She glanced in Maria’s direction. The little girl paid them no attention, her tongue stuck in her cheek as she searched for just the right-colored crayon.
“So did you go there?”
“No.” Sylvia wiped very hard at the granite countertop, moving the cloth in ever-widening circles. “We got lost. The truck started smoking and making rattling noises. Then we saw the sign to Silverton. We thought it might be a real town.” Memories darkened her eyes to obsidian. “I hated that place. I didn’t want to stay there, but we couldn’t get the truck started again.”
The Midwife and the Lawman Page 6
