An Indian Affair (17 page)

“Yes, I am.”

Mrs. Hallam nodded. “He told me he was going out to that property his uncle owns at some lake. Do you know where it is?”

“Thank you, yes, I do. I really appreciate the information. It was nice meeting you. Goodbye.” Cindy was off down the hall again instantly, leaving Mrs. Hallam to stare after her, shaking her head.

The drive to the lake seemed to take much longer than it had when she was with Fox, and she got lost once when she took a wrong turn. She hadn’t been paying much attention to the route on her previous trip. But she recognized the scenery on the road to Eli’s house, and as she passed it she remembered his invitation to come and see him. It looked like she never would.

She continued down the road, and it wasn’t long before she saw Fox’s pickup in the distance. She pulled up behind it and got out of the car, lifting the dress box into her arms again. She was really tired of carrying it around with her like a cardboard albatross, but it appeared that she would be relieved of her burden soon. She heard a series of reports, sounding very loud in the wooded stillness. They continued, getting louder as she picked her way through the trees toward the shore of the lake. When she broke through the ground cover and into the clearing, she saw Fox about two hundred feet ahead of her, firing a gun.

He was taking target practice. He had set up a makeshift fence along the water, and was methodically shooting beer bottles off it into the dirt. His stance didn’t waver and he didn’t look at her. He never missed. Cindy watched him undetected for a while, and then when he paused to set up new targets she called out to him. He spun around and stared at her, waiting silently as she walked across the grassy shore to his side. He didn’t say a word.

“Hello, Drew,” Cindy said when she reached him, with a calmness that surprised her. “How are you feeling?”

“Stabbed,” he said shortly, and she smiled thinly.
 

“I see that. I like your sling. It gives you a decidedly piratical air.”

“You mean more than usual?” he responded, and then added, “How did you find me?”

“I went to your place and your cleaning lady told me where you were. Does your doctor know you’re out here doing this?”

“My doctor doesn’t know a stethoscope from a stapler.”

He obviously wasn’t going to make this easy for her, so she decided to get it over with as quickly as possible. “I came to return this to you,” she said flatly, and extended the box toward him.

He looked at it, then at her, making no move to take it. She bent and set it on the ground.

He watched her, rubbing his cheek with the back of his uninjured arm, the gun dangling loosely from his fingers.

Cindy shuddered. “Would you mind not waving that thing in my face?” she said sharply. “I hate guns.”

Fox tucked it into the waistband of his pants. “So do I, but I find it necessary to be proficient with them in my line of work.” He waited a couple of beats and then said, “Why don’t you want the dress?”

“I prefer memories over material things,” she said simply, and she saw the impact of her statement hit him.

“Are you all right?” he asked tightly.

“I am, although you would have no way of knowing it.”

His eyes flashed. “I was in touch with that Dr. Markel the whole time you were in the hospital!” he said angrily. “Right up until the minute you were discharged.”

“Why wouldn’t you see me while you were there?” she flared back at him.

He looked away from her. “I thought it best to leave you alone. You were hurt twice because of me; I’m obviously not good for your health.”

“I see. And it never occurred to you that I might be worried about you, that I might want to see for myself that you were okay?”

He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I’m sorry, Cindy. I’m sorry about all of it.”

“
All
of it?” she asked, emphasizing the first word.

He knew exactly what she meant. “All of it,” he repeated. “Getting involved with me was a mistake. Next time you might not be so lucky. Next time you might wind up in the morgue.”

His voice was so cold, so distant, that it was hard for her to believe this was the same man who had made such passionate love to her only a few days before.

“All right, Drew,” Cindy said. “I can’t say I’m surprised. This is precisely the reaction I thought I would get from you. I know you very well, I find. I can predict your moods like the rising of the sun.”

He looked at her then, his light eyes measuring, wondering whether she would make a scene.

“I’m going,” she announced. “But before I do I want to say something to you, and I want you to listen.”

He didn’t move, and his expression didn’t change.

“I’m sure you’ve convinced yourself that you have the noblest of motives in sending me away. You can tell yourself that you’re protecting me, and you may actually believe that. You can tell yourself that it’s because of your parents and believe that’s valid too. But the truth is you’re scared.”

He straightened slightly, and his lips parted.

“I’ve gotten to you, haven’t I, and that frightens you. Everybody told me how you acted when you thought I was really hurt, and that behavior doesn’t lie. You care about me, and you were wild when you thought something bad had happened to me. Now that you know I’m okay you’re pulling back from that and running in the other direction.”

He lifted one shoulder slightly. “You can think that if it makes you feel better,” he said evenly.

She shook her head. “Such a tough guy. You forget who you’re talking to, Drew. I know you, remember?”

“You don’t know anything about me,” he replied.

“Don’t I? You dashed back here to your childhood hangout to play with your little gun because it was easier than facing the feelings you have for me. Physically, you’re ready to take on anything and anybody, but emotional intimacy terrifies you.”

He didn’t answer, his jaw clenched so tightly that the little muscles along its edge were jumping wildly.

Cindy sighed with resignation. “I’ve tried, Drew. I can’t try any more. I love you, but I have had enough. Goodbye.”

She turned her back and walked toward the trees.

He made no attempt to follow her.

Chapter 9

Five days later Cindy was in the guest room packing to go home when Paula knocked on her door.

“Come in,” Cindy called.

Paula entered, still in uniform, unpinning her hair from its severe workday style. “I saw your foxy friend this afternoon,” she announced without preliminary.

Cindy looked up from folding a sweater into the suitcase set out on the bed.

“He stopped by the outpatient clinic for a checkup on his arm,” Paula said. “I ran into him in the hall.”

“Is he all right?” Cindy asked.

“He’s fine, Cindy. Stop worrying. It’ll take a silver bullet to finish him.”

“You’re not amusing me, Paula,” Cindy said. She tucked a set of underwear into the liner pocket. “I hope you behaved yourself.” She shot Paula a measuring glance.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Paula said. “I was civil to him.” She folded her arms and leaned against the doorjamb. “He asked me when you were going back to Pennsylvania.”

“Did you tell him?”

“You bet I did. I wanted to make it clear that you would be on your way very soon.”

“Trying to get rid of me?” Cindy asked, with a faint smile.

Paula snorted. “If only that were your problem. Are you going to get over this, or what?”

“I have to, don’t I? There’s little choice involved.”

“That louse,” Paula said bitterly. “I could kill him.”

Cindy shook her head wearily. “It’s not his fault, Paula. I knew what he was like when I started with him; he never misled me. And despite everything, it was worth it.”

“Do you mean that?”

“Yes, I do. When it was good, it was wonderful, and I wouldn’t have missed that for anything. I just took a gamble and lost. That happens, doesn’t it?”

“It happens all the time to me,” Paula answered sadly.

“It will be easier for me once I’m back at work,” Cindy said with assurance. “I have nothing to do here now that the research is finished. Once I’m teaching those undergraduates, listening to their problems and trying to untangle their schedules, I’ll be able to forget.”
 

“Do you really think so?” Paula asked doubtfully.

Cindy sighed. “No, Paula, but I’m trying to be brave and you’re not helping me,” she said, irritated.

Paula bit her lip and they both laughed.

“Well, at least you haven’t lost your sense of humor,” Paula observed.

“The last refuge of the brokenhearted,” Cindy said.

“You love him very much, don’t you?”

“I think I always will. But I can’t change what’s happened; I have to live with it.” She pointed to a pair of slacks hanging on the back of the door. “Hand me those, will you?”

Paula gave them to her and said, “What time is your flight tomorrow?”

“Three-thirty in the afternoon. You’ll be on duty, right? I’ll have to call a cab.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, to go that far it will cost a fortune. I have several people who owe me favors; I’ll switch with one of them. Let me make a few calls.”

“Thanks, Paula. I’m sorry about the timing, but it was the only flight I could get.”

“No problem,” Paula called, walking into the hall where Cindy heard her dialing the phone. Low tones of conversation followed while Cindy finished her packing and snapped the suitcase shut.

“I’m off again,” Paula announced from the doorway. “Have to pull the night shift to clear the day tomorrow.”

“Are you sure that’s all right? Won’t you be tired?”

“I’ll have two days off to rest,” Paula replied. “I’ll take a quick shower and change.” She paused in mid stride. “I hate to leave you here alone.”

Cindy smiled with a wry awareness of her situation. “You’re not my babysitter, Paula. I’ll be fine.”

Paula went into the bathroom, and Cindy sat on the edge of the bed, looking around at the room that had been her home for several weeks. It was barren now, empty of her personal items, like a hotel room when the guests have left.

At that moment, it seemed the perfect complement to her desolate soul.

* * * *

After Paula left Cindy tried to read some of the glossy magazines that Paula bought in stacks of five. The articles on miracle diets and the latest makeup techniques failed to hold her interest, and she switched on the television set. The schedule offered nothing but situation comedies full of unfunny situations and canned laughter, and she shut it off again in frustration. Finally she put on a local FM radio station, turning the volume up on the rock music that filled the apartment. She felt warm in the enclosed rooms and opened the outer door to the screen. It was a cool night, and Paula hadn’t turned on the air conditioning. Drinking in the fresh air that flooded in from the hall like a tide, Cindy began to hum along with the singer whose voice canceled the silence and lifted her spirits.

“I can’t hold back; I’m on the edge,” she sang as she started to dance, which she often did when alone. Too reserved to perform in public, she liked to fling herself about when no one was looking. She indulged her need for self-expression and got the benefit of the exercise at the same time. She soon became overheated trying to keep pace with the driving rock beat and paused between songs to strip to her chemise, tossing her clothes on the sofa.

A new number began, and she joined in with it. She shimmied and spun around, carried away by the music, lost in the throbbing drums and wailing guitars. It was bliss just to move, not to think, to feel her heart beating and blood pumping, the air filling her lungs. She was alive, and that, at least, was something to celebrate.

Cindy was so absorbed in what she was doing that when she whirled past the door and caught sight of a figure there, she stopped cold, gasping with shock. Her eyes widened and the back of her hand went to her mouth. It was Fox.

She had no idea how long he’d been there, but from his expression, it was a while. He was breathing hard, his broad shoulders rising and falling, his face filmed with a fine sheen of perspiration. The fever pitch of his excitement flowed from him to her in potent wordless communication.

Cindy stared at him, mesmerized.

He pushed the screen door open and stepped through it, never taking his eyes from hers. He kicked the storm door shut with his foot and locked it without looking at it. As he passed the stereo he shut it off with a snap.

He was wearing a blue cotton shirt, open at the throat, with a turquoise amulet on a silver circlet around his neck. It was the first Indian thing she had ever seen on him, and it glowed like a sapphire against the honey bronze background of his skin. His jeans, as always, fit him like a sheath, clinging to his slim hips and powerful legs with flattering precision. His feet inside the battered brown moccasins were bare.

Cindy took a step toward him, forgetting that she wore nothing but a silken teddy, forgetting everything but the miracle of his presence. When he saw that she wasn’t going to send him away, he covered the remaining distance between them in a second. He caught her to him in an embrace so powerful that it lifted her bodily into his arms.