Green Lake (25 page)

“Did you like him right away?” Eris asked.

“Yes. He was charming and aggressive and had an ebullient personality. He seemed to be either laughing or smiling all the time, and after what I had just been through with the silent and sullen Sioux, Sam was a refreshing change.”

“Did you marry him soon after meeting him?”

“It seemed like it,” said Madeleine, and then she looked at Eris. “No, I never really loved him. I didn't even take his name. Yes,

I was running away from what happened to me and hurrying to immerse myself in a normal life before the age of thirty because it seemed stupidly important to me at the time. Afterward, I told myself I was happy and I made myself believe it, but Sam eventually made the error more than apparent.”

“Were you ever attracted to any Indians?” Eris asked, and Madeleine's mouth tightened.

“Is this you asking me, or your mother?”

“It's me,” he said.

Madeleine glanced at him again. “I've been attracted to Indians all my life, Eris. When I was four years old I drew pictures of Indians riding horses and shooting arrows at buffalo. I read everything I could find about Indians, and dreamed of having long black hair and wearing buckskin dresses. My love affair with Indians has been lifelong but you're the only Indian I've ever slept with.”

He was silent a moment. Then he asked, “Why me?”

Madeleine took her eyes off the road once more.

“Because you're you.”

He looked at her, and Madeleine's breath caught when she saw the narrowing of his dark eyes. S
uddenly she knew she was right, his mother had been talking to him that morning. “Don't,” she breathed. “Please don't let her make you doubt me.”

“I don't want to,” he said.

Madeleine was tempted to stop the car. Instead she pushed down on the accelerator and said, “Is it so hard to believe anyone could love you, Eris? Is it so hard to believe I could fall for you just because you're you? You're everything I could ever want. You're pure and brave and honest and strong, you're quick and intelligent and dedicated. You take nothing for granted and yet you live life on your own terms. If all of that isn't enough, we can talk about what you do to me physically, but I'm sure your mother has already talked to you about that.”

“She has,” Eris agreed his jaw rigid and his gaze focused straight ahead.

Madeleine sighed but said nothing further, only concentrated on her driving. After a while, Eris said, “She thinks you're going to hurt me.”

“Jacqueline thinks you're going to hurt me,” Madeleine replied.

“You told her.”

“Of course.”

“I wondered if you would.”

“What does that mean? Am I supposed to be ashamed of you? Is that what your mother suggested?”

“No. Her suggestion was to ask you to marry me, just to see what you would say. I told her it was too soon. She wanted to know why, so I told her about Sam, and why your sister offered you the cabin to begin with.”

Madeleine briefly closed her eyes. She felt him looking at her, but she couldn't meet his gaze.

“When you came in my room this morning I almost asked you anyway,” he said.

“Why didn't you?” she whispered.

“What would you have said?”

“What do you think?”

She heard him swallow and she glanced at him. The hand on his thigh was trembling.

Madeleine waited for him to speak, but he said nothing. She fell into disappointed silence and forced her attention back to her driving. They soon reached the reservoir and Madeleine had to slow down while driving over the rutted lake roads. The Audi inched along and finally they made it to the cabins. She helped Eris into his house and then walked up to the log cabin to begin packing her things.

She wondered if she shouldn't just throw everything into her Audi and drive out again. She felt like it. She hated having to defend herself against Sara Bent Horn's insinuations. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became.

She moved her things in piles to the porch and gave the cabin a quick swipe with a rag before closing the door firmly behind her. She reached in the pocket of her shorts for her keys and walked with purpose down to get the Audi. Eris came out on the porch and stood looking at her as if he knew what she was thinking of doing. Madeleine ignored him and headed for the car. When she reached for the door handle, his hand was suddenly there to cover hers. She looked up into his face, and his eyes were black as he said, “I made room in my closet and dresser for your things.”

Madeleine's chest lifted with her breathing. Her mouth opened to make a terse reply, but she made not a sound. The expression on his face prevented her from speaking or making any movement. She stared at him as long as she could, and then lowered her head finally to look at their hands on the Audi's door handle.

“I'll be with you in a minute,” she murmured, and she pulled open the door. She went to pick up her things and bring them down to unload at Eris's house. He helped her where he could, and then he sat down on the bed and watched as she filled up his closet and the drawers in his dresser. When Madeleine was finished, she went to the kitchen to make him a sandwich. She carried it into the bedroom and found him sound asleep on the bed.

She put the sandwich on the nightstand and pulled off his boots before sliding onto the bed beside him. She put his good arm around her and stared at him a long time before closing her eyes.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Ronnie Lyman sat on the road by the cemetery and pondered as he stared down the hill at Eris Renard's home. The safest place for a drop would be the place least expected to be named, namely, Eris Renard's front porch.

After thinking about it for hours, Ronnie knew he was right. The location of the drop was sure to unnerve Beckworth, who was certain to be watching the area closely after leaving the money. But what could he do to Ronnie in a cop's front yard?

Ronnie drove to
Diamond Bay to find a pay phone to call Beckworth. The man's speaking voice was a growl that had at first intimidated Ronnie, until he remembered why he was calling. Beckworth's voice grew even rougher when he heard Ronnie's nasal tones that night. Ronnie decided to cut through all the threats and promises of bodily harm and simply tell the man what he required.

“Put the money in a brown grocery store sack and take it to Eris Renard's house. Put it on the porch at exactly
six o'clock.”

“What kind of—” Beckworth began, but Ronnie hung up before he could get started. The man was nothing like what he had expected, and he regretted not going directly to his son. A drunk would have to be easier to handle, even a violent drunk. He knew that from dealing with his own mother and father.

Not that he would give a shit about his mother or father or anybody after Friday. He wouldn't. He was headed south, down Texas way, to see what he could see. His mom thought she was going along, but Ronnie had news. No way was he taking her with him. She could stay here and rot. It was partly her fault Kayla got taken, and Ronnie wasn't forgetting that anytime soon.

Women had screwed around with his life long enough, and he wasn't going to let another one latch on if he could help it. After all he had done for Sheila, given her three beautiful little girls, all so she could treat him like shit and wipe him from her feet at the first opportunity. She probably had another man now. Yeah, Ronnie could see that. He could see her doing her hair up real nice and putting on a pretty dress and some lipstick for some brainless bump stupid enough to date a woman with two children.

Ronnie's teeth ground in his head as he thought about it. Bitch better not ever let him catch her. He'd fix her so no man would ever look at her again.

Eris awakened to find Madeleine curled up beside him. He attempted to stretch and grunted with the discomfort it caused him. Madeleine shifted and raised her head slightly, causing him to relax again and look at her while she slept. Her lashes were dark brown and curled at the tips. Her mouth was slightly open. He could see faint traces of lines around her eyes and mouth, and a light mole just above her upper lip.

He inhaled as he studied her smooth white skin, and thought of Sara. She had told him to ask Madeleine to marry him, and if she said yes, then he would know things were moving too fast between them. If she said no, it was a better sign.

“These romances that flare up like a flame on a match last just about as long,” she told him. ‘‘You want something that starts off slow and burns a long, long time.”

“Like you had with my father?” he wanted to say. “Or with Clint's father?”

But he said nothing. Women hadn't exactly been knocking down his door before Madeleine came. But neither had he made himself generally accessible. If Madeleine had not been so aggressive he wouldn't have more than a nodding acquaintance with her.

He caressed her hair and thought of all the wonderful things she had said about him, all the qualities she said she saw in him. His chest had swelled to hear her. He hadn't expected her to say any of what she did, and the fact that she had, and that she was so hurt by the inferences in his conversation made him regret giving credence to anything Sara said about her.

When he thought she was going to get in her Audi and leave he nearly lost control. He came close to wrenching her hand off the door handle and pushing her away from the car to keep her with him by force if necessary. It had been a struggle to keep his touch light and his voice normal.

He watched her now, her face sweet and slack with sleep, and wished he could lean down and kiss her lips, but since he couldn't move his head without suffering pain, any kissing and other activity would have to be handled by Madeleine.

His mother was wrong about that, too. His relationship with Madeleine was not based solely on sex. She gave him much more than just simple physical gratification.

He smoothed her hair again and rubbed a strand between his fingers. He hoped Sara didn't spend the entire time he was in New Mexico trying to convince him how wrong Madeleine was for him. He told her in the hospital that morning he didn't want to hear it, but she kept on and on, needling with her questions and finally prompting a few doubts. The worst part had been when she bluntly told him to look in the mirror and tell her what he saw. Eris got up out of his wheelchair and left the room.

And then Madeleine had come rushing in to see him, radiant as sunshine and looking at him with something like awe and wonder in her eyes, as if he were every bit as beautiful as she.

Eris touched her lips and she opened her eyes. She looked at him and kissed his fingers. He caressed her cheek and chin, and she slid a hand under his pullover to run her palm over his chest and stomach.

“Did you find your sandwich?”

“Didn't look for one.”

“Bread's probably hard now. What time is it?”

He looked at the clock on his dresser. “Almost eight.”

She blinked in surprise. “I didn't think I'd sleep so long. How long have you been awake?”

”A few minutes.”

She lifted herself to look at him. “Do you need anything? A pain pill? Something to drink?”

“I'm all right,” he said.

She propped her head on one hand and went on sliding her palm over his stomach while she closed her eyes again. After a moment she began humming a song, and Eris recognized it as a tune from Man of La Mancha. “The night you were in my wallet,” he said, and she opened one eye to look at him. Then she smiled and lifted herself up to kiss him. He pressed her to him with his good arm and returned the kiss with a sudden, fierce hunger.

Her hands moved behind his head, and as she undid his hair she looked into his eyes. Then she pushed up his shirt and unzipped his jeans. She kissed his mouth again, and then his chin, moving down to his neck and chest and over his stomach, where her hands pulled down on his briefs.

When she took him into her mouth, Eris shuddered and swallowed convulsively. Her name came out but he wasn't aware of saying it. He was aware of nothing but sensation and his fingers clutching the sheets with the need to hold on as long as he could so it wouldn't end.

Later, as they held each other again, Eris reached over and picked up the sandwich she had made for him.

“Is it stale?” she asked. “I can make you another.”

“It's fine,” he said. “Don't move.”

She didn't.

Early the next morning they drove to Otter Creek and got out to walk and talk about the wildlife they saw. Eris showed her a red-tailed hawk that might have been the parent of the young hawk he had found. Madeleine was dismayed to hear how the bird had been killed. She immediately blamed Tanner but couldn't say why.

On Friday, as they were driving over to pick up his truck from the repair garage, she began to ask about Eris. He looked at her with a lifted brow and she reminded him that he had agreed to answer her questions.

He remembered.

She started off by asking about his adoptive parents and why he had left them at such an early age. Eris briefly told her what he remembered. She asked another question, and another, and he was soon telling her most of what he preferred not to talk about, or even think about, including his days at the diner in the bus station, the ugly rented rooms, and the construction jobs he had held.

“Did you ever have a girlfriend?”

“She saw what the chicken pox did to me and hit the ground running,” he said.

“Was she white?”

“Hispanic.”

Madeleine turned her head to look at him. “How did you get along? Did you ever get lonely?”

Eris took a deep breath and then released it. “I got along by minding my own business and staying out of everyone else's. Not too many people cared about a tall Indian kid with no parents. I didn't let anyone care, because I stayed out of everybody's way.”

“Weren't you lonely?” Madeleine repeated softly.

“Yes,” he said. “I was lonely. But I got along.”

She looked at him again. “Were you lonely when I met you?”

“I outgrew it,” he said. “You get used to being alone and you don't notice being lonely so much anymore.”

Madeleine stared straight ahead and stopped asking questions. Eris was faintly surprised. He had expected her to either go on inquiring or start sympathizing. She did neither. She simply concentrated on her driving.

When they reached the garage she put a hand on his arm and leaned over to kiss him. “I'll see you at home later. Drive safely.”

He took his left arm out of the sling and got out of the car. He was going to see his mother at the hospital as promised, and it would be the first time he had driven since his injury.

He looked after Madeleine as she departed in her Audi and saw several of the mechanics in the garage looking at her, too. Their glances quickly shifted when Eris turned to them. He asked about his truck, and the nearest man pointed. Eris signed the ticket and walked over to the truck to get inside. The blown-out tire and the shattered back glass had both been replaced. When he slid inside the seat he found no trace of blood or glass in the interior. He started the engine and backed out of the garage. It felt good to be behind the wheel again, though he did find himself listening for blowouts the first half-hour or so.

Sara was glad to see him. Her bruises had faded to a yellowish green color and the swelling had lessened considerably. She held out her hand as he entered the room, and Eris briefly took it before sitting down in a chair in the corner.

“I didn't know if you'd come back,” she said, her one visible eye watching him steadily.

“I told you I would,” he said.

“You were angry when you left here the other day.”

“Not angry,” he said.

“What then? Hurt? It was only an attempt to make you think, Eris. Right now you're not thinking, and I've been there, believe me. I'm asking you to consider how you'll feel when she wakes up someday and sees the pits in your skin instead of the sparkle in your eye.”

Eris stood. “I think you're capable of returning home on your own, Sara.”

“Don't do that,” she said immediately. “You have to come and meet Clint. He's dying to meet you. I never told him about you until I turned forty, and he's been as anxious to find you as I was. He's always dreamed of having a brother.”

“I want to meet him,” said Eris. “But unless you stop attacking Madeleine it's not going to happen.”

Sara exhaled and looked at her hands. “I'm not attacking her. What I'm trying to do is save you from certain heartache when she decides to end the fling.”

“Why are you so certain it's just a fling?”

“Eris, be realistic. Please.”

He stared at her. “Are you trying to make me dislike you?”

She looked shocked. “No. My God, is that what I'm doing? Do you dislike me?”

Eris was surprised at the anger that erupted from him. “I'm not some ugly piece of human refuse from a reservation who doesn't know enough to think for himself and needs someone to tell him how to get by. I don't need anyone to think for me. I'm not stupid, and I'm not being led around by the nose.”

“No, I'd say it's definitely not your nose she's got hold of.”

Eris shook his head in disappointment and felt a twinge of pain. “Does insulting me make you feel better about yourself,

Sara? Are you trying to justify your attitude by making me into some simple deluded fool in desperate need of a mother's guidance?”

“I am not insulting you, dammit,” she said angrily. “I'm only telling you what I know to be true.”

“On half an hour's acquaintance with her? How can you possibly make such a judgment?”

“She's the one who passed judgment. I'm just another Indian to her, and she's met dozens like me. She said so herself.”

“She's met dozens of white-haters,” Eris clarified, and because he felt the need to defend her to his mother, he went on to tell her what had happened to Madeleine during her last year in the field.

Sara listened, but was unmoved. “So she ran away from Indians and became a teacher because a group of youngsters beat her up and painted her white.”

“They left her to die, Sara.”

“She didn't.”

Eris stared at his mother again and considered for the first time the possibility that he had been lucky she gave him away.

“What does my name mean?” he asked suddenly.

“What?”

“Where did you get my name?” He wanted to know before he walked away from her.