Wind Over Marshdale (21 page)

 

Rachel checked her cell phone for missed messages. A whole week and neither Thomas nor Con had called. So that was it then. She was destined be an old maid, fulfilled through her work, knowing that she was preparing tomorrow's youth for a bright future. Securing her place in the hearts of some five-year-olds seemed like poor consolation right about now.

She'd come to Marshdale to lick her wounds. To put some space and distance between herself and “Rotten Ronnie,” as her friend Sherri called him. And she'd done it—perhaps even sooner than she had expected. She was ready to move on, she realized, thanks to a couple of interesting men she'd met way out here in the boonies, of all places. And now it seemed as if they had forgotten about her. Maybe her apparent desperation had scared them off. She wasn't that transparent, was she?

It was Friday night and she'd declined Grace's invitation to hit the bar for a few drinks, hopeful that Con or Thomas would invite her out instead. That wasn't happening obviously, but desperate times called for desperate measures. She'd call Con, she decided.

The phone rang several times before she heard Con's voice. She was about to say a cheery “hello” when she realized it was just his voicemail message. She snapped her own phone shut and tossed it onto her bed with a frustrated sigh. Was he purposely avoiding her? It had only been a week, but then again…

She flopped onto the bed beside the discarded phone, ready to wallow once again in her melancholy musings about life as a single. What about Thomas? They hadn't advanced as far in their relationship as she and Con had. Would it be too forward for her to call him on a Friday night? She sat up cross-legged on the bed and searched for his number in her contacts. When she didn't find it, she got up and went to her laptop. She had a record of all her students' contact information, and Whisper's father was among them. With a determined set to her lips she punched in the numbers. Be crazy if she'd spend another Friday night alone.

“Hello?”

Upon hearing Thomas's deep timber she almost panicked. What was she supposed to say? “Um, hi. This is Rachel. Rachel Bosworth.”

“Oh. Hi.” He sounded pleased enough to hear from her.

“Yeah. I was just thinking, since we had such a nice time last weekend in Silver Creek, maybe we should get together again.” She squeezed her eyes tight, holding her breath as she waited for his response.

There were a few seconds of awkward silence before he responded. “Sure. I'd like that.”

Rachel allowed herself to breathe and rushed on. “I feel a little foolish calling you and all. I mean, I'm usually not this forward, but I know you're busy and then I thought maybe you'd lost my number or something.”

“No, I've got it right here,” he said. “And I thought about calling you several times, but then
I
didn't want to appear too forward. Crazy, huh?”

“Yeah. Crazy.” Just hearing the deepness of his voice had her core on fire; her blood rushing to all the right spots. It was pathetic, really. With Con she felt something deeper—a respect bordering on awe mingled with the rush of desire. With Thomas it was animal lust pure and simple. And right about now she didn't really care.

“I can probably arrange a sitter for tomorrow,” Thomas said.

“Tomorrow?” Rachel repeated. She felt like stomping her foot. “I was thinking more about tonight.”

“It's a little late to find a sitter on a Friday night, especially since my contacts in that department are fairly limited. And Ryder could watch Whisper tomorrow if he's not doing anything else.”

“He can't watch her tonight?”

“Friday night youth group.”

“Oh.” Rachel let the word out slowly as understanding dawned. So that was why Con hadn't answered his phone. He was one of the youth leaders and was busy on Friday nights. Of course she should have remembered that. It made her feel better, even if no less frustrated with her current situation.

“He seems to have found some good friends there and he really likes it, so naturally I encourage him to go,” Thomas continued. “But I'm sure he wouldn't mind watching his little sister tomorrow night. I always pay him, so it's worth his while,” he chuckled.

Tomorrow wouldn't do at all. Tomorrow she was heading into Regina to visit Sherri and Dan, and there was no way to cancel since she'd promised to help Sherri shop for baby furniture. Not that she wanted to cancel anyway, but right now she felt desperate. Like she needed a man's attention to make sure she was still a woman and not some kind of used old shoe that nobody found attractive anymore.

“What time does Whisper go to bed?” Rachel asked.

“On a Friday night? It depends how late she lasts. Usually somewhere through the second video.” There was a pause. “I'd say about an hour from now.”

Rachel smiled. He'd caught her meaning. “Good. I might just see you in an hour, then.”

“Um, Rachel?”

“Yes?” She held her breath.

“Youth group is often over by eleven.”

“No problem.” She hung up the phone and looked at her watch. That gave them about an hour alone. They were communicating quite well, indeed.

****

Con sat listening to Pastor Todd's devotional, not really hearing one word. It had been one whole week since his campaign to forget about Rachel Bosworth had begun. And it wasn't working. He excused himself with a silent nod toward Carol, and stepped into the adjacent hallway, away from the circle of attentive youth. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He'd felt it vibrate earlier, having shut off the sound so as not to disturb the devotional time. Rachel had called.

He felt his heart leap then sink almost simultaneously. He was still at war with himself over her. He felt like God had given him clear direction, not only through his own convictions, but through the advice of two other men of God—his brother Ivor and Pastor Todd. So why was he having such trouble accepting it?

He needed some time to sort this out once and for all. Bottom line, he was a Christian, she was not. Any other differences could be easily overcome, but not that one. Then why had God placed her so directly in his path? Why was he so attracted to her? To her face, her smile, her body… just the way she moved and the somewhat shy and uncertain mannerisms that he had already picked up on? The memory of their kisses still burned on his lips. Either she had been placed there by the devil to tempt him, or God had put her in his path for a reason.

No matter which, if the opportunity presented itself again, he wasn't sure he'd be able to say no.

****

Rachel knocked softly on the door and waited for the telltale footsteps. What in the world was she doing here? Sneaking about under the cover of darkness and appearing on a man's doorstep this late at night? Thomas would probably think she was desperate or loose or both. Maybe she was. She didn't even know herself anymore. All she knew was she was sick of feeling lonely and Thomas was available.

“Come in,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper as he swung the door wide. She saw him glance over her shoulder into the darkness before shutting the door behind her.

Rachel removed her jacket, tossing it onto a nearby bench before following Thomas into the house. It was fairly neat, though sparsely furnished. She supposed they hadn't brought too many of their own things with them, seeing as the trailer was a furnished rental. “Is Whisper asleep?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

Thomas nodded. “She sleeps like a log, as a rule. Once she's out there should be no worries.” Thomas gestured to the sofa, a somewhat lumpy affair, and Rachel sat. “Can I get you something?” he asked. “I don't keep much alcohol, I'm afraid. I try to set a good example for my kids by not keeping it in the house, but there might be a few beers left over from the summer work crew in the back of the fridge. I have pop, though. Just name it.”

“Beer's good,” Rachel said. “If you're having one, that is.”

Thomas nodded and went to the refrigerator. He was back in a few minutes with two cans and two glasses. He set them on the coffee table then turned the stereo up one notch before sitting beside Rachel on the couch.

They sipped their beer for a few minutes, the tension building between them in measurable increments.

“So. Things going well with the cultural center?” she asked.

“Generally, yes,” Thomas responded. “Kids doing all right at school?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She nodded, and took another sip of beer. Small talk was a necessary politeness, she knew. If only they could skip it altogether, and get to the real reason she was here.

The conversation continued on in this vein. Snippets of information shared but not really ingested. Rachel felt the telltale signs of arousal building. Was it just her or did he want her just as badly? She'd purposely worn the sexiest top she could find that wasn't an evening dress. She didn't own a lot of provocative clothes, if the truth be told, but it was the best she could do. She giggled.

“What's so funny?” Thomas asked, raising his eyebrows while returning her smile.

She leaned forward and set her empty glass down on the coffee table before turning back to him. “You've got some foam right here on your upper lip,” she said with a grin. She gently touched his lips with her index finger then leaned toward him to lick the spot with her tongue.

Thomas Lone Wolf didn't need a second invitation. He was the first to break away, however. “Whoa,” he whispered, he voice hoarse with passion.

“What's wrong?” Rachel breathed, her chest heaving. She reached for him again and he rolled away, standing.

“Not like this,” he said. “Not with Whisper in the next room.”

Rachel blinked. Of course he was right. The last thing she wanted was for one of her students to find her frolicking on the couch with a parent. “Your bedroom, then?” she suggested.

“It's right next door. She might hear us and wake up.”

“I thought you said she was a heavy sleeper.”

“She is, but still…” he trailed off.

“But what?” Rachel asked. The heat was beginning to dissipate. She stood up, straightening her top and brushing down her jeans before glancing at him again. He looked sad.

“It's too soon,” Thomas said, letting a huge puff of air escape his lungs. “And Ryder might get home early. You just never know.”

His excuses were reasonable, but they hurt nonetheless. She'd just been rejected. Again. A small self-depreciating laugh escaped her lips. “Too soon,” she repeated. “I thought that was the woman's line.”

“It's not that I'm not interested, it's just—”

“Save it,” she cut him off. “I'll let myself out.”

She didn't look back and he didn't follow. Tears had begun to well up, replacing her brief show of bravado. She dashed them away and slammed her small vehicle into reverse, veering wildly out of Thomas's drive.

One block away she met a familiar vehicle as it turned onto Thomas's street. Con's truck with two male passengers in the front seat. Her headlights illuminated the cab for a millisecond and she recognized Con's nephew and Ryder Lone Wolf. Con was undoubtedly giving Ryder a lift home before heading back to the farm himself. The realization that he could have seen her car parked in Thomas's driveway—even come inside to investigate—sent a fresh wave of self-deprecation coursing through her veins. What had she become? Some kind of desperate nymphomaniac?

She should be thankful that Thomas had stopped when he did. It meant he respected her enough to think about her reputation. And he had prevented a very unpleasant encounter with Con. She was a mess, plain and simple, and there didn't seem to be any relief in sight.

 

Thomas drummed his fingers on the steering wheel then leaned on the horn. He didn't care if Mirna Hyde was still sleeping. Ryder exploded through the porch door and held it aloft as Whisper stumbled through into the outside world. She only had one sleeve pulled on and her jacket was dragging on the ground. She was lugging her backpack in her other hand, and Ryder scooped it from her as he gave her a push toward the waiting SUV.

“I told you kids I needed you to hurry up,” Thomas scolded, his voice tight with suppressed frustration. “Next time I'm leaving without you and you can walk to school.”

“It's too late to walk and get there on time,” Ryder mumbled.

“Then start getting your behinds out of bed a little earlier,” Thomas barked.

There was an unhealthy silence in the vehicle for a few minutes as they traveled. Thomas jerked to a halt at the first stop sign.

“I'm sorry for making you mad, Daddy,” Whisper ventured from the back seat. “I'll try not to lose my pencil case next time.”

Thomas released a sigh. He knew he'd been too harsh with the kids lately. “It's not you, sweetie. Things are just a little tense at work, that's all.”

“What's wrong, Dad?” Ryder asked.

“Some son of a—someone vetoed the cultural centre at the last town council meeting. Imagine holding a secret ballot, for crying out loud,” Thomas fumed. “Now I have to redo the entire proposal, taking into account their recommendations for change. It means another trip to Regina and who knows how many hours of work wasted. All for some white son of a—for some stupid person's concerns.”

“Daddy,” Whisper scolded. “You sweared.”

“No I didn't.”

“Almost.”

“Sorry, baby. Daddy is just really, really angry right now. I'm tired of being pushed around by a bunch of colonials who have no respect for our culture or the history of this area.”

Ryder cleared his throat and gestured with his head toward the back seat. “Maybe we should talk about it later.”

“I know,” Thomas huffed. “I've taught you kids to hate racial slurs and take a stand against prejudice of any kind. But sometimes you just have to stand up for what's yours. There comes a time when being a doormat gets pretty tiresome. One day you'll see that.”

They rode the rest of the way in silence and Thomas pulled up in front of the school with a jerk. “You two go straight home after school. I might be late, so make sure you get Whisper to bed at a decent time, okay?”

Ryder nodded as he helped his little sister from the vehicle. Thomas just caught her “I love you, Daddy,” as he sped away and he looked in his rearview mirror to see her waving. A sudden twinge of guilt overtook him. If he hadn't been in such a hurry to get to the city, he'd turn around and say good-bye properly.

It seemed like nothing was going right these days. What had looked so promising just months ago now seemed to be hitting a roadblock at every turn. There was opposition from all sides. Even Indian and Northern Affairs were beginning to question the validity of a center in such a small community. Somehow this vision must not die! It was his mission—his great-grandfather's mission—and he must not let him down.

As skeptical as he had been at first, much of what Mirna Hyde had said now made sense. The dreams had stopped, which could only mean that his great-grandfather had told him everything he needed to know. Now it was up to him to make sure that his people—including his ancestors—had a voice in this community. It was rightfully theirs to begin with and no white bureaucrats were going to snatch it away. He felt growing empowerment within and knew that he was finally on the right path. His destiny.

On the down side, he hadn't prayed much lately. It just seemed that each day was so full that when he had the chance he either fell asleep or his mind wandered to other more pressing matters. He knew he needed to guard against bitterness. It was just waiting at the door, ready, willing, and able to take over if he let it. This morning's subtle reminder from his teenage son was enough to make him want to watch out for it, if not squelch it altogether. A small dose of bitterness might just serve him in the short term. Spur him on to action until he got the job done. After that, they could retreat to the safety of their faith.

He also knew that some of his current angst stemmed from sexual frustration. That part of his life had lain dormant for too long. In fact, he'd never really considered before what he should do about it, or if he even
should
do anything about it. He had been content with his memories of Rhea, his libido still cocooned within the agony of mourning. But now things were different. His desires had emerged from the chrysalis, but had nowhere to alight.

When Rachel Bosworth had come onto him that night at his own home, well, he'd almost gone for it on the spot. Fortunately, his brain had kicked in before it was too late and they had avoided a very embarrassing situation. Not only could Whisper have awakened and found them, but Ryder arrived home from youth group much earlier than expected. He knew Rachel was hurt by what she interpreted as rejection, but when he'd told her it was too soon, he'd meant it. He still felt a twinge of guilt on behalf of Rhea. That and the fact that he was a Christian and Christian people weren't supposed to have casual sex outside of marriage, were enough to make him apply the brakes.

He hadn't called her since. He was still thinking about it and weighing his options. Despite the aforesaid reasons, he still hadn't ruled it out entirely. If he did decide to have sex with her, he could always pray and ask for forgiveness later. Mirna Hyde had said he should take the woman, too. Just what did that witch know, anyway?