Close Proximity

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“Maybe a hundred years ago.”

Her eyes snapped open.

“Libby, you’re making reservation life sound positively primitive.” He heard the hard edge of his tone, but wasn’t able to do a thing to quell it. “Mokee-kittuun mothers want to raise poised, mannerly, technically savvy children, just like every other mother in the world.”

She swallowed, her spine straightening. “Oh, Rafe, that was so insensitive of me. I’m sorry. It’s just that my own childhood was so…limited. I certainly didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

The feelings he was experiencing surprised him. Normally, stereotypical comments regarding his race made him furious. But he knew she had meant no offense.

“It’s okay,” he told her. “Really.” He went on with the task of preparing their meal, certain that doing so was the best way to let her know all was well.

“Actually,” he continued, “I spent a good many years growing up here in town.” He didn’t want to think about those years. Certainly had no intention of telling her about them. In any detail, that was.

“My nohk-han died when I was three.”

“Nohk-han?”

Libby rolled the word around on her tongue, her lyrical voice giving the word an almost poetic sound, and a thrill shot through Rafe.

“The word means father in Algonquian.”

She smiled. “It’s beautiful.” Then she sobered. “I’m sorry your dad died when you were so young. Do you remember him?”

Pressing his lips together, he shook his head. He wished…oh, how he wished. He’d have settled for whispery images. Blurry pictures of a dark-haired, dark-eyed man. Pride shining in his gaze. Laughter. Love.

But Rafe had none of these things. He had no memory of his father. None whatsoever.

“That’s sad,” Libby said. “So sad.”

Sidestepping the dark pit of depressing emotion, Rafe carried on with his story.

“Onna moved us into town,” he told Libby.

“Onna…” She paused, then queried him with a look. “Onna means mother?”

He nodded. “She took a job as a housekeeper.” Tension gathered in every muscle of his body. He was getting too close to the badness. Too close to the foul memories. But he’d dived into the pool of the past. The challenge now would be to swim across without drowning.

“She ended up marrying the man.” Pain ached in his jaw. “Curtis James adopted me. My onna had two children while she was with him. My half brother, River, and my half sister, Cheyenne.”

Glancing down, Rafe saw that his grip on the knife left his knuckles white. He tried to relax. But it was nearly impossible.