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“Miss Fleming?”
“Yes, Charity?” Gwen directed her full attention to the child.
“Am I allowed to come to school tomorrow? I promise not to hit Billy again.” Then the girl shook her head, her face taking on a clear and unmistakable expression of long suffering. “No matter how much he might need it.”
The opinion was delivered without a trace of guile; however, Nathan went pale at his daughter’s unexpected aside. The best Gwen could do was bite back the laughter that nearly got the best of her.
“Of course you can come back to school,” she said. She bent down so that she was face-to-face with Charity. “And if Billy does or says something to upset you, you come see me, okay? Just like we talked about today.”
Charity nodded. “I will.”
Gwen straightened and, smiling, reached out her hand to Nathan. She hoped she could silently convey to the man that his daughter’s comment wasn’t anything out of the norm. She heard those kinds of outlandish judgments on a daily basis from her six-year-old students. However, now just wasn’t a good time to tell him, not with Charity within earshot.
“It was good to meet you, Nathan.”
“Same here,” he said.
His apologetic look seemed to soften, and she got the distinct impression that he’d somehow understood the silent message she’d attempted to send. His dark eyes softened. “Thanks for everything.”
Her smile broadened. “You’re very welcome.”
He and Charity turned to go, and the oddest sensation washed through Gwen’s body. As she watched father and daughter walk out of the classroom, she couldn’t get over the feeling that her life would never quite be the same.
Chapter Two
Her hand felt so small and vulnerable in his as the two of them walked across the school parking lot toward his car. Even after weeks of having this child in his life, he still felt overwhelmed at times by this circumstance he found himself in.
This new stage in his life—being a parent—certainly was taking some getting used to. Every single aspect of it. He was oblivious to the beautiful blue sky as memories bombarded him. Early on, he and Charity had had a long conversation regarding what she should call him, and it had been such a poignant moment Nathan knew he’d never forget it for as long as he lived.
“So what do I call you?” she’d asked matter-of-factly less then twenty-four hours after their first meeting.
Nathan had been taken aback by the blunt question. “Well, what would you like to call me?”
“I’ve had a Daddy-Chuck and a Daddy-Steve. I’ve had a Daddy-Toby and a Daddy-Tony.” Her face had scrunched up. “I used to get ’em mixed up and Mommy would get mad at me. But it was hard to remember, ya know?”
“I understand.” But he hadn’t really. What had Ellen been thinking, bringing so many men into Charity’s life? But then, he hadn’t really been with the woman long enough to get to know who Ellen was or what she wanted out of life. He had no idea what kind of childhood she’d had or what kind of baggage she’d carried from her past, so he really had no business judging her lifestyle.
“I don’t wanna call you Daddy-anything.”
“You don’t?” Nathan’s throat constricted at the sudden forlorn look that clouded his daughter’s eyes.
Finally she whispered, “Daddies don’t stay.”
“Oh, honey,” he’d crooned, soft and assuring, “I’m not going anywhere. I mean that. You’re going to be with me forever.”
Her little head had tilted to one side and she’d nonchalantly replied, “We’ll see.”
His eyes had burned with emotion. He’d been able to tell that she desperately wanted his promise to go unbroken, but her trust was obviously something she didn’t give away easily. Not after all she’d evidently been through in her young life. Only time would prove to her that Nathan meant what he said.
“You could call me just plain Nathan,” he suggested.
Her brow puckered. “Just Plain Nathan sounds kinda funny.”
“No.” He’d chuckled. “I mean, Nathan. You could call me Nathan.”
She made no comment at first, but he could tell her thoughts were churning. Then her chin had thrust out boldly, her eyes avoiding his, as she blurted, “But every kid needs a dad, don’tcha think? I could call you Dad, couldn’t I?”
His heart had swelled painfully. “Sure you could. That would be just fine.”
Yes, that had been one exchange that had given him great insight. Charity, even at such a young age, was striving to achieve some sort of normalcy for herself amidst the chaos of the world around her.
Now he helped her into the back seat, shut the door and then slid behind the wheel. He listened a moment as she struggled to latch her seat belt, quelling the urge to offer her help. He’d discovered she was an independent little thing, and if he offered to come to her aid too quickly, she’d become exasperated with him.
Casting a glance at her in the rearview mirror, he smiled. She was the image of her mother, with her head of tight, dark curls and her skin like porcelain. So small and innocent. However, today’s events had to be talked about, no matter how much he’d like to bypass the moment.
After he heard the latch click securely, he asked, “You want to tell me what happened today?”
Her gaze met his in the mirror. “I know I’m in trouble for hitting Billy Whitefeather. But he said Charity was a stupid name. He said I wasn’t Indian. And that I didn’t belong in this school.”
Nathan’s nod was nearly imperceptible. He had suspected Charity wouldn’t have lashed out without being provoked.
“So,” she continued in a rush, “I told him Whitefeather was the stupidest name in the whole, wide universe. And that my dad was sheriff. And that I could go to this school if I wanted to.”
So he’d been correct when he’d told Charity’s teacher that his daughter could give as good as she got. A smile threatened the firm line of his mouth, but he wrestled it into submission. Now wasn’t the time to laugh at his daughter’s antics. He needed to nip this behavior in the bud.
“He made a fist and I knew he was gonna hit me,” she explained. “I was scared, but I slugged him first. And ya know something?” Unadulterated wonder made her eyes go round. “He cried like a big, fat baby.”
Nathan knew it was wrong, but he’d be lying if he didn’t plainly identify the emotion flashing though him as nothing less than pride. Even though he was brand-new at this dad business, he guessed that no parent wanted their child to be a pushover. He was happy to discover that Charity could stand up for herself. But it was certain that they’d have to work on the means she used to do so.
“It’s not nice to hit people,” he told her.
“But Billy said—”
“I heard you the first time. But you need to know, Charity, you can’t go around hitting everyone who says something you don’t like.”
“But—”
“Honey—” his tone was firm “—there are no buts. Hitting is wrong.”
The look on her face told him she was crushed. All Nathan wanted to do was give her a big hug and assure her that everything was going to be okay. But he forced himself to remain silent. She needed to contemplate her behavior. To realize the magnitude of her actions.
Our job is to shove them right back. Gwen’s advice regarding setting firm boundaries floated through his mind.
Nathan’s fingers were trembling as he placed the key in the ignition and fired up the engine. He sighed. Being the disciplinarian was a necessary part of parenting, Charity’s teacher had just informed him, but it wasn’t a part of his new job as dad that he was going to enjoy very much.
The morning sun glowed through the windowpanes, rays of light glinting directly on the large jar of pennies that sat on the battered credenza. The jar was significant to Nathan. While working with the NYPD, he’d placed a penny in the jar every single day that he’d finished a shift and returned to the station house alive.
Lucky pennies. His jar of luck. It reminded him to be grateful for every day he was here on earth.
Several of his colleagues who had worked as cops in the city hadn’t been so lucky. All Nathan had to do was close his eyes to visualize the grief-stricken, tearstained faces of the wives and children of his fallen comrades. Those funerals he’d attended had been the reason he’d remained single all these years. Those sad occasions had also been the reason he’d brought Charity here to Smoke Valley Reservation. To a slower, safer way of life.
Now, however, one particularly new penny in the jar caught the sunlight, gleaming like coppery fire. Immediately Gwen Fleming’s glorious head of red hair came rushing into his mind with the force of a flash of lightning.
Wispy heat curled down low in his belly as a thundering bolt of pure desire rumbled through him. Nathan’s jaw tightened. It had been three days since he’d met his daughter’s teacher, and since then the woman had invaded his thoughts more times than he cared to admit. She was a looker, she was, with her head of wild ginger curls and a smile that could make a man give up his life’s fortune if she asked for it.
The woman was a tactile person, someone who was comfortable touching those within range. She’d reached out to him several times during their meeting, and each and every time Nathan had felt the air heat up, felt his heart thud like the hooves of a racehorse, his blood rushing through his veins.
He’d been surprised when she’d said she and her brother were alone. He’d wanted to ask her more about her situation. But Charity’s arrival had interrupted them.
Raising a teen was an awesome task. Nathan was impressed by Gwen’s dedication and her willingness to take responsibility for her brother. He couldn’t help but wonder how she’d come to find herself in such a situation. He’d have loved the chance to talk to Gwen about it further.
“Why don’t you just admit it?” he whispered to himself.
You’d have done just about anything to make that meeting last just a little longer. You lusted after that fiery-haired woman right there in that first-grade classroom, amid all the bright primary-colored shapes and alphabet letters hanging on the walls, and you’ve been lusting after her ever since.
He sighed, resting his elbow on his desk and his jaw in the V between his thumb and fingers, blind to the forms on his desk needing completion.
It really hadn’t mattered that he and Gwen had been in the most inopportune place, he realized. A classroom where children learned and played sure wasn’t the perfect location for him to experience such gut-wrenching desire. Nonetheless, that was exactly where he had experienced it.
Getting involved in his daughter’s teacher’s private life should have been the last thing on his mind. He had papers to file, forms to complete, a police station to run. A little girl to raise.
Still, the sunlight continued to gleam through the window, making that jar of copper pennies wink and smile…reminding him of one beautiful and extraordinary woman.
Gwen paced the close confines of her small living room, anxiety nibbling at her nerves like ravenous mice after a slice of fresh Swiss. Where was Brian?
She’d arrived home from school to an empty house. No note. No phone message. Nothing.
He was often absent when she got in from work. But he always left her a note. Well, almost always. And he never failed to return before dinner.
But tonight the meat loaf she’d cooked sat on the counter, stone cold. The mashed potatoes had congealed into a hard lump. And there was simply no hope for the limp green beans stuck to the bottom of the pan.
The sky had darkened long ago, and Gwen didn’t have any idea where her brother might be, or what trouble he might be getting himself into. Ever since that shoplifting incident, she’d been worried sick. She didn’t know the names of any of the boys he’d met since their move to Smoke Valley. Brian had been steadily uncommunicative about his friends. She didn’t have a clue whom to call or what to do. For all she knew, he could have been struck by a car while he was riding his bike and was lying unconscious in the emergency ward of the local hospital, in the neighboring town of Mountview. During that moment of panic, Gwen had called the dispatcher at the Smoke Valley police station. The woman had been so nice in her efforts to calm Gwen and had assured her that no accidents had been reported.
Still, the lesson plans Gwen had intended to organize for her students sat on the table, untouched. Worry had her too upset to think straight, too distressed to eat.
So she paced. Wrung her hands. And waited.
The knock on the front door nearly made her jump right out of her skin. She rushed to the door, sure that her brother must have lost his key.
The sight of Nathan Thunder standing on her doorstep stole every thought from her head.
“Evening, Gwen,” he greeted her. “My dispatcher got word to me that you called. I thought I’d stop by and check on you. Is everything okay?”
The concern on his handsome face nearly made her knees buckle. All Gwen wanted to do was lean on him, unload all her troubles onto his shoulders. He was barely in the door when she let her concerns roll off her tongue.
“I don’t know where Brian is. He’s never been this late before. He could be out there getting into trouble. He could be hurt. He could be—”
“Okay, now—”
His voice was soft, gentle, and so were his hands as he slid his fingers over her upper arms. He pulled her against his chest.
“—don’t let your imagination get the best of you, Gwen.”
Something happened when he embraced her. The molecules in the air heated and swirled, danced and constricted. Gwen felt as if she’d suddenly been enveloped by a warm, downy blanket.
The smoky spice of his cologne filled her lungs like a drug. For some reason, the idea of laying her head on his shoulder didn’t seem the least bit strange. He held her for what seemed a delicious eternity. She felt safe. She felt as if nothing bad could ever happen to her. Soon her heartbeat steadied and her tense muscles relaxed.
Leaning away from her, yet obviously unwilling to release her completely, he asked, “You feeling better?”
Although she felt impelled to answer him with a small nod, leaving the safe haven of his arms was the last thing she wanted to do. This hazy stupor held her a willing captive.
Then she began to tremble with some unnamable thing, something that had nothing whatsoever to do with fear and distress over her brother. A silent yet humming electricity seemed to crackle about them, snapping and sparkling like bare high-voltage wires.
How had this energy manifested itself so instantaneously? Or had it been there all along and she was only now comprehending it? And where, she wondered, was the vibrant current going to lead?
She studied his gaze as he studied hers. Of one thing she was certain—wherever it led, her drowsy mind reasoned, she was eager to follow.
Brian pushed his way through the front door.
“Hey.”
As he spoke the greeting, he lifted his chin at her and Nathan as if coming in this late was commonplace, as if he came home every day to find his sister in a man’s arms.
Immediately Nathan released Gwen, and without his nearness to warm her, she was hit with the sensation of being chilled to the bone. But the appearance of her brother caused her to be bombarded with numerous emotions all at once: relief that he was safe and sound, anger that he’d caused her such worry, irritation that he seemed untroubled by this whole situation. Heck, he acted as if there wasn’t a situation at all!
“Hey, man—” Brian grinned at Nathan “—I don’t know what brought the police here, but whatever it was, I didn’t do it.”
“You’re not in any trouble,” Nathan assured her brother. “I’m just here to check on your sister.” Solemnity knitted his brow. “She was worried about you.”
“Oh.” Brian looked from Nathan to Gwen, unspoken curiosity lighting his eyes. “As you can see,” he said to his sister, “I’m okay.” Then without another word he turned with the clear intention of making for his room.
“Hold it! Where have you been?” Gwen demanded.
Brian shrugged. “Out.”
“Out where?” She raised her hands, palms heavenward, her level of frustration impossible to contain. “Brian, you’ve got school tomorrow. You should have been here doing your homework long ago. Dinner is ruined. You left no message telling me where you were going or who you’d be with. What is going on with you? You’ve never done anything like this before.”
There was pointed accusation in her tone. She heard it. But there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. Anxiety had taken control.
His red hair, with its wiry texture, was sticking out in several directions. He was sweaty and grimy. But Gwen was too upset to remark on his physical appearance.
His face turned crimson. Being reprimanded in front of Nathan, whom he barely knew, embarrassed him, that much was evident.
“I’m going to bed,” he declared. “Like you said, I have school tomorrow.”
He moved to duck around her, but she planted herself in front of him.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” She glared at him. “You’re not walking away from this. You’re going to tell me who you’ve been with, where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing.”
