Hawk's Haven (10 page)

"Well, where did she go?"

"I don't know. She wasn't anxious to confide in me either, Sir.” He couldn't ask her now. She deserved her privacy.

"What good is this community service if she's still free to carry on with those low class friends of hers? I never should have let her go to the State University. Look at the kind of people they accept just to meet quotas."

"I went to the State University," Hawk said dryly.

"Well, of course..." the judge stammered. He cleared his throat, but his foot remained firmly in his mouth. "I didn't mean you. I think it's admirable the way you made something of yourself considering...well, you know what I mean.”  

Hawk knew exactly what the judge meant. The intercom buzzed on his desk, and he welcomed the intrusion. He shrugged an apology and picked up the receiver.  Perhaps Judge Hughes would take the hint that he’d better things to do with his time than spy on Gillian.

Aaron rose. "I should be leaving. See what you can find out for me. I'll give you a call in a few days and let you know how the meeting with the governor went."

Hawk read between the lines. Any help came with a price attached. He thought to tell the man exactly where to stick his help. With or without the governor's approval, the casino would be built if the tribe ever came to an agreement among themselves.

Aaron shrugged. “She’s my only child, Thomas. I’m worried about what she’s doing with her life.”

That much, Hawk believed. Whatever his other faults no one questioned the man’s unwavering devotion to his daughter. However, he didn’t seem to realize that Gillian was a grown woman with a mind of her own. The only way to hold onto his daughter was to let go.

Once he had the office to himself, Hawk leaned back in the chair and picked through his mail. He’d been expecting plans from the architect for the casino. Hopefully the designs would sway some of the undecided council members.

His position, right in the middle of the traditionalists and the progressives left him feeling like the rope in a game of tug-o-war. Add Gillian on one side and Aaron on the other and he felt as if he was being drawn and quartered. How had his life gotten so complicated?

He slit the top of the envelope with a sterling silver letter opener. Instead of the plans he expected to find, he pulled out a money order. There was no note attached, but he knew who sent it. The check was drawn for one hundred dollars. The same amount of money that he’d lent Gillian the week before.

As if he didn’t feel guilty enough, now he had to worry about if she could afford to eat. He laid his head on the desk and groaned. Gillian had missed her calling. She should have been a judge, because she knew how to make the punishment fit the crime
.

.

* * * *

When Gillian returned to work Monday morning, Martha looked more than a little surprised. Gillian hadn't been sure herself that she would find the courage to return but she refused to give Hawk the satisfaction of scaring her off. The older woman, full of apology, invited Gillian to a pot luck supper with some other women who were planning the upcoming Strawberry Thanksgiving.

The choice of watching television reruns while surrounded by the same four walls she’d stared at the week before held about as much appeal as
a
root canal. "That would be nice. Can I bring anything?"

"Oh, no. Just yourself and a huge appetite."

That wouldn't be hard. Despite what she’d told Hawk, eating hot dogs everyday had lost some of its glamour even when she gave the dish a fancy, French name. At least now she’d enough money to splurge on a variety of foods, but she still had to be careful.

She thought about the irony of selling her evening gowns at a nearby consignment shop. In the past her image had been defined by the designer clothes she’d worn. Perhaps now she could be judged for what she thought instead of how she looked.

The best part was being able to return Hawk's loan.  He could use the money to pay for the honor of wearing some fancy designer monogram across his magnificent chest. She’d nothing to prove to anyone. Some day he might understand that, other than blinding brilliance, glitter had no value at all.

Martha and her friends worked hard to show Gillian true Iroquois hospitality. The welcome-to-the-neighborhood pot luck dinner had every dish imaginable, from Native American cuisine to lasagna and meatballs. Not wishing to offend any one of the twenty women at the gathering, Gillian had to sample all the food in equal proportions.

This culture had their priorities right, she thought with a smile. A family unit encompassed the entire clan, not just the blood relatives.  The clan mothers selected the chief, and could remove him if he abused his power. And they had a holiday for strawberries.

The party finally broke up around ten thirty. Martha offered her a ride, but she declined. After all the calories she’d taken in, she needed the exercise. Like a duck, she waddled down the road, gently rubbing her full stomach.

Fifteen minutes later she reached the driveway and glanced toward the house. The silhouette of the darkened cabin gave her a start. She thought she’d left a light on for her return. Shaking off the irrational fears, she continued walking.

As she got closer, she noticed a car parked at the side of the house. "Great," she grumbled. Just what she needed!  Another visit from the spirit world. Wasn't he happy with the results the first time?

She flopped down in a wicker chair on the front lawn and gazed into the star filled sky. The night air was cool and clean, with a sweet floral scent. Kicking off her sandals, she ran her feet into the soft grass. For one brief moment she enjoyed the finer points of this Eden before she’d to face the serpent with his tempting apple. Or in Hawk's case, a body to die for on a man she'd like to kill.

Gillian felt his presence even though she couldn't see him. "Don't just stand there, lurking in the shadows," she called out.

"I didn't want to scare you," Hawk said.

"That's a switch.” She still felt apprehensive about walking up the mountain, even in daylight.

He emerged from the trees and ambled toward her.  The echo of crunching twigs ended when he reached the grass. As he passed the side of the house, the motion detector turned on a spotlight that lit the entire front lawn.

With his hands in his pockets and his shoulder hunched forward, he reminded her of a little boy who was about to get punished. And he should be, she quickly reminded herself before the sentimental feeling had her apologizing for being the victim of his cruel hoax.

"May I talk to you?" he asked.

"Wait. Let me get a shovel first. It might get deep."

Hawk smiled weakly. "I thought we had a truce."

"So did I. I guess the pale face isn't the only one who speaks with a forked tongue. Oh, but I forgot. You're only an Iroquois when it suits you."

* * * *

Hawk had come to the same conclusion himself, although her perception surprised him. He’d never understood what kept bringing him back. Why, every so often he felt the need to return to this place, and more so in the last year. He used to think it reminded him of how much he'd gained but lately, all he could see was how much he'd lost. Of his culture, his family and himself.

"I'm sorry about the other night," he said.

She waved her hand as if the matter had been forgotten but he could see in her glacial stare that it hadn't. "Is that it?"

He pointed to an empty chair. "May I sit down?"

"Can I stop you?"

"Any woman who can land me on my rear end in the dirt can set the rules."

She smiled, although he could tell she didn't want to. Looking away, she muttered, “It's late and I have an early class tomorrow. What do you want?"

He balanced on the edge of the lounge chair across from her. "I'm worried about you. I know you're ticked off at me..."

"You're damn right," she grumbled, and added something under her breath that relegated him to a member of the donkey family. Gillian Hughes swearing? He should be shocked but coming from her lips it sounded adorable. "Get to the point before I fall asleep."

"How did you get the money to pay me back?"

She laughed, but there was nothing amusing in the bitter sound. "Aaron paid you a visit first thing Monday morning I'll bet? Did he send you to find out where I was all weekend?"

Hawk was amazed at how well she knew her father when Aaron seemed to know so little about her. "What makes you think that?"

"Unless you had spoken to him, you would have assumed I got the money from him."

"This has nothing to do with your father. I want to know how you got the money," he said, pointing to himself for added emphasis.

"The same way most women pick up a few hundred dollars for a couple hours work?” She hiked the bottom of her dress high above her knees and rested one bare leg in his lap. Her toes wiggled playfully against his stomach. As if he wasn't already feeling enough heat, she ran the tip of her tongue across her lips provocatively and blew him a kiss. "Would you have rather received your payment in trade?"

"That's not funny."

"No?" she asked, springing to her feet.  She glared at him and her eyes turned an iridescent blue in the glow of the spotlight. "I thought it was a scream. You already think I'm a holier-then-thou snob. Why not a high class hooker, too?"

"I don't think any such thing," he denied quickly, but he’d once accused her of something similar. She never defended herself so the lawyer in him took that as an admission of guilt. "Let me try this again. Do you have enough money to eat for the rest of the week?"

"Yes," she answered wearily.

"Did you have to give up one of your vital organs?"

"Not unless you'd consider a few Paris originals life sustaining.” She apparently noticed his confusion and shook her head. "I sold my clothes. Is that what you needed to hear?” Her soft voice broke and she paused to take a deep breath before continuing. "Will you now be able to go home and sleep with an easy mind?"

"I doubt it." He expected her to say she’d begged, borrowed or stole the money but it never occurred to him that she’d sold her possessions.

Eyes averted, she slipped her feet into her sandals. "You've had a chance to cross examine me, Counselor. Let me ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

"Why are you so gung ho to build this casino?"

The question threw him. "What?"

"You and Aaron bargained with my life. I think I'm entitled to know."

"Money is power. I'm sure you know that."

"And power corrupts," she reminded him.  "Is that what you want for your people?"

"I want an escape from the driving poverty. The money generated will bring better living conditions, educational opportunities and health care."

"Do you believe it's really that simple?"

He nodded. "I believe it's within reach."

"I hope you're right. Then my time spent here might actually be worth something.” She sprinted to the house and disappeared inside without a backwards glance.

He stretched out in the lounge chair and closed his eyes. At least she was talking to him again. Not that he liked what she’d to say, but then he never liked hearing the truth about himself.

Chapter
Nine

Gillian sat cross legged on the bed. What was he doing out there? She’d been waiting to hear his car engine start so she could relax and get some sleep. Did he plan to spend the night in the front yard?

The man didn't have a shred of common sense. The night air was cold. The reported cases of rabid raccoons had doubled in the past year. If he was trying to make her feel guilty, then damn him, he’d succeeded.

She recalled the expression on his face when she’d asked about her father. Not only the genuine look of surprise, but the air of disgust. Maybe Hawk regretted his bargain with Aaron. Gillian groaned.  Was she really lying there feeling sorry for him? If she wasn't careful she would start making excuses for what he’d done to her.

Ten minutes later he still hadn’t left. She glanced out the window, hoping that he'd gone by foot, but the outline of his large frame was sprawled across the lounge chair. As long as Hawk remained outside, she wasn't going to be able to sleep. And he probably knew it, too!

She stormed out the front door and across the lawn. The motion detectors turned on the spotlights again.

Hawk bolted upright and shook his head. "What happened?"

"Go home."

He seemed more interested in her legs than her threatening stance. "Nice dress," he commented of the football jersey that came midway down her thighs. "And this is my home."

She pulled at the bottom of her shirt until it covered her knees. "This is your house," she corrected. "During the week it's my home. Go back to your yuppie condo-complex in the city and leave me alone."