MM02 - Until Morning Comes (13 page)

She sat very still on the blanket, waiting for him to speak, letting him decide what he would tell her and letting him tell it in his own way.

“I was born Apache, grew up Apache, but something inside me longed for more. If there were cultural and social boundaries, I was determined to cross them. And I did. But in the process, I lost my identity.”

He walked along the rim of the canyon, challenging Fate. Twice his feet loosened rocks and sent them spinning to the canyon floor. Jo Beth put her hands over her mouth to keep from crying out. When he was almost too far away for her to see, he picked up a rock and flung it into space. From somewhere far below, a raven sounded its call.

Colter listened to the plaintive cry of the raven. Its lonesome sound was a foreboding. He knew what he must do. He guessed he'd known all along, but it had taken Clyde's accident to give him the push he needed.

He turned and looked back at Jo Beth, sitting on the blanket, her head resting quietly on her knees. She knows, he thought. Sorrow tore at him and a lonesome, primitive cry of despair ripped straight up from his heart. He bit back the cry so that it was no more than a moaning that blended with the winds in the canyon.

It is time, he said to himself. He went back to Jo and stood on the edge of the blanket, looking down at her.

“Are you cold, Jo?”

“No.” It was a lie. She was not cold on the outside, but inside she was a glacier.

He began his story without preliminaries, hoping that the quickness would lessen the pain.

“San Francisco cast its spell and wooed me away from my people. I came to visit. I was a good son in that respect. And four years ago, I even started building a clinic.”

“The one I saw?”

“Yes. I was on summer vacation here, and it seemed the right thing to do. My parents were pleased and honored. I left at the end of the summer, thinking I would finish the clinic on my next vacation. But when I came back it was too late.” He sat on the blanket, his legs crossed, his hands propped on his knees, staring at the darkening sky. “It was the following summer, three years ago. I got the call in the middle of the night. My father was sick.” He turned to look at her, and the raw emotion on his face made her cry out. “It was pancreatitis, Jo. And by the time I got here it was too late.”

“I'm so sorry, Colter.”

“While he lay dying, he called for me. I will never forget how his hand felt, dry and already turning cold. He said to me, 'Promise me... promise me that you will come home, Gray Wolf.' I made that promise, Jo. It was a promise I never kept.”

She came to him then. All his barriers were down, and she could comfort him. Circling one arm around him, she cradled his head against her shoulder.

“I betrayed him and I betrayed my people.”

“How can you say that?”

“If I had finished the clinic, my father might have lived. There was no hospital nearby, no good doctor. I let my father die.”

She stroked his hair. “Who do you think you are, Colter Gray Wolf? No man has the power over life and death.”

“When you're a doctor, Jo, you sometimes believe you do.”

She bent down and kissed the top of his head. “Thank you for confiding in me, Colter.”

Instead of answering, he straightened up and took her in his arms. With her head tucked under his chin, he hugged her close to his chest. They stayed that way a long while.

And then his hand began to caress her bare back. The strokes were slow and lazy at first. Gradually they became more sensuous. Shivers crawled along her skin.

She lifted her face to look at him. His eyes had become hooded.

“Jo,” he whispered.

She put her arms around his neck and their lips came together. All the pain he had bottled up for so long came pouring out, metamorphosed as passion. With his lips on hers, he unhooked her halter and pushed the soft chiffon aside. His hands cradled her back as he kissed her shoulders.

“Colter.” She tangled her hands in his hair, pulling him closer. “Ahh, Colter.”

He lowered her to the blanket and undressed her with great and tender care. The sky was so close, she could almost reach out and touch it. In its velvety dark reaches, one single star shone. She gazed straight at the star and wished the night would never end.

Colter hovered above her, memorizing her with his hands and chanting the ancient love songs of the Apache. He came to her, and it was like the first time, with its wonder and exquisite beauty.

They soared together, time and time again.

And Jo Beth knew he was saying good-bye. He never spoke her name. He didn't call her Yellow Bird. He didn't call her his woman. He spoke only two languages—the language of his people and the language of love.

And when it was over, he held her close. She pressed her face into the curve between his cheek and his shoulder.

“That was good-bye, wasn't it, Colter?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I'm a betrayer, Jo. I can't ask you to share my life until it's straightened out. I must atone for my sins.”

She never knew that love could hurt so much. The fear that had been building in her since she came to his mountain bubbled to the surface, and on its heel came anger, anger at Fate, anger at the past, anger at the Apache, and most of all, anger at him.

She raised herself on her elbow and looked at him. “And you want me to go home like an obedient woman and wait for you to decide when you're good enough for me?”

“I wouldn't put it like that, Jo.”

“Then how would you put it?”

He caught her shoulder. “You're angry. It's bad to make decisions while you're angry.”

“You've already made the decision, Colter.” She reached for her dress. “You're as stubborn as this rock.” She slapped her hand down on the blanket. “Nothing I can say or do at this point will change your mind.”

“You know me too well.”

He put on his jeans and reached to fasten her dress, but she stepped back.

“I might as well get used to doing this by myself.”

“Jo, I don't want you to go like this.”

“How do you want me to go, Colter? Laughing? Pretending that there's a Santa Claus and that he's going to come down my chimney next Christmas, bringing a ready and willing Apache doctor?”

“Don't, Jo.” He took her into his arms, stroking her stiff body until she yielded.

She clung to him. “I hate you for this, Colter.” Her voice was muffled against his chest.

“No, you don't. You're hurting right now. I'm so sorry it had to be this way.” He pressed his face into her hair. “If it's any consolation, I'm hurting too, Jo.”

She was silent a long time, filled with remorse. “Let me stay. Let me help you.”

“I have to do this alone.”

He swayed, rocking her in his arms, cradling her next to his heart. They stayed that way for a long time, and then he spoke.

“I want you to wait for me, Jo.”

“Colter, you've called me your woman and I’ve followed you. You've held out your hand and I've come to you.” She leaned away so she could look at his face. “I don't know what I'll do. I'm not a patient Apache. I'm just a Mississippi girl trying to endure the best way I know how.”

“Don't underestimate yourself. You not only endure, you triumph.” He whistled for his horse, then leaned down and kissed her tenderly on the lips. It was time to let her go. Fate had brought her and Fate was taking her away. “Be safe, Jo. Be happy.”

She wondered how he expected her to be happy with a broken heart.

“You, too. Colter.”

He picked up the blanket, slung it on the stallion, and mounted. Jo didn't wait for him to hold out his hand. That small, familiar gesture would have been enough to send her over the edge. She was already too close to a crying jag for her comfort.

She reached up for him, and he pulled her onto the stallion. Together they rode off into the darkness, taking the long and safe way home.

She held on to him on their long ride back, but it was almost as if she were touching a stranger. Colter had already separated himself from her mentally. For all the communication there was between them, she might as well have been in Mississippi.

o0o

It was late by the time they reached his home. Colter rode straight into the barn and silently dismounted. He held his arms up to Jo Beth, and she automatically slid into them.

For a moment he held her close. She pressed her cheek against his chest so she could hear the steady thumping of his heart.

“My heart is naked, Jo,” he whispered. “It bleeds.”

“Mine, too.”

She lifted her head and looked into his face. “There is another way, Colter.”

“No. One life in limbo is enough.”

She thought briefly about arguing, but she knew that in the end it would be useless. If she'd learned one thing about Colter, it was his determination to behave nobly. Instead of arguing, she traced the lines of his face with her fingers.

“The camera can't capture this,” she said. “The texture of your skin, the proud bone structure, the fine glow, as if God had hidden a sunset just underneath your skin.”

“Jo...” He caught her hand and kissed the palm. He was tempted to change his mind. Almost, he asked her to stay. His eyes darkened with pain as he released her and stepped back. “I’ll see to Chieftain.”

“Yes. He's had a hard day.”

She left the barn quickly so Colter wouldn't see the tears. The minute she turned her back to him, they spilled down her cheeks.

“I won't cry,” she said.

Her dog came up and pushed against her legs, rubbing his big head on her calves in joyful greeting. She knelt beside him. Colter's brother and his wife had taken care of Zar and Little Deer, driving them home after the accident in the canyon.

“I'm glad to see you too, boy.” The red-gold tail thumped the ground. “You might as well pack your bags, Zar. We're going home.”

She wiped her face with the back of her hand, went into the house, and found Little Deer waiting for them in the den. Suddenly, it occurred to her that she had more than one good-bye to say.

Little Deer sat in the rocking chair, her hands folded and her face serene. “The trip was successful.”

Jo sat facing her on the sofa. “Yes.”

Little Deer nodded. “Gray Wolf always succeeds. He is destined for greatness.”

“I believe so.”

The clock on the wall marked time while Little Deer rocked and Jo Beth pondered. At last she decided there was no easy way to say good-bye.

“I'll be leaving tomorrow, Little Deer.”

“My child, yesterday that would have made me happy.”

Jo Beth smiled. “Thank you, Little Deer.”

“Will you come back?”

“I don't know.”

Little Deer stared into space a long time before she spoke. “You will come back. Gray Wolf has chosen you. He will not let you go.”

Jo Beth started to say that he already had, but she decided that would be a betrayal.

“I'll send you the pictures, Little Deer. I’ll call from time to time to find out how you are.”

“Your heart is good, Jo Beth. My son has chosen wisely.”

Jo Beth couldn't say more for the lump in her throat. Instead, she went to the old woman and kissed her cheek. Then she quickly left the room.

o0o

Colter stayed in the barn longer than necessary. There was a heaviness in him that was more than fatigue. It was the heaviness of despair. When Jo Beth had walked out of the barn, he had felt all the poetry and music of his soul go with her.

He sat on a bale of hay and tried to analyze the situation objectively. But love made objectivity impossible. That was the only consolation he had at the moment: He had never told her he loved her. He had never made promises to her that he couldn't keep.

The house was dark when he finally left the barn and went inside. It was just as well. He felt drained of all feeling, drained of life.

He made his way to his wing of the house and prepared for bed. The sheets looked inviting after the trying day, and he lay upon them naked. From deep within the sleeping house came the sounds of night—a muted groaning as the old wooden floors settled down to rest, a soft scurrying as the house mouse came out looking for crumbs, a muted tapping as the north wind rose and banged the shutters against the outside walls.

The darkness brought more than night noises:

It brought need so sharp he cried out. He rose from his bed and walked to the window. Jo Beth and the night went together. He had become addicted to her. As he looked out at the blackness, he knew she was an addiction he would never be rid of. Nor did he want to be rid of her. He would hold her next to his heart always.

He stood at the window, gazing into the endless night.

o0o

Jo Beth woke up when the first rays of light came through her window. During the night she had decided that partings were best done quickly. She had also decided to go out with style. It was the McGill way. Tears and groaning didn't lessen the pain.

She dressed and began to pack her bags, being careful not to make noises and wake Little Deer. The packing didn't take long. She was holding the last item, the blue chiffon dress, when Colter spoke.

“I will always remember that dress.”

She turned slowly, still holding the blue dress. He was leaning against the door frame watching her, his arms folded across his broad chest.

“How long have you been there, Colter?”

“Long enough to question my judgment a hundred times.”

She gave him a smile she hoped looked jaunty and carefree. “You were right. This never would have worked.”

She folded the dress quickly and stuffed it into her suitcase. Then she snapped the lid so the dress would be out of sight. She didn't want any reminders of that good-bye on the mountain.

“I don't know why I ever believed I could be your woman, Colter. I simply don't have time. Anyway, I still don't believe in love.”

“Don't, Jo.”

“Don't what?”

“Don't deny what we had.”

“What did we have?”

“Something beautiful.”

She almost lost her nerve. Almost, but not quite.

“It was great while it lasted. You're a superb lover. I'm going to mark that interlude in the desert as one of the best times I've ever had.”