Warrior in Her Bed (9 page)

“Come to bed,” she enjoined Johnny, pulling back the covers and revealing her nakedness to him.

Lying in the dark waiting for him, Annie had come to the unalterable realization that her feelings for this man could not be weighed against wisdom. The heart was a foolish creature that refused to be denied. That theirs was destined to be a short-lived relationship did nothing whatsoever to lessen her desire. Rather
it merely intensified the passion stirring in every fiber of her being.

Sensing that something was wrong when he didn't immediately start taking off his clothes to join her, she sat up in bed.

“What's wrong?”

“Why didn't you tell me that you've done this before,” Johnny asked quietly.

“What?”

With his silence Johnny reprimanded her for the needless inquiry.

Aching to hold him in her arms, she tugged him toward a kiss that she hoped would put an end to this discussion. “I'd rather not talk about it,” she said.

But Johnny would have none of it. As if insulted by her refusal to talk to him, he pulled away from her. He stood up to go. “Why would someone with your considerable skills keep them a secret? What are you so ashamed of that you're afraid to share with me?”

In spite of the heat of the night, Annie felt a shiver run through her. She pulled the sheet up to her chin. “I have nothing to be ashamed of—except my own stupidity.”

Johnny sat back down, put his arms around her and held her tight. Her skin felt like satin against his fingertips. Regretting his need to push her past her level of comfort, he nevertheless felt entitled to know more about her past than she had been willing to share up until now. “Go on,” he urged, feeling her tremble.

Annie's voice was a monotone as she began. “Once upon a time, not so very long ago, I was a
counselor at an inner-city school in Chicago. One day something terrible happened, and I decided to take a well-deserved sabbatical and put that part of my life behind me. End of story.”

She wasn't surprised that Johnny wasn't satisfied with such a bare-bones version of the facts.

Refusing to be put off so easily, Johnny's intuition led him straight to the heart of the matter. “Does it have something to do with the baby picture in the other room?”

Feeling her stiffen, Johnny knew that he had struck a soft spot. Not about to let her out of his arms, he petted her hair, gently encouraging her to gather the strength to confide in him. Rocking her in his arms, he whispered tender endearments in her ear. It had the desired effect. Annie went limp in his arms as she unlocked the last tear-spattered chapter in her life.

“There was a girl about the same age as Crimson Dawn, who was a single mother. She was understandably overwhelmed with the responsibility of raising a child by herself. One day, completely out of the blue, she marched into my office, burst into tears and thrust her baby into my arms, begging me to take care of her. Before I could get her calmed down, she ran out of the school and simply disappeared.”

“You took the child in?” Johnny surmised correctly. He had a sinking feeling about where this story was going and steeled himself to hear it out to its natural conclusion.

“Only after contacting the proper authorities and doing everything possible to locate the mother.” Annie was unable to conceal the bitterness in her voice.
“I was made her temporary foster mother, and the adoption paperwork was begun.”

“You came to love the child.”

“As if she were my own. Her name was Laurel, and she was the sweetest baby ever put on this earth. Oh, Johnny, she was so beautiful.”

Annie choked on her words. Suddenly she was sobbing uncontrollably against the wall of Johnny's strong chest. She didn't think she had any tears left, but this man's quiet empathy moved her like pity or outrage could not. Outside an owl hooted, searching for a mate. It was the most lonesome sound in the world.

“The drive-by shootings and gang fights and teen suicides that were a daily part of my life were nothing compared to the despair I felt when the girl waltzed back into my life all refreshed from her cross-country road trip, demanding Laurel back.”

The words flowed from Annie in a torrent of pain. Wrapping himself around her like a blanket of comfort, Johnny gave her permission to fall apart in his arms. Whatever he had expected to hear, it hadn't been this. Annie's experience was, in its own way, as traumatic as anything he had experienced in the field of duty. No wonder she was suffering from compassion fatigue. No wonder she had been so hesitant about getting involved in Crimson's personal problems.

Johnny felt her tears fall upon his shirt and soak into his heart. He was almost sorry for pushing her to divulge such agonizing events—events which were obviously out of her control. Nonetheless it explained a great deal about her. And made him understand why he loved her so.

It also made him feel very small for not being able to put his feelings for her into words and for his own unwillingness to similarly share his own dark secrets with her. He kissed the top of her head. Her hair smelled of shampoo and wildflowers. And felt like golden silk.

Sobs racked her body.

“You wouldn't believe what that girl said to me…the names she called me. Baby thief, dried-up spinster, prune womb…”

Feeling as if she couldn't breathe, Annie's voice cracked. She struggled to continue.

“She said if I wanted a baby so badly, instead of stealing hers, I should just go out and get myself pregnant if I wasn't too old and dried-up to find a man who would want me for a one-night stand.”

Johnny's hands clenched into fists. He felt so damned helpless. How he would like to get his hands on the irresponsible little monster! No wonder Annie had been so hurt when he initially accused her of butting into her students' private lives. He flinched against the memory of the callous words he had hurled at her.

What you can do for me, Ms. Wainwright, is stick to teaching stained glass and stop putting that pretty little nose of yours into your students' personal lives.

Johnny wanted to rip his tongue from his mouth and offer it up to Annie on a silver platter as penance.

“Sometimes people say cruel things without meaning them,” he said in all sincerity. “That girl probably just lashed out at you because she was ashamed of what she'd done. I'm sure she was afraid that the court would brand her an unfit mother and grant you custody of Laurel.”

“But they didn't,” Annie cried out bitterly, bringing her hands down hard upon Johnny's chest in frustration at the memory. “Because she was the birth mother, I had no rights at all as far as the legal system was concerned. You can't understand the agony of having a baby ripped from your arms, your heart ripped from your chest. I couldn't bring myself to go back to school after that. I didn't have anything left to give the students there. I felt gutted. Violated. That's why I left, why I applied for a job here. I thought teaching others how to make something beautiful out of bits of glass might help me heal. I could no longer presume to give anyone else advice on how to run their lives when mine was in such shards.”

She strangled on her words.

“Shush,” Johnny whispered. As much as he hated putting her through this, he suspected the hurt she carried deep inside her would never go away if she didn't face it now.

Who could blame her for attempting to smooth out the jagged pieces of her life with a glass grinder? Nonetheless, after seeing her in action with his distraught niece earlier, Johnny knew that this woman was truly gifted. Good counselors were hard to find. He was in the process of looking for one for the fall term right now. The thought of offering Annie the position was appealing in many respects. The primary one being that leading her back to her true calling would extend her tenure here indefinitely. Lately Johnny couldn't even imagine life without her.

“From the little I've seen, you're an extraordinary counselor and someday you will be a wonderful mother. Trust me.”

A vision of Annie surrounded by a passel of children flooded his mind. It didn't take any effort for him to see himself tenderly nibbling the back of her neck as she stood over a cradle rocking a black-haired babe who looked just like him. Johnny forced the idyllic picture from his mind by firmly reminding himself that he was not fit husband material. Annie deserved a whole lot better than him. Right now he didn't feel fit to kiss her feet.

Having vowed to never be on the receiving end of another Dear John letter, it was very important to him to always be in control of his emotions. Whether he liked to admit it or not, the truth of the matter was he hadn't felt in control since the first time he had seen Annie and felt the wind knocked right out of him.

He didn't know what he had said that set her to crying even harder than ever, but whatever it was, he regretted it deeply.

“I was pregnant once,” she said between sobs. “And I lost my baby.”

Annie squeezed her eyes shut against the memory. Unable to share any more of her soul with him tonight, she leaned against him and took comfort in the strength he offered.

Though intensely curious about what had happened to the man who had fathered her baby, Johnny took his cue from Annie. He would ask no more questions tonight. Instead he turned her in his arms and kissed away her tears. They left salt on his lips and tracks upon his soul.

“You can always have more children,” he assured her softly. “One thing is for certain. You'll never
have any trouble keeping a man in your bed for longer than one night if you want him there.”

He could not have said anything that could have acted as a better balm to Annie's wounded spirit. She saw no reason to tell him that the pregnancy in and of itself had sent the young father running from her bed faster than he had set the state high school track record for the eight-hundred-meter relay. She wanted to put the past behind her. Having purged herself, she turned to the man who was with her at the moment. A man who didn't judge her for past mistakes and made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

Subconsciously she was afraid that if Johnny knew she had ever allowed herself to be some fickle young jock's one-night stand, it would make it all that much easier for him to discard her at the end of the summer. Holding on to the last shred of her dignity, she wound her arms around his neck and hungrily sought his lips.

He tasted of sweet redemption.

 

Removing the last of his clothes, Johnny pulled back the sheet that covered Annie. Lowering himself to her, he proceeded to lose himself in her sweetness. Never before had he felt such a need to be so tender a lover. She felt so very fragile in his arms. And greedy for what he had to offer her—the solace of his body and the chance to blot out the pain of her past with immediate pleasures of the body.

His studied gentleness stirred Annie to a level of sensitivity that she had not known existed anywhere outside the sonnets of timeless poets. His tenderness undid her—and emboldened her. Annie opened her
self to him completely, holding nothing of herself back. She urged him with word and action not to treat her as a breakable doll but rather as a woman made strong by hardship; made whole by his love. Running her fingernails along the breadth of his shoulders, she unintentionally marked him as her own. The endearments he murmured in her ear in his native language were magical incantations that carried her to the pinnacle of desire.

When Johnny entered her, the embers of a sacred fire banked deep inside burst into flame. They burned white-hot. Having unlocked her past, the gift of her body was made all the more precious by the sacrifice she had made in unlocking her past and subjecting it to his scrutiny. Annie knew that it was wrong to cast all men into the same lot as the scared, selfish boy who had abandoned her when she needed him the most. The scars Johnny carried on his body like badges of honor marked him as a warrior who did not run away when the going got tough.

The muscles rippling beneath his golden skin put Annie in mind of a wild cougar. Holding such a creature in her arms made her feel powerful. She was proud to be wanted by a man so strong, so gentle and so brave. The sensation of bare flesh against flesh drove out all thoughts of tomorrow and exorcised the ghosts of the past. Time dissolved into nothingness as the present demanded its due. Whatever happened in the future, Annie would always carry this holy moment with her. She would never forget it. Never regret it.

When Annie called out his name, Johnny felt himself her savior.

As she was his.

When his seed spilled into her, she silently rejoiced. Overcome with emotion, he had neglected to use protection tonight. The possibility of carrying this man's child filled her with a sense of wonder and joy. As his warmth spread though her, she purposely held it dear unto herself. Spent emotionally and physically, the two of them fell into a heavy, mystical sleep wrapped in each other's arms.

F
og covered the ground making it impossible to see. Flailing blindly forward, Johnny hunted for his fellow soldiers using the sounds of their dying screams to guide him. The mountain on which he found himself was built on human skulls that crunched eerily beneath his feet with each step he took.

“Over here!”

“No, over here!”

“No, here!”

A tumult of voices called out from every direction.

Stumbling, Johnny fell into a pool of muck and gore. “I'm in hell,” he thought to himself. He wiped his face with the sleeve of his uniform to see Michael curled up in a blood-spattered fetal ball.

“It's me, buddy. I'm here,” Johnny told him, reaching out to gather his best friend in his arms
and carry him to safety. “I'll get you out. I promise.”

“Get the others first. I'll be okay. I'm not hurt that bad,” Michael implored, disappearing into the mist before Johnny could lay his hands upon him.

“Help me!”

“No me!”

Reed thin, the voices that beseeched Johnny belonged to the ghosts of war.

In this recurring dream Johnny's task was to single-handedly carry all of his fallen comrades through a minefield that stretched as far as the eye could see in every direction. He struggled to fight his way to consciousness, but it was like swimming from the bottom of the ocean to a distant surface.

“Over here! I'm dying….”

Bloody arms waved before Johnny's face. Hands reached out of open graves to claw desperately at his ankles. All around, bombs were going off as he passed through the killing field time and time again. His arms grew tired. Each man that he rescued doubled in weight.

Carrying the burden of an entire world gone mad, Johnny's every step required superhuman strength. When at last the fog began to lift, only one man remained on the front line. The weak sound of Michael's voice called out to him, but by the time Johnny reached him, he had no pulse. The wound that he had claimed as superficial spilled his guts upon the ground.

The screams that echoed in Johnny's mind were his own.

 

Outside, a summer thunderstorm recreated the sound of bombs exploding. The reverberations shook
him from his fitful sleep. Hail pelting the metal roof mimicked the steady rat-a-tat of machine-gun fire. Johnny awoke with a start, sheathed in sweat, with a sheet twisted about his torso.

Hovering above him was an angel. In all of the pictures Johnny had seen of heaven, all the angels were portrayed as blue-eyed blondes. This particular one looked just like Annie. Obviously, there had been some mistake, and he'd been sent to the wrong place. With his dark skin and eyes and his checkered past, he figured he would have a heck of a time fitting in.

“Are you all right?”

It was no coincidence that she sounded like Annie, too. Reaching out to touch her, Johnny was amazed to discover this angel was made of flesh and blood. It took him a long moment to realize that he was neither in heaven nor hell as he reoriented himself to his surroundings.

It took him an even longer moment to quiet his pounding heartbeat.

Annie was sitting up, clutching a pillow to her chest. She was studying him intently. In the moonlight coming through her lacy curtains, he saw only fear etched on her beatific features. Such nightmares made him reticent about sharing any woman's bed—especially any he cared about beyond the physical escape they willingly offered him. On the rare occasions when he sought feminine companionship, or more often when they pursued him, Johnny made a point of slipping away before the morning light. If they asked for a reason, he simply claimed that he had to get home to feed Smokey.

“Did I scare you?” he asked, his voice croaky with residual fear, left over from reliving such a hellish scene. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be,” Annie told him.

Wanting nothing more than to reciprocate with the same comfort he had offered when she had bared her soul to him, Annie was determined not to be easily pushed aside.

But Johnny would have none of it. Ashamed of his weakness, he turned away, using his back as a wall to separate them.

“Please don't shut me out,” Annie implored.

She put a hand tenderly upon his shoulder, entreating him not to hide any perceived weakness from her. When he responded with nothing more than stony silence, she flattened herself against his back and wrapped her arms around him. She felt the quiver that ran through him. He tried to shake her off, but she only tightened her grip.

“I know you don't want to hear this,” she told him. “But I'm going to say it, anyway. Not because I have to, but because I want to. I love you, Johnny Lonebear.”

He went perfectly still in her arms. Annie kissed the back of his neck and nibbled on an earlobe before whispering an assurance intended to set his mind at ease.

“Please understand that those three little words come without obligation. I just want you to know that absolutely nothing in your past can change the way I feel about you. Nothing.”

Certain that a woman of such sensibilities could not possibly love him if she were to know the horrors he had witnessed, Johnny refrained from offering her
any false hope on that account. As much as he longed to reverse positions and offer her the safety of his arms, he remained taciturn.

“Loving me isn't a safe choice. Or a wise one.”

The warning sent a cold ripple of laughter through Annie.

“It's not exactly a choice. If it were, I'd probably just run away again. It's a feeling, Johnny, the strongest I've ever felt in my life. I couldn't change it if I wanted to, which I don't. You've become as much a part of me as breathing.”

Her words reached deep inside Johnny and struck a chord of authenticity. He knew exactly how she felt. Her scent upon his pillow had imprinted upon his brain. She, too, was in every breath he took. Never far from his thoughts, Annie occupied all of his senses.

The only reason he felt at all inclined to argue was for her own good.

“I'll only let you down,” he said gruffly.

“Like you think you let Michael down?” she asked, repeating the name he had called out repeatedly in his sleep.

“Yes!”

The word exploded from his lips like a bullet and twisted Johnny around hard. Facing Annie directly, he gave her the ugly truth.

“My best friend died because he put his trust in me. Tell me, how does it feel to lie in bed with a man who has his best friend's blood on his hands?”

Though the self-reproach in his voice scalded like acid, Annie did not draw away in revulsion as he had imagined she would. As if trying to breathe for them both, she filled her lungs with air, and when she
spoke again, it was with a calm that belied her racing pulse.

“They don't give Purple Hearts to men who fail in their duty.”

Annie put a quieting finger to his lips to keep him from interrupting. She silenced him with a tenderness born of deep respect for what he had suffered in the name of patriotism.

“Shhh… You never have to tell me the details if you don't want to. Just know that any perceived failure on your part has been paid for a million times over in the pain you suffer still—and in the hope you are giving a new generation through Dream Catchers. In case there's any doubt in your own mind about it, you are the best man I've ever had the privilege to know and love, Johnny Lonebear. Michael forgave you long ago. Now it's time for you to forgive yourself.”

The tears that Johnny swallowed were silent ones that burned the back of his throat and filled his gut with regret. Maybe she was right. Michael himself was the one who had refused help until the last man of his battalion had been rescued first. Johnny knew that if the situation had been reversed, he likely would have done the same thing. It is the duty of the commanding officer to put his men's lives before his own. The medal Michael had received posthumously could not have gone to a braver man. Had Johnny not been in the hospital recuperating from his wounds, he would have liked to pin his own Purple Heart upon his deceased friend's uniform on the day of his funeral.

No matter how much sense Annie made, viscerally Johnny couldn't help but worry that he would ulti
mately let her down, too. The thought cut like a razor.

“Stay with me, Johnny,” she begged. “Please. For the rest of the night, at least. Preferably for the rest of the summer.”

For the rest of my life…

Though her soul implored her to say the words aloud, her mouth refused to comply. She had said enough for one night. Perhaps for one lifetime. All she could do was offer this good man her heart for a pillow and hope he didn't leave it too tearstained when he was done with her.

 

A raging wildfire moved more slowly than gossip did on the reservation. Johnny had barely moved in with Annie before everybody knew about it. The fact that he brought his beloved dog along was indicative of how serious he must be about the she-devil that Ester claimed had bewitched him. The elders lifted eyebrows but publicly said nothing on the matter. Some of the more vocal mothers clucked their disapproval about an authority figure from the school setting a bad example for their children by choosing to live in sin. Most of the men jabbed each other in the ribs and whispered ribald remarks. Several hopeful females were openly jealous that the most eligible bachelor on the reservation had been temporarily taken off the market. That a white woman was the cause of their distress made some of their comments all the more catty.

Johnny was used to rumors swirling about him like poisonous gas. As long as Annie remained by his side, he doubted whether anybody would have the gall to offer an opinion on the subject. Indeed, when
ever they attended any of the community functions that Johnny was expected to attend, his guest was always extended polite hospitality. She responded in kind.

In fact, Annie was so unassuming and genuinely respectful of their tribal culture that it truly was hard not to like her. As word of mouth spread the popularity of her stained-glass classes, more than one patron approached members of the school board asking if the courses could be extended into the regular school term. Ester was reduced to glaring at her from a distance at social gatherings.

Annie assumed that whatever Johnny had said to her the night her daughter had run away must have put an end to any open warfare on his sister's part. Against his advice, she made a point of introducing herself to Ester at a charity auction for a young local who had been diagnosed with a rare blood disease. Annie had just bought an unframed painting that Crimson Dawn had donated to the fund-raiser. It was a magnificent piece of work entitled
Hope Rising
in which an eagle was depicted spreading its wings upon a breeze that lifted it far above a winding river-carved canyon. Dawn broke upon the horizon in vivid hues of crimson. The symbolism was as unmistakable as the determination gleaming from the young eagle's eyes.

Annie herself donated a window-size, stained-glass depiction of an Indian paintbrush wildflower, which she had made specially for the occasion. A close personal friend of the sick boy's family, Ester grudgingly acknowledged the quality of the piece and the generosity of its creator. It brought a fetching price at the auction.

“I'm just glad to help in any way I can,” Annie said, graciously choosing to avoid any discussion of Crimson Dawn or Johnny unless the other woman chose to initiate it.

Checking first to see that Johnny was still positioned clear across the gymnasium floor visiting with some of his buddies, Ester cagily broached the subject herself.

“I do appreciate the part you played in making my daughter come home the other day.”

Though Annie thought the words sounded as if they were lodged crosswise in Ester's throat, she was nonetheless grateful that Johnny had given his sister the impression that she had been instrumental in encouraging Crimson Dawn to make peace with her mother.

“I doubt anyone can
make
that girl do anything she doesn't want to,” she replied with a rueful smile intended to put the other woman at ease.

Ester nodded her head in agreement. “Isn't that God's honest truth?”

Glad to let it go at that, Annie eased out of the other woman's way. It was enough for one day to simply make each other's acquaintance and establish a polite basis for any future relationship. Annie feared that any further attempt on her part to intervene on Crimson Dawn's behalf would be akin to stepping between a sow bear and her cub. She had no desire to be torn limb from limb. Having previously been demonized by those she wanted to help, Annie preferred avoiding unnecessary confrontations.

Once again she reminded herself of her limited role as a short-timer here. The thought of leaving
weighed heavily on her heart. All the warnings that she had issued to herself about not getting involved in these people's lives had been for naught. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, Annie was involved right up to her eyelashes.

As much as she enjoyed being included in community functions, she truly cherished the limited time that she was able to spend alone with Johnny. For a man who had lived by himself all of his adult life, he was amazingly good company. He was also an expert on the grill with all kinds of specialties. In her opinion elk steaks were the tastiest of the wild meats that he prepared for her so far. Annie also found that she was partial to venison and pheasant, but she simply couldn't get rattlesnake past her nose, no matter how much Johnny insisted it tasted like chicken.

He also claimed that fresh trout was excellent broiled on the grill and set out to prove it to her one lazy Saturday. After outfitting her with the appropriate fishing gear from his own personal stockpile, they went down to the nearest bait shop, the Crow's Nest, where he purchased a reservation fishing license for her. Hoping to save him some money, Annie insisted on a one-day permit only.