Page 39 of Blazing Hot Nights
No, he really had no idea how hard it was to give him that pasture. There were so many memories there that would be lost to me once we signed those papers, but I had to hope my daddy would agree it was my only play on the board.
I drove in silence rather than answer him. When he said he knew how hard it must be, I realized that while we had shared some of ourselves, there was so much we hadn’t shared with each other. First, we were too hurt to talk about it. Then, as time went on, it was easier not to talk about it and risk tearing those wounds open again. I let out a shaky breath and blinked twice to force back the tears threatening at my lashes. If we were ever going to be more than neighbors, we were going to have to tear those wounds open and clean them out, or they’d fester forever.
I didn’t know if either one of us could take the first step required to make that happen. I didn’t know if I had the fortitude to go through the pain and terror it would require to help him understand what I saw the day Callie died. I didn’t know if his desire for me was strong enough to go through the pain it would require to wash the wounds and let them heal.
The truth was there staring me in the face, but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with when you were exhausted from the years of misunderstandings and hurt feelings. Desire was one thing. Forgiveness was something else entirely. Even if Blaze could forgive me for my part in Callie’s death, that didn’t mean I’d be able to forgive myself.
His warm, rough, giant hand rested on my shoulder, where he squeezed it every so often in acknowledgment of my pain and acceptance that he was partly to blame for it. I palmed the wheel into the small gas station he’d found and put the truck in park.
Before he could say anything about the tears running down my cheeks, I bailed out and dashed for the bathroom.
***
“Blaze, what is going on?” she asked as the road to the reservation came into sight. “Did you double-check your directions?”
I glanced at her for a moment before I put my foot back on the accelerator to give the truck a little bit of gas. “We’re in the right place.”
The people lining the sides of the road were peering at us as we approached. There were people of all ages, from babies in strollers to the elderly in wheelchairs. Some sat wrapped in sleeping bags, and others wore full ceremonial garb. When the truck reached the first people waiting, they stood silently, their eyes focused on nothing but the sky.
“Should we wave?” Heaven whispered, obviously uncomfortable with the unknown situation we were facing.
“No,” I said out of the corner of my mouth. “Whatever is happening is part of the tribe’s traditions and beliefs. I’m just going to drive to the meeting point and try not to hit anyone.”
Her eyes widened, and she bit back a snort. “Yeah. Probably wise not to hit anyone.”
Halfway down the road now, I checked the trailer in my side mirror, surprised by what I saw. “Look in your mirror.”
Her eyes darted there, and she gasped. “Chills,” she whispered as she watched the men, women, and children join the parade behind the trailer. Heaven lowered the window to brush off the dusty mirror. The woman in front had a painted hand drum she played, and the people behind her called back to her in a rhythm only they understood.
I had to concentrate on the road instead of the followers, which made me kind of sad. I was fascinated by their dedication to the animal I was delivering to them.
The trail ended up ahead in a parking area near a pasture. Waiting there stood the chief and other elders, all wearing traditional warbonnets and ceremonial buckskin trousers. They chanted as I pulled up, patiently waiting while I jockeyed the trailer around until it faced the gate of the pasture. I would have preferred a chute to get the bison out.
“Blaze, we can’t just open those trailer doors,” Heaven said, her voice higher pitched than usual as fear tightened it. “Someone is going to get hurt.”
“Relax, angel. We will talk to the chief and see what they have planned. If I don’t like it, we’ll think of something else,” I promised, turning and taking her chin in my hand. I held it loosely but caressed her soft skin with my thumb. “No one is going to get hurt. Just have a little faith in me, okay?”
“I do have faith in you, but I don’t trust the bison.” Her words were hesitant and filled with so much fear that my heart squeezed inside my chest. She suffered so much that day in the pasture, and I wish I had thought of that when I agreed to let her come with me.
“And youshouldn’ttrust a wild animal. I promise I won’t let you, or anyone else, get hurt, okay?” I only knew she nodded because I was holding her chin in my hand. “If you need to stay in the truck, that’s okay. I understand.”
I leaned in and kissed her lips for a half a moment before I rested my forehead against hers. Her eyes were still red from her tears earlier, and I rubbed at her temple with my thumb. She hadn’t told me what those tears were about. If I were a man who only saw what was on the surface, I would think she’d been crying about having to sell a piece of her daddy’s legacy.
I knew better.
Her tears had been about us. She was so beautiful but oh so broken. I wasn’t sure that I could ever piece her back together again. It was my fault she was shattered, and I wanted nothing more than to make her whole again. I just didn’t know how. I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to hold her pieces together until they mended. I wanted to believe I was, but she was so fragile that I worried I’d only do her more harm.
“What do we do now?” she whispered to break the spell she had over me.
I sat up, hating that we had to go out there and deal with this when I wanted to stay in this truck, take her to a hotel, lay her down on the bed, and show her my love in a way that would start connecting her broken pieces again.
Instead, I smiled and winked, then kissed her lips chastely. “I guess we get out. Wait for me to help you—”
Before I could finish the thought, the doors opened, and we were each escorted out of the truck, Heaven helped by the gentle arms of two women and taken to where the chief stood.
Everyone stopped chanting when we approached, the whole tribe falling silent as they waited for what was to come. The chief took his time introducing us to each of the elders, seemingly unhurried to see the animal inside the trailer. They were anxious, I could tell, but they would not rush into the moment. They would follow the traditions of their forefathers to ensure their good fortune if the animal was indeed a deity they never expected to see in their lifetime. If what I claimed to have for them was the real thing, nothing in their world would ever be the same. I could understand the apprehension and adoration that was palpable in the people that surrounded us.
“It is time,” the chief said to his elders.
