Текст книги "Native Affairs"
Автор книги: Doreen Malek Owens
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Текущая страница: 23 (всего у книги 37 страниц)
“But you’re not sure anything is going on between them.”
“No, I’m not. But I noticed something at his house that only half registered at the time, and the more I think about it, the surer I am that Dawn is staying with Lee.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, when I was there I passed this sort of guest room that he has, and there were bags on the floor, and personal items about, as if someone were occupying it And I think I know who that someone is.”
Marilyn waved her hand in the air. “That doesn’t prove anything. You said she was an old friend. If he has the room, why shouldn’t she stay there?”
“I know, I know. But the idea of it doesn’t make me too happy.”
Marilyn pulled at her lower lip thoughtfully. “Has it occurred to you that he might be using this Dawn as a shield, retreating to the familiar in defense against his feelings for you?”
Jennifer rubbed her forehead distractedly. “Even if that’s true, how does it help me? I don’t want to be someone he has to erect barriers against for fear of losing his identity. And I’ll tell you something else. Even if I could transform myself into a full-blooded Siksikai, I wouldn’t do it I have my pride, too. If he can’t take me as I am, and accept me for what I am, then he has no real regard for me anyway.”
Marilyn smiled. “Spoken like Seamus Gardiner’s daughter.”
“Up the rebels,” Jennifer responded, and they both laughed.
Marilyn glanced at the clock on the wall. “I’ve got to go, I was only able to get Barbara to stay with Jeff for a couple of hours.” She regarded Jennifer closely. “Are you going to be all right?”
“Of course. I’ll deal with it.”
Marilyn didn’t look convinced. “Call me if you feel like you want to talk again.”
“I will.”
The apartment seemed very empty after Marilyn left Jennifer trudged back to the bedroom to dig out from under the avalanche, hoping that the work would make her tired enough to sleep.
* * * *
The season began, and Lee’s personal appearances came to an end as the games got underway. Jennifer didn’t see him anymore in connection with work, and after the manner of their last parting, she knew he wouldn’t call her. So she contented herself with memories of their night together and spent a lot of time daydreaming, lost in thought.
“You look tired,” Dolores said bluntly one morning. They were settling down to work in Jennifer’s office.
Jennifer was tired. She found herself taking naps at odd times, but ascribed the fatigue to depression.
When Jennifer didn’t respond, Dolores tried another tack. “I saw your ex on a talk show last night,” she said brightly. “He’s taking flying lessons.”
“From what I remember of his drinking habits, he will rarely need a plane,” Jennifer answered.
“Hostility,” Dolores said. “A lot of hostility there, Jen.” Dolores had been attending an encounter group and was lately given to such observations.
“My experience with Bob entitles me to a little hostility,” Jennifer said. “Now are we going to get these letters out, or what?”
Dolores ignored the question and started snapping dead leaves off the Swedish ivy plant hanging in the window. “Have you seen Lee Youngson since the company dinner?” she asked, too casually.
“No.”
Dolores tossed the brown vegetation into the trash, wiping her hands on her skirt. “So that is the reason for this funk.”
“Dolores—” Jennifer began.
Dolores stabbed an index finger at her. “No, Jen, don’t shut me up. I may not be Einstein, but anyone can see that something is wrong with you. You’re going around like an extra on the set of The Night of the Living Dead. Don’t you plan on doing anything about it?”
Jennifer turned in her swivel chair and deliberately looked out the window. “No.”
Dolores folded her arms and leaned against Jennifer’s desk. “It’s not one-sided, you know.”
Jennifer revolved back in her direction.
Dolores fluffed her hair with her fingers. “Did you ever see that old movie with Bing Crosby and Grace Kelly?”
Oh, God. Was this going to be another one of Dolores’ flights of fancy? Jennifer was in no mood for “Hollywood Squares” today.
“Which one?” Jennifer said patiently.
“Ah, let me see, I can’t think...oh, yes. The Country Girl. It’s about an alcoholic actor and his wife, and the director who falls in love with her.”
“Sure, I remember it Grace Kelly won an Oscar.”
“Well, the husband knows his wife and the director are in love, but they’re trying to hide it. And at one point he says to them, The only thing more obvious than two people looking longingly at one another is two people trying not to.’” Dolores looked meaningfully at Jennifer. “I was watching the two of you at the Stratford, and for some reason, that line just came to mind.”
Jennifer got the message. Every once in a while Dolores surprised her. It was easy to forget that behind that airhead exterior was a keen observer of the human condition.
“Why aren’t you going after him?” Dolores persisted.
Jennifer sighed. “It’s...complicated, Dolores.”
Dolores looked skeptical. “It must be. But I’ll tell you one thing, if he were as interested in me as he seems to be in you, I wouldn’t be spending my days in a trance.”
That was undoubtedly true. Dolores was never one to let any grass grow under her feet where men were concerned.
“I believe you. Now can we get to these letters?”
Dolores whipped out her steno pad and waved it under Jennifer’s nose, muttering under her breath, and then sat with her pen poised above the paper, waiting.
Jennifer set to work.
* * * *
Jennifer persuaded Marilyn to go to a Freedom game with her the following weekend. At first Marilyn hesitated, thinking that it would be rubbing salt in Jennifer’s wounds to see Lee play. But Jennifer’s insistence became pathetic. It was obvious that Jennifer needed to see Lee, even if it was from a distance, and Marilyn eventually gave in to her.
Jennifer used her connections to get seats on the fifty yard line, reserved for a season ticket holder who would be out of town for the weekend. They were right behind the Freedom’s bench and had a clear view of the players.
Marilyn’s knowledge of football was even more limited than Jennifer’s, which meant that it was meager indeed. She spent the entire game jabbing Jennifer in the ribs, asking “What’s going on?” and “Why are they doing that?” Jennifer usually didn’t know the answer, and so a lot of what happened down below sailed right over their heads. But they made up in enthusiastic response what they lacked in understanding.
Lee was called out of the game for a rest during the second quarter. He took off his helmet and sat hunched forward with his elbows on his knees, staring at the game. Jennifer could see that his hair was plastered to his skull with perspiration. An assistant coach came by and handed him a towel, and Lee rubbed his head briskly with it, then left it draped around his neck. He went back to watching the action on the field, nodding as another player bent to say something to him in passing.
The Freedom was ahead 21-7 at the break. Jennifer and Marilyn went to get soft drinks during the half time show.
“Has it helped to see him?” Marilyn asked as they sipped soda and watched the crowd milling around them.
“I don’t know,” Jennifer answered. “I do know that I feel like a voyeur, watching him this way.”
Marilyn made a face. “If you’re a voyeur, so are the fifty thousand other people in the stands with us.”
Jennifer crumpled her waxy cup and tossed it in a receptacle. “You know what I mean.”
Marilyn acknowledged that she did.
The game had resumed by the time they got back to their seats. They arrived just in time to see Lee make a spectacular run as the crowd leaped, screaming, to its feet. Marilyn was riveted, motionless, as she watched Lee outwit and outmaneuver his way downfield.
“He’s poetry in motion, isn’t he?” she said to Jennifer, raising her voice to make herself heard over the surrounding noise.
“Yes, he is.”
She continued to watch as Lee was finally brought to the ground. It took three opposing players to do it.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Marilyn commented as the teams reassembled and the onlookers took their seats again, quieting down for the next play.
Jennifer had to laugh. “Of course, you haven’t. You’ve never seen a football game.”
But Marilyn wasn’t listening, as caught up as the rest of the fans in anticipation of another dazzling display.
Jennifer smiled to herself. Another convert.
The Freedom won, 28-14.
* * * *
The two women went to Bookbinder’s for dinner. They were lucky to get in without a reservation, but they ate early, right after the game, before the evening rush.
Marilyn had baked scrod and Jennifer had oyster stew. Marilyn watched Jennifer crumbing crackers into her untouched soup and said, “Why don’t you call him?”
Jennifer closed her eyes. That suggestion ranked right up there with the offer of a cruise on the Titanic.
“All right, all right, don’t call him. Let’s take a walk to the Newmarket instead, look around at the shops. That’ll take your mind off him.”
Jennifer doubted it, but as an idea it was an improvement over the first one. Marilyn ate as Jennifer toyed with her food awhile longer, and then they walked out into the early autumn dusk.
Society Hill was busy on this Saturday night, with couples strolling hand in hand, and families out for a little exercise. A brisk breeze blew in from the nearby Delaware, making it seem cooler than it actually was. Jennifer and Marilyn cruised the stores, and Jennifer charged a lace shawl she couldn’t afford in an effort to lift her spirits. They would plunge again when she got the bill.
They left the shopping area and walked through the restored section fronting the river, which was paved with brick and sported colonial streetlamps and reproduced period facades on the houses. One block from the water was a new condominium complex, a high-rise, where the apartments cost a fortune. Harold Salamone lived there, along with several of the city’s top businessmen.
“How about going to Scruples with me tonight?” Marilyn said brightly as they crossed the street to stand looking out across the bay. “Jeff is staying with my mother and I have the evening free.”
“Marilyn, it is not necessary to supervise me.”
“Who’s supervising?” Marilyn said innocently. “You know that guy I met, Jim, the Ph.D. student at Villanova?”
“Mmm-hmm. Clinical psychology, wasn’t it?”
“That’s right. He works nights as a bartender at Scruples.”
Jennifer chuckled. “Ah-hah. And here I thought you were unselfishly devoting every thought to my welfare.”
“I am, I am. Trying to kill two birds with one stone, that’s all.”
“I see. Well, I hate to disappoint you, but I’m bushed. I’m going to take a relaxing bath and go to bed early.”
Marilyn turned and faced her, outraged. “You mean you’d make me go alone? You won’t even come along to offer moral support? Some friend.”
“Marilyn, that’s emotional blackmail.”
Marilyn grinned triumphantly. “Let’s go home and change.”
* * * *
Jennifer’s enthusiasm for the project began to pick up while she was getting ready to go. She had a new dress she’d never worn, a soft silk sheath in a frosty ice blue. She put it on and donned her new shawl.
Marilyn came for Jennifer in her vintage Pinto, and they were on their way back to Philly. This is how I spend my life, Jennifer thought, shuttling back and forth to the City of Brotherly Love.
Scruples was in the middle of the block at Second and South. As they passed under the awning at the entrance, it began to rain. It had been raining on and off for days, stopping just long enough to allow the Freedom to play the game that afternoon, and it looked as though it would be a wet night.
Scruples was jammed. The music blared and the strobe lights flashed, assaulting Jennifer’s ears and eyes and almost prompting an about-face for the door. Marilyn seized her arm and propelled her along to the bar, where her friend was serving drinks. They waited in a crowd three deep to get to him.
Jennifer looked around, trying to spot an empty table. She brushed off several approaches, including one by a character who told her that he was a government agent involved in “very important work.” Jennifer sent him back to Washington.
Marilyn went off on her own, pushing through the mass of humanity. Jennifer craned her neck and saw that Marilyn had reached her quarry by wedging between two people who appeared to be having an argument. Jim looked up and greeted Marilyn with a welcoming smile. Jennifer silently wished them a wedding in June and shoved her way to a table just vacated by a couple who vanished into the crush.
She was no sooner seated than she was joined by a man so drunk she couldn’t believe he was standing on his feet He was tipping his drink, obviously the latest in a long line, to one side, and with every movement it sloshed onto his hand. He didn’t seem to notice.
Jennifer had difficulty understanding what he was saying, not that she wanted to in any case. The music and his intoxication combined to make him almost incomprehensible. She picked up that his name was George, and his intentions became clear when he got her arm in a viselike grip and wouldn’t let go.
Jennifer scanned the crowd desperately. If Marilyn didn’t return soon and rescue her from this creep she was going to scream.
As if in answer to her prayer, Marilyn emerged from the crowd, beaming. Her broad smile vanished when she saw Jennifer’s companion. She took in the situation at a glance, her face a mask of concern, and then froze, staring over Jennifer’s shoulder.
“Lee is here,” she said between her teeth, trying not to let George hear what she was saying.
Jennifer attempted, without success, to disentangle herself from her unwelcome admirer. “What do you mean?” she answered, preoccupied. “Lee can’t be here.”
“Well, if he isn’t, his clone just came through the door.”
Jennifer followed the direction of Marilyn’s gaze and her heart sank. Lee was making his way through the throng, accompanied by Joe Thornridge and Carl Danbury and two other players. The boys were in high good humor, out for a night on the town.
The two women stared at one another, mutually horrified.
“Let’s get out of here,” Jennifer hissed.
She got no argument from Marilyn, who added, “We’ll slip past him; with so many people here, he’ll never see you.”
This plan might have worked, except for the intervention of George, who divined their intentions and started creating a ruckus, still hanging onto Jennifer for dear life.
Jennifer mentally summoned a bouncer, who of course didn’t come. She concentrated on trying to shut George up and get away from him at the same time. He was amazingly strong for somebody who was almost unconscious.
“Whassa matter?” Romeo said querulously, breathing Scotch fumes in her face. “Whereya goin’?” He never relaxed his hold on her.
“Marilyn, get somebody,” Jennifer pleaded.
Marilyn, torn between leaving Jennifer with George and summoning help, stood uncertainly, unable to act George crashed into a chair and overturned it, dragging Jennifer in his wake. They were attracting attention, which was the last thing Jennifer wanted. Jennifer made a last superhuman effort to break free, and succeeded only in upsetting two glasses sitting on the table. They hit the floor with a splintering of glass. She closed her eyes, and opened them to see Lee.
He was wearing a fitted body shirt in very pale lavender, almost cream, and tight black jeans. He wore a glittering gold ornament which showed at his throat, at the opening of his shirt. He looked drawn, thinner, as if he hadn’t been eating or sleeping well, but it became him, as everything seemed to, making his strong cheekbones and the planes of his face more prominent.
Marilyn saw him at the same time and turned a stricken face to Jennifer.
“Hi, Jen,” Lee said in a dangerously calm voice. “This guy bothering you?”
“No, no,” Jennifer lied rapidly, as if George weren’t fixed to her arm at that very moment, like an appendage. “Actually, we were just leaving and…”
At this point, the drunk stuck his jaw out pugnaciously to interrupt. “Who’re you,” he asked blearily. “Her father?”
“I don’t think the lady wants your company, friend,” Lee said. “You’d better let go of her.”
Oh, God. Lee’s face was acquiring the same expression she’d seen at the Heart Fund picnic, and that was not good news.
“It really doesn’t matter,” Jennifer babbled, trying to get between the two men. Lee stretched out one long arm and detached her from amorous George, then swept her aside like a baccarat dealer clearing the table.
“Says who?” sneered Romeo, who had obviously seen too many John Wayne movies, and was also plastered enough to disregard Lee’s superior size and physical condition. He lunged wildly for Lee, who countered with a well-placed uppercut, and the fight began.
The rest of the patrons cleared a space for them, cheering them on. Several of the more enthusiastic onlookers jumped on chairs, chanting, “Fight, fight, fight” Jennifer fervently wished she could flip open a communicator and tell Spock to beam her up to the Enterprise. How wonderful to be able to vanish in a cloud of crystalline particles.
Marilyn’s friend Jim, who appeared to be a bit slow on the uptake, slipped away from the group, and she knew he was phoning the police.
Lee, meanwhile, was having a great time. He was too much of a sportsman to take advantage of his opponent’s debilitated condition, but his Marquees of Queensberry conscience did not prevent him from dancing around and jabbing at George, who swung erratically in all directions, never even coming close to his target Jennifer saw Joe and Carl at ringside, grinning hugely, enjoying the show. She wanted to box their ears.
It wasn’t long before two uniforms pushed their way through the crowd. Joe spotted them and darted forward, trying to pull Lee out of action before they reached the combatants, but to no avail. Lee shrugged his friend off like a pesky fly.
When the cops got closer, Jennifer was unpleasantly surprised to see that one of them was Harry Desautell, whom she knew from her days in private practice. She stepped behind Marilyn, trying to hide.
The police separated the two men and asked for an account of what had happened. Joe acted as spokesman, and when Jennifer’s name came up, Harry looked around for her, finally spotting her peering around Marilyn like a kid playing hide and seek.
“Ms. Gardiner,” Harry said in surprise. “What are you doing here? You know these two gladiators?”
Jennifer mumbled some inane reply, mortified.
Harry raised his eyebrows and pulled a note pad from his pocket. “Let me see here. We have disturbing the peace, inciting to riot, public drunkenness…”
“I’m not drunk,” Lee announced from the sidelines. Harry and Jennifer turned in unison and stared at him. He shrugged and dropped his eyes.
Harry paused to squint at Lee for a moment, and then he snapped his fingers.
“Wait a minute! Aren’t you that football player?”
Lee flashed his most dazzling grin and extended his hand like a candidate running for office. “That’s right, officer. Lee Youngson, Philadelphia Freedom. How do you do?”
Harry shook the proffered hand, looking awed. “Oh, well, Mr. Youngson, I’d like to hear your version of what happened here.”
Lee poured on his legendary charm, and by the time he was finished Officer Harry Desautell was eating out of his hand. The rookie with him was equally impressed, and Jennifer looked away, disgusted.
Harry agreed to let both men off with a warning, and the two cops got Lee’s autograph before they left, escorting a partially sobered George to the door.
Lee turned to Jennifer as the crowd drifted off and things got back to normal.
“It must be nice to get away with everything because you can catch a football,” Jennifer snarled.
Lee glared at her, offended. “I was trying to help you!” He held his right hand up before his face and flexed the fingers. “I think my hand is broken,” he mourned, winking at Marilyn.
“I think your head is broken,” Jennifer snapped.
Marilyn was watching this interchange with interest “Aren’t you going to introduce me?” she prompted Jennifer.
Jennifer waved her hand. “Marilyn, this is Lee Youngson. Lee, my friend, Marilyn Bennett.”
Lee smiled charmingly. “It’s a pleasure, ma’am,” he drawled, doing his Montana cowboy routine. Jennifer threw him a dirty look.
Marilyn coughed. “Uh, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go talk to Jim.” She took off, tossing Jennifer a final meaningful glance as she departed.
Joe and Carl, who had remained waiting during this interval, made their presence known. “Hey, Chief, what’s the holdup?” Carl whined. Joe, who had a suspicion he knew what the holdup was, kept silent, eyeing Lee and Jennifer as they conversed in low, intent voices.
“Just a minute, Carl,” Lee answered, never taking his eyes from Jennifer’s face. He closed the fingers of one hand around her neck, rubbing her nape with his thumb, sending a shiver down Jennifer’s spine. “Let’s go,” he said. I’ll take you home.”
Warning bells went off in Jennifer’s head “No, thank you.”
Lee sighed. “Oh, come off it, Jen, what are you going to do, hang around here and wait to be accosted by George Number Two? Or spend a cozy little evening with your girl friend? I don’t think she’ll be leaving with you, honey; she’s found more interesting company.” He slid his hand down to her shoulder and turned her to face him directly. “Aren’t you as lonely as I am? Isn’t that what we’re both doing here?”
Jennifer never had been able to lie to him. “I’ll tell Marilyn,” she said simply.
She saw Lee heading for Joe and Carl as she left.
Marilyn was not surprised. “I figured as much,” she said. She put a hand on Jennifer’s arm.
“Jen, are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
Jennifer looked bleak. “No, Marilyn. I’m sure I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“I want to go with him.”
“So do I,” Marilyn said, and Jennifer laughed Marilyn always could make her see the light side of things.
“Good luck with Jim,” Jennifer said.
“Thanks. Let me know what happens.”
Jennifer nodded and made her way back to Lee.
* * * *
It was pouring when they got outside.
“Still raining,” Jennifer complained. “I haven’t seen the sun for five days.”
“Maybe they moved it,” Lee responded, signaling for an attendant to get his car.
“It’s not funny. This weather is depressing.”
Lee scanned the drenched and dripping trees lining the street “Just think how happy you’ll be when it clears up. ‘For truly the light is sweet, and what a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to see the sun.’”
Jennifer smiled up at him. “Yes, indeed.”
He grinned back. “I hope you’re impressed. My mind is a storehouse of such useless information.”
“I wouldn’t call that useless. Anything as beautiful as that could never be useless.”
He was touched, and made light of it in response. “I know a lot of sun quotes, practically everything written about it The sun is my totem. My father named me for his sun vision, Nitsokan, the sacred sign that makes a boy a man.” He touched the gold disk at the base of his throat. “This is the Pikuni ideogram for the sun. Dawn gave it to me.”
Jennifer glanced away from it Always Dawn.
The attendant pulled up with Lee’s car, and they got into it without further conversation.
* * * *
Lee concentrated on driving through the downpour on the way to Jennifer’s apartment and didn’t speak until he pulled into Mrs. Mason’s driveway.
“I’d like to come up for a while,” he said quietly.
“Lee, you know that’s a bad idea.”
“No, I don’t,” he answered, turning to hold her as she reached for the handle of the door on her side.
Jennifer froze at the contact, every nerve in her body alerted.
“You see?” Lee said, at the evidence of her instant response. “It will always be like this for us.”
Jennifer put her hand over her eyes. “I’ve known that all along, Lee, but nothing else has changed, either.”
He edged closer to her, nuzzling her neck. “Please,” he whispered.
How could she resist that? She relented. “All right.”
They climbed the stairs in thoughtful silence, oblivious of the steadily falling rain. As soon as the door closed behind them, Lee pulled Jennifer into his arms. Chilled and damp, they clung together, famished for each other’s touch.
“I don’t know what I’m doing here,” Lee said against her hair. “I meant not to come here again. I’ve never felt like this before; I simply can’t stay away from you. Do you know how many times I’ve almost called you since the last time we were together? And then tonight when I saw you, it was all over. I had to be with you. I could no more walk away than I could fly.”
Jennifer embraced him, hardly listening to the words. The warmth and the tone of his voice made the message clear.
Lee held her away from him a moment, gazing down at her. “There’s a lake in Montana called Upper Saint Mary,” he said. “In the spring, when the thaw from the mountains runs into it, the water turns the exact color of your eyes.”
Jennifer swallowed hard. If he made another comment like that, she was going to dissolve in a puddle at his feet.
“Well, paleface,” he said, searching her face, “it’s your move.”
Jennifer took his hand and led him down the hall to the bedroom. He followed slowly, pausing in the doorway when she snapped on the tight.
“This looks like you,” he said, scanning the room. “Beautiful, but practical.”
“That’s right,” Jennifer said. “You didn’t see this last time, did you? We never made it this far.”
“I think we were in a bit of a hurry,” he said, slipping the shawl off her shoulders, bending to kiss the bare skin thus exposed. He murmured something in his native language.
“Thank you,” Jennifer said.
He chuckled. “You didn’t understand what I said.”
“I didn’t have to.”
He crushed her to him fiercely, seeking her mouth with his. Jennifer responded eagerly, on fire to fulfill his every desire. She reached back to the wall and shut off the light.
He took off her clothes, and his own, and they fell on the bed together, impatient, hungry.
Jennifer couldn’t believe how much she’d missed being close to him. How was she going to bear it when this ended, as she feared it would. But Lee didn’t leave her much time for thought, kissing and caressing her with steadily mounting ardor. Soon she was moving urgently against him, tracing his spine with her fingers, running her palms over the flat, hard muscles of his back. When he lowered his mouth to her breasts, she put her face against his hair, soft and smelling of herbal shampoo. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms more tightly about him, waiting for the bliss of total union.
When it came, she arched against him, and he drew back to gaze at her from eyes dark and brilliant with feeling.
“Look at that face,” he murmured. “Such a sweet face. I’ll never, never forget it.”
He kissed her gently on the lips, and then they gave themselves up to a world of sensation.
* * * *
Afterward, they lay together quietly, Jennifer’s head on Lee’s shoulder. Jennifer thought he had fallen asleep, but after some minutes he got up and left her. She heard him zipping his jeans in the darkness, and the almost imperceptible sound of his footsteps going into the living room.
Jennifer waited for his return, and then realized that he wasn’t coming back to the bedroom. She slipped on a robe and followed him out.
Lee was sitting on the sofa, staring into space and smoking one of the cigarettes John Ashford had left behind on the coffee table.
Jennifer halted in her tracks, astonished. “You don’t smoke,” she said.
Lee inhaled deeply until the tip of the cigarette glowed, and then exhaled through his nose. “I used to. I quit a long time ago when I discovered it was difficult to run when I couldn’t breathe.” He glanced at her, then away. “The craving returns when I’m upset or nervous.” He smiled dryly. “For some strange reason, I seem to be very nervous tonight.”
Jennifer bit her lip. Wonderful. Now she was driving him to revert to old, bad habits.
He saw her expression. “Oh, Jen, don’t look like that,” he said, stubbing out the butt and coming to take her hands, leading her to sit beside him “I didn’t mean to imply that you’re responsible. You are fine, beautiful, perfect The problem is not with you, it is with me.”
“What is the problem?” Jennifer asked calmly, as if she didn’t know.
“Jen, you and I, we…have nothing in common, we don’t belong together.”
Jennifer nodded slowly. “I see. Then what are you doing with me? Did I seduce you? I don’t recall it, I don’t make it a practice to ravish big, strong football players.”
He didn’t respond, not meeting her eyes.
Jennifer’s anger was a defense against her pain. “I have a question for you,” she said. “If you feel this way, why do you torment me by coming back?”
“You know the answer to that.”
“Ah, yes, poor Nitsokan, torn between two worlds, unable to help himself, hung up on a woman who’s wrong for him. Do you know that you’re a hypocrite, Lee? You harbor the same prejudices against me that you once thought I had against Indians. What makes you so sure you’re right about this? Have I ever asked you to do anything contrary to your background or your beliefs?”
He dropped his eyes. “Not yet,” he said softly. “But one day.”
Jennifer folded her trembling hands together, trying for control. “If you honestly believe that, after what we just shared in that bedroom, then I think you’d better leave.”
Lee stood abruptly, thrusting his hands through his hair. “You don’t understand.”
“You’re right,” Jennifer said flatly. “I don’t understand. The last time, when you left, I convinced myself that you were right. I knew what you were thinking, and I believed it, too. But now there’s tonight between us, and it’s becoming clearer every minute that the bottom line is either you have faith in me, or you don’t. And you obviously don’t.”
Lee turned on her, his eyes blazing the way they had when he’d spoken of his sister. “You have no idea what you’re talking about!” he said bitterly. He jabbed his thumb at his bare chest. “Look at me. Do you think because I went to college, talk like an accountant, wear these clothes, that I am like you? What did you expect, war paint and sign language? What you see is a survival suit, protective coloration. Don’t be fooled by it Underneath I am as red as Montana clay.”
