Close Proximity (16 page)

Blake sighed. “They were great. They're getting up there in years, and I was afraid that, after all Meredith has been through, that the kids might get on her nerves. But she seems happy to have them there. She and Joe seem to be on a constant honeymoon these days.”

The Colton scandal had been all the residents of Prosperino and the surrounding area had talked about for the past year. First, Joe had been wounded at his birthday party. And then it was discovered that Patsy Portman, Mer
edith Colton's identical twin, had caused her sister to have an auto accident, dropped the unconscious woman off at St. James Clinic and had somehow succeeded in slipping into Meredith's life. For years she'd managed to deceive those around her into believing that she was Meredith. Patsy had reveled in the Colton wealth.

However, when Patsy's plan to murder Joe failed, the sick and twisted web she'd worked so hard to weave had begun to unravel. Meredith—the
real
Meredith—was once again safely ensconced at home, Hacienda de Alegria, with her husband, and the two were acting like young lovers once more.

“That's good to hear,” Rafe said. “I'm glad the Colton clan is enjoying a little normalcy.”

Blake chuckled. “It has been a wild ride lately.”

Just then, Holly entered with a tray bearing a carafe, two cups, cream, sugar and a plate of cookies.

“I thought you two might like a little refreshment,” she said.

“Thanks, Holly.” To Rafe, he continued, “Operations around here will be getting back to normal soon too. Meanwhile my staff has been a big help.”

Blake reached for the carafe and didn't see his secretary's eyes glitter at the compliment.

Rafe got the impression that if Blake asked, Holly would walk barefoot over hot coals. Holly's eyes darted to Rafe's face, then she dipped her chin self-consciously.

“I'll leave you two to talk,” she murmured, and then left them, dignity lengthening her spine.

Before Holly had arrived with the tray, Rafe had been about to reveal to his friend his thoughts regarding Todd Lamb and the DMBE dumping. However, he felt unable to do so. Holly had left the door open and he had no idea who might come or go in the reception area. And he sure
didn't think it would be wise to disclose his suspicions about Todd Lamb's involvement when the man's daughter might overhear.

He picked up his cup, took a sip from it and then cradled it between his hands. Changing the subject entirely was the best idea for now.

“So tell me what's happening with the kids,” he said.

Blake's gray gaze lit up at the mention of the children.

About twenty minutes later his coffee cup was empty, and Rafe leaned over and set it on the tray. “I'd better get back to work. I'm due to meet Libby soon.”

His friend's expression went solemn. “How's the investigation going?”

“Well, the opposing attorneys think they have solid evidence. But I'm confident that Libby will shoot it full of holes.”

The men made their goodbyes, and Rafe tossed a friendly wave at Holly on his way out the door. As he descended the porch steps, the sound of tires crunching on gravel drew his gaze.

The man cut the engine of his car and stepped out onto the drive.

“Rafe! What a surprise.”

Friendly delight sparked in Joe Colton's blue eyes. His smile dazzled. His handshake was strong, despite the fact that he was over sixty years old. He had an arresting aura that commanded respect.

Rafe held the man in high esteem. When Blake and Rafe had gotten themselves arrested, Joe could have taken the police officer's advice and kept the boys apart. But Joe hadn't done that. In fact, Joe had invited Rafe to his home. It was an invitation Rafe hadn't actually accepted. But the fact that it had been extended meant the world to Rafe.

“Good to see you, Joe. How are you? How's Meredith?”

The joy shining the man's gaze was unmistakable.

“Life has never been better for us. Never been better.” Then he grinned. “I'm bringing good news.”

“Oh?”

For the first time, Rafe noticed the manila envelope in Joe's hand. He waved it gleefully.

“New reports are in. The DMBE levels are continuing to dwindle. We'll have to keep treating the ground water for a while longer, but this is great news for the ranch, for the whole town.”

Rafe's spirits lifted. “Blake will be ecstatic when he hears.”

“That's why I came personally. I want to see his face.” Then Joe said, “Meredith wants to have a party. She plans to invite everyone. Try to boost morale. This crisis has been hard on everyone in Prosperino.”

“You can say that again.”

Seeming to be hit with a realization, Joe paused, his face registering regret. “I'm sorry all this has landed on David Corbett's head. You're helping his daughter, aren't you?”

“I am, yes.” Rafe nodded.

“Well, just know that I'm praying that the real culprit is soon caught.”

Clearly, Joe believed in David's innocence. Joe's opinion meant a lot to Rafe. The gratitude he was feeling must have shown on his face.

“Come on now,” Joe said. “There was no way I could believe David would do such a thing. While VP of Springer, David has done a great deal for this town. He's helped the Mokee-kittuun, too, hasn't he? I read about the well he was digging.”

“Since he was arrested,” Rafe told him, “that project has come to a screeching halt.”

“You're kidding?”

“I'm not.” His voice lowered as he added, “Since Todd Lamb has taken over, lots of things have changed.”

Joe shook his head in disbelief.

“Speaking of Todd Lamb…” Rafe let the sentence trail as he cast a quick glance over his shoulder. “I'd like to ask you to do me a favor.”

“Anything, Rafe. You know that.”

“I'd like you to keep an eye out for Blake.”

Interest sharpened Joe's features, but the man waited in patient silence.

“This has got to be kept in strictest confidence. I'm afraid Holly's father might be involved in this.”

“But Todd is Springer's new VP.”

“Ironic, isn't it?” Rafe gazed off for a second. “Blake doesn't need more trouble right now, but I'm worried about how Holly will react once her father's involvement is uncovered. However, I'd rather you didn't say anything just yet. I don't know how close Holly is to Todd. If the man should get wind that he's a suspect, he might bolt.”

Deep gravity etched itself in Joe's forehead. “I understand. You can trust me, Rafe.”

“Thanks, Joe.”

“And if David needs a character witness, I'm your man. I've known David for many years. And if I thought about it, I could come up with lots of ways he's helped this community.”

Rafe offered the man a smile of appreciation. “Well, you start thinking about it.”

“O
n the way home from the courthouse,” Libby said over dinner, “I stopped to see Susanna.”

“Is she making any progress?” Rafe speared a broccoli floweret.

“She says yes. But, of course, I couldn't tell.” She chewed around her grin in silence and swallowed. “But one thing is certain: that girl loves her job.”

“Any developments at the courthouse today?”

Libby shook her head. “The judge asked when we'd be ready. Opposing counsel is pressing to start jury selection.” She inhaled deeply and stretched her neck muscles. “I need more time.”

“Did you tell the judge that?”

“I did. But the other side has their arguments ready. I'm sure they're going to lean heavily on that computer journal they found. They have their witnesses lined up. They want to get this ball rolling.”

“Well, don't let them push the ball into motion until you know where it's going to roll.”

Softly she assured him, “I won't.”

He told her about Joe Colton's offer to give testimony as a character witness on David's behalf.

“That's wonderful, Rafe. Joe is well respected around here.”

Rafe began cleaning up the dinner dishes. Libby lent a hand.

The keep-away dance they engaged in had become old hat. He carefully remained in his space and she in hers. They avoided touching each other at all costs. If the atmosphere between them wasn't so charged with serious energy, the whole thing would probably be quite funny. But Libby wasn't laughing.

The strain of living in such close proximity, of wanting each other so badly, yet acting as if that attraction was nonexistent had taken its toll. Both of them were feeling the strain. Each and every time they were together the air in the house was heavy. Tense. Vibrating the very molecules they breathed. However, Rafe seemed completely determined to ignore the almost tangible presence of what was between them. And if he could do it, Libby could, too. Deep down inside, though, she wished things were different.

She had something she wanted to ask. But she realized she'd have to ease into her request. As she filled the sink with soapy water, she said, “I stopped someplace else on the way home from court.”

On the way home.
The phrase had flowed from her as if it had been the most natural thing in the world.

“Oh? Where'd you go?” But before she could answer, he said, “I thought we'd agreed that if I wasn't with you,
you would come directly to the ranch. You probably shouldn't even have stopped to see Susanna without me.”

“We did agree. And I'm sorry. But…I just couldn't resist.”

He was bent over, placing the leftover roast beef into the refrigerator. But her hesitation had his back straightening, his gaze pivoting to her face.

“I stopped at the little house on the road into Crooked Arrow,” she told him. “You know the one. There are blankets and baskets and pottery displayed for sale.”

“Margo Redfox's shop. Mokee-kittuun artisans pay her a commission for running the place.”

“She's got some beautiful things there.” Libby nibbled her upper lip. “She told me her grandson will have his naming ceremony this evening.” Before she lost her nerve, she asked, “Do you think we could go?”

He closed the door of the refrigerator, searching her face for several silent seconds. Libby couldn't tell what he was thinking. What if he refused? Worse yet, what if he suggested that their attending the ceremony would be an intrusion?

Finally he said, “The gathering won't be anything like the Spring Equinox celebration. This is going to be small. Very small. Cheyenne told me about it. She can't be there, but Alex will be. Since Margo's grandson is the only child being named, it won't take more than ten or fifteen minutes.”

“But…” Her lips went dry and she moistened them. She hoped he didn't think the eagerness she felt—that fairly quivered in her—was silly. “Do you think it would be okay? If we went, I mean?”

His wide mouth was unsmiling, his gaze unreadable. She wished he'd say something.

“Sure. If you want to go, we'll go.”

A thrill twittered through Libby.

She'd successfully argued with the opposing counsel in front of the judge for more time to prepare for the trial. And she'd discovered today that the computer expert, Susanna, was making progress. These things should have excited her. Yet, Libby was most energized by the opportunity to attend a fifteen-minute ceremony on the reservation. For some odd reason, she didn't feel the least bit ashamed by that.

 

The fire in the middle of the cave floor was smaller than she expected. But this night, the cavernous room was aglow with what looked like a hundred flickering candles. The same cracks in the ceiling that let in light during the day, allowed the fire to vent and stirred a current of cool air. The flames on the end of each wick danced and threw shadows against the walls, against the faces of those attending the gathering.

This ceremony might be small compared to the tribal gathering she'd attended, but Alex Featherstone was decked out in all his shaman finery. His impressive headdress flowed nearly to the floor with white feathers. Turquoise beads hung from narrow rawhide strips near the deep hollows of his cheeks. Time had wrinkled his skin, turned it tough as shoe leather. His black eyes reflected the soft, luminous light no matter what direction he turned his head.

The only people present were the little boy's parents, grandparents and a few friends and family members. Maybe a dozen, all told.

Rafe and Libby had slipped into the room before the ceremony had begun. Margo Redfox had offered them a silent greeting in her gentle smile.

The old shaman called the boy to him. With his spine
rod-straight, the child stepped forward. Alex placed his leathery hands on the boy's shoulders, closed his eyes, lifted his face heavenward.

More beautiful words Libby had never heard uttered. She didn't understand the Algonquian dialect, but she suspected Alex was praying. Every head was bowed, every eye closed. Except for hers. She was too fascinated to miss even an instant of what was happening. She was certain The Great One would understand.

Breathless, she experienced what felt like a strong magnetic tide ebb and flow across every inch of her skin. She felt alive, glowing.

When the reverent appeal was complete, Libby nudged Rafe and he dipped his head so she could whisper in his ear.

“This place really is magical.”

She sensed his smile. However, when she pulled back and gazed into his face, his mahogany eyes held a piercing, inscrutable expression. Her heart tripped in her chest, and she hoped he didn't think she was being irreverent. She simply couldn't help it. It's exactly how she felt. She truly believed this cave was enchanted.

Without responding, Rafe lifted his chin and watched the ceremony. Embarrassment had Libby hugging her arms across her chest. She should have just kept her mouth shut and paid attention to the scene before her.

“Like a bright star in the night sky directs the weary and uncertain traveler—” the shaman's rich voice reverberated against the walls of the cave “—this child will grow to be a leader of men. Wisdom will be his companion. Strength of character will be his brother. He will guide those who do not know the way. One who has such a tremendous responsibility must have a strong and dependable name.”

Pride gleamed in the eyes of the child's parents, and Libby felt her throat swell with emotion when a tear spilled down the mother's cheek.

“From this day forth, this child will be known as Tipaakke Hongiis. Night Star.”

Then the old man began to sing. The lyrics and tune were poignant, like invisible fingers reaching far into the soul to pluck at the strings of one's heart. Libby found it difficult to swallow. Her chin quivered. Tears burned her eyes.

There was silence, then everyone began to file out.

“It's over?”

Rafe nodded. “I told you there wasn't much to it. That the ceremony would be short and sweet.”

How could he say that? she wondered. Wasn't much to it? Yes, the ritual had been short. Ah, but the sweetness of it had been breathtaking.

The old shaman had given that child a purpose in life. Alex had offered that boy hope. A noble goal to reach for and attain. The child's parents had seen that and reacted to it with pure loving emotion.

A chilly breeze blew off the ocean, and even though they were more than a mile from the Pacific, Libby could smell the salty tang as they trudged home.

“Fog is moving in,” Rafe said.

For several minutes, they walked in silence. The sky was overcast. The air cool. Libby turned up the collar of her jacket.

“Rafe?”

“Hmmm?”

“What predictions did the shaman make about you? During your naming ceremony, I mean. Why did he give you the name Dark Wind?”

She heard him inhale, sensed his chest expand. Then he blew out the breath between parted lips.

“I don't remember his actual words,” he began. “I was too young. But many times my mother talked to me about it.”

His whole body seemed to tense.

“Every time something bad happened to us, she would remind me of what Alex said on the night of my naming.”

Although her eyes were narrowed on the dim ground in front of each step she took, her ears—and her heart—were sharply focused on Rafe's story.

“Darkness is like a protective blanket that shields, she'd tell me. And the wind that blows brings change. Alex apparently assured me and my parents that, in the light of day, better things were to come.”

Libby frowned. “It sounds like some sort of cryptic message.” What she couldn't bring herself to say was that the motive behind Rafe's name didn't seem to have the same uplifting message as what the shaman had given tonight.

“Your mother reminded you of Alex's message when things were bad,” she said. “Tell me. In the light of day, did the wind blow in better things?”

“I can't answer that.”

She looked up at him then, but the night obscured his features. A strange sadness seemed to pulsate from him.

“I can't because…” His voice grew hushed. “I'm still waiting for the sun to rise.”

Her heart ached, hating the thought that Rafe felt he was living in the dark. Oh, how she would love to help him enter into the daylight. But if he wouldn't talk to her, wouldn't allow himself to get close to her, she simply didn't know how to help him.

Emotion burned her throat and she found it difficult to talk. But she forced herself to reach out and touch his arm.

“Thanks for taking me tonight. It was wonderful.”

He must have heard the warble in her tone for he placed his arm around her shoulders. Snuggled in his warm embrace, Libby felt the night wind cool the trails of her tears.

“Come on now,” he said softly. “I saw you welling up back there in the cave. It's okay.” He grinned. “All women get emotional at naming ceremonies. They think of the children they've had or the children they're going to have. Before you know it, every female nearby is crying like a forlorn mama wolf.”

So, he thought she was weeping because of the ceremony they had attended. Well, the gathering had stirred her emotions. But she wasn't crying for that little boy who had received a Mokee-kittuun name tonight. And she wasn't crying—as Rafe suggested—over the children she might one day birth. She was crying for Rafe. And for whatever dark wind soughed through his memories.

“I know just what we need.”

His tone took on a false jocularity and she knew he was attempting to lighten her mood.

“How does a mug of mulled wine sound? It'll warm us up and calm you down.”

She chuckled. “Mulled wine sounds delicious.”

Later, they sat in front of the fire, both of them cradling mugs of warm and spicy wine. The fire in the hearth sizzled and popped as flames feasted on wood. Libby felt haloed in a rosy glow. Several different things were responsible for the feeling, she was sure. The wine, for one. Another was due to the wonderment of the ritual she'd witnessed earlier. And the other was Rafe.

Her tears had affected him. Since they had arrived home, he'd been so gentle with her. So protective.

Darkness is like a protective blanket that shields.

Libby remembered commenting that Rafe's Mokee-kittuun name was a little gloomy. But now that she thought about it, maybe Alex's premonition regarding Rafe's future hadn't been so far off the mark. He was a protector.

Her
protector.

“I saw Holly Lamb today,” Rafe said.

“Todd's daughter?”

“Umm-hmm. I went to visit Blake at the ranch. Holly works as his secretary.” A chuckle vibrated deep in his chest. “I got the distinct feeling that something is there.”

He grinned, and warmth curled all the way to Libby's toes.

“A spark,” he continued. “Or something between the two of them. Blake and Holly. But the funny thing is, it's clear that Blake doesn't have a clue.”

“Men can be quite thick when it comes to matters of the heart.”

Their gazes locked. She hadn't meant to get personal; however, apparently she had. Nevertheless, Rafe remained stubbornly silent.

“I was going to warn Blake,” he said. “Regarding our suspicions about Todd Lamb.”

Her eyes widened. “You didn't, though, right? That would be a terrible mistake.”

Dark clouds gathered in Rafe's brown eyes. “Holly's going to need help in dealing with this mess when the truth about her father is revealed.”

“But what if she tells her father? He could leave town. He could leave the country.” She set her mug on the coffee table and stood up. “You didn't say anything, did you?”

“Not to Blake. I didn't get the chance to.” Setting his mug on the end table, he admitted, “But I did tell Joe.”