Eagle, Kathleen (30 page)

"Not
from you, Reese—from that law and from what happened with Carter and from... uncertainty.
Yes, I
was
unsure."

"You
were sure of who his father was."

"Yes."

"You
knew I was his father."

"Yes."

He
took her face in his hands. "I am your son's father."

"Yes,
you are."

"Look
at me," he demanded, and she opened her eyes, thinking she hadn't meant to
close them. "I am
our
son's father."

"Ye—"

"Say
it."

"You
are Sidney's father. He's your son."

He
swallowed, once, twice, the muscles in his jaw flexing as he closed his eyes,
and she felt a jab of fear, the fleeting notion that he might be struggling
with some terrible anger. But he drew her face to his and touched his lips to
one damp eyelid, then the other, before looking at her again.

"He's
our
son," she said fervently.

He
nodded. "You didn't say it before. You just looked at me like I was your
worst enemy." He raised his eyebrows, tilted his head to one side. "I
missed that, the you-have-a-son part."

"I'm
sorry." She touched two trembling fingers to his lips. "He's our son,
and I love him more than anything, more than my life, and I don't want to lose
him."

"I'm
not going to take him from you," he said. She drew a sharp breath, and he
squeezed her shoulders as though he was taking pity on her and pinning her
spineless body to the chair. "I'm not going to take him from you. I just
want to be—"

"I
didn't know what you would do. You had a right to know, and I've always known
that, but at the same time..." She shook her head. "We never talked
about marriage or family. It was a beautiful, fragile, fleeting time we had
together. You were off to become... Reese Blue Sky."

"And
you had no idea what that was going to be."

"Oh,
but I did. I didn't know much about basketball, but I had a pretty good idea
that you were the best thing to come out of South Dakota since Crazy
Horse."

A
smile warmed his eyes. "He'da made a good point guard, according to my
father."

"You
were a great point guard."

"I
was pretty damn good. I really was." He slid his hands down her arms until
they reached her hands, resting in her lap. "You know, Helen, when I found
out that you'd quit your job all of a sudden, that you'd left Bad River, it
occurred to me that maybe you were pregnant."

"It
did?"

"I
was young and foolish, but I wasn't completely stupid. We got pretty wild
sometimes, and we didn't exactly take all the right precautions." He was
opening her hands, plucking a soggy tissue from each one. "And there were
a couple of times right after I left when I called you, and we talked a little,
and I knew something was different. Then you were gone, and I told myself, Well,
so much for that. She's got better things to do."

"But
you thought about the possibility of a child?"

"Yeah,
I thought about it. But I wasn't gonna ask. I mean..." He'd tossed the
tissues on the mock battlefield, taken each of her hands in his. "My first
season was tough, you know, I was so green. If things hadn't started clicking
for me by spring, it might have been my only season." His eyes sought
hers. "I missed you."

"I
missed you, too. I did watch you on TV."

He
nodded. "I missed you, but I didn't want a kid then. I mean, when I
thought about it, what I thought was..." He was looking down at their
clasped hands, guarding what his eyes would surely have given away. Then he
looked up, directly overhead. " 'God, I hope she's not pregnant.' "

Her
throat burned again. "One of the reasons I didn't tell you..." More
tears coming. More truth. She moved his hands from her lap to her belly.
"I was going to get an abortion."

"You
were?"

Tears
streamed down her cheeks as she arranged his big hands over the small place
where she'd carried the child they'd made, small and flat as it had been then,
and she remembered how unlikely a child had seemed at first,

"I
made arrangements with a clinic. And then I missed the first appointment. I
missed the second one, too." Helen caressed the backs of the beautiful
hands covering her middle, one at her waist, the other spanning her pelvic
bones. "I felt him move. I was too far along."

Reese
adjusted his hands, as though searching for the movement. "You're so
small," he whispered.

"You
should see how big I can get." Before he could wish he had, she said,
"You might have thought I had stolen your basketball."

He
touched his forehead to hers, laughing, and she joined in through her tears. He
kissed her, and he told her, "I would have driven you crazy trying to play
with it." They laughed until he kissed her again. She held his face
between her breasts, and he told her she had a lovely heartbeat. "I hope
you passed that on," he said. He put his arms around her hips and laid his
head in her lap, ear to her belly, nose between her thighs. "I hope to God
you did."

"I
do, too. I like to think he took something from me. On the outside he's all
yours."

"What
does he think of that?"

"He
thinks he looks like himself."

Reese
chuckled. She stroked his cool, damp hair, leaned over him, and apologized. For
what, he wanted to know, and she couldn't begin to tell him. She had made one
choice and then another, an illusion of control. They had made sense at the
time, her choices—not emotional sense, but practical sense—reasonable choices
for a woman who didn't really believe in long shots. And the reasonable choice
for the plans she'd made was not to have a baby.

"But
now I don't even like to think about it, because I can't imagine not having
him, and I came so close."

"No,
you didn't. You only think you did." He turned his head in her lap,
glanced up at her, smiled at her stomach. "The way I see it, if he wasn't
going to be born, he wouldn't have been."

"If
I'd had an abortion, he wouldn't have been born."

"But
you didn't, and 'close' doesn't count." He lifted his head. "My
sister, Rose, had an abortion. For, um, for health reasons, I guess."

"It's
a hard choice to be faced with. A personal choice, different for every woman.
For me..." Helen smiled wistfully. He was caressing her belly again.
"My head told me that it was the sensible thing to do in my circumstances.
But something else spoke to my heart, and in the end, Sidney was born. So that
time, for us, for Sidney and me, that was the way it was supposed to be."

"Roy
Blue Sky himself couldn't have said it better. Did he know?"

"I
didn't tell him. I wish Sidney had known him. Oh, they would have been..."

He
came up from her lap, putting his face close to hers. "Didn't you ever
want him to know me, Helen?"

"Oh,
yes. I always have. I do now." She touched his face, his hair, wishing she
could erase all the regrets. "But he wants to go back to Colorado—he says
the sooner the better."

"Without..."

"He's
scared, too."

"Jesus,
when did I grow horns?" The question had Reese scowling. She rubbed her
thumb over his lower lip, then her fingertips over his forehead, pressing the
scowl away. "All right, if he doesn't want to see me right away, fine.
I'll wait. A day or two."

"If
you want to see him, I think the sooner the better. Lay your fears to rest,
along with his."

"That
just leaves yours."

Helen
nodded toward the cabinet. "You still haven't told me what kind of pill
that was."

"I
take beta blockers. They help with the heart thing."

"I
want to know more than that."

"Like
what?" He reached for the other chair and deftly slid it under his butt as
he pushed off the floor, muttering, "My foot's going to sleep here."

"Circulation?"

"You
wanna trade places? Put your head in my lap?" He maneuvered the chair so
that he faced her, his long thighs bracketing her legs. "I'll tell you
whatever you wanna know."

"I
want to know everything," she said. "I want to know what kind of
precautions you're supposed to be taking, like with running. You shouldn't be
doing that alone out here. Should you? I mean..." He was grinning.
"Well, it wouldn't be fair to Sidney for you to drop dead now."

"That's
right, e'en it? I'll be sure and hold off for a while."

"A
very
long
while," she demanded, pounding his thigh with her fist.
"Which means you shouldn't go running alone."

"If
it's gonna happen, it's not gonna matter whether I'm alone or I've got a crowd
around me. I could rent a room at the Mayo Clinic and still drop dead on the
john. I wanna be fair to Sidney and all, but some things I can't control. And
neither can you."

"This
is something I have to know about. Sidney's never had any problem that I know
of, but he could, couldn't he?"

"He
could. There's some DNA testing we need to have done. One good thing about
money, it buys you the best doctors." He put his hand over hers when she
glanced away. "Hey, chances are he's fine."

"I
didn't mean to be so flip. Sidney's not the only one I'm worried about."

"Well,
it's good for you to worry. You worry yourself into some hypertension, and then
we can share pills."

"Oh,
super." She turned her palm to his. "He doesn't know what to think,
Reese. And I've gone back and forth. What if you rejected him? What if you
wanted him? What if, what if. Either way, wasn't it better for him..." She
held on tight. "And I know you could still take him."

"You're
right. I could." He shrugged. "And I could drop dead tomorrow."

"So."
She laid her hand on his smooth cheek. She blessed today, and she blessed his
impish smile. "Nothing I can do, huh?"

"I
think the expression is..." He planted a kiss in the hollow of her palm.
"Live with it."

"Live
with it." She nodded. "Do you want to see him now?"

"Damn
right, if he's willing. Where is he?"

"He's
with Carter."

"Good
ol' Carter. What was he trying to achieve? Some kind of Geraldo reunion?"

"Sidney
called me at the casino, and I wasn't there, and they got to talking, and I
suppose this was Carter's favor to me. He certainly couldn't have
known..."

"Told
you I'm not supposed to run without a partner, didn't he?" Reese leaned in
close, both hands on her thighs. "My doctor says there's something else I
should never do on my own."

"Have
sex?"

He
laughed. "Damn, you're getting the hang of that Indian humor."

Sidney
ignored the message on the
small screen. The machine wanted more
quarters, but he was getting tired of hacking up goblins and orcs. Pair-a-Dice
City's video games were really old stuff. He'd been the same age as Derek
Marshall the last time he played Dungeons and Dragons.

"Aw,
maaan. They killed me off again." Derek pounded the sides of the
"X-Men" machine. He stuck his hand out. "Quick, gimme two
more."

Sidney
shoved his hand in his pocket and came up with four coins, which he dropped
into the kid's palm. The money had come from Derek's father, so as far as
Sidney was concerned, the kid could have it all. But Derek returned two of the
quarters and went back to his game.

This
wasn't the first time Sidney had played video games in a casino, but it had
been a while. He'd pretty much given up the machines lately, preferring more
live action. He loved to run and climb and explore. And he loved to play ball.
But what he didn't love was babysitting, which was exactly what he was stuck
doing. His brand-new uncle—first one he'd ever had except for Aunt Linda's
husband, whom he called John, not Uncle—had told him he'd be "getting to
know your cousin," but what it amounted to was being put in charge of two
rolls of quarters.

Uncle
Carter. Man, this was weird. Cousins, uncles, fathers, these were all alien
beings. Sidney had no experience with such creatures and hadn't come to South
Dakota looking for any. He'd come to see his mom, who was generally pretty
cool. He could have stayed at camp during the break between sessions—some of
the guys were—but he'd gotten to thinking about his mom a lot, and he was
really starting to miss her. He liked the idea of bopping in and surprising
her.

He
didn't know what to think about all these new relatives, so he decided not to
think anything. Goblins and orcs. He figured he'd hang loose until he could get
on that plane, and then he'd be outta here. His mom would get her investigation
wrapped up in a few more weeks, and they'd be back to normal.

Arms
braced on the machine, Sidney took a couple of steps back and dropped his chin
to his chest, "Aren't you sick of this yet?"

"Are
you? What do you wanna do?"

The
kid was ready to be his tail. Of course, he was only nine. Sidney glanced
around the game room. The attendant, an Indian woman, was reading a paperback
book. Two skinny girls and one fat one were just leaving the place, going to
get something to drink, they said. Sidney was past the
getting
stage of
bored.

"What
else is there?"

"My
dad says there's gonna be a pool next year if they add onto the hotel.
Olympic-size, maybe. I'm taking swimming lessons now."

"I
don't need any more lessons. Where'd your mom go? When she takes you home, I
wanna go back."

"Back
where? To my house? You can come to my house."

The
kid was talking to his back, following close behind him. As long as he could
hear his voice, Sidney was doing his job. Outside the game room there were
benches, bathrooms, and signs with arrows pointing in three different
directions. Sidney didn't like any of the choices.

"I
got a basketball court at home," Derek was saying.

"I
wanna go back to where my mom's staying so I can sleep."

"Sleep?
What do you wanna sleep for?"

Kids
never liked to sleep during the day. Sidney remembered what that was like,
before you find out how cool it is to stay up at night. Getting up early was
the only bad part about camp. Staying up after lights-out could be great if
three or four guys were in on it together, even if it was just to play Zombie
or tell stories. It was cool that everybody at camp was about the same age. No
nine-year-olds who didn't get it. Sidney was the youngest guy there, but not
too many others realized that he was only twelve. He was way bigger than a lot
of thirteen- and fourteen-year-olds.

And
now he knew why. His mom had told him his father—his
dead
father—was a
big man. But not
that
big.

"If
we go to my house we can play basketball." Derek, standing at his elbow,
was rattling on. "My dad says you're going to a camp for Indian kids where
they play basketball and stuff. He says you'll probably be as good as my uncle
Reese someday. Is he really your dad?"

"So
they say." Sidney shoved his hands in his pockets, just casual. But he was
thinking, That's cool, Carter saying a thing like that about me.

Four
curly-haired old ladies strolled past with their plastic change buckets. One of
them looked at Sidney like his fly was open or something. When he caught
himself checking, he decided he was getting out of this place, starting with
the stupid hallway.

"You
want some pop or something?" he asked.

"It's
free here. But we can't go in the part where slot machines and stuff are. Kids
can't go in there. But we can go—" They'd reached the archway that
separated the gamblers from the regular people. Derek grabbed the back of
Sidney's shirt. "Hey, we can't go in there. Adults only."

With
a lofty glance, Sidney let the kid know that he'd overstepped. They weren't
going through; they were going around. They had started out in Carter's office,
and Sidney figured he could find his way back without consulting a
nine-year-old. He was permitting the kid to follow. He remembered having seen
the gift store with the leather jackets in the window, so he knew they were on
the right track.

"Kids
aren't allowed where there's booze and gambling," Derek muttered,
dutifully tagging behind.

"We
can go to your dad's office, can't we? I'm getting tired of hanging out here. I
hate these places."

"What
places? Casinos, you mean? I don't get to come here very much anymore, but my
dad..."

Sidney
had found the little hallway he was looking for. He turned his knuckles to
knock, but his hand froze when he heard yelling behind the door.

"I
was just trying to help out, for crissake! Will you back off!" It was
Carter's voice.

"You
didn't need to get your nose into it," Sarah said. "You've always got
to be throwing money around and being the big Mr. Take Over. Even if you didn't
know whose kid he was, looks like you would have asked her first, before you
went off and suggested this whole thing to the boy. If she wanted her son here,
she would have—"

"She
didn't have the money."

"And
you do? You know, you've got your own kids and your own..."

The
rest of her words were lost on Sidney.

"Jeez."
His hand fell to his side. "Is she mad about me?"

"She's
mad about bills."

Sidney
turned his back on the door marked "General Manager." Derek was
pasted to the wall, as far from the door as he could get, staring at the floor.
"She's always mad about bills," the kid said. "She says my dad
owes too much money."

"It's
a bitch to owe a lot of money," Sidney said. Derek looked smaller now than
he had in the video-game room. Too small to be much of a pest. "I'm never
going to have any credit cards. They're too much trouble."

"My
uncle Reese is rich. So you're lucky."

"Why?"

"Well,
if he's your dad, that means you're rich. That car he's driving, that's not his
real car."

"It
looks like an okay car."

"He's
got way better cars. He's got all kinds of stuff, I bet. I've never been to his
house in Minneapolis, have you?"

"No."
Sidney shrugged. He didn't know anything about a house in Minneapolis. "I
thought he was dead."

"Oh,
no, he ain't dead. He just can't play in the pros anymore." The little
boy's eyes widened at the sound of more threats shouted behind the closed door.
"She's gonna kick him out again."

"Does
he gamble or what?"

"Gamble?"

"Never
mind. Money's the root of all evil. Have you ever heard that?"

"No,
but my dad's not evil. He doesn't drink hardly ever, for one thing, and he's
gonna get us a different boat pretty soon. We've got one, but it's small if you
wanna take friends, like if we go up to Lake Oahe." More shouts behind the
door quashed Derek's enthusiasm. "I hate it when she kicks him out,"
he whispered. "We hardly get to see him then."

Sidney
jerked his head toward the door. "You don't wanna listen to
that,
do
you?"

"Better
than never seeing him."

"Come
on." For the first time since they'd met, Sidney laid a friendly hand on
the kid's little shoulder. "We'll find something else to do."

But
the end of the hallway was blocked by a big, bald-headed guy, standing there
like a cork in a bottle. "What are you boys doing back here? Are you with
your parents?"

"My
dad's the general manager," Derek quietly informed the man, whose sweet
smell—some kind of shaving lotion—made Sidney feel claustrophobic. That and the
way he blocked the light, standing there at the end of the hallway.

"You're
Carter's boy? Who's this, your brother?"

"He's
my cousin. His dad's my uncle Reese."

"You're
Reese Blue Sky's kid? Hey, I'm Bill Darnell." The man stuck his hand out.
"I met your dad just recently."

"Yeah,
me, too."

"Really."
Darnell chuckled, folded his arms, and just stood there like a teacher on hall
duty. "Well, when I met your dad, he was with a pretty, uh... Come to
think of it, she's one of our dealers. Guess she must not be your—"

"That's
my mom."

"Really."

If
he'd been a little younger, a little less cool, Sidney would have taken off and
squeezed past this guy. He was looking at Sidney like people too often did,
trying to figure out where he belonged and with whom. But Sidney had just told
him. For the first time in his life, he had two living, breathing reference
points. The guy knew who his mother was, knew who his father was. So there it
was, the explanation. He didn't look much like his mother, no, but he did look
like his father. A little bit.

"You
guys hungry?" Darnell asked.

The
boys shook their heads in unison, as though they'd been hangin' together long
enough to be thinking alike.

"You
try out the video games?" The man fished a handful of change out of his
pocket. "Here, I've got a bunch of quarters for you, and I'll tell your
father—" He looked up. "Or your
fathers
—are they both here?
I'll let them know we've got two guys out here who are getting a little
restless, huh?"

Sidney
shrugged. He didn't feel like explaining anymore.

"You
hang tough now, and I'll—" Darnell nodded toward the closed office door.
"I'll take care of it."

Sidney's
mom came to pick him up when he and Derek were about to hit the
make-your-own-ice-cream-sundae bar for the third time. The offer of food hadn't
sounded too appealing coming from Bill Darnell, but it was okay when Carter
suggested it, especially when he and Sarah agreed to sit down with them. That
made Derek happy, and Sidney was feeling pretty sorry for the kid by then. He
decided maybe he was lucky he had to live with only one parent, if having two
meant that you had to listen to them yelling at each other all the time.

It
seemed like a long way from the casino to the little town of Bad River, but his
mother said it was only about five miles. It probably seemed like more because
there was so much nothing in between. He'd been to a few Indian reservations
before, but this one looked more desolate, scenery-wise. The Black Hills, the
part of South Dakota he'd seen coming in on the plane, they looked nice. He mentioned
that later, when he was helping her carry some groceries into the kitchen. She
started in on seeing the sights again, and she seemed a whole lot more chipper
than she had been when she'd left him at the casino. He didn't think the
prospect of seeing Mount Rushmore had a lot to do with it.

"I'm
not interested in seeing a bunch of rock heads, Mom. I spent today baby-sitting
some kid who's supposed to be my cousin, and it felt weird. I mean, with his
parents, I felt like I was in the way. It's all too weird." He set the
bags on the kitchen counter next to the refrigerator. "I'll probably just
sleep tomorrow."

"On
my day off?"

Today
was her day off, too, and he'd spent half of it with people he didn't know, so
what was that about? He opened the refrigerator door so she could put the milk
in.

"Why
don't you go back to work and get this investigation over with so you can come
back home?"

"I'll
be finishing that up soon. I just thought maybe the three of us could take in
some of the sights tomorrow."

"The
three of us? I only see two." But he knew exactly what she was getting at.
"I don't want you asking him, Mom. And I don't want..."

He
felt a little bad about the funny look on her face, like she had strawberry
shortcake in the refrigerator and he'd turned it down. "You know it'll
just be a big mess, even if he
wants
me to be his kid, which he probably
doesn't. So can we just forget it?" He shrugged. "It's embarrassing,
is what it is."