"I didn't expect to see you," she said breathlessly.

"Because I didn't call?"

"You always called."

"I had a lot to think about."

"I saw the news-about the funeral-"

"I didn't come here to discuss funerals. I've seen and heard enough about death the last few days. I came here to apologize for my behavior last night. I was angry and I took it out on you."

Johnny reached for her. She stepped away, more out of instinct than nervousness, then reminded herself that this was Johnny Whitehorse. She had nothing to fear from him. He reached again, catching her arm and tugging her close. The expensive cloth of his suit brushed her skin as softly as a breath. His cloud of black hair, spilling over his black suit and shirt, made his skin look rich as mahogany and his eyes dark as onyx. The tender yet insistent pressure of his fingers on her arm made her knees go weak, and she sank against him as if every bone and muscle in her body had become water.

"I was prepared to never see you again," she confessed, her head against his shoulder, her eyes drifting closed as he wrapped his long arms around her and gently rubbed her back. "At least I thought I was. Now that you're here I realize that I would probably have gone to you, even if you told me that you never wanted to see me again."

"You were always too stubborn for your own good, Leah." He kissed her temple and breathed in her ear.

"Wanna make love in the feed room?" she grinned.

"The next time we make love, sweetheart, it's going to be in a bed with champagne and caviar-"

"Oh, dear. I don't like caviar."

"Fine. Then champagne and Ritz crackers with Squeeze-It cheese spread."

Laughing, Leah looked up into his intense eyes. "You remembered."

"How can a guy forget something as romantic as Squeeze-It cheese spread, for G.o.d's sake? Except..." He ran his hand under the waistband of her pajama bottoms, over her b.u.t.tock, cupping it firmly with his fingers. "The next time we share Squeeze-It I'm gonna educate you on the finer things you can do with it. You'll never look at a can of that stuff the same way again."

Leah laughed, lifted her arms around his neck, and went to her tiptoes to brush his lips with a kiss. Only he turned his face away slightly and eased her arms down, setting her back on her heels. His expression appeared strained, the lines around his eyes more evidence of the stress and emotional turmoil he had experienced the last few days.

"There's something wrong." She touched his cheek.

"Life sucks." He grinned wearily.

"What's the old saying? Life's a b.i.t.c.h and then you die. But we're together again. How can that be bad?" Stepping away, she studied the slant of his mouth and the odd dullness of his eyes. "Is there something you're not telling me, Johnny?"

"Nothing we need to discuss tonight." He turned away and walked to the barn door. Before him, in the distance, stretched Whitehorse Farm. The distant lights of the house twinkled like golden stars against the black night. "Funny how things change with time," he mused thoughtfully. "Once I stood in this same place and looked out at your house, wishing I could hold you. Now here we are. I'm here and you're here and ... I'm too d.a.m.n afraid to hold you."

Partially turning, he looked back at her, and his eyes were sharp, his lips curled in something less than a smile. "I'm going in the house now to meet your son."

She felt the blood drain from her face, and her mouth went dry. Johnny walked from the barn, leaving Leah standing in the glare of the barn's yellow bug lights, the goats tugging at her pajama legs, her heart pounding in her throat like a jackhammer. The overwhelming urge to run after him, to postpone the inevitable, made tears sting her eyes-not from nervousness, but from shame. She felt sickened by the very thought that she was embarra.s.sed for him to know that her son was less than perfect.

The screen door slammed. Shamika's voice wormed its way through Leah's haze, then Johnny's, deeper, words that distance turned into a drone of indistinct syllables, then silence.

At last, she followed, goats at her heels, her body shaking as she mounted the steps and reached for the door.

Shamika opened it for her and smiled into her eyes. "I'm getting everyone ice cream. Want some?"

The goats darted past Leah, into the house. She watched them trot through the kitchen and down the hallway straight to Val's room. "No." She shook her head.

Shamika walked to the refrigerator, opened the freezer and dug through the frozen dinners and ice trays before extracting the half-gallon tub of Cookies and Cream. She laid out two bowls and proceeded to fill them. "You look like someone just cracked you over the head with a tire rod, Leah. Relax. They're going to hit if off just fine."

"But he doesn't know."

Shamika glanced at her with a smugness that made Leah frown. "Of course he knows, Leah. He's known all along."

Leah slowly blinked and shook her head. "What are you saying? That's impossible. I never-"

"He called here one day last week to speak to you. You were out at the barn or something. We talked."

"You told him?" Her voice quivered.

"Nope." She licked her fingers and replaced the lid on the tub. "Your mother told him. Seems they kept in touch right up until she died." Shamika returned the ice cream to the freezer, picked up a bowl and extended it to Leah. "He knew everything, Leah. About your marriage, the birth of your son, your divorce. He also understands your fear."

"He never said..."

"He wanted you to tell him."

Her hands shook as she took the bowl and moved to Val's room, pausing at the door to watch Johnny sit in the rocking chair next to the window, her son in his lap. Val's face beamed with pleasure, and it occurred to Leah in that instant that the precious child whose face was rosy with excitement probably could not remember the last time a man had held him.

Johnny looked up. Whatever intensity had hardened his eyes earlier was gone, replaced with a twinkling mischievousness that made him appear childlike himself. "Look who's here, Val. Mom. Wearing pajamas with horses on them. She's brought me some ice cream."

Val's smile widened and he rolled his head to look up at Johnny. "Val's ice cream," he said.

Frowning, Johnny shook his head. "No. My ice cream, pal. Cookies and Cream happens to be my favorite."

"Val's ice cream, pal." Val laughed as Johnny gave him an exasperated expression. "Val share?"

"I'm not sure we'll have anything to share if your mom doesn't stop standing there staring at us."

Johnny and Val looked at her expectantly, and Leah moved into the room that seemed in that moment to be surreal-the dim light playing on the posters of Rudolph Valentino on the wall, the goats curled up and comfortable on the end of Val's bed, Johnny Whitehorse and her son wrapped up together in her grandmother's old chair before an open window where night wind billowed Sesame Street Sesame Street curtains. curtains.

Handing over the bowl, her gaze locked on Johnny's, Leah gave him a trembling smile. "I think I'm going to cry."

"Don't cry," he replied softly. "Just get yourself a bowl of ice cream and join us."

"Coming right up," Shamika said from the door. She entered the room with two bowls and handed one to Leah. "As for me, I'm off to bed. Keep the party noise down and remember that Val has school tomorrow and Leah starts her new job."

Leah sat on the bed, rested the bowl on her lap, and watched Johnny spoon ice cream into her grinning son's mouth; then he he took a bite, making Val's smile grow even broader. Emotion swelled in her chest. It buzzed in her head and burned like nettles behind her eyes. At last, the two people she loved most in the world were together in one room, some palpable connection vibrating the air between them so strongly it turned the s.p.a.ce around them a soft glowing white. took a bite, making Val's smile grow even broader. Emotion swelled in her chest. It buzzed in her head and burned like nettles behind her eyes. At last, the two people she loved most in the world were together in one room, some palpable connection vibrating the air between them so strongly it turned the s.p.a.ce around them a soft glowing white.

Ice cream finished, Johnny set the bowl aside and left the chair, easily handling Val's weight as he carried the boy to the bed and tucked him under the covers, poked a Big Bird doll in beside him and kissed him on the cheek.

"Johnny stay?" Val asked, the hope in his voice undeniable.

"No."

"Johnny come back, see Val?"

"Yes."

"When."

"Soon."

"When."

"Tomorrow."

Val grinned. "Not soon enough."

Johnny laughed and tousled Val's brown hair. "You sound like your mother. I'll call you."

"Promise."

"I promise, Val. Now go to sleep. You have school tomorrow."

Still smiling, Val closed his eyes, pretending sleep, but peering at Johnny and Leah as Johnny turned away from the bed and took the bowl from Leah's hand, directing her toward the bedroom door and out into the hall.

"He's fibbing, you know. He isn't asleep." Leah said.

"I know."

He escorted her to her own bedroom, over to her bed.

"Does this mean I'm about to get lucky?" she asked, dropping down onto the edge of the mattress as Johnny pulled a chair over in front of her and sat down. The ice cream had mostly melted. He stirred it around until the chocolate chunks began to dissolve into rivulets of rich brown streaks, then he raised a spoonful of it to her mouth. "Eat," he ordered her. "And while you do I'm going to say something.

"I like your son. He looks like you. I'm sorry about his situation, but it doesn't mean I think less of either of you, or pity you, or am turned off by the idea of having a relationship with you-either of you. We're all handicapped in a way. I'm an Indian. I know what prejudice and ostracism is. I know what it feels like to not fit in. You, on the other hand, are handicapped by your fear of rejection because of Val's problems. Did you honestly think I could love you less because of Val?"

"What's a woman supposed to think when even Val's own father couldn't cope-"

"The man's an immature a.s.s, and if you're judging all men beside him then you do us one h.e.l.l of an injustice-especially me, considering our past together. Richard Starr should be castrated, or at the least given a good punch in the nose. When is the last time he saw Val?"

"Two-and-a-half years ago."

"Does he send you child support?"

"No."

"Want me to find him and break his legs?" He grinned.

"I don't think so." She grinned back.

Johnny put the bowl aside and took Leah's face between his hands. "I wish he were mine," he told her softly, and lightly kissed her mouth, making her quiver with feelings that scattered through her like dandelion fluff in a wind: weightless, spiraling, dancing to all corners of the universe.

Then he pulled away, left the chair and moved toward the door. "Will you stay?" she called out a little desperately.

"I can't, Leah. I have something to do."

Leah followed him to the front door, moving onto the porch as he jumped off the steps and headed for his truck. "What could be so important this late at night?"

"I have to see Dolores's family. They're holding her burial ceremony tonight."

"Can I come?" she asked, stopping him in his tracks. Obscured by the dark, Johnny looked around.

"You would do that?"

"I can be ready in five minutes."

"Yes, then." His voice sounded weary but relieved. "I'd like that, Leah."

A bonfire roared on the front lawn of Dolores's mother's four-room frame house. A scattering of relatives sat cross-legged around the fire, faces somber as they spoke together softly. Dolores's mother, Bernice, sat alone by a pile of Dolores's neatly folded clothes, which would be burned soon after Dolores was buried. At her back was her daughter's open coffin-a simple pine box, not the expensive mahogany casket lined with pale blue silk that Johnny had purchased-containing Dolores's body now completely wrapped in bright blankets.

Upon leaving the truck, Johnny removed his suit coat and tossed it into the backseat. He loosened his tie, flipped open the top b.u.t.ton of his black shirt, and rolled the sleeves up his forearms. He glanced at Leah, where she stood in the dark. "You can stay in the truck if you want," he told her.

"I'm here for support, remember?" She tried to smile. "The Rock of Gibraltar can hardly do its job if it's cowering in the background, can it?"

"This could get ugly. The family never approved of me much, especially after I moved off the reservation. They saw me as a bad example and believed I influenced Dolores to turn her back on her people and pursue life in the white man's world."

"Then maybe you shouldn't."

"I have a responsibility." Johnny moved toward the light. Leah fell in beside him.

Silence fell over the group as Johnny moved into the firelight. Leah dropped back as he approached Bernice Rainwater, his head slightly bowed, his eyes averted. Bernice stood.

Stopping before her, his eyes still not meeting hers, he spoke softly in Apache. "I've come here to offer you my condolences. My sorrow is deep for the loss of your daughter. I cared for her very much."

Bernice drew back her hand, then slapped his cheek hard enough to rock him back. Then she slapped the other, and spat on his chest. "You have murdered my girl, Whitehorse, and brought the ruin of this family. How am I to live now that she is gone and can no longer give me money?"

"I'm obligated to provide for you," he replied in a sharp tone, his eyes still not meeting hers. Bernice was an elder, after all, and to look at her directly, considering he was involved in Dolores's death, would have been a greater insult than slapping her.

"This family deserves more from Johnny than money," came an angry voice. Johnny looked around as Billy Rainwater, Dolores's brother, stepped between Johnny and Bernice. The younger man had painted his face for war, and he held a knife in each hand. "I demand retribution," Billy slurred through his teeth, his breath smelling heavily of whiskey. "As Dolores's brother it's my right to fight you."

"I won't fight you, Billy. The old laws no longer apply-"

"Then you're no Apache." He kicked dirt over Johnny's shoes and sneered. "But you've not been Apache in a very long time."

"Your interest in your sister comes too late for me to take you seriously," Johnny replied. "As does your apparent grief. I find it ironic that you and your mother wouldn't see her or speak to her for the last several years because you didn't approve of her lifestyle, yet you happily took her money when she offered it."

"It was the least she could do for breaking my mother's heart."

"Would you have her remain here and languish in this poverty?"

"She was an Apache."