Authors: Judith E. French
"Hell, no." He laughed. "You've been watching too
many TV shows. It's all done painlessly by Internet."
He shrugged. "I doubt there is any real money these
days. Banks just pass on electronic data, round and
round."
"You have it? That much money?"
"Don't worry about it. We won't starve, even with
our enlarged family."
"I didn't think we would. Aunt Elizabeth left me so
much, and there's my teaching pay. I'd like to take off
at least a year after this one comes." She patted her
slightly rounded belly. "Especially with the two little
ones. Not that I'm worried. After all, if I can manage a
classroom of fourth graders ..."
"I'll be here for you," he promised. "I swear I will.
For all of you. I'll be a better father than mine was if it
kills me."
It was Bailey's turn to chuckle. "Fatherhood isn't
supposed to kill you. Some men even enjoy it."
"My father didn't." He hesitated, and the silence
stretched between them before he stroked her cheek.
"He was really a shadow father," he said. "Pastor first,
scholar second."
"And husband to your mother?"
"I hope I can do a better job at that too. They were distant cousins, and Mother was well past the age of
first bloom for those days. There was always an air of
mystery about my mother. She was a self-contained
person, and everyone thought her standoffish. My
brother was born eight months to the day of their
marriage."
"A preemie."
Daniel smiled. "A large and hearty preemie, according to Aunt Birdy. Her favorite expression is that second babies take nine months-the first can come any
time."
Bailey laughed. "Apt, considering my condition.
You'll have more than tinsel under the Christmas
tree."
"But you, my dear, are not the pastor's wife." He kissed
her tenderly. "And a good thing, because it's a rough
life. Like Caesar's wife, she must be beyond reproach."
"So what you're telling me is that your parents
couldn't have been too distant before the nuptials?"
"No." He kissed her forehead. "That isn't the scan- dal. The scandal is that some on Tawes suggested Father wasn't the father at all. Her parents were well off
and provided a handsome dowry, so I'm told. Of
course, that was long before my time."
"So Matthew might be your half-brother?"
"Could explain why we have so little in common, but
I doubt it. Mother and Father barely tolerated each
other, and I don't believe either was ever cut out to be
a parent. By the time I was born, both had lost all interest in anything but Father's calling. I always felt like
a nuisance, not quite as welcome as my mother's cat."
"And you're afraid I might make this little boy feel
the same in our home?"
"No. I know you better than that."
"How do you think Lucas got him? Kidnapping?
Are we doing something illegal by taking the child?"
Daniel gripped her hand and stared at the black waterjust beyond the gunwale. "I wouldn't put that past
him, but he is just as likely to have bought him from a
relative."
"Bought him? A child? That's got to be illegaleven in Afghanistan."
"Of course it is. Afghanistan-the Muslim world has
strict rules protecting children, but Mallalai's son, if
this is her son, may have fallen outside the boundaries
of law. Giving birth to an illegitimate child is a sin,
sometimes punishable by death. Her family would be
shamed, so much so that they might not even acknowledge the boy's existence."
"They'd blame him for his birth?"
"It depends on the family, the village mullahs, and
how strict they are in the observance of the law. Slavery is officially outlawed, but an illegitimate child in a
rural village would be little better than a slave. The
chances are that he'd never be given an education or
an opportunity for advancement. He might even be
hidden from others in the community."
"Did you know her family?"
"I knew Mallalai and her brother Zahir. He was
brave and smart. A decent man. I'll never know
whether Zahir was my enemy, but he must have been. I
never saw him again after her death."
"Do you think this is your son?"
"Lucas offered me the boy's ear for DNA testing."
She clapped a hand over her mouth. "That's horrible."
"Just what I thought. He could be bluffing, but I
don't think he is. I believe this is my child, but if he
wasn't, I'd want him anyway. Can you understand that?
I saw so many kids over there, dirty, ragged, hungry.
Kids with nothing, no hope for the future. Maybe taking one, giving him a mother and a father, might make up for some of the wrong that was done to those
people."
"You think it's wrong-what our country has done
over there?"
"I don't know. It's not easy. Men have been fighting
over Afghanistan since before the time of Alexander
the Great. Maybe we've helped, and maybe we've hindered the Afghans. I don't know. I just know I met a
lot of good people, and I felt helpless to do anything
to make things better for them."
"We'll do our best to get him, this little boy. And to
keep him," she promised, "if we can find a way to do it
legally. But there's nothing more to do tonight. Can't
tonight be just for us?"
He swept her up into his arms. "I take that as an invitation, Mrs. Catlin."
"Daniel, put me down." She squealed. "Stop. Put me
down."
"In my bed, woman." He carried her down into the
cabin, where Emma had made up the double bed with
fresh sheets and sprinkled them with rose blossoms.
"You'd better not be allergic to roses," he teased, "or
we're both in trouble."
She was right. Buck would keep watch over the boat,
and there was nothing they could do until tomorrow
about Lucas. This night belonged to Bailey. Daniel
knew he hadn't answered the question she'd asked,
knew he couldn't. Not now, not ever. There were
things in his past that he'd have to bury ... memories
that he couldn't share, because if she knew ...
But she never would. No one would. He wasn't a boy
anymore, and whatever had or hadn't happened
wasn't his fault. He couldn't go on blaming himself.
He laid her down on the bed and flopped onto his
back beside her. "Ravish me, darling. I'm in your
hands, and too weak to put up a fight."
She laughed and kissed him, and the scent of her
perfume and the soft feel of her skin drove everything
else away. "I love you, Bailey Tawes Catlin," he murmured. "And I always will."
The gentle rocking of the waves stirred Abbie awake.
She pushed back the blanket, yawned, and took a few
seconds to remember why she was on a boat this morning rather than crawling out of a tent at the dig site.
She lay on her back and tugged on her shorts before
finding her T-shirt on the floor. She pulled that over
her head, ran her fingers through her hair, and
stepped up onto the deck.
"Morning, sleepyhead."
Abbie shielded her eyes against the bright light and
wondered where she'd left her sunglasses. Squinting,
she glanced around and saw that the Grady White was
still anchored in the cove far enough away to give the
honeymooners privacy.
When she looked back at Buck, she saw that he was
clad in the same shorts and Hawaiian shirt he'd
changed into after the reception. He'd obviously been
swimming this morning, because his hair was wet.
He'd taken the trouble to comb it, but he hadn't
shaved. She found the golden stubble on his cheeks and throat endearing. "You wouldn't have any fresh
coffee in your back pocket, would you?"
A lazy smile spread across his face. "Wish I did.
Once I see life over there, we'll chug over and have
some of theirs. I can smell it brewing. Forest McCready
is nothing if not prepared. He's probably got a fancy
coffeemaker, a grinder, and premium, shade-grown
Colombian beans stashed in his galley."
"Coffee and bagels wouldn't be bad."
Buck shook his head sadly. "What am I going to do
with you, Ms. Night Horse? I thought you'd be happy
with a few mussels, some dried pemmican-"
"Enough with the Indian jokes. I've heard them all,
and they aren't funny."
"Ouch!"
"Exactly." She couldn't see his eyes behind his polarized sunglasses, but she'd bet theywere bloodshot from
lack of sleep. Otherwise, he showed no signs of having
been up all night-or of the partying they'd done at
the wedding reception. Other than the few minutes
they'd stolen for a quickie, Buck had remained on
deck, keeping watch over Daniel and Bailey.
"Seriously." His deep voice grew husky. "What am I
going to do with you?"
She swallowed. "What do you mean?" She tried to
keep her tone light, but he wasn't fooled.
"Now who's playing word games?" He pulled her
onto his lap and kissed her. "You like me. Admit it. A
lot. I'm better than a ten. I'm a twelve, at least."
"On what scale?"
"Seriously, darlin'."
"Seriously, I've just lost my mother," she protested.
"You can't expect me to make any decisions. .."
"Excuses, excuses. If she heard you, she'd laugh. I
didn't look for this either, Abbie, but it found its. Maybe
we have to grab happiness by the throat while we can."
"I had a plan for my life." She sighed. "I do like you,
but there's no way-"
"Philly's not far for a lady with a helicopter."
"Buck. .." She removed his sunglasses and looked
into his eyes. They were bloodshot, but they were
more than that. She wished she hadn't taken the
glasses off. She wished her stomach wasn't doing flipflops, and she wished she didn't feel guilty making
love to him when she was supposed to be mourning
the loss of the most important person in her life. "It
could never work."
"Have I asked you to marry me and bear my strapping sons and beautiful daughters?"
"No, but. .." What was it about this man? She got
near him and broke out in goose bumps. Maybe she
was allergic to him.
"There you have it. You're jumping the gun,
woman. Call me a redneck, but in this neck of the
woods, you're supposed to let the gentleman do the
proposing."
"I wasn't proposing to you! I wasn't even
insinuating-
"No? What would you call it?"
He kissed her again, and she put her arms around his
neck to keep from sliding off his lap. Was it her fault that
she hadn't had caffeine this morning, and she'd spent
the night on a boat, and she was too lightheaded to deliver a resounding and convincing denial of affection?
"Marry me, wench. You know you want to."
"No!"
"Marry me, or I'll throw you to the jellyfish."
"You're out of your mind, Buck Davis. I'm not going
to marry anyone-ever."
"Yes, you will."
"Well, I can't marry you. We're too different. We
come from different backgrounds. If you had any idea what crazy things I do when I'm with my friends and
relations ... the food ... the superstitions ... the customs. I'm not the same person when ... when I'm ...
Indian. Or when I'm part of the academic world. With
my kind of people."
He laughed. "I'm your kind of people. Only you
don't know it yet. Let's just agree that some things between us are best left unshared. You paint your face
and run around in the dark beating drums and talking
about how the white man ruined your culture. And I'll
get roaring drunk once in a while on homemade
whiskey, rub potatoes on warts, and play hide-and-seek
with the game warden."
"You're making a joke of this. But our differences
are real, Buck. There isn't a chance in hell that we
could make it work."
He arched one eyebrow. "Maybe one or two. I agree
the odds aren't the best, but being head-over-heels for
you should count for something."
"It's sex. Nothing more. Trying to make it more
would be crazy."
"It's more than sex."
"No, it isn't." She threw up her hands. "And I won't
marry you, so you may as well stop talking about it."
"In that case ..." He seized her around the waist,
lifted her above his shoulders, and flung her over the
side of the boat.
She hit the water ass first. Shrieking, she went under, swallowed a mouthful of bay, and came up sputtering. Buck nearly landed on top of her. "You idiot!"
she cried as she struck at him with the flat of her hand.
He caught her by the waist and they both sank. Water closed over their heads. She stopped fighting him
and they surfaced together. "I warned you." He was
laughing and she was laughing.
"You're crazy," she said.
"As a loon," he agreed. "Then again, I'm not the one
who threatened to follow me out of town in a dory,
swim over, and assault my body in a sexual manner."
"I had champagne. I told you, Indians can't drink.
And I'm definitely not marrying you."
He treaded water. "I'll find a bigger cove. I'll take
you out of sight of land and throw you in."
"You'd drown me?" She was giggling as water trickled out of her nose. "You're certifiable!"