Jane Bonander (9 page)

As her equilibrium returned, Libby felt her confidence flag. She knew men made the rules. She knew Jackson had a good case against her, on paper at least. She knew he loved his daughter and wanted her to be with him. She
knew
all of those things. But she hoped that just this once they wouldn’t matter and the law would be on her side.

J
ackson made sure he was available for his daughter as often as possible, if only to say hello. When he could spend enough time, he regaled her with stories, amused her, entertained her, and virtually gave her his dog. Which, if he truly examined the gesture, was inevitable, because the Shih Tzu adored Dawn Twilight, and Jackson knew the feeling was mutual.

As anxious as he was to start a new life with her, he dragged his feet about telling her who he was. It had finally hit him, like a rock to the head
,
that Dawn Twilight really considered Libby her mother and he was half afraid that she’d consider him an outsider, unworthy of her affection. Hell, for him to tell her he was her father would be harder than fighting a legion of armed Chinese thugs.

But each evening he looked forward to any time they might have together. It had been two weeks since he’d admitted to Libby who he was, and they still treated each other like enemies teetering on a fragile truce. He had to hand it to her though, for she didn’t do or say anything to lessen him in Dawn Twilight’s eyes. That was not to say she wasn’t probably thinking the worst about him. The old saying, “if looks could kill…” seemed to flow from her eyes like poison from a rattler’s fang.

On his return from the jail, he stopped in the kitchen and found it empty. Bread cooled on racks, and the aroma from the oven made his mouth water. It reminded him of home, and the nostalgia was so strong it twisted like a knife inside him.

Glancing outside, he saw the top of his daughter’s head. He pushed the door open and found her bent over something, concentrating hard. When he stepped onto the porch, she glanced up, then quickly returned to her task. But not before he saw the tears in her eyes. Something queer happened to his heart.

“Now, now. I don’t like to see a pretty little girl cry. What’s wrong?” He rarely called her Dawn, for he was afraid he’d slip and call her by her full name. He wasn’t yet prepared to answer her questions.

She sniffed. “Oh, it’s just this dumb mark on my knee.” She hiccuped, then sniffed again. “I scrub it and scrub it
,
but it just won’t go away.”

A shaft of memory slashed through him, weakening him.

“A mark on your knee? Do you … Would you mind if I took a look?”

With a shrug, she extended her bare leg in his direction. “I’ve had it as long as I can remember. It’s ugly,” she added, on the verge of fresh tears.

The tattoo,
God, why hadn’t he remembered? Forcing himself to stay calm, he studied the raindrop-shaped mark. Memories of the day the tribal holy man had put it there gusted through him like sleet on a winter wind.

This would have been the perfect opportunity to tell her who he was. Yet he couldn’t. And it wasn’t just because Libby wasn’t around. It was because he was still a coward about Dawn Twilight’s reaction, even though he knew she’d eventually thank him for coming back. He hoped.

“Do you know the story of the raindrop clan?”

Dawn Twilight sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “N-no,” she stammered.

“It’s a very fine story. Want to hear it?”

She gave him a halfhearted shrug. “I guess so.”

He settled down next to her. “The people of the raindrop clan lived near the great ocean,” he began, his voice taking on the cadence of the tribal storytellers.

“Their days were always filled with good things. Fog shrouded their mornings, sunshine warmed their afternoons, and rain fell every night while they slept. They had the perfect world. Then, for no reason they could understand, everything changed.”

Interested, Dawn Twilight asked, “What happened?”

“One season passed, and they had no rain. The people of the clan didn’t panic, for they had experienced the passing of a dry season once before, but always before, the fog had continued to kiss their mornings.”

“But this time was different?” She drew her legs up and rested her chin on her knees.

Jackson nodded. “This time the fog didn’t greet them each morning, only the sun. And as the days grew long, and the shadows bent across the dry, parched earth, the sun continued to beat down upon them and their crops. The crops shriveled up and died. The fish, always so abundant, disliked the warmth of the water, so swam north, where the water was cooler. The animals, too, left for wetter, cooler places, many going into the mountains where rain came more often.”

“So … so the people didn’t have any food?”

“The people were starving.”

She chewed on her lower lip, her expression pensive. The mannerism was like Flicker Feather’s, and he waited for the pain, but there was only a distant memory.

“And what did they do, Mr. Wolfe?”

He ached for her to call him Papa. “An ancient holy man, so old no one remembered him ever being young, recalled the story of a beautiful maiden who lived on top of the mountain. A maiden who had special powers to speak with the spirits of the heavens.”

“Did they go to her?”

“Oh, they wanted to, but it wasn’t as simple as that. The mountain on which she lived was often an angry one, spewing dust and fire into the air. They feared its temper. They assumed the maiden was responsible for the anger. Only a special person could be sent up there safely. Unfortunately, they had no guess as to who that special person might be.”

“So who did they send?”

Jackson crossed one booted ankle over the other and leaned into the chair. “As luck would have it, the holy man sent the most handsome, most courageous brave to plead with her to intercede on the tribe’s behalf. His only flaw was his eyes. One of them was blue, like the fresh mountain springs. The other was a deep, rich brown. If the maiden didn’t approve of their choice, not only would their request for rain be refused, but they would see drought for ten more seasons.”

“And did she accept him?” Dawn Twilight’s eyes were wide, pulling Jackson in.

“Not at first,” he explained, “for it was dark when he arrived. Her first command was that he prove he was willing to sacrifice himself to save the tribe.”

Her dark brows pinched together. “He had to die?”

“He had to prove to her that he was willing,” he amended, smiling into her upturned face.

“What did he do?”

“He vowed that he would throw himself into the mountain’s burning, flaming mouth if that would save his people.”

Dawn Twilight gasped, placing her sweet, delicate hands over her mouth. “Did he die?” Her question was a shaky whisper.

Jackson graced his daughter with a warm smile. “No. When the maiden was confident the brave would give his life for the others, she called him away from the rim of the crater. As they stood together, they discovered they shared a unique feature, for the maiden also had one blue eye and one brown.”

“So what does that mean?”

“It means that for every lovely young creature on God’s earth there is a mate. Have patience, little one. Consider your mark a kiss from the gods.”

Glancing at her tattoo, Dawn sighed. “I suppose it isn’t such a bad mark after all.”

Jackson couldn’t conceal his smile. “I think it’s beautiful. It makes you special, Dawn Tw—” He cleared his throat.
“It makes you very special indeed.”

She continued to gaze at the tattoo, her expression so wistful it twisted at Jackson’s heart. “The mark would be more special if a handsome prince had one just like it, like in the story.”

He choked back a surge of emotion, wondering how long he could keep up the charade.

Carefully hidden beside the window, Libby had listened to the story. She pressed her fingers against her eyes to stop the sting of tears. Since his shocking admission, he’d risen a bit in her estimation, for he’d kept his promise not to tell Dawn who he was until she could be there. It had to be killing him. Still
,
she wondered why he hadn’t told her it was time.

Not that she wanted him to. Lord, no. If he never told Dawn who he was, it would be soon enough for her. But, she realized with some disappointment, that was her opinion. As nice as he was to his daughter, he didn’t know anything about raising a child, especially a girl-child. That, unfortunately, was the only thread she had to hang on to. And as she listened to him now, that thread had begun to grow thin.

Suddenly Dawn came through the door, barely stopping as she spoke. “Gotta get my sums done, Mama. I’ll be in my room.” She sounded, well, positively… positive.

Jackson followed her inside, his gaze on Libby. “You’ve been listening.”

“That’s what you were talking about before, the legends of her ancestors.”

“Yes,” he answered, his gaze not leaving her.

She should have been apologetic, but she wasn’t. There were scores of reasons why she didn’t believe he was best for Dawn. “This still doesn’t prove to me that you’re her father.”

“I’ve got proof now,” he answered cryptically.

Libby got a funny feeling in the pit of stomach. “What proof?”

“The tattoo.”

“That… that mark on her knee? How is that proof of anything?”

“I’ve got one just like it.”

Libby felt as though she were drowning. “You… you’ve got one?”

One corner of his mouth lifted into a sexy smile, causing her heart to flip-flop. “You don’t remember seeing it the other day?”

The fateful morning when Mahalia had stripped him of his bedding sprang to her mind. But she hadn’t been looking at his knees…. Warmth crept over her skin at the memory, making her cheeks hot.

“But you weren’t looking at my legs, were you?”

Her flush deepened, for he’d obviously read her mind. Sometimes she didn’t understand him at all. One minute he was cold and aloof, the next he teased her. He’d knocked her off-balance from the very first day.

She didn’t know how to respond to such banter. She’d never learned. It was best simply to ignore the innuendo. “So you have proof. That’s all fine and good, but how do I know you won’t get itchy feet and leave again?” At this point, his wanderlust was her best defense. Maybe her only defense.

His eyes hardened. “What makes you think that’s what happened the first time?”

“Do you want to argue the point?”

His gaze shifted to one side. “I’m here to stay.”

“So you say. Seems to me, though, that once a man has tasted that kind of freedom, he can’t quite kick the habit. What happens to your daughter if the lure of adventure becomes too strong to resist, and you go gallivanting off to fight another revolution?”

“That won’t happen.”

The fact that he couldn’t meet her gaze gave her the real answer. So this was the way it would be. She couldn’t refuse his request to be with Dawn, but she would fight with everything she had to keep him from taking Dawn away from her.

“You can continue to see Dawn, under my supervision. I will also determine some of the activities you must attend with her.”

“Activities?”

She hid a triumphant smile. It was a good idea for him to see the pain Dawn went through on a daily basis. Pain because of her mixed blood. Perhaps the hardships of her life would drive him off once and for all. Libby had no doubt that he’d dreamed up some sort of fantasy life with his child. He had no idea how hard the reality was. Perhaps the reality would change his mind. She could only hope.

“Before you tell her who you are, you must observe her life, Jackson. Not just what you see here but what she goes through at school, on the street, everywhere.”

He shrugged. “That’ll be a pleasure.”

Her smile was melancholy. “We’ll see. There’s a box social at the school tomorrow at noon. I want you to come with me.”

Stroking his chin, Jackson watched the progress from the back of the schoolroom. Libby sat next to him. Besides Chloe Ann Parker, the teacher, they were the only adults in the room. She’d agreed to let them observe the box social. In fact, she’d been quite enthusiastic.

Beside him, Jackson felt Libby’s tension. She was taut as a wire, her gaze never leaving Dawn Twilight. And even though his daughter sat among the other children, Jackson felt she was alone. She was the only breed in the class. A ton of emotions thrashed around in his gut, and he was unable to sort them out.

The bidding for the baskets began. Jackson knew that Dawn Twilight’s, tied with a bright green bow, was filled with Mahalia’s delicious fried chicken, buttermilk biscuits, and apple pie. His mouth watered just thinking about it. Unfortunately, only the boys in the class were able to bid.

The first basket to go belonged to a pretty blond girl with long pigtails. A tall, gangly boy offered for it and was not challenged. Jackson sat forward, his hands clenched into fists on his knees as he waited.

“I want the one with the green bow.” A tough-looking boy barely into his teens stood up and pointed at Dawn Twilight’s basket. Jackson grabbed Libby’s hand and squeezed it while he held his breath.

Libby leaned close. “That’s Willie Frost, one of the banker’s sons.”

Jackson noted that Libby’s eyes were hard. Dawn Twilight turned her face to the side, affording Jackson a view of her profile, and her expression of dread. He waited, his jaw set. The boy, Willie, leaned across to a friend and whispered something, which caused the other lad to emit a wild snicker.

Jackson nearly came out of his chair; Libby dragged him back.

“You can’t interfere,” she ordered, her voice soft yet stern.

Jackson sat down but didn’t relax. Couldn’t. “If he does anything to hurt my daughter—”

Libby pinched his arm. “Just wait a while. See what happens.”

It appeared no one else would bid on Dawn’s basket, and Jackson knew a pain he’d never experienced before, not even in all the years he’d been fighting.

“I’d like that basket.” The voice was husky, on the verge of manhood. Dawn swung around, facing the back of the classroom. Jackson’s gaze followed.

Libby leaned into him. “He must be new. I’ve never seen him before.”

Jackson studied the lad, looking for the same snide attitude he’d seen in the Frost boy, but found none.

“Hey,” Willie Frost sputtered. “The breed’s basket is mine. I asked for it first.”

“Willie,” Chloe Ann warned. “You will not use that word in this room. Have I made myself clear?”