Somewhere to Dream (Berkley Sensation) (10 page)

CHAPTER
16

The Importance of a Name

The cat moved in. Just to annoy Soquili, Jesse called the little feline Gitli, which he knew very well meant “dog.” After Adelaide assured Soquili it was a joke, Soquili had joined in, calling Jesse “A-ta,” or woman. That wasn’t the only nickname Jesse got. The old woman called him Tloo-da-tsì. Adelaide pronounced it “Loo-Dot-See,” and told him it meant “cougar.”

“Why cougar?” he asked. “My scar?”

She shrugged. It was a small gesture, her slight shoulders lifting and falling like a sigh under the faded deerskin tunic. Everything about Adelaide looked sad: her gestures, her expressions, her eyes, even the way her white-blond hair hung weakly over her shoulders when it wasn’t braided. Such a deep sadness. As if all hope had been sucked from her soul. Sometimes the sadness got so all-consuming that he didn’t want to be around her, because it wanted company. Being sad just wasn’t Jesse’s way.

Mostly, though, he did want to be around her. A lot.

He’d gone to her house that morning, needing to hear a little English, wanting to see a little of her. She’d been startled when she saw him there, but her immediate panicked glance—which he’d noticed was the expression she always used first—faded swiftly into amusement. And later softened into an actual smile. Yep, he had a way with the ladies, he thought proudly. Usually he used these natural gifts with the purpose of reaching his ultimate goal: kissing and cuddling never did anyone any harm. And though he would dearly love to experience that with Adelaide, he had a different reason to use his charm this time. He needed her to like him so she could help him. This village was an entirely different world, and it didn’t appear he’d be getting out anytime soon.

“The Cherokee believe your animal chooses you, so the scar could be part of it. But it’s not just that, I don’t think.” She squinted at him, her head cocked a bit to the side. “No. It’s more than that. It’s in your eyes.”

“There’s cougar in my eyes? Come on, Adelaide. What’s that supposed to mean?”

She smiled at him, though even then she couldn’t quite manage to slip the sadness out of her expression.

“Let’s go for a walk,” she suggested. “I’ll tell you a bit about Cherokee legends. It might help you understand things better.”

He shrugged, trying to keep the motion casual. “I got nothing else to do. Lead on, my lady.”

They strolled along the edge of the village, and on impulse Jesse stooped to pluck a daisy, then handed it to her. When she raised her eyebrows, he blushed, surprising himself. He felt vaguely exposed, letting this stranger see a weakness, and he looked away, pretending to study the line of the trees. From the corner of his eye, he saw her touch the petals of the daisy, one by one, then gesture toward the forest.

She stepped into the trees ahead of him, deftly finding a deer track and following it straight up the mountain, winding through rocks and shrubs, ducking under branches of looming oak and maple. He was quiet behind her, admiring how the smooth deerskin dress clung to the lines of her body as she moved, waiting for her to start up the conversation. Jesse was hungry for all the information she could give him, but he sensed she needed to be handled with kid gloves. That was all right. He could give her room.

She stepped into an open space at the top of one of the peaks, and the view just about took his breath away. The ancient gray of the granite cliff, smoothed by time, extended like a hand over the Keowee Valley, so he and Adelaide seemed to stand on God’s palm while they looked out. The view almost didn’t seem possible; the forests were so lush below them, it was as if the trees were grass. As if he could just step off this cliff, and they’d be soft under his feet. Through the green snaked the Keowee River, tumbling through bubbling white rapids, then calming and continuing its journey as if nothing had happened.

“Careful you don’t step out too far,” Adelaide said, her voice soft behind him. He’d almost forgotten she was there, he’d been so distracted by the view. Almost. Not entirely. Now he was more than aware of her, standing close enough that he could turn and set his hands on her waist if he dared. “When the wind comes up, it feels like it could snatch you right off,” she explained.

“I can handle it.”

As if she’d called it, a sudden gust nudged him, checking to see if he was attached or not. It stroked up his side and ruffled his hair, then moved on, searching for easier prey. It was a cool breeze, but he kept warm within his deerskin shirt, relieved the Cherokee had let him keep his trousers after Adelaide patched the holes. He never had gotten used to those breechclout things. Seemed awfully close to naked in his opinion. And though he was as happy as the next man to wear nothing but the hair on his body, he didn’t think it was proper for the ladies to see that. Not even the Cherokee ladies.

Adelaide had settled against a pile of boulders and looked comfortable lounging within its edges. She watched him with blue eyes that shone like stars within her tanned face, pale in comparison with the cloudless sky. The breeze had roused a red glow in her gentle cheeks, which were being tickled by blond wisps of hair that had blown from their ties while she’d climbed. Jesse stared at her, momentarily tongue-tied. She looked like a fairy, her sweet pink mouth relaxed in a calm smile, her colouring almost ethereal. He wondered if she had any idea how beautiful she was.

“Soquili brought Maggie and me here a long time ago,” she said, not appearing to notice his hesitation. “He told us a Cherokee legend about how the world began.”

“Sure is a pretty place,” he replied, finding his words again. He walked toward her, looking for a place to sit, and eventually claimed a large boulder with another behind so he could lean back. He closed his eyes, letting the sun bake his lids.

“You wanted to know about your Cherokee name, Tloo-da-tsì. Cougar,” she said, and he opened his eyes again. She was looking at him in that way, like she was thinking carefully about every word she was about to say. “I think it’s more than your hair or your eyes. I’m not sure the Grandmother even thinks about colour. It’s what is
in
you. She can see it, you know.”

“That’s one strange old lady,” he muttered.

She chuckled. “Don’t say that in front of the others. I thought she was pretty frightening in the beginning, but she’s an amazing woman once you get to know her. Just nothing like what you and I knew before we came here.”

Jesse didn’t say anything. She’d inadvertently revealed a tiny gem about herself, and he didn’t want to scare her back into hiding. He wanted to ask her all about her life before she’d come here, find out what invisible bonds tied her here. Because it seemed like being in the village was her choice, and he just couldn’t understand that. She never seemed able to open up about herself, but Jesse was determined to wait patiently. He was good at that. He focused on her, trying to appear both attentive and harmless. It seemed to work, because she started speaking again in that almost whisper.

“The Grandmother is teaching me a few things about myself, too,” she said shyly. “My sister . . .” She stopped, looking shocked at her own words. “I’m sorry. I can’t tell you about her.”

He frowned. “Why not?”

“Because you might think she’s something she’s not. She just . . . can do things other people can’t.”

“Like what?”

She sighed, her expression tortured.

“I don’t judge folks,” he assured her.

“It’s not that. It’s, well, we never used to tell anyone, but since we came here, it seems so . . . normal. It’s just that I haven’t spoken with a white man in so long . . .”

As he watched, her gaze seemed to cloud, her expression to tighten so that her cheeks sucked slightly in. She didn’t blink.

“Adelaide?”

Her eyes snapped back into focus. “I’m sorry. What were we . . . ?”

“Your sister? Me not judging?”

She gnawed on her lip, then blurted, “Maggie sees things in her dreams. Things that are coming. She’s always had those dreams, but Wah-Li showed her how to become stronger and use them better. Wah-Li thinks I can do some of that, too, but I’m not very good at it.”

Jesse’s eyes narrowed despite himself. “You have visions? Don’t that make you a witch?”

She shot him a glance, and fear spread across her face. “I’m no witch.”

“Hey,” he said, raising open hands in surrender. “Just asking. I’m not about to string you up for some kind of witch talk.”

“I’m not a witch,” she insisted, then frowned and looked away. “Maybe you don’t want to hear what I have to say.”

“Now you’re just being stubborn.”

She looked back at him and gave a little half smile, one side of her mouth quirking up and lighting her eyes. Jesse liked the look of that, and he was determined to see more of it. Her smile both calmed and excited him at the same time.

“Maybe so,” she admitted. “You being a cougar, you’d recognize that.”

He rolled his eyes. “What are you going on about now?”

“Okay,” she said, letting her smile broaden. “The Cherokee think we all have animal partners. Like our spirits are similar to the ones in specific animals.”

“And I’m like a goddamn cougar. How’s that?”

Her eyes looked at his, the blue surprisingly intense as she assessed him. “I’m guessing you like to be alone, and that you can be patient.”

“Sometimes,” he said, starting to grin. He liked games like this.

“You’re obviously not afraid of challenges and are quick to fight. Pretty strong, too.”

“You got that right,” he assured her.

“And when people need a peacemaker, they come to you.”

He looked away. “Yeah, sometimes. So? What’s that have to do with anything? Cougars solve problems for folks? Never heard of that before.” Yeah, that happened, and he never enjoyed those requests. It usually got him in trouble with both sides. But he did usually seem to be the only one with the guts to stand up and say what needed to be said. He’d give her that one, too, though he’d rather skip over it.

“Hmm,” she tilted her head to the side. “That’s just another one of the qualities the Cherokee say are part of the cougar. It’s interesting, her thinking you’re a cougar. Because there’s a lot more to it—and for you to be here with the Cherokee, well, it makes a lot of sense. Or rather . . . it
could
make a lot of sense.”

His smile faded. “I lost you.”

“Okay. Here it is. The Cherokee believe that when you are a cougar, you are climbing to a higher place in your life. You are changing, becoming stronger in your heart.”

He didn’t speak for a moment, letting her words stew a bit before he tasted them. They felt eerily real.

For so many years, Jesse had cried in his sleep, cowered in panic, hid from his father’s wrath. He’d been so young, for God’s sake. He hadn’t understood. He’d witnessed his father’s crimes, and he’d known Thomas was a very bad man. But no one else appeared to see Thomas in that light. They all looked up to him, vied for his attention, did his bidding without question.

Despite Thomas’s apparent intentions, Jesse had grown into a man. And while he didn’t try to kid himself into thinking he was a particularly good man, he felt pretty confident that he was a better one than Thomas. He took his beatings when he had no other choice, but he also challenged his father on occasion. He even led a separate life by going to visit Doc. He learned about the world, and he learned about himself. He’d grown from being a helpless victim of his father’s madness to being an independent man who knew right from wrong.

Changing? Growing stronger in his heart? Yeah. That was safe to say. Kind of an interesting coincidence, that cougar connection.

She had stopped talking and now watched her fingers as they drew circles on her skirt. She looked anxious, as if she was unsure if she should have said anything. She was a nervous little filly, half-broke, needing a gentle hand.

“And what kind of animal are you?” he asked.

She blushed, still looking down. “I don’t know.”

“I kind of see you as a mouse.”

She glanced at him, her expression torn between amusement and disappointment. “A mouse? Why, no one likes mice.”

“Oh, that’s not what I meant. Do folks like cougars? No. I was only saying you’re small and timid. Kind of nervous.”

That seemed to reassure her. She nodded a little. “I guess so. I’d rather not be a mouse, though.”

“You’d like to be a cougar?”

“No, not quite.” She sighed. “I know I deserve to be called a mouse, but if I could change, it would be something a little braver. Maybe that’ll come with time.”

“What’s got you so scared, little mouse?” he asked, then bit his tongue. He should have kept his big mouth shut, waited a little longer, because those pale blue eyes stopped twinkling, stopped smiling. It was as if a door slammed shut in her mind.

I’d like to kill the son of a bitch that hurt her.

She looked away. “It’s nothing. I’ve always been that way. My sister’s the brave one.” Her gaze dropped back to her hands, clasped on her lap, and she looked very young indeed. “But I need to get stronger. I will. I can’t hide behind other people my whole life.”