Chapter Fourteen
Warning: This chapter contains sensitive material/issues that may be upsetting or offensive to some readers.
Sully's dreams were interrupted when he began to wake. He no longer felt cold and dizzy. He was warm, dry and comfortable. The smell of smoke caused him to cough, and he felt the pain in his head again. He moved his hand toward his wound, but he found that it was neatly bandaged. He reached out blindly, and his hand grew warm. He pulled back and slowly opened his eyes. The bright orange glow of a campfire awaited his sensitive eyes, and he blinked several times, letting his vision adjust.
He felt disoriented, but he soon felt the pain in his ankle. He looked down to find that he was naked and wrapped inside an animal skin of some kind. It was large, and it looked to be a buffalo hide. He pulled the material off of his leg long enough to see that a makeshift splint had been secured on his broken ankle. He groaned in pain, and felt the dizziness coming back.
"I have set the bones in your ankle," came that voice again. Sully sat up slowly and looked across the flames. The man he'd seen earlier in the rain was sitting before him. "Natsêhestahe. I am Cheyenne." Sully nodded.
"Ya said your name was…Cloud Dancin', right?"
"Yes," he answered with a simple nod. "And you are Sully." Sully then noticed the gray wolf that had confronted him earlier. The animal was lying at Sully's feet as if he was guarding the injured ankle. Sully didn't pull away in fear, however. He looked into the yellow eyes and saw an animal of tremendous loyalty, strength and courage. The wolf lifted his head from his paws, and the firelight caused his eyes to glow.
"What happened to me?" Sully asked, the events of that day after reading Michaela's letter were rather fuzzy.
"You fell during the storm." Sully nodded. "You were unconscious many times. He found you." He nodded toward the wolf. "He is my friend, but he is now your protector." Sully shook his head in confusion. "He will now travel with you." Sully stared at Cloud Dancing in disbelief.
"I can't have a wolf," he remarked. He went to move, but groaned in pain. Cloud Dancing handed over a cup of dark liquid.
"Drink this. It will ease the pain." Sully was willing to try anything now, so he took the cup in his hands and drank the hot liquid down, not stopping to savor whatever taste it may have had.
"What is it?" Sully asked after he'd drank the last sip.
"Willow bark tea," Cloud Dancing answered. Sully placed the cup aside and leaned back. He was feeling better already. He glanced at the wolf. "He will not hurt you. As I said, he is your protector."
"What's his name?" Sully asked, staring into the eyes of the wild beast.
"He does not have a name. He is simply a ho'nehe. A wolf."
"Wolf," Sully said with a nod. "Sounds good to me. Wolf." The animal sat up at attention, and Sully chuckled. "Guess that is his name after all." Sully looked up at the older man. There was such wisdom in Cloud Dancing's eyes; so many years of knowledge. "Can I ask you somethin'?" Cloud Dancing said nothing. "Why'd you say it?" After more silence, Sully spoke again. "Why did you say I don't have the white man's spirit?" Cloud Dancing seemed to ponder this for a few more moments. Finally, he nodded.
"The ve'ho'e take what is not theirs. They make it their own. You do not take from others. You give and learn what is needed, and when you need, you take only what you need to survive." Sully was about to say something else. "But taking always comes with a price. You feel guilt. You wish to pay back what you have taken." How did he know?
"How do you know that?" he asked, staring across the dancing flames.
"The Spirits tell me," he said, looking around. Sully looked around, seeing nothing. "We are alike. We see people for who they are and not how much they are worth."
"Ya knew this before ya found me?" Sully asked skeptically. Cloud Dancing smiled a little.
"Ho'nehe led me to you. He found you. I followed him and the guidance of the Spirits." Cloud Dancing scratched the wolf behind the ears. "He knows danger."
"I can't take your wolf," Sully said, holding up his hands. Cloud Dancing stopped touching the animal and folded his hands in his lap.
"To refuse a gift is an insult," Cloud Dancing explained. Sully swallowed hard, and he looked at Wolf. Yes, Wolf was certainly the animal's name. The flap door to the teepee opened, and an Indian woman came in with something in her hands. Cloud Dancing said something to her quietly in Cheyenne, and Sully couldn't make out the words. But, he relaxed a little when Cloud Dancing turned his attention back to him. The Cheyenne woman handed Cloud Dancing a water skin, and he held it out to Sully. "Drink." Sully took the object into his hands and began to drink from it. "This is my wife. She is called Hesta'se Ve'keso." Sully shook his head.
"What's that mean?"
"It means Snow Bird," Cloud Dancing replied. Sully nodded his head toward the woman.
"It's nice to meet ya, Snow Bird." He extended his hand to her. Snow Bird smiled warmly, the fire reflecting in her eyes. She took his hand, shook it and left silently.
"I was able to stop the bleeding," Cloud Dancing said, pointing to Sully's forehead. Sully nodded gratefully.
"Ya saved my life, didn't ya?" Cloud Dancing paused.
"This is not the first time you have been rescued." Sully swallowed hard, thinking of Michaela. Her beautiful face filled his thoughts and made his heart thump harder. Cloud Dancing noticed the look on his face, and he knew a woman was on his mind, but he said nothing of it. "Your will is strong. You could have survived on your own."
"I don't know how to repay ya." Cloud Dancing held up a hand.
"There is no need. You must rest and let your body heal." Sully felt his body grow tired again, and he leaned back in the buffalo hide. He watched the smoke from the fire swirl up and dance to the top of the teepee and out into the sky. Wolf put his head on his paws and watched his new master protectively, and soon, Sully felt his eyes droop, and he succumbed to sleep again.
Lydia sighed as she sat at her window watching the rest of Boston wind down and go to bed. The lights went off one by one, and soon, not a room on the street had a light in the window except for hers. She sighed heavily, looking out into the dark night. Her mind couldn't help but wander to David. She wondered what he was doing and thinking. She wondered if he was suffering. She hoped he was. He deserved to suffer. So did she. She was just as guilty as he was for the sin they committed together, though she felt remorse, and David didn't.
She was trembling, thinking of how cold and callous he'd been to her shortly after their rendezvous. She closed her eyes, thinking of that night.
She lay sprawled along the bed under a quilt her great grandmother had made. She'd spent the last few hours in the arms of a man she'd thought was so strong, handsome, caring and wonderful. David was lying beside her, his limbs now rigid. He was staring into the flame of the candle near the bed, and Lydia wondered why he wouldn't look her in the eyes.
"David," she whispered, her fingers trailing down his chest and through his chest hair, basking in the afterglow of the passionate sin they had just committed. David tensed more, and Lydia sat up, letting the quilt drop into her lap. Her full breasts were exposed to David's scrutinizing eyes, yet he wouldn't look. "I don't need the money, David. If that's what this is about…"
"You will keep quiet," he said sternly. "I will make sure you have your money." She wanted to be happy with him. She wanted to pay for her sins, but perhaps spending a lifetime with him could make up for it. She doubted David was the kind of man to do such a thing, however.
"I don't think payment is warranted, darling. I'll keep quiet anyway," she whispered, moving her fingers to his cheek. Did she dare touch him in that way? She certainly wasn't in love with him. She'd just never been looked at in the way David had looked at her. She'd never felt wanted in the way he had wanted her. He pushed her hand off of his face.
"In return, I'd like you to remember to remain quiet." He climbed out of bed and strode naked across the room. Lydia pulled the quilt up around her body, feeling far too exposed now. She was feeling a plethora of emotions now; none of them were good.
"David, please, look at me," Lydia commanded. David swallowed hard. Perhaps he was just embarrassed. They'd never been together like this before, and it had happened so fast. He'd been so seductive. Perhaps he was a sensitive person. Perhaps he was feeling as if he'd taken advantage of her. "Don't be embarrassed."
"I'm not," David replied, slipping his pants on and fastening the buttons.
"Then what's wrong? David, what you said to me earlier…"
"I meant it. You're a beautiful woman. Very desirable."
"So what's the problem? We're not married, so what? The rest of the world doesn't have to know what went on behind this door. Only we know, and there aren't any regrets. Are there?" David stiffened again before pulling on his shirt. "David!" She'd only wanted to say what he wanted to hear, and now she didn't know how to read him. David Lewis certainly was unpredictable!
"Lydia, you can't expect this to continue, can you?"
"I thought…"
"If you were assuming this would go further than what it has, you're sadly mistaken. I'm a respectable doctor."
"And I was a respectable nurse! Now what am I?"
"You'll continue to be one," he answered coldly. "Nobody has to know." Lydia watched him pull his boots on and move toward the door. Lydia suddenly felt empty. She'd know.
"So that's it, is it? You're leaving? What's wrong with me, David? Why can't you look at me?" He paused, his hand on the doorknob. Without turning to look at her, he answered and walked out the door.
"You're not her."
Lydia closed her eyes, those three words haunting her to this day. Of course she wasn't the object of David's affection. But, at least she had been for a few short hours. Her time with him had been good, but he'd been so distant. He wouldn't look her in the eye. He said he didn't regret it, but it was obvious that he did, and she had started regretting it too. Now, each day was filled with guilt and regret, but she was moving on. She wasn't letting her mistake with David push her down. She'd find a way to live with what she did.
As Lydia looked out of her window, she saw a figure walking down the street. She peered out, and finally recognized him as the man who she'd seen earlier as she was sweeping off the porch steps. He was looking up at her house, and it startled her. This wasn't funny. She needed to tell him to go away. She quickly pulled on her robe and left her room. She moved to the front door and walked out onto the steps. Albert was already passing.
"Excuse me?" Lydia asked. "What are you doing here?" Albert stopped and turned toward her voice.
"Going home," he said with a dry laugh. "Did you come out to wave me home?" Lydia smirked.
"I saw you looking at my house."
"Oh, that? I was just making sure you didn't miss a spot earlier," he replied. Lydia scoffed and shook her head. "You sure came out here in a hurry, didn't you?"
"You're awfully bold aren't you?"
"So you're going to play that game, are you?"
"What game?"
"See, I told you. You're answering a question with a question." Lydia rolled her eyes.
"What are you doing out this late, anyway?" Albert put his hands in his pockets and stared at her, proving his point.
"I told you. I'm going home. I was working late at the office. A lawyer's work is never done."
"You're a lawyer?" she asked, immediately picturing herself suing the pants off of David Lewis.
"Yes, Miss. Do you need my expertise?" he asked, stepping closer to her. She pulled her robe closer around her body.
"No. No I don't," she replied. "Are you so desperate for money that you'll ask any stranger on the street?"
"See, I'm not quite sure I understand. We're not quite strangers, Miss. We met earlier today. And if I remember right, you don't have any money to offer. You work here." Lydia felt like throwing something at him. He merely smiled, and she couldn't help but bite back a grin. He was a challenge, this one.
"We are strangers. We don't know each other." She turned toward the door.
"The name's Albert Johnson," he replied. Lydia turned back to face him.
"Lydia Grayson," she replied.
"Nice to officially meet you, Miss Grayson."
"What makes you think I'm a Miss?" Albert smiled and stepped a little closer.
"Because, I don't think any husband would want a wife as pretty as you to work as a maid." Lydia was taken by this statement. He wasn't saying it in a suggestive way, and it didn't seem as if he had any meaning other than a compliment behind it. She swallowed hard, felt her cheeks flushing, and she rushed inside, shutting the door quietly behind her. Albert smiled and shook his head. This Lydia Grayson was a challenge, but he liked it. Perhaps that was why he'd pursued Michaela all of these years. She always walked away. But there was something different about Lydia. She seemed to be scarred. She wasn't perfect, though she was beautiful. He knew this wouldn't be the last time he saw her. In fact, he was sure of it.
Charlotte woke feeling pain in her abdomen. She knew what was happening, and she didn't want it to happen. She reached for Ethan, but he wasn't there. She cried out. He still wasn't home. God, she should have realized he wouldn't be. Perhaps hope had got in the way again.
She felt the muscles in her abdomen clenching, and she lay back, praying that it wouldn't happen. She couldn't let it. She needed this child. She needed to give her love to this little one.
"Ma?" Colleen asked, sitting up in bed. Charlotte bit her cheek to stop from screaming.
"What is it, sweetheart?" she asked as calmly as she could.
"Are you okay?" the little girl asked.
"Just fine, baby. Go back to sleep."
"You sure?"
"Yes, Colleen. Go back to sleep, sweetheart." Soon, the room was silent again, and Charlotte pulled herself out of bed. She slipped into her robe and rushed out of the house. She walked as quickly as she could toward the barn. She couldn't let the children see this.
She pulled the barn doors closed, and one of the cows woke with a start. She moved into an empty and clean stall and lay down in the hay. She tried to relax, but her body was in so much pain. She wanted to curl up and sleep, but this little one wouldn't let her.
She lay there now, the strength draining from her. Only her will told her she wouldn't lose this baby. She couldn't. This baby had to be born, because he or she had a purpose in this world.
Tears stung her eyes, and she lay back as the pain overtook her. She waited and waited for the end. But it never came. She lay there for an hour, and the pain tapered off. It was gone. Was her baby still alive? Would it still be there in the morning? She swallowed hard, the unknown scaring the life out of her.
The cold of the night clung to Michaela's skin as she peered into the darkness toward her assailant. She scooted back against the wall of an old brick building, and as the clouds parted, the moon revealed her attacker. David.
"David?" she asked, tears stinging her skin.
"I told you. You're going to be mine. I told you I'd make you see."
"See what?" Michaela asked, her breath hitching.
"You love me," he said, stepping closer. Michaela looked for an escape, but she was cornered, her body sitting in puddles of only God knew what. She was shaking out of fear and disgust.
"Don't do this, David. Please," she whispered almost inaudibly.
"It's for your own good, my love. He doesn't love you the way I love you. I'll make you see it. I'll make you feel it," he replied. Feel? She felt her stomach lurch as he stepped closer. "I've desired you from the moment I saw you, and I know you feel the same. He pulled her up and pushed her against the wall, trapping her body between his and the hard brick.
"No," she said, shaking her head. "Let me go!" His hand wrapped around her throat and squeezed just enough to make her choke. He let her go.
"You yell like that again, I'll snap your neck," he seethed. She saw the anger inside of him, and she reached up, tearing the eye patch from his face and throwing it away. She tried to hit his damaged eye, but he took her wrists strongly in his hands. He pushed her down onto the concrete and pinned her hands above her head with one hand. His other hand moved violently toward her skirt, pushing it further up…up. Michaela cried out, but David's hold on her wrists grew tighter. He pressed bruising kisses to her mouth, and she held in the sickness that was bubbling up in her stomach when his tongue plunged between her lips.
"Please no," she gasped when he pulled his mouth away from hers. His hand ripped at her skirt, and as he moved closer…closer, her nails raked at the fabric of his coat. She cried out and thrust a knee into his stomach. He fell back, gasping for air. She finally let loose. She leaned over and vomited onto the dark concrete. She couldn't stop herself. She was so shaken. She needed to get away. She had to run.
She pulled herself to her feet and began to run, but a hand grabbed her ankle, yanking her roughly to the ground. She felt him pull himself on top of her, cutting off her air supply. She felt his sick excuse of an arousal pressing into her stomach. She cried out as his hands ventured up her skirt again. She closed her legs tightly, and David grew infuriated.
"Little whore! You're saving it all for him, aren't you!" he spat. Michaela was sobbing now, and he threw his hand back and brought it to her face with a sickening slap. Her jaw began to throb in pain, and he hit her again and again. She felt a hand grab her breast, squeezing it roughly, and she tried to fight him off. She kicked him and beat her fists into his chest. She clawed at him and screamed louder and louder, but he grew angrier and picked her up, dragging her further into the alley. He threw her down, and her head made a loud thumping sound against an unidentified object, and she felt the blood beginning to flow. She touched the wound and she grew dizzy. Blood and tears stained her cheeks. She saw him come forward, and she knew she was going to die.