Between Strangers (4 page)

“I had a little money saved up from baby-sitting
jobs when Mike ran off,” she said quietly. “But it took every dime for the hospital bill and for Angie's baby doctor, and then to pay the lawyer who got me the divorce. Angie and I left our studio apartment where we'd been living right before the electric company cut off the lights.”

Yeah. It all sounded too melodramatic to her ears. But she couldn't help the awful truth. The only way she could make a difference was to change their future. And she had to make a new and better future for herself and Angie.

She just had to.

“I was at the end of the line,” she continued. “Trying to make enough by baby-sitting to keep food in our mouths. We were living out of that old car of mine when this fabulous job opportunity came up.”

Lance was staring with no expression on his face. She didn't know if she was getting through to him or not.

Baby Angie didn't seem to care much about her mother's story one way or the other. She spit out her binky, then squealed as she lifted her arms toward her mother. It didn't take long for her to begin bouncing in her high chair.

“Oh, Ange,” Marcy sighed.

“What does she want?” Lance asked. He was still trying to absorb everything Marcy had said. The two of them were really all alone in the world. Their circumstances were so far from what he'd always wanted in life that he couldn't quite get a grasp on how these two sweet females had gotten so messed up.

“Angie wants to get down,” Marcy replied. “She probably needs to crawl around a little to let off some steam. But I'm just too tired to…”

“I'll watch her for you,” he broke in. “While you clean up…or get your stuff repacked…or whatever. I think I can manage her for an hour or so.”

Whatever had possessed him to blurt that out? He didn't know the first thing about taking care of babies.

But Marcy looked too tired to be able to care for her daughter. And he'd suddenly wanted to give her a few free moments.

“Uh, what would I have to do, exactly?” he hedged.

Marcy turned a hopeful smile to him. “Give me a second to change her and you won't have much to do.” She unbuckled the baby from her high chair. “If you can find an out-of-the-way spot that's fairly clean, let her crawl around on the old army blanket. Just be sure she doesn't put anything into her mouth and that she doesn't stick her fingers into any electrical sockets, and you two should be fine.”

“I won't take my eyes off her for a second. You can count on me.”

Marcy stopped, stood stock-still and then turned to him with tears in her eyes. “I know we can trust you. And I can't thank you enough.”

 

An hour later Lance was so tired he couldn't see straight. Who would've thought that a little baby could be tougher to handle than a twelve-hundred-pound bull?

He'd chased. He'd said “no, no.” He'd picked her
up and put her down so many times his eyes were blurry.

And still Angie was bright-eyed and full of energy.

She lifted her arms to him once again and he smiled when he reached for her. “No wonder your mom was so exhausted,” he said as she collapsed into his lap.

The baby sat up straight on his knees as he took her hands to make sure she was okay. “Hold on to my fingers, Angie. That's a girl.”

She was watching him intently, and he took the minute of quiet to talk softly to the pretty little thing. “What do you see when you look at me, baby girl?” Angie didn't seem a bit frightened by what she saw. All the prejudice in the world hadn't gotten to her yet. She just looked at him with fascination and awe in her eyes.

Then she began to sway and he remembered he'd heard that babies might like to be bounced. “Horsey ride? Is that what you want?” He kept a tight grip on her while he jiggled her up and down. “Someday I'll teach you how to ride the real thing. Would you like that?”

Angie laughed and shrieked with delight. But Lance tired at last and slowed down. The baby frowned when he stopped. Then she did the most amazing thing.

She actually pulled herself up by leaning against his chest. Lance raised his hands to let her climb but kept his arms tight as she straightened her legs until she was truly standing upright.

“You actually stood up all by yourself, Angie,” he said with a grin. “Just wait until we tell your mom.”

He scooped her up in his arms and went off to find the baby's mother. Marcy should be ready for that cot by now, he figured. And if they were really lucky, Angie would be ready, too.

As he headed down the hall toward the employee locker room, he saw Marcy talking to one of the long-haul truckers. It was that big guy who'd been claiming he would have no trouble going West through the storm.

Lance didn't trust him any farther than he could throw him. At least, not with these two innocent females.

The decision clicked in his head as if a key had turned in its proper lock. He would be damned if they would ride with some strange trucker.

No, by heaven. They would go with him, and that's all there was to it. He wouldn't take no for an answer.

“W
hat is all this stuff? And why did you think we needed it?” Marcy couldn't help but shake her head as she glanced into the overstuffed rear compartment of Lance's SUV.

Since they'd left the truck stop behind a few hours ago, the dawn had been slowly turning the day from cold and shivery black to a slightly warmer shade of gray. She could clearly see that he'd managed to cram the back compartment from top to bottom with bags and boxes.

Last night he'd actually agreed to take her and the baby all the way to Cheyenne. Thrilled when he'd told her, she nearly hugged him with relief.

But then, as he'd stared at her with those intense ebony eyes, she'd reconsidered and thanked him profusely from a few feet away instead. Whenever they
touched, and even when they weren't touching, the sizzle between them unnerved her.

“Those are supplies we might be needing if we get stuck somewhere,” he told her. “I bought them at the truck stop's convenience store. Fresh water, blankets, snacks. It never hurts to be prepared.” He watched the slick road ahead and didn't turn as he spoke.

“Oh? Were you a Boy Scout?” Marcy sank back into the passenger seat and nearly groaned in pleasure. This SUV was luxury all the way. Compared to her old rattletrap, Lance's transportation seemed like a limo.

“Nope. As a child I was never in one place long enough to get the opportunity. But I spent my teen years on the rez learning the responsibilities and duties required of an adult male member of the Dine.” He kept on staring straight out through the windshield. “Most of that stuck with me.”

“The ‘Dine'?”

“That's the name the people of the Navajo Nation use when they refer to themselves.”

Lance fell silent, and she glanced into the back seat to check on Angie. The rumble of the SUV's big engine had lulled the baby to sleep.

Marcy ran her hand over the smooth surface of the tan leather seats and sighed. The snow had stopped falling hours ago and this back road they were traveling had been plowed quite recently. Everything would be fine.

She wondered if Lance would like some conversation for a while. He was probably rather tired from only managing a short nap last night, and perhaps he
needed companionship to help him remain alert. She wanted to do her part.

“You said you didn't stay in one place as a child,” she began tentatively. “I've always wanted to see the world. Travel. Can you tell me about where you lived while you were growing up?”

A few long seconds of silence had her wondering if he wouldn't rather that she keep her mouth shut and leave him alone to concentrate on his driving. But then he cleared his throat and began to speak in hushed tones. She guessed it was an attempt to keep from waking Angie.

“My father is a naval officer. Before I was born he graduated from Annapolis…and all the very special things that go along with that.” The sarcasm in his voice let her know what he thought of the occupation she'd always greatly admired. “After I was born, he was stationed in ten countries in eight years. My mother and I didn't go to all of them, but we did follow him to most of the places. Italy, Japan, Korea, Hawaii, the Philippines. It's all a blur now.”

“They sound great,” she told him. “I was raised in a backwater town in southern Illinois. I dreamed of seeing all those wonderful places. Of going anywhere, actually.”

He shook his head slowly and slanted her a glance out of the corner of his eye. “It was no dream for me. I always longed for a place to settle. For a big home that I would know so well it would become almost boring. And for a chance to get to know other kids long enough to be able to call them friends.”

“Sorry,” she squeaked in as small a voice as she
could manage. “I hadn't thought about it that way. What happened after you turned eight?”

“My mother died.”

Oh, man. Talk about stepping out of one mess and going right into a pile of dog do-do with the next step. When would she learn to keep her mouth shut?

“After we buried Mother, my father took me to his mother's home in New Orleans and dropped me there so he could proceed on with his career,” Lance continued. “And before you ask, no, I didn't get to be at home with my grandmother either. She had never been terribly thrilled with her son's choice for a wife and was appalled by my lack of schooling and knowledge of the social graces. I was barely alone with her for a couple of weeks before she sent me off to a series of boarding schools.”

Hmm. Didn't sound like the loving grandmother that Marcy had always wished she'd had. This poor guy hadn't had much of a family life at all.

She should've known better than to open her big mouth. But no…

She twisted under her seat belt to face him. “Then how did you get to a reservation from the boarding schools?” The question had been asked with a naive stupidity she would soon regret.

He blew out a breath, but went right into his explanation. “It took my mother's people a long time to hear of her death. She had only distant relatives left living on the Navajo reservation in northeast Arizona. When they learned she was gone and that my father had abandoned me to his mother, they made an appeal to the tribal authorities to have me returned to
my ancestors' homeland for instruction in the way of the clan.

“Seems they had both tribal and federal law on their side,” he continued with a sour look on his face. “It took them a few years, but at the age of thirteen I was sent to live in Arizona and learn the way of the Dine.”

“My goodness. You were sent there? It sounds like you went to a prison.”

The corners of his mouth curled up, and Marcy wasn't sure whether the movement was meant as a snarl or a smile. She wished back the words but knew it was too late.

“It was no worse than the boarding schools had been,” he confessed. “At least I knew they wanted me.”

“Oh. Well, that's good, right?”

Lance rolled his shoulders and she could see the tension in his muscles. “It was good that I learned Navajo culture. About how the land and the family are important and must be protected. I'm glad I know now about the ceremonies—and the Navajo view of life.

“And I never would've become an expert horseman if I hadn't gone there,” he went on. “Those lessons gave me the rodeo, and believe me, that was one of the best things that ever happened to me.”

The words ripped out of him, making Marcy think that what he hadn't said was more important. He hadn't said that he'd found the home he'd been yearning for, and she suddenly realized he'd said absolutely nothing about friendship or love.

In a flash of insight, she realized that he had never belonged anywhere. Not in his father's world of travel, books and manners. And not in his mother's world of land, ancient culture and ceremony.

Her heart ached for him, but she didn't know how to let him know what she felt. Marcy was sure it hadn't been sympathy he had wanted when he told her all this. Hoping with all her might that what he'd really wanted from her was friendship, she sat back in her seat and closed her eyes. She'd finally figured out that there were times when it would be best to just keep her mouth shut.

 

Lance fiddled with the radio, but all he was getting was static. That pretty much summed up the bulk of his life so far.

He slid a glance over his shoulder to check on Angie. Her woolly hat had slipped down over one eye as she snoozed peacefully in her car seat. His heart thumped at the sight of the precious little darlin'.

He'd recently come to the conclusion that children were a big part of what he wanted out of marriage and making a home. He wanted his own baby girl who would look up at him in awe the same way that Angie had done last night.

The powerful ache of wanting a home and family of his own suddenly became so overwhelming that he was forced to find something else to think about. He turned his head to check on Angie's mother, who'd fallen asleep in the front passenger seat.

But the pain of wanting most certainly did not dim
with a look in that direction. It just changed in intensity.

She looked all soft and warm…and sexy as hell. Her fine, blond hair was tousled and curled around her face. Her mouth was in a smug, sleepy little pout, with the rosy bottom lip puffed out. The picture she made was of a beautiful sleeping woman who'd been recently and thoroughly loved.

A flash of the same desire he'd felt when he'd told her that he'd take her and the baby to Cheyenne tugged at his gut and sent his mind spiraling down the wrong path. The expression on her face last night as he'd said his piece had quickly gone from hopeful to grateful, and finally settled into need. She'd wanted him as much as he'd wanted her. He was just sure they felt the same draw.

Almost. He'd almost leaned in for the kiss that would've been heaven—and totally inappropriate for the circumstances. He'd raised his hand to touch her face. Her eyes had widened and became the color of rich hot chocolate. He'd almost felt how soft her skin would be against his fingers if he drew them down the satin of her jawline. Almost.

But when the baby had fussed in his arms and someone had jostled against him in the truck stop hallway on their way to the locker room, he'd come out of the sensual haze with a jolt. That had not been the right place for such a move. And she was most definitely the wrong woman.

Well, not exactly the wrong woman. In fact, he believed she would've been perfectly right for what he'd had in mind. But she wasn't Lorna. She wasn't
the woman he'd decided he would be happy spending his life with.

Certainly he could keep his hands to himself and his brain from heading south long enough to get back home and ask Lorna to marry him. Couldn't he?

He rubbed at his chin and looked around the interior of the vehicle, realizing at once that the SUV had grown too warm and the inside of the windshield had fogged over. Someone must've been doing some heavy breathing.

He was starting to lose it. He needed to think.

Stretching his back muscles and surreptitiously rearranging his too-tight jeans in one smooth move, Lance tried to remember the responsibility lessons he'd learned from the Dine.

The Four Directions. That's it. He would review the Four Directions of life in his mind.

East was the direction of dawn. It would be as good a place to start as any since it was just past dawn now. And East was the thinking direction. Thinking was something he'd better start doing real soon.

Let's see…how did the lesson go? A Navajo should think first before he takes a step. Consider each move carefully.

Yes, that was what he had done when he'd decided to marry Lorna. He'd made the decision that they had a lot in common and would be good mates. He was rather proud of himself for coming to such a sensible conclusion.

Marcy moaned softly in her sleep and restlessly changed her position under the seat belt. The sight and sound of her all of a sudden sent his brain back
down under his own belt. Shoot. There went thinking for the time being.

With his mind off in places where it shouldn't be, Lance didn't see the gaping pothole in the road until it was too late to keep from hitting it with the right front tire. The vehicle dipped violently and a thunking sound rattled noisily through the SUV. Hell.

Marcy stirred and opened her eyes. “What…?”

The baby in the back seat came awake in a flash of fury and fright. In seconds her screams built to nerve-racking.

“It was just a pothole,” Lance told Marcy over the din.

“You'd better stop so I can check on Angie and try to calm her down.”

It would probably be smart for him to stop and check the tire, anyway. He pulled off the road as far as he dared without getting stuck in a snowdrift. They were traveling on a lonely stretch, alongside some rancher's desolate range land. He'd already noted the barbwire fencing and had been watching the fierce, high-plains wind pile swirling snow deeply up against every post.

He left the SUV running, with the heated exhaust streaming backward in a frosty haze, but he remembered to pull on the parking brake. Expecting Marcy to climb over the console and between the seats like she did the last time, Lance ignored her, hunched down in his coat and stepped around the hood to check on his front tire.

The tire looked fine. He kicked it once for good measure, then reached down to run his gloved hand
along the tread. These were the extra heavy-duty radials and he was fairly sure they should hold up to a few bumps and jolts.

Behind him, he heard a door open and shut. By the time he turned to see what was going on, Marcy was out of the SUV and fighting the wind, trying to pull open the rear compartment door.

He stepped behind the vehicle and stood between her and the blasting bark of frigid air. “What do you need in there?” he asked, yelling over the wind gusts toward the back of her head. “I thought you could reach what you wanted from the back seat.”

Lifting the tailgate above him, Lance loomed over her body as he tried to block the worst of the wind. He stepped closer and was surprised to feel her warmth clear through both their layers of clothing. Even with the wind roaring at his back and in her direction, he was close enough to catch a whiff of sunshine and talcum.

It was Marcy's special scent, he knew it immediately. Her hair just looked like it would smell of sunshine, and the other scent had to be somehow baby-related. Nice, he thought. Homey.

But his body was reacting to the smell in an entirely different manner than his mind. Nice and homey, hell. Horny was more like it. He gritted his teeth and stepped back as far as he dared without having the wind whip through the SUV and possibly knocking Marcy to the asphalt.

She bent to dig through the mass of boxes and duffel bags stacked in the back. “You shoved all these
new sacks in on top of the old. I can't find the baby's bag.”