Speak to the Wind (12 page)

"Surely you're hungry now." His statement sounded more like a question.

"I'm starved! Nothing like a walk on the beach to whet an appetite."

"Great. Meet me in thirty, then."

She nodded. "That'll barely give me time to shower and call my office."

"Okay, make it forty-five. I probably should do the same. Be careful, though," he warned.

"Why?"

"Don't sound like you're having too much fun.
They’ll find a reason to put you to work.
"

"I wouldn't
let
that
happen
." She grinned over her shoulder. "This is, after all, a business trip."

Joe watched her disappear and trudged slowly across the sand to his casita. Maria filled his mind, tantalized his thoughts and dominated his fantasies. She had many sides,
both business and pleasure
. Maybe there was a way to inte
grate a relationship so that
it included both and wasn't un
fair to either of them. That's what he'd work on, anyway.

During her shower Maria's sense of obligation returned full force. She met Joe dressed in khaki slacks and a tailored blouse with
beige
and white stripes.

He wore navy walking shorts, a powder-blue shirt with white piping and
huaraches
. She swallowed a comment on the tip of her tongue about
how great he looked and kept re
minding herself this was a business breakfast.

"What's this?" He indicated the flat leather briefcase tucked under her arm.

"I thought we could get started during breakfast."

"Good idea." They wa
lked along silently, and he won
dered how much actual work they could accomplish over eggs and coffee. But she wa
s in charge here, and he was im
pressed with her. And usually surprised.

In the restaurant he followed her past hanging baskets filled with tiny purple-tinged orchids to a patio table overlooking the Sea of Cortez. Between the
fresh fruit cup and main en
tree, she opened the folder devoted to Joe and got out her pen.

"Okay. This is just preliminary, Joe. Sometimes it helps me to learn a little about you before we start goal setting." She looked down at her notebook. "In some respects, I feel as though we've known each other for ages. Yet I don't even know what your business is, Joe."

"Engineering. About as removed from politics as can be."

"Have you ever held a p
ublic office? Councilman or com
mittee chairman?"

"Not even PTA president."

She made a note. "Hmm, not much experience."

"Not in the public arena. You have your work cut out for you, lady."

"That's okay. I expected
a challenge." She moved her pa
pers to make room for a plate
of h
uevos
chorizos
, eggs scram
bled with spicy
Mexican
sausage. "That's what I'm here for."

"Now seems to be a good time to tell you that I've never made a public speech to more than
twenty-five
people. And they worked for me, so they didn't dare laugh. Or question me." He paused to take a bite of eggs. "I've never stood on a podium and looked out over a sea of strange faces, except to receive a football trophy and mumble something stupid."

"Does the idea that now you'll have to make many public speeches like that scare you?" She glanced up, pen poised.

"Speechless."

She rolled her eyes at his pun and paused to start on her eggs. "Maybe it'll help you t
o know that most people are pet
rified at the thought of speaki
ng to a crowd. It's the number
one fear in the business world. But then, some people are hams and get a charge out of being the center of attention. It's important for me to know which
your category is
so we can go from there."

"The former, definitely."

She made note. "Hmm."

"Can you help me, doctor?"

"I'll try."

"Can you do something about my sweaty palms
?
And those butterflies in the pit of my stomach that make me feel as though I'm going to toss my cookies? And the rubber legs that make me walk like I've had too much hooch
?
"

She laughed. "
That’s what
most people
say. It’s due to a high degree of
anxiety
. But we’ll get you over that in no time
."

"Oh." He groaned and dropped his forehead to his hand. "You've seen through my act."

"You're just typical, Joe."

"
Hey, I don’t want to be typical.
I want to rise above the ordinary. Your brochure promised."

"That's something you'll have to do when I'm finished." She gave him a secure smile. "But
I've no doubts about your abil
ity."

"I'm curious about how you expect to cure this anxiety disease." He buttered a corn tortilla and rolled it into a finger shape before taking a bite of it.

"I may not be able to cure you completely, but that isn't necessary. Sometimes nervous energy can be channeled and put to good use when addressing a crowd. My aim is to give you sufficient techniques
and skills to boost your self-
confidence so that you're assured you can handle whatever might occur."

He smiled devilishly across the table at her. "Come on, now, what's your secret? Do you go along to hold your client's hand for the first speech? Or put cucumber compresses on their brows and chant a few magic phrases?"

"Obviously you've thought of some cures that I haven't. My job is to prepare you to go out on your own by teaching you a few tricks that may work."

“
Tricks, huh?"

She made a note, then proceeded, taking an occasional bite of her breakfast. Learning about Joe was far more interesting at the moment than food. "What about the news media? Have you ever been interviewed by a reporter or been on the radio or TV?"

"
Nope." He snapped his fingers. “
Take that back. In my youth I was on TV weekly. But all I had to do was stand there looking like a young brute in my college football uniform and tell how I tucked the ball and zigged this way or zagged that way until I crossed the goal line. It was fun because I was still
high—" he stopped and
grinned at her "—high on adrena
line after the game, of course."

"That's what I'm talking abo
ut. You'll learn to put that ex
tra flow of adrenaline to work for you." She couldn't help thinking he must have been a handsome young brute in his college football uniform. "Never done anything more, ah, serious?"

“I
’
ve never had to answer to anyone outside the company about my business decisions. Never explained my logic to a camera—not that I'll have to in the future, but..." He shrugged.

"But you might. Given today's media interest in
Native
Americans, you probably will at some point. Count on it." She gave him a steady look. "And you will have to realize that you can't be too sensitive about your heritage. Most of the media won't be
Native
Americans, nor will they be as, uh, responsive to your reactions as I. You never know what they'll ask."

He raised one eyebrow. "You think I'm too sensitive?"

"That's a matter of judgment, and not mine to make. It's yours. You'll have to decide if
you're going to be the chip-on-
the-shoulder Indian leader or—"

"Or?"

She took a deep breath. This was shaky ground, and she hoped she wouldn't foul it up again. "Or
one of a new type who is broad
minded and progressive as well as loyal to his people."

"I always took pride that I was that kind of man." He shoved his plate away and propped his elbows on the table. His expression had grown serious. "I guess when confronted with my heritage, I become a little defensive. Maybe a lot defensive. But I won't sidestep my stand. I am Apache." He tapped his own chest. "We call ourselves Indee, which means
'the people.' And everything I do will be in the best int
erest of 'the people’
the Apache, my people."

"That's the way it should be, Joe. I have no intention of changing your philosophy or your stance.
Nor will I tell you what to say or prepare speeches for you.
But you need to have clearly in mind exactly how you want to represent your people. The reason is so that you don't let the media distort any of your stand. You need to remain in charge at all times."

"Somehow this sounds like a battle between them and me."

"No, it's more of a competition for who comes out on top, or who gets the best story. Your job is to give them a story, the story you want them
to have. Now, I know how the me
dia will dig, the kinds of probing and insensitive questions they'll ask. My teaching strategy is to play devil's advocate so you can practice with me how you'll respond." She leaned forward earnestly. "But please believe, Joe, I'm not against you. I'm on your side."

"Fair enough." He motioned for coffee refills and sipped thoughtfully as he watched her finish her meal. Maybe Maria was on his side and would b
e more understanding of his ded
ication than anyone else could be. And what about fairness?

She certainly sounded as though she knew exactly where he was coming from and w
hat to do about it. She under
stood him, and that was ex
tremely important to Joe. It oc
curred to him that perhaps it wouldn't be fair for either of them to resist the attraction they both felt. That could be something very good for both of them, too.

Two hours later
they sa
t in the middle of her living
room floor, a cluster of empty luggage around them and various machines and equipment and books and notebooks piled on the tables.

Maria smiled at Joe. "Thanks for the help. It was quite a job to drag all this stuff along."

"Did you pack it all yourself
?
"

"That part was easy. I had help from my office staff, and we did it over several da
ys." This morning she'd seen an
other side of Joe, different from the serious, brooding man running for chairman of the Apache. This Joe was warm, had a sense of humor, and an
occasional smile that was devas
tating. And he was honest enough to admit his insecurities. She liked that in a man.

She opened them each a soft drink, then curled up on the sofa, Joe's open folder in her lap. "Ready to start on goals
?
"

He sat cross
legged on the floor and leaned his back against the chair opposite her. "As good a time as any."

"I've filled out a fact profile on you that will include my evaluation. We'll go over that later."

"Your evaluation? Mm-hmm—can't wait for that."

"My professional evaluation. The goals we set today will be what you want to achieve in this course. I like my clients to tell me what they want to accomplish, or what they think they want. We'll discuss the options and how I can help, what I can and can't do. We'll also compare yours with mine. Then as the program proceeds, we can reevaluate and set different goals at any time."

"Okay, my goals." He glanced up and motioned at her notebook. "How much paper have you got there? I have a list of goals as long as my leg."

"Just give me a few of the main ones, as they might refer to this course."

“
This sounds hokey, but I want to be the best I can be," he said tightly.

"Joe, I don't consider anything you say hokey."

He studied her for a mo
ment, nodded gratefully and con
tinued. "I'm not trying to achieve perfection, but I think I have a lot to offer. I want the best of that. I also want to make
my people proud of me. Now this has nothing to do with pride or arrogance, which is not the Indian way. I'm talking about being a man my people will admire, sort of like the way we try to please our fathers and make them proud. Do you understand what I'm trying to say, Maria?"

"I think so. You want to be their champion."

"Yeah, that's a good word. Champion." He propped one leg up at an angle and h
ooked an arm around his knee. “
I
want to do so many things
for my people it's probably un
realistic to think I can do it all. But I'd like to try."

"What are some of the most important things?"

He looked up at Maria for a moment. Rubbing his jaw with one hand, he studied the blond woman who concentrated on her note making. She looked and sounded sincere, and he knew that at some point, co
nsidering his overwhelming feel
ings toward her, he'd have to trust her. The time might as well be now.