Page 32 of Comanche Magic

  "Franny," he managed to say in a warm, welcoming way. "You're looking good."

  Those big green eyes of hers clung to his. Chase glanced away, knowing he'd do something stupid if he didn't. Like snatch her up and spirit her away. There was too much of his father in him, he guessed.

  "You're looking good, too," she replied in a tremu­lous voice. "I’m glad to see you, Chase. So glad." She seemed to grope for words. "I . . . um . . . started to write but I kept tearing up the letters. Some things just can't be said on paper."

  In other words, she preferred to break his heart in person. Chase steeled himself and met her gaze head- on. "Frankie wrote regularly."

  Two bright spots of color flagged her cheeks. "Yes, well, it was inexcusable that I didn't. I know it's been a very long while." Her voice wobbled and she compressed her lips for a moment. Then, killing him heartbeat by heartbeat with those imploring eyes of hers, she said, "Please tell me you're not angry."

  "Of course I'm not. I understand you've been through a difficult time, Franny."

  "Then why—" She swallowed and averted her gaze for an instant. Looking back at him, she said, "Then why are you being so cool toward me?"

  Cool toward her? He felt anything but. "I'm sorry. I guess seeing you took me by surprise." He forced him­ self to grin. "Say . . . While all of you are in town, you should have Frankie get your things. I bet you're miss­ing that Wheeler-Wilson something fierce."

  She gazed up at him for a long moment. "Yes, some­thing fierce. That, among other things."

  "We'll be around the place all day. Ma's throwing a shindig to celebrate."

  "I know. She sent us an invitation."

  That was news to Chase. He curled his hands into fists, wishing they were around his mother's little neck. "Oh, she did? Well, great. I'll look forward to seeing all of you there." That was the biggest lie he'd ever told. He not only didn't look forward to such torture, but was determined not to put himself through it. He'd spend the day along the creek somewhere and spare himself that dubious pleasure. He extended his hand to her. "Until then?"

  She scarcely touched her fingertips to his. "Yes, until then."

  Blindly, Chase turned away. He didn't bother to wait for his family, and he didn't head toward home. Instead, he took a page out of Franny's book and slipped away to a special place where the world wouldn't follow him.

  "What do you mean, you aren't attending the recep­tion?" Frankie demanded to know. "Why on earth not, Francine? What'll Chase think?"

  Stubbornly clinging to the seat of their wagon, Franny gazed straight down Main, refusing to look at her brother. "I'm simply not going, that's all."

  "But Ma and the kids already went! What're you gonna do, sit here and draw dust until they come back?"

  "Yes."

  Frankie groaned and climbed up to sit beside her. "Francine, you aren't making good sense. You've been nervous as a cat waiting for this day. You made a pretty new dress. Now you're planning to go home with us?" He leaned around to see her face. "Excuse me, but there's one minor detail you're forgetting. What'll your husband have to say about that?"

  Franny gnawed on the inside of her lip. "Nothing. He suggested you stop by their place to get my things, as a matter of fact."

  "He what?"

  "You heard me."

  Frankie sighed. "Then there's a misunderstanding."

  "Indeed, and on my part." Franny blinked to keep her eyes dry. "He doesn't want me anymore, Frankie."

  "Oh, for pity's sake." Her brother shoved the heel of his boot against the footrest. "That's the silliest thing I've ever heard. He loves you like crazy."

  "He certainly didn't act it."

  "Then it's up to you to talk to him and get things straightened out."

  "He'll think I'm clinging." She turned stricken eyes on her brother. "Frankie, look at it from his side. Everyone in this town knows about me. I can deal with that now. Truly, I can. But a man—well, to have peo­ple whispering about his wife? Chase is a good person, and I'll be forever grateful for all he's done for me, but I won't push myself on him. He was polite when he greeted me."

  "That's significant?"

  "Chase isn't the polite type."

  Frankie rubbed his hands over his pant legs. "Francine, he loves you. I know he does. And if you don't go talk to him, you're always going to regret it. But I guess that's your decision to make."

  He climbed down from the wagon.

  "Where are you going?" she demanded.

  "I'm leaving you to your foolishness," Frankie huffed. "If you want to throw away something as wonderful as what you and Chase could have, just because you're scared to go talk to him, then do it. But don't expect me to sit here and show support while you ruin your life."

  "Scared? I am not scared. I'm trying to be fair to him."

  "Right," Frankie scoffed. "The truth is you're afraid he'll send you away, that he'll confirm your worst fear and tell you he doesn't really love you."

  Franny closed her eyes. "I couldn't bear it if he did."

  Frankie sighed. "Yeah, you could. That's not to say it'll happen, but if it did, you could bear it. You have a lot of people who love you and will be there if things go wrong."

  With that, her brother walked away.

  It took all Franny's courage to enter the Wolfs' back­yard. Loretta greeted her warmly. Hunter gave her a hug. Indigo seemed elated to see her. Franny glanced ner­vously around, refusing offers of food and refreshment. She spotted Frankie, who gave her an encouraging wink.

  Turning back to Loretta, Franny said, "I don't see Chase. Have you any idea where he is?"

  Her mother-in-law's face fell. "No, dear. He disap­peared after the ceremony, and I haven't an inkling where he got off to."

  Aching, Franny pasted on a smile. She congratulat­ed May Belle and Shorty on their nuptials. When Indi­go brought her a plate heaped with food, she pretend­ed to eat. All the while, her stomach was twisting and she felt as though her legs weighed a hundred pounds each. Feeling horribly conspicuous, she milled through the crowd toward her family. She had nearly reached them when a large, heavy hand curled over her shoul­der. She glanced up into Hunter Wolf's dark face.

  "Follow your heart," he said softly, "and you may find him."

  Saying nothing more, he turned away.

  Dream places. Memories. Cool autumn sunlight where once he had danced under summer gold with an angel in his arms.

  Chase sat on the creek bank, his arms resting loosely on his upraised knees, his gaze fixed on the rushing water. He willed the current to carry away his pain. On the crisp air floated the scent of woodsmoke, a sign that winter was nearly upon them. He wondered how many other winters would come and go before he began to forget.

  Franny . . . The pain inside his chest was so acute it nearly took his breath.

  In a rush of wind, autumn leaves were caught from their branches and flung in a dizzying spiral around him, a kaleidoscope of earthen colors, burgundy, orange, brown, and gold. The chill that caressed his cheeks also touched his heart.

  Franny, his green-eyed angel. Though he had searched for them, he had seen no shadows in her gaze when they spoke. The time she had spent with her family had healed her, just as he had hoped. But it had left him bleeding.

  "Chase?"

  For an instant he thought he imagined her voice. Then he turned to see her standing several feet from him, fragile and fair, her green eyes like a promise of spring in a splendor of russet. Startled, he sprang to his feet.

  "Franny," he said nonsensically. "I didn't expect to see you here."

  She glanced slowly around them, her gaze lingering on those spots where they'd made love the previous summer. A slight smile touched her mouth. "Where else would you expect to see me, Chase, if not here in our special place?"

  Not daring to let himself hope, Chase averted his gaze. "If you sought me out to ask about a divorce, that'll have to be your doing. I don't believe in them. But I won't contest it."

  She hugged h
er waist and shivered. "I see."

  "I won't sign any papers," he added. "So don't ask. It's against my beliefs, both Comanche and Catholic. I don't want to be difficult, understand."

  "Please, Chase, be difficult."

  "What?"

  She came a step closer. "Be difficult. Yell at me if you like. Tell me I'm thoughtless and selfish, that you'll never forgive me for staying away for over two months without writing to you to explain. You can even hate me a little. But when you're all finished, be difficult. Don't try to send me away."

  "Send you away?"

  She raised her chin a notch. Her eyes shimmered with tears as she met his gaze. "I love you," she said simply.

  "You love me." Chase bit down hard on his back teeth. "Two months your brother wrote to me, and he never once mentioned your coming home. What the hell was I supposed to think?"

  "I'm sorry if I hurt you."

  "Is that why you're here? Because you realized you'd hurt me?"

  She studied his face for a long moment. "No. I'm here because Frankie said I'd be sorry if I didn't risk it."

  "Risk what?"

  "Risk your saying you don't love me anymore."

  "I've been waiting here for two endless months, and you thought I didn't love you anymore? Jesus Christ! I'll never understand you, you know that?"

  "Do you really need to?"

  "It'd be a leg up on complete befuddlement."

  "I wasn't sure that—" She broke off and com­pressed her lips. "Do you love me, or not?"

  "Don't ask damned fool questions."

  "Would you just give me a damned fool answer?"

  "Yes."

  "Yes? Is that all you can say?"

  "I love you," he ground out.

  Using the scuffed toe of her shoe, she made a line in the dirt. Her eyes dancing with mischief, she held out her hand to him. "Then step over here, Chase Wolf. Stop being mad at me for things that happened yesterday."

  He narrowed an eye at her. "You're pushing your luck, you know."

  "It's your belief. A Comanche one. Like a dutiful wife, I've adopted it."

  "Conveniently, I'd say."

  "Ah, but it's such a beautiful concept. The moment's past, correct? Forever lost to us. You shouldn't waste a second of today worrying about what's already behind us." She wiggled her fingertips. "Come on. Let's make a special place, Chase, a dream place just for us and our baby. I want to make every second of today count. It's all any of us have, you know. Just this moment and hope for the future."

  It was an invitation Chase had never expected and, despite the fact that he was still tempted to wring her neck, it was also one he couldn't refuse. "You're saying all the right words," he whispered, "but do you truly feel them? Are all your yesterdays behind you, Franny?"

  "Completely. It was your gift to me, Chase. All wrapped up in magic. Today and all my tomorrows. I'm making a fresh start. Won't you share it with me?"

  Instead of taking her hand, he launched himself at her, lifted her into his arms, and spun in a dizzying circle with her clasped to his chest. She gave a startled laugh, and the sound warmed him clear through.

  Franny, his green-eyed angel. As agonizing as the two months had been, she was worth the wait. He felt as though he were holding heaven in his arms.

  "I love you," he whispered fiercely. "I love you so much."

  "And I love you."

  Though Chase knew it was fanciful, it seemed to him the wintery sun brightened momentarily, and he couldn't help but wonder if the Great Ones weren't smiling. All his life, he'd heard his father's song. The words whis­pered through his mind now, and he realized the last part of the song, the most beautiful part, had finally come to pass.

  In a swirl of autumn leaves, a man, a woman, and an unborn child spun in an endless circle, their union the final fulfillment of a prophecy older than the ages, that the Comanche and his golden-haired maiden would find a special place where they might live in harmony and give birth to a new nation where the songs of the People would be sung forever.

  Epilogue

  Dressed all in white, the symbol of purity, Franny stood at the back of the church, her trembling hand resting in the bend of Frankie's arm. The organ music began, softly at first, then increasing in volume until the air vibrated. Frankie stepped forward to begin their march down the aisle. She moved beside him, feeling as though she were floating.

  In addition to a crowd of well-wishers whose num­ber exceeded her wildest fantasies, Franny saw the beaming faces of those in her family on one side of the church. On the other she saw the faces of people she had come to love only recently. The newlyweds, Shorty and May Belle, Indigo and her tall, handsome husband Jake, their two children.

  In the next row stood Swift Lopez, a lean, dark- haired, dangerous-looking man with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that warmed to a lambent gleam every time he glanced at his lovely wife, Amy. In con­trast to her delicate blondness, two dark-haired, black- eyed little boys stood beside her, one holding her skirts, the other her hand.

  Tears stung Franny's eyes when she saw her mother- in-law, Loretta. She managed to blink the moisture away. But only for a moment. When her gaze shifted to Hunter Wolf, who loomed beside his wife, Franny couldn't control the tide of emotion that welled within her. Dressed in buckskins, as always, he looked pure Comanche and fiercely proud of the infant grandson he held in his strong arms. Though Franny searched, she could detect nothing in his expression to hint that the baby wasn't of his blood.

  Her baby, Chase's son, Chase Wolf, Junior.

  Scarcely able to see through her tears, Franny moved past her parents-in-law and fixed her gaze on the tall, dark-haired man who awaited her at the altar with an outstretched hand. Trembling, she closed the distance and took her place beside him. Together they turned to face the priest, Father O'Grady, who smiled warmly and blessed them by making a sign of the cross above their heads.

  Sunlight arced through the stained glass of a win­dow. A hush fell over the church. Franny felt warmth flow over her, and through her tears she saw a halo of golden and rose-colored light surrounding her.

  She knew it was foolish. Absolutely fanciful. But she couldn't help wondering if that mystical light wasn't a sign from above, God's special benediction. She closed her eyes and let the warmth of it fill her, completely at peace with what she once was and who she had become.

  Sometimes, she realized, God did still make mira­cles, even for the least of his children. Her miracle stood beside her, a stubborn, infuriating, insistent, absolutely wonderful man named Chase Kelly Wolf who had given her the sweetest gift a man could give a woman, love of herself.

 

 

  Catherine Anderson, Comanche Magic

 

 

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