A Rainbow in Paradise Read online

  A RAINBOW IN PARADISE

  Book Five

  In the Rainbow Rock Series

  SUSAN AYLWORTH

  Copyright 1999 by Susan Aylworth

  Originally published in hardback by Avalon Books.

  Smashwords Edition

  Following the story, you will find discussion questions for book clubs and reading groups plus an excerpt from The Trouble with Rainbows, Book Six in the Rainbow Rock series.

  For John and Amy,

  Emma and Vaughn;

  For Paul and Carly,

  Adelaide and Sadie;

  And always, for Roger

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Discussion Questions

  Preview of Book Six

  Chapter One

  Eden plucked a tissue from the box on the corner dressing table and delicately blotted her forehead, hoping her makeup wasn't running. She glanced at the kitchen clock and took a deep breath. It was not yet 10:00, and already the July sun was turning the high desert into an oven.

  Outside, people milled about in the shade of the dooryard sycamores, chatting and laughing while a piano and viola tuned in discordant harmony. Most of the citizens of Rainbow Rock, Arizona—not to mention three generations of McAllisters—were here today, creating a scene of happy chaos. "Almost ready?" someone called from the front room.

  Eden opened the door to the master bedroom and looked to her lifelong friend. "Almost ready?" she asked, and Sarah happily nodded. Eden turned back out, passing the nod to Alexa McAllister, who waited at the door.

  Alexa said, "Places everyone," and the din diminished.

  Moments later, the music began, Pachelbel's "Canon in D." The crowd in the front yard stilled, taking their seats, and the summer air filled with magic.

  Eden entered the bedroom where Sarah was still dressing. "Sure you're ready for this?" she asked.

  "Positive." Sarah nodded. "I've never been so happy."

  "I'm glad. You deserve it." Eden blinked back tears as she went to her dearest friend, clasping her in a warm hug. Certainly she had never seen Sarah look happier, or lovelier. The ivory satin of her simple gown made her warm complexion glow and the wreath of yellow rosebuds and baby's breath gave her the look of a red-haired Celtic queen.

  "Check my sash before you go?" Sarah asked.

  "Sure. Turn around." The sash was the one concession Sarah had made to lavishness. Its deep lavender blue matched the moiré taffeta of Eden's gown. "You're perfect," Eden said as she fluffed the bow.

  "Then you'd better get started," Sarah said with a twinkle. "I've got a bridegroom waiting."

  "Lucky you!" she said, and then she raised a hand in a gentle salute. "True blue," she said.

  "Through and through," Sarah answered, raising her own hand in answer as both women completed the high five and blinked back tears. Their childhood pledge of friendship had never held more meaning than it did for both of them now.

  Eden sniffled, flashed another smile at the bride, picked up her bouquet and hurried into the living room. There she paused just long enough to give Wiley Richards, Sarah's father, a fond kiss on the cheek.

  "Hey!" Wiley said, grinning warmly and grabbing for her hand, but she winked at him and moved on. As she reached the doorway, the musical cue changed, a bit of a Mozart concerto. The groom's party, including the minister, would be stepping up onto the porch from the other end about now, she knew. Then the music changed again, the "Wedding March," and Eden began her sedate procession onto the front porch of the McAllister family home, the home that would now be Sarah's.

  Just before she stepped outside, she was struck by an odd sensation, a sense almost of... She hunted for a word, but couldn't think of anything that described her feeling. It was almost as if this happy change in Sarah's life signaled an important change for herself as well. But how can that be? she asked herself. Then, chalking it up to borrowed bridal jitters, she stepped out the front door.

  * * * * *

  "Here they come," the bridegroom whispered, his voice ripe with anticipation, and Logan turned toward the door. He fidgeted uneasily in the heat, adjusting his tie and patting once again the coat pocket that held the rings. He'd attended enough of these shindigs to know how things were supposed to go from here, but he still felt uncomfortable in his new role. He'd never been a member of the wedding before. He wouldn't have been in this one for anybody but Chris McAllister. Chris was the first belagaana, the first non-Navajo, he had ever called friend, and the only one to whom he owed this kind of loyalty. He looked up, expecting to see Chris's bride.

  But the woman who came through the door wasn't the pretty, red-haired veterinarian Chris was marrying. This woman was a fantasy, a raven-haired confection in lavender blue. Logan started with a shock of...

  Recognition? How can that be? He didn't know this woman. Oh, he'd glimpsed her before, during rough introductions when Chris's sister- in-law had brought her in from the airport a couple of hours earlier, but he hadn't really seen her even then. He saw her now. He hardly saw anything else.

  She floated toward him, the lavender taffeta drifting about her like soft blue-violet clouds around the sun. Hair as black as a moonless night tumbled down her back in rich profusion. He was Navajo, so he’d seen plenty of black hair, but he'd never seen hair so black on a woman so fair. She looked up at him just then and beamed a welcoming smile.

  Blue. As blue as the desert sky in midsummer, as blue as the treasured turquoise. He'd never seen eyes so blue, especially not smiling at him. He shivered. It was the Fourth of July and hot enough to bake cookies on the floorboards, but he shivered when she looked at him. Then, as she neared, he caught her scent—warm and rich, earthy and achingly familiar. Logan swallowed hard and tried not to stare as she walked up beside him and stopped, almost close enough to touch. He longed to reach out just to touch her. Instead, he managed a stiff smile, swallowed again, and forced his eyes back to the doorway.

  * * * * *

  Eden trembled despite the summer heat. Who's that? she asked herself, barely able to avoid staring at the man next to Sarah's tall, blond cowboy. She tried to remember what Sarah had told her about the best man.

  Best man. Talk about a perfect title! With the possible exception of the groom and his two handsome brothers, there wasn't a man in all of Rainbow Rock that fit the description better. She tried to think whether she knew one in Phoenix, or for that matter, whether she'd ever met anyone who better filled her qualifications for a "best man."

  He was tall, better than six feet, and powerfully built. His hair was thick and black, fashionably short but long enough to show a hint of a wave over his broad, high forehead, and his eyes were nearly as black as his hair. Prominent cheekbones, a chiseled profile, and a deeply burnished tone to his complexion testified to his native ancestry. Then she remembered. Sarah had often spoken of a man called Logan Redhorse, an attorney for the Navajo nation who was Chris's best friend. She had extolled the man's stellar qualities, but without the faintest hint that he was designed to be a cover model. Either Sarah had been too love-struck with Chris to notice another man, or she was clearly holding out. This guy was gorgeous!

  Eden risked another glance and found Logan watching her, flushed warm with embarrassment at being caught staring, then saw him smile in response. Whoa! Can he smile! She saw so much warmth and promise in that smile, almost as if... Her breath caught in her throat. She blinked her eyes, looking away to break the spell, then tremble
d again, wondering if her knees would hold out through the entire ceremony. Yet even when she looked at him again, she still had the odd sensation that somehow, she knew this man.

  Or will know him? Her knees started to give way, and Reverend Phelps caught her elbow. "Are you all right?" he whispered.

  Eden forced a smile, nodding at him as she steadied herself. "It's the heat," she whispered. The audience stood, and Eden turned her eyes toward the door where Sarah was entering on her father's arm, her heart still in her throat. Sternly, she reminded herself to remember the moment. She was here for Sarah's wedding, after all, not for...

  Again she tried to identify the odd sensation that floated about her, almost as if it had come to sweep her away. There wasn't a term for it—not one she was ready to accept, anyway—yet the word destiny echoed in her head as she watched Sarah prepare to take her vows.

  * * * * *

  "May I have the rings?" the minister asked as planned, and Logan managed to deliver them both without fumbling or dropping anything. That surprised him. He'd been so busy trying not to stare at the woman beside Sarah, or drown in her sweet fragrance, that he'd almost lost track of where they were in the ceremony.

  Somewhere in the background, the minister's voice was talking about the symbolism of a circle that has no beginning and no end. Logan knew circles. The People knew circles. Even their traditional homes were built in the pattern of the circle, finding harmony in the shape of the natural world. One day his people would build a ceremonial hogan for him and then there'd be another wedding, a different kind of wedding, an 'iigeh.

  With a start, he realized that the time must be coming soon. He was older than his belagaana friend, almost twenty-nine now. His father's friends from various clans had almost given up on introducing their eligible daughters and nieces. Perhaps it was time he gave the matter some thought. He had always known how he would be married—in a new hogan with loomed rugs beneath his feet and a holy man of the People to offer him the sacred blue corn- meal and sprinkle precious pollen over him and his bride. All he didn't know was when—or who. He had often pictured her, a woman with a tangle of midnight black hair—

  He broke the thought, staring wide-eyed at the woman on the other side of the bridal couple. She was incomparably lovely and the black hair fit his image, but she was belagaana—other, alien, not of the People. And yet she looked so... He paused, trying to identify the odd sensation that had been coursing through him since she had appeared, a vision in lavender blue. And then the word occurred to him. She looked right, so right.

  Right? A belagaana woman? He was getting his signals crossed somewhere. He reined in his wayward thoughts long enough to watch as Chris presented a ring to his new bride.

  * * * * *

  Eden felt a small stab of envy as Chris removed Sarah's custom-made circlet of diamonds and amethysts, slipped on the band that marked their mutual commitment, and replaced the engagement ring. Older than Sarah, Eden would be thirty in October. Here she was, watching Sarah take her second husband, while Eden herself had never married.

  She paused just long enough to wonder why not. It was a familiar thought, one she had considered often lately. She'd had boyfriends, of course, even some who wanted to pursue the relationship, but she'd never known anyone who inspired her enough to make her want to take that long trip down the aisle, the one Sarah was making today. When well-meaning friends asked why she hadn't married, she usually answered with a quip about how tough it was to find good help these days.

  With a twinge of guilt, she remembered one potential husband, a man she had really come to care about, who had accused her of deliberately distancing him. When he'd said it, she had known he was right, and she'd pondered that thought long enough to recognize that her own parents' rather odd relationship had made her leery of commitments. Then there was Sarah's first marriage—

  She stopped that thought, unwilling to dwell on anything sad, not on this lovely day when Sarah was finally finding the happiness she deserved.

  But if Sarah can find happiness, why can't I? That odd sensation was back, striking at the pit of her stomach with a force so powerful, it almost knocked the wind out of her. She found her gaze turning slowly, inexorably, back to Logan. Can he be—?

  No, of course not. The wedding bell blues must be getting to me, she told herself firmly, unable to stop herself from glancing his way again. He was looking at her, too, and the expression on his face suggested... But no. It was silly enough to have these ideas in the first place without persuading herself that he felt the same things. Still, there was something about the way he looked at her....

  You're acting like a giddy schoolgirl, Eden chided herself. She sighed and turned back to the wedding.

  "Who's the dark belagaana?” Logan asked Chris, careful to keep his voice low, as they stood side by side in the receiving line.

  "You mean the great-looking brunette?" Chris whispered, then, "Good evening, Mrs. Lawrence. Thanks for coming."

  Logan nodded politely to three more guests, then murmured, "She's Sarah's friend, isn't she? The one she always talks about?"

  "Eden," Chris supplied helpfully. "Eden Grant, from Phoenix. She and Sarah used to room together."

  "Eden," he whispered thoughtfully. Even her name speaks of paradise. Aloud, he said, "She's so..." Logan let the words trail away as he watched a beautiful, perfectly poised Eden greet an older couple, putting them at ease.

  Chris grinned, obviously amused. "Yeah, she is, isn't she?"

  Logan answered with a grimace, but he couldn't seem to keep his gaze from turning back to the stunning woman with hair like a desert night and eyes the color of a summer sky. He found himself wondering if she'd noticed him, and what he could do to get her attention if she hadn't.

  * * * * *

  Eden, standing beside Sarah as the bride and groom received their guests, kept her voice low as she asked, "Don't tell me, let me guess. That's gotta be Logan Redhorse, right?"

  "Oh," Sarah said, as if caught by surprise, "you mean Mr. Tall, Dark, and Gorgeous standing next to Chris? The one you keep staring at who can't seem to take his eyes off you?"

  Eden made a face. "Yeah, that one."

  "He is good-looking, isn't he?"

  "And Phoenix gets warm in the summer," Eden answered coolly. "So why haven't you said anything, girl? You know you're only allowed to keep one at a time."

  "I didn't know you'd be interested," Sarah answered in a whisper, then raised her voice as Mrs. Peterson took her hand. "Eden, you remember Mrs. Peterson, don't you?"

  "The one who makes the prize-winning peach pies," Eden said, giving the woman her most ingratiating smile. When both Petersons had passed, she added with a touch of pique, "Why wouldn't I be interested?"

  "He works for the Navajo nation," Sarah answered. "Lives out on the reservation."

  "So?"

  "I thought you'd become a big-city gal these days."

  "Oh, you know me." Eden adopted a breezy tone. "I go where the men are."

  "Yeah, right." Sarah didn't seem to be buying. "I've noticed that about you. And where are the dozens of men you're keeping dangling these days?"

  Eden wrinkled her nose again. “Marriage has made you mean, girl."

  Sarah chuckled in response.

  "So honestly, why didn't you mention him?"

  Sarah shrugged. "Logan hasn't been very interested in belagaana women—at least, not as a rule." She turned a speculative look toward the man in question, who seemed quite interested in one particular specimen.

  The conversation was interrupted once more while Sarah, then Eden, greeted the Washburns and the Shelleys, then Eden whispered, "Logan has something against non- Navajo women?"

  "His mother was belagaana," Sarah answered quietly. "She abandoned him as a newborn. He has never forgiven her for it, or the rest of us, either."

  "Oh." Sarah's words struck Eden like a blow to the midsection. Abandoned by his mother? "That would be a tough one."

  "I suppo
se it would," Sarah answered. "Logan's making progress, though—when it comes to women of other cultures, I mean. He really likes Kate."

  "Who wouldn't?" Eden responded. "Kate's a dear. By the way, I've been meaning to ask you about her. Now that she's married your father and you've married her son, is she your stepmother or your mother-in-law?"

  "Both, I suppose." Both women turned to look at the vivacious older woman who stood beside Sarah's father, her new husband, and near her son, who was now Sarah's husband. "She says I can just call her Kate."

  "Works for me," Eden answered. "I can see why Logan, or anyone, would like her. I always have."

  "She's a sweetheart," Sarah answered, "and Logan says he likes me, too. At least that's what he tells me all the time—that I'm not bad for a belagaana, that is—and I don't think Logan's the kind to say he likes someone if he doesn't."

  "No, I don't think so," Eden answered. "He looks like the honest type." Even as she spoke the words, she was struck by the irony that she had just been thinking about an impossible fantasy man who would always treat her with respect and honesty. With the moment of deja vu came the otherworldly sense that more was happening here than met the eye.

  "So, do you want an introduction?" Sarah asked.

  "Not today. You have enough on your mind."

  "Not too much to help my best friend meet Mr. Right."

  "Mister Maybe Later," Eden shivered, unable to say more. Then she heard Sarah saying, "Mrs. Snow, you remember my friend, Eden."

  Eden was determined to remember her purpose. "Hello, Mrs. Snow."

  "Why hello, Ed..." The older woman furrowed her brow. "Are you well, dear? You're looking a bit pale."

  Eden mustered a smile. "Yes, of course. I'm fine. I think it's just the heat."

  "True, the heat is wilting everyone," Mrs. Snow answered, but as she turned away, apparently reassured, Eden thought, This is weird. This is much too weird.

  The reception line had broken up and the d.j., a family friend who had given his services as a wedding gift, announced the cake-cutting ceremony as "an ancient gesture symbolizing the couple's desire to nurture and provide for each other."