A Rainbow in Paradise Read online

  When Eden broke the contact, he let her go reluctantly, and then saw the heat in her face and knew she had been as profoundly moved by their kiss as he had. Her eyes glittered with an almost surreal light, and her cheeks flamed. She had never looked lovelier.

  She gasped, catching her breath, and lifted a hand to smooth her hair, but did not quite meet his eyes as she said, "G-good night, Logan."

  His own voice was equally husky when he answered, "I'll call you."

  "Y-es," she stammered, "Yes, call," and stepped inside.

  Chapter Three

  Eden leaned into the kitchen floor's gray linoleum, attacking it with a vengeance. For three days now, she'd been mopping and cleaning and scrubbing with fiendish zeal, driving herself to exhaustion—and listening for the phone to ring. It had rung exactly five times. Once it was the plumber, telling her he couldn't get around to fixing her bathroom drain until the end of the week. Once was the glass company, making an appointment to measure for new window screens. The other three were all from Sarah, wondering if she'd had a good time the other evening and what she thought of Logan. What she thought was something she couldn't express even to herself, let alone to Sarah. What she answered was that he'd said he'd call.

  I shouldn't let this happen, she cautioned herself. I'm acting like a kid with her first crush. It isn't as if I've never dated a man before. But just then the phone rang, and she ran to answer it, hoping it was Logan in spite of herself.

  * * * * *

  I never should have told her I'd call, Logan chided himself as he watched the goats clamber down from the truck. I never should have taken her out last weekend. He sighed and turned his attention back to the goats.

  This was the second delivery of pregnant Boer does to the experimental station near Many Farms. The first group, representing two of the five North American bloodlines, had delivered their first young six months ago. They would soon be bred back, along with their female kids, to the two good bucks the Navajo nation had purchased at significant expense, each of which represented a different bloodline. The fifth line was arriving today in these eight does, all heavy with young, and in the one young buck that was now being led down the exit ramp. Five bloodlines weren't enough to ensure the genetic health of the species, but that was the best he could do until either the nation or its Canadian suppliers could import more lines from South Africa.

  "Put them in there," he directed as his mentors had instructed him. The Canadian couple had warned him always to be careful to separate the new arrivals until he was certain of their good health. There was little point in letting a potentially ill animal contaminate the rest of their little flock, especially when these founders of their species came at such a dear price.

  There they are, he thought as he watched them settle into the tight paddocks, the First Man and First Woman of goats, the Adams and Eves of their kind. Adam, Eve. Eden? He sighed. He hadn't had a thought in the last three days that hadn't come back to her somehow.

  It had been foolhardy to spend the evening with her—wonderful and exciting, but definitely foolhardy. And it would be equally foolish to call her now when he knew nothing could come of the time they spent together. He was like a man on a self-imposed but unwanted fast who couldn't resist leaning through the door of the bakery, tempting himself with the sights and smells of all the delicacies he had sworn to avoid.

  But don't you owe her something ? his conscience niggled at him. You said you 'd call. What if she's waiting to hear from you? He shook the thought away, recognizing it for what it was, merely another temptation, another way of rationalizing what he wanted—wanted so badly he could almost taste her on his lips—even though he knew it would be unwise.

  But you said you'd call. That amounts to a promise, and you've always been a man of your word. He raised an eyebrow. That much was true. He had always been a truthful person; he'd even prided himself on his truthfulness. Well, that settled that. He had to call her. But what could he say? That he was just calling to explain why he hadn't called? That he was calling to tell her why he couldn't call her anymore? That didn't make a lot of sense. Still, he knew now that he had to call. His own honor demanded it. Didn't it? Logan shook his head as if the action might clear his fuzzy thinking.

  "Do you get good cell reception here?" he asked Philbert, the young man who threw such energy and enthusiasm into managing the Boer herd, conscious of the role he might have in improving the future of his people.

  "Sometimes yes, sometimes no," Phil answered. “You might want to check to see if you’ve got any bars on your phone.”

  “I don’t, but if you have a phone here, I can use my calling card so it goes on my bill.”

  "Guess that's okay then." Philbert nodded and Logan hid a smile. The kid's assertion of the small authority Logan himself had given was almost enough to distract him from his purpose—just not for long.

  I still don't know what I'm going to tell her, Logan thought as he walked toward the building. Oh, well. Guess I'll decide that when I get her on the line. The important thing, he told himself firmly, was that he'd decided to call. He knew when he thought of it that it had to be a right decision. It must be; experience told him only right choices felt this good. He walked toward the barn whistling softly.

  * * * * *

  It's probably the glass man again, Eden thought as she answered the phone, expecting disappointment.

  "Eden?"

  "Logan." Warmth and relief flooded through her. She felt melted to the floor. There was a long pause on the other end, and for a moment she wondered if she was mistaken.

  "How have you been?" he asked.

  "Fine. Just fine." She tried to remember whether she'd ever had such a stilted but highly charged phone conversation. The subtext was as rich as any she'd ever imagined, but their surface chat was as difficult as their first attempt in her living room. "How are the goats?"

  Logan chuckled. She could almost hear his relief. "They're doing fine. We just got eight more does and a new buck in. I'm at the farm now."

  That explains it, she thought. He's just been busy. At the same time, she was thanking the muses for giving her something to say. "You must have been very busy," she said aloud, creating an opening.

  "Yes," he said, "but that's not why I didn't call."

  "Oh?" Though Eden tried to keep her voice steady, she felt the strength ebbing from her knees and leaned against the wall.

  "I don't want to hurt you, Eden," Logan said, and she could hear him struggling with the words. "I think maybe it's better if we don't see each other anymore."

  She swallowed, fighting the sting of rejection. "All right, if that's what you prefer. Logan, have I done something?"

  "No! Not at all. You're... that is, you've been... It isn't you, Eden. It's just that I have other..." How can I say this? "...other commitments...." He let the sentence trail off.

  Eden closed her eyes and tried to choke down the lump that had instantly formed in her throat. "Chris didn't tell me you had someone," she said, hoping he wasn't about to confess to a secret engagement, or worse.

  "I don't," he said quickly. "It isn't like that. It's just... T'aa 'aanu 'adishm, but I'm making a mess of this." She heard him take a deep breath, and then the next words poured out in a rush. "It's just that there's such a powerful attraction between us, and I didn't want to give you any false ideas, or..." He stopped. When he spoke again, his voice was filled with self-disgust. "I sound like a pompous jerk, don't I?" He snickered.

  She laughed—brittle, nervous laughter. "Not at all. But I still don't understand. I mean, I understand that you don't want to see me anymore, and I guess that's really the only part I have to understand, but..." She paused. He could hear her dejection.

  He felt wicked, vicious, and helpless to do anything about it. "Eden..."

  She spoke hesitantly. "May I ask you something?"

  "Sure." He gritted his teeth, bracing.

  "If you'd decided not to see me, why did you take me out the other eve
ning?''

  She heard him sigh. "Because I wanted to. Because you are beautiful and I enjoy your company."

  "Oh." The pause lengthened. "Logan?"

  "Um."

  “Why did you call me today?''

  "Because I couldn't help myself." He waited a good three beats before more words tumbled out. "I'm sorry, Eden. I didn't mean to say that. Even though it's true, I didn't mean to say it."

  She smiled, hearing the truth in his words, hearing something else, too. She let the silence linger for a moment before whispering. "I know what you're feeling." Suddenly the air was alive with the same buzzing energy she felt whenever he was near her.

  Logan felt it, too; she knew he did. It hummed in his voice when he said, "Eden, do you think we can talk about this?"

  "I thought we just had."

  He heard her light tone, and he heard the way she was forcing it. He wanted to kick himself for the way he was making her feel. "I mean face-to-face. I'm driving into Holbrook tomorrow to pick up some things at the feed store. Is it all right if I drop by for a few minutes?"

  "Tomorrow? You can get away on a Friday?"

  "When the day is as open as tomorrow's schedule is, I can. So is it okay if I come by?"

  She drew a long, slow breath. "Do you think that's a good idea?"

  "Just to talk," he clarified.

  She nodded but realized he couldn't hear that. "All right, but tell me when you're coming, or you'll likely find me grimy and spotted in paint."

  "I can't be sure when I'll get there," he said, "but it doesn't matter to me if you're grimy and spotted. That is, if you can indulge me for a few minutes, just for a talk."

  “Okay.'' She answered him quickly, and he had the feeling she had blurted it out before she thought better of it and changed her mind. "Drop in whenever you're ready."

  "I'll see you tomorrow," he said, and hung up the phone.

  Eden sat looking at the receiver in her hand and finally set it in its cradle. What just happened here? After their kiss on the porch, she'd have sworn that Logan had been at least as profoundly affected by her as she had by him. Then today he had called her to tell her he couldn't see her anymore, and had ended by making a date for tomorrow? She walked away from the phone, as bewildered as she'd ever been and not even wanting to think about what tomorrow might bring.

  Miles away in Many Farms, Logan sat looking at another telephone receiver. I can't believe I just did that, he thought, aghast. Had he really just called the most attractive woman he'd seen in years to tell her he couldn't see her again, blurted out that he couldn't see her anymore without so much as an attempt at explanation, and then made a date to see her tomorrow? Yep, Logan, that's exactly what you did. He wondered if he was losing his mental faculties. He wondered if the People's doctors had a ceremony for the sickness that ailed him. He wondered how many ways he knew to say "idiot" in Navajo.

  It wasn't fair to Eden, either. What must she think of him, hurting her when she'd done nothing to hurt him, and then setting them both up for a repeat performance? He walked back toward Philbert, counting all the Navajo expressions he knew for a person of limited capacity and applying each to himself.

  Philbert. As if he needed more guilt! With a jolt, he recalled he had promised Phil the chance to drive into Chinle tomorrow to pick up the very list of items he'd just used as an excuse to see Eden. Well, at least he could make good on that one. He'd give Phil the list and let him make the trip to Chinle early, and then he'd drive into Holbrook anyhow. There were a few items in the hardware store he'd been thinking of picking up someday, whenever he could get around to it. His dad's old trailer would soon disintegrate under his feet if he didn't do some basic repairs. Maybe his foolishness over the pretty belagaana could serve a useful purpose after all.

  Taking little comfort in the thought, he returned to give Phil the list and explain his plans to be away tomorrow.

  * * * * *

  Eden rubbed an itchy spot on her face with the back of her hand, fearful of smearing herself with paint or grime if she used her fingers. She cast a quick glance at her wrist- watch; almost noon. The morning had disappeared in washing and spreading and masking. With half the day gone, she was finally ready to begin the serious work. A bead of sweat trickled down her face and dripped from her nose onto the lid of the paint bucket. It was going to be a long afternoon.

  She sighed and took a break, sitting on the newspapers spread on her living-room floor and leaning back against the dry, fresh-scrubbed wall. The room was nearly empty now, most of the old furniture hauled away by the local thrift store, most of the accumulated trash loaded into the twenty-cubic-yard Dumpster which she had filled to overflowing, and then paid a half-dozen neighborhood boys to stomp down so she could fill it up again. She planned to paint the ceiling first, then the walls, and finally the woodwork. When all the paint had dried, she could clean the carpets and count one room done. Even the idea exhausted her.

  She touched the rag on her head, making sure it fully covered her hair, hair she had washed sparkling clean that morning in preparation for Logan's arrival. Eden wondered: If she were a betting woman, would her money be on Logan showing up? Or on him wimping out?

  She smiled then, laughing at herself. Of all the words she had ever applied to Logan Redhorse—and she'd thought of all kinds in recent weeks—"wimp" had never been one of them. Face it, girl, she told herself, you hardly know the man, though heaven only knows how much you'd like to. Some echo in her conscience assured her that, whatever she didn't know, she wouldn't mind learning.

  But dreaming of Logan Redhorse wasn't getting the room painted. Eden sighed and struggled stiffly to her feet. It was going to be a long day, and sitting here would only make it longer. Still, even as she turned her thoughts back to her appointed task, some longing in her heart reached out to him, begging him to keep his promise, to come to see her this one last time. She knew now that some unspoken "commitment" was making him reluctant to see her and that apparently there was nothing she could do about it. That didn't keep her from wanting to see Logan again, even if all she got from the experience was another memory to add to a small and rather exclusive collection. "Come to me, Logan," she whispered aloud, willing him to feel her longing and match it with his own.

  * * * * *

  For the fourth time in the last ten minutes, Logan walked down the tool aisle in the hardware store, sure he must be looking for something. Courage, he told himself, only I don't think they sell that here. Charm, maybe? He'd definitely need something to make him welcome when he arrived at Eden's house.

  What was he going to say to her, anyway? Could he possibly tell her the truth? I can't marry you, Eden, but I can't resist being around you, so I thought I'd drop in for a little while just to bask in your presence and smell your hair, and maybe talk you into kissing me again before I ride off into the sunset. How's that sound? It didn't sound so good to him. He couldn't imagine that it would to her, either, especially not on a day like the one she had planned.

  Painting. Hey Redhorse, the lady is painting! Why hadn't he thought of that before? Passing up the plumber's helpers, he hurried to the paint aisle and picked up a couple of paint pads, a roller, a stir stick, two paper hats, and a package of brushes in assorted sizes. In his limited experience, he couldn't recall a single paint project where a pair of extra hands wasn't welcome. Pleased with his inspiration, he checked his watch, noticed it was almost one, and then made plans for another stop along the way. He would make himself welcome. Maybe he could even earn a kiss, and not end up feeling like a heel for taking it. He smiled. Perhaps he wasn't such a tl"id after all.

  * * * * *

  When she heard the car door close outside, Eden stifled the impulse to run to the window. She'd been running to the window all morning and all it had gotten her so far was further behind in her work. Then she heard footsteps on the front walk and realized this car door was closing at her house. Hurrying into the front hallway, she slipped the rag from her hair and u
sed the front mirror and the brush she'd left near it to tidy up. Noticing the dirty blotch on her right cheek, she licked a finger and rubbed at the spot. The doorbell rang and she gave herself a quick inspection. What she saw wasn't great, but it would have to do. She opened the door.

  "Hi," Logan said, holding up a brown bag from a Holbrook drive-through. "I brought lunch."

  She hadn't thought of lunch, but now that the thought occurred to her mind, her stomach concurred. "That sounds great. Anybody who brings food is welcome here." She held the door for him, then noticed as he slipped past her that, good as he had looked in formal dress at the wedding or in dress slacks and a western shirt on their dinner date, he looked even better in snug blue jeans and a burgundy polo shirt, the heels of his boots clicking on the floor tiles of her front hallway. Eden swallowed a sigh and closed the door. "I've sent most of the old furniture away, but I still have the little table in the breakfast nook and a couple of chairs, and I made some lemonade this morning."

  "Sounds good," Logan said. "This weather produces a mighty thirst."

  "That's for sure." She led him into the kitchen where it took them only a few minutes to set up the lunch. Though he'd bought a burger and fries for himself, he offered her a breast-of-chicken sandwich and a side salad. "How'd you know?" she asked, then answered her own question. "You must have talked to Sarah."

  "She told me you're a chicken fan," he admitted. "I wouldn't have known what to bring."

  "Well, you couldn't have done better." The conversation lagged as they ate and Eden wondered what to say.

  There was that "commitment" Logan had come here to talk about, but she wasn't in any hurry to bring up that subject. What else was there? She was just about to resort to the goats again when Logan finally spoke.

  "I brought something else," he said, "besides the food, I mean." He held up the bag from the hardware store.

  Eden shrugged. "What is it? I'm not good at guessing games. You may have to just show me." He opened the bag and poured out its contents. She gaped. "Paintbrushes?"