Between Earth and Sky(74)
A flash of movement in the kitchen window caught her attention. She hurried inside.
The large room, always a center of bustle and activity, for once lay still. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, casting the room in a golden glow.
she whispered, setting the tray of cookies atop the counter.
He waved to her from between two towering cupboards. Stepping around the butter churn and a broom, she joined him in the small cranny.
“Before you tell me anything I have to—”
He silenced her with a kiss, his lips hungry, urgent. She forgot whatever it was she wanted to say and leaned into his embrace. When she was all but starved of breath, he pulled away. They crouched down for better concealment amid the jumble of kitchenware, their knees touching, backs pressed against the sides of cupboards. leaned forward and kissed her again.
Unease built in her stomach, even while his lips lingered over her own. A fierceness infused his embrace, an undercurrent of emotion she couldn’t quite name. She pulled back. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”
“Mr. Wallis talked to me today of his carriage works.”
Alma spoke over him. “I knew when I saw your reaction to Asku’s speech—”
“Mr. Simms vouched for my skill with the saw and the lathe and the—”
“I knew you’d made up your mind to return to the reservation.”
“He hired me on at a dollar a day!”
Alma blinked. “What? You’re not leaving?”
He shook his head. Her elbow struck the butter churn as she reached for him. It teetered but did not fall. They laughed, and when their laughter was spent, they kissed again.
“Where will you stay?” she asked.
“Mr. Wallis recommended a boardinghouse near of the shop.”
Her smile faltered. “Do they take on . . . er . . .”
“Indians? Mr. Wallis seemed to think so.”
“And Father could write a letter recommending you.” She squeezed hand. “You’re really going to stay here in La Crosse?”
Alma felt weightless. Sunlight fell like a halo around them, gilding the broom and butter churn and cupboards, erasing from view the dust and cobwebs. She leaned forward and rested her head against his chest. His heartbeat—a pace quicker than its usual steady rhythm—sounded in her ear.
“Shan’t you miss your home?” she asked.
His chest rose and fell with a deep breath. “Every day. The smell of pine trees, the smiling faces of my brothers and sisters, the sound of the , our sacred drum.” His arms tightened around her and he burrowed his fingers into her pinned-up curls. “But I would miss you more.”
“We don’t have to stay here forever. In La Crosse, I mean. We could settle closer to your reservation. Maybe Milwaukee or Green Bay. You could open your own carriage repair shop. I could work at a grammar school or teach piano.”
body shook with laughter. “You? A teacher like ?”
“I wouldn’t be so wicked as her.” She scowled in her best Miss Wells impression. “But I certainly wouldn’t tolerate troublemakers like you.”
“That’s not the life of you.” His voice was thick, suddenly void of humor. “You were meant for big houses and fancy dinners, china and silver.”
Alma lifted her head to meet his eyes. “I don’t need all that finery.”
“You don’t want to marry some rich white man?”
“No.”
The glint in his eyes faded, leaving them hard and weary as petrified wood. “You should, Azaadiins.” But as he said this, his arms tightened around her. “We’re not a good match, you and I.”
“We’re a perfect match.” She pulled back slightly from his embrace. Why didn’t he see that? What did it matter if they came from different worlds, so long as . . . She took a deep breath. “I love you.”
For all their joking before in the woods, she’d never actually said the words. Now she felt suddenly wary and unclothed. Her heart pounded through the ensuing silence. Had he heard her? Did he feel the same? His actions spoke of love, staying here instead of returning to his home, but nevertheless she longed for him to say it.
The light around them faded, obscured by some fleeting cloud. eyes dropped to the dusty floor and his brow furrowed. Despite the balmy day and warmth radiating from his body, Alma shivered.
Another moment of silence, then smiled—that wry, crooked smile she so adored. He raised his gaze to hers. “. I love you, too.”
Alma reached for him, not caring if she knocked over the butter churn or broom or even the entire cupboard. He loved her and he would stay. They kissed and huddled close until approaching footsteps outside shooed them away. Nothing of the rest of the day seemed to touch her—not Mr. Chase’s salacious glances, not Lily’s endless prattle, not the hours of cleanup after the guests had left. She watched the sun glide toward the horizon until it hung red and brilliant above the trees, its rays—for a fleeting moment—a bridge between earth and sky.
CHAPTER 31
Minnesota, 1906
Alma stood a moment in the middle of the empty road, her eyes adjusting to the bright midday light, her ears ringing from the blaring ripsaw, her nerves alight like an electric bulb. The hem of her skirt thrashed in the wind. How could Frederick be so cold? Didn’t he still care? If not for her, for Asku. Find Minowe—that was his advice. Her jaw set and she shook her head. There had to be another way.