Promise Canyon (Virgin River #13)(39)

"Can I ask you something? You're under no obligation to--"

"Ask," he said.

"What was it like to find your girlfriend pregnant at seventeen?"

"Sixteen," he said. "She'd broken things off with me, and since things had been so good between us, I didn't understand. But a boy never does, I guess. Guys have so many confidence issues at that age. Months went by and I couldn't get past it, couldn't take the suspense any longer and I went to ask her, to demand she tell me what was wrong with me. I found her about six months pregnant. And she was not well. She looked thin and sick, not rosy cheeked and plump the way a pregnant woman should look. It was apparent the whole thing was harder on her than me. Of course I was terrified, but I tried to convince her I could take care of her. She rejected that idea at once. She wasn't strong enough to go up against her family. And I knew my family wouldn't just let one of our own go."

"Were you punished?" she asked.

"With disapproval and shame, and they took their pound of flesh over time--no one got up in the middle of the night to tend to Gabe but me. We shared a bedroom and although I worked and went to school, his 2:00 a.m. and 5:00 a.m. feedings were all mine. When he was sick, throwing up and crying and shitting all over, I was on duty. And when he was teething...man, I own every tooth in his head, I swear to God. My mother wore a superior smile while I suffered lack of sleep and frustration. It was as if she was saying, Welcome to my world." He chuckled. "It was very hard. But worth every minute. Look at him. He amazes me."

She was quiet for a moment. "That's very unusual," she finally said. "For a young boy to take on a massive responsibility like that."

"There were times I felt I had the weight of the world on my shoulders, alone, but let's be honest--my mother was always right on the other side of the door. She trained me. I took care of the feedings and changings, but she was up for each one, watching, being sure Gabe always came first in our household. An infant is always first."

"I asked him if it was hard on him, but he said he had it easy," she told Clay.

He let a small, proud smile touch his lips. After a moment of silence he said, "He's more than I ever deserved."

"I don't know about that. Sounds like you were completely devoted to him. That deserves gratitude, which he seems to have in abundance. I was an only child, as well."

"No doubt you were an excellent one."

"Also raised by my grandparents. Then my grandfather alone after my grandmother died--"

"And your parents?"

"Father unknown and my mother's been missing for a long time. She left me with my grandparents when I was a baby. She was an alcoholic and eventually just ran off."

"Alcoholic," he said solemnly. "Our people have an issue with that."

A strange thing happened to Lilly in that moment. In all the years her grandfather had tried in vain to pull her closer to her roots, her foundation, she'd pulled away. She pushed herself more into the opposite world, trading Native studies for accounting, Native spiritualism for the eastern pursuit of yoga. And yet when Clay made that simple statement--Our people have an issue with that--she felt an instant bond.

"Does your family have an issue?" she asked.

"A cousin or two have tested the evils, to their peril." He shook his head. "My family stripped the mystery from that a long time ago. Since I was a small child it was stressed that there's no escape--you drink alcohol, you become a drunk and die young. We're not like the French or English in that regard. Our bodies are simply more susceptible to alcohol's damages."

"Did you test it?" she wanted to know.

He shook his head. "Not a drop. I like being in control of my mind and body. I have a hard enough time with that sober. You?"

She shook her head. Then she laughed. "We have that in common--I struggle with control enough as it is."

Their conversation moved on to the more upbeat aspects of their race, tribes, families. Lilly hadn't lived on a ranch as Clay had, but she'd lived in a rural community where there was great freedom to run, play, ride. She just recently realized that sometimes she missed it desperately. And while Clay had been back to the Navajo Nation numerous times over the years, Lilly had never been back. And there was more--they had each attended college, though only Lilly had a degree. Clay had studied business because he wanted to learn how to turn his equine talents into a viable and successful business, which he had done.

"Are you well-known and rich then?" she asked.

"I'm known in the horse industry for various small things and I am rich in purpose and experience."

She laughed at him. "That was a dodge!"

"Want to see my bankbook?" he asked with a snicker. "I plan to take care of my son and my parents. I'm not comfortable that I'm prepared for that yet."

They talked about this part of Northern California and its most desirable aspects, the almost intimidating beauty, the pristine wilderness, the wildlife and clean air. Clay said he missed the mountains and canyons around Flagstaff and this was a good substitute. He told her what he'd already discovered in some of the small mountain towns and she told him what there was to enjoy on the coast.

While he finished with Streak--putting him up for the night--they continued their conversation. Finally, chores done and Clay's bag of ice warmed and reduced to water, he said, "My sister sets a big table every night--there's lots of family and sometimes friends. You can follow me there, join us for dinner. You would be welcome, and you'd like them--they're salt of the earth. Ursula is a teacher, one of the reasons I want Gabe living with them. He's a good student, but she'll make him better. And my brother-in-law is a police chief in a small town. There are kids--four besides Gabe still at home--and Tom's parents live with them."