and the scent of herbal shampoo stirring his senses, memories flooded in.
It had been extremely hot the summer he’d first met Maggie. He’d hung around the activity center on the pretext of working out with the young people. What he wanted was information about drug abuse and drug dealing involving the teens. What he found was a pretty white woman playing a lousy game of basketball with the young adults. Sweaty, her hair curling wildly around her flushed face, she’d looked so alive, so vibrant. Joe couldn’t resist hanging around. And she’d been so good with the kids, concerned and caring about everything in their lives.
Even after he identified the teens involved in the drug trafficking, he still went by the center with one excuse or another to talk to Maggie. His fascination for the auburn-haired social worker with the sunny smile was pretty obvious.
Charlie Tatanka, a recovering teen drug abuser, had agreed to assist in a DEA sting operation to bring the dealer in. Because of the rapport and level of trust he had with Maggie, the teen insisted she be close at hand as the bust went down.
Within the first two minutes of the maneuver, the dealer realized it was a setup and freaked, pulling a gun. Charlie was shot in the arm before the DEA and the tribal police could disarm the perpetrator.
Joe remembered how upset Maggie had been. As distressed as any parent would be over her own child, she’d accompanied the boy in the ambulance to the hospital where she’d stayed half the night ensuring Charlie was comfortable and had the proper treatment.
After the drug dealer was handed over to the state police, Joe dropped by the hospital to check on Charlie and Maggie. Charlie’s father was there to take him home in his pickup truck. Joe offered to give Maggie a lift. That’s when his inward struggle began.
She was still wired, talking nonstop during the trip back, riding an adrenaline high. Although worried about Charlie she couldn’t contain her excitement over ridding the reservation of another dealer. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes shining.
She’d been so beautiful, Joe had had a tough time concentrating on the road. When they’d arrived at Maggie’s small house on the reservation, he’d insisted on checking out the place to make sure she was safe. Reluctant to leave her, he’d been caught up in her exuberance, the passion of her conviction spilling into him and kindling a similar passion of another nature.
When Joe started to leave, Maggie made the mistake of throwing her arms around his neck to thank him for caring about the teenagers. Unable to resist, he’d returned the embrace, kissing her until he was breathless, amazed at the burst of desire surging through his body.
In the heat of that embrace, he hadn’t given a thought to what color, race or religion she was. That she wasn’t Indian didn’t cross his mind once. He only knew he had to hold her, touch her and feel her skin against his. The kiss didn’t end until morning. He’d spent the night in Maggie’s arms feeling as if he’d been given a gift from the spirits.
Then he’d woken to reality and a vast amount of guilt. He’d made a promise to his father that he’d continue the ways of his people. There was no room for a white woman in the Indian culture—no place for her in his promise to his father. He’d left that morning without a word, before she’d awakened.
He’d taken two days off from work and escaped to the bluffs on a vision quest, his mind a confused mass of old beliefs and fresh desire. The quest turned into a reaffirmation of his Lakotan beliefs, but he moved no closer to resolving his feelings for Maggie.
Nor would he be given the chance to work through them.
Upon his return, the first thing that hit him was the message on his answering machine from the South Dakota National Guard. “You’ve been ordered to active duty. You have twenty-four hours to report to your assigned duty station.”
His world had rushed in around him and he’d made a decision. For the next fourteen months, he’d lived with the result in the hell of Iraq.
But now he stood with Maggie once again in his arms and knew what a terrible mistake he’d made. Her soft curves had blossomed even more as a mother and he liked it—almost too much. She was his stepbrother’s widow, still mourning the loss of her husband.
When Maggie stopped shaking, he held her away. “Are you going to be all right?”
She sniffed and rubbed her nose against the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “You must think I’m a complete flake.”
“No, your son was kidnapped. I’d say you’re reacting the way any mother would.”
“Thanks.” A tentative smile lifted the corners of her mouth. Then her eyes filled with more tears and her lips trembled.
Joe wanted to kiss those lips and chase away her fears, instead he folded her into his arms. Her watery smile was a sad reminder of the how happy she used to be. That seemed like a lifetime ago. “I remember the first time I saw you at the youth center. You were playing basketball with some of the kids.”
A hiccupping laugh was muffled against his shirt. “I was terrible.”
“No,” He tipped her head up. “You were wonderful.”
“How can you say that? I didn’t even know how to dribble.”
“But you tried.” She’d laughed and played, even though she couldn’t bounce the ball once without having it taken away from her.
Maggie’s lips twisted. “I never could get a ball in the bucket.”
His arms tightened around her slim waist. “Yes, you did.”
“Not by myself.” Her voice dropped to a whisper and she tucked her head against his chest.
He’d helped her make a shot by standing behind her and placing his hands over hers. Her backside had pressed against him, stirring his blood in a way he couldn’t ignore.
The warmth of Maggie against him now brought back those memories. His body remembered her shape and responded. Joe closed his eyes and willed the surge to subside. He wasn’t there to make love to Maggie. “Who were you playing with? I can’t remember.”
“Charlie, Tray and Kiya…” She stopped her list and her breath caught.
Joe glanced down to see her eyes fill again with tears. “What?”
Her fingers curled in his shirt and she pressed her face against his chest. “Kiya was alive then.”
Joe had received the news from Paul that Kiya Driskall, one of the troubled teens Maggie had been working with, had overdosed.
“What happened, Maggie?”
“I don’t know.” Maggie tore away from Joe and walked toward the window. “She’d been through detox at the hospital. She was doing so well.” She inhaled a jerky stream of air and let it out, her shoulders bowing with her release. “Charlie found her behind the center, she’d injected meth. There was nothing we could do. She was already dead.” Maggie turned to Joe, her eyes haunted.
“It wasn’t your fault, Maggie.” He reached for her, but she backed away.
“No, Joe.” She jerked away. “I failed her. Just like I failed Dakota. I wasn’t there when she needed me. The kids quit coming
