“Yeah. That doesn’t sound realistic.” And the idea that a twelve-year-old needed a happy pill made his heart ache.
Maybe it was time to talk to Lexie, to tell her that she had been in her father’s thoughts before he died.
“I’m going to help you with Lexie,” Nick said. “Whatever I can do.”
Her smile was soft, her voice a little broken. “Thank you.”
“Sure. No problem.” Feeling suddenly awkward, he reached for the wheelbarrow, sucked in a rough breath. “I guess we better get these animals fed.”
“I’ll fill the water buckets.”
She turned away, and he let out the breath he’d been holding.
So what about Elaina? When should he tell her about their pending marriage? Today? Tomorrow? Next week?
Take care of my family…the old way. Be the Comanche I should have been. Teach my daughter… protect my wife.
Your wife. Dear God, brother, you gave me your wife. The woman you held in your arms every night.
I can’t tell her today, Nick thought, catching sight of Elaina’s hair shimmering in the morning light. He could tackle only one obstacle at a time. And for now, he had a twelve-year-old girl to worry about.
Twenty minutes later, Nick and Elaina stood in the kitchen, discussing breakfast.
“We can have something here,” he said. “Unless you want to go out.”
“Here is fine.”
He opened the fridge. “I’ve got bacon and eggs.” Food he’d purchased with Elaina and Lexie in mind. Normally he started his day with a bowl of cereal and two cups of black coffee. “I’m not a great cook,” he admitted.
She turned to wash her hands. “I don’t mind fixing breakfast.”
“All right. Thanks.” He shifted his feet, feeling uncomfortable in his own kitchen. Nick wasn’t used to company, to having to consider someone else’s preference.
He pulled a hand through his shorn hair. This husband thing was going to take some adjustment.
“Are the pans in here?” she asked, pointing to the cabinet below the stove.
“Yeah.” He placed a carton of eggs and a pound of bacon on the counter, and found himself looking around, wondering if his house was too simple for Elaina. He’d designed the kitchen for practicality, but it wasn’t fancy. And neither was the rest of the place. The decor was sturdy, woodsy and Western. A far cry, he thought, from her city-slick condo with its creamy carpet and floor-to-ceiling windows.
Elaina set a pan on the stove. “Maybe I should wake Lexie first.”
“I can do that.” And it would give him an opportunity to talk to his niece in private. “I’d like to spend a few minutes alone with her.”
“That’s nice.” Elaina smiled. “She’d probably like that, too.”
“Okay. Good. Just call us when breakfast is ready.”
“No problem,” she responded, still smiling a little.
Elaina had a pretty smile, he thought as he turned and headed down the hall. A sexy mouth. Which, of course, wasn’t what a marriage was based on. Sometimes Nick wanted to forget the whole thing, convince himself that Grant had been in shock and didn’t know what he was saying.
But deep in his heart he knew that wasn’t true. Hadn’t they talked about it when they were kids? He could still hear their voices, two sixth-grade boys discussing their heritage, a year after their mother had left.
“All that old Comanche stuff is weird,” Grant had said.
“No, it’s not. I think it’s kinda cool that a man got to have more than one wife.”
“You would, Nicky. You’re a pervert.”
They both laughed. Nick had already kissed a girl. Not a wet kiss, but a lip lock just the same.
“I wish we could have lived back then,” he said, picturing his ancestors riding across the plains. “We would have been awesome warriors.”
Grant rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. I can see it now. You’d die in battle, and I’d end up having to marry all your wives and raise all your goofy kids.”
Nick frowned. “I’d do that for you.“
“Really?“
“Yeah.“
“Okay, but my kids aren’t gonna be goofy,” Grant said, punching his twin’s shoulder. “My kids are gonna be cool.”
Nick punched him back, and they laughed again, brothers who loved each other more than anything.
The memory faded, and Nick swallowed the lump in his throat.
He knocked on Lexie’s door, waited a beat and heard a muffled, groggy-sounding “It’s okay, Mom. I’m awake.”
“I’m not your mom. It’s Uncle Nick. Can I come in?”
“Yes.”
She was sitting up in bed, the blanket bunched around her hips. Her sweats were a standard shade of gray, and her sleepy eyes were the shape of her mother’s and the color of her father’s. Lexie Bluestone was a youthful combination of Elaina and Grant. Her size was a bit puzzling, though, considering how tall her parents were.
Maybe Elaina had been a late bloomer. Nick didn’t know much about his future wife.
His possible future wife, he amended. She might not agree to marry him. Asking a white woman to adhere to an old Comanche practice was asking a lot.
“Morning, Lexie,” Nick said, his heart hammering in his chest.
“Hi.” She reached for a pillow and hugged it.
She looked like a lost soul, a little girl with big, sad eyes. I’m sorry, he thought. So sorry I took your father away.
Nick moved forward, then sat on the edge of the bed. “I was hoping we could talk for a few minutes.”
“About what?“
“Your dad.”
Lexie’s eyes got bigger, and he realized he’d caught her off guard. Smooth move, Bluestone. Just sock her in the gut with it. “There’s just something I wanted to tell you.”
She hugged the pillow a little tighter. “About my dad?”
Nick nodded. “About the night he died.“
“You were there,” she said, her hair falling across her face in a sleek black line. “You were with him.”
“Your dad talked to me before he died.” Although Nick wanted to brush the hair from her cheek, he kept his hands clasped in his lap. “Some of his last words were about you.”
Lexie didn’t respond. She just watched him with those luminous eyes.
“He asked me to look after you. And to teach you about being Comanche.”
She blinked, and he saw a shimmer of tears. “Is that what you’re going to do?” she asked.
“Yes, I am. Is that okay with you?”
When she nodded, her chin bumped the pillow. “I guess so. I mean, if that’s what my dad wanted.”
They both fell silent. The room was still dim, vertical blinds shutting out the morning light. Nick remembered holding Lexie at her christening, a tiny babe draped in white lace. Grant had been so proud.
“Uncle Nick?“
“Yes?”