Rider on Fire & When You Call My Name. Sharon Sala
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dishes with rain splattering against the windows. After that, Franklin had taken her on a tour of the house, only to have it interrupted by a power failure. Sonora had embarrassed herself by panicking when the lights had gone out. By the time Franklin found flashlights and lit a few candles, the power was on.
Now they sat in front of a television without paying any attention to the programming, trying to find points of connection between their separate lives.
Sonora was fascinated with his artistic skills and was going through a photo album that represented a complete set of his work once he’d turned a hobby into a profession. She was in awe of where he’d been, and the heads of states he’d met in faraway countries.
Franklin, on the other hand, was trying to hide his dismay at the profession his only child had chosen.
“So, when did you begin working with the DEA?” he asked.
Sonora turned a page in the album, then looked up.
“It seems like forever, but I guess it’s been about seven or eight years now. I had just turned twenty-one. I’m twenty-nine now. I’ll be thirty in September.”
Franklin’s nostrils flared. It was the only indication he gave of realizing there was another slot to be filled.
“Your birthday,” he said softly.
Sonora nodded, then stopped.
“Oh. Yes. Another gap in our knowledge of each other, which I can quickly fix. My birthday is September 12. I’m five feet ten inches tall in my bare feet. I wear a size ten in clothes, and I love chocolate.”
He tried to smile and hugged her, thankful that she was trying to make light of the vast gap between them, because the truth of it broke his heart.
“You are tall, like me,” he said. “Your mother, Leila, was a small woman, but she had a big laugh.” His smile faded. “It was the first thing I loved about her.” Then he shook his head. “But that’s for another time. I was born on June 4 in a storm cellar while a tornado blew away the house that was here. This is the one they built to replace it, so it is the only home I’ve ever known.”
Sonora nodded as she listened to him talk, but she wasn’t listening as intently as she should have been. Instead, she was marking the way his left eyebrow arched as he told something funny, noticing his slim hands and long fingers, hands of an artist. His skin was darker than hers, but not by much, and she suspected part of the washed-out color of his skin was due to his illness. She thought of seeing him unconscious on the floor and not knowing the connection between them, and how blessed she was to be sitting here now.
Then she thought of Adam coming to his rescue.
“Tell me about Adam Two Eagles,” she said.
Franklin had sensed what seemed to be interest between the two and could only hope something came of it.
“His father was my best friend,” he said. “His mother was a distant cousin on my mother’s side.”
“We’re related?” she asked, unaware that she was frowning.
This time, Franklin allowed himself a grin. “Only in the most distant sense of the word. Probably what would amount to a sixth or seventh cousin.”
“Oh. Well. That hardly counts, does it?”
Franklin’s grin spread. “Definitely does not count.”
Sonora realized he was having fun at her expense and made a face at him. “It’s not what you think. I was asking only because I would want to know of any relatives.”
Franklin sighed, and then took her hand in his. “I’m afraid, when it comes to close family, we’re it.” Then Franklin shifted gears to Sonora’s life. “Have you ever been married?”
“No.” She thought of Buddy and smiled. “Not even close, although I’ve had a couple of relationships and gotten a good friend from one of them.”
“Friends are good,” Franklin said.
Sonora thought of the dream she’d had of Adam, of the whisper of his breath on the back of her neck and the challenge he’d given her right before she’d awakened.
“Come to me,” he’d said.
And she would have done it—willingly. However, faced with the real man and not one out of some dream, she was far more discerning. As intriguing as he was—as handsome and compelling as he was—he was still a stranger.
Unaware of the places her mind had taken her, Franklin had shifted a few mental gears of his own.
“In the morning, I’ll show you the boundaries of our land,” Franklin said.
Sonora was so taken aback by the fact that he’d referred to the property as “ours” that she could hardly speak. Still, she felt a need to slow him down from committing to things he might later come to regret.
“Franklin…wait. Please. You don’t need to do this,” she said.
“Do what?” Franklin asked.
“Include me in your life so quickly. It’s not ‘our’ land, it’s yours.”
Franklin frowned, then shook his head.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said. “Everything I do these days is done quickly. I don’t have the luxury of assuming there will be a tomorrow. And knowing you exist and that you are of my flesh is a joy you don’t understand. To the Native American, family is everything, and my family has lived in this area for generations. The last four generations are buried here, and until your arrival, that heritage was going to end with my death. Now I can die with peace. Even if you choose not to live here, it will always be yours, and hopefully, the generations that come after.”
Sonora was too moved to speak. All she managed to do was nod and then look away.
Franklin sighed. “I did not mean to upset you, but these are things you must know.”
Sonora’s voice was shaking, but she looked him square in the eyes. “And by the same token, you cannot know what this means to me. I have lived twenty-nine years without belonging anywhere or to anyone. Now to have been given both at the same time is almost more than I can comprehend. I’m not upset. I’m overwhelmed.”
Franklin relaxed, then patted her hand. “Then this is good, yes?”
Sonora sighed. “Yes, this is good.”
“So…would you mind very much if, from time to time, I called you daughter?”
Sonora blinked away tears. “I would be honored. And for the same reasons, it would be wonderful to know I could call you Dad.”
There was a time in Franklin’s life when he would have hesitated to let someone see him cry, but that time had long since passed. His eyes filled with tears as he took her in his arms and held her.
They might have stayed there longer, but Sonora felt his body trembling and knew it was from fatigue. Without calling attention to his weakness, she claimed exhaustion on her own.
“I hate to be the party pooper, but this has been a long day. If you don’t mind, I think I’d like to go to bed.”
“Of course,” Franklin said, and got up as she stood.
“So…you invited Adam for breakfast, didn’t you?”
Franklin grinned.
“Quit that,” she muttered. “I’m just asking so I won’t oversleep. That would be rude.”
“Oh, definitely, that would be rude,” Franklin said, and then they both laughed out loud. “He’ll probably show up around nine. He knows I don’t get up as early as I used to.”
“I’m a pretty good cook,” Sonora said. “If you show me where stuff is, I’d love to make the meal.”
Franklin