Lisa Childs - Father by Surprise - A Man of Distinction / His Baby Surprise

And to think, just a half hour ago, Nick had been sure Tanya didn’t play any games. Well, she’d played him—right into a corner. And the only way out was through her.

So he went on the offensive. He couldn’t help it. She had him trapped, so he had to do an end-run. “How many of those people know I’m Bear’s father? No one at the office seems to have a clue.”

It worked. “What?”

“My own mother never mentioned you had a kid. Did you tell people you had a one-night stand after a weekend of drinking? Immaculate conception? Who did you name as the father?”

If he were half the lawyer he thought he was, he wouldn’t be letting the crestfallen look on her face make him feel the slightest bit guilty. She’d backed him into a corner—he’d just returned the favor. He should not feel bad for her.

But he did, damn it all. Her eyes watered, but he had to admire her self-control, which kept those tears from spilling over. “He was small,” she said, the fierceness in her voice at odds with the wounded expression on her face. “People assumed he was premature. No one suspects you.” She spat the last word out like she’d expected to eat some chocolate and gotten a Brussels sprout instead. “And I don’t expect you to come to the powwow. I wouldn’t want you to debase yourself. God forbid you act like an Indian, Nick. God forbid you be an Indian.”

He watched her storm back into her dinky house and slam the door. At least he’d been right about one thing. No one in Chicago talked to him like Tanya did.

He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

Tanya walked around the outside of the dance circle. Well, walked was a strong word. She lurched around it, with Bear holding on to both of her hands as he smiled at everyone and every thing—even a bear headdress got a grin. The elders sitting in lawn chairs patted Bear on the head; a few dancers in full regalia swooped him up and spun him around. The red, black and yellow fringe on Bear’s dance shirt whipped around him, almost as if the yarn was laughing out loud for him.

She loved coming to the powwows. When she’d been younger, she’d competed in the fancy shawl dance, her fringe spinning as much as Bear’s did this afternoon. However, now that she was older, she preferred to do the traditional dance. The fringe still swayed, but not with the same fervor.

Tanya chatted with people as they made the rounds. Socializing was a huge part of the powwow, but she also took mental notes on who needed to have a hot meal delivered or who was in danger of having their power shut off this winter. One of the reasons she stuck with the receptionist job at the Tribal Council was that Councilwoman Mankiller would sit down with her once a month and listen to Tanya’s “news from the front,” as she called it. If there was enough money in the budget, Councilwoman Mankiller authorized Tanya to pay an electric bill or do the grocery shopping for the elders. It wasn’t a lot, but Tanya could say she was making life better for her tribe, one meal at a time. That was why she’d wanted to be on the Council in the first place—once she had some real power, she’d be able to move up from one meal, one bill at a time to wider initiatives. She’d love to get a real grocery store opened on the rez—that would bring in some local jobs and provide better food choices than what was available at the Qwik-E Mart gas station. But she had to build up considerable political capital to do that. That was why she hadn’t taken Rosebud Armstrong up on her offer to be the legal secretary for her private practice. Tanya had to pay her dues, and she wanted to stay on the front lines where she could make a difference now.

Of course, her position as a receptionist in the Council office was also good on-the-job training for when Tanya ran for the Council. She had already learned which members always voted no, which ones were vulnerable and which ones were untouchable in an election. She hoped that in two or three years, she’d be in a solid position to make her first run. And part of solidifying that position was making a positive impression on both the voting members of the tribe and the Council itself now, although she hated to qualify her good deeds in such a selfish way. She was making a dent—that was what really counted.

Still, Nick’s presence had complicated things—and that was putting it mildly. She’d never been able to say no to him, so the fact that she hadn’t let him kiss her the other night was, well, weird. Tanya was proud of herself for not letting Nick charm her into something she would regret. She was sticking to her guns. It made her feel surprisingly grown-up.

But she also felt terrible, and she wasn’t exactly sure why. Nick was trying—in his materialistic kind of way—and she felt as if she was slamming every door in his face. She wanted to be glad to see him. She wanted to be happy he was interested in their son. She desperately wanted something good to come out of this. What, she didn’t know. Maybe that was the problem.

The emcee called for all dancers to line up for the opening dance. Tanya slow-walked Bear to the end of the line, where he tried to grab the jingle cones off the dress in front of him. Everyone laughed, and Tanya had a moment of profound peace with the situation. She belonged here, and so did Bear. This place, these traditions, these people—they were a part of her. She wouldn’t turn her back on them.

The emcee was in the middle of the opening prayer when Tanya felt something change, like lightning had struck nearby. She glanced around, but no one else seemed to notice the strange charge to the air.

Then she saw him. Nick Longhair was on the other side of the circle watching her. He had one boot-clad foot on the lowest rung of the fence, and an expensive-looking cowboy hat tipped back on his head. The jeans were dark, the T-shirt was tight and the belt buckle shone in the sunlight. He looked like the old Nick, dressed up fancy for a big date. A more expensive version of the old Nick, that was. But the sight of him was enough to make her light-headed. Not the old Nick. A better Nick.

Tanya gasped when his eyes locked on to hers. He’d come. He was really here. Or she was hallucinating, but if this was a dream, it was the best dream she could imagine. He wasn’t so ashamed of his heritage that he wouldn’t even put in an appearance at a powwow. He wasn’t so ashamed of her that he wouldn’t be seen in public with her.

The drumming started, and the line began to move into the dance circle. Nick stayed where he was. A few people came up to talk to him, and from what Tanya could see as she and the other dancers moved around the circle, Nick was being friendly instead of standoffish. He shook hands and slapped the backs of a couple of guys who Tanya recognized as old classmates. He even seemed to smile as people pointed to his short hair. He didn’t look resentful or act like he was here against his will. Maybe he was faking it—she wouldn’t put it past him, not after she’d seen the look of horror on his face when she’d suggested he come to the powwow in the first place. But if he was faking it, at least he had the decency to fake it well.

Finally, the opening dance ended. Nick had moved around to the entrance to wait for them. “Hiya, Tanya.” He had the gall to tip his hat.

That irritating light-headedness got less light. She could feel the pressure of dozens of eyeballs boring into her back. Everyone knew they’d once been an item. Everyone knew she had a child. As far as everyone knew, Nick didn’t know about Bear until this very moment.

Clearly, everyone was waiting for a scene.

Tanya was frozen. She should do something—what, exactly, eluded her—but she couldn’t even open her mouth. Nick didn’t jump into the gap either. He stood with his hands on his hips, a smile that was more of a challenge than a greeting on his face. Your move, his dancing eyes seemed to say to her. But she had no move to make.