And his mother's soft voice.
"You must learn to smile at the taunts, my love, for they are only testing you. And courage is not always in violence, Lee, but in the dignity to stand against it. You needn't call people names in return. You are part Blackfoot. And part German American. Be very proud of them both. You are young, Lee. But you know that your father and your grandfather are two of the finest men living__"
He had started playing the drums then.And started gymnastics. The two had settled his restless soul, and he had found the peace--and price--that he had sought.
There had been attacks of a different variety when the band had formed.Professors who ranted against the new music and said that Lee was wasting a God-given talent with "noise."
The service and military action in theMiddle Easthad put hold on things, but when he had come back, it had been his father who set his mind at ease.
"Each man follows his own path--his own destiny, if you will. And only he is responsible for the choice.
You know where your heart longs to fly; give it wings."
And so the group had formed. Each year they knew one another better; the music grew. Their lyrics grew. The crawl to the top was slow, but steady. Their talents had blossomed along with them.
But then there had beenVictoria..,.
Violet eyed, golden-haired.Fragile and beautiful.He had met her on tour inBostonand fallen violently in love.
"She is very, very, delicate, like thin crystal," his father had warned. Lee hadn't cared; he had been madly in love.Victoriawas everything that he was not. So fair, so ethereal, so lovely... Too fair; too fragile. The first years were good ones; he still liked to think so. But then he had taken her to theBlack Hills, and he had had to bring her to the hospital in the middle of the night because a bear had brought on a case of severe hysteria. ...
Was it that night that she had turned from him? Or the night of the breakin at theirFt.Lauderdalehome?
He had crept up on the robber and wrestled him to the ground.Victoriahad screamed and screamed.
Whatshould he have done, he demanded. Let the guy rob the place and perhaps attack them in their Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
sleep? No argument did any good; he had become a "savage." And no matter how softly he spoke, or how gently he touched her, she claimed that he was rough...and savage. He left her alone, baffled and hurt. And he had taken her to doctor after doctor, because he had never stopped loving her.
Then hadcome the shock of learning that she was pregnant, when he hadn't touched her in countless months. Strange, but he hadn't been furious, just horribly confused. And hurt to the depths of his soul. He talked toher, he promised her that things would be okay, that they would raise the child together and learn to trust each other again.... Where had he failed?
In his sleep he covered his head with his hands and began rocking as the pain threatened to rip apart his insides again. He would never, never forget the doctor calling.Victoriawas dead. She had tried to abort the baby herself.... Somehow none of it had gotten into the papers. He had returned to theBlack Hillsand slowly nursed the deep and bitter wound with his grandfather's wisdom.
"Along our chosen paths, we all meet up with demons. We must meet them, and battle them, even when they are nothing but mist in the night. Your wife could not meet her demons, and you could not battle them for her with all your strength, for such demonslurk in the soul. But now you must battle those that plague your own soul."
Lee shot up in the bed, suddenly wide awake. His skin was covered with perspiration, despite the coolness of the night.
He slid his legs over the side of the bed and padded silently out to the terrace, naked. The fresh breeze cooled his damp flesh, and the last vestiges of his dreams were swept away.
There was a full moon rising, he noted.Shadowed to silver by drifting clouds. It would rain tomorrow he thought. There might even be some snow in the mountains. Damn her!
The thought flashed thought his mind even as he tried not to allow it. Damn Bryn Keller.
Damn her to a thousand hells....
No, he thought with a soft sigh. It wasn't her fault that he had felt more than fascination. Each time he saw her, he saw something new. Her beauty was in her movement, in the determined straightness of her spine, in her eyes when she pleaded that Adam was not a bad child, just lost and lonely and groping....
"We're all groping, Miss Keller," he said softly to the night breeze. "But if you would just let me touch you... You hold so desperately to your independence and pride. I wouldn't take those from you. I would just be there... a hand, a heart, to reach across and lift you when you stumble...."