Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
“Certainly.” She takes his phone and smiles indulgently.
He pulls me in front of him and rests his chin on my head. She snaps the first picture. When I glance up at him, the look in his eyes warms me and melts any reserve I had left. He bends to cup my chin and kisses me tenderly. I hear her snapping the photo but couldn’t care less. I lean up into that kiss, deepen it, drag it out until she clears her throat.
“Sorry,” he says, offering her an apologetic grin. “Thank you.”
“Anything for young love,” she says wistfully and returns to her basket a few rows away.
Young love. That’s not what we have. It must be too soon for that, but we have something, and it’s making itself at home in my heart more every day, as much as I try to fight it. I try to hold myself back, remind myself that this isn’t permanent, but my heart gives me the finger and goes its own way.
“Hungry?” Maxim asks. “Food?”
“Yes, please.”
After we buy a picnic basket stuffed with wine and cheese and fruit and sandwiches, we walk our bikes down to a riverbank. He spreads the blanket, and I lay out our lunch. The sun is high, the weather mild, the air fresh, and the company? Maxim is the only person I want to be here with right now.
“Any more on your politician back home?” he asks, the strong length of him stretched out. He’s propped on one elbow, popping grapes into his mouth.
“When I got back to the hostel this morning, Mena had emailed me some things to look over.” I take a sip of wine from a disposable cup. “The pay is almost nonexistent, of course, but it would be great experience. Nighthorse is the real deal. The things he wants to do for Natives in Oklahoma are exactly what I would love to see happen everywhere. I’m impressed.”
“Think you’ll do it?”
“I told her I want to if he’s interested.”
“Oh, he will be. How could he not be?”
“We’ll see.” I shrug. “I’m with you. I can’t stand most politicians. They’re the main ones who lied to Natives. Tricked us. Betrayed us. Our own senator slipped that pipeline in at the eleventh hour for Warren Cade.”
Maxim makes a strangled sound, and when I look over at him, he’s coughing.
“You okay? Wine go down the wrong way?”
“Uh, something like that.” He stares into his cup. “Sorry. You were saying something about—”
“Warren Cade, yeah. He’s such an asshole.” I take a deep breath to counter the fury that rises every time I think about that heartless man. “But of course he’d look after his own interests. Senator Middleton was supposed to be looking after ours. I’m going to learn this system inside and out and put leaders in place who will look after what’s best for the people.”
“Who determines best, though?” Maxim crumbles a crust of bread on his napkin. “Some would argue what Middleton did created new jobs for his constituents, and that was right.”
He holds up his hands defensively when I aim a baleful look at him. “Hey, just playing devil’s advocate. Don’t shoot me.”
“I know that pipeline created jobs, but it also broke promises the government made to my people. Again. It endangers the water supply for an entire community. And you know what? They declare buildings historically protected so businesses can’t destroy them with new offices or whatever they determine means progress. That’s because someone says the value of that thing is worth more than the revenue destroying it would create. Yet every time something of ours has been declared sacred, it’s desecrated as soon as protecting it inconveniences someone in power.”
“So you want the power.”
“I want to spread it. Create it. Put it where it will be used better,” I say, indignation riding the blood in my veins. “Yes, there’s usually more than one ‘right.’ Right is relative sometimes. Not life or death or cruelty or those absolutes. All you can do is fight for the right you believe in. There aren’t enough people fighting for my people’s ‘rights.’ What is right for us and the basic rights it seems are so quickly afforded to everyone but us. That’s what I plan to spend my life fighting for.”
He smiles, and it’s almost sad.
“What?” I ask. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking,” he says, pushing my shoulder gently until I fall back on the blanket and he hovers over me, “that you are going to be so damn incredible.” Our eyes catch, and his smile fades. “And I wish I could be around to see it.”
He told me. I knew this wasn’t permanent. He said no attachments and that he would walk away, but the finality in his words hurts so much.
“You’ll be off on your expeditions, huh?” I ask, reaching up to push back the dark hair falling in his eyes. “Saving Mother Earth?”