Dawn Rising

Alex whisked a brush through her thick, crimson waves and gathered them up into a ponytail, banding them tightly at the nape of her neck. After applying concealer to the dark rings under her eyes, disappointed with the results. She brushed a light topcoat of powder across the bridge of her nose and to her cheeks. She shimmied into the dark brown, woolen pants and jacket outfit chosen for work the night before. The beige silk shell under the jacket did nothing for her pallor. The forest green one would look better against her red hair and would make her brown eyes pop. But, she thought with a shrug, at least she was dressed. Looks came secondary to getting to work reasonably on time.

She eyed the gleaming, black, metal of the cane, resting in its corner by the front door of her apartment with menace. She and the cane were not friends. The desire to be normal and not to be seen as an invalid overruled common sense, her limp, and the throbbing in her limb. Just as she was gathering her purse and sliding her stocking feet into a pair of sensible brown loafers, her cell phone rang.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," she said into the phone, not bothering with hello. Nobody called her at this time of the morning except for one person. "Don't worry. I know it's my turn to buy." She got the same call every morning. The call that sometimes sent her rushing for the front door dressing as she went, and sometimes simply gave her the strength to get her shit together and get on the proverbial bus of life.

She and her best friend Janine hopped the eight- fifteen commuter train everyday, riding together to the Midtown Station. From there, they walked, parting company a few blocks later. Janine was an accountant at a very prosperous firm. Alex was curator of the Native American Exhibits at the Museum of History. Not exactly power careers, but at least their jobs paid the rent.

Approaching the coffee shop, Alex glanced at her watch and blew out a relieved breath. Almost late...again. Her limp, courtesy of the oncoming storm, had really slowed her down this morning. Janine stood at their corner, juggling two large mocha latte's and her ATM card. "Sorry, I'm late again," Alex apologized sheepishly. Janine shrugged her shoulders in reply, shaking her heedful of short springy blonde curls, dismissing the apology as she handed her a paper cup of steaming coffee.

Sometimes, Alex envied Janine. They were total opposites. Janine was in a word...cute. Pixie sized, with a tiny waist and small bone structure, Janine barely topped five-foot four. Expertly engineered curls, manipulated into soft ringlets around her face, the strands dyed in various shades of blonde for the ultimate effect, highlighted her button nose and cherubic face. The makeup, Janine would not be caught dead without, exemplified her wide blue eyes, the color of a sunlit ocean, thanks to contact lenses, and plumped her pouty lips to maximum fullness. Janine worked with what she had and chose colors and clothing styles that made her look chic without appearing overstated and unapproachable.

She was outgoing and energetic while Alex was reserved and way, way too shy. Janine never had a shortage of dates on Saturday nights. Alex usually stayed at home curled up on the couch with a good novel. Janine went through men the way Alex went through books, one after the other. Alex had a stack of books piled up on her nightstand. And Janine's address book was filled to the point of bursting. Maybe their differences were what made them best friends. Someone with similar tastes and standards would not be able to tolerate their individual quirks and habits.

Janine and Alex walked the short distance to the train station, sipping at their coffee as they waded through the throngs of commuters clad in dismal shades of black and gray. Janine noticed Alex's slower, limping gait. "Would you rather catch a cab this morning?" she asked. The concern in her voice was carefully hidden behind a lilt of lightheartedness. "It's my treat. Visa, its everywhere you want to be." She hated to see her BFF in pain. Hated Alex's stubborn refusal to use the cane and take the pills that could ease her suffering. Alex seemed to revel in her martyrdom. And sometimes, Janine wanted to kick her square in the butt with the pointy toe of her shoe for that.

Alex shrugged her off, "Nah, it is always worse when the weather is going to be bad. If you need to, go on ahead. I can catch the next train." Stubbornly, she bit her bottom lip against the throbbing limb and determinedly sped her gait.

Janine glanced at the diamond and 14K gold watch on her right wrist, a gift from...heck she couldn't remember his name. But, she loved this watch, and frowned. She had no idea why it mattered what time accountants got to work. It wasn't like her work wasn't going to be waiting for her when she got there. But, her boss operated under the strict belief that it mattered...a lot. "You know I love ya girl, but I really can't be late again. I am already in hot water at work." Dropping a casual peck on Alex's cheek, she plunged ahead into the drone like masses shuffling them.

Janine turned on a stiletto heel. The commuters flowed around her like a current around a rock. A very irritated current. Waving wildly to catch Alex's attention, she called out, "How 'bout dinner this week?" With a nod, Alex accepted the invitation and watched Janine's petite form disappear, swallowed up by the throng.

Alex took a deep breath and watching it puff from in between her lips into the frosty air, slowed her steps. Relieved. The pain wasn't so bad if she took it easy. She looked up at the cold, bleak sky and the black clouds condensing over her head. "Damn," she muttered under her breath. The next train wouldn't be for another half-hour. The storm would be raining down on her head before then.

Reluctantly, Alex fished out a couple of bucks from her handbag and waited in line at the newsstand to buy a morning paper. Reading would keep her mind occupied while she waited.

Pretending to be transfixed in the daily news would also prevent the random, awkward conversations that, inevitably, some stranger waiting for the same train tried to start. She did not do idle talk. Shivering beneath her wool coat, she flipped open the paper and read about another unexplained disappearance. Police were baffled. Yeah, she thought. Tie a donut around the woman's neck and the cops would find her.

"Finally," Alex muttered under her breath as the train pulled into the station some forty-five minutes, another latte, and a second go through the morning paper, later. She elbowed and shoved her way into the crowd, rushing through its doors, like cattle through a chute. Rolling her eyes, she joined the nameless, faceless herd. Scrambling for a seat instead of standing, she landed on the hard plastic bench and felt the train jolt beneath her as it took off. Her early morning wake up call was catching up with her. Bleary eyed, she rested her head back against the window and stifled a yawn. Wearily, her lids drifted shut. Before she knew it, she slipped off into slumber and back into the dream.

The acrid stench of smoke surrounded her as she lifted her head up from the ground. Ignoring the smears of her blood and throbbing agony in her leg, she slid along the ground toward the car. Gravel and chunks of shattered glass bit into her palms. Weeds dried from the harsh winter past hissed against the satin of her dress. He called out her name over and over again, an agonized wail, "Alex, Alex." Moaning, she tried her best to pull battered body along the shoulder of the road. The boom and the intense heat and light of the explosion forced her to shield her head with her arms. Debris from the car showered down on her in a rain of twisted, smoldering metal and rubber. The stink of burning flesh filled her nostrils.

With a jolt she awoke staring into the concerned face of a commuter. He gently shook her arm, "Hey, are you ok?" Embarrassed, she gingerly smiled, nodding. Her cheeks flooded with shame. Sleeping on a commuter train, no matter how jammed packed, wasn't safe. It was stupid. The man, just slightly into adulthood, ducked behind a thatch of thick, sleek, sandy-brown hair and ignored her reply in favor of a text message from the phone in his hand.

Saved from further shame, the brakes of the train engaged, jerking the car to a stop and the doors whisked open with a soft hiss. "Thanks," she mumbled to the stranger, The Mad Texter, she decided to call him. He barely glanced up from his cell phone to acknowledge that she'd taken the time to thank him. Alex pushed to her feet. The leg was aching, worse for wear from the twenty-minute ride on the train. Swept into the current of commuters, she disembarked. She was at her stop.

The two-block walk to the museum was a miserable one. Cold rain drizzled down from the gray skies above. She shivered, tugging her wool hat down tighter against her scalp. Grateful and relieved by the sight of the tinted glass doors of the tan, brick structure just ahead of her. Gathering her composure, pasting on her best, most professional, smile. The one she saved for her coworkers. She slid through the employee entrance at the far end of the building and dug in her purse for her badge.

The contents of her purse were a collage of lipsticks, tampons, crumpled receipts, ink pens, loose change, and everything else, except for her employee ID. With a wide, apologetic, "hey I'm just a girl" smile, she gestured to the door. The guard, a real stickler for the rules, usually, decided to give her a break for once, and buzzed her in.

Chapter 2

Alex fumbled with her keys and unlocked the door to her office. "Great," she mumbled to herself, frowning at the furiously blinking message light on her phone. With an ungracious flop into her chair, which wobbled precariously from her sudden descent. She dialed her secret code and waited. The chair was ancient, the fabric the color of mustard and so worn in places the foam padding of its seat poked through. The museum had been under serious budget cuts lately, and obviously, new office furniture had not been a priority. That was ok. The chair matched her scratched, dented desk, the color of silly putty, and the grungy, celery-green walls to a T.

A voice on the other end called to confirm the appointment for ten o'clock today. Anxiously, she turned looking at the clock. How could she have forgotten something this important? Frowning down at her outfit, the plain brown of her pants and jacket and the bland silk shell underneath, she regretted not wearing something...better. Alex squashed the panic that ran through her. Had to focus on the meeting. She had an hour to get herself together.

Nervously, she smoothed down the wayward strands of her ponytail and tugged at the hem of her jacket. Her division of the museum was a small one, not like the wooly mammoth exhibit, which packed them in like droves. And like everything else in the country, its budget had been cut to less than half. She was asking for a sizable contribution. At first, she had some difficulty tracking the group down. The Sons weren't exactly the type of organization to list a number in the yellow pages. Luckily, she had a few contacts and had talked her way into meeting with them.

Alex pawed through her notes, reviewing and organizing them at the same time. She hoped the vision created on paper would translate well. The theme for the exhibit was "The Great Tecumseh: Leader, Warrior, and Rebel". Nervously, she tapped her pencil on the desk, rereading the notes once more. She had to sell this thing or all it would ever be was notes on paper. Her job was on the chopping block along with the rest of her department. Peddling burgers and fries was not going to pay the rent. And, at twenty-eight, she'd be damned if she would turn tail and run back to her parents.

After what seemed like hours but was really minutes, security phoned to announce her guests had arrived. Taking one final moment to give herself a once over in the mirror, hanging on the wall, she plastered a smile on her face and headed to the main lobby to greet them.

Alex took a minute to wipe her sweaty palms on the thighs of her brown, wool slacks. She wasn't sure what a group of men called The Sons should look like. Members of the group claimed to be direct blood descendants to the legend. She doubted it. But, oh well, she wasn't here to analyze their DNA or debunk their claims, only to beg for a donation. Half-heartedly, she hoped for a group of old codgers, nostalgic, taken in by a bat of an eye and a feminine smile. An easy sell.

Her eyes widened as she rounded the corner and faced the man. Easy right? She'd been expecting to deal with an entire group. One guy shouldn't be so hard to convince to part with The Son's money...could he? The man that stood in the wide foyer of the museum's main entrance, waiting for her, idly, eying a display on prehistoric glaciers, wasn't what she'd had in mind. Not what she'd expected, not at all. There'd be no easy sell to this guy.

His stance was casual. But, an air of alertness and vigilance surrounded him. Almost as if he was tracking her every step and only pretending to read the plaque on the wall from behind the dark lenses perched on the bridge of his nose.

The sheer size of the man took her by surprise. He was huge, a living wall of muscle and flesh. His Native American lineage apparent in the silky black hair, gathered into a sleek, jet, ponytail at the nape of his neck, and his bronzed, russet -colored skin, high cheekbones, and full, broad lips. The expression on his face as he turned to the sound of the uneven clip of her shoes on the marble tile was, in a word, unreadable.

The hairs on the back of her neck bristled as she felt his watchful eyes on her, sizing her up. Alex took a minute to return the favor, stopping mid stride to look him over. She wasn't bold or outgoing by any means when it came to the opposite sex. Her cheeks heated in embarrassment as he caught her eyes traveling down his muscular body.

He was dressed non threateningly enough, in a pair of black, well fitted dress jeans that covered the width of muscular thighs snugly as a glove, riding low on his narrow hips. A button down shirt, three shades deeper than the russet brown of his skin, stretched across his broad chest. The fabric looked soft and touchable with a dull sheen beneath the dim lights of the museum's entrance. A black leather jacket, supple and gently worn, hugged his shoulders. A pair of black, lug soled boots, scuffed at the toes, completed the look and gave him the overall appearance that made her pause for a deep breath. Although, he was huge, probably twice her weight and at least a foot taller than her five-foot some odd-inch frame, there wasn't an ounce of visible fat on him. He wore his massive build like he wore his clothes, like it was made precisely for him.

Nervously, she extended her hand to him. He's just a guy, she thought. The problem was, she wasn't very good men like this, dangerous, attractive men with an attitude. Where was Janine when she needed her? The sunglasses perched on his nose unnerved her. He had yet to take them off. She was one of those people who depended on eye contact. Being unable to read his expression because she couldn't see his eyes made her all the more nervous and him, somewhat intimidating and even more unapproachable. She would not botch this up. The money was too important.

"Hi, I'm Alex," she said, smiling almost too forcefully, and way too nervously. Her hand trembled slightly as she extended it to him in greeting. His palm dwarfed her entire hand. He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze and a light pump up in down. His hands, for some reason she expected them to be rough, were soft. The grip not too hard, the way some guys liked to display their strength and clamp down so firmly that they made a person wince. Nor, was it too soft and insulting, like some other guys shook hands, as if she were a fragile flower who would wilt if he gripped too hard. His hand was warm. And the gesture, the strength and length of it, perfect. Not that her first impression of him did much for the case of butterflies in her stomach.

At his inquisitive expression, she took a deep breath and explained, "Alexandria Gray. I'm the ah, curator of Native American Exhibits." As a toddler Alex couldn't say the long version of her name and her parents shortened her name to a nickname. The nickname stuck. She blushed as she felt his eyes boring down on her. Obviously, her charms weren't working. This guy was beyond a doubt not impressed. "And you are?"

"Luc."

"Will anyone else be joining us today?" Alex asked, retrieving her hand from his huge paw. She resisted the urge to wipe her palms, bathed in sweat, on her pants. Luke, the name sounded, rather implied that he was an ok guy. His name drew up visions of Luke Skywalker in her head. But he was so not a Luke Skywalker type. Tall, dark, and handsome, more Han Solo than Luke Skywalker, beyond a doubt. She had an impression that this was not some boy from a distant planet who simply stumbled through the universe. No, this guy-this man- knew exactly who he was and precisely what his place was in the bigger picture.

The thoughts were her mind's way of dealing with her nervousness. Harried and embarrassed by the lack of an impression she made on him, she pushed the wayward images of little green Yodas and swashbuckling space pirates out of her head. Luke had yet to take the sunglasses from their perch on the bridge of his nose. She took that as a sign that this meeting was more of a formality. Something he had to do. More than that he was genuinely interested in what she had to say.

In a way, she was grateful when he gestured that he was alone. One guy couldn't be as difficult to convince as an entire group. Right? "Ah...ok. Great." She forced a wide smile, that Janine assured her was bubbly and energetic, gesturing toward the elevators. "Let's get started. The entire third floor of the building has been slated to house the exhibit."

As they waited for the elevator to arrive, she went on. She was so nervous that she bordered on babbling. "This is a very exciting time for me. Well for the museum as a whole. To have the honor of dedicating this much space, not just to Native American history. But, to a specific tribe and a specific person is very exciting. I hope you like what we've done so far." With a wide sweeping arm she ushered him into the elevator ahead of her.

She gave the tour of the exhibits, carefully pointing out the importance of each one and her plans for future development. It was always nice to point out exactly how a benefactor's money was going to be spent...wasn't it? She noted the nods and mutters of vague interest from Luke. Polite. Understated. "And over here is where the interactive display's and activities will take place for the children," Alex explained. "They will be able to make beaded headbands and play most of the same games that Shawnee children would have played. Our hope is to make all the exhibits have a hands on component to them. Make it fun for the kids...," she trailed off. More polite head bobs from Luke. She couldn't tell if his nods, mumbles, and bobs were good things or not.

Her leg was absolutely throbbing from a combination of walking and the weather change. She hoped her limp was not too noticeable. Her nervousness ramped up a notch when they rounded the final leg of the tour. Time to warm him up before she asked for that big, big check. "I have blue prints and artist's renderings of the completed exhibits for us to view later."

Alex had the dreaded feeling that she was loosing his interest. Luke was polite, pausing to look at the exhibits. But, he wasn't exactly verbalizing the enthusiasm she'd hoped for. Loosing his interest might mean loosing her donation as well. She shot her voice up a notch as she spoke, "This is where the exhibit on Tecumseh will begin." She hoped her instincts were right. She was banking on fact that blood was thicker than water with their self proclaimed relationship to the great leader to land the donation into her palm.