Birthright

form their traditions, build their societies in the way . . .”
    And the man wasn’t asking for a damn lecture. “Actually, it started when I was a kid. My father’s part Apache, part English, part French Canadian. My mother’s part Irish, Italian and German and French. That’s a lot mixed into one. So how do you get there? All those pieces have a trail back. I like following trails.”
    “And you’re helping Callie follow hers now.”
    Everything stilled for a moment. He could feel Vivian stiffen beside him even as he saw Callie lift a hand, lay it on her father’s in a gesture of gratitude.
    “Yeah. She doesn’t like help, so you have to badger her.”
    “We raised her to be independent, and she took it very much to heart.”
    “Then you didn’t intend to raise her to be stubborn, hardheaded and obstinate?”
    Elliot pursed his lips, then sipped his wine with a gleam of humor in his eyes. “No, but she had her own ideas about that.”
    “I call it being self-sufficient, confident and goal-oriented.” Callie broke off a piece of bread, nibbled. “A real man wouldn’t have a problem with it.”
    He passed her the butter. “Still here, aren’t I?”
    She buttered a piece of bread, handed it to him. “Got rid of you once.”
    “That’s what you think.” He shifted back to Elliot. “Are you planning to come by the dig while you’re here?”
    “Yes indeed. Tomorrow, if that’s convenient for both of you.”
    “If you’ll excuse me a minute.” Vivian pushed back from the table. As she rose, she laid a hand on Callie’s shoulder, squeezed.
    “Ah . . .I’ll go with you. What?” she hissed as they walked away from the table. “I’ve never understood this girl thing about going to the john in groups.”
    “There’s probably some anthropological basis for it. Ask Jacob.” Inside the rest room, Vivian did indeed take out her compact. “You’re twenty-nine years old. You’re in charge of your own life. But despite everything, I’m still your mother.”
    “Of course you are.” Worried, Callie stepped in, pressed her cheek to Vivian’s. “Nothing changes that.”
    “And as your mother, I exercise the right to stick my nose into your business. Are you and Jacob reconciled?”
    “Oh. Well. Hmmm. I don’t know if that’s a word that will ever apply to me and Jake. But we’re sort of together again. In a way.”
    “Are you sure this is what you want, and not because your emotions are in turmoil?”
    “He’s always been what I wanted,” Callie said simply.“I can’t explain why. We messed it up so bad the first time.”
    “You’re still in love with him?”
    “I’m still in love with him. He makes me mad, and he makes me happy. He challenges me, and this time, either because he’s trying harder or because I’m letting him, he comforts me. I know we’re divorced, and I hadn’t seen him in almost a year. I know the things I said when we broke up, and I meant them. Or I wanted to mean them. But I love him. Does that make me crazy?”
    Vivian brushed a hand over Callie’s hair. “Whoever said love is supposed to be sane?”
    Callie let out a half laugh. “I don’t know.”
    “It isn’t always, and it isn’t always comfortable. But it is, almost always, a hell of a lot of work.”
    “We didn’t put much work into the first time. Neither one of us really suited up for it.”
    “You had good sex. Please.” Vivian leaned back against the sink when Callie registered surprise. “I’ve had plenty of good sex myself. You and Jacob have a strong physical attraction to each other. He’s good in bed?”
    “He’s . . . he’s excellent.”
    “That’s important.” Vivian turned to the mirror, dusted powder on her nose. “Passion matters and sex is a vital form of communication in a marriage, as well as a pleasure. But equally important, from my point of view, is that he’s sitting out there with your father. He came here with us tonight, and he didn’t want to. That tells me he’s willing to work. You make sure you shovel your own load, and the two of you may just have something.”
    “I wish . . . I wish I’d talked to you about him before. About us before.”
    “So do I, baby.”
    “I wanted to do it myself. To make it work, to handle it all. I messed up.”
    “I’m sure you did.” She laid her hands on Callie’s cheeks. “But I’m also absolutely certain he messed up more.”
    Callie grinned. “I love you, Mom.”
    C allie waited for his