Redeeming Rafe (18 page)

This time he did not let her step away from him. He grasped her shoulders. “Not like us?”

Her face went to heartbroken misery. “Not like us.”

Not like us.
The words went straight through him and made him consider where they might take him.

But give up bull riding? Impossible. Or was it? Really, how much longer was he good for anyway? He’d be thirty-one in a few months, and that was a senior citizen in the rodeo world. He’d figured he could push it to thirty-five. In terms of remaining healthy, he’d been lucky, but how much longer could he push that luck?

Parenting was hard enough without trying to do it from a wheelchair—and impossible to do from the grave. He’d meant what he said about working, but he wasn’t proud, and he didn’t need to be as rich as Jackson and Gabe. He owned a quarter of Beauford Bend and Around the Bend. Hell, he’d replace white lights in trees and pass fancy food at parties if he had to. He’d done it before. Taking orders from Emory would be no different from taking them from his aunt. He had his savings, and maybe it was time he made some better investments, as Jackson and Gabe had been griping about forever.

There were plenty of cowboys who said they’d never stop, that it was in their blood, but that wasn’t true of Rafe. He had proven he could hold on to just about any bull for eight seconds, but he didn’t think like the cowboys who had it in their blood, didn’t even dress the part when he was away from that world.

Maybe that was the difference in being born into the rodeo life. He hadn’t been of course, but Aunt Amelia had let him go to bull riding school in Nashville as soon as he’d turned fourteen. Later, when he proved he was a natural and started competing with the Tennessee High School Association, she’d regretted her decision. He remembered her saying more than once, “It scares me to death, but I thought it would be a lark. But how could I say no? He works so hard for Around the Bend and never asks for anything.”

He hadn’t asked for anything else, because he hadn’t wanted anything else—until now. He’d been asked many times why he rode, but he’d never told the truth. It wasn’t the money, the crowd, or, as Abby believed, the adrenaline. In the beginning, it had been novel and exciting, but even then, the desire had come from the blinding need to prove his courage. But in truth, did he need to do that anymore? It had been a long time since he’d been afraid on the back of a bull. And hadn’t he fooled the world into thinking he was no coward?

These days, his fear came from his girls sleeping down the hall and the woman standing in front of him. Maybe it was time this battle with fear took on a more personal journey. Maybe it was time to stay here and learn how to not be afraid of real life.

Not like us. Us
. He wanted her. He needed her. For the first time in his life, it dawned on him that there was a difference.

“Then I’ll do it, Abby. I’ll give up bull riding.”

Abby pulled the triplet stroller out of the back of the new van and started buckling kids in. She was getting pretty good at this. Bella went in the front seat because she was a hair puller, Alice in the middle because she needed to be able to see Bella, and Phillip in the rear because that’s what was left.

Usually, going to town was more trouble than it was worth. But this morning she’d woken full of energy, with the need to get out and about now that fall had finally arrived. Besides, with a week until Halloween, the kids needed costumes—or Bella and Alice did. When he’d ordered helmets and protective riding gear for the kids, Rafe had gotten Phillip a full cowboy ensemble, including hat, chaps, and boots. Phillip might as well wear that for the Beauford Harvest Festival. Last year, at her friends’ urging, Abby had gone to the street fair, had even put Phillip in the pumpkin costume her mother had sent, but she’d been sad and tired.

This year it would be different. She and Rafe would bring the children. Maybe the two of them would dress up, too. Though on second thought, probably not. During the last three weeks, she’d learned about some things that Rafe was not willing to do—wear pink, carry an umbrella, or use body wash, even if it was made for men. It was a fair bet he wasn’t going to dress up like a ghost or pirate for Halloween. At the thought, she laughed out loud, which also made the kids howl with laughter. Was it her imagination, or were they happier these days, too? At first, Abby had been skeptical about Rafe’s promise, but he’d called his agent—though she hadn’t known he even had an agent—and told him to announce that he was retiring due to his new single parent status. More than that, he didn’t seem to have any regrets or be looking back. And Jackson was over the moon.

As for Rafe and Abby—it seemed they were, indeed, “going steady”—sans belt buckle. Though they hadn’t told anyone about their relationship yet, it was just a matter of time before everyone knew. Rafe didn’t even shower in his own room anymore, much less sleep there. And she didn’t want him to.

“Where’s my daddy?” Alice asked looking around.

“He’s working on the stable,” Abby said. “We’ll see him later.”

“Ride the Snow Pony?” Phillip said.

“Soon,” Abby said. Yesterday, the protective gear Rafe had ordered for the children had come in, and he had led them around on Snowball for a bit while she’d walked along and held them in the saddle. Though he had finally allowed Carter a turn, Dirk had been apprehensive because of their age. Having had riding lessons as a young child, Abby had no such misgivings, and she saw it as a good sign that Rafe was learning to trust himself with them.

The fall wind picked up, and Abby paused to button Bella’s sweater since she tended to be more cold natured than the other two.

“What beautiful children.”

Abby looked up to see a woman holding a huge shopping bag from Piece by Piece.

“Thank you.” Abby had grown accustomed to the children attracting attention from strangers. She nodded at the woman’s bag. “I see you’ve been shopping at my friend Noel’s shop.”

“Yes. I drive over from Atlanta a couple of times a year to buy my quilting supplies. Noel is the best.”

“Did you see Neyland’s jewelry display while you were in Piece by Piece? It’s all custom made.”

“Beautiful!” the woman said. “But I spent all my money on fabric. Maybe next time I come to Beauford, I’ll budget for a little something sparkly. Neyland said she was moving into her own shop after the football and hockey seasons are over. She said she was engaged to a football player. Noel’s married to a hockey player, and they take turns traveling to road games and watching the shop. Me? I don’t pay attention to sports.”

It still amazed Abby how these Southerners told everyone their business. “I’m sure your quilting keeps you busy.”

“I’ll bet you don’t have time for sports, either. Are all of them yours? Are they triplets?”

This woman wasn’t the first to ask that. With their coloring, the children looked enough alike to be taken for siblings, but Abby wasn’t interested in divulging information about Jackson and Gabe Beauford’s nieces. She doubted if this quilt maker used her spare time to kidnap the children of the rich and famous, but anything was possible—at least that’s what Dirk said.

“For certain, I have my hands full,” she said evasively.

“Mama!” Not Phillip, but Bella, called. This had been going on for about two weeks now, and every time it happened, Abby’s gut vacillated between joy and uneasiness. At first, the girls had called her nothing. She’d tried to teach them to call her Abby, but that must have confused them since Phillip called her Mama—and, evidently, they’d decided if it was good enough for Phillip it was good enough for them. And soon after, following the girls’ example, Phillip had started calling Rafe Daddy. She’d been worried that it would make Rafe uncomfortable, but he’d just laughed and said when Phillip was older he’d learn who his father was.

“What, baby?” she asked, looking into Bella’s sweet face. How could she bathe, feed, and hold this child and
not
feel like her mother? But on the other hand, she wasn’t their mother, no matter how many blissful hours she spent in their father’s arms. And it was blissful—so blissful that she was afraid it wouldn’t last. Ironic, that she’d never feared that with Gregory. She’d known death would part them; she just hadn’t known it would be so soon.

“Drink,” Bella demanded.

“Lovely to talk with you,” Abby said to the quilter as she fished the sippy cup of apple juice out of her bag and passed it from child to child. She’d given up trying to stop them from drinking after each other long ago.

“Okay. Let’s go see about those Halloween costumes,” Abby said to the children. “Then maybe we’ll stop by and see Aunt Neyland and Aunt Noel.”

As she wheeled down the street toward Sugar and Spice, the children chattered to each other.

“Pip! Allie!” Then Bella shifted into some sort of toddler speak that Abby didn’t understand, but Phillip and Alice must have because they died laughing.

“Oh!” Alice squealed and began to applaud. “Pretty!”

“Red!” Phillip shouted.

“Scary ball!” Bella said.

Abby looked up to discover the object of their delight. It wasn’t red, and it wasn’t a ball, but it certainly was pretty—a work of art, in fact, like every piece of stained glass Heath Beckett made.

She pushed the stroller closer to the front window of Heath’s shop, Spectrum.

“Orange,” Abby said, pointing to the giant sun catcher. “This is a pumpkin made into a jack-o’-lantern.” But this wasn’t an ordinary jack-o’-lantern. This one was wearing a top hat with a bat on top, and he had stars for eyes and a crooked grin that was almost sweet. He looked like he was in love. Abby laughed at herself. A jack-o’-lantern couldn’t be in love. She was projecting. Still, leave it to Heath to make such a whimsical design. Gregory wouldn’t have put the effort into something so fanciful. He was more given to mosaics, classic designs, and art nouveau. Heath had always said that once he stopped taking himself so seriously, Gregory would make a fine glass artist. Gregory had not been best pleased when Heath had told him his technique was excellent, but he kept trying to reproduce things that had already been done and better.

“Uncle Jack?” Alice looked confused.

“No, sweetheart. Jack-o’-lantern,” Abby corrected.

“Uncle Jack-o!” This time Alice nodded when she said it, as if to say,
“Got it.”
Close enough.

Phillip pointed to the stack of real pumpkins sitting on a hay bale beside Spectrum’s front door. “Not Jack-o?”

“Not yet.” Abby bent and kissed her son’s head. “You’re so smart. Did you know that?”

“He should be. He has a smart mama.”

Abby looked up to see Heath standing in the open door of Spectrum.

“Hello, Heath.” She had always liked Heath, and, despite his blunt, constructive criticism of Gregory’s work, Heath and Gregory had had a warm relationship—or as warm as anyone had with Heath. But Abby had come to associate Heath with the darkest time of her life and had avoided him. She felt none of that now. “I’ve missed seeing you.” And that was true.

He brushed his messy, tawny hair away from his face and gave her one of his rare smiles. “So much so that you were going to come in?” He’d offered her a job after Gregory died, but she’d turned him down. Aside from needing distance from Heath and the place where Gregory had pursued his dreams, Abby knew Heath didn’t need help in the shop beyond his apprentices and the high school kids who worked random hours here and there. More than that, he didn’t want someone underfoot full time—or really ever. Heath was a loner. “It’s been a while.”

She’d last seen him when he’d brought a client into Mill Time for lunch.

Abby motioned to the stroller. “I travel in a pack these days.”

He stepped onto the sidewalk, nodded to the girls, and patted Phillip’s head. “Hi, Phillip. Where’s Poppy hiding?”

“Poppy home. He sleepy,” Phillip said. Lately, Phillip had been less attached to Poppy, really only demanded him at bedtime.

Heath turned to Abby. “Come in. I’ll make you some tea. And I like a pack.”

She laughed. “That’s a lie.”

“No,” he deadpanned. “I have tea.” He picked up the front of the stroller. “Want a ride?”

Bella clapped. “Go fast!”

Abby guided the stroller inside. “The shop looks nice.”

“Now who’s lying?” Heath went behind the counter and popped a pod into the coffee maker. “Irish breakfast?” He didn’t wait for her reply. “The shop’s a mess. And my workroom is worse.”

That was true—but not entirely fair. “I think it’s a treasure trove. I doubt if Ali Baba’s cave was any neater.” The shop was filled with glass art supplies, books, tools, and, of course, finished works—a few by Heath himself, though he worked mostly by commission. “It’s an interesting, busy place. You can feel the creativity, almost taste it in the air.” She fished some small toys and a container of goldfish crackers out of her bag. “Do you mind if the kids eat in here?”

He handed her the mug of tea. “You’re kidding, right?”

The floor
did
need sweeping.

She settled onto a stool. “You did the jack-o’-lantern in the window, didn’t you?”

He nodded. “Odd, huh? I got a wild hair.” He popped another pod into the machine. This time, the smell of coffee filled the air.

“Not so odd. The kids loved it.”

He pulled a stool up beside her. “Cute kids.”

“They are,” she said. “They look like Rafe.”

He took a sip of his coffee and fixed his light brown eyes on hers. They weren’t bad eyes. Some would call them whiskey colored. Actually, they were quite nice; they just weren’t huge and blue with lashes that went on forever.

“So, I hear you and Rafe are together.”

Her head snapped up so fast, it was a wonder she hadn’t given herself whiplash.

“Not who I would have expected for you, Abby,” Heath carried on. “But it’s great. I don’t know Rafe except in passing, but the Beaufords are good folks.”

“Where did you hear this?”

“Is it not true?”

“I didn’t say that.” It wasn’t as if it was a secret, and it wasn’t as if they had agreed not to tell anyone. They were just living their lives and living inside themselves.