Redeeming Rafe (23 page)

Abby opened her eyes and faced them. “What would Gregory say? We don’t know that, do we? We don’t know, because he’s dead. And why is he dead? I’ll tell you. He died because, though he had never done it before, he insisted on going spelunking with an experienced group. He was so, so sure of himself. Did you know he led them to believe he was experienced? Well, he did. And do you know what he did to prepare? Watched YouTube videos. Isn’t that brilliant and responsible? And there I was, pregnant. I begged him not to go, but he did. And he died in that cave, leaving me without a husband and Phillip without a father.”

The faces that stared at her were not angry or horrified, as she would have expected; they were blank. But that could change. She was just getting started.

“And if that wasn’t good enough, I was in such a state that I nearly died giving birth, and now I’ll never have another baby. And do I blame that on Gregory? You’re damn skippy I do. I was having a normal, healthy pregnancy until he decided to get himself killed. But I guess that’s just fine with all of you, because what you really want is for me to move back to Boston and live like a nun and worship Gregory’s memory. I won’t do it. You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t want to place my son in an environment that will make him think whatever he does is perfectly all right, no matter whose life it ruins.”

It was when she paused to breathe that Abby felt the presence and realized the air had been sucked out of the universe as only Rafe could do. The eyes that had been on her were now fixed over her shoulder.

Slowly, Abby turned to see who she knew would be there.

He wore his riding clothes, including chaps, and he pushed his damp hair off his face with the hand that wasn’t holding his hat.

She wanted nothing more than to run into his arms and beg him to take her out of the room, away from this situation.

His blue eyes left her face briefly to dart around the room. No one moved or spoke, though Rafe nodded a tentative greeting. Finally, he cleared his throat.

“I was about to take the kids out to ride the pony. I heard you in here. I guess this isn’t the best time.”

“No,” Abby said. “Not the best time.”

He paused, perhaps waiting for introductions, but she was frozen.

“I’ll just go then,” Rafe said.

“I’ll catch up with you soon.”

He turned to go.

“Rafe?” Abby said.

He didn’t speak but turned and raised his eyebrow.

“Phillip won’t be riding the pony today. He’s going into Nashville to spend the night with his grandparents.”

“All right.” Rafe nodded and walked out of the room. His riding gloves were stuck in his back pocket and seemed to be waving goodbye.

Don’t go! Or take me with you.
But neither of those things was feasible.

“He certainly could use a shower and haircut,” Susan said.

Abby rounded on her mother. “Mother. One more crack like that, and I might say something I regret.” She only hoped Rafe hadn’t heard it.

“You don’t mean the things you
have
said,” Susan said.

Had she? Maybe, maybe not.

“Thank you for letting us take Phillip,” Meg said. “You can come, too. We could do some shopping, have a nice dinner, and put this behind us.”

Because, God knows, a new pair of shoes and a filet mignon would fix this mess.

“No, Meg. I can’t. I have a job. I have little girls to take care of.” She rose. “In fact, I have to get back to them. Gwen is with them, but there’s a party here tonight that she has to get ready for. And of course you can take Phillip, so long as you don’t abscond with him again.”

Meg closed her eyes. “I knew you weren’t over that. I’ve apologized a dozen times, and you always say you are, but you aren’t.”

“I may not be, but what I said wasn’t fair. I know you won’t do that.”

Abby’s father stood up. “There’s been a lot said here today that wasn’t fair, and we’ve all had a part in it. Meg, Nate, Susan, go to the car before this gets any worse. We’ll all talk to Abby again tomorrow. I’ll get our grandson and be there soon.”

“I’ll pack a few things for him,” Abby said. “And I’ll ask Sammy to get his car seat.”

“Right.” Trip nodded.

How was that word for ironic?

Rafe washed his face and then went to sit quietly on the sofa in Abby’s room to wait.

Abby’s room. Somewhere along the way, he’d begun to think of this as their room, but things weren’t right anymore, so it was Abby’s room again. There had been some coming and going across the hall. She must be getting Phillip’s things together to spend the night with his grandparents. And he supposed she’d “catch up with him soon” like she’d said. But all he could do was wait.

He hated waiting.

Gabe wouldn’t have waited. He’d have stormed around, all up in everybody’s business until he knew what was going on. In the process, he’d probably say something stupid that would piss everyone off and get himself in all kinds of trouble, but he sure as blue flames in hell wouldn’t be waiting. And Jackson wait? On anything? Ever? There was no way to even consider that as a possibility and keep a straight face. But Jackson wouldn’t be finding out what was going on so much as dictating it, because Jackson thought he could change reality.

Who the hell knew what Beau would do, but it was something to ponder—while he waited.

Finally, the door opened, and she slipped in, hair messy, face sad, in that football jersey that was two sizes too big.

“Hi,” she said sheepishly. He stood as she approached him.

She looked as though she expected him to embrace her, but when he didn’t, she sat down heavily on the ottoman in front him and rested her chin in her cupped hands.

“Hi.” She looked hurt, and he hated himself for disappointing her, but he couldn’t touch her. Not yet. “Sorry about the lack of haircut and shower,” he said.

“Don’t pay any attention to that. I happen to know you shower on a regular basis, and I love your hair.” Her hand moved a bit, like she wanted to stroke his hair but decided not to.

“Has Phillip gone with his grandparents?”

“Yes.” She sighed. “He was okay until he realized he was going alone. But he’ll be fine. He’s adaptable.”

“I guess it was a pretty rough morning.” He settled back onto the sofa.

“Not to mention quite the surprise. I’m sorry you had to see that. I don’t know how much you heard.”

“I don’t know that either,” Rafe said, “because I don’t know how much there was.”

“Sorry I didn’t introduce you.”

“That’s okay. You hadn’t told them about us, had you?”

She dropped her eyes and shook her head. “No.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged. “Lots of reasons. What was I going to say? That we were dating? That you were my boyfriend? That’s juvenile sounding. I certainly wasn’t going to say we were sleeping together.”

“That’s fair.”

She nodded. “But I guess the main reason was I knew how it would go. And I wasn’t wrong.”

“So they know now?”

She nodded. “That
Twang
reporter and her Twitter-happy finger took care of that. Seems they took a picture us last night at The Café Down On The Corner.”

“When? What were we doing?”

She let her eyes drift to the ceiling and shook her head. “I believe it would have been when we were carefully examining each other’s tonsils. Mother follows you on Twitter by the way.”

“Shit. I forgot I have an account. My agent, Kevin, set it up and looks after it. Or did. I should have gotten it taken down already. Sorry.”

Abby shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Mother follows Jackson and Gabe, too. The story was also linked there. And it wasn’t like we were doing anything wrong. I told them that, too.”

“I guess I’m not exactly the kind of guy they had in mind for you.”

She shook her head. “It’s not personal. A Gregory clone wouldn’t have made them any happier. I’m supposed to rest in the bosom of the family and worship Gregory’s memory,” she said angrily. “But I’m sorry for the scene.”

Rafe rested his forearms on his knees and leaned forward. “I don’t care about the scene. What concerns me is how mad you are at your husband.”

“You once told me I didn’t have a mother-in-law because that would mean I had a husband—and that I couldn’t have a husband.”

“I was wrong. As long as you’re so mad at him, he exists.”

She looked puzzled. “He’s dead. Of course I’m mad about it.”

Rafe shook his head. “No. You’re not mad that he’s dead. That would be normal. You’re mad
at
him.” He dropped his eyes, because he didn’t want to see hers when he said what he had to say next in case there was truth there. “And I have to wonder if being with me is tied up in that anger, that you’re trying to pay him back for dying.”

“No.” She vehemently shook head.

When he met her eyes, he saw that she believed that. Whether it was true was a different matter.

“Look, Abby.” Rafe spread his hands. “I’m not trying to discount what you had with Gregory. I don’t expect you not to love him. He was your husband and Phillip’s father. But that kind of bitter anger isn’t good for you—or for us. If you can’t get over it, I don’t know if we can have what I hoped we were headed for.”

“And where is that, Rafe? Where do you hope we’re headed?”

“I don’t have to say it. We’ve both known it almost from the start. But you have to forgive Gregory. I understand he was first. I’ve always known that what you have with me will never be like what you had with him. But I hoped we could have something of our own.”

She closed her eyes, put her palms together, and brought her prayer-like hands to her lips. She was silent for what was probably only seconds, but seemed like hours.

Finally, she opened her eyes and spoke. “What I had with Gregory can’t be like I have with you, because I never loved him like I love you.”

They looked at each other for a long moment. “Not exactly how I expected our first declaration of love to go,” he said.

“I’m sorry. I guess there should have been a bottle of Champagne, candles, and romantic music.”

Rafe smiled. “I don’t know when that would have happened. We’re more about apple juice, a Humpty Dumpty nightlight, and ‘Itsy Bitsy Spider.’”

“I guess we are,” Abby said benignly. Then she looked hollow-eyed and sad. “It doesn’t bother you that I can’t give you a baby? Our baby?”

He shook his head. “Don’t you think we’ve got about all we can handle?”

She nodded. “Still …”

He leaned forward and let himself take her hand. It was cold.

“Listen, Abby. Don’t lament the impossible. But you and me—we’re not impossible. I’ve seen love wrestle men to the ground like a hell-bent cowboy on a mean steer. And he would fight it every bit as hard as that steer. But it wasn’t that way with me. It confused me at first, but I went easy, and I went gladly. And I’m happy to be here.”

“Champagne couldn’t have made that declaration any sweeter.” She looked quietly happy.

“Worse, in fact. I don’t like Champagne. I’m a beer drinker.”

She laughed. “I like that about you.”

This was a special moment, but something was missing. Weren’t embraces, joyful celebration, and whispered promises supposed to come with this?

“I wonder,” Rafe began. He almost didn’t say what was on his mind. It would be so easy to sweep her into his arms and just let things be and hope for the best. But he couldn’t do that, couldn’t risk ignoring what he knew. “I wonder,” he repeated, “if you like that I’m a beer drinker because Gregory wasn’t. And I wonder when your anger with him goes away, if maybe I will have outlasted my usefulness because you won’t feel the need to slap him in the face with someone who is so different from how he was.”

“No!” Her face crumpled, though she didn’t cry. “No, Rafe. I love you for you. Besides, Gregory drank beer.”

“I’m sure he did. Pumpkin, smoky wheat foolishness that comes on a little wooden tray with four other samples of pretentious foolishness. Am I right?”

Her face told the story.

“Look, Abby. I’m not complicated. I don’t much care why you love me as long as you do and you keep loving me.”

“I do. I will.” She said it with such emotion that he believed her.

“But you’ve got to work through this anger, if not for your own sake, for Phillip’s. It seems to me from what you’ve said and what little I’ve heard here and there from people who knew him, that Gregory might have been a little hardheaded and spoiled, but he was a good man. And I don’t doubt that he loved you. I don’t see how
anybody
could help loving you.”

She nodded. “All that’s true. And I loved him. Really. I did. Although it was a gradual, secure kind of love. But I can’t deny the anger either—maybe because the best thing Gregory and I had was security, and he changed the rules on me. He went from a buttoned-up, predictable investment banker to someone who wanted an adventure. And I admit I was more than onboard for the ride. But I guess I thought it was a lark and we’d go back to what we had known.”

“You could still go back.”

She shook her head. “No. I tried, and it didn’t work for me anymore. You see, I like my life here. I liked it even before you came along and now …” He voiced trained off, a tiny, content smile pulled at her mouth, and her eyes went to dreamy.

Sweet, crashing waves of emotion ripped through him, taking his breath and making him want to crush her to him until their souls melded into one.

But he only nodded, and his words reflected in no way what he was feeling—but they were words that had to be said. “I can’t pretend I know how you can make peace with this. But I know you have to find a way before we can go any further.”

She bit her lip, and her eyes welled. “Are you saying you want me to leave? To go away until I have dealt with this?”

His heart almost broke. “No!” He leaned forward and trailed a finger down her cheek. “Never that. I said I didn’t know how you were going to resolve this. I didn’t say I wouldn’t try to help you.”

He questioned if he should do it, but Rafe rose, took her hands, and pulled her into his arms. Only when she clung to him and rested there like there was no other place that she could take comfort, did he know it was the right to do.