by Donna Hill
* * *
He had to get away from his thoughts at least for a little while. He went down to the garage and fired up his Harley. Not long after, he was racing along the blacktop with the thick Louisiana air whizzing around him.
The early Saturday-evening traffic was relatively light, allowing him to hopscotch across the three lanes at will. Beyond the ribbons of white and yellow lines, rooftops and spires, the sun took its final bow, stretching its fingers of orange and gold across the horizon in a last-ditch effort to cling to its illuminating power. Sunset always had a calming effect on him. As a kid, whenever he’d gotten into trouble at school or was feeling misunderstood, his mother, Louisa, would take him out on the back porch and they would watch the sun set over the lake that ran behind their home. His mother would remind him that the end of the day was the time to put all the happenings of the day to rest. It was the time to think about tomorrow and how to do things better or different. Funny he should think about that now.
Rafe bore down on the accelerator the moment there was an opening. He flipped down his tinted visor against the glare, leaned into the bike until they were one unit of flesh, bone and metal. Together they rode into the wind that pushed against him, tried to hold him back. This was what he did, who he was, even as the counsel of his mother still flowed through his veins. He pushed through the obstacles that tried to hold him back, whether it was his controlling father, who wanted to mold him into his image, a relentless media that chronicled his life and made up the rest, or the laundry list of wannabe matchmakers and conniving women that wanted nothing more than to claim the Lawson name. It was true that a bunch of what was in his way was a result of his own creation. He laughingly told his siblings that he had a “rebel gene” that compelled him to buck the status quo at every turn.
But in a few months he would be a husband, and if he wanted his marriage to last, he was going to have to permanently shake off the tentacles of his past and find a way to quiet, if not silence, the rebel in his soul.
Chapter 9
Avery couldn’t seem to shake Rafe’s cryptic comment when they last spoke. If there was one thing that she’d learned about him in the time they’d been together, it was that Rafe Lawson was never vague. He said exactly what he meant, and the world be damned. It was one of the many qualities that she loved about him. His honesty and exactness made her feel secure, knowing that whatever he said, whatever commitment he made, it was for real. This was the first time she didn’t feel that way.
She stuck her feet in her flip-flop slippers. Kerry was on duty, doing a double. She had the house to herself until at least nine, and the emptiness of the two-bedroom condo echoed the sentiments of her stomach as she walked down the hallway to the kitchen. She passed the rows of framed black-and-white photos that hung singularly and in groups, telling the story of Kerry’s growing-up years with her two older brothers and sister, the vacations, holiday gatherings, her handsome exes. She stopped in front of one photo that captured the image of Kerry at her college graduation, flanked by her parents, who gazed at their daughter with unabashed love and pride.
The image of her own college graduation day took its place in front of her eyes. She saw herself, unsmiling with her father standing next to her, his stiff arm draped ceremoniously across her shoulder. She realized with a pang just how different she was from her best and only friend, how her life and family were so very different from Kerry’s. Different from Rafe’s. She longed for what they had and at the same time was terrified of it. She stroked the outline of Kerry’s photographed face. When you had all that, there was more to lose. She could take the singular loses. She was expert at that. But the love of a family...
A searing razor-edged pain sliced through her skull, bringing her to her knees. She reached out to break her fall but took several of the photos crashing to the floor with her. Hot tears sprang from her eyes, clouding her already hazy vision. Her stomach roiled from the pain. Down on her hands and knees she drew in long, deep breaths, until the pounding lessened and her vision began to clear. She drew her knees up to her chest and leaned against the cool off-white wall, and this time the tears weren’t from the pain but from fear.
She lost track of how long she’d sat huddled against the wall. When the pain subsided enough for her to attempt to push herself to a standing position, the photo of Kerry and her family lay cracked at her feet. The metaphor didn’t escape her, but her next problem was explaining what happened to Kerry.
Kerry wouldn’t flip about the cracked glass of the framed picture, but rather what caused it. Her worry would be about her friend.
Slowly she picked up the photographs that had fallen and gingerly returned them to their rightful places on the wall, except the one she’d damaged. She took that one with her into the living room and set it on the table.
The pain in her head lessened to a dull throb and a steady beat behind her right eye. That was a good thing. She’d get through this episode. She put one foot in front of the other, returned to her room for her medication and crawled back into bed, where Kerry found her hours later curled in a fetal position.
* * *
“There you are,” Jacqueline greeted as Rafe walked out to the back patio on Sunday afternoon. The family, extended and immediate, were in various stages of lying back. “Started to think you weren’t coming.”
“Wouldn’t miss it, Aunt J.” He kissed her cheek. “Jackson, good to see you, man. It’s been a minute.” He shook his brother-in-law’s hand.
Jackson rose with the handshake and clapped Rafe heartily on the back. “Looking good, bruh. Life must be treating you lovely.”
Rafe chuckled. “Can’t complain.” He beamed at his younger brother Justin. “Yo, bruh.” The brothers embraced, clapped each other on the back.
“Hey, beautiful lady.” He leaned down and kissed Bailey’s cheek.
“Hey,” she said with a smile, and squeezed Rafe’s hand.
His sister Desiree was glued to the hip of her husband Spence, who had a protective arm around his very pregnant wife.
“You look like you’re ready to pop any minute, sis.” He squatted down next to her. He playfully rested his ear against her belly. “Sounds like you have a football team in there, girl.”
Desiree swatted his arm. “That’s ’cause I’m hungry,” she said over her laughter.
“Right,” he teased. “Spence, long time, man. How are you?”
The two men shook hands.
“Can’t complain. It’s all good. How’s Avery? Recovering okay?”
“She’s doing well. Ready to go back to work.”
“Glad to hear that. Give her my regards.”
Rafe bobbed his head in agreement.
The back door swung open and Dominique stepped out with a platter of seasoned chicken for the grill. Her diamond-shaped face and long-lashed eyes lit up. “Rafe!” She set the platter down on the table and threw her arms around her brother. “So good to see you,” she said against his chest and then looked up at him. “Glad you came. I have so much to tell you. Is Avery coming? Is she here?”
“Good to see you, too, sis,” he said. “And no, Avery’s not coming. She’s in Virginia. Goes back to work tomorrow.”
Rafe worked on keeping his expression impassive but was pretty sure he’d failed when he saw Dominique’s bright smile dim. She knew him well. “We need to talk,” he said low enough so only she could hear.
Dominique pursed her polished lips. “Sure.” She sauntered over to the table where she’d deposited the tray of chicken and walked with it over to the grill.
Jacqueline shot Rafe a warning side-eye, to which he responded in kind and smoothly moved out of her line of fire. His aunt Jacquie was definitely not one to play with, but she also hated scenes. She wouldn’t intentionally do anything to publicly put him or his sister on blast.
He moved toward Raymond, who was refilling
the cooler with bottles of beer.
“I’ll take a cold one,” he said, coming up behind Raymond.
“You got it.” He pulled a bottle from the bottom of the cooler.
Moisture ran down the sides of the bottle and made the golden contents shimmer in the afternoon sun.
“Thanks, man. How’s it going?” He grabbed an opener and popped off the cap.
“Taking it easy today. Actually, I head out next week on an assignment. Trying to spend ‘quality’ time with my wife before I go,” he said with a toss of his head in Jacqueline’s direction.
“Where to this time?”
“Afghanistan. Getting imbedded with the army. Three weeks.”
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do for three weeks,” Jacqueline said, before slipping her arm around her husband’s waist.
Raymond chuckled, leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Woman, when have you ever not had something to keep you busy, and we have Paris to look forward to when I’m done.”
“Yes,” she cooed and turned fully into his embrace.
Rafe gripped the beer bottle tighter. Paris had been a city that he’d loved, visited many times for business and pleasure, but after the bombing and almost losing Avery and his father, Paris would never be the same. He tossed his head back and took a long, deep swallow of the icy brew and then followed the path to the grill.
“You plan to help or stand around looking cute?” Dominique teased while she continued to place the seasoned wings on the grill.
“So you do think I’m cute?” he tossed back and came to stand next to her.
“Hmm.” She looked him up and down. “You’ll do. Hand me the sauce in that bowl, please.”
Rafe retrieved the bowl and started brushing the wings with sauce. “We have a problem, sis.”
“I figured as much.” She turned to him with her hand planted on her hip. “What?”
“The wedding. Avery feels like you and Desi and Lee Ann are making it more ya’ll’s than hers.”
Dominique’s neck jerked back. “What? Why?”
He gave her his you-know-damn-well-why look.
She pursed her lips and huffed. “I just want your wedding to be everything, Rafe.” She pressed her palm against his chest and fluttered her lashes.
Rafe refused to give in and held back a smile. “Don’t try to work me, D.”
“Me? Work you?” She closed the cover to the grill and then turned back to her brother. “None of us want to take over the wedding. And we certainly don’t want Avery to feel that she’s not a part of the planning. I guess we...I got carried away. This is a big deal. You? Married?” She flashed him her dimpled smile. “We never thought it would happen...after Janae,” she said softly.
His jaw clenched. Janae. “It is kinda crazy.” He pushed out a breath and shoved his hands into his pants’ pockets. “But it’s a little more complicated than just wedding planning on steroids.”
“What else?”
“I know you were in your zone when you made the announcement to the papers...” He explained Avery’s reaction, right up to her being accosted on the street by a reporter.
“Damn,” she whispered. “I had no idea.”
“Yeah. Me either. For us the media is like a regular Tuesday, but not Avery. And she has concerns that it could affect her job.”
“I never thought of that.” She looked up at him with wide eyes. “I am so sorry, Rafe. I swear. I’ll fix it,” she added quickly, and Rafe could see the wheels turning in her head.
“Slow down. I don’t want you doing anything else. Got it?” he said with a warning glare. “We’ll keep a low profile, and hopefully they’ll latch onto something more interesting.”
Dominique folded her arms. “Fine.”
More than any of his other siblings, he and Dominique were the closest, even more so than Dom and her twin sister. Like his aunt Jacqueline said, they were kindred spirits. She was the one who would nurse his wounds after one of his fights or tumbles from his motorcycle and took his side even when she kinda thought he was wrong. They shared hurts and secrets, and other than Quinten, she was the only one who came close to understanding how losing Janae totally changed his DNA.
He kissed the top of her head the way he did when she was a teenager and would get busted sneaking in late, and she’d cry on his chest about how her latest punishment was going to ruin her life. But they weren’t kids anymore. This was the real deal. Dom had to realize that her actions had consequences. Like him, she was driven by raw emotion. He released her, and when she looked up at him, he knew they’d make it all work; they always did.
“Promise me that you’ll let me handle it,” Rafe said.
Dominique pursed her polished lips. “Fine. But I’m here when you need me.”
“I know that.” He draped his arm around her shoulder and pushed out a breath. “Enough of all this. What I really want to know is, where’s your etouffe? You know I can’t come home and not get my favorite.”
Dominique giggled, and for the moment all was right at the Lawson house.
* * *
“How are you feeling today?” Kerry asked. She lifted her mug of mint tea and brought it to her lips.
“I’m fine. No after-effects.” She lathered her everything bagel with a dollop of cream cheese.
Kerry put down her mug and rested her forearms on the wood tabletop. “Avery... I know you want to power through this, but I saw you yesterday.”
Avery glanced up from beneath her lashes and then quickly focused on her bagel. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine, A! What if you’re on duty and you have an episode? Are you willing to risk the safety of your assignment and yourself for a point of pride?”
Avery lifted her chin. “As long as the doctor clears me, I’ll come back. If not... I’ll have to follow his instructions.”
Kerry studied her friend, heaved a sigh. She held up her hand. “Fine.” She pushed back from the table. “Want to ride in together, or are you taking your car?”
“I’ll take my car. No telling how today will turn out.”
“Look, even if you’re not approved for full duty, at least you’ll be back in the office, even if it is desk duty.”
Inwardly Avery cringed. They may as well take her badge and gun if she was going to ride the desk. That was not what she trained and worked so hard for. Whatever she needed to do to ensure that she was fully back on the job, she would do. The problem was she wasn’t sure who would be harder to convince, the doctor or Kerry.
“I’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” She wiped her mouth with a paper napkin and put her plate in the sink.
“Do you want me to go with you? Moral support? I can call and let them know I’ll be late.”
“No. Not necessary. I’ll be fine. Ready?”
* * *
Being back at the Agency was the shot of adrenaline she needed. For the first time in months, she felt energized. Walking through the doors, seeing the familiar signposts of plaques and portraits, she knew she was home again. This was where she belonged, what she’d worked for, deserved to be.
“Agent Richards, welcome back,” the security guard at the check-in station greeted. “Great work in Paris,” he added.
“Good to be back. Thanks.” She swiped her ID, placed her weapon and badge in the plastic bin and walked through the metal detector.
She gathered her belongings on the other side and walked toward the elevator. The doors slid soundlessly open. Avery walked to the back of the elevator and pressed her back against the wall as other agents and staff boarded, floor by floor.
For days leading up to her exam she’d refrained from taking any medication. She needed to be able to show them that the meds were no longer necessary. The doctor gave her a full exam, took some blood and urine samples and asked her a laundry lis
t of questions, from her eating to sleeping habits. He’d focused for quite some time on the headaches and how she’d been able to wean herself off the medication.
She’d practiced long and hard on the lie that she would tell, and looked him right in the eye when she told him with a straight face that she’d been pain-free for weeks—episodes over.
He’d nodded as he listened and took notes. Finally, he looked up and smiled. “As long as the tests come back with no problems, I can give you medical clearance. They should be in by the end of the week. In the meantime, I’ll call over to headquarters and let the director know that you can be returned to limited duty until the tests come in.” He’d stood. “Welcome back.”
She’d breathed a major sigh of relief, shook the doctor’s hand and walked out, confident that she’d gotten a part of her life back.
The elevator doors opened on her floor. Her heart suddenly began to race. Her right temple throbbed. She sucked in a lungful of air, put one foot in front of the other and walked off. She would get through this. She had to. She plastered a smile on her face as the pain intensified.
“Good morning, Agent Richards. Welcome back. You can go right in. The director is expecting you.”
“Thank you.” She straightened her shoulders and walked toward the director’s office. She knocked on the closed door.
“Come in.”
Avery stepped inside. Director Fischer stood when she entered. “Agent Richards. Come in. Come in. Have a seat.”
“Thank you, sir.” She focused on sitting in the chair and not the pounding behind her left eye. She linked her fingers together on her lap.
“So...how are you?”
“Good. Feeling great. I’m confident that the doctor will give me a clean bill of health.”
“He’s already called. His preliminary report will be here in the morning, but from what he told me, you’re cleared for limited duty.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You do understand that limited means no fieldwork for now.”