by Donna Hill
He came up the two steps to stand in front of her. “Janae.”
“Thank you for coming.”
He jammed his hands in his pockets.
“Come in.” She stepped aside and held the screen door open.
Rafe eased by her and entered the small foyer that opened on either side to the sitting room on the left and kitchen to the right. From where he stood he could see straight out to the back that boasted a small pool—a staple of Florida living.
“We can talk in here,” Janae said, extending her arm toward the sitting room.
He followed her and couldn’t help but notice the slight limp as she walked. Inwardly he winced for her pain. He took a quick look around. The room was small, but cozy and a bit overstuffed with knickknacks and memorabilia that took up the mantel, glass cabinets and end tables. Framed photos of Janae with her parents hung on the walls.
Rafe turned to face her. He unbuttoned the single button on his navy-blue sports jacket, revealing the brilliant white open-collared shirt.
“Can I get you anything? Something to drink?”
“No. I’m fine. Thanks.” He sat in the armchair near the window.
Janae took her time and sat opposite him. A circular table separated them.
“Where do I begin?” she said softly.
“Anywhere. Tell me something that makes sense, Janae. When you remembered something, anything about us, why didn’t you let me know you were alive? How could you do that to someone that you claimed to love?” He leaped up out of his seat and began to pace, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck. He whirled toward her.
“It was because I loved you that I didn’t call,” she said, so quietly that it sounded like a prayer. “I had so many physical struggles after what happened—still do. Memory pretty much gone, scars, nightmares.” She sucked in a breath. “I didn’t want to burden you, and my parents—my caretakers—convinced me that it was best for everyone that I stay away.”
“Even if I was to accept that then, why now? Why come back now and ruin my life all over again?”
“I still love you, Rafe.” Her deep bronze gaze pierced the protective coating he’d submerged himself in.
His gut shifted. Slowly he shook his head in denial. “It’s not that simple anymore, J. I had no choice but to move on.” His throat clenched while he slowly lowered himself into the chair. He rested his forearms on his muscled denim-clad thighs and leaned forward. “I can’t even imagine everything you’ve been through, Janae. Sometimes I think that what I imagined was even more horrific—simply because I didn’t know!” He linked his fingers together and looked into her eyes. “Maybe there’s a part of me that understands all your reasons, but it doesn’t take away all the damage that not knowing has done. In sixteen years, it was hard, but I moved on, Janae. I had no choice if I was gonna survive. Losing you...nearly destroyed me. I had to find my way without you, push into the back of my mind all the plans we made, the things we’d hoped for.” He dragged in a breath. He thought about Avery—his second chance—and their last conversation. His jaw tightened. He wouldn’t give in and let go again.
“Janae... I know I’ll always love you, too.” He breathed deeply. “But what we had is the past. I can’t go back. We can’t go back.”
Janae lowered her head to hide the tears welling in her eyes. “I hoped...” She sniffed. “But I understand. I only want you to be happy, Rafe.”
They were quiet for a moment. “What about your parents?” he gently probed.
She blinked rapidly. “They passed away. A year apart from each other about three years ago. I always believed they hung on to make sure that I was okay.”
“I’m so sorry, Janae. Really.”
She pressed her lips together and nodded slowly. “Thank you.”
“So...you’re here alone?” He studied her face and noticed for the first time the slight discoloration of her right cheek that looked as if it might be the result of burns.
“In the house, yes. But I have friends and my work. I do intervention at the local high school for at-risk students and double duty as guidance counselor.”
He smiled, remembering her passion for social work. “That’s great. I know you’re amazing.”
The stiffness of her shoulders seemed to finally relax, and a true smile lit her eyes. “I love my students. So many of them have it rough. I mean really rough.” She looked right at him. “Not like how me and you grew up. We thought a hard time was not going to a concert, or the car not starting.” They both laughed at the memories they shared. She glanced down at her hands, covered the left that was scarred. “I found my place. That part is good. I’ve made friends and have pieced together my life one day at a time.” She swallowed. “There are still things that I don’t clearly remember.” She shrugged lightly. “I’ve grown to accept it and don’t fight with myself about it anymore. It took time and a lot of therapy.” She smiled, the way he remembered.
As he listened the hardened shell that he’d wrapped around that part of his soul that contained all things Janae slowly softened, and he allowed himself the briefest of moments to remember what it felt like to love her, but also the emotional work that it took to move on.
“I’m happy for you. I can’t imagine your struggle, but the woman that I remember was always a fighter.”
He stood. Janae’s gaze rose with him. He came to her, took her hand and brought it to his lips. “Thank you for finally closing the space in my life, Janae. Knowing that you survived...” His throat tightened.
She stood, wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his chest. He stroked her back and for a moment all the years and uncertainly slipped away. He stepped back. “Take care of yourself, Janae.” He kissed her cheek, turned away and didn’t look back.
Chapter 19
“We should have the results back from the radiologist in a day or so,” the doctor said. “The pain, in the meantime, can be managed. I’m going to write you a new prescription. But you must take the medication.”
Avery nodded. “Are there any side effects?”
“Well, it can make you groggy. You shouldn’t drive for up to two hours after you take it.”
“That’s going to interfere with my job. I have to drive and be alert.”
“Ms. Richards, I need you to understand that we can’t ever be too cautious with head injuries. Most times they heal on their own, but sometimes they don’t. I need you to be prepared for that. Hopefully, that won’t be the case.”
“Are you saying that I might be on some kind of medication for the rest of my life?” she asked, panic rising in her voice.
“It’s possible. But let’s not go down that road until we get the results back,” he said, patting the air with his hand. “I’ll give you a call as soon as I get the results. We’ll go from there.” He turned to his computer and tapped in her information. “The prescription is being sent to your pharmacy. It should be ready by the time you get back home.” He folded his beefy hands on top of the desk. “Do you have any more questions for me?”
Avery lowered her head and shook it slowly. “No.” She looked across the desk at him and then stood. “Thank you, Dr. Ryan.”
Kerry popped up from her seat the moment Avery exited the doctor’s office. “What did he say?”
“The results should be back in a day or two. Got a new prescription and was told that this may be my life,” she added morosely.
“It’s going to be okay. I know it will.” She hooked her arm through Avery’s as they walked out.
“Yeah,” she murmured.
“Are you going to talk to Rafe?”
“Not now. Not yet.”
Kerry used the key fob to disengage the car alarm. “Hungry?”
“No. If you could drive me home, that would be great.”
“Are you sure? You know you can stay with me as lon
g as you want.”
“I’m sure. I need to sleep in my own bed.” She opened the passenger side door.
“I won’t get offended, but the offer is good if you change your mind.” She opened her door and got in. “What about work? Are you going in tomorrow?”
Avery snapped her seat belt in place. “Have to. I’ve barely been back and already had to take a day off. I don’t need to add to Director Fischer’s doubts. He said the promotion is still out there. Hopefully the media interest in me and Rafe has died down—especially since there’s nothing to write about,” she added and turned her head to stare out of her window. Not to mention that she didn’t need her father getting wind of what was going on before she had a chance to tell him herself. It was only a matter of time before he found out. But she needed to steal as much of it as she could for now.
Kerry didn’t comment. Avery would work it out. She always did.
* * *
After a stop at the pharmacy to pick up her prescription, Kerry dropped Avery home and promised to call later.
* * *
Sitting in a tub full of bubbles, surrounded by low lights and the unwinding aroma of lavender, Avery leaned back against the lip of the tub and closed her eyes. Steam wafted around her. She missed him. From the depths of her soul she missed him. Her insides twisted and unwound. Rafe was the man she wanted. But what if she would never be well? What if she decided to try to work it out, but he was still in love with Janae? Her heart tightened. She had to be all right. Rafe had to choose her. But if she was always going to be a semi-invalid, living on pills and stuck behind a desk or worse, she knew she would be a horror to live with, to love. And she’d grow to resent Rafe and he’d eventually resent her for ruining his life—again.
She opened her eyes and stared up at the white ceiling. It was best to let go now.
* * *
Rafe’s flight landed in New Orleans shortly before six. The travel time between Florida and Louisiana was barely two hours. He wished it was longer. He wished he could stay up in the air, let the clouds separate him from the reality of firm ground for a little while longer.
Seeing Janae shook him more than he was willing to admit. Feelings for her still simmered under the surface. Being with her brought back a tidal wave of memories and raw emotions. But he had to reconcile with the reason why he was facing her for the first time in sixteen years. She’d deceived him.
He got it. He understood why she’d stayed away. In some macabre way she was trying to protect his feelings, and her parents were trying to protect her. But Janae honestly believed that he would have walked away.
That’s what unsettled him the most. How could she say that she loved him if she believed that he wouldn’t have loved her enough to stay—no matter what? How do you love someone and allow him to believe that you’re dead, allow him to wallow in the guilt of loss?
Would he have stayed in Florida and tried to figure it all out without the possibility of Avery? The question plagued him as he drove home from the airport. He needed to see Avery, be with her and settle things between them. She was going to listen to reason.
He instructed his phone to dial his aunt Jacquie while he drove.
“Rafe. Sweetie. Are you back?”
“Yeah. Actually, I was hoping you were home.”
“Coming by?”
“Yeah. Should be there in about forty minutes.”
“I could use the company.”
“See you soon.”
When Rafe arrived, Jacqueline took one look at his face and wrapped her nephew in her arms. For several moments she held him like she did when he was a wild rambunctious child who had been punished for his antics by his father and sought out his aunt to hear his hurt and grievances.
Reluctantly Jacquie released him, slid her arm around his and ushered him into the house.
“I just turned off the pot.”
Rafe grinned. “Smells like a jambalaya party.”
“Comfort food. Come on.”
Rafe shrugged out of his lightweight brown leather jacket and hung it on the back of the kitchen stool.
Jacquie busied herself at the oven. She took out a tray of rolls and placed them on the marble island counter.
“Hot damn, Aunt J.” He snatched a piping-hot, homemade roll from the tray and popped it back and forth between his fingers while he blew on it.
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “If you’d wait a second you wouldn’t have to do all that,” she said with laughter in her voice.
Rafe blew on the perfectly browned, butter-lathered roll and took a bite. His long lashes lowered over his eyes as he hummed in satisfaction.
She took two large ceramic bowls from the cabinet and set them on the table along with cutlery. Rafe jumped up with his mouth filled with a roll and took the stainless-steel stew pot from the stove and set it on the warming tray in the center of the counter.
“Did Raymond leave yet?”
Jacquie blew out a breath. “This morning. Guess that’s why I started cooking.” She looked at her nephew. “Comfort.”
He patted her hand. “He’s gonna be fine, Aunt J.”
“I know. It’s just hard being sidelined. You know I’m not used to that,” she said and puttered a sad laugh.
Since his aunt’s near-death diagnosis two years earlier, and her brother Branford being her savior, she’d scaled back on her travel, especially extended travel. Jacqueline Lawson was a renowned photojournalist whose work was featured in magazines and museums around the world. Her partnership with Raymond only solidified her cache and his. But the doctors wanted her to give her body another six months of high nutrition, rest and follow up, and then she would be one hundred percent back to herself.
Fortunately, she had a husband like Raymond who was strong enough to withstand the Lawson wrath when she fought tooth and nail to go against doctor’s orders and chase the next story. He’d put his foot down and let her know that there was nothing out in that world that was more important than what they had together, and they would be nothing without each other. He had no intention of losing her over some job, and if she loved him as much as she claimed, she’d realize the truth in what he said. The lioness purred.
Jacquie ladled heaps of the mouth-watering jambalaya into Rafe’s bowl and then hers. She took a seat next to him, waited for him to break the silence.
“She’s the same but different,” Rafe finally began slowly, and took a spoonful of food. Thoughtfully and at times with difficulty he recounted his meeting with Janae.
Jacquie listened with patience, never interjecting her thoughts or opinion, only from time to time lovingly patting his hand.
“I’ve been back and forth in my head,” he said on a breath of confusion. “Avery pretty much ended things between us. Janae was willing to start over.” His cheeks puffed, he blew out a slow breath, turned and looked at his aunt. “Why are women so difficult?”
Jacquie chuckled. “You askin’ the wrong woman if you check with my husband. But, seriously, we’re nurturers at heart, always wanting to take care of others, even by sacrificing ourselves in the process.” She clasped his fisted hand. “You, Rafe Lawson, bring out that quality in women in spades. They all want to take care of the bad boy, tame his heart, tend to his wounds.”
“So, I gotta be a bastard to women? Is that the answer?”
“No, of course not. What I’m saying is you need to be aware that when women love, they protect. Janae was trying to protect you, as hard as that is to digest, and I firmly believe that Avery is trying to protect you from something, as well.” She stared directly into his questioning gaze.
“If you’re ever going to find some peace inside yourself, whatever you decide to do about Avery, you need to find out what she thinks she’s protecting you from. You see the aftermath of how that belief can go terribly wrong,” she added.
&n
bsp; He focused on the contents of his bowl and churned his aunt’s advice over in his head. He turned to her and offered up that heart-stopping half grin. “Plan to.”
“Sounds like a toast is in order.” She hopped up from her seat, went into the living room and returned with a bottle of bourbon, which she held high like a trophy. She poured for them both.
Rafe lifted his glass. “To the wisest aunt a nephew could have.”
Jacquie grinned. “I’ll drink to that.”
* * *
Rafe and Jacquie talked and laughed and ate long into the night. When he woke the following morning, he knew exactly what he had to do. After a long, hot shower and a change of clothes that he kept in his go-bag, he met up with his aunt in the kitchen. She was totally absorbed in the newspaper while she sipped on a cup of espresso.
“Mornin’. Sleep okay?” she asked, looking up as she absently tucked a wayward lock back into the high twists on her head.
“Yeah, I did actually,” he said on a breath.
“Coffee?”
“To go. I’m heading out.”
She turned halfway on the stool and looked at him. “Where?”
“DC.”
She smiled and then turned back to her paper. “Good. Thermos in the cabinet over the sink,” she added, hooking a thumb over her shoulder.
Rafe poured coffee into the thermos and then came up alongside his aunt. “Thank you for listening, Aunt J.” He leaned down and kissed her soft cheek.
“And you make sure you do the same,” she said, wagging a warning finger.
He winked and walked out. Keeping an open mind was the plan, but he’d seen many of the best laid plans fall apart. He was willing to listen if Avery was willing to talk honestly.
Chapter 20
Avery was at her desk, working her way through her mind-numbing assignment of determining which agents were up for new detail assignments. Although the in-house policy was to keep the agents with the same clients, periodically, for a variety of reasons an agent was reassigned. At least she still had her job, such as it was.