Rafe

by Kathy Ivan

  “Momma, you should see the cake Tessa brought. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s stupendous!”

  “Tessa, you didn’t need to bring anything. We always have more food than we know what to do with,” Ms. Patti protested. “I thank you, though, for your thoughtfulness.” She tugged on a lock of Nica’s hair. “Unlike some people.”

  “Not true, Momma. I think about helping—I just don’t follow through.” With an infectious grin, Nica’s shrugged, and Tessa laughed with everyone else. “Seriously, Momma, you should see the cake. Tessa said Jill Monroe made it.”

  “Jill? Why didn’t she bring it herself? Isn’t she coming?”

  “She said she had business in Austin, but she sends her regrets.” Tessa relayed Jill’s message, beginning to wonder if there was something going on she wasn’t seeing. Jill acted like she hadn’t been invited, yet Ms. Patti’s words made her think she’d been an expected guest.

  Oh, yeah, Jill definitely has some explaining to do next time I see her. I think she’s holding out on me.

  “I’ll make sure and give her my thanks personally.” From her tone, it sounded like Ms. Patti might be giving her more than thanks. More like a piece of her mind. The only thing missing from her sentence was bless her heart, which every Southern lady knows, if that’s directed at you, you better run for the hills.

  “Food’s ready. Come and get it.” At Douglas’ yell, the squeal of excited kids overrode all talking. Tessa glanced around, taking in all the excited faces. The younger children raced past, headed for the tables, loaded with so much food she was surprised they didn’t collapse beneath the weight. Expecting to see a lot of pushing and shoving, she was pleasantly surprised when the kids formed a line, paper plates in hand. Douglas spoke with each child, leaning forward to hear, before taking their plate and placing either a hamburger or hot dog on it, and handing it back.

  “We feed the kids first. Once they’ve filled their little tummies, they’ll head off to the play area, while the adults get a chance to actually sit down and enjoy their food.” Ms. Patti watched the line move, her gaze straying constantly to her husband, and Tessa had no trouble reading the love in her expression.

  “You ready to eat?”

  The question came from behind her, and she craned her head around, finding Rafe there, his hand resting lightly on the back of the loveseat. He couldn’t have been standing there long, or she’d have noticed him.

  “Absolutely. I’m starving.”

  “Good, because Dad made enough to feed almost everybody in Shiloh Springs.” Taking her arm, he led her to the table, and began piling two plates high with a little bit of everything.

  “I can do it,” she protested, but he simply smiled and kept piling on more food.

  Finally, they walked over to the grill, where Douglas and Lucas stood waiting. A soft breeze blew, and the scent of the barbecued meat smelled amazing, making her mouth water. The ease with which the men handled the tongs and spatula showed they had plenty of experience with chefs’ duty. Lucas’ deep auburn hair blazed with fiery red highlights under the afternoon sun, since he’d tossed his hat aside earlier. Douglas’ salt and pepper hair didn’t show a hint of red, and Tessa wondered again why most of the boys looked nothing like either parent.

  “What would you like, Tessa? We’ve got steak and ribs for the adults, or you can have a burger or hot dog if you prefer.”

  “Ribs, please. This is amazing, Mr. Boudreau.”

  He frowned and made a motion with the tongs in his hand. “What’s this Mr. Boudreau nonsense? Told you to call me Douglas, or Doug if you prefer.”

  Heat flooded her cheeks. He had told her to call him by his Christian name, but somehow it didn’t feel right. But, she’d do it if he insisted.

  “Thank you, Douglas. Everything looks delicious.”

  He chuckled. “My Patti knows how to make folks happy. Feed ’em good and feed ’em a lot. Full bellies equals contented neighbors.” When he started loading a full rack of ribs on her plate, she shook her head.

  “Only half of that. I couldn’t come close to finishing all those.”

  “Give her the whole rack, Dad. I’ll help her eat them.”

  “Figured as much, son.” Douglas added a huge burger to Rafe’s plate, and turned back to the grill. “Come on back if you want more.”

  “Rafe,” Lucas spoke for the first time since they’d been standing there. He been quietly studying them, and she really looked at him for the first time, wondering what he saw when he looked at her. Though he’d seemed a little quieter than the other Boudreaus, at least around her, this afternoon he seemed almost pensive. “Why don’t you and Tessa go sit by the well? It’ll be quieter over there. The kids will be on the other side of the house playing. Give you a bit of privacy, and let you eat in peace.”

  If she hadn’t been looking at Rafe, she’d probably have missed his start of surprise, an almost invisible question on his face. She glanced between the two brothers, wondering if there was some sort of silent communication going on, but when her stomach growled, she decided not to worry about it. The smells coming off the plate were enticing, and breakfast had been hours ago. She’d been too nervous about coming out to the Big House and mingling with all the Boudreaus to do more than nibble on a piece of toast with her coffee.

  “Come with me, Tessa. I want to show you someplace…special.”

  Curiosity piqued, she followed him, carefully balancing her plate with one hand and her can of Dr Pepper with the other. He walked with the confident stride of a man who knew the land well. The kind of familiarity she associated with cowboys of the old west, his long-legged gait slow and deliberate. She had to admit, she found it kinda sexy.

  They walked across the sprawling back deck teaming with adults and kids, chowing down on plates overflowing with barbecued meat and all the fixings that went along with it. Rafe nodded at the hellos from a few people, and Tessa smiled as she trailed in his wake. Soon they reached the edge of the patio and walked around the side of the house, where another small deck sat in front of a set of French doors. Several decorative urns and pots overflowing with deep green ferns and flowering plants were scattered over the concrete surface, their strikingly vivid colors evidence of somebody’s green thumb. A comfortable-looking set of chairs and a glass table off to the side completed the charming vignette.

  Continuing past, he walked through a stand of trees, maybe another twenty feet, before stopping. Her breath caught in the back of her throat, because the scene before her was…indescribable. Absolutely breathtaking. A white-roofed gazebo sat in the center of a clearing, surrounded by a stand of tall pine trees. Big enough to hold a dozen people comfortably, there was white lattice skirting around the bottom, and a circular roof perched over the top of the structure. It reminded her of something out of a fairy garden—and she was instantly entranced. Who expected something so ethereal in the middle of a working Texas ranch?

  Intertwined around the base of the gazebo were climbing pink and white roses and tall ornamental grasses, lending to its otherworldly appearance, and she breathed in the heady perfume from the flowers.

  Inside the gazebo, at the center of this enchanted structure, was something even more surprising. A well. The smooth stone and wooden structure should have looked incongruous in such a fantasy-styled setting, yet somehow it fit. A small wooden bucket attached by rope to a wooden arm with a handle, and her first thought was it reminded her of a wishing well.

  With a smile, Rafe led her to a painted white bench partially hidden away within the surrounding walls. Tiny Christmas lights ringed the tree bases, and all along the inside of the roof. Oh, what she’d give to see this magical spot at night! As if he read her mind, he flicked a switch, and smiled as the lights turned on, the soft golden glow causing her to gasp in wonder.

  “This is…” She broke off, unable to think of the right words to describe the special spot.

  “Momma’s secret garden. She’s worked on it for years, weeding an
d planting, until everything was exactly the way she pictured in her head. My dad cleared the spot for her years ago, and this is the end result.”

  “It’s like something out of a fairy tale, only better.”

  “That’s exactly the look she was aiming for. She’ll be pleased you got her vision. Now dig in, before your ribs get cold.”

  So entranced by this magical hideaway, she’d forgotten about the plate of food in her hands, but his gentle reminder triggered her hunger, and she dug in. The potato salad was perfect, and the fruit refreshing. Biting into one of the heavily-sauced ribs, she couldn’t hide her moan. The meat was cooked perfectly, falling off the bone tender, the sauce sweet and spicy and tangy, all at the same time.

  Forgetting about ladylike manners, she dug in, giving a mock growl when Rafe reached for a rib. Grinning, she relented, handing over half the rack.

  They ate in silence, and she groaned when she finished. Though there was still food on her plate, there was no way she could eat another bite. Rafe snagged her last rib, biting into it with gusto, and she wondered where he put it all. He’d finished everything on his plate, and some of hers to boot.

  “I’m stuffed. Just roll me over, and I’ll take a nap.”

  Taking her plate, he set them both on the ground beside the bench, along with the empty soda cans, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. The move surprised her, but in a nice way. Leaning into him, she rested her head on his shoulder, and drew in a deep breath. “This is really nice.”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  They stayed that way for several minutes, and she allowed the peaceful silence to wash over her. Occasionally, the sound of children’s laughter drifted toward them, but none were close enough to see. Finally lifting her head off his shoulder, she reached for his hand, threading her fingers with his.

  “You promised to tell me why you and your brothers don’t look like Ms. Patti and Douglas. I’m guessing you’re adopted?”

  Rafe brushed the hair from her cheek with his other hand, and a tingle of warmth sizzled along the skin where he touched. When he cupped her face gently, she stared intently into his eyes, willing him to kiss her.

  “I’ll tell you everything, Red. But first, there’s something I’ve been dying to do since the moment I saw you.”

  “What?”

  “This,” he whispered, right before his lips touched hers.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  An instantaneous rush spread through him the second his lips touched hers. He savored the first taste of her, the woman who’d been haunting his thoughts and dreams from the moment he’d met her. His tongue swept across her lips, silently demanding she open to him, and dove deep when she complied without protest.

  She tasted like heaven. It felt different than any kiss before. He could kiss her forever, until all the stars fell from the sky, and it still wouldn’t be enough. Everything around them, the sounds of the others at the barbecue, the laughter of children playing, faded to nothing as he deepened the kiss. He couldn’t hear anything except her soft sigh and the barely-there moan that escaped when she leaned into him.

  She tilted her head ever-so-slightly, tangling her fingers in his hair, and he did the same, sliding his fingers into her glorious auburn hair, and tugged slightly to get her exactly where he wanted her. Finally, he pulled back, drew in a long breath, and stared into her beautiful blue eyes, reading the mix of surprise and barely-banked desire in their sapphire depths.

  Pulling away from Tessa proved the hardest thing he’d ever done, but now wasn’t the time or the place to take things further, no matter every molecule in his body screamed to keep going. Though the gazebo gave an illusion of solitude, they weren’t alone. Not really. Most of his family and neighbors sat mere feet away, around the side of the house on the back patio. This secluded spot of paradise, Momma’s gazebo with its wishing well, could be overrun with people at any second, and these moments with Tessa in his arms were private and special, not to be shared with anybody else.

  Especially since he’d experienced the most earth-shattering kiss of his entire life. One he intended to repeat, as soon as they were someplace with a bit more privacy, and maybe four walls and a roof, away from any prying eyes.

  She stared at him, her cheeks flushed a bright pink, and he couldn’t resist brushing his thumb against the curve of her jaw. Felt the softness of her skin, like the dew-kissed petals of the gardenias beneath his bedroom window. Fragile and easily bruised, yet with gentleness and patience, they blossomed and flourished. Somehow, they reminded him of Tessa and her inner strength and resilience.

  “Rafe?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but he heard the tentative question at its heart. And he had promised her answers.

  “I met Douglas Boudreau when I was eleven years old.” Her eyes widened at his words, her eyes searching his face. The knot in the pit of his stomach expanded the second he’d uttered the words, and he suddenly wished he hadn’t promised to tell her his story. Not because he was ashamed or didn’t want her to know. No, because he didn’t want to destroy the magic still racing through his veins from their kiss.

  “You don’t have to—”

  He placed a finger against her lips, and continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “It had been a particularly bad night. Though to tell you the truth, there weren’t a lot of good days or nights when I was a kid. There hadn’t been in a long time. My mother, my biological mother, was a wonderful woman. Sweet, kind, and funny. She made the mistake of falling in love with the wrong man.” He ran a hand through his hair, searching for the right words. “My biological father wasn’t a monster. Except when he was high. Things weren’t bad at first, when I was little. By the time I turned nine, his habit tipped over into the out of control category.”

  “What did he take?” She voiced the question absently. He gritted his teeth, using every ounce of willpower to control his emotions. This was why he didn’t talk about the past. The last thing he wanted or needed was to hear pity in her voice. Instead, he erected a wall, blocking everything behind it, so nothing leaked out to destroy what he’d worked so hard to build—a new family and a new life. He wouldn’t allow anybody to hurt him again—not even Tessa.

  “Most days? Meth, but after a while, he’d use anything he could get his hands on. When he got high, he got violent. Mom took the brunt of his anger, at least most of the time. Protected me and took the physical abuse herself. Of course, like most abusers, once he sobered up, he’d come home with an armload of flowers and gifts, swearing he’d never hit her again. We actually left twice. Moved into a shelter.” He gave a bitter laugh, inwardly wincing at the ugly sound. “Gotta hand it to him. He somehow managed to talk her into coming back every time.”

  The rage he always felt when speaking about his biological father burned like acid in his veins. As a cop, he saw it all the time, especially when he’d worked in Dallas. Same story, different faces. He tried to distance himself, look at it dispassionately and objectively. Prayed he’d become a more compassionate man because he’d experienced what they did, but dealing with it as a cop and dealing with it as a victim—two entirely different realities.

  “Things came to a head one stifling hot night in the middle of July. The temperatures had been in the hundreds for days. Mom finally reached the end of her rope. I’m not sure if was a combination of the weather and my dad’s increasing drug use, but for whatever reason, she’d had enough. My father,” he spat out the word, feeling it like a bitter taste on his tongue, “came home stoned again. Angry. Ready to take out his rage on the nearest target, which ended up being my mom. To this day, I don’t remember what set him off. Could have been anything, because he had a hair trigger most days. Anyway, he threw a punch at her—and I stepped in.”

  “Rafe.” Her hand squeezed his tight, the look on her face a combination of shock and compassion. But he didn’t see the one emotion he’d dreaded. Pity. Too bad this wasn’t the end of the story.

  “I’d never been a big kid. Think scraw
ny with bones sticking out. I ended up flying across the kitchen. I smacked into the refrigerator, before landing on the linoleum. I definitely saw stars. That was the first time he hit me. I’m not talking about spankings and stuff. Trust me, I got plenty of those.” Enough his teachers noticed the bruises and swelling on his arms and legs, but not enough to do a damned thing about it. There’d been more nights than he liked to remember where he’d been unable to sit down from the welts and open cuts caused by his old man’s belt buckle across his backside and thighs. He’d learned to sleep on his stomach, to keep the blood off the sheets. He still carried scars, both physical and emotional.

  “I don’t need to hear any more.”

  Raising the hand still engulfed in his, he pressed a soft kiss against it, feeling its softness against his lips. “You need to understand what my life was like before, so you’ll see why meeting Douglas Boudreau changed my whole world.”

  “I don’t want you reliving it. Let the past stay in the past.”

  Unshed tears glistened in her eyes, sparkling like diamonds in the afternoon sunlight. Lifting his hand, he caught one on the tip of his finger, and his heart stuttered in his chest. Other than Ms. Patti, he couldn’t remember the last time anyone had cried for him.

  “Let me finish, sweetheart.” He smiled and brushed a kiss against her cheek. “I promise it has a happy ending.”

  “Good. You deserve one.”

  He pulled her close against his side, and tucked her head onto his shoulder. Maybe if he didn’t stare into her beautiful eyes, he’d get through it faster. Treat it like ripping off a Band-Aid. It hurt only for a moment before it faded.

  He decided to skip the rest of what happened in the kitchen of that rundown trailer, with the hole in the bathroom floor big enough to see the rocks and weeds beneath, and the missing windows in the one bedroom, covered over by cardboard boxes his mother had stolen from the back of a liquor store and held in place with duct tape. Not that it was any different from the succession of mobile homes and bug-infested, rent-by-the-hour motel rooms which dotted his childhood.