Rafe washed quickly, the idea of Eleanor right outside the door making it hard to concentrate. Her voice was calm and melodious, whether talking, reading, or singing. She was short, her head tucking easily under his chin. Her skin was petal soft. He’d felt it when he linked fingers with her or leaned against her side. He wondered if she were left-handed, since she always kept him to that side.
Careful of his head wound, he allowed the water to caress down his back before finishing his shower. The towel was located exactly where she indicated and, once dry, he found the pajamas to the right, on the sink counter.
She had also given him a toothbrush, which he used. Standing at the sink, he again attempted to open his eyes but the swelling still kept him from seeing. Sighing, he felt his way over to the door.
As soon as his hand landed on the knob, she opened it from the other side.
“Feel better? I’ve got another pain pill to help you sleep.”
“Thank you, yes.” Swallowing the pill with the water she provided, he allowed her to lead him to the bed.
“Now remember, if you get up during the night, go straight from the end and you’ll walk right into the bathroom.”
He crawled under the sheets, feeling foolish once again, unable to see her. “I’ll be fine, Eleanor. Thank you for everything today. Hopefully, I can see tomorrow and if the rain will just stop, we can see how to fix the terrace mess.”
“No worries,” she called out. “It will be there when you’re ready for it.” Walking to the door, she said, “I’m just across the hall, if you need anything. See you in the morning.”
“Good night,” he called out, his body sinking into the comfortable mattress. As sleep claimed him, he hoped tomorrow would bring his vision so he could finally view the enigmatic Eleanor Bellamy.
Across the hall, she was hoping for the opposite.
16
Rising early the next morning, Eleanor hustled out of bed faster than she usually moved. She had not heard a peep from across the hall, but wanted to check on Rafe anyway. Wrapping a robe around and tying it at her waist, she stepped quietly into the hall, still hearing nothing. She stepped to his door, peeking inside, seeing a large lump under the covers. Tip-toeing over toward the bed, she listened intently, but only the deep breathing of sleep met her ears.
Making her way even closer, she could see his face in the faint light coming in the window, the bruising extending above the bandage and his eyes still swollen. Inwardly chastising herself for being glad, she couldn’t deny it relieved her to have another day to enjoy his company.
I didn’t think I was lonely…maybe it had just gotten so easy to be alone. Just one day with his company and someone needing her and she felt more alive than she had in a long time.
His body shifted slightly and she jumped, backtracking quickly. Moving into her room again, she dressed in comfortable yoga pants and a lightweight cotton, long-sleeved t-shirt. In the bathroom, she brushed her hair, braiding it into a long braid that draped down her back. Moisturizing her face, she slipped on her sneakers and was walking out her bedroom door when she heard Rafe moving around on the bed.
Knocking loudly on the door frame, she called out his name. “Rafe? It’s me, Eleanor. Are you awake?”
Grunting, he sat up in bed, his hands instantly going to his face. “Damn,” he grumbled.
Stepping into the room, her gaze was drawn to his naked chest, all corded muscles and sinew. Tattoos down one arm like a sleeve. Swallowing deeply, she asked, “How do you feel?”
“Like I was hit by a tree,” he joked.
“Oh…” she groaned, a slight giggle slipping out.
“Actually, my face feels less tight, so I think the swelling went down.” He turned his face toward her voice and asked, “Does it look better?”
“Uh…well,” she hesitated, “it kind of looks worse.” At his groan, she quickly added, “The bruising. The bruising looks worse.” Moving closer, she said, “But your eyes are a little less puffy.” She tried to sound happy, but felt her stomach drop. “If you want to get dressed, I can check the cut before we go down for breakfast.” She walked over and handed him his clean jeans and t-shirt from the previous day. “I’ll just wait outside.”
After a few minutes, Rafe was dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed. He felt the gauze being taken off and heard Eleanor’s sharp intake of breath.
“What is it?”
“It actually looks good. I know that if we had been able to get to the hospital, they would have probably given you stitches, but the butterfly bandages have done a good job holding. There will be a slight scar just above your eyebrows, but that’ll be all.” Joking, she added, “It’s a good thing you work with your muscles outdoors and don’t have to worry about a little scar.”
Her words jarred him. She doesn’t know what I really do. Stomach clenching, he reached up to feel the slightly puckered skin. She gently pushed his hand away.
“Stop,” she ordered, “you don’t want to get the wound infected. I think we can leave the gauze off today to give it a chance to heal more rapidly.”
Nodding, he reached for her arm again, pushing down any feelings of nerves. I didn’t want to model forever…but the idea of not being able to have it to fall back on caused his feet to stumble as he got up. Recovering as they made their way to the kitchen, he commented, “This feels different. These stairs have carpet.”
“I’m using the back stairs that are closer to the kitchen,” she explained. As they entered she sat him at the table again and, a few minutes later, plated scrambled eggs and bacon. Handing him a cup of coffee, she gave the coordinates of his food and they began to eat.
Cocking his head to the side, he said begrudgingly, “I still hear the rain.”
“Yes, it’s supposed to last for a couple of days.”
“I know,” he admitted, taking a sip of coffee. His mood matched the gloom outside, though the coffee instantly warmed him. “Man, that’s good.”
“I like my coffee strong,” she admitted. “Thought you might also.”
They finished eating in comfortable silence. As Eleanor rinsed the dishes and pans, she looked over her shoulder. “So, what do you want to do today?”
Slumping slightly, he rubbed his chin. “You’ve probably got things to do…I can just…sit somewhere.”
She watched as he took another sip of coffee, his face dark with his unshaven beard, and felt a sense of longing she had not felt in a long time. “I don’t have anything I need to be working on today. We can spend it together…if you like.”
The smile spreading across his face at her suggestion caused her heart to skip a beat. Dangerous…this is a dangerous game I’m playing. One where I know the outcome. But for once, playing it safe no longer felt right. Filling her lungs with a deep breath, she stood up straight and reached out to take his hand. “We can just hang out today. You learned all about Bellamy House yesterday…I’d like to learn about Rafe Walker today.”
“I’m afraid my history isn’t nearly as interesting as this manor’s,” he said, “but I’d love to hang out with you. Where shall we go today?”
“How about the formal living room? After all, my parents always received guests of honor in the living room.”
Standing, Rafe took her arm as she led him down the hall, recognizing the feel of the marble tile of the entry foyer under his feet. “Oh, so I’m an important guest now, am I?”
“Absolutely,” she enthused, as she led him into the large room, formally decorated with brocade sofas, conversational arrangements of chairs, a massive brick fireplace in the center of one wall with floor to ceiling windows flanking. At his request, she described the room for him, right down to the pieces of art and the formal painting of the family over the fireplace. “And in the corner, is the baby grand piano.”
“Will you play for me sometime?” he asked, sitting on the sofa with her next to him. “I heard you play one night and thought it was beautiful. That was you right?”
> “You…you heard me? I mean, yes, it was.”
Nodding, pleased to finally have a face to pair with her voice, he turned toward her. “It was enchanting,” he said, longing to have her play and sing for him. “I can’t think of anything I’d like more.”
Sucking in her lips, she confessed, “I haven’t played for anyone in a long time—”
“You’ve already played for me. Unwittingly, I admit. But still, I hope you’ll consider it. Just think of it as playing for a friend.”
A warm ribbon began to curl around her heart when Eleanor heard him call her a friend. Swallowing deeply, afraid the ribbon would turn to ice, she breathed easier as the warmth spread throughout her body. Every sense was heightened. She wanted to cup his face, sweeping her thumb over his stubbled jaw. His arms, so thick with muscles…she knew what they felt like as he leaned on her as they walked. But to have them wrapped around me in caring. She realized in that moment that she lived alone by choice and had tried to convince herself she was not lonely. But I am. Lonely to my bones.
“Hey, you don’t have to play, if you don’t want to.”
His face, filled with concern, hurt her. Leaning over, she placed her hand on his arm. “No, no, it’s fine. I’d like to play for you later. But first, I get to have a chance to know you. Remember?”
Hating that he could not see her face, Rafe wondered about the sadness in her voice. Pushing that aside, he shifted on the sofa in an attempt to get closer, but hoped he disguised it as just getting comfortable. Pleased when she did not move away, he settled back, placing his large hand over hers, holding it gently.
“You already know that I was one of Miss Ethel’s boys, as she liked to call us. My parents were killed in a car accident when I was eight. There were no relatives to take me in, so I went into the system.”
He felt her fingers flex on his arm and he offered a rueful smile. “I was lucky…Miss Ethel was the first, and only, foster home I was placed in. She’s wonderful…actually, she’s the best.”
“My mother always had the utmost respect for her.”
Nodding, he agreed. “I didn’t realize it at the time, but after hearing some stories from a few of my friends, I realized how lucky I was.”
“Can you tell me about your parents?” she asked.
Her melodious voice slipped around him like a blanket, secure against the cold, making him want to tell her everything. “Sure,” he agreed, linking his fingers with hers, loving the connection. “My dad was a hard worker. He did not have a formal education, but began cutting grass as a teenager and then eventually started his own lawn care business with over twenty employees working full time for him.”
“Wow, so you come by your skill naturally.”
Nodding, he said, “I used to ride around on his lawn tractor and listen to him talk about trees and plants. He knew when to cut and when to prune. He’d talk about plants that grew on new wood or old wood and how to take care of each variety. He knew if a plant needed alkaline or acidic soil. As a kid, I thought he was the smartest man I knew.”
“And your mom?”
“She worked with my dad. She’d keep the records and handle the bookings. I remember she was always there when I got off the school bus.”
“They sound wonderful, Rafe.”
“They were the best, that’s for sure,” he agreed. “I used to ask for a brother or sister and I know they would have liked a big family. It seems my mom had some complications when she had me and they didn’t want to chance any other children. With their jobs, they got to work from home, so they were always around and I got to spend a lot of time with them. During the winter, Dad’s business did snow plowing.”
Sighing heavily, he said, “That’s when it happened. The winter when I was eight. We’d had a big snow and Mom needed to go to the grocery store, so she went out with Dad since he was going to be plowing a parking lot anyway. I was playing with a next-door neighbor when the police came by.”
He heard her sharp intake of breath, but he kept going. “Seems a large dump truck skidded through an intersection and hit them straight on. They were killed instantly.”
The room was quiet, the tick-tock of the tall grandfather clock interrupting the silence. He felt her gently rubbing his hand where their fingers were linked and wished he could see her face.
“I’m so sorry, Rafe,” Eleanor said, her voiced laced with sadness as she scooted closer to him so their legs were touching, wanting to provide comfort.
“It was a long time ago, but I can still see my dad out on his tractor in the summer sun, his ball cap on his head and a big smile on his face when he would see me.” Clearing his throat, he continued, “I had no living relatives, so I was taken to a foster home.”
“Were you scared?”
“Shitless,” he laughed. “But, Miss Ethel lived in this big house at the end of a nice street. She already had a couple of boys there and I fit right in.” Thinking for a moment, he said, “I now realize what a gift she has. She took frightened boys and made us into a family. She made sure we did well in school. She taught us manners. Strange as it sounds…that sweet, older lady taught us how to be men. We were truly brothers…still are. They’re my best friends.
Still smiling, he continued, “Zander’s the oldest in our group. He owns a bar and recently found the love of his life…getting married soon. Cael and I are the same age. Then there’s the twins, Jaxon and Jayden. Asher was the youngest for a while, but then Zeke came along. There were some others that came and went but we were the closest and have stayed that way.”
“That’s so lovely. I wish…well, that’s lovely.”
“Anyway, I grew up and after graduation, I joined the Army. Did a couple of tours and got out.”
“You were in the Army?”
He noted her voice sounded strangled, but he nodded. “Yeah…I was a mechanic…did a tour in Kabul and Kandahar.”
“You were in Afghanistan?”
Wishing he could see her face, he leaned closer, feeling her shoulder now against his. “Hey, what is it?”
A long sigh ensued. “I was a nurse…Army Reserve. I was in Kandahar also, but only for a short time.”
“Wow, small world.” They were both quiet for a few minutes, before he asked, “You aren’t a nurse anymore?”
“I…no…I…uh…don’t practice now. Not directly. I edit manuscripts…from home.”
Wanting to know more, he remained quiet, hearing the hesitation and heartbreak in her voice. Uncertain how to proceed, he was grateful when she asked him more about his childhood, since that topic seemed to take the sadness from her voice. Grinning, he settled back, making sure to keep her close as he began to regale her with tales of Miss Ethel and his brothers’ antics.
“Zander has always been the fearless one,” he began. “He had a rough background and by the time he landed on Miss Ethel’s doorstep, he was used to taking care of himself. I guess it would be easy to assume he was only out for himself, but he seemed to relish having the rest of us to take care of as well.”
Eleanor relaxed deeper into the cushions, smiling at the animated way he talked about his friends, trying to imagine him as a young boy.
“Cael actually has a family…well, a sister. She was a teenager when they needed help and wasn’t old enough to take care of him. But they’re close and now he has a niece to dote on. Then there are the twins, Jaxon and Jayden.” Laughing, he said, “They were a mess. They’d always try to trip Miss Ethel up, but she could tell them apart instantly. I don’t know how she did it, but she never got them mixed up. All of their teachers did, but not her.”
Eleanor laughed at the idea of twin boys, seeking attention, trying to confuse their foster mom. “And Asher?”
“Asher was the youngest for a while. He was quiet…I guess he was in awe of the rest of the gang.” Letting his mind rove back over their childhood, he said, “Now that I think about it, Asher was quiet but not a pushover. I think he has natural goodness about him, he’s certa
inly the voice of reason more often than not now that we’re older.”
“How on earth did Miss Ethel do it? Raise all those boys?”
“Oh, that’s not all of us. Don’t forget Zeke. He came along a few years before Zander and I left to join the Army. Plus, she had others coming as well. We were just her first group.” He was quiet for a moment and then added, “And as to how she did it? God only knows, but we’re thankful she did. I remember the social workers and our teachers all saying how she was the best foster mom.”
“It’s a gift, don’t you think?”
Nodding, he agreed. “Absolutely. She used to say that God gives each of us different gifts and it’s up to us to find out what they are and use them. Hers was definitely giving love to a bunch of rowdy boys who needed it more than anything.”
“And your gift, Rafe?”
Chuckling, he said, “I guess I got mine from my dad. I love working with growing plants. The forces of nature bend and twist them, but they always come back. Like the little flower that comes up between the cracks in the sidewalk or the tree that clings to the side of a rocky mountain. Miss Ethel always told me that plants can teach us a lot.”
Her voice tremulous, she said, “You’re right. And how wonderful for you that you’ve found your gift and it’s become your passion.”
He wanted to ask what her gift was, but did not want to halt their easy conversation. Her soft sigh broke the quiet of the room and for the millionth time he wished he could see her face.
17
The heavy rains finally slowed to a drizzle after lunch, but Rafe and Eleanor continued to stay warm and dry, enjoying each other’s company. Settling in the family room again, this time with no fire, they sat closely facing each other. He found his hand continually drifting toward her, nervous until he felt her fingers link with his.
Rafe: Heroes at Heart Page 11