by Francis Ray
Rage went through Kristen. His father. “The bastard!”
“You aren’t talking about Rafe, are you?” Angelique guessed correctly.
“No, and I can’t discuss it. Thank you.” Kristen stood. “We better hurry if we’re going to make it to church.”
Angelique slowly came to her feet and stuck her small, red leather clutch beneath her arm. “I debated if I should go today.”
Kristen grabbed her own turquoise bag that exactly matched her suit and shoes. “Why? You need the time on your dissertation?”
“Damien didn’t leave until almost two this morning.”
Kristen whooped and linked her arm though her best friend’s. “I have a feeling if that kept people away from church, attendance would drop sharply.”
“I like him. I really like him. This isn’t a whim or just sex.” Angelique bit her lower lip.
“I know,” Kristen said, seeing the fear in Angelique’s face, hearing it in her voice. “Hopefully, someday we’ll look back on this and laugh.”
“If not, we’ll hunt Damien and Rafe down and make them pay for breaking our hearts,” Angelique said, her gaze narrowed.
“Exactly.”
Laughing, they went out the door.
twenty-three
When the sun sent its rays into Rafe’s shop early Sunday morning, he was there working. He hadn’t even attempted to go to bed. He’d known it would be pointless. With every breath, he inhaled Kristen’s exotic fragrance; when he brushed shavings away, he recalled the softness of her skin; the curve of the cabriole leg reminded him of her graceful body. She invaded his mind, and there didn’t seem to be any way to keep her out.
The phone rang and he was unable to stop the leap of his heart, the hope that sprang within him. Kristen.
His body paused as if frozen as he counted the rings. Two. Three. Four. He heard the click of the answering machine picking up the call.
“Rafe, this is Shayla.”
He turned wildly toward the phone at the first sound of his sister’s voice. He hadn’t heard it for seven years, hadn’t heard her say his name for eight.
The last time he’d seen her was at his father’s trial during his divorce from Lilly. He’d testified against the bastard and Shayla had turned against him. She only knew their father’s love and gentleness. Not the back of his hand, the sting of his belt, the hurt of his words.
“Daddy’s sick. Real sick. Cancer.” Her voice broke, then continued. “He wants to see you. You have to come. Please, Rafe. He didn’t mean it.”
Didn’t mean it! He laughed until tears streamed down his cheeks. That man had marked his skin and his soul, and he hadn’t meant it.
“He’s at M.D. Anderson in Houston.” She gave the phone number of the world-renowned cancer center and his room number. “You have to come. He’s forgiven you.”
“Forgiven me?” Rafe cried incredulously. “For showing the town what a cruel coward he was and not the pious deacon he pretended?”
“Now it’s your turn,” she continued. “Grandmo—”
“Shut up!” He sent the cabriole leg flying against the wall. His tenuous control had snapped at the casual mention of his grandmother who had prayed and grieved for the son she’d loved to no avail.
At a time when divorce had been unheard of, she’d moved from Chicago back to her hometown of Little Elm with her two small children to get them away from her abusive husband. Her faith had sustained her when her husband died in an automobile accident six months later, and when her oldest child died of rheumatic fever within a year of his father. The son that had survived turned out to be just like his father. She’d always regretted that she hadn’t seen through her husband, regretted that she hadn’t been able to save her youngest son.
She had been so full of love. She loved her selfish granddaughter although Shayla had been too busy with her husband in Houston to visit her grandmother during the last year of her life. Their grandmother had never said one bad thing about Shayla.
“Grandmother would want you to come. You know she would.”
Realizing the answering machine would record as long as she talked, he headed toward the back door. His sister’s pleading voice grew fainter and fainter until he stood in the bright morning sun, breathing in the fresh air, not the stench of hate and cruelty that had been his father’s legacy to his oldest child and only son.
“If I see him it will be to send him to hell quicker.”
His hands clenched and unclenched. He turned one way, then the next, not knowing where he wanted to go or what he wanted to do. All he knew was that his sister’s phone call had plunged him into misery and memories.
“You bastard! You fucking bastard! I hate you! You hear? I hate you and hope you die screaming!”
Rafe took off running, unaware that tears were coursing down his cheeks. He fought the thick underbrush as much as he fought the memories that washed over him. He stumbled, righted himself, then batted away branches and bushes that tried to impede his headlong flight until his lungs and legs protested and he could go no farther. He dropped to his knees in the deep shadows of the woods. His shoulders shook from the sobs that racked his body.
The phone call had dropped him into hell and he wasn’t sure he could climb out again.
* * *
Her phone was ringing when Kristen let herself back into her apartment. Waving good-bye to Angelique, she closed the door and rushed across the room. “Hello,” she answered, still in good spirits after church and a crazy, fun time with Angelique at a champagne brunch at Brennan’s. They’d eaten in the courtyard and pigged out on Bananas Foster, enjoying themselves thoroughly.
“Kristen, thank God!”
Her smile froze at the frantic sound of Lilly’s voice. “What is it?”
“It’s Rafe—”
“No!” she protested, her knees turning to water as she sank to the floor. “No!”
“Kristen, he’s not hurt,” Lilly rushed on. “At least not in the physical sense. Kristen, did you hear me?”
The fear slowly receded. She pulled her legs under her. “I’m sorry.”
“I love you for caring,” Lilly said, a catch in her voice. “He’ll need all of us who love him, if he’s to get through this.”
“What happened?”
“His sister called him this morning instead of waiting as I asked her until I could fly down and be with Rafe in person to tell him. His father is in the hospital, dying with cancer. They only give him a couple of months at the most. He wants to see Rafe.”
“After what he did to Rafe?” Kristen yelled, coming to her feet.
“Abusers can be healed, Kristen.”
“You think that makes up for what he did to Rafe, the hell he put him through, continues to put him through?” she raged, stalking across the room with the cordless phone clenched in her hand. “Rafe is by himself because of what his father did to him.”
“And the only way Rafe will be free is to forgive him and move on. I know.”
Kristen closed her eyes. Lilly had been abused as well. “I’m not sure I’d have it in me to do what you’ve been able to do.”
“It wasn’t easy, and I might not have if not for Mother Crawford. She taught me what love and faith were all about. Then I met Adam and I wanted him more than I wanted to hang on to my hatred.”
Kristen immediately wondered if Rafe’s feelings for her could help him to heal. “Have you talked with him?”
“No, and I’m worried,” Lilly admitted. “I’ve tried to call since Shayla called an hour ago. His answering machine keeps picking up. He doesn’t answer his beeper. He never does that. I’d fly down, but Adam Jr. has an ear infection. His fever just broke this morning. I can’t leave him and I can’t take him on the plane.”
Kristen easily heard the distress in her sister-in-law’s voice. She loved both of them, her stepson and her son. “I’ll go out to his place.”
“Thank you. I was hoping you could.” There was a long pause. “Krist
en, there is something you should know first. He may be upset. If he is, I’m not sure how he’ll react. Adam would fly down, but he has two critical surgeries tomorrow that he can’t reschedule.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said, her concern for Rafe overshadowing everything else. “I’ll call you as soon as I can. Kiss Adam Jr. for me.”
“I will. Adam wants to talk to you.”
Kristen didn’t have to guess what he wanted. He was the proverbial big brother. The cordless in one hand, she went to her bedroom, her other hand freeing the buttons on her suit jacket.
“Kristen, I know you two are becoming friends, but he has a lot to contend with right now.”
“I’m aware of that.” Switching the phone to the other ear, she pulled off her linen jacket; her skirt followed.
“He’s a good man, but he’s hurting. I don’t want him to hurt you,” Adam said flatly.
“You were hurting, too, when you lost your sight.” She reached in her closet for a pair of trousers and a sleeveless cotton blouse. “You never took your anger out on Lilly or any of us physically, and neither will Rafe.”
“You don’t know that,” Adam told her, his voice taking on a bit of an edge.
Kristen stuck the phone in the crook of her neck, took off her stockings, then reached for her slacks. “I do. I’m not afraid of Rafe. I’m not the little girl who’s afraid of facing the world anymore. Rafe’s my friend. He was there for me, and I plan to be there for him.”
“What are you talking about? What happened?” A sudden sharpness entered his voice.
“I’ll explain later.” She shoved her arm into her blouse. “Just know I’m happy and finally finding my way. You and Mother can’t be with me all the time. It’s way past time I did things on my own. I may make mistakes, but this isn’t one of them.”
“Sounds as if you grew up on us when we weren’t looking,” Adam said slowly, the concern in his voice lessening. “Call.”
“I will. Thanks for the note of confidence, and tell Lilly not to worry. ’Bye.” Disconnecting the phone, she pitched it on the bed and was out the door.
* * *
Rafe had no idea how long he stayed in the woods. He staggered to his feet, tried to get his bearings, then started back. It was an effort to put one foot in front of the other. He felt old and useless, and so tired.
He broke from the clearing and saw the last person he wanted to see. She started running toward him, her beautiful face pinched with worry. He backed away.
Wide-eyed, she stopped in front of him. Her hand lifted toward his face. He flinched.
“Let’s go inside,” she said, her voice shaky.
“Go home.”
“I’m staying.”
He didn’t doubt her. Weaving on his feet, he started back into the woods. He hadn’t gone ten feet before he sensed her behind him. He whirled, rage pouring through him. “I told you to leave!”
Her delicate chin jutted. “I can be just as stubborn as you.”
Once he might have doubted her, but in the past weeks Kristen had shown him a strength and courage he hadn’t known she possessed. She was dressed in a white sleeveless blouse and coral-colored, silky-looking pants that would offer no protection against the thick underbrush. The strapless coral sandals on her narrow feet weren’t much better. Even now he felt the stings on his own face and hands, and he was a lot tougher and wore more protective clothes.
Told you you’d hurt anything you touched. Believe me now?
Rafe turned away, bile and rage bubbling up in his throat. “Kristen, just go.”
“Friends help friends.”
He wished he didn’t want her friendship, didn’t crave her smile and her carefree laughter. Afraid if she didn’t leave soon, he’d weaken and grab her and never let her go, he faced her. “I don’t need anyone.”
She didn’t even blink at his biting tone, the rage emanating from him. She simply took her cell phone from the little bag dangling from her shoulder and punched in a number, all the time her gaze locked with his. “Lilly, he’s all right except for a few scratches on his face and hands from a walk in the woods. We’re going inside to get them cleaned up and I’ll call later.” She deactivated the phone and put it away. “Let’s go, Rafe.”
“I don’t need you.” His voice sounded hoarse and scratchy.
“That’s debatable.” She reached for him.
Again he flinched.
Her arm remained extended toward him. “I’m not leaving until your injuries are taken care of.”
Why did she have to be so stubborn? Why couldn’t she understand that he felt unclean, embarrassed, and oh, so damn lost and alone? Why couldn’t she understand she was everything he wanted and everything he couldn’t have and it was ripping him apart?
“Would you rather have Lilly worrying about you while Adam Jr. has an ear infection and is running a temperature?”
“Adam Jr. is sick?” Worry replaced the desperation in his eyes.
Compassion shone in her face. “Do you think if you needed Lilly, anything less than Adam or Adam Jr. would keep her from being here?”
He felt as if he’d been sucker-punched in the gut, his darkest shame revealed. “What did she tell you?” he asked, stalking to her. “What did she say?”
Kristen gazed up at him without flinching from the savagery in his face. “She’s been trying to reach you for most of the morning. She was worried, and I offered to come and check on you.”
His relief was so great, he almost dropped to his knees. She didn’t know the disgrace he lived with daily.
“Now, can we go inside and get you cleaned up?” she asked casually, shoving the strap of the handbag up over her shoulder.
“I can do it,” he said.
“But I can do it better. Besides, you heard me promise Lilly.” Her hand closed slowly around his arm. She felt the flex of tense muscle and tried to slow her racing heart. It had taken every ounce of her control not to cower when he had asked why Lilly had called.
“Have you seen your alligator lately?” She glanced around, then started toward his shop.
“No,” the answer was clipped. It didn’t invite conversation.
“Good.” With her free hand she opened the back door and followed him inside. “I bet you haven’t called the zoo about gator repellent, either.” She continued as if not expecting an answer. “Adam Jr. will probably love hearing about it.”
Rafe grunted.
“Probably ask if you and he could trap it.” She thought he’d balk at the spiral staircase. He didn’t. “I can picture it now. He’d use that computer he loves to be on to learn all about alligators, then he’d talk you into scouting the area and camping out all night to catch it.”
Rafe opened the door to his upstairs apartment. “He’s smart.”
“Just like his big brother.” The muscles of his arm flexed beneath her fingertips.
With ridiculous ease, he twisted free. The harshness was back in his face. Kristen could have cried. Adam Jr.’s father loved him; Rafe’s father had abused him. “Come on into the bathroom.”
“I can manage,” Rafe said, his voice cold, inflexible.
“Let me help,” she said, unable to keep the quake out of her voice.
A muscle leaped in his bronzed jaw. “If you’re afraid of me, why are you here pushing it?”
Her eyes widened. She punched him square in the chest with her small fist, surprising them both. “I’m not afraid of you! I don’t know why you keep bringing up such an idiotic idea.”
“You’re shaking in your high-priced shoes, that’s why!” he boomed back, angry with her and the impossible situation.
She hit him again. “Concern. Not fear. Look at you!” She gestured wildly. “Your beautiful face is all scratched up.” She picked up his hands. Hers trembled. “So are your hands, and they have to hurt.”
Not as much as the ache in my heart for you, he wanted to say. Tears formed in her eyes and he panicked. “Don’t cry.”
; Kristen freed his hands and brushed angrily across her face. “I wouldn’t cry over a hard-headed man like you.”
He couldn’t help it; he brushed her hair away from her face. She was so beautiful. “Good.”
“Well, go ahead and get cleaned up.” Swiping impatiently across her face, she turned toward the tiny kitchen. “I could use some iced tea. You got any?”
“In the cabinet to the right of the sink.”
She opened the bottom cabinet for a pan and filled it with water. On tiptoes, she retrieved the box of tea from the upper shelf, then turned toward him. He remained unmoving. “Those scratches won’t get cleaned by themselves.”
He started toward the bathroom, telling himself that he had made the right decision to do this himself, that he didn’t want Kristen touching him—and knowing he lied.
* * *
When Rafe came out of the bathroom after showering and changing clothes, she was gone. His gaze quickly surveyed the room. It was as empty as it had always been.
He headed where he always did when he was troubled, his shop. His feet pounded on the stairs as he quickly went to the bottom floor. Had he really expected her to hang around a man who couldn’t even offer her gentleness?
He was several steps away from the stairs when he heard the mutters. He spun, his pulse pounding, and saw Kristen surrounded by three open boxes and an assortment of lamp parts.
With a screwdriver in one hand and a piece of paper in the other she glared up at him. “It’s about time you showed up.”
He didn’t even know he was smiling as he went toward her and hunkered down in front of the carnage. “You’re supposed to assemble one at a time.”
She blew her long, black silky hair out of her eye. “I’m aware of that, but when one wouldn’t act right, I got another one, and before I knew it I had this … this…”
“Mess.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Let’s see how you do.” She handed him the screwdriver and three sets of instructions, then picked up her glass of iced tea.
The only spot free of parts in the circle around her was next to her. He didn’t hesitate. “Move over.”
He stepped over the entrails of three lamps and came down next to her, crossing his legs under him. “Which one first?”