RafeHeroes at Heart

by Maryann Jordan

  Relaxing into the cushions again, he allowed her music to fill his soul.

  Eleanor lay in bed that night, the thought of Rafe across the hall filling her mind with visions of his perfect body…and what she knew would never come to pass. Him holding her. Kissing her. Loving her.

  Rolling over, punching the pillow, she used all the tricks she had learned to fall asleep. When in pain, she would empty her mind to find rest. But tonight, sleep was elusive. Flopping to her back, she stared at the ceiling, counting all of the things the fire had taken from her.

  When in such a dark mood she always thought of her family, for if they were not traveling to visit her in the hospital they would still be alive. She thought of her inability to be in the sun, her burn scars too tender for the heat, therefore giving up her outdoor pleasures. She thought of giving up her career, unwilling to face the stares from others. And, she thought of her lost beauty, but knowing vanity was a sin, she tried not to dwell on her appearance.

  But, tonight, it was the loss of the chance of a relationship that ate at her the most. A handsome man was just across the hall, but would never be hers. A silent tear slid down her cheeks, the loss of what she had never known causing her heart to ache.

  Light pierced Rafe’s vision as he blinked in the pale morning light. He remembered pushing the gauze bandage from his eyes during the night, the material irritating. And now, the rain had stopped and the morning’s sun was beginning to peek through the clouds, filling the room with a slight glow.

  Jerking up in bed, he looked around the large room, thrilled that his vision was back, thanking God for the gift of sight. He was sitting in an oak, carved-poster bed, covered with a maroon, down comforter. The tall windows to his left allowed the sunlight to shine through, matching maroon curtains pulled back with brocade ties.

  A settee and chair were placed near the window. A tall chest of drawers was to the right, the oak matching the bed. Wood floors were covered with a plush, navy rug, edged in maroon leaves. Paneling covered the lower portion of the walls with ivory paint above to the ceiling. Ornately carved wood created the chair rail and crown molding. Elegantly framed pictures covered the walls, giving evidence of having awakened inside the walls of great house.

  Desiring to take it all in, mother nature called instead. He hurried into the bathroom, the bright lights almost blinding. After using the facilities, he moved to the mirror, studying the cut on his brow. There was still swelling around his left eye making it difficult to open it completely. The edges of the cut were mending, but there was no doubt a small scar would remain, a reminder of his time here at Bellamy House.

  Smiling, he could not wait to surprise Eleanor with his now open eyes. Quickly dressing in his jeans, he figured he’d get a clean shirt when he got back to his cottage. Stepping across the hall, he rapped his knuckles on her closed door.

  “Rafe? What’s wrong?” The door flew open, Eleanor’s hair waving wildly about her head, a sleep crease down her cheek and a light blue robe hanging off her shoulder, as she jerked her eyes to his.

  “Hey gorgeous,” he said, his smile wide, arms thrown out to the side. Thrilled to be able to see her, finally, his eyes devoured her face. Her porcelain complexion was pale against her dark, silky hair. Her lips were full and he imagined them as she sang, her voice pure. She was a foot shorter than he, her body slight, but definite curves hit his gaze, her robe barely covering her matching nightgown. Her eyes were the deepest brown as they met his, unfocused at first before flying open wide.

  A sudden intake of breath met his ears. She held his gaze for an instant, before whirling around, presenting her back to him. “I…I thought something was wrong.”

  He placed his strong hands on her shoulders, feeling them tremble beneath his touch. “Please, Eleanor, don’t be upset. I’ve been dying to see you.” He noted the burn scars on the side of her neck, from her ear down, disappearing underneath the robe.

  “Why?” she choked out.

  “Because…you’re special to me. Someone I want to know…spend time with. The past few days have only sparked my desire to get to know you more.”

  She turned slightly, her unblemished side facing him. “I…I’m not ready for this, Rafe. I wasn’t prepared for you to see me.”

  “Your scars don’t scare me, Eleanor. They’re part of you…part of what makes you an amazing woman.”

  Eleanor lifted her sideways gaze to Rafe as she wrapped her arms around her waist in a protective stance. Swallowing deeply, she stared into his gorgeous face, his piercing eyes only making him more handsome. “I…I can’t do this now. I’m sorry.” With that, she stepped back into her room, closing the door and locking it with a resounding click.

  Heart heavy, Rafe walked over the wet grass toward the cottage. Has it only been two days since I was last here? It seemed much longer. He knew he needed to look around, see what downed trees would need to be taken care of, but all he could think about was how things had ended with Eleanor.

  He had stood at her closed door, pleading with her to talk to him. She had…from the other side of the door. Her honesty touched him.

  “I’ve loved the past days with you, Rafe, but this is too much, too soon. I’m just not ready.”

  He knew that to argue with her feelings of insecurity would only make things worse, so he left, vowing to her that he would give her time to accept his friendship. He stopped at the door of the cottage, his feet almost stumbling. Friendship and, hopefully, more…but she’s not ready to hear that.

  Throwing open the door, he entered, breathing the familiar woodsy scent in deeply. He stripped and climbed into the shower, the hot water sluicing over his body. Finished, he looked into the mirror at the healing cut, swiping some antibiotic cream across it. Grateful to pull on clean clothes, he fixed a bowl of oatmeal, planning his day.

  First, cut away the downed tree from the driveway to make it passable. He had glanced at the terrace on his way out of the house and knew that might take some help. He also needed to buy a new phone and check in with Miss Ethel and his brothers. Rinsing his bowl, he formulated his day’s plans.

  Eleanor stood at a window overlooking the grounds, watching as Rafe walked through the wet grass toward his cottage. She noticed every nuance of his body. His broad shoulders, his trim waist, and his dark hair. The way his jeans fit snugly over his thighs and cupped his firm ass. The way his biceps bulged from the t-shirt. A perfect masculine specimen.

  Drawing in a shaky breath, she hated the way she hid from him when he had been so excited to have his vision back. Dropping the heavy drapes, she turned from the window. But I need time…time to get used to him. He wants to become a friend and I want so much more.

  Walking down the stairs, she entered the kitchen and, soon, with her fingers wrapped around a cup of strong coffee, her cold hands began warming. After only two days of his company, the room seemed too quiet, too empty. Sitting at the table with a bowl of cereal, she sighed, the loneliness no longer comforting but, instead, threatening to choke her.

  In the distance, she heard the familiar sound of a chainsaw and jumped up to see what he was doing. Moving through the foyer she opened the front door and spied him in the driveway, his truck nearby while he sawed the downed tree. Even at a distance, she could see the muscles in his arms and back move as he bent and flexed in his task.

  Maybe…maybe…I could learn to have him look at me. Maybe a friendship with him would be okay. At least I’d have him in my life. Sucking in a deep breath, she determined to approach him when he finished the driveway, to ask him to come to the house for lunch.

  She watched as he moved the logs to the side of the drive and placed the saw in the bed of his truck. But, instead of getting in and driving back to the cottage, he started the truck and headed down the drive until he was out of sight. Gone.

  Her knees buckled and she landed in a heap at her front door, a sob wrenching from her chest. She had thought that him seeing her, with all her scars, would be the worst thi
ng that could happen, but the idea of him leaving caused her heart to ache in a way she had not felt in a long time.

  It was all too much. The emotional roller coaster she had been on for the past few days careened off the tracks. With no strength left she slumped over, her arms wrapping around her bent knees, the sob coming from deep within. She cried aloud, knowing there was no one to hear her pain.

  19

  “Why didn’t you tell me?

  Rafe sat in Miss Ethel’s living room, staring at the beloved woman standing in her kitchen, her delicate, but strong, hands busy working bread dough. She glanced his way before looking back down at her task.

  “Come on, Miss Ethel, don’t you think that I could’ve handled things better if I had known about her injuries? I thought my employer was an older lady, shut-in due to age or something. If I’d known about Eleanor, I could have…I don’t know…been more prepared.”

  Miss Ethel turned from the counter, her sharp gaze landing squarely on him. “And if I had…would it have made any difference to how you performed your tasks?”

  He opened and closed his mouth several times, unable to produce an answer.

  “That’s what I thought,” she said, her eyes warm on him. “Oh, Rafe dear, you must know that Eleanor’s story was for her to tell…in her way and in her time, if ever. For all I knew, you would never meet her, simply work on her grounds for the summer and then leave. You did not need to know the particulars of your employer.”

  Shoulders drooping, he knew she was right. He had been satisfied doing just that…until I heard her sing.

  Turning back to the dough, she rolled it out and busied herself making it into biscuits. “What do you think of her?”

  He leaned his hip against the counter, scrubbing his hand over his face, wincing when his fingers hit his cut. “She’s…she’s remarkable. She could have easily become a society woman, but she became a nurse. And a nurse with the Army Reserve for goodness sake. Still, to have served in Afghanistan…” His mind traveled across the ocean to his time in the Army. While the Hunk Calendar might have publicly defined his time over there, he knew the horrors of war as well as anyone.

  Sliding the rolls into the oven, Miss Ethel washed her hands before wiping them on a dishtowel. Turning around, she walked over to him, reaching her hand up to gently touch his face. “She did a good job patching you up without stitches. I don’t think a small scar will mar your handsome face.”

  The cocky reply that would have normally slipped out, caught in his throat. Shaking his head, he said, “Nah…this is nothing.”

  Patting his cheek, she said, “I think your brothers are here. You want to go greet them and then you all can set the table?”

  He bent to kiss her cheek, her papery skin warm underneath his lips. “Yes, ma’am.” Just as he turned, hearing the front door open and Jaxon calling out his greetings, she held him in place with her hand on his arm.

  “Rafe? You’ll find a way to make things better. Remember, roses take a long time to cultivate…but when they bloom, it’s worth the wait.” With another pat on his arm, she turned back to the stove.

  Within a few minutes, the house filled with the sounds of the men greeting one another, catching up on their lives. Rosalie’s soft voice cut in through the masculine bantering as she cooed in concern over Rafe’s injury. Miss Ethel soon called them to lunch, and the large gathering settled around the table. After saying the blessing, they dug in.

  Rafe told them about Eleanor, as much as he felt he should share, and as the meal ended he looked around. “Guys, I have a favor, but only for anyone who can spare the time.”

  His announcement quickly gathered everyone’s attention. “The cleanup of the grounds I can handle…and want to. But the terrace that she is able to sit on and be shaded from the hot sun is a mess, the trellis is in shreds from the storm. I want to get it made right as soon as I can—”

  “What do you need?” Jayden interrupted. “Name it and we’ll help.”

  The others voiced their agreement, drawing a sharp intake of breath from him. Rafe knew they would help but he was uncertain of their willingness to drop everything at a moments notice for someone they did not even know. Glancing at Miss Ethel’s smiling face, he said, “The large limb that fell on me needs to be cleared out. My plans were to take it down in sections but when the whole thing fell, well…you know how that ended. So, it needs to be cut up and hauled away. It also fell on her trellis, which was the very thing I was trying to prevent. It’s totally crushed and I’m not going to be able to build it by myself.”

  “When do we start?” Zander asked, his smile wide as he winked at Rosalie.

  “Soon as you can,” came his quick reply.

  “Nothing like the present,” Cael said. “I’ve got nothing going on this afternoon.”

  The room resounded with agreements and Miss Ethel stood, saying, “Well, it looks like we have an afternoon full. Rosalie, will you help me pack up some of my cookies and we can take them when we visit?”

  “Uh…Miss Ethel,” Rafe jumped in, his brow knitting, causing him to wince. “I don’t think that’s a good idea—”

  “Nonsense,” she replied. “You all will be outside working and perhaps Eleanor would like a little female company.”

  Knowing Miss Ethel would not be deterred, he nodded but his stomach twisted nervously at the possible disaster coming.

  Eleanor was sitting in the study attempting to read, but her mind was not on the book. The vision of Rafe’s truck as it drove down the long drive, disappearing through the trees, stayed on her mind. Her heart still ached with a sense of emptiness and she wondered if it would ever be filled. How can I feel this way after only knowing him a couple of days? No answer came to her, but she knew something had shifted in her while in his presence. A feeling of dread had mingled with a glimmer of hope, and now it felt like that hope was lost.

  The sound of vehicles roaring closer caught her attention and she moved to the window to peer outside. Several trucks and SUVs, along with two motorcycles, sat in her driveway. A group of men, led by Rafe, and all nearly as handsome as he, walked toward the back of the manor, tools in their hands, smiles on their faces.

  Dropping the drapery, she stepped back quickly as though they would see her with x-ray vision. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she sucked in her lips, heart pounding. He came back...but he brought others, sending panic crashing into her world. Her head swung around as they made their way to the terrace, exclamations over the mess ringing out. Hearing the sound of chainsaws whirring, she slipped to one of the windows nearer the terrace and peeked out. Rafe had tossed his shirt to the grass, his upper body muscles and tattoos flexing with each movement. Unable to tear her eyes away, she barely noticed the other men as they worked, her focus entirely on the man who had held her thoughts all day.

  The doorbell sounded, jerking her attention from the man candy outside. Unable to fathom who would be visiting, she suddenly felt as though her quiet, ordered world was coming unglued. Moving down the hall, she walked through the foyer to the front door, looking through the peephole to see who was there. Miss Ethel…and another woman. The desire to pretend to not be home filled her, but knew that would be taking the easy way out. And Miss Ethel knows I never leave, so she’d know I was lying.

  Swallowing deeply, pulling her hair over her right shoulder to cover as much of the exposed scarring as she could, she opened the door and angled her body out of habit to show her unblemished left side. “Miss Ethel, what a surprise. Please come in.”

  She stood back, allowing the older woman to enter before pressing a kiss to her cheek. Looking anxiously toward the other woman, now visible and clearly beautiful, she nodded her greeting.

  The young woman offered a broad smile and, much to Eleanor’s shock, pulled her into a deep hug.

  “I’m so glad to meet you. I’m Rosalie, Zander’s fiancé. He and Rafe are best friends,” she gushed.

  “Uh…”

  Rosalie didn
’t seem to notice Eleanor’s discomfort as she continued, “Miss Ethel and I wanted to bring you some cookies while the men work.”

  “Uh…”

  Patting her arm, Miss Ethel assured, “Don’t worry, my dear. We won’t inflict the group on you. The men are perfectly happy working outside to reclaim your terrace, while we women have a chance to chat.”

  Nodding her head in a jerky motion, she finally remembered her manners. “Please, come on back. Uh…we can sit in the—”

  “Oh, the kitchen will be lovely,” Miss Ethel said, moving down the hall. “I remember sitting in the kitchen a few times with your mother and grandmother. We always said that tea among friends was better served in mugs over a kitchen table instead of fine china in a formal room.”

  Unable to stop the smile from crossing her face at the thought of her mother and grandmother sitting at the table with Miss Ethel, she led them into the kitchen, placing the kettle on the stove. Within a few minutes, they were all ensconced at the table, her two guests talking to her as though they were old friends.

  She nervously patted her hair down her right side until finally Miss Ethel reached her hand over and touched her gently. “My dear, you are beautiful…just like your mother. A few scars only enhance the woman that you have been and still are.”

  Her gaze darting between the two, the looks on their faces gave evidence to their acceptance. “I…it’s hard.” Shrugging, she explained, “I’m not vain…at least I try not to be, but…the world sees the outside of a person.”

  Heavy silence stretched between them before Rosalie whispered, “Then, damn the world, Eleanor. Just be you.”

  “I try,” she whispered. “It’s hard to be brave when you’re all alone.”

  “Of course, it is, dear. But being alone is part of your choice. There have been a great many things that happened to you that were not your choice. But for the things that are, you have the freedom to change that decision.”