RafeHeroes at Heart

by Maryann Jordan

  Her brow lowered. “Freedom?”

  “The freedom to just be me. Not Rafe, the model. Rafe, the body. Rafe, the face. You gave me the freedom to just be Rafe, the friend, the groundskeeper.”

  “And lover?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he enthused, reaching out and taking her hands in his, elated when she did not pull them away. “You were falling for the real me. The man, not the reputation.”

  “The article—”

  “Baby, if I could get my hands on the person who took that picture, they’d never take another picture the rest of their lives!”

  She jerked at his vehemence, but felt his righteous anger. Finally, giving a slight shrug, she sighed. “I’m sorry for losing sight of who you are after reading the article. For not giving you time and understanding, like you gave me. For taking one look at that article and believing the worst.” Sighing, she added, “Rafe, I’m also sorry that I can’t stop seeing that picture and reading those words. As much as they hurt, they’re true. You are beautiful. The world looks at that picture and sees me as a pity fu—”

  “Don’t you say it,” he growled. “Don’t you dare sully what we had.”

  “It’s not me, Rafe. Don’t you get it? I’ve been the subject of stares and whispers since I got back.”

  “The only thing that matters, Eleanor, is how you feel about yourself. You’re standing in your own way by not seeing how beautiful you are. The beauty, inside and out, that I see. Everyone else can be damned.”

  “I hear you, but my ego took a beating,” she admitted. “Actually, it’s been pummeled for a while. I suppose it will take a while for that to heal.”

  “I’ll do anything to help you see yourself as I see you, as you really are,” he vowed, his hand sliding down her arm to grasp her fingers, remaining quietly watchful. “And to build your trust in me, too.”

  She thought for a moment and then said, “Can you tell me about your life, the one in California? If we’re going to build something new, then I need to know all about Rafe Walker, not just the bits you choose to share.”

  28

  Rafe leaned back in his chair, scrubbing his hand over his face. He hated exposing her to the world he used to exist in but it was too late for that. Mostly, he hated to face what she would think of him once she knew, but, he realized they had no chance of creating a new relationship if he was not honest. Sucking in a deep breath, he let it out slowly before he began.

  “I’ve told you of growing up and joining the military, but I never told you much about my time in the Army. I was a mechanic, not because of any great love for trucks, just small engines, especially the ones like Miss Ethel let me use in the yard and garden. I used to take them apart and fix them when they broke.” Shrugging, he said, “Figured I scored high enough on the mechanical part of the ASVAB, so that’s the training I did. The work was physical, but we also had some downtime. By then, I was a big guy and we had weights we worked with. I bulked up even more and got in good shape.”

  Blowing out his breath, he continued. “One day, a group of us were shittin’ around, working out without our shirts on, flexing our muscles, playing volleyball or something and a photographer came by to take some shots. At first it was just for an article on how soldiers spend their downtime, but this guy got excited and wanted to know if we would be interested in posing for a calendar. You know, hunky soldier kind of crap.” He felt the burn of the blush on his face but he forged ahead. “We all said sure and the next thing I know, I was Mr. July. The damn thing went viral, some video of our photo shoot ended up on YouTube and Facebook. I figured that was it…fifteen minutes of fame. And we sure as hell only got paid about fifty bucks each and I know that calendar made tens of thousands of dollars for the guy who put it together.”

  He hesitated at her eyes, wide with surprise, as she shook her head, mumbling, “Mr. July?”

  Blushing more, he nodded. “I only had about three more months left and I wasn’t going to re-enlist. Zander was getting out and I wanted to head to Virginia. I had no clue what I was going to do, but I wanted to get back to my roots. I ended up getting an offer to do some modeling by an agent who saw the calendar. Figured, ‘Why not?’, and the next thing I know, I’m off to California. The modeling contracts came in and I kept doing it. Seemed like easy money and at first that was great. Then I got a big contract with a designer of men’s swimwear and the next thing I know, my body is plastered all over magazines.”

  Eleanor watched his face carefully, noting the unease at his confessions. So far, there was nothing he had told her that gave her concern. Reaching over, she placed her hand on his leg. “It all makes sense, Rafe. I can see getting excited about the money and the freedom it gave you.”

  Rafe’s heart clenched at her trust and, for an instant, he considered leaving the rest of it out, but dismissed that thought. Not only would an internet search show her more, but she deserved to know it all from him. If she’s going to take me back, she’s got to know who all I used to be.

  “There’s more, babe, but this is the part that’s hard to admit.” He watched with dismay as her hand left his leg and she sat back in her chair, visibly steeling herself.

  “There was a certain lifestyle that went along with the modeling world. I had moved quickly into the national spotlight as far as modeling went and the invites poured in. Parties, being seen with actresses, red carpet escorting. I swear, I did not let it go to my head, but I sure as hell made some poor choices.”

  “Poor choices?”

  Nodding, he dropped his chin to his chest as he rested his forearms on his thighs. Flashes of the parties bolted through his mind as he sifted through what to tell her. “Parties…lots of drinking…drugs, but I swear not by me. I never used drugs. But, alcohol was used to excess.”

  “And…”

  Clearing his throat, he lifted his head as he admitted, “Women. A few famous, but mostly just groupies. They were looking to say they were with a model and for us, it was…just easy.” His chest burned as he observed the understanding dawning in her eyes, followed by the wary coolness emanating from her.

  “It was a lifestyle that I kept up for about a year and then I began to see how shallow it was. I hated it and withdrew into my own little existence. I lived alone in a small efficiency and only had two other good friends I would hang out with.”

  “And Cherelle Parkinson?”

  Blowing out his breath, he shook his head. “My agent thought we looked perfect together and so we were photographed a lot, everywhere we went. A big mistake. We went on a few dates, but she was not my type. Fake, plastic, manipulative. I cut it off, but it took longer for her to get the message.”

  Her face paled, as she whispered, “Perfect…perfect together. I can see that.” Shaking her head, she leaped up from the chair, backing away.

  “No, Eleanor, please don’t do this. She…none of them mean anything to me,” he begged, jumping up as well, his hands fisting to his sides as he fought to reach out to her.

  A tear slid down her cheek as she swallowed deeply. “All that was before me, Rafe, so I can’t condemn your lifestyle, what you did, or who you did it with. But, don’t you see? The world expects you to be with someone perfect. Someone…not like me.”

  “Not the world, baby. Just those who think they can continue to make money off me. But my friends, your friends, the people that care about us as real people…they don’t have any expectations other than wanting us to be happy. And baby, you make me happy.”

  He stepped forward until she had to lean her head back to keep her gaze on his. Eleanor stared at his face for a long time, seeing nothing but sincerity in his eyes. Letting out a long, slow breath, she nodded before planting her forehead on his chest. Turning her face as he wrapped his arms around her, she felt his heartbeat against her cheek. “I know I’ve got a long way to go to gain my confidence,” she admitted, her soft voice barely heard over the breeze.

  “Baby, think of how far you’ve come since your injury.
You survived. You were beaten down, again and again, but you survived. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. That life is over for me and you are my future, if you’ll have me.”

  Nodding, she started to pull back but he held her close. “There’s one more thing I want to tell you.”

  Eleanor turned weary eyes to him, not sure if she could take much more.

  “When I was a kid, early teens, the awkward stage hit me hard. I was lanky with big hands and big feet. There was this other kid, Dickie, and he made it his mission in life to torture me, calling me names. Shrek, ogre…beast.” Her eyes wide, he cupped her cheek in his hand, “I can’t say I know exactly what you’re going through, not even close. But trust me when I say, the only people whose opinions matter are those you care about and those you love. But even more than that, is the opinion you have of yourself.”

  She stepped back, linking her hands with his. Looking down at her scarred hand, now nestled in his, she heard the conviction in his voice. With a little squeeze, she replied, “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” Turning to leave, she added, “I suppose if you are going to keep working here, you should move back into the cottage.”

  A smile spread across his face, watching her walk back into the house.

  That night, she found another rose in the chair, this one accompanied with,

  “I would rather look at you than all the portraits in the world…” Having a Coke With You by Frank O’Hara

  Rafe hauled his duffle bag back into the cottage, the warm space greeting him as an old friend. He had no idea if this would lead to Eleanor back in his life as anything more than an employer, but he planned on earning her trust day by day.

  Hearing a truck coming along the driveway, he stepped out onto the front stoop and looked up toward the manor. He watched as a Hayden Development truck pulled up and parked. How the hell can she still be thinking of selling her family home? The knowledge that she was so upset from a photographer with a long-range lens capturing her image that she was willing to give up something that meant so much to her, scored through him.

  Stalking up the hill, toward the front door, he watched as Eleanor opened the door to Mr. Hayden, welcomed the man inside and closed the door before he could reach it. Standing in the middle of the lawn, his hands on his hips, he cursed loud and long before stomping to the tool garage. In the crowded space, he turned around, uncertain what to work on today. Hell, if she’s selling, why does it matter what I do?

  Dropping his chin to his chest, he slowed his breathing. Trust. I have to trust that she knows what she’s doing. Loading the trailer with bags of mulch, he drove out to the flowerbeds, ready to start work.

  Making sure to be on the terrace at lunchtime, Rafe smiled as Eleanor walked outside, another tray in her hand. Rushing to take it from her, he placed it on the small table, having pre-arranged the seats to be close together. “Here, let me get that for you.”

  Eleanor’s lips twitched as she nodded, taking the seat indicated, realizing it put her scarred side closest to him…and that didn’t bother her. “I made a pie earlier. I thought you might like a piece.” If his enthusiastic smile was anything to go by, her idea was a good one.

  Eating in companionable silence, Rafe appreciated the two sandwiches, chips, apple slices, and pie. Swallowing, he said, “You don’t have to feed me, you know. I’d be satisfied to just sit with you.”

  “Rafe, we may not be what we were, but feeding you is not a hardship,” she smiled.

  He nodded, laying his fork down. “Can I ask you something?”

  Tilting her head to the side in curiosity, she nodded.

  “Can we ever get back to what we were?”

  Eleanor sat for a moment, fiddling with her pie. Sucking in her lips, she said, “I don’t think so, Rafe.” She saw his face fall, but quickly added, “But that doesn’t mean we can’t build something new.”

  He eyed her warily, waiting for her to continue.

  “When we became close before, you couldn’t see me, so you had a chance to get to know me without the external scars…or internal scars, getting in the way. For me, I saw you as…” a crease knit her brow as she searched for the right words. “I…uh…don’t know. Certainly not someone world famous.”

  “Would that have mattered? It was still me,” he said, his eyes pleading.

  A long pause filled the air between them as she considered his words, finding, to her chagrin that he was right. With another heavy sigh leaving her lips, she agreed. “You’re right. It was my insecurities that made me reject you. At first, I was so thrown by the nasty headline that it was easy to cast that blame on you. But, that wasn’t fair.”

  He leaned closer, careful, as though with a skittish animal. “And now…can you just see me as you did? A man who wants someone, who’s not impressed by all that fool’s gold, and just see me.”

  She held his eyes, their soulful depths calling to her. His face, so handsome, and yet with a childlike quality of someone who wanted to be loved. Without thinking, she lifted her scarred hand and cupped his stubbled jaw. As soon as her fingers touched his skin, she sucked in a quick breath as the warmth moved through her, straight to her chest. Heart pounding, she said, “I can see the real you…but what happens when the glitter calls again and you’re surrounded by people who don’t want you to be with me? Who only see me as—”

  “I’m not going back to that life.”

  She blinked slowly, her head jerking slightly.

  “My modeling contract is over and I don’t want that life anymore. It was empty. It was cold. I was wanted for a body, that was considered my only commodity.”

  A smile slipped across her lips and she said, “Well, it is a good body.”

  Leaning another inch closer, he said, “You’re the only one I want to be impressed now. Yours is the only opinion about my body that I care about.” His lips were barely a whisper apart from hers, but he hesitated, only wanting to take what she was willing to give.

  Her breath halted in her lungs as she watched him move closer and then stop. She felt lightheaded, desire curling through her body. She met his lips, giving over to the pull. The kiss was soft, gentle. His lips molded to hers and his tongue slipped inside as she moaned. He moved one hand to her waist, his calloused fingers flexing against her hip.

  He slowly leaned back an inch, her head following in an attempt to stay connected. He smiled at her slight mewl of discontent when their lips were no longer touching. Seeing her eyes widen, he explained, “I just want us to get to know each other again. This isn’t about sex, but about a deeper caring. I want you to trust me…trust that I’ll always take care of you.”

  Forcing his legs to stand, which was no easy feat considering the hard-on he sported, Rafe took the now-empty tray and carried it to the door, ushering her inside. “It’s getting hot, sweetheart. Stay in where it’s cool.” With one last kiss, he watched her go inside.

  That evening, another rose was left for Eleanor to cherish along with another note.

  "In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you." Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

  The sun had dipped below the horizon and Rafe sat in the small living area of the cottage reading, the room lit by a lamp next to the sofa. The room—and the activity—felt familiar and yet, lonely. He missed the evenings spent with Eleanor at his side as they read and chatted together. He looked back down at the book in his hand when a knock on the door startled him. Hopeful, his heart raced as he moved quickly to the door, throwing it open.

  His heart did not slow down at the sight of her standing there, looking utterly adorable and ever-so uncertain.

  “Hey,” she greeted, her voice breathy.

  “Hey,” he greeted in return, his hand still on the doorknob, hope flaring in his chest.

  “Um…can I come in?”

  Jumping back, he felt the heat crawl over his face at his gaffe. “God, sorry. Yes, yes, come
in. I was just thinking about you.”

  She walked by, the slight rose scent from her hair wafting by. “And here I am,” she smiled.

  “And here you are.” Uncertainty now filled him as they stood awkwardly in the small room. “Did you need something?”

  “No…not really. I just thought I’d make sure you have moved back in again. I was quite foolish to have asked you to leave.”

  Stepping closer, he replied, “You were hurt, upset…and rightfully so. Please sit with me.” He took her hand and led her to the sofa, watching as she curled up on one end, facing him.

  She looked down at the book on the coffee table and a smile brightened her face. “Charlotte’s Web? I love that book!”

  “Yeah, me too. It was one Zander read to us as kids. I always just thought of it as a children’s book. I mean, it is, but…”

  Nodding her understand, she asked, “Will you read to me? I’ve missed that.”

  Smiling, he picked it up again and began to read, relieved when she settled deep into the cushions, her eyes dancing. As the tale of Charlotte and Wilbur unfolded, he smiled.

  “The barn was very large. It was very old. It smelled of hay and it smelled of manure. It smelled of the perspiration of tired horses and the wonderful sweet breath of patient cows. It often had a sort of peaceful smell—as though nothing bad could happen ever again in the world.”

  He grinned, looking over at her. “You know, this is how I felt about Bellamy House when I first came here.”

  Pretending to be insulted, she placed her hand over her heart. “Are you saying you thought my home smelled like manure?”

  “No, no,” he laughed, happy to see her smile. “I just meant that it’s as though nothing bad could ever happen here.”

  Settling back, Rafe’s deep voice filled Eleanor as he continued to read.

  “You have been my friend. That in itself is a tremendous thing...By helping you, perhaps I was trying to lift up my life a trifle. Heaven knows anyone's life can stand a little of that.”