by Lori Wilde
You have to. For Kyle.
“Guillermo says he understands that what you’re experiencing right now is very confusing,” Rafferty translated. “But he wants to reassure you that this all will be old hat in no time.”
Lissette smiled. Nodded. “Thank him for me.”
Rafferty conveyed her message to Guillermo, and then to Lissette, he said, “What questions would you like to ask?”
Gosh, there were so many. She really didn’t know where to start. She wasn’t even sure what questions to ask. She felt clueless, in the dark, a total mushroom.
Kyle sat in her lap, mesmerized by the computer, his gaze trained on Guillermo, watching every move he made.
In order for them both to see the computer screen, she and Rafferty had to sit close together, thighs and shoulders touching. If she hadn’t been so focused on the Skype session, she would have come completely unraveled by the contact.
She tried not to be distracted by his body heat or just how firm his muscular legs were. He handled horses every day and it clearly kept him in tip-top shape. She gulped, disconcerted, and didn’t look over at him.
“Lissy?” Rafferty said.
It felt too intimate. His use of her nickname.
“Uh-huh?” She croaked.
“What would you like to ask Guillermo?”
“Mmm,” she said, determined to ignore the way her body hummed and tingled everywhere she was pressed against Rafferty. “What would be his number one piece of advice for me at this shocked, stunned, strung-out stage?”
He and Guillermo exchanged a conversation in sign language and then Rafferty translated for her. “It’s not the end of the world. All the dreams you initially had for your son are still achievable, regardless of his hearing loss.”
Learning this was an antidote to her despair. Guillermo was her angel of hope. She could see a glimmer of light, small and far away, but it was there.
“You must find the gift in having a child with hearing loss,” Rafferty continued to interpret. “In searching for those gifts, your bond with your son will grown stronger every day and soon you will come to appreciate him for exactly who he is.”
Lissette clasped both hands to her heart. “Tell him thank you for sharing his wisdom.”
Kyle reached out to touch the computer screen. Guillermo waved at him. Her son laughed so loud he startled himself and looked back to see if Lissette had noticed.
Guillermo signed something to Kyle.
“What did he say?” Lissette asked Rafferty.
“He told him it’s good to laugh.”
“It is.” She smiled at Guillermo.
The ranch foreman signed for a long time. He looked quite serious during the process. Kyle wriggled in her lap. Exasperated, she set him on his feet.
Rafferty signed back.
“What did he say?” Lissette asked.
“He recommends that you teach Kyle sign language over lipreading because he’s so young and profoundly deaf. He believes that children who spend so much time learning to speak and lip-read are delayed in their academic development. Sign language is a deaf child’s native tongue. Forcing a child to lip-read and speak is tantamount to stripping him of his identity, his community, and his culture.”
Now, she understood the somber expression on Guillermo’s face. Her decision on how to educate her son would impact Kyle for the rest of his life. It was not something to be taken lightly.
“I’ll give his arguments serious consideration,” she said.
Rafferty relayed what she said.
Guillermo shook his head. Signed something emphatically.
“I get the feeling he’s unhappy with me,” she mumbled.
“Not unhappy,” Rafferty corrected. “Just concerned that since you are hearing, you’re vulnerable to letting other hearing people sway you to their way of thinking.”
“Thank Guillermo for his concern. I’ll keep his advice in mind.”
Rafferty translated. Guillermo’s face softened and he nodded. They signed some more.
“What was that?” Lissette asked.
“Just ranch business,” he said, but he looked a bit embarrassed, as if Guillermo had communicated something else that Rafferty was reluctant to share with her.
She narrowed her eyes and steely determination took hold of her. She was going to learn sign language, by God. She didn’t like going through an interpreter, even one as helpful as the cowboy beside her.
An insistent tugging at her pants leg shifted her attention to her son. Kyle stood grinning up at her, his face, hair, and clothes covered in barbecue sauce. “Oh my goodness, look what you’ve been up to.”
At that moment her telephone rang.
She jumped away from him, her gaze drifting to the cordless phone on the end table and the digital readout of the caller ID. She sighed. “It’s my parents.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
The phone rang again.
“No.” She blew out her breath. “It’s just that I haven’t told them about Kyle yet.”
“Ah,” Rafferty said, and held out his arms. “Hand me the boy. I’ll wash his face and hands.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“You need to have this talk with your folks. It might take a while and the young one is sticky. Give.” Rafferty wriggled his fingers.
The phone trilled again.
Rafferty kept his arms extended.
In such a short time, she was already growing accustomed to his help. He was a guy you could count on. This wasn’t good. It wasn’t smart. Counting on him. She’d counted on people too much. It was time she counted on herself.
“I’ve got him,” she said.
“Don’t be stubborn.”
Kyle grunted and unwittingly kicked her in the ribs as he leaned toward Rafferty’s open arms.
The phone switched to voice mail. “Lissy, it’s Mom. If you’re home, please pick up. I just got the most distressing call from Claudia.”
Rafferty arched an eyebrow, inclined his head in the direction of the phone, and took Kyle from her arms. “Talk to your mother,” he said firmly, the total alpha male, fully in control.
With that, he left the room, her son tucked in the crook of his arm.
Leaving Lissette fuming, fretful, and flummoxed.
Just who in the hell did this audacious cowboy think he was?
Chapter Eleven
Rafferty sat Kyle down on the bathroom floor. He plugged the sink, turned on the faucet. He’d performed this same activity many times, taking care of his younger sister and brother. An old habit coming back to him like a good friend he hadn’t seen in years.
He was trying not to think about Guillermo’s parting message. Be careful, boss. You know how you get with those helpless damsels.
Mind your own business, Rafferty had signed back.
Lissette might be going through a rough patch, but she wasn’t helpless. Any woman who could take such good care of a child all on her own—and let’s face it, Jake hadn’t been much help—had to be damn resilient.
That resilience was what attracted Rafferty. She wasn’t like any other woman he’d ever known. She was tough, even if she didn’t see herself that way. For instance, she hadn’t automatically embraced Guillermo’s strong opinion for sign language. Maybe that’s why Guillermo had warned him. He saw Lissette’s failure to immediately agree with him as a weakness, whereas in Rafferty’s book, it took a lot of courage to stop and weigh both sides of an issue instead of plunging headlong into a knee-jerk response.
The way he often did. A knee-jerk response was how he’d ended up here in the first place. If truth be told he was the one not operating from a position of power. He’d let his heart rule his head when he decided to stay in Jubilee and train her horse. He was starting to regret his decision because he was getting too involved with her too quickly. Feeling things he should not be feeling.
Suddenly aware of the heat from the toddler’s gaze, he glanced over. Kyle watched h
im, big eyes solemn. The kid had his mom’s eyes. Rafferty stared back, unnerved by his intent assessment.
“Bet you’re wondering what I’m doing here, huh?” He patted the stepstool, indicating Kyle should step up to the sink. “Don’t think I haven’t been asking myself the same question. The plan was to give your mama the money and then get the hell out of Jubilee.”
Kyle pointed a chubby finger at him.
“Yeah, best-laid plans. I didn’t count on your mama being in such trouble. Couldn’t very well just turn my back on her, now could I?” Rafferty guided him up onto the stool.
A dollop of barbecue sauce was in Kyle’s hair.
Chuckling, Rafferty dipped a washcloth into the water and scrubbed the boy’s round little head. “It’s gonna be okay,” he said. “I promise. Your mama’s strong. She’s got your best interest at heart.”
Unlike my mother.
That was unfair. Amelia had done the best she could. She couldn’t help it that she had mental issues, but Kyle was lucky to have a grounded, stable mother like Lissette. One who would move heaven and earth to make sure his needs were met before her own.
Kyle held out both arms.
Rafferty gulped. He was getting too close, to this boy and his mother.
“You want me to pick you up?”
Kyle nodded as if he’d understood exactly what Rafferty had said.
“Look kid, I like you and everything, but I won’t be around for long so it’s not a good idea to get too attached to me.”
Kyle didn’t move. Just stood with arms outstretched.
“I’m seriously screwed here, aren’t I?” Rafferty mumbled, and scooped the boy up in his arms. He was leaning down over the sink, guiding Kyle’s hands into the water when Lissette marched in.
Rafferty cast her a sideways glance. A frown pulled her lips tight. The color was high on her cheeks. She lowered the toilet lid, sat down and crossed her arms over her chest. She was trembling all over.
Adrenaline kicked in. His pulse quickened. Fight-or-flight response. Part of him wanted to run, escape the bathroom’s intimate confines. Another part of him wanted to double up his fists and do battle with whoever or whatever had upset her.
“I am so furious,” she announced.
Rafferty stayed quiet, not sure how to respond. He busied himself soaping Kyle’s hands with bar soap that smelled like green apples.
“Claudia called my parents and told them about Kyle. Can you believe that?”
“Maybe she didn’t know you hadn’t told them.”
“She knew it the minute my mother answered the phone in a bright chirpy voice.”
“That’s an assumption on your part. Some people get cheery when they’re depressed.”
“What people?”
“I dunno,” he finished lamely. “Some people, somewhere in the world.”
“But not my people. Not in my world. Something bad happens, you aren’t chirpy.”
“Good point.”
“I’m not just mad at Claudia either.” Her left knee jerked up and down in a frantic rhythm, burning off nervous energy. “I’m pissed at my parents even more.”
“Family can be irritating without meaning to be.”
Lissette narrowed her eyes. “You’re patronizing me. Stop it. Jake used to patronize me all the time. Pat the little lady on the head. Calm her down. Well, I don’t need calming down. I have a legitimate reason to be upset.”
“Not patronizing. Just playing devil’s advocate.”
“Well, stop that too. I want you on my side. Are you on my side?”
“I’m on your side.”
“No matter what?”
“No matter what,” he promised.
“Good. Fine.” She stood up, paced two steps, ran into the wall, turned and plunked back down on the closed toilet seat again. “On a Sunday, my parents pulled strings.”
“What kind of strings?”
“They got Kyle an appointment with some high-powered audiologist in Dallas for Monday morning.”
“Your parents are that powerful?”
She waved a hand. “They know a lot of people.”
“Maybe it’s a good thing,” he suggested. “Second opinion. Maybe you should keep the appointment.”
“That’s not the point. Of course I’m going to keep the appointment. I want the best for my son. The thing is that they interfered. They assumed I couldn’t handle this on my own. They stepped in without my permission. They took over.”
“They were just being concerned parents.”
“My side. You’re supposed to be on it, remember?”
“Right. How could they have been so awful?”
“Now you’re making fun of me.”
“Gentle teasing.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“It’s not.” He nodded. “But you’re going through a lot of turmoil right now. You’re extra sensitive. Things seem worse than they really are.”
She sighed heavily, gazed at her son with a woebegone expression. Rafferty ached to make it all go away, ease her suffering. “Do you want me to go with you to the appointment?”
“No,” she said caustically. “I’m depending on you too much as it is. It’s time I found my own way.”
“There’s nothing wrong with accepting help.”
“There is if it keeps you from growing to your full potential.”
“You feel stunted?”
She opened her mouth, her eyes filled with things she wanted to say, but she snapped her mouth shut after finally saying, “Does it really matter what I feel?”
Rafferty wasn’t keen on discussing feelings either, so he didn’t push her, instead gently scrubbed Kyle’s sticky face with a washcloth. “You matter a whole lot to this little guy. And,” he mumbled, “you matter to me.”
She made a muffled sound, half pleasure, half alarm.
He turned to look at her over his shoulder and their gazes met for a long, electrified moment.
“Don’t,” she whispered.
“Don’t what?”
“Say anything.”
The bathroom was suddenly suffocatingly hot, the quarters too tight. He put Kyle down on the stool and bent over to dry the boy’s hands. He cast a sideways glance at Lissette. A dewdrop of perspiration beaded on the little fingerprint-shaped canal between her nose and her upper lip.
Rafferty realized, with some satisfaction, that whatever this was he was experiencing, it was not one-sided. It pleased him to learn he wasn’t the only one feeling strung out, strung up, strung along by attraction. He read it in her body language. Her hidden emotions revealed in her tense muscles, wavering smile, and shallow, rapid respirations.
Hell, his body was probably just as big a tattletale. His feelings sticking out like sharp points on a barbwire fence, giving off edgy clues to his state of mind, marking his weak spots, telegraphing his thoughts. He liked her. He wanted her. He was a big fool because of it too.
She wore a pair of loose-fitting jeans—he had the feeling she’d lost weight in the aftermath of Jake’s death—and a blue flannel shirt with the charm of white lace edging the collar and the hem. Fluffy pink socks and the small silver earrings in the shape of Texas that decorated her delicate lobes accentuated her down-home country appeal.
Lissette looked both compellingly innocent and devastatingly sexy. The gentle goddess Persephone who saw only the best in life until Hades kidnapped her as his bride and the harsh reality awakened her from her stupor. He sensed that she struggled between her naturally optimistic outlook and the dark situation she found herself in. An internal conflict with the way she wanted things to be and the way they really were.
Hell, Jones, you just cast Jake in the role of Hades.
Jake. The war hero. Jake, the big brother who’d once saved his skin. He felt at once disloyal to Jake and infuriated with him for the way he’d treated Lissy. If she were his . . .
But she’s not yours. She can never be yours, so squelch that thought right now.
“I’m not here to get in your way, Lissy,” he said, straightening. “Or cause you trouble. All I want to do is help. You do know that, right?”
She nodded and for a long moment neither of them moved, as if a restrictive band had cinched around them, anchoring them to the spot.
Then Kyle reached out for him, his chubby little hands went around Rafferty’s neck and he clung tight.
“Da.” The boy rested his forehead at Rafferty’s temple and patted his nose. “Da.”
Rafferty melted.
Ah, hell. This was not good. Not good at all.
For the next week, Rafferty concentrated on training Slate. He loved his work and it was a good distraction. Helping him keep his mind off his feelings for Lissette. It also helped that Lissette and Kyle stayed in Dallas with her parents for a few days as she took her son to see a variety of specialists.
She came home on Friday, looking exhausted. He’d heard her drive into the garage and he’d come down the apartment steps to see if she needed anything. She offered him a sweet smile. He was a sucker for that smile.
Lord, he thought. I’ve missed her.
“How’d it go?” he asked.
“Exhausting. And the conclusions were all the same. He’s going deaf and there’s nothing that can be done. But in a way, I’m glad that’s settled and over with. Now for the new tug-of-war. How best to educate him. Guillermo recommends teaching him sign language, and he is the only deaf person weighing in. While everyone else, my parents, Claudia, even the educators think lipreading and teaching him to speak are the way to go. The thing is I can’t figure out why he can’t do both, but when I say that, everyone seems to look at me like I’m crazy. They’re pressuring me to pick. I’ve been told the faster I make a decision, the better off Kyle is going to be, but I hate making decisions under pressure. Especially one as important as this.”
“Take your time,” he encouraged.
“You’re the only one who hasn’t weighed in, the only one not pressuring me. Thank you,” she said, “for giving me some breathing room.”
“You’ll come to the right decision in your own time.”
“In the meanwhile, I’d like it if you continue teaching him both sign language and lipreading.”