by C J Marie
Rafe glanced along the table, but shook his head. “I haven’t seen her all night. Looks like she’s supposed to be here, though. There’s an empty place next to Ms. Gardener.”
He was right. The seat meant for Dot was untouched, but neither Mr. nor Mrs. Gardener brought attention to the absence of their daughter. If her own mother wasn’t eyeing Olive with pristine focus, she would whip out her cell and text Dot right there.
After a few moments, Mr. Gardener clinked his spoon against the side of his glass, bringing the table to a rumbling quiet. Mr. Gardener was a plump man, with peppery hair and a stern smile tucked beneath a bushy mustache. He was kind enough, but seemed more business oriented than affectionate, especially toward Dot. One time, Olive heard him tell Dot to take her emotional female needs to her mother when she started crying at school. Turned out Dot had appendicitis. Dot insisted her father apologized later on, though Olive couldn’t be sure.
Clearing his throat, Mr. Gardener nodded toward Rafe and Olive. “Pleasure to have friends to celebrate such a wonderful event. We thank y’all for also supporting the new charitable clinic we’ve opened just outside of Honeyville. It never hurts to do a little good.”
The table murmured in praises, which seemed to be Mr. Gardener’s goal with such a speech, but he raised his glass again toward them. “To the future Mr. and Mrs. Whitney.”
The table recited the toast, some louder than others after a few too many drinks. Beau didn’t raise his glass, though her Aunt Prudy nudged his shoulder with a frown. Olive smiled, the pressure in her chest not because it was still technically a lie, but from Rafe’s tight hold on her hand beneath the tablecloth. She smiled at him before kissing him gently, earning a soft applause from a few dinner guests.
Midway through dessert, Olive slipped to the restroom. Her heart throbbed in her ears. All night, Olive had been cuddling with Rafe. Her mama hadn’t missed a lick, even Daddy lifted a few brows. She needed to tell them. Tonight. Fanning her face she slipped into the bathroom to cool her nerves before the courage disappeared entirely.
Olive was startled when sniffling and blubbering came out through one of the antique-looking bathroom stalls. There was even an oval mirror over a wooden vanity with a silver hand mirror and brush. Olive hoped no one used the brush.
“Pardon me,” Olive muttered, trying to slip out the door.
“Ollie?”
She wheeled around. “Dot? Is that you?” The far stall door squeaked open and Dot emerged, her face splotchy, black streaks of makeup carved into her cheeks. “Mercy, Dot. What’s happened?”
Dot rushed across the bathroom and flung her arms around Olive’s neck. She shuddered and gasped for air through the tears. “Oh, Ollie. How can I… even… function?” Dot’s voice was stuffed and clogged from hours of crying.
“Dottie, tell me what happened,” Olive cooed, leading her toward the vanity seat. Dot snagged a few paper towels, dabbing her eyes though it wouldn’t do any good. Her eyes were nearly swollen shut, and her voice sounded like a static radio station.
“This… this morning,” she hiccupped. “I… Sawyer called me. Said… he said he wasn’t coming back.”
Olive’s heart lunged toward her throat. “Why not, sweetie?” She brushed a hand along Dot’s arm, feeling certain where this story was going. Speaking to her parents’ would need to wait it would seem.
“He… he apparently,” she snarled with sudden ferocity. “Thinks we aren’t...” Dot met Olive’s eye. “He ended it with me, Ollie.”
Dot crumbled over her lap again, sobs bleeding in and out. “Oh, Dot,” Olive sighed, brushing her hair. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could say something to make you feel better. I know it hurts.”
“It’s killing me, Ollie,” Dot shrieked. “I feel my heart turning to shattered, broken, cutting pieces of glass. Mama said I need to stay put until I can compose myself. Well, looks like I’ll be here forever because how in the blazes am I supposed to compose myself? He told me he wanted to marry me! He loved me. He lied!” Dot sniffed loudly, blowing her nose in a paper towel before staring at the ceiling. “Am I so awful, Ollie?”
Olive shook her head, hugging Dot close. “No, Dot. You’re not awful at all. He’s a dog for not seeing how amazing you are. You’re smart, you’re funny, playful, exciting. You’re beautiful.” Dot scoffed and wiped her nose again. “I mean it, Dottie. You’re all those things and one brilliant businesswoman. I heard your daddy bragging out there about all you’ve done for the clinic already. You’re amazing, and if Sawyer can’t see that, he doesn’t deserve you.”
“You’re just saying all that to make me feel better.”
“It’s all true, but is it working and making you feel better?” Olive chuckled.
Dot smiled a watery grin. “A little.”
“Dot, come stay with me tonight. We’ll drink wine, eat way too many carbs, and then do it all again.”
“I don’t think Rafe will like that,” Dot muttered.
“Millie just got back, he needs to be with her a bit without me,” she said. “Come on, it will be fun.”
Dot smiled again, her tears ceasing for a moment. “I’d really like that, Ollie.” Dot squeezed Olive’s shoulders again. “Thank you.”
“Now, what would our mother’s say?”
Dot laughed. “Wipe those tears, no more blubbering. Straighten those shoulders.”
“If you lie with a dog, you’ll catch fleas,” Olive said in her best Bernadette impression.
Dot really laughed now and linked arms with Olive. Rafe was waiting outside the bathroom when they stepped out.
“Everyone is leaving,” he said, but stopped when he saw Dot’s eyes. “Oh, hey Dot. Everything okay?”
“No, men are the spawns of hell,” Dot grumbled.
Rafe lifted a brow and Olive chuckled. “Don’t take offense, but Dot is going to come stay with me tonight.” She slithered her arm around his waist, thankful most of the guests had turned their attention away from the young people and back to business or talk of the clinic.
He seemed a little disappointed, but Rafe was a smart man and wasn’t going to touch this issue with a ten-foot pole. Resting his hand on the small of Olive’s back, he nodded. “Come on, I’ll take you both home.”
Olive followed just behind Rafe through the restaurant, Dot behind her. Olive’s stomach was filled to the brim, she was tired from the late night the night before, but she still had the twisting in her insides thinking of curling up with Rafe, even if she’d need to wait until tomorrow. Then she felt guilty for such thoughts when she caught sight of Dot’s haggard face again.
She halted their escape, tugging on his hand. “Rafe, do you know her?”
Dot lifted her eyes, hugging her middle as Rafe followed Olive’s nod toward a young woman with short strawberry blonde hair tucked neatly behind her ears. She was donned in pearls, but her white cut-offs weren’t so stiff they couldn’t be worn for a day at the beach. She was sauntering toward them, her expression apprehensive, but bright. He shook his head and tried to continue out of the restaurant, but they both stopped when the woman called out to them.
“Excuse me, I couldn’t help overhearing your celebration over there. Did you say your last name was, Whitney?”
Rafe’s face paled, and Olive offered a reassuring squeeze to his hand. If this woman had ties to the Whitney family, it could get interesting. Dot certainly had taken an interest, and her tears nearly dried completely now.
Rafe shuffled his stance for a moment before shaking his head. “I don’t use that name, sometimes others do, that’s why you heard it tonight. Sorry if we disturbed you, but I much prefer Whitfield. Excuse us.”
The woman dared grabbed his arm, her brows furrowed, but she had a soft smile on her face. She wasn’t threatening, but Olive still had the urge to smack her hand away. If Olive had to guess she was close to their age, maybe a year or two older. “You don’t know Jed Whitney do you?”
Rafe’s politeness was over and his li
ps pulled into a tight line. Olive stepped between them and shook her head. “No, he doesn’t, nor do we care to. Now, excuse us.”
“Great day,” she breathed. “Wait, please. What’s your name?”
Rafe wheeled on the pushy little woman his eyes shadowed. “Miss, I don’t know Jed Whitney, and as my girl just said, we don’t care to know him.”
“My name is Jace,” she insisted without skipping a beat. Olive glared at the girl; this woman was blocking their retreat entirely. “Jace Whitney.” Now she had both Olive’s and Rafe’s attention. Jace grinned, kindly, not maliciously at all. In fact, Olive thought the woman might be welling tears in her pale eyes. “My daddy is James Whitney. You don’t… you don’t have a twin brother do you?”
Rafe glanced at Olive, his skin flushing.
“How do you know them?” Olive asked darkly.
Jace covered her mouth, letting out a hushed squeal. “My grandma talked about you both. I was never sure if I believed her that y’all existed. She always felt rotten about what happened. Tell me if I’m mistaken, please. If I’m not though, I’d dare guess we’re… first cousins, Mr. Whitfield.”
Chapter 16
Rafe stared unblinking at Jace. The petite woman seemed unsettled by his reaction, but what was he supposed to say?
“Perhaps we could go and talk. I’d like to get to know you,” Jace said after a long silence.
“Ollie, on second thought, maybe we should stick with Rafe,” Dot said with a wet smile. “Watching his family drama unfold is surprisingly distracting.”
Rafe could have laughed at Dot’s sincerity in the comment if he wasn’t still lost for words. Olive nudged Dot in the side and told her to hush. “Rafe,” she whispered, her touch anchoring him to reality and wiping away the haze. Slowly, he glanced at her, feeling at ease almost instantly. “What do you want to do?”
“I don’t mean to cause you any discomfort, but I couldn’t stay quiet,” Jace said softly.
“Are you close with him?” Rafe croaked.
Jace shook her head. “I hardly know my uncle. He and my daddy had a falling out years ago. Unfortunately, he’s had many falling outs with the family. There are pictures though… that’s how I found the courage to come over. Maybe I shouldn’t say, but you sort of—”
“Look like him,” Rafe said, running a hand across his forehead. “Yeah, I know.”
Jace glanced at the ground. “I apologize, I can see this is difficult for you, and rightly so. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Jace backed away toward the dining room. Rafe wanted her to leave in one breath, then in another he didn’t. Olive’s thumb brushed across his palm. She didn’t say anything, but Olive wouldn’t—she’d always respected his feelings on his dead-beat father. She’d let him act how he wanted on this subject. Releasing a pent breath he stepped forward. “Wait.” Jace stopped, her eyes hopeful. Raking a hand through his hair he spoke softer. “We can talk.”
Jace grinned, her cheeks rosy, and he noticed the way her hands wrung in front of her stomach. “Really? Great, let me go and tell my friends I’m leaving. I’ll be right back.”
Jace rushed back toward the dining room and Rafe leaned against the wall. Olive hugged his waist and tilted her head toward him. “You okay?’
He shook his head. “I always knew there were family members, but no one ever reached out to us. Ever. What am I supposed to say?”
His shoulders eased from clenching when Olive pressed a sweet kiss on his lips. “You say whatever you want. She seems genuine, Rafe. Like she wants to get to know you.”
“I want to be nosy, but I can leave, Rafe,” Dot said.
Rafe shook his head. “As weak as it might sound, I’d rather not do this alone.”
Dot seemed pleased, and Olive threaded her fingers around his whispering against his lips. “You know you don’t ever have to.”
Jace found her way back, her smile even wider. “Okay, where do you want to go?”
Rafe shuffled his feet. “Well, I need to be getting back to my place. My mom is sick, and we’ve been gone for a long time.”
Jace paled slightly, but she nodded. “Would she, uh, want me coming around?”
Olive chuckled. “Millie might tell you what she thinks of your uncle, but she’d never hold it against you.”
“It will be fine. If you’d like to come,” Rafe said with a small smile.
“Alright. I’ll follow you.” They all slipped into his truck and drove through the parking lot, until Jace pointed to a black Civic. “That’s me.”
He was surprised, imagining she’d be driving a ritzy sports car with all the upgrades. Rafe waited until she was in the car, before pulling out onto the road. Olive leaned against the window, her fingers still linked like an unbreaking chain with his, and Dot practically bounced in the backseat.
“I’ve never seen your place, Rafe. This is all sort of exciting. Sounds like your extended family feels about the same as you on your rotten daddy. Are you nervous? Don’t be, if you are. He’s shameful. Jace seems nice enough, though. Maybe your uncle is a decent sort too,” Dot rambled.
Rafe glanced at Olive. Normally he would feel ashamed to even be roped into the Whitney family, especially with an audience. He could almost agree with Dot; meeting a cousin was exciting in a way.
“The thing that bothers me the most,” Rafe whispered to Olive. He didn’t think Dot was even paying attention, that or she was giving him the space to speak with Olive without interference. “I’ve got cousins, what if I have...”
Olive smiled sadly when he didn’t go on. “More siblings?”
Rafe nodded. “I never asked about it for a reason. As much as I don’t want to know my dad, it would be hard for August and me to know we had a brother or sister.”
“Are you going to ask?”
Rafe paused. “I don’t want to know, but I think I’ll drive myself insane wondering if I don’t.”
Olive kissed his knuckles and pressed her cheek along the top of his hand. “I want you to say whatever you feel comfortable with, Rafe. You don’t have to ask anything about Jed. Get to know Jace if that helps.”
“You’ll stay, right?”
Olive nodded. “Always.”
“You can stay too, Dot,” he added with a chuckle. “We just stocked up on wine and Mama insisted on chocolate being in the house, so there’s that.”
Dot laughed. “You won’t even know I’m there. I’ll just get tipsy and gain ten pounds out in the yard while you dig into childhood wounds.”
Rafe scoffed pulling down the road toward his house. “And I thought this dinner was going to be boring.”
Olive chuckled. “Life is never boring with you, Rafe.”
The house still had a few lights on. Rafe almost wished his mom had gone to bed. Perhaps this would be good for her as well.
Jace pulled right behind him in the driveway. She cautiously slipped from the driver’s seat; a purse slung over one shoulder. A chuckle escaped her throat when she trudged next to them. “I’m a little nervous.” Jace glanced at Olive and held out her hand. “Sorry, we never introduced ourselves.”
Olive took her hand and smiled. “Olive Cutler. Good to meet you.”
“You as well. When are y’all getting married?”
Dot snorted. “That’s a long story, girl.”
Jace furrowed a brow, but didn’t press. Rafe took a deep breath and ushered the three women through the front door first. Inside, he could hear the soft mumbled voices on the TV and a laughing studio audience. Dropping his keys on the counter, he flipped on the light in the kitchen.
“You home already?” his mother’s voice called out from the living room.
Rafe took a deep breath and slipped into the room. “We’re home.”
“My, you’ve got a crowd with you,” Milled said, shutting off the TV. “Oh, I recognize you, Miss Gardener.”
“Hi, Ms. Whitfield,” Dot chirped. “So glad to see you on the mend. If you’ll excuse me, Rafe poin
t me in the direction of my sorrow-filled needs.”
He laughed and nodded his head back toward the kitchen. “Help yourself.”
Dot squeezed Olive’s shoulder before slipping out of the room. Olive met his eye before finding a place next to Millie on the couch. “What’s with all the somber faces?” Millie asked. “Who’s this lovely lady?”
Rafe shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned against the wall. “Mama, this is Jace.”
Jace stalked across the room and shook Millie’s hand with a smile. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
“You too, Jace,” Millie said pleasantly, with a side peek at Olive. “Is something going on I should know about? Y’all are acting strange.”
Clearing his throat, Rafe nodded at Jace. “Mama, Jace is… a Whitney.”
Millie’s smile faded when she locked eyes with Jace again. Narrowing her gaze, not angrily, more as though Millie were trying to remember. “James’s girl?”
Jace nodded and sat on the other side. “I’m not here to cause anyone to get upset, but I heard them call Rafe by the last name Whitney—and I practically cornered them.”
“And why were you being called Whitney?” Millie asked.
Rafe shifted uncomfortably, and it seemed Olive was as uneasy as him. “A slip of the tongue.”
“He corrected me, quickly,” Jace insisted, seeming to read the reluctance associated with her family name. “I hope y’all don’t mind, I just want to… get to know you.”
The room settled into a heavy quiet, until Millie leaned forward and patted Jace’s knee. “And why shouldn’t we know you? You can’t help who you’re related to.”
Jace chuckled and nodded. “First, I think I should tell you, my mama and daddy don’t approve of Uncle Jed and how he treated y’all. Neither did grandma.”
Millie nodded sadly. “Yes, Marjorie made certain the boys were provided for, even if Jed tried to change her wishes after she died.”
It was surreal and uncomfortable talking about a grandmother he never knew. She might have provided for them financially, but why hadn’t anyone reached out and tried to know August and Rafe? Why was it so repulsive to have grandsons born of the maid? He’d never understand it, but it was the root of his worries regarding Olive.