Internal Affairs (12 page)

Lisa and Rafe exchanged a brief glance, an embarrassed smile, then Rafe gestured to Bea and Chloe and introduced them.

Natalie nodded to Bea, then stooped toward Chloe, reaching a hand out to tousle her hair. “What a beautiful little...”

She paused, a question forming in her eyes.

She glanced up at Lisa, then Rafe, then at Lisa again, who quickly averted her gaze. Rafe didn’t seem to notice the look, but in that moment, Lisa knew that the old woman had seen something familiar in Chloe. Probably the same thing Lisa saw every time she looked at her daughter’s face.

Rafael Franco’s eyes.

“Lovely child,” the old woman said. “Let’s see if we can find you some cookies.”

Chloe’s face lit up. “Really?”

“As long as your mama approves.”

Lisa smiled. “Of course. Thank you so much for having us, Mrs. Franco.”

“Call me Nonna,” she said, then lightly flicked a finger under Chloe’s chin, provoking a giggle. “You, too.”

“Okay.”

Then she straightened and turned to Rafe. “Rafael, don’t just stand there looking handsome. Get their things and carry them to their rooms upstairs. I’ll start the tea.”

* * *

T
HE INTERIOR
of the house was a museum. A perfectly maintained replica of 1920s St. Louis, with antique furniture, polished wood floors and a gleaming wooden staircase that led to the bedrooms.

Lisa had forgotten that feeling she’d had so long ago, when she had first stepped foot inside the house. It seemed to hold the same welcoming warmth as Grandma Natalie’s smile. A house that said,
Come in, come in. Make yourself comfortable.

“I remember the first moment I saw you,” Nonna said to her as she poured tea into delicate porcelain cups.

They were seated in the large but intimate living room, the air so still that every clink of the porcelain seemed magnified.

“I was in the kitchen,” she continued, “with the window overlooking the drive, and Rafael drove up in that infernal machine of his, and a moment later you stepped out.” She smiled. “I thought, oh, my, what has that grandson of mine gone and done?”

Rafe, who was slumped wearily in a worn leather chair, cracked open his eyes and said, “What’s that supposed to mean, Nonna?”

“That as handsome and charming as you are, young man, I couldn’t quite believe you had managed to steal such a beautiful treasure. Especially after some of the ungodly young women you dated in high school.”

Bea, who looked a little uncomfortable being served, let out a snort. “I like this woman.”

Nonna smiled at her. “I’ll bet you’ll like my lasagna even better. Just you wait and see.”

“Come on, Nonna,” Rafe said. “Cut me a break.”

The old woman ignored him and turned again to Lisa. “And when I met you, I was quite delighted that he’d finally managed to find someone who was not only beautiful, but also had brains, too. Rafael’s a wonderful boy, but he doesn’t always think straight. He needs to be grounded in reality sometimes and you seemed like just the woman to do it.”

Rafe sat up now, blinking at her. “How long are you planning to go on like this?”

“You just go to sleep, son. Let the ladies talk.”

“I feel like I’m under a microscope.”

Nonna waggled a hand at him. “Just be happy anyone’s talking about you at all. You could do worse.”

Rafe gave her a good-natured scowl, then settled back in his seat and closed his eyes. “I couldn’t stop you if I wanted to, so carry on.”

“Boys and their grandmothers,” Bea murmured with a grin.

Nonna finished pouring her own cup of tea, stirred in some sugar, then settled onto the sofa, again addressing Lisa.

“Where was I?” she asked.

“Talking about how Rafe needs grounding,” Lisa said, more concerned about where the old woman was
going
with all this. During the entire monologue she had kept glancing at Chloe, who was once again in deep communion with her crayons.

“Ah, yes,” Nonna said. “So you’ll understand why I was surprised and disappointed when the two of you broke it off. I had gotten the impression that Rafe was quite enamored of you, and you of him.”

Rafe opened his eyes again. “Okay, Nonna, now you’re really pushing it. Time to change the subject.”

She glanced at Chloe again. “A grandmother can’t be concerned about the choices her grandson makes? Especially when he may have certain responsibilities...”

Rafe frowned. “What the heck are you talking about?”

Lisa knew exactly what the old woman’s concern was and she immediately moved to allay it. “The breakup was a mutual decision, Nonna. And it didn’t come easily.” She smiled. “I’m just happy we’ve had this chance to reconnect, even if it’s under unfortunate circumstances.”

Grandma Natalie looked at her. “Then I take it he doesn’t...”

She stopped, letting the unspoken question hang in the air, and Lisa felt a sharp, painful stab of guilt.

“Doesn’t what?” Rafe asked.

Lisa looked directly at the old woman, mentally imploring her not to go any further. She didn’t want Rafe to find out like this.

“Nonna?”

The message seemed to get through, as Nonna relaxed. “Never you mind, son, you’re half asleep. You’d better take that nap before dinner. The stomach won’t wait.”

Rafe studied her curiously for a moment, glanced at Lisa, then threw his hands up in an exasperated gesture that implied that women were a mystery to him.

Then he closed his eyes again.

Chapter Sixteen

Dinner crept up on them faster than anyone had expected. Chloe unpacked the toys she brought in the living room as Lisa and Bea helped Grandma Natalie in the kitchen and a still-groggy Rafe set the dining room table.

Lisa remembered what a wonderful cook Grandma Natalie was. One Sunday every month, the entire Franco clan gathered here at the house to break bread and catch up with one another. Grandma Natalie would prepare a feast and the wine flowed as if it were coming from a fountain in the floor.

Lisa had been part of one of those Sundays. Had met Rafe’s brother, Vincent, and his aunts and uncles and cousins, all of whom seemed to have some connection to firefighting or law enforcement. Sheriff’s deputies, firefighters, beat cops, detectives, arson investigators. The Franco family was permeated by the culture and seemed to revel in it.

On the drive in, back then, Rafe had warned Lisa that she was about to be surrounded by some of the toughest cops she had ever encountered—not that she had encountered many—and that she shouldn’t let them intimidate her. That they were loyal to the badge, but they were also good people. Compassionate people.

“My family,” he had told her, “lives and breathes by our own code.”

“Code?”

“It’s based on what’s informally called Code Blue, the police code of conduct.”

“Sounds a little ominous to me,” she had said.

Rafe shook his head. “Just the opposite. Since childhood, I’ve always been taught by example to respect others, show empathy and humanity, do no harm unless it’s justified, protect those who can’t protect themselves, trust and help one another when needed...and...”

“And what?”

“Avoid bringing shame on the family. I know it all sounds a little goody-goody, but it works for us.”

At the time, Lisa had thought this code painted a vivid portrait of the Rafe she knew. He had always been a man—a boy then, really—of integrity, who seemed very sure about who he was and what he believed in. Cop confidence was part of his DNA, but never in that annoying, holier-than-thou way demonstrated by so many of the campus police officers.

Rafe was the picture of solid, but gentle, self-assurance. A picture Lisa had found quite attractive.

Still did.

Not that Rafe didn’t have his doubts at times. He had often told her about his reluctance to follow in his siblings’ footsteps and join the force. But that had come more from a fear of disappointing them than anything else. He was afraid he wouldn’t live up to the Franco family name.

He was especially concerned about living up to the example set by his sister, Kate—whom Lisa hadn’t met that Sunday. She was apparently one of the shining stars of the Franco family and Rafe said he often felt inadequate around her.

But now it looked as if he had finally conquered that fear and had grown and matured since making his decision to join the department. And helping her with Oliver proved that he still lived by the credo the Francos so cherished.

It was the last part of it, however, that bothered her.

Avoid bringing shame on the family.

These were modern times, sure, but the Franco clan struck her as a bit old-fashioned. So would the news that one of their favorite sons had fathered a child out of wedlock be greeted as a source of shame, or of celebration?

It was probably a pointless worry, but such things weighed on Lisa’s mind. Especially when the matriarch of that family was busy making pasta primavera right next to her, and knew darn well that the little girl now helping Rafe set the table was her great-granddaughter.

Lisa ached inside, knowing she needed to tell Rafe the truth, but still unable to think of a way—or a time—to do it.

But it had to be done.

No matter what the consequences.

* * *

D
INNER WAS SUBLIME
. Lisa couldn’t remember the last time she’d had food so delicious.

Grandma Natalie was an amazing cook.

They ate for what seemed like hours, sharing a bottle of wine, Rafe forgoing a glass because he had to work a shift tonight. Somewhere in the middle of it all, Chloe began to yawn and Lisa decided it was time to put her to bed.

“Let’s get you upstairs, hon. You’ve got to wash up and change into your jammies.”

“Can Mr. Rafe take me?”

This provoked a smile. “I don’t see why not,” Rafe said. “But none of this mister, stuff. Just call me Rafe.”

Or Daddy,
Lisa almost blurted out, but caught herself just in time. And she half expected Grandma Natalie to say it instead.

Getting to her feet, Lisa said, “We’ll both do it, hon. Make it a party.”

“A party!” Chloe squealed. “Make it party!”

“How about a teeth-brushing contest?” Rafe asked.

“Yea!” Chloe squealed.

Laughing, Rafe got to his feet, then went around the table and scooped Chloe into his arms. “I’ll bet I can get mine cleaner than yours.”

“Uh-uh,” Chloe said.

“We’ll see about that,” Rafe chuckled, then carried her out of the dining room toward the stairs.

Laughing now, Lisa got to her feet and followed, but before she reached the doorway, Grandma Natalie called out to her.

Lisa turned. “Yes?”

“You may not think this is any of my business, child, but does my grandson know who he’s carrying upstairs?”

Lisa’s laugh died and she said, “He will soon, Nonna. I promise. Just as soon as I figure out a way to tell him.”

Beatrice frowned. “Tell him what? Am I missing something?”

Grandma Natalie patiently patted Bea’s hand and returned her attention to Lisa. “Just open your mouth and say the words, child. That’s all it takes.”

Knowing the old woman was right, Lisa nodded solemnly then headed toward the stairs.

Chapter Seventeen

“I made something for you,” Chloe said.

Rafe smiled. “Oh? What is it?”

He was crouched over the bed in what had once been his mother’s bedroom, a small space located near the back of the house. The window overlooked the backyard where Mom’s old swing set still stood, victim to a bit of rot and rust, but gleaming in the moonlight, an old, pleasant memory.

Rafe had spent quite a bit of time on those swings himself.

He pulled the blankets up toward Chloe’s chin as she said, “It’s in my backpack.”

Rafe glanced at Lisa, who stood leaning in the doorway, watching them. There was a look in her eyes that puzzled him. A vague sadness, he thought. Something bothering her.

Undoubtedly thoughts of Sloan. It had to be hard raising a man’s child when that very same man was a threat to you. She undoubtedly saw part of Sloan every time she looked at Chloe’s face.

Rafe didn’t see it, however. He couldn’t bring himself to equate this precious child with Oliver Sloan. She was too innocent, too...beautiful.

Her mother’s beauty, he supposed.

It certainly wasn’t Sloan’s.

“Are you gonna look at it?” Chloe asked.

Rafe snapped out of his thoughts and reached for the backpack hanging over the bedpost—a lime-green frog with more zippered pockets than anyone could ever need, especially a child.

“In here?”

“Uh-huh.”

Rafe unzipped the main pocket and reached inside, pulling out a sheet of paper that had been torn from a coloring book. It was another kitty cat. This one crudely colored pink.

“Do you like it?” Chloe asked.

“I love it,” he said. “But you already gave me a blue one.” Which, he realized, was still folded in the pocket of his uniform jacket in the trunk of his car.

“You said you didn’t want him to get lonely, so I made him a friend.”

For reasons he couldn’t quite understand, Rafe felt a sudden warmth sluice through him. This was, quite possibly, one of the most heartfelt things anyone had ever done for him.

He again felt that unexplained connection to this little girl, and his chest filled with a yearning that came very close to bringing on tears.

He held back. Smiled. Ran a hand along Chloe’s forehead. “Thank you, hon. This is the best present anyone ever gave me.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely,” Rafe said. Then he heard a quiet sob behind him and swiveled his head to find Lisa turning quickly away from the doorway, heading into the hall.

“Leese?”

She didn’t respond and he felt compelled to go after her, but didn’t want to leave Chloe in a lurch. Instead, he turned back to the girl, smoothed her forehead again, and said, “You’d better get to sleep now, cupcake.”

Chloe smiled. “I like cupcakes.”

“So do I,” Rafe said. “So do I.”

* * *

H
E FOUND
L
ISA
on the front porch, sitting on the swinging bench that his grandfather had built. The old man had been very proud of that accomplishment. He was a gruff old patrol cop who hated retirement and always had to be doing something with his hands. His death two years ago had been a deep blow to everyone in the family.