Redeeming Rafe (27 page)

Desperate for something productive to do, Abby had called Dr. Allsopp, and he’d been thrilled to hear from her, thrilled to have lunch with her and discuss the project. Of course he was thrilled. He had a passion for Shakespeare.

But passion or not, she was proficient. She didn’t have to be excited to be effective. She turned on the computer and brought up her notes.

Why did it have to be
Romeo and Juliet?
At the time, she’d wanted to prove that she could bring something fresh to the most widely read of Shakespeare’s plays. But if she’d cared little about that then, she didn’t care at all now.

She was fading, becoming more transparent every day. For now, she still cared about the memory of huge blue eyes and warm arms around her in the night. How long before that was gone? How long before she cared for nothing except Phillip? Would she become a woman so wrapped up in her child that it was a detriment to his development?

Abby had talked to Emory once and Christian a couple of times and learned that Rafe had returned to Beauford Bend. Emory hadn’t said much about it. Christian had said plenty, but didn’t really know anything except that the Beauford brothers were moving forward on the plans for the stock contracting business.

At first, Abby had been hopeful that he would call, but he hadn’t. Either he was disgusted with her for going back to Boston, or he had decided he didn’t want her after all and pretending to go back to bull riding was the best way to get rid of her.

But really, what would she have done if he had called and asked her to come back? Run back, all the while terrified that he’d go back on the circuit? Learn to live with whatever he decided?

It was just as well that chapter was over. They were as star-crossed as the subjects of her non-passion.

The doorbell rang. Susan was shopping, and Trip was at the office, but there were plenty of staff around who could get it. Still, Abby got up and moved toward the foyer. It gave her an excuse to get away from the Doomed Duo, their screwed up families, and the little nurse, too.

She jerked the door open without looking out first—and all the air was sucked out of the universe.

“You’ve cut your hair.” It was the first thing that came to her mind.

“Yeah.” He ran his hand over his newly cropped, thick, soft locks. “Had a shower, too.”

Indeed, he had. In his navy blazer, French blue shirt, and striped tie, with a leather messenger bag on his shoulder, he looked like he’d walked straight off the Brooks Brothers runway. All that blue did things to those eyes … those eyes that were widening at her right now, sending her a question.

But she didn’t know the question, so she didn’t try to answer. She couldn’t find her thoughts, so she just stood there looking at those eyes, enjoying them while she could.

Finally, he gave voice to the question. “Is there a chance that you’ll let me come inside?”

“Oh. Yes.” She looked out in case there was a bull outside. No.

She led him back to the library.

He looked around. “Pretty fancy.”

With its worn leather furniture, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and massive desk, it was Abby’s favorite room in the house.

“You’re looking pretty fancy yourself. I’ve never seen you dressed like that.”

Rafe flashed her a smile. “It’s my Halloween costume. I’m a salesman about to make a presentation.”

There was something different in his manner, something light, teasing, and perhaps a little cocky. But the sweetness was still there in those eyes.

“What kind of presentation?” For now, she’d go with it. She shouldn’t let herself hope that he’d come for her, but why else would he be here? But even if that were so, it didn’t mean they could mend things.

“A presentation that will get me what I want. That’s what all presentations are about.”

Yes, definitely cocky—though not as cocky as Gabe. “Would you like to have a seat to make this pitch?”

“After you.” He motioned to the leather sofa.

There was something about this new demeanor that put her at ease, though she reminded herself that she needed to be wary. Despite wanting to be near him, she took a seat as close to the sofa arm as she could get.

He sat down right next to her. “You don’t mind, do you? I need for you to be able to see my PowerPoint presentation.”

Her removed his laptop from the bag and set it on his knees. “It’s not fancy.” He smiled and his dimple deepened. “I made it myself.”

The first screen depicted five stick figures, not unlike the decals in the back of SUV windows, illustrating a man, woman, two girls, and a boy. The title read “Our Life.”

She felt weightless with fear, anticipation, and uncertainty.

“How do you like it so far?” Rafe asked.

“I think you are showing promise as a PowerPoint creator.”

He nodded. “That’s fair. Doesn’t give a man much reassurance, but that’s fair, too.”

The next screen was a layout of the Beauford Bend property. “It’s not to scale,” Rafe said. “I haven’t progressed that far, but I think I did pretty well with the labeling. I used Garamond font. I thought it looked friendly.”

Abby had to lean forward to read the labels he was so proud of. The smell of him seeped into her and made her want to slam the computer to the floor and crawl into his lap.

“Note the yellow buildings. They haven’t been built yet.”

Far away from everything else on the south part of the property were depictions of barns, pens, stables, and other assorted buildings.

“So you’re really going to do it?”

Rafe nodded. “I’m really going to do it.” He pointed to another yellow square, up nearer the main house, situated between the carriage house and the repurposed gristmill where Gwen and Dirk lived. “What do you think of the location of this?”

Abby looked closer. “It’s not labeled. What is it?”

“A house. I don’t really know what style yet, but I think a lot of wood, fireplaces, and big rooms—a place where toddlers can grow into children and children can grow into teenagers. It should be big enough for them to bring their friends, college roommates, and, later, their spouses and children. It’s a full circle kind of house.”

At his words, Abby’s heart called out. Should she talk it down or hand it to him? Because it was certainly clear by now that he had come for it.

“It sounds like that house would make a wonderful home.” She tried to make her tone neutral.

Rafe nodded and pointed to the main house. “With lots of family in spitting distance.”

When he brought up the next screen, Abby’s heart slammed against her ribs. It was a hand-drawn ring design. Abby had seen so many of Neyland’s design renderings that she’d recognize one anywhere.

“I had to scan this in. It’s a little rough. A man would want a woman’s input about a few details before getting something like this made.”

“Mmm.” Abby couldn’t speak. If she could have, she wouldn’t have known what to say. The ring would be beautiful—if she allowed it to be made. Though she wouldn’t want to give any input. She would take pleasure in seeing the ring of his choice on her hand because he chose it.
If
that happened. Big if. But she couldn’t help but wonder—how would it look with a sapphire as the central stone?

“Last picture.” Rafe changed the screen. “This is my first PowerPoint, so it’s short.”

The picture was of the rose parlor at Beauford Bend.

“I like this room,” Rafe said, “even if there was a little dustup in there not long ago where my hygiene and hairstyle was questioned. When I was growing up, we lived in the family wing, just like now. But on really special occasions, we used this room. This is where Santa came, where we had birthday parties, first communion parties, and where we celebrated Camille’s baptism. I have good memories of this room, and I’d like to make some more. I figure by Thanksgiving, it’ll be too cold to use the wedding grove, but this room is a nice place for a wedding. Beau will be home.”

Rafe turned off the computer and took her hand. “How about it, Abby? You and me, Thanksgiving? Making the best memory of all?”

Everything in Abby’s being urged her to throw her arms around Rafe and tell him, yes, yes, a million times yes. And she might have if it had only involved the two of them, but there were children to consider, and for their sake, she couldn’t make a mistake.

“I want to say yes …” Abby’s voice trailed off.

“But?” His cockiness was gone, but the sweetness was still there.

“But,” Abby said. “So many buts.” She gestured to him. “Not that you aren’t very handsome, but what is it with this new look? Rafe, you can’t try to be someone you’re not.”

“No. And I’m not trying to do that, but I am going to be the best me that I already am—for myself, my girls, and—if you’ll let me—for your boy, and you. If showing up here like this will make your family even one little bit more comfortable and that makes things better for you, I’m glad to do it.”

What was left of her heart melted. What he’d done was so unnecessary, so utterly beside the point, but so completely sweet.

“Look, I know a haircut and some church clothes can’t fix anything. I told you I loved you and left you all in the same day. I almost went back on my word and went back on the circuit. But I didn’t do it, and I’m not going to. I hope that counts for something.”

“I hope so, too.”

“But you’re afraid the next time something goes wrong, it’ll happen all over again.”

“I can’t deny it,” she admitted. “And things
will
go wrong. They always do with everyone, all the time.”

“Do you know why I didn’t come here sooner?”

“You were busy making a PowerPoint?”

He laughed a little under his breath. “That, among other things.” He squeezed her hand that he still held. “I found out I didn’t cause Camille’s death, or the fire. It’s a long story, but there was an autopsy that we never knew about but Coach McKenzie, Neyland’s father, did. He told Gabe a while back. Camille died of smoke inhalation before my mother ever threw her off the balcony. And the campfire didn’t cause the beach house to burn.”

“Oh, Rafe.” She had no idea what to say beyond that. No wonder he seemed lighter.

“Yeah. I won’t kid you, Abby. I’m still scared to death that something will happen to my girls and scared of being a parent. Before, I agreed to quit bull riding because you wanted it. But now, I want off the circuit. I want to be with my kids—and with you. I’m never going to leave them. I’m going stay there and do the best I can.”

“Every parent is afraid, Rafe. And that’s all you can do.”

“I spent a lot of time with Jackson and Gabe this week. For separate reasons, they both blamed themselves for our family tragedy, though neither turned out to be valid.”

Abby gasped. So much pain, so much horror. Yet Jackson and Gabe had turned out strong and had healthy, happy relationships. Maybe, just maybe …

“Turns out, for all that Jackson would move into a beehive and try to boss the queen around, he’s pretty smart about some things. And one of the things he told me was that I was dead wrong to try to tell you how to feel about Gregory’s death. And he’s right. I still think it would be better for you and Phillip if you could deal with that, but the way I’m going to help you is to respect your privacy in the matter. I’m certainly not going to tell you we can’t have a life together until you get over your anger. Having a life with you is what I want most.”

“Funny that,” Abby said. “I have actually made some headway. I think it took coming back here where we grew up to help me remember all the good between us. And there was a lot of good. In the end, he wanted an adventure. He made an error in judgment, and it’s time I put it in perspective.”

“I’m guessing we’ll both take two steps forward and one back until the day comes when we’re just going forward. But I want for us to take that walk together.” Rafe leaned toward her, and she let herself rest and revel in his eyes before his lips met hers. Then, for a little bit, she forgot about his eyes and everything else.

Finally, he lifted his mouth from hers but stayed close, so close. “I broke a promise to you, but I came here today to keep another.” She was beginning to like that cocky, teasing tone.

“Oh?” She was too breathless to say anything else.

“Back in the beginning, when you blackmailed me—”

“Such an ugly word!”

“Well, when we struck a bargain. I told you back then that I’d be back at Beauford Bend in time to trick-or-treat. I happen to know the best trick-or-treating is at the Beauford Harvest Festival. I’ve got Jackson’s plane waiting at the airport. I figure, even taking into account the time I need to show my company manners to your family like a man ought to do, we can be home in plenty of time to show a cowboy and two mini vampires a good time.”

Home.
That might be one of the best words ever invented.

“I have a couple of conditions.” Abby stroked his hair.

“I can’t think of anything I’d say no to, but you’d better tell me.”

“Will you let your hair grow again? And as for the chaps—I’m going to have to see you in those on a regular basis. That’s nonnegotiable.”

“I think I can accommodate the lady, as long as she understands I’m going to want to see her in some pearls on a regular basis—and not much else.”

“I can agree to that.”

“And how about the ring, Thanksgiving in the rose parlor, and the house with the fireplaces and big rooms? Can you agree to that?” And he widened those eyes—
always those eyes
—at her.

“Yes.” Abby threw her arms around his neck. “Yes—forever and ever, yes.”

And they laughed together.

Alicia Hunter Pace is the pseudonym for the writing team, Jean Hovey and Stephanie Jones. They live in North Alabama and share a love of old houses, football, and writing stories with a happily ever after.

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