The Bachelor’s Surrender (10 page)

Sitting across from Kristin at the redwood picnic table situated under a large shade tree in the yard, she firmly rerouted her thoughts back to the other woman’s question. “Considering Chad and I are disrupting his life for a week, yes, Rafe’s been pretty hospitable.”

“Chad is a wonderful little boy, and I don’t think it would hurt for Rafe to have some disruption in his life.” Kristin reached for the covered pitcher of iced tea on the table and poured them each a plastic tumbler full of the cool drink. “This is good for him. The past year has been difficult with his accident and all, and I’m really hoping that you and Chad make him realize what a recluse he’s been and that he’s only hurting himself. Nothing I say seems to make a difference.”

Lauren wasn’t having much luck in that department, either. She agreed that Rafe was hurting, way deep inside, yet Lauren didn’t know enough about Rafe’s past to make assumptions about the cynical man. She toyed with the idea of asking Kristin what happened to make Rafe so hard and bitter, but thought better of it. If she ever learned the truth, she wanted to hear it from Rafe himself.

Taking a drink of her iced tea, Lauren followed Kristin’s gaze to where Rafe, James, and Chad were doting on the new foal. James was talking to Chad, and the young boy laughed at something he said. A wistful smile curved Kristin’s mouth, mingling with the pure love that etched her features.

“So, how did you and James meet?” she asked curiously, puzzled by the two conflicting emotions she’d witnessed. “He’s a wonderful man, and seems crazy about you.” Their devotion for one another had been immediately evident to Lauren, in the way the couple looked at one another, and the gentle, reverent way James touched his wife. If Rafe doubted love existed, he only needed to take a closer look at his sister and brother-in-law’s relationship to affirm its existence.

Kristin blushed a becoming shade of pink. “I’ve known James all my life, actually. His family grew up in Cedar Creek, and I went to school with him, but we were always just friends. It wasn’t until after my father died about seven years ago that we really noticed one another. Rafe hired James as a foreman to keep up the spread while he was off traveling the circuit, and, well, one thing led to another and we fell in love.”

“So this is your family’s ranch then?”

“Yes.” Kristin unwrapped a plate of lemon cake and urged Lauren to take a slice, which she did. “After James and I married, Rafe took a parcel of the land and built his own place, and James started up a cattle operation, which has done quite well.”

Looking around, Lauren had to agree. The land was fertile, the barn and stables in good shape, the livestock well cared for. The house Rafe and Kristin had grown up in appeared to be newly renovated, inside and out. The charming old Victorian built of weathered white clapboard had an equally appealing wraparound porch complete with a hanging swing. The yard was well-manicured and huge. The only thing missing from Kristin and James’ loving marriage and comfortable life was children.

“Do you and James plan to have kids?” she asked, licking the stickiness from the delicious cake off her fingers.

A pained looked crossed Kristin’s expression, which Lauren immediately caught.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, unsure what painful memories she’d tapped into, but she didn’t want Kristin to feel obligated to unearth them. “I didn’t mean to pry—”

“No, it’s quite all right.” Kristin took a deep breath as if to gather her composure and smiled, but the sentiment didn’t reach her eyes. “James and I would love a family, but I’m not able to have children.”

Lauren felt as though she’d been slammed in her stomach with a fist. Wanting a large family herself one day, she couldn’t imagine the possibility, or the emotional anguish, of being unable to conceive a baby. Her heart went out to Kristin. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“I still find it hard to believe myself,” she said a little sadly as she ran a finger down the condensation forming on her tumbler. “A few months after James and I married, I was diagnosed with endometriosis, and had to have a hysterectomy. James has been great about the fact that we’ll never have kids, but I think about it all the time. I try to console myself with the second graders I teach during the school year, but it’s times like this, during the summer when I don’t have that daily contact with kids, that I feel the loss more acutely.”

Lauren nodded, her feminine side comprehending that pain. “Have you ever thought about adoption?”

Kristin’s shoulder lifted in a shrug. “It’s crossed my mind, but I’m just not sure about it.”

“Maybe you should think about it seriously,” Lauren suggested, and took a drink of her iced tea. “There are so many children out there like Chad who need a loving home, unless you’d prefer to adopt a baby instead of a grown child.”

“I don’t know,” Kristin admitted, a soft smile of longing touching her mouth. “There’s just something so sweet and innocent about a little baby . . .”

“I understand.” And Lauren truly did. Most couples who made the choice to adopt wanted a newborn, an uninfluenced infant wholly dependent on no one but them.

A squeal of laughter made them both look out onto the lawn, where James was tossing a Frisbee to Chad, who then sailed the disc to Blackie. The agile dog jumped into the air, caught the Frisbee in his mouth, and trotted it back to James to begin the cycle again. Rafe stood underneath a nearby tree, his back braced against the thick trunk, his right knee angled to take the pressure off his leg. The brim of his hat covered his eyes, but she felt him watching her as she’d sensed many times since yesterday. That reserve of his was frustrating and maddening.

Smile for me, Rafe. Just once. Come on, it’ll feel so good you might not want to stop. . .

Her mental telepathy either didn’t reach him, or he ignored the vibes. Stubborn man that he was, she suspected the latter.

“I think what you do for those foster kids is incredibly generous,” Kristin said, reining in Lauren’s wandering thoughts.

She glanced back at Rafe’s sister. “I enjoy making them happy.”

“Rafe told me a little about Chad’s situation. Losing both parents must have been incredibly difficult for him.”

Lauren verbally agreed, knowing that Chad still struggled with the loss of the only family he’d ever known.

“What will happen to Chad after this week when you return to California?”

“He’ll be placed in another foster home. I’m really hoping to find him a family that he fits in with. It’s not always easy to do.”

Kristin’s eyes rounded in surprise, and her gaze drifted to the young boy who seemed so carefree and playful with Blackie and James. “I can’t imagine him not fitting in. He’s a good boy, has a good disposition, and he’s so very warm and bright.”

“Human nature being what it is, personalities don’t always click,” Lauren said, having seen the harsher side of foster care. “Sometimes it takes a few foster homes before we find the right family for a client.”

Kristin seemingly digested that, her expression filled with compassion. “I hope he finds a family that will give him all the love and attention he deserves.”

Lauren smiled. “Yeah, me too.”

Three hours later, after eating barbequed hamburgers, homemade potato salad and a fresh fruit medley, everyone converged indoors to relax and let their meal settle. Chad excitedly announced that he’d brought his scrapbook of Rafe and his rodeo days, and withdrew the album from the backpack he’d worn on the ride over.

The canvas bag held all of Chad’s most treasured possessions—a few photos of his parents, his scrapbook of Rafe’s career, a worn and tattered floppy-eared bunny he’d had since infancy and a couple of his favorite action-figures. Lauren knew the backpack was a security blanket of sorts for Chad, and he rarely went far without it.

“Here’s a picture of Rafe when he won the PRCA Bull Riding Championship for the third time in a row,” Chad said to Kristin and James, who sat on either side of him on the sofa. All three of their gazes were drawn to the color photograph taken from a trade magazine.

Situated on the love seat across from the sofa, with Rafe sitting beside her, Lauren was able to fully enjoy the way Chad effortlessly charmed Kristin and James with his animated conversation and his infectious enthusiasm. The young boy had a captive audience, and took advantage of their undivided attention.

For as much as Chad enjoyed spending time with Rafe, Lauren noticed a special connection between the boy and James, a natural paternal rapport that went beyond the politeness of being warm and amicable to an orphaned boy.

“And here’s an article on Rafe when he rode Twister for the full eight seconds and won the purse for that event at the Wild, Wild West Rodeo. Lucky number seventeen!” Chad drawled like a seasoned rodeo announcer, making everyone but Rafe laugh at his antics.

Chad glanced across the room to the man he idolized, his gaze expectant. “Do you remember that win, Rafe?”

“Sure do,” Rafe replied, his low, even tone disguising just how uncomfortable this trip down memory lane seemed to make him.

Chad continued, pointing out the pictures, features, and write-ups on Rafe he’d collected over the years. The more Chad acclaimed Rafe and his prestigious career, the more Lauren detected a growing change in the man sitting beside her. The tension radiating off him was nearly palpable, and she resisted the strong urge to lay her fingers over the hand absently rubbing his right thigh in a restless motion. A small consolation considering how troubled and anxious this entire scenario made him.

“This is my favorite article,” Chad announced, a bit of awe in his voice. He went on to read the caption heading the feature that had reached the entire rodeo community, and beyond. “‘From PRCA champion to hero. It’s all in a day’s work’.” Chad’s gaze met Rafe’s, the emotion in the boy’s eyes heart-felt. “I know you can’t ride bulls any more, but saving that other man’s life was very brave of you.”

Rafe abruptly stood, his expression one of a cornered animal. Swooping up his Stetson from the coffee table next to the couch, he jammed it on his head and gave the occupants of the room a curt nod. “I think I’ll go saddle up the horses so we can head back home before nightfall.”

A combination of confusion and hurt creased Chad’s brow, and he chewed on his lower lip as he watched the man he held in such high esteem leave the living room.

Kristin’s gaze met Lauren’s from across the room, silently urging her to follow her brother and somehow make amends. Lauren felt inadequately equipped to handle Rafe’s emotional demons, but neither did she want to add to Chad’s disappointment.

“I’ll go help Rafe with the horses,” she said meaningfully.

Kristin nodded. “How about you help me with dessert, Chad?” she asked, ruffling his hair to divert his attention. “I made a fresh apple pie this morning, and I can warm you up a slice.”

“With a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top,” James suggested with a grin and bobbing eyebrows as he placed an affectionate hand on Chad’s shoulder to guide him toward the kitchen. “That’s the
only
way to enjoy apple pie.”

“Can I have two scoops of ice cream?” he asked guilelessly, prompting the adults to laugh.

Knowing the young boy was sufficiently occupied, Lauren took a deep, fortifying breath and went in search of her reluctant hero.

“You need to work on your manners, Dalton. Your departure back there was a little rude.”

Rafe stiffened at the sound of Lauren’s mocking voice, but he didn’t turn around to acknowledge her as he slipped a bit into Bronwyn’s mouth. “What do you want, Lauren?” he asked gruffly, still unsettled by what had just transpired up at the house, and the multitude of feelings Chad’s innocent words had unleashed.

She entered the corral and stopped in front of Bronwyn, who greeted her with a gentle nuzzling against her jaw, making Lauren smile and croon sweet words to the mare. To Rafe, she said, “I thought you might need some help.”

He suspected her motives for seeking him out were more self-serving than that. “I have a problem with my leg, not my arms and hands.”

“You also seem to have a problem admitting you’re a hero for saving that bull rider’s life,” she shot back impudently.