Redeeming Rafe (3 page)

“Don’t you think you ought to take them back to Texas?” Jackson asked.

“I would if I could. I tried to leave them there in the first place.”

“So you didn’t kidnap them?”

“Kidnap them? Do you think I’ve lost my mind?”

“Candidly? Yes. Yes, I do think that. And I am thinking it more every second.”

“Enough.” Emory walked back toward the truck. “They’re going to wake up eventually, and I intend to get a look at them.”

Rafe was hot on her heels. “Don’t do it, Emory. You’ll be sorry!”

But she kept walking until she got to the truck and threw open the back door.

Everyone gathered around and peered inside. Miraculously, they kept on sleeping.

Jackson leaned in for a better look and his face went completely white. Finally, he spoke.

“Well, this much is clear: they’re yours.”

Rafe nodded. “Afraid so.”

Jackson met his eyes, and they shared a moment of agony. “They look exactly like her.”

And they did—exactly like Camille, their baby sister who had died in the fire.

“How old are they?” Jackson asked.

“Two. Or nearly that. I’ve got their papers.” The same age as Camille when Rafe caused her death.

“And you’re just now telling us? I would have expected this from Gabe …”

“Hey!” Neyland said.

“Pre-you, Neyland. And don’t get on your high horse. You know it’s the truth.” Jackson turned back to Rafe. “Anyway, you’re just now telling us this? May I ask why?”

“I didn’t know.”

“You need to start talking,” Jackson said.

Just then Bella/Alice began to whimper.

Good job, kid. You’ve saved me—for now.

Emory unbuckled her car seat and lifted her over her shoulder. “Ahh, poor baby.” Then something Rafe wouldn’t have anticipated happened. Emory turned on him. “Have you not changed their diapers? Or given them anything to eat except cookies?”

“There were Happy Meals …” Wasn’t that what kids ate?

“And why are they wearing pageant dresses?” Emory spat out the word
pageant
like it was the worst word in the universe.

“I … I don’t know … Is that what those are? The aunt said she wanted them to look nice when I took them.”

Bella/Alice started to cry in earnest, which woke the other Bella/Alice, who also started to cry. Gwen retrieved her and started to coo.

“Rafe, what’s her name?” Gwen asked.

“I, uh, don’t know—at least not exactly. It’s Bella. Or Alice. Look on the bottom of their shoes. It’s written there. If their shoes didn’t get mixed up.”

Just when he thought two women could not look more stunned, Gwen and Emory went the extra mile.

“Really?” Emory demanded. “Their names are Bella and Alice? You’re not making that up?”

“No. What’s the matter with their names?”

Gwen shook her head. “Characters from
Twilight
.”

“
Twilight
?”
That rang a bell. Then it snapped into place. “That movie? You mean these kids are named after
vampires
?” So much for Tawny giving them normal names.

“So it would seem.” Emory bounced the baby, which didn’t do much to quiet her down. “It was a book, too. And Bella wasn’t a vampire—at least not at first.”

“But, still.
Vampires
.”

“I’d say that’s the least of your worries right now,” Neyland said. “So tell me, where is this bearer of your children and bestower of vampire names?”

“What?” Rafe’s head was so fuzzy, he couldn’t work through that.

“Their mother, Rafe,” Jackson said. “Where is the mother?”

“Oh. Dead.”

“Dead?” Emory asked as if she didn’t know the meaning of the word.

“Yeah, that,” Rafe said.

They all looked at him like they were expecting more, but what else was there to say?

“Does Gabe know about this?” Neyland asked.

“Not unless you’ve already called and told him,” Rafe said.

“What could I have told him?” Neyland snapped. “You haven’t told us anything.”

Again, they were all stunned to silence.

“Look.” Gwen passed the Bella/Alice she was holding to Dirk and stepped in front of Emory and held her arms out to the other one. “Clearly Rafe, Jackson, and Emory need to have a private conversation, and these babies need to be bathed and fed. Dirk and I will take them down to our house and take care of that.”

“I’ll help you,” Neyland said.

“Wait.” Relief settled over Rafe as he moved to the rear of his truck and opened the cap. Someone who knew how to run a baby was going to take over. And with any luck, after they had their “private conversation,” Emory would take on the job full time and he could get back to bull riding. “Here’s their equipment.” He pulled out a box and a couple of bags, though he was unsure what was in them.

Gwen and Emory looked at each other.

“Equipment?” Gwen asked.

“You know. Clothes. Shoes. But don’t get them mixed up. Maybe write their names on the bottoms of their feet when you take their shoes off.”

Neyland closed her eyes and shook her head.

“Maybe we could call in a tattoo artist,” Dirk said.

“Isn’t there some kind of law about that?” Rafe asked. “Otherwise—”

Gwen put a hand up. “Rafe, you need to stop talking. Every time you open your mouth, it’s getting a little harder for me to remember that you’re the sweet, lovable twin.”

That again. “Yeah? Well, see, here’s the thing, Gwen. I’ve never claimed to be sweet or lovable, and I am definitely not feeling it right now. I’ve had a bad night.”

And a bad few days.

Emory took his arm. “Let’s go in the house. I’ll cook you something.”

Not that on top of everything else. Emory’s cooking never did anyone any favors. But he let her lead him through the back door to Beauford Bend’s commercial kitchen, with Jackson bringing up the rear.

“Sit. Both of you.” Emory pointed to the round, oak table that had been in the kitchen since even before Jackson had made enough money to have the house renovated. “We’re not talking about this until Rafe’s had coffee and something to eat.”

“I’ll make the coffee,” Jackson said.

“So, how has everything been at Beauford Bend?” Rafe asked as he let himself down in the chair.

Jackson and Emory looked at each other and then began to laugh in spite of themselves.

“Frankly, right now I don’t remember,” Jackson said. “I’ve been blindsided.”

“You?” Jackson didn’t know blindsided.

“I told you we weren’t talking about this yet.” Emory cracked eggs into a bowl.

“Why didn’t you call?” Jackson didn’t often ignore Emory’s wishes.

“I don’t know.” And he really didn’t.

Jackson brought two mugs of coffee to the table, handed one to Rafe, and sipped from the other as he sat down.

“What about your wife?” Rafe asked.

“What about her?” Jackson glanced at Emory.

“Doesn’t she get coffee?”

“No. She doesn’t want any.”

“No, she doesn’t.” Before taking a seat beside Jackson, Emory set plates of scrambled eggs and toast in front of both men. The eggs were only a little burned, and the toast looked fine.

“Aren’t you having any?” Rafe asked.

“No,” Emory said. “Maybe later.”

Rafe took a bite of the eggs. Not too bad, and that was a good thing because he had to eat it regardless.

“So,” Jackson said.

“Here we go.” Rafe took a gulp of coffee.

“So the girls’ mother died?”

“Motorcycle accident,” Rafe said. “Last week.”

Emory and Jackson exchanged looks and grimaced.

“Are you all right?” Emory asked. “That is … did you love her?”

Questions only a romantic would ask.

No, I’m not all right, and no I didn’t love her.

“I’m fine,” Rafe said. “See, here’s the thing. I didn’t know her.”

“Didn’t
know
her?” Emory looked at him wide-eyed.

“Well, I did. Sure. Briefly. Really, just that one night after a rodeo in Denton. I hadn’t seen or heard from her since. Until a few days ago. And even then, I didn’t so much hear from her as from her sister.”

Emory put her head in her hands. “Rafe. I don’t even know what to say.”

Me either.

“I know what to say,” Jackson said.

“You always do, big brother.”

“Start at the beginning.”

Rafe swallowed the last of his toast and pushed his plate aside. “Sometimes in spite of a condom, Mr. Sperm will find Ms. Egg and—”

Jackson slammed his hand on the table. “What in the hell is wrong with you? If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were Gabe with this smart talk. It’s unlike you.”

“That’s it. I’m Gabe. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve impersonated Rafe. See, Neyland and I were already engaged before I found out about the babies, so I’m trying to figure this out.”

“I could almost believe that,” Jackson said. “I’m tempted to make you show me your appendectomy scar, or lack thereof.”

“Yeah, well. Can’t fake that. But back to the original question. What’s wrong with me? I’ve been in a truck for a lot of hours with two mini vampires who were not one bit happy.”

Emory put a hand over his. “Tell us, Rafe. Start at the beginning. Or rather, when you found out about the girls. We’ve already established that they’re the result of a one-night stand.”

Yeah. The irony was, unlike Gabe, Rafe had been a late bloomer—hadn’t even lost his virginity until after high school when he’d gone on the rodeo circuit full time. And for a lot of years, there had been a lot of buckle bunnies only too happy to accommodate any rodeo cowboy, but who really aspired to the top of the heap—a bull rider, especially one of Rafe’s caliber. It had been too easy. But somewhere along the way, he’d gotten bored with it all, had become ashamed of himself—though not soon enough.

“Raphael …” Apparently, he’d been silent too long for Jackson’s liking. Might as well get it over with.

“As I said, Tawny was a one-night stand. I’m not proud of it. I’ve got plenty not to be proud of—but I did not know about those babies. I swear.”

“Settle down, Rafe. We believe you,” Jackson said.

“I admit, it took me a little bit to place her when I got the summons to appear for DNA testing three days ago. And really, I didn’t think much of it, didn’t think it could be true. I was in Oklahoma and pretty pissed off that I had to go to Denton.” He sighed. “But I did. There were three of us summoned, but the minute Tawny’s sister set eyes on me, she said there was no doubt. I was the only blond. And Tawny was dark headed. When she showed me a picture of them, I knew, too.”

“And by now Tawny was …” Emory said gently and let her voice trail off.

“Dead. The funeral was over. She had always refused to say who the father was. Turns out, there was a good reason for that. She didn’t know. But on her deathbed, she gave Fawn—that’s her sister—three names. I won. Yea!”

Jackson closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose before looking up again. “But surely, you had the DNA test. You didn’t just accept it on hair coloring and—” He stopped short.

“And that there are two of them? And that they look like our little sister? But never fear. I had the test. There’s no doubt.”

“And Tawny’s family was willing to give them up?” Emory said.

“
Willing
is the understatement of the century. Though that sounds worse than it is. Tawny’s mother and sister care about them—cried when I took them. But they couldn’t keep them. Tawny and the girls lived with her mother, but the mother has COPD and is on oxygen. Fawn lives in the trailer next door, but she has four children of her own. I offered to give financial support and let the girls stay, but those women have all they can handle.”

Jackson let out a sound that Rafe couldn’t quite identify, but he’d heard it directed at Gabe before. “You mean to tell me you were willing to leave those babies—our own flesh and blood—to live in what sounds like a nearly destitute situation?”

“I was willing to leave them with the only people they have ever known and offer support.” Yeah. That sounded good. But in truth, he was willing to leave them because he’d already caused the death of one baby girl—not to mention his parents—and the best thing for those girls was to be as far from him as possible. Still, Jackson’s reaction was good news. That meant he was already feeling ownership. “Anyway. Tawny’s people are good people. They didn’t ask for back child support.”

“But you gave it anyway?” Emory said like she already knew.

“It seemed the right thing to do—the only thing.”

Jackson nodded, approving. “What’s to say they won’t come back and want the babies? Or more money?”

Rafe didn’t respond to the first thing, because as far as he was concerned, that would be good news. “I don’t know, Jackson. If they do, I guess I’ll give them more money. My agent—you remember Kevin—helped me figure out how much child support to give, and he drew up papers that everybody signed.”

“And what do the papers say? Do you even know?” Jackson asked.

That was fair. Rafe had never been one to give legalities much thought. That’s what Kevin was for.

“They say I gave the money and Fawn and her mother won’t ask for any more or ask for the babies back. And I said they could see the girls if they wanted.”

Jackson groaned. “I’m not sure how much Kevin knows about family law. I’d like my attorneys to look at those documents.”

Rafe shrugged. “Whatever.” He got up and poured himself another cup of coffee. He almost offered Jackson some, but decided he didn’t deserve it.

“What next?” Emory asked.

What next, indeed.

“I’ve got to be in Tulsa next week,” Rafe said.

“Do you, now?” Jackson challenged him.

“Yes, Jackson, I do. A man has to make a living, and this is the only way I know how.” Jackson hated Rafe’s profession, would put all his brothers in velvet-lined boxes and feed them milk and honey if they would allow it.

“Do you think Bella and Alice will be all right hanging out in the back of your truck while you’re riding bulls? I would advise you to alert someone they’re back there in case you get bucked off and killed.”

There was a saying in bull riding circles: it wasn’t a question of if you would get hurt, it was just when and how bad. Rafe had been pretty lucky—a few dislocated shoulders, a broken collarbone, cracked ribs, and a concussion or six. Nothing that kept him out of the game for long.