Redeeming Rafe (7 page)

“Why wouldn’t it be fair?”

Gabe shook is head. “I don’t know. But I know this: it’s time for me to meet my nieces. Where are they?”

Why did everyone always expect him to know where they were? Wasn’t that Abby’s job?

• • •

“And how does the cow go?” Abby held up the cow from Phillip’s Little People Fun Sounds Farm set. They were sitting on a blanket in the September sunshine in the rose arbor behind the house. The roses were gone, but it was still beautiful. Jackson Beauford and his money made sure that Beauford Bend’s celebrated grounds were kept in pristine condition year-round.

“Moo!” Phillip and Bella yelled simultaneously.

“Moo?” Alice whispered hesitantly.

“That’s right!” Abby scooped up Alice and gave her chubby little cheek a kiss. “You’re so smart.” And it was true. She was. But unlike Bella, Alice was always going to need a little extra encouragement and attention. Of course, Bella would probably rush headlong into everything, hoping for adventures without thinking of the repercussions—like she was rushing off the blanket right now toward the road with Phillip right behind her.

“Come on, Pip! Allie!” Bella called.

“No you don’t!” Abby set Alice back on the blanket and chased them. When Alice joined in, Abby doubled back and herded them away from the road as they all squealed and laughed. It was never too early in the day to tire them out. Once back on the blanket, Abby fell down with the kids in a giggle-tickle pile—though she would never really seriously tickle them.

“What have we here?” a voice from above asked.

She had to remove Phillip from her line of vision to see the identical faces looking down on her. There was a deepened dimple in the left cheek of Gabe’s smiling face, but only the suggestion of one in the Rafe’s—because he was not smiling. She swung around to a sitting position.

“Hello.” She frowned at Rafe. She had suggested rather forcefully that he join his children for breakfast, but he had only shown up toward the end and spent five minutes with them before giving them a cookie and leaving. That was his MO. Show up. Give cookies—which he carried in his pocket like dog treats—and bolt.

She had to keep reminding herself that Rafe was terrified and that he would come around.

Gabe squatted down to child level. “I’ve come to meet my nieces.”

Bella and Alice looked at Gabe wide-eyed, then at Rafe, and then back at Gabe. Then, out of nowhere, they joined hands and began to cry.

“What?” Gabe demanded. “What did I do?”

“They’re confused.” Abby reached for the girls, but they recoiled and threw themselves against Rafe’s legs.

Abby’s breath caught.
Don’t you dare run from them, Rafe Beauford!

Perhaps he was only responding to stimuli or reacting to emotion, but Rafe bent down and ended up with a child in each arm.

Slowly, he turned up his face and met Abby’s eyes. “What’s happening here?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Gabe said.

“There are two of you. It scared them. They’re looking for a safe place.”

“Why me?”

“They know their daddy.”

“There’s nothing safe about me.” With that, Rafe turned his face from hers and locked gazes with his twin. Abby had never seen a more heartbroken look pass between two men.

“Maybe we should do this later,” Gabe said.

Rafe nodded, but he didn’t move. “I don’t know what to do.”

Abby’s heart raced. This could be a defining moment.

“Hug them. Talk to them.”

“What do I say?”

“Explain why there are two of you.”

“Will they understand?”

“Probably not all of it, but enough.”

He pulled them a little closer to him. “Uh. Bella? Alice? Hello.”

Their sniffling subsided.

“You don’t need to be afraid. That’s your Uncle Gabe. He looks like me, the same way you look like each other.”

Bella cocked her head to the side and looked at Gabe with a puzzled but interested look. Alice, on the other hand, buried her face in Rafe’s neck. Rafe froze as a myriad of emotions flashed across this face—fear, tenderness, and panic.

This could be progress.

Or not. Suddenly, Rafe set the girls on their feet and reached into his pocket. “Who wants a cookie?”

“No!” Abby said, but it was too late. The children were already clapping and squealing.

He handed an Oreo to each of the girls and Phillip.

“Later.” And he was gone, with Gabe hot on his trail.

Would it really be later? Or never?

When he wasn’t in a panic, Rafe was bored—and he’d never been bored for a minute in his life until now. Who had time? Well, besides him.

He didn’t read books or watch much television, and there weren’t any bulls to ride. That wasn’t usually an issue when he was here, but it took him a few days to realize that he hadn’t been home in years unless there was something going on like a holiday, funeral, or wedding. And whether it was good times or bad, there had always been something to do. Not so now. Everybody was busy. Emory was throwing up and running parties, Jackson was fussing over Emory and working, Gabe was practicing and spending time with Neyland. Even Dirk, who you could usually count on for some companionship while he worked, had no time, because he was bumping up security due to the extra kids at Beauford Bend. Seemed Dirk feared kidnapping above all other things.

Even so, the last thing Rafe wanted to do was go to a party for Nickolai Glazov and Noel Verden. Not that he had anything against them. They were nice people, but he was in no mood to party—not that he ever was. That was more Gabe’s thing. But he was afraid if he declined, Abby would make him babysit since, as a bridesmaid, she was definitely going to the party. He still hadn’t made up his mind if he was going to Louisville for the wedding this weekend.

On the one hand, it was something to do; on the other, it was too much to do.

After much handwringing and debating, Abby had caved to Emory and Gwen’s insistence that the kids be left behind with sitters for the weekend. A three-hour drive that would likely turn into four if the kids were with them would be a disaster and go down from there.

They had hired some woman from Nashville, whom Dirk had thoroughly vetted, plus a college student who sat for Dirk and Gwen from time to time, and the two high school girls who were watching the kids tonight. That was almost one adult per child. They wouldn’t notice if Rafe was around or not.

But at least he didn’t have to go far for this party, since it was being held downstairs in the original formal rooms of the house. Now if he could just sneak past the nursery …

“Daddy!” That would be Bella.

Damn it all to hell. Why had he agreed to pay to have that Dutch door installed? He actually knew the answer to that question. Abby had wanted it, and when she’d asked, her breasts had looked particularly alluring, so he’d agreed and made a quick exit. Yesterday, when he and Gabe had come upon her rolling around on the ground with those babies, he’d wanted to push the kids aside and join in.

But that could never happen. Condom or not, sex led to babies, and he couldn’t ever do that again. What he was going to do about sex was something he’d figure out later. Maybe a blow-up doll, but with his luck, nine months later balloons would appear—twin balloons that needed food, clothes, and impossible to assemble cribs.

“Daddy!” Bella repeated.

She had spied him just like she did every single time he walked by, because the top part of that nursery Dutch door stayed open all the time. What had the Dutch given the world, anyway, besides complicated doors? Tulips. Dutch ovens. Dutch apple pie. He didn’t need any of that.

“Daddy!” Alice joined in.

Now, they were banging on the bottom part of the door and squealing like they were happy to see him. Which they were. Giving out cookies had made them like him, when he’d only thought they would helped him escape.

He peeped over the top of the door.

“Hello, girls,” said. “I’m your uncle Gabe.”

Bella shook her head. “No, no, no, no. Daddy!”

Couldn’t fool her, or Alice either, any more than he could ever fool Camille.

The other three kids—Phillip, and Gwen and Dirk’s two, Julie and Carter, were across the room playing with the two high school girls who were watching them.

Alice held up her arms to be picked up. He patted her head.

She stood on her toes and stretched her arms. “Up.” And she smiled. Exactly like Camille.

He had to bend over farther to pick Alice up than he’d had to bend for Camille. She’d died before he and Gabe had their growth spurts, though they had been taller than other boys their age at the time.

Alice even smelled like Camille had. Was that some kind of universal baby smell, or was it the powder and soap?

She pulled at his nose.

I wish I were free to love you.

Where had that come from?

“Should I take her?” The girl—Hannah was her name—held out her arms for Alice. “So you can get to the party?”

“Uh … yes.” He handed Alice back over the open door.

“No!!! Daddy!” she whimpered.

Cookie time. He reached into his pocket and brought out the Ziploc bag. The others must have picked up the scent, because suddenly there were four little hands reaching toward him and clamoring for cookies. Good thing he’d refilled the bag.

Only Julie, who’d just had her fourth birthday, stood a little apart with her hands on her hips and a frown on her face.

“They’re not ’posed to have that,” she said.

Yep. Dirk’s kid, all right. The sitters weren’t willing to call him on it, but Julie was. Come to think of it, she’d probably gotten that from Gwen.

“No? What about you? Are you supposed to have it?”

She frowned more. “What kind?”

“Chocolate chip.”

He could see the Dirk and the Gwen in Julie fight it out for the decision. Dirk won because, at the end of the day, he did what he wanted. She held out her hand.

Would the Tawny in Bella and Alice have to fight it out with the Rafe in them? Either way, it wasn’t good. They’d either be riding bulls or chasing bull riders. He felt a little sick.

While the children were distracted, he made a break for it and headed somewhere else he didn’t want to be.

• • •

“Do you mind replenishing this?” Emory held out a chafing dish insert of hot, black-eyed pea dip to Abby. “I told Gwen I would, but I feel a little sick.”

She looked positively green. Abby hurried to take the dish and pointed Emory toward the open French doors. “Go out on the terrace. I’ll be right behind you with some water.” Though no one had told her and she certainly wasn’t going to ask, Abby suspected Emory was pregnant.

“Thanks.”

A few minutes later, Abby pressed a crystal double old fashion glass into Emory’s hand. There were a few people milling around watching Jackson’s crew set up his equipment. Everyone was excited that he was going to sing. They had debated whether to have him perform out here or up in the ballroom, and Abby was glad they had opted for the terrace. It was a beautiful fall night with a breathtaking harvest moon—the kind of night that could almost make you believe in love, second chances, and happily ever after. But only almost.

“It’s sparkling water.” That had helped when she was pregnant with Phillip.

Emory sipped. “That
is
better.”

“Can I get you anything else?” Abby asked.

“No. I think I’m just a little overheated. But I’m not sure I can help replenish the food tonight.”

Gwen had made the food, and Emory had hired plenty of help, but Abby, along with Christian and Neyland, were also hostesses tonight.

“You planned the whole thing,” Abby said. “I think the rest of us can keep an eye on the buffet.”

“Those hockey players sure can eat.” Emory laughed. “I’m not sure Noel’s mother knows what happens when you invite an entire NHL team for a meal. I wonder if we ought to warn her to double the reception food.”

“And there’s also Gabe,” Abby said. Gabe’s appetite was legend everywhere he went. Rafe, on the other hand, didn’t seem to eat much. Was that situational or the norm?

“What about me?” Gabe stepped up with a plate loaded with food.

Abby took it from him and handed it off to a waiter.

“Hey!”

“You can’t have that here. Emory is nauseated, and looking at food makes it worse.”

“You okay?” Gabe wrinkled his forehead.

Emory nodded. “I just got too hot.”

Gabe sighed. “As much as I love Gwen’s pea dip, it wasn’t real food anyway. Whatever happened to sitting down at a table with a chunk of cow at parties? I swear snack food buffets were designed to starve a man to death.”

“Because, clearly, everything is about you and your stomach,” Emory said, but she was smiling.

“If only you could impart that to the world.” Gabe turned to Abby. “Where’s my brother?”

“Which one?”

“The one who isn’t getting ready to sing,” Gabe asked.

That was a good question. “I wasn’t aware it was my turn to watch him.”

“Yeah? I thought I sent out the schedule.”

“Bossing people around again?” Neyland stepped up and looped her arm through Gabe’s.

“Trying, but with little success. And they took my black-eyed pea dip from me.”

The two of them looked at each other like they were seeing deep into each other’s souls and discovering new secrets of the universe. What would it be like to have that?

“Poor baby.” Neyland patted Gabe’s cheek. “I hope you don’t faint.”

“You would pick me up.” When Gabe said this, the usual light banter was gone from his tone and replaced with deep, tender conviction. Abby felt as if she were spying on something special and private.

Gabe and Neyland must have felt that, too, because they shook their heads a little and laughed.

“You look wonderful, Abby,” Neyland said.

“Like some kind of flapper girl,” Gabe joined in.

Abby smoothed her hands over the blush champagne silk slip of a dress. It was old. She’d bought it to wear to the symphony during the
Great Gatsby
craze a few years ago. She’d only worn it once, because with its thin straps and hemline that ended four inches above her knees, the dress showed more of her than her usual style.