Читать книгу Mendoza's Return - Susan Crosby - Страница 9

Rafe pulled into his garage a little after seven o’clock that evening. He saw the living room lights were on even before he spotted his father’s pickup. He was probably sanding woodwork, a tedious process on the way to restoring the hundred-year-old house in a neighborhood where the homes were old but well maintained. Rafe had recently furnished one of his four bedrooms for his father, who’d become a fixture, not always spending the night, but staying often enough to warrant a bed of his own. Luis Mendoza had seemed to age ten years since losing his wife, Rafe’s mother, to pneumonia a year ago.

Rafe unlocked the back door and stepped into a dark kitchen, turning on lights as he went.

“Hey, Dad, I’m home!” he called out above the sound of sandpaper scraping wood.

“In the living room!”

There was no evidence that his father had eaten—no dishes, no jumbled-up McDonald’s bag in the trash. Rafe passed through the dining room and on into the living room. “How’s it going?”

“Almost ready to stain.” From where he was kneeling he arched his back, stretching and groaning.

That’s how I’ll look in thirty years, Rafe thought, although the same could be true of his three brothers, as well. Their mother’s DNA showed up in other ways—drive, work ethic, sociability and deep love of family, but that could also be said of their father, too. Rafe missed his mom more than he could say, so he could only imagine the depth of his father’s loss.

Rafe had expected to have the kind of marriage his parents had—with Melina. He still grieved the loss of that dream, and the children who hadn’t come.

Rafe laid his suit jacket over the back of his leather sofa then crouched next to his father and rubbed his back. “How long have you been at it?”

“Couple hours.” He angled away from Rafe’s touch and gestured to the entryway table. “Melina stopped by, left you some books and a DVD.”

“She said she would.” Rafe checked out the materials. The DVD was marked “Elliot Anderson.” He took the disc out of the case and headed to his television. “I haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

“Nope.” Luis stood. When he turned sideways he almost disappeared. He’d probably lost thirty pounds, twenty of which he couldn’t afford to lose. “Is that the way the wind’s blowing these days? Melina Lawrence again?”

“It’s a business thing. I might be helping her out with something.”

“She was gone for your mother’s funeral, but she came to see me as soon as she got back.” He brushed wood dust from his shirt. “I don’t understand why she hasn’t gotten married yet. She’s about the best catch in Red Rock, that’s for sure. Doesn’t know how beautiful she is. Loves people. Smile that lights up the world.”

Rafe hadn’t seen much of that famous smile since he’d returned, but he remembered it, as well as the slow, sexy one she’d perfected, the one he’d likened to her crooking a come-hither finger at him.

“I’m surprised you’re even talking to her, though, son. You suffered a lot.”

“Everyone moves on, Dad. You seem to be okay around her.”

“For me, sure. But not for you. I don’t want to see you hurt again.”

“I’m okay. But thanks for the support.”

He slid the DVD into the player then hit the start button. The quality wasn’t bad, but the camera was a pretty good distance away.

“That Beau Bandero?” his father asked, coming up beside Rafe.

“In the flesh.”

“A lot of flesh, too. Heard he’s been drinking a lot. It shows— Did he just hit that kid?”

Rafe didn’t answer, wanting to hear the exchange between Beau and Elliot, which happened just as Melina had described. “What do you think, Dad? Intentional?”

“Don’t know. Play it again.”

They both watched intently, then watched it again. One more time. “I can’t tell,” Rafe said.

“Beau’s got his problems, but I don’t think hitting a kid with a ball is something he’d do.”

Rafe eyed his father curiously. “You’ve always championed Beau.”

Luis shrugged and moved away, picking up his sanding tools. “I know what he had to put up with at home. Mr. Bandero was hard on him. Working at his ranch, I saw it all the time.”

“Well, Beau’s lucky that people aren’t willing to drive their kids to San Antonio to play ball. Some parents will put up with a lot to have their kid trained by a former big leaguer.” Rafe turned off the DVD without ejecting it, figuring he’d watch it a few more times later. “I’m going to heat up some leftover pizza. Sit down, Dad. Put your feet up for a while. You don’t need to work all day at the ranch then exhaust yourself here.”

“It’s the only way I can sleep,” his father said softly, dropping onto the sofa, his shoulders slumped.

Rafe closed his eyes in gratitude. Finally. Finally, he wasn’t hiding his pain.

“I miss your mother so much. The nights are too quiet, and the mornings too empty.” He made an effort to smile. “Been thinking about getting a dog.”

Rafe sat next to him. “Why don’t you just move in with me? You know there’s plenty of room.”

“I need to be at the ranch. Mr. Bandero’s been very patient with me, but everyone seems to think that because it’s been a year, it’s time. That I should be recovered.”

“Not everyone understands that recovery is individual, Dad.” Although Rafe had also been hoping that by now his father would be emerging from mourning.

“That’s what Melina said, too. She also said I should tell you how I’m feeling.” He shrugged. “Figured you knew, actually.”

“It’s hard to miss the signs. You’ve lost too much weight.”

“Your mom was the ranch cook, and a good one. I can’t bear to sit down at the table to eat someone else’s cooking, son.”

“I get that. Which is why I think you should live with me. We’ll take care of each other.”

“Wouldn’t that cramp your style with the women?”

“I’m as celibate as you.”

“That won’t last for long.” He put his hands on his knees and shoved himself up. “I think I’ll skip dinner and head back to the ranch. Thanks for listening.”

“Nope. Dinner first, then you can leave.”

Luis crossed his arms. “You’re a pushy kid.”

“Yeah? Who taught me to be that?”

“Your mother.”

Rafe laughed, slung an arm over his father’s shoulders and headed to the kitchen, the only completely remodeled room in the house. He lingered over pizza and beer with his dad, getting him to open up more, trying to figure out if there was a way to help his father then deciding he was already doing it. He’d made the right decision, moving back to Red Rock, being there for his dad, which mattered even more than Rafe had thought.

After his father drove away, Rafe watched the video again. He sat on the sofa and opened one of the books Melina had dropped off, but he couldn’t focus on it, and he’d already researched a lot himself.

Seeing Beau on video brought back memories Rafe had put aside. He didn’t want to think about them now, either, didn’t want the memories to affect what he did regarding Elliot. Rafe and Beau had been baseball rivals since they were kids, the intensity fierce and unrelenting, but Rafe needed to ignore that for now. Would Beau do the same?

Restless, Rafe took off for a walk. Although Red Rock had grown substantially since he was a child, it was still a small town, easy to negotiate on foot. He came to Red, the restaurant owned by his aunt and uncle. The classy eatery was closed on Monday, so Rafe didn’t stop. A little farther down the street he came across Melina’s office, a small, rustic storefront with a shingle that read simply Red Rock Occupational Therapy Group, Melina Lawrence and Quanah Ruiz, AOTA-Certified Therapists, Specializing in Stroke Rehabilitation and Autism Spectrum Disorders.

The blinds were shut, but Rafe had glanced inside once before and knew it had a small lobby where Angie worked as administrative assistant, and a doorway leading to whatever other office space was in the back.

By asking around a little, he learned that Melina lived around the corner in a twelve-unit townhouse complex, her two-bedroom end unit purchased less than a year ago. What he didn’t know was her phone number.

He’d been headed to her place when he’d left his house. He just hadn’t admitted it to himself.

Rafe used his cell phone to call Information, but she wasn’t listed. He tucked his phone back in his pocket then kept walking until he was in front of her building. Lights were still on downstairs, but he really couldn’t just drop in on her.

Or could he?

It was nine-thirty. Was that too late? He hesitated a little longer, then decided to go home. He had questions for her and had planned to catch her at her office the next day before the meeting with the Andersons. It was better to just stick with the plan.

Rafe took about ten steps, stopped, then turned around and made his way into the courtyard of her complex, ignoring the chastising voice in his head. Steam rose from a narrow, rectangular, lighted pool. Someone was swimming laps, but it couldn’t be Melina, because she had a paralyzing fear of the water after a childhood experience.

He moved around the courtyard as unobtrusively as possible, spotted the door to her unit then hesitated again. He had no idea how she would react to his just dropping in, yet for a reason he couldn’t articulate, he wanted to know.

“Rafe?”

He spun around. Melina was resting her arms on the pool’s edge, staring at him.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“You’re swimming,” he said in amazement, moving closer. “You never even liked bathtubs.”

“Hand me my towel, would you?” she asked, pointing to one on a chair nearby. She swam to the steps and climbed out, her bright blue one-piece suit clinging like a second skin, her breasts firm, her nipples hard, her wet skin shiny.

He’d almost forgotten how perfectly built she was, not lithe and athletic but curvy and lush. They hadn’t slept together all that many times, at least not overnight, but he’d loved being able to wrap himself around her in bed and touch her whenever he wanted. The few times they’d been able to afford a motel room, it’d seemed as if they’d made love more times than there were hours in the night. Otherwise, their dorm rooms had allowed for only quick get-togethers, pleasurable but not as satisfying.

Now, standing in front of her, Rafe opened her towel and draped it around her. He was more than a little tempted to pull her against him and rub her through the towel to dry her off.

“What are you doing here?” she asked again, not moving away but wariness settling in her eyes.

“I was out for a walk.”

Still she didn’t try to put space between them, as if frozen in place. He took it as a sign, inching closer, memories of her consuming him. His gaze dropped to her parted lips, her breath coming softly, quickly. He bent toward her….

Melina spun away from him. “Let’s go inside,” she said, pulling her towel tightly around her, then pressing the button for the electric pool cover.

Her body ached for him even as she called herself every kind of idiot. She’d almost kissed him, almost forgotten why they weren’t together. If she hadn’t come to her senses— She didn’t even want to think about it.

Melina was trembling as she walked to her house, cold from the night air, but she’d also pushed herself hard in the pool. Seeing Rafe this morning had set her on edge all day. Caught between the past and present, she’d barely been able to focus on anything. Even Big John had called her on it—and if a sixty-two-year-old cantankerous stroke recovery patient noticed, it was a sure thing that everyone else she’d worked with today would’ve seen a different Melina.

“I’ll be right back,” she said to Rafe once they were inside her living room, then she hurried up the stairs to her bedroom, stripped off her suit and grabbed her jeans and a sweatshirt.

In a hurry, she knocked her robe off the hook in the closet. Her gaze landed on the framed letter that had hung under her robe. The letter he’d sent all those years ago. She’d finally stopped noticing it—until just this moment. Now it seemed to have its own spotlight.

She didn’t have to read it to know what it said, as it was burned in her memory. She’d framed and hung it to remind her of what could happen if she let someone hold her heart, as he had done.

She closed her eyes for a few seconds. He hadn’t even called her. After all those years, all that love, and he hadn’t even felt that he owed her a phone call ending their relationship.

It all came back to her in one stab-in-the-heart moment—all the pain, all the loneliness, all the anger. And now she had to go downstairs and face him as if nothing was wrong.

It’s been ten years, she reminded herself. You’re not the same person. He isn’t, either. Let it go. Just let it go.

She towel-dried her hair, stared in the mirror for a few seconds, then padded downstairs. He was thumbing through the yearbook she’d left on the coffee table.

“It seems so long ago.” Rafe straightened, no discernible emotion on his face, even though she remembered that the book had been open to the homecoming photos, when they were crowned king and queen.

“A lot of life has happened since then, that’s for sure,” she said casually. “Would you like something to drink?”

“I’m okay, thanks.”

She went into the kitchen, separated from the living room by an open bar counter. She poured herself a glass of water, more to keep distance between them than because of any real thirst.

“When’d you learn to swim?” he asked, leaning against the countertop.

“A couple of years ago. I’d watched so many people conquer fears in order to recover from debilitating diseases or injuries that I decided it was hypocritical of me not to defeat my own.” Of course, she’d also advised a lot of her patients to forgive those people responsible for causing them pain and yet she had never forgiven Rafe—which was also hypocritical. The framed letter was proof of that. “It took me over a year of lessons twice a week.”

“Good for you. So, the nightmares stopped, too?”

“For the most part. I can still see my cousin drowning, but now I see myself diving in and saving her instead of standing by helplessly.”

“You were five years old when it happened, Melina.”

“I know.” And the impact of the experience had changed her life for years. She’d never spent a hot summer day in the river as a teenager. Never even splashed in a kiddie pool as a child.

Melina set down her water glass. “Why are you here?”

He didn’t answer right away, as if gauging her mood. She knew how to keep her expression blank, even though she wanted him to leave. She didn’t want to picture him in her house—or to give in to temptation again. Because no matter how much pain still lingered, she couldn’t escape the attraction that was still there, powerful and tempting. She’d wanted to kiss him by the pool. Turning away had been close to impossible.

“I had a few questions before we meet with the Andersons tomorrow,” he said. “I would’ve called but I didn’t have your number.”

“Yet you know where I live.”

“Some information is easier to obtain than others. I’m guessing you don’t have a landline, that you use only your cell? Anyway, can you find out when the team is practicing again? And is there a way you could get me a team roster, as well?”

“I’ll put my spies to work on it.” She crossed her arms. “Anything else?”

A few beats passed. “If this is making you uncomfortable, I can call you tomorrow at your office.”

She looked at the counter for a moment. She could so easily slip back into the part of their relationship that had worked so well—talking. At least until the very end. Until then they’d talked all the time, about anything and everything. She’d missed that so much, even the occasional argument.

“It’s just weird, Rafe. I haven’t seen you in all these years, and then …” She gestured toward the pool and their almost-kiss. “We need to keep it just business between us. So, do you have more questions?”

He slid his hands into his pockets, signaling something, but she wasn’t sure what.

“In your professional opinion, should we be fighting for Elliot to play ball? Will he be able to do okay at it?”

“His having Asperger’s won’t prevent ultimate success, but it will take him longer to learn and he needs more intensive, individual work, which his father has been giving him.”

“For batting, you said. But what about the other skills, like catching and fielding?”

“I honestly don’t know. I only know that he can’t learn to be part of a team without being on a team. It’s the socialization process that’s hard. But, most important, Elliot wants to be part of it. He’s enamored with the idea of playing ball. He says over and over that he wants to be with them, meaning the other kids.” Needing to do something, she set her glass in the sink. “That drive, that need, can take him far. He just requires more help than the average kid to get there. And perhaps success might be measured a little differently than with other children, but doesn’t he deserve that chance?”

“Are you sure you didn’t go to law school, after all?” he asked.

She didn’t appreciate the reminder, but she didn’t call him on it. “I hope that means I’ve swayed you, because he needs an impartial advocate.”

“I’ll let you know tomorrow after I’ve met him and his parents, and dug around a little more.”

When she didn’t respond, he glanced at her kitchen clock. “I’d better get going. If you can get that info and fax or email it to me before we meet, I’d appreciate it.”

She nodded, then followed him to the front door, noting how he’d taken one last glance at the yearbook, in the same way she had with his trophy case in his office. He was holding back, just as she was, she realized. There were things that needed saying, and at some point they would have to be said.

But first things first. Elliot was more important than long-buried emotions. It wasn’t like her to hold so much inside, but it was necessary this time.

She held the front door open as Rafe stepped outside. One safety light stayed spotlighted on the pool all night, even though a decorative metal fence prevented anyone from accidentally falling in.

“Did you get the material I left with your dad?” she asked.

“I’ve already watched the DVD several times. I wish it was more definitive.” He turned to face her. She was unable to read his expression. “Good night, Melina.”

Her throat closed. The way her porch light spilled onto him took her back to all the times they’d kissed good-night by her front door. She hadn’t known disappointment then—or loss. She’d come to hate him since then for that.

And yet she wanted to haul him upstairs and make love with him.

She’d heard it said that there was a fine line between love and hate. Walking that tightrope between those two emotions was too risky, especially without a net.

“Good night,” she said, then shut the door, burdened with doubt that she could work with him, but knowing she had no choice.

For Elliot’s sake she had to put her personal feelings aside for now.

For her sake she needed to lock those feelings away forever.