by Unknown
Rafael waited until the man withdrew and Helen said grace before pulling out his wallet and placing a twenty and a ten on the table. He didn’t want the Greek salad. “I won’t be staying.”
Nathalyia shared a look with Helen, then she picked up her spoon and took a bite of her crawfish bisque. “So, what you just said was all talk?”
Rafael had started to rise but sat back down. “I meant every word.”
Nathalyia placed her spoon on the plate beneath her bowl and met his direct gaze. “My doctor’s appointment is at one. I’d like you to come if possible.”
The heavy weight compressing his chest lifted. “Thank you. I’d like nothing better.”
Nathalyia filled out the patient information forms at the doctor’s office with Rafael looking over her shoulder. He’d been that way since she had paused over the baby’s father’s information. He’d taken the clipboard from her and written in his name before giving it back to her. He was letting her know that he was accepting his parentage.
She just hoped and prayed that Helen was right, that he loved her, and that she was making the right decision in letting him be a part of this. Being near him and not being able to touch him, to tell him her fears, her love for him, was a delicate balancing act. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep up the cool façade.
She’d allowed him to drive her, but Helen had come with them. She’d kept the conversation going so Nathalyia hadn’t felt so tense. She wished she didn’t feel that way now. Helen sat on the other side of Nathalyia, flipping through a magazine.
“Mrs. Fontaine.”
Nathalyia glanced up and came to her feet. “Yes.”
“The doctor will see you now.”
Her damp hands gripped the clipboard. Her body trembled.
A strong arm circled her waist. “Is it all right if I walk back with her?” Rafael asked.
The sandy-haired nurse in a light blue smock smiled in understanding. “Yes. The doctor will see you first and then do the exam.”
With Rafael’s assistance, Nathalyia followed the nurse to the doctor’s office. The first thing she noticed was all the degrees on the wall. A tall, thin attractive woman with short black hair in her midforties entered behind them. She wore a white lab coat and a smile.
“I’m Dr. Waters, Mrs. Fontaine,” she greeted, extending her hand to Nathalyia and taking the clipboard.
“Rafael Dunlap, the baby’s father.”
Nathalyia’s head snapped around at the possessive sound in Raphael’s voice.
“Mr. Dunlap. I sort of figured that out.” Still smiling, she waved them to matching Queen Anne chairs in front of her cheery writing desk, then took her seat. “I want to go over a few things with you and then do an exam. I’ll tell you up front that I’m a stickler for my patients getting exercise, plenty of rest, and eating properly.”
“I own and run a restaurant,” Nathalyia told her. “Food and exercise won’t be a problem.”
“I know. I’ve eaten there. You probably work long hours. Am I right?” Dr. Waters asked.
“Yes,” Rafael answered. “She’s there by ten and is one of the last to leave at closing.”
Nathalyia glared at him. “She was asking me.”
“Would your answer be the same?”
There was only one answer. “Yes.”
“I thought so.” Dr. Waters placed her clasped hands on top of the forms Nathalyia had filled out. “Your reputation for high standards precedes you. Before too much longer your body and your baby won’t let you keep up that hectic schedule. It’s best that you work toward a compromise now rather than taking a chance on damaging your health or the baby’s.”
“I’d never hurt our baby,” Nathalyia said, her arm curving possessively around her waist. Unconsciously she edged closer to Rafael’s solid warmth.
“Not intentionally, but I can say, after years of practice, I’ve seen women try to maintain the same all-out frantic pace they had before they were pregnant, and the results weren’t good.”
“What—what happened?” Nathalyia asked.
“Since it’s not going to happen to you or the baby, it doesn’t matter,” Rafael said.
Nathalyia felt his arm tighten a fraction. He was just as concerned as she was. “Please tell me.”
“It has varied from threatening to deliver prematurely and being put on restrictive bed rest to actually miscarrying or resenting the baby,” Dr. Waters answered frankly. “Be prepared for your life to change, but I hope you’ll see it in a good way.”
Nathalyia didn’t know what to say. She wanted the baby. She wanted to run the restaurant the way Martin had taught her—hands-on. She didn’t want to choose.
. . .
On the way back to the restaurant, Helen’s talking hadn’t helped ease the tension in the car. Nathalyia knew Rafael was thinking about what Dr. Waters had said, and her silence afterward. He probably thought she would make a terrible mother.
Her hands gripped her purse. Maybe he was right.
He turned into the parking lot and stopped by Helen’s car, which was parked near the front. Nathalyia opened her door.
“Nat, wait,” he called, grabbing her arm.
She didn’t want to look at him. She didn’t know how she’d go on if there was censure in his eyes when she prayed to see love. “Please.”
His fingers uncurled. “We’ll work though this somehow.”
Shaking her head, she got out of the car and headed inside the restaurant. She didn’t want to see anyone. She hurried to her office.
A few steps away, she heard her name. She kept going. Inside her office, she closed the door and leaned back against it. Martin had entrusted Fontaine to her. He’d always been very hands-on, and never missed a day until he became ill. She’d tried her best to have the same practice and high work ethic. She couldn’t let him down, but neither could she endanger her baby.
A knock sounded on the door. Her first instinct was to ignore whoever it was. She straightened, wiped the tears from her lashes instead. She’d find a way. She stepped away from the door. “Come in.”
Rafael came inside. “Just listen if you don’t want to talk. I know you’re scared. You want to take care of the baby, but you feel torn. In a way, Fontaine is your baby as well. You worked hard to ensure the success of Fontaine and you’re afraid if you’re not here, things won’t get done.”
He stepped closer and gently closed his hands around her arms. “I don’t know squat about running a restaurant, but I can learn, and on my days off and after work I can come in and help out. I can get you a longer sofa so you can stretch out and rest. Together we can make this work out so you don’t have to choose.”
Her lips trembling, she went into his arms and held tight. “I thought—”
He held her closer. “That I wouldn’t understand?”
She nodded.
He kissed her hair. “Fontaine is as much a part of you as my being on the force is part of me. The difference is that you haven’t learned to completely rely on your team. I couldn’t survive if I didn’t.”
Her head lifted. “I had a dream that I was holding our baby and we had no place to go. You wouldn’t help us.”
His hands speared though her hair, tilting her face upward toward his. “That will never happen. As long as there is breath in my body, I’ll be here for you and our baby.”
“I want to believe you,” she whispered.
His eyes shut briefly. “You will.” He gently brushed his lips across hers. “I’ll be back at closing. Lock the door when I leave, and prop your feet up.” He kissed her again.
She caught him by the arm before he turned away. “I’m almost seven weeks. It must have happened the first time we were together.”
He pulled her to him, held her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. “You’re going to make a great mother.”
I hope so, she thought, then stepped back. “I have a restaurant to run.”
“I’ll see you later.�
�
When the door closed, Nathalyia went to her desk and sat down. Rafael was right about one thing. Fontaine was not only a source of pride, but also her income. The restaurant might be paid for, but the expenses to keep it running were enormous. The house had a hefty mortgage. Her dream that she and her baby were homeless wasn’t too far-fetched.
She studied the accolades, honors, and awards on the walls that Martin and she had received for community service and for the restaurant. She’d come from nothing. They’d validated her worth when she had been looking for a place to belong. She’d been so proud of her accomplishments. She’d achieved more than she had ever imagined. There was only one decision she could make.
There was a quick rap on the door, then Theresa barged in. “I just saw that cop. He walked out of here as if he owned the place. I hope you weren’t stupid enough to take him back.”
“My life. My decision.”
Theresa’s eyes hardened. “He’s just after your money.”
Nathalyia tilted her head to one side. She didn’t for a second think Theresa cared about her. It hit her. “You’re jealous.”
Her sister jerked back. “I’m just trying to keep you from making mistakes like I did.”
“I won’t.” Her sister had always been happiest when Nathalyia was miserable. She bent to put her handbag away. “Please close the door on your way out.”
Nathalyia expected the door to slam and wasn’t disappointed. Perhaps it was time that Theresa moved on. The confrontation wouldn’t be pretty. It couldn’t be helped. She wasn’t working out. Nathalyia would just have to face the fallout. No matter what, Fontaine always came first.
Nathalyia picked up the time sheets just as someone knocked on her door. “Come in.”
The door opened and Jake slowly came in. She’d never seen him look so downcast. She came from around her desk. “Clarice?”
He swallowed, rubbed the back of his neck. “I love her.”
Nathalyia’s heart went out to him. “Then tell her.”
His blue eyes were haunted. “She’s all I want. But . . . but . . .” He looked away. “I’m afraid if I tell her everything, I’ll lose her.”
Nathalyia touched his arm gently. “You only have to look at the mess I created to realize that telling the truth is your only option. Clarice cares about you. Don’t let lies destroy that love.”
“My wife was never faithful to me even before this.” His finger jabbed in the direction of his scar.
Nathalyia’s eyes flared. “You’re not being fair to Clarice to compare her to your ex. Some people can’t be faithful, but for others it’s the only way.”
“Dunlap?”
“If we can work through this, I’ll never worry about another woman,” she said, praying she’d have that opportunity. “He’s an honorable man.”
Jake’s mouth tightened. “I’ll reserve judgment on that.”
“I love him, Jake. I caused this situation, but he’s trying,” she told him. “Love, I’m finding, isn’t always so easy to grab when the opportunity presents itself.”
“I want her in my life forever,” he said, his voice strained.
“Then tell her. Let love, not fear, guide you.”
He stared at Nathalyia for a long time, then hugged her for the first time since she’d lost Martin.
“Martin couldn’t have picked better to entrust Fontaine with.” He stepped back. “I’d better get back to the bar.”
Nathalyia watched him go and wished he and Clarice luck. They both deserved happiness. She wouldn’t give up hope that she and Rafael would find their way as well.
Rafael walked along the beach behind his home as the sun slowly descended. Hands in the pockets of his jeans, he stopped and stared out as the waves crashed against the shoreline and receded. He thought of his parents doing the same thing. They were always in each other’s corner. Their love had been unshakable and undeniable. Anyone who saw them knew it instantly.
“I thought I’d find you out here.”
“She’s scared, and I can’t help her.”
Helen touched his arm. “You’re dealing with a lot yourself.”
Rafael blew out a breath. “I’m so mixed up. In my head I know I need to push her away, but it tears me up inside just thinking about not being there for her. I don’t want her hurt.”
“Look deep into your heart and you’ll find the answer,” Helen said. “Your brothers love just as deeply as your father did. Love carries risks, but the rewards are far greater. Despite Barron being wounded and his wife almost losing him, she wouldn’t hesitate to marry him all over again. Neither would I hesitate to marry Sam. Maureen would say the same thing about Simon. Celeste is counting the days.”
He blew out a breath. “I know. It’s just . . .”
“You remember the pain of losing the one you love,” Helen said. “You saw what the misery of losing your father did to your mother, but you’ve forgotten the deep love they shared.”
“Sometimes she’d cry in her sleep,” he said, his voice strained. “No matter what I said, I couldn’t make it better for her.”
“And because you loved her, you felt as if you failed her and your father,” Helen said softly.
“Dad told me to take care of her, and I didn’t.” A muscle leaped in his jaw.
“Rafael.” Helen stepped in front of him and took both of his arms. “There was nothing you could have done to change things. Your mother died of a broken heart. She simply gave up, but she loved you and knew you had your brothers to watch over you.”
“I wanted her.”
“Yes, you did, and it hurt you deeply when she slipped away from us. From that day on you changed,” Helen told him.
He shrugged his shoulders. “I was about to go into the police academy. I knew then that I didn’t want to leave a wife and kids behind.”
“You were also afraid to love someone and have her leave you. Nathalyia has to face her fears, but so do you.”
“I already told you you’re wrong.”
“Search your heart and you’ll see that I’m right. But I wouldn’t wait too long,” Helen warned.
“What does that mean?”
“Nathalyia is a beautiful, successful, caring woman. Her pregnancy is not going to deter a man from wanting her,” Helen pointed out. “How will you feel if another man is there to care for her, love her, and take care of your child?”
Rage swept through him. “No other man is going to do that.”
“I hope not, Rafael. It would be tragic if you discovered you loved Nathalyia and wanted your family and it was too late,” Helen said.
“No man is taking my family,” Rafael told her fiercely.
Helen touched his stiff shoulder. “For all of your sakes, I hope you’re right. Goodbye, Rafael.”
Rafael watched his sister-in-law walk slowly back to the house on the wooden walkway. He wasn’t afraid to love, and no man was taking his family.
But all Rafael had to do was think of Patrick, who would fight the devil for his family, to know that, at least in this, Helen was right.
Rafael recalled the tears in Nathalyia’s eyes. She didn’t believe he’d be there for her and their baby. Her lack of trust in him stung his pride and wounded his heart.
Hands in his pockets, he started back to the house. Maybe a drive would clear his head. Grabbing the car keys, he got into the Mustang. Helen was wrong about him being afraid to love. But what if she was right?
He had no idea where he’d end up until he saw the entrance to the cemetery where his parents were buried. After all this time he still felt a catch in his throat, a tender ache in his heart.
After parking his car, he got out and walked to the rose marble headstone. Just beyond it water ran down a stream in front of a small white chapel. Rafael sat down at the foot of the grave site and crossed his legs.
“I let you down.” He didn’t know if he was talking to his father about not taking care of his mother, or to his mother for not helping her g
et over losing his father, or to both of them for his getting Nathalyia pregnant.
“You were always so proud of me. I don’t know if you would be now.” He scrubbed a hand across his chest because it felt tight. “That’s a lie. Dad, you’d blister my ears, and, Mama, you’d be ready to let me have it, too.”
He hung his head. “Helen thinks—” His head lifted and he glanced away. “She’s wrong. I’m not—” He swallowed the lump in his throat, swallowed again.
He stared at the inscription on the marble: forever united in love. He tried to push the words down, but they burst free. “Mama, why did you have to go? Losing Dad was hard enough.”
His fists clenched. His chest heaved. “Watching you grieve, come out here to see Dad every day, made me feel helpless. And angry and ashamed.”
He swiped his hand across his face, felt the wetness and pulled his handkerchief from the pocket of his jeans to wipe his nose. He thought of all the handkerchiefs his mother had ironed for her “men” and all the hundreds of other things she’d done for her family and not once had he ever heard her complain.
“You always took such good care of us. I wanted to take care of you.”
Just like he wanted to take care of Nathalyia. “I can’t fail her. I can’t.” The notion of failing tied him in knots. “Mama. Dad. Nathalyia is the best there is. She’s as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside. You would have loved her.
“She’s terrible at most sports, but she’s not afraid to try. Can you believe she doesn’t know how to play dominoes? But she can cook. She helps children with life-threatening illnesses. They love her and she loves them back. Her friend Clarice says Nathalyia put the children before Fontaine, her restaurant, which always comes first.”
The last words had no more than passed his mouth when he recalled all the times Nathalyia had left Fontaine to be with him. She was a wealthy woman, but she had shared a corn dog for breakfast with a smile. She’d rushed to the hospital when he’d been injured and stayed with him despite her fear because she thought he needed her. She’d brought him food and saw that he took his medicine.
