by Fiona Lowe
Five minutes after extricating April’s arm, he handed her out to the waiting medics, the metal bar still holding its place in her belly, then crawled out himself and collapsed on the ground, grateful to inhale unobstructed breaths, grateful for all the open space around him.
“You OK?” Edie asked, plopping down beside him. For a moment they were two people lying flat on the ground, staring up at the night sky, while the rest of the medical emergency whirled on around them. The only two people.
“Fine,” he said. “You?”
“What we did in there, Rafe … I can’t even …”
“No words to describe it?”
“No words.”
But actions spoke louder than words as he reached across and took hold of Edie’s hand, then simply held it for the next minute or two. Or for an eternity. It all seemed the same right then. And it all seemed very good.
CHAPTER SEVEN
OK, IT WAS only a kiss. Well, maybe a little more than a kiss. Or something on the way to becoming a whole lot more. He’d kissed plenty of women in his time, no big deal. But two days after the bus accident, two grueling days of taking care of a sick little girl who didn’t want to stay in bed or follow doctor’s orders, and that kiss was still on his mind. That made it a big deal, didn’t it?
The heck of it was he didn’t know why. Or maybe he didn’t want to dig deeply enough to find out why. Either way, he was grateful for the routine his life had settled into in the interim. Take care of Molly, rest, take care of Molly. For someone sick, she sure had a lot of energy. Even though Edie had warned him, he hadn’t expected it, didn’t know what to do with it and, in so many profound ways, it scared him. This child needed so much, and in ways he couldn’t even begin to fathom.
In his defense, amidst his obvious lack of parenting skills, he hadn’t run short of patience yet. That surprised him. But some of that had to do with Edie, who stopped by before work every day, and had spent the evenings there after her workday had ended. She’d cooked, read to Molly, played games. It was a sight to behold, a glimpse of life he’d never before seen. Family life at its best. Which simply reaffirmed to him who needed to be a family. At times, though, when he caught himself observing that family life too closely, his realization turned to cold chills. Could this be what he really wanted?
Reality always slammed back. This wasn’t his life. Couldn’t be. He wasn’t going to let himself buy in to some ridiculous delusion that he could ever have it, because that wasn’t meant to be the case. He was his father’s son, after all. Corbett blood at its very worst. No getting around it. “French toast?” he asked Edie. “Is that what you’re fixing?”
“Molly requested it, along with fresh strawberries.”
“Do you think she might be taking advantage of this situation? I know she’s been sick, but that doesn’t necessarily mean she should be wrapping you round her little finger.”
“And if she is, does it matter?” Edie arranged the strips of toast on a plate, then put the plate on a serving tray. “We all need to be indulged sometimes, Rafe. Too bad most of us only get it in some kind of a crisis. And as far as being wrapped round her little finger, I don’t think that’s really possible if you enjoy what you’re doing for someone.”
“Well, I’m not sure being overly indulgent is the best thing to do. Most of us never get it at all. But then the other side of that coin is who really needs it? It spoils us for something we can’t have all the time. Or in some cases won’t have ever again. Why put yourself through that emotional mess”
“Emotional mess? How do you consider that being indulged a little leads to an emotional mess?”
“Because being indulged leads to expectations, most of which can’t ever be met. At least not on practical or consistent terms. So call it pragmatism if you want. Or pessimism. Either way, the result is the same. I mean, what’s the definition of indulgence anyway? To take unrestrained pleasure in? To gratify? If you want it, do it. It’s just that easy. Well, guess what? You don’t have to depend on someone else to do it for you. In fact, why bother? They may not meet your expectations or needs, so just go and indulge yourself.”
“Sounds like someone needs some indulging himself,” Edie responded. “Did you get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?”
“What I need is my life back. Not this pseudo-domesticity.” Because the closer he came to domestic, the more he wanted it. And the more he wanted it, the more he knew he couldn’t have it. Which was why he was grumpy this morning, the side of the bed on which he’d woken up notwithstanding. Seeing Edie in the kitchen, fixing breakfast for Molly, seeming so happy in that place … all he wanted to do was shove his fist through the wall. Which proved that his old man could get through any time, any place. With so little provocation, too. “I need to find Molly a family then go home and get back to doing what I do best. It’s as simple as that.”
“Is it really that simple, Rafe? Giving up a child seems anything but simple to me. In fact, I think it’ll be the hardest thing you’ll ever have to do … if you really intend to go through with it.”
“Oh, I intend to.” He drew in a deep, steadying breath in the hope of warding off some of the agitation that seemed to be filling him up. “And, Edie? Just so you’ll know, what’s simple is the desire. The rest of it is getting pretty damned complicated.”
“Then uncomplicate it. Adopt her.”
“Well, isn’t that just a wealth of insightful advice. Adopt her and do what? Tell me, Edie. What, exactly, should I do with Molly once I adopt her? I won’t have time for her. So maybe I can shuffle her off to boarding school. And I don’t have experience with children. So maybe I can hire her a full-time nanny, governess, tutor or whatever other kinds of child-care specialists money can buy to raise her the right way. Are either of those acceptable solutions? Because they’re all I have. And just so you’ll notice, neither one of those come with a full investment of me, because I’m really not adding much of myself to the deal.” Damn, he didn’t mean to snap at her, didn’t mean to be so grumpy. And he certainly wouldn’t do any of the things he’d just said. But he couldn’t get Edie to see the situation for what it was. And right now, existing so close to everything he truly wanted yet wasn’t able to have was taking its toll on him. Two days of playing father had made him realize he wanted it probably more than anything he’d ever wanted. But two days had also reminded him why he had to back away. And fast.
“I was right. You do need some indulging.”
He’d expected another fight from her, but got sympathy instead. He wasn’t sure what to do with that. Wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. “Look, I’m sorry for snapping. I’m sorry for being so disagreeable. But this whole domestic thing … it’s not working for me.”
“Or it’s working too well. Have you ever considered that?”
He stared at her for a moment, amazed by the insight and annoyed by it at the same time. To have someone read him the way Edie did made him feel so vulnerable he was almost shaking. He wasn’t going to be vulnerable, not to anyone, for any reason. That was the way it was, the way it had to be. “Look, you need to get to work. How about I take this tray up to Molly so you won’t be late?”
“You really work hard at keeping people at arm’s length, don’t you?” She handed him the tray. “I don’t think it comes naturally to you, Rafe. I think you want to let people in, but once they get close, you get scared.”
“So, with French toast I get psychoanalysis, whether or not I want it?”
“Point taken. It’s none of my business.”
She was right, though. He did keep people at a distance. Even people he wanted to let in, like her. “Look, Edie. I really appreciate all the help you’ve been with Molly these past couple of days, and I’m sorry about my rotten attitude. It gets away from me sometimes.”
“It’s not as rotten as you think, Rafe. More like, it’s honest. I don’t necessarily agree with you, pretty much in most things that concern Molly, even in some of the
things you think about yourself. But we’re all welcome to our opinions, aren’t we? No matter how right or wrong they may be.”
He chuckled. “And that implies that my attitude is wrong?”
She tossed him a cheery smile. “It implies whatever you want to make of it. Now, go and take care of Molly.”
She’d shooed him out the kitchen door before he could respond in a semi-intelligent way, but there was something about being around Edie that caught him off guard more than he wanted to be. And by the time Molly had eaten as much of her breakfast as she cared to, Edie appeared upstairs with another tray bearing a plate of French toast and a bowl of strawberries. “Rafey needs someone to indulge him,” she said to Molly, who was already involved in a video game.
Molly looked up at him. “Do you?” she asked, as if she totally understood what that meant.
“What I need has nothing to do with being indulged,” he said, “and as you get older, and have more experience in life, you’ll understand how meaningless it is. The indulgence lasts a minute, maybe two, then you’re right back where you started, with a couple of minutes you’ll never be able to get back again. And a longing that may never be satisfied.”
“But it has French toast with it,” Molly argued. “And Edie makes the best French toast ever!”
Something in Molly’s simplicity struck a chord with him. Or made his position seem awfully rigid. “So, do you think I ought to go indulge myself?” he asked.
Molly nodded. “But only if you like French toast.”
In a way, it made perfect sense to him. And as he crossed the room to take the tray from Edie, she shook her head.
“Not here. This morning you get breakfast in bed. The ultimate of all indulgences.”
“Why?” he asked, clearly puzzled by the attention.
“Because you never have. Because it’s time.”
She was right. He’d never had breakfast in bed. There was no reason to when a quick cup of coffee and a muffin from one of the hordes of coffee shops would suffice. “Why is it time?” he asked, intrigued.
“When I was young, I loved making breakfast and serving it in bed to my mother. Especially when she wasn’t sick. I think it made her feel like she was special, like she really mattered. Like she wasn’t a burden to me. And it always seemed to bring us a little closer. Taking care of other people does that, Rafe. It’s who I am. So, which bedroom is yours?”
“You’re serious about this?”
“I sliced every one of these strawberries myself. That makes me pretty darned serious, don’t you think?”
Serious, and sexy, and more frightening than he’d bargained for. Because, for the first time in his life, he wanted that breakfast in bed, wanted to be indulged. Maybe because he knew it was a genuine, generous offer and not one that could come back to bite him in some unknown way.
Leading Edie to the bedroom he was using, he stopped short of the door and turned to face her. “My father would offer a cookie, or a candy bar, or some other thing that a little boy would truly want, then he’d tell me to come and take it from his hand. ‘Come on, Rafe. You can do it. Just take this cookie.’ Sometimes he’d give it to me, and sometimes he’d hit me. The hell of it was, I never could tell what he was going to do. After so many years of his abuse, you’d have thought I could figure it out, but …”
“But you were always that little boy who hoped his dad would hand him the cookie and never hit him again. I’m so sorry …”
He shook his head. “It made me stronger.”
“And less trusting.”
“But don’t you have a motive with this French toast?
Be nice to me, indulge me a little, and maybe weaken my position on what I’m going to do with Molly? You may not slap me, Edie, but what’s the difference?”
“The difference is, sometimes a nice gesture is just that … a nice gesture. I’m sorry you got slapped, Rafe, but I wasn’t the one who slapped you.” She shoved the tray at him. “I think maybe I shouldn’t come back any more. When Molly’s allowed out of the house, I’d like to spend some time with her. Not like this, though.” She turned, and walked out the door. In the hall, however, she stopped, and turned back to face him. “Sometimes French toast is just French toast, Rafe. And yours is cold now.” Then, spinning on her heel, she marched away.
It hadn’t been a good parting and, truthfully, she missed him. Missed Molly, too. But she’d stepped over the line. Gotten involved where she shouldn’t have, and now she had to live with the outcome. Meaning she’d let Grace down in a huge way. She should have stayed detached, shouldn’t have kissed him, or made him that silly French toast. But she had, and that was that. No going back. Rafe was going to do what he wanted and she was no longer involved with any of it. Or with him. In fact, this morning, when she’d mustered the courage to call him, he hadn’t even bothered answering. Or returning a call later on. And now, at the end of the day, she was no longer jumping on each and every incoming call, hoping it was him.
“Why the glum expression?” Rick asked, in passing. “Your day’s over. I’d think you’d be happy to leave here.”
“Just reflecting on all the mistakes I’ve made in my life.”
He chuckled. “Well, after you’ve reflected on yours, if you need a few more to work out, come see me. I’ve got a pretty long list, topped by a couple of whoppers.”
“The thing is, when you’re involved in the act that ultimately turns out to be a mistake, you can’t see that it’s a mistake. You go into it clear-headed, plunge all the way through it, and it’s only when you come out on the other end that you realize what you’ve done. Good intentions aside, wouldn’t it be smarter if people didn’t get so involved in things that didn’t concern them?”
“Smarter, maybe. But wouldn’t it be a dull life if we didn’t get involved, from time to time, where we shouldn’t? It’s a growing experience, Edie. Sometimes good growth, sometimes difficult growth.”
“Well, maybe I’m not in the growing mood.”
“Then you should stay locked in your office. Text or email only when necessary and, for heaven’s sake, don’t answer your phone.”
In spite of her bad mood, she laughed. He was right, of course. “Look, I didn’t mean to dump my problems on you.”
“In case you didn’t notice, I was the one who commented on your glum expression. You know, getting involved in a place I probably don’t belong. But on the off chance that I might be able to help you work out this mistake you think you’ve made, can I?”
“Maybe the better question is, can I?” Could she simply walk up to Rafe’s door, tell him she would back off? Tell him that Molly was his decision and she was no longer going to interfere?
“Well, whatever you do, tell Rafe to call me. I need to finish up some paperwork about his involvement in the rescue the other day, and get him to sign off on it. But he’s not answering his phone.” “Not for you, either?”
“Rafe … he’s the big mistake you’re talking about, isn’t he?”
“What makes you think that? We’re barely friends. I hardly know him.” Even as she said the words, she felt the blush creeping to her cheeks.
“And you wear your heart on your sleeve, Edie. That’s what makes you so good with the kids. You care, they see it, they feel it. There’s nothing hidden. Which goes for Rafe, too. Nothing hidden.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“Or maybe it’s not what you think. Look, at the risk of getting involved in a place I shouldn’t, let me just tell you one thing. Years ago I took my shot at it. The timing was bad, my self-esteem shot all to hell, and I went in a direction I later regretted for more reasons than I’ve got time to tell you about. But out of that confusion, out of that bad place in my life and all the mistakes I was making, I got my son, and he’s my constant reminder that there’s nothing that can’t be fixed if we want to fix it. Rafe and I … we’ve had problems in the past. Rafe came to me, apologized, and I was the one who wasn’t ready to deal w
ith it, wasn’t ready to let those mistakes … his and mine … pass. Yet when I go home at night, and see Christopher.” He smiled, shook his head. “The best things in life can happen when you’re least expecting them. Even in the midst of what you think is the worst mistake you’ve ever made. Like I said, you wear your heart on your sleeve. That’s not a mistake, Edie. So, tell him to give me a buzz when he has time.” “He’s not easy, Rick.”
“Want to see the scar on my shin to prove it?” he asked. “Of course, if you ever notice a little nick on his right shoulder.” He grinned. “In the meantime, I’ve got a pizza date with a very demanding little guy who rocks my world. No mistake, Edie. In the whole scheme of the universe, definitely no mistake.”
So maybe it wouldn’t be a mistake, dropping by to see Rafe and Molly. That was the resolve that got her all the way up to the driveway. But the rest of the way, from the road to the door, after her resolve had dissolved, she doubted herself in every way she possibly could. She didn’t want involvement, yet she did. She craved it while she pushed it away. Denied it while she dreamt of it. One way or another, she had to get her head straight. Get him totally out of it, or find a way to deal with how he was totally in it. She didn’t know which, didn’t want to know why she didn’t want to know. It was all too confusing. And the plan had been so simple. Show Rafe that he could be Molly’s father.
Well, in that, she’d failed. If anything, her insistence had caused more of a gap between them, pushed Rafe even further away from Molly than he had been before. Now it was time to see if she could fix it. Yet, as she rang the doorbell then stood there chewing away nervously on her bottom lip, waiting to be let in, she didn’t have a clue in this world how she was going to accomplish that.
Step one foot inside, she told herself. Then take another step after that. And another, and another. That was all her brain would allow and she hoped against hope that her brain would come up with the second part of the plan once the first part was under way. Otherwise she’d be adding another mistake to her list, but with no good outcome in sight.
