Rafe: Heroes at Heart

by Maryann Jordan

  “You new ‘round here?” she asked, her eager face turned up toward his.

  “Working for now at the Bellamy place,” he murmured, wondering if she was old enough to drive, much less flirt with a man his age.

  Her gasp drew his attention back to her face, lifting his eyebrow in surprise.

  Wide-eyed, she shook her head while leaning in, whispering loudly, “You work for the witch?”

  Unsure he heard her correctly, he stammered, “The…the what did you say?”

  “She’s a witch…everyone says so. Her family’s all dead. The kids at school say she put a hex on them.” Shaking her head derisively, she added, “You better watch out. They say she’s scary ugly—”

  “And I think you would do well to tend to your customers and stop repeating malicious gossip,” he growled in response.

  A man wearing a manager’s badge walked over, his disapproving gaze lifting to Rafe. “Is there a problem here?”

  “Maybe you should teach your employees to have respect for their customers,” he bit out. “I believe Ms. Bellamy orders her groceries from here. Perhaps she needs to find a new place to do business.”

  Now the manager stared wide-eyed at him before swinging his gaze to the young cashier. “Carly, get in the back and work on the stock.” Turning back to Rafe, he rushed to say, “Please accept my apologies, sir.”

  Nodding curtly, he strode from the store. As he placed the groceries in the passenger seat of his truck, he heard steps behind him and turned quickly.

  The manager had followed, saying once more, “I am sorry about that. The teenagers let their imaginations and their mouths run wild.”

  “Why do they talk about her like that?”

  Shrugging, the man said, “I’ve only been at this store for less than a year. When I first started, Ms. Bellamy’s weekly delivery order had already been set up. She just orders online. I’ve never met her, but…” he shrugged, “talk in town is that she had been away and since she’s come back, she’s lived in seclusion. She doesn’t have any family left. I suppose that gets tongues to wagging.” With that, he nodded toward Rafe and hurried back inside.

  His good mood now blown away, he climbed into his truck, his mind on the woman inside the stone castle. It was nice to spend his days working in her yard with no added agenda from her. Miss Bellamy just needs my skills to care for her property…no other expectations. He had been simply thinking of her as an older woman, perhaps shut-in due to her age, but now he wondered if there was not a physical ailment as well. Then why the hell doesn’t she have household help?

  Brooding as he drove back to her place, he flipped on the radio to a country station and found he looked forward to returning to his cottage at the edge of the woods.

  Spying out the small window by the door, Eleanor saw that the small table by the door now contained a bag with a note attached. Curious, she stepped outside, glancing around first. Stepping into the sunshine, she picked up the bag, finding it heavier than she expected. Peeking inside, she spied a platter of cookies as well as fruit. Unable to keep the smile from her face, she walked back inside, opening the note after placing the bag on the kitchen counter.

  Ms. Bellamy, it was an honor to run the errand for you. Mr. Thomas sends his regards. I hope you enjoy the fruit and cookies…I couldn’t resist. In case you need me for anything, please don’t hesitate to call. Yours truly, Rafe Walker

  Rafe Walker. She had never known anyone with the name Rafe. Her eyes glanced toward the cookies and she smiled at the kind gesture. Unwrapping the plastic from the plate, she took one of the decorated sugar cookies, sinking her teeth into the sweet deliciousness. Deciding to fix a cup of tea, she let it steep before carrying it to her study. Settling at her desk, she smiled again, feeling less lonely knowing the kind gardener was out there, close by, turning the tangled lawn into its former stately beauty.

  “Marty, I told you, I’m on an extended break.” Rafe had finally answered his agent’s call after ignoring multiple calls, texts, and emails. “I’m taking the whole summer. No modeling. No plans. And no more fucking calls from you.”

  “I know, I know what you said,” the whiny voice replied, “but I just wanted to make sure to stay in contact.”

  “What the hell do you think taking a break is?”

  “Just make sure you take care of yourself, get exercise and stay healthy, so you can come back ready to go. I’m already lining up contracts for you. Great stuff, top-notch companies—”

  “You forget, Marty, my contract with you is over. My time and my body are mine again.”

  “Rafe, man, just keep your options open so that when the time off gets boring, you can come back.”

  Chuckling, he replied, “I’m getting daily exercise in the sunshine, taking care of a beautiful gothic mansion overlooking the James River. I assure you, I am not bored.”

  “Fine, fine, but just remember—”

  “No more calls,” he interrupted before disconnecting. Breathing a sigh of relief, he returned to his book.

  8

  For the next two weeks, Rafe’s days formed a pattern. He rose early, ate breakfast, and then headed to the tool shed. He had managed to shape the driveway hedge, keep the grass mowed, trimmed the dead limbs from the edge of the woods and along the drive, and had begun work on the shrubs that were next to the house facing the lawn. Azaleas, Rhododendron, Forsythia, Holly. All combined pleasantly to keep the deep green mixed with blossoms during the summer.

  In the evenings, he returned to his cottage where he ate dinner, sat outside enjoying the view of the lawn and gardens leading up to the main house, and then read from the many choices of books until sleep claimed him.

  His days were filled with fresh air and hard manual labor, and his diet was good, simple food. It had been a long time he felt so healthy…or content.

  He never noticed anyone looking through the windows, but he refused to peer inside. If Ms. Bellamy wanted her privacy, he was determined to give it to her. The housekeeper had returned a few days ago but, much to his surprise, she only came three days during the week and did not stay at night.

  Pleased that Ms. Bellamy used a smartphone, he had sent a message before going into town again, but only received a polite reply, thanking him, but informing him that she did not need anything.

  Pushing all thoughts from his head, he was determined to work on the flower beds next, hearing of a summer storm coming that evening. With tools in the wheelbarrow, he rolled it up toward the corner of the house where one of the neglected beds lay.

  Sally peered out the window she was cleaning and stared at the man on his knees at the edge of the flower garden nearest the turret. Leaning to the side to gain a better view, she lifted her eyebrows as he stood. A voice from behind caused her to jump.

  “Sally, what on earth are you staring at?”

  Whirling around, she placed her hand on her chest, crying out, “My goodness, Ms. Bellamy, you gave me a fright. And I was just looking at the lawn. It certainly has taken shape while I was gone.”

  Nodding, she replied, “Yes, it has. Mr. Walker has done a very good job. I found myself thinking the other day that it hasn’t looked this good in years.”

  Sally cocked her head to the side, a speculative look in her eye. “Have you talked with the new gardener?”

  Snorting, Ms. Bellamy asked, “Why on earth do you think I would talk to him?”

  “Well, have you met him?”

  “I don’t need to meet a man to know that he’s doing his job,” came the short reply.

  Sally grinned as she continued to prod. “Okay, well, have you at least looked out of the window at him?”

  Glaring, she said, “I have no desire for him to see me staring out of the window at him and therefore, no, I have not been peeking out at him. When he is working, I stay on the river side of the house. When it is evening and the sun has gone behind the trees, I make it to the terrace to enjoy the view.”

  Nodding slowly, Sally continued
to smile as she moved away from the window. “Well, I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised when you finally do meet him.” With that cryptic comment, she moved the vacuum cleaner into the dining room, leaving Eleanor to stand in the middle of the living room, her surprised gaze on the now-drawn curtain.

  The wind was already picking up as Rafe rolled the wheelbarrow back into the tool shed. Cleaning the shovel, rake, and spades before hanging them on the pegboard hooks, he startled as the wooden door slammed open, hitting the outside wall as a gust sent it flying. Hurrying over, he pulled the door shut and fastened it then continued to take care of his evening chores before heading back to the cabin. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the weather app once more.

  High wind gusts, heavy rain, and severe storms were still predicted to come through the area tonight and a growing storm front was moving in a few days after that. He was glad he had trimmed the dead tree limbs around the property but knew that, due to avoiding the terrace, there were possible problems there. Well, I can deal with it tomorrow if needed. Surely, she won’t mind my being there if it’s a necessity.

  Finishing quickly, he opened the tool shed door, hanging on as the wind tried to throw it back again. Pushing with considerable force, he managed to close it and get it locked. Looking over his shoulder he hustled down the hill to his cottage. Taking in the large house, dark and imposing against the clouds, it had stood the test of time and the elements this far so now should be no different.

  Noting the outside shutters were functional and not just decorative, he made his way around his abode, shutting and securing the wooden frames. The outside chair he normally sat in during his evening respite had blown over. Grabbing it on his way inside, he placed it near the table in the corner. Locking the front door, he stood with his hands on his hips, wondering if there was anything else he needed to accomplish before the storm hit. Coming up empty, he moved into the kitchen to fix dinner.

  Later, sitting in the comfortable chair by the fireplace, the floor lamp casting a glow over his shoulder, he read more from The Hobbit.

  “You certainly usually find something, if you look, but it is not always quite the something you were after.”

  Closing the book, he thought back to Miss Ethel’s very similar words. “You know, Rafe. Life has a way of surprising you when you least expect it.” Wondering why her words and the quote stuck in his mind, he lay the book to the side, turning out the light as he stood. Unable to peer through the shuttered windows, he moved to the door, opening it slightly, hearing the wind as it roared through the trees. Looking up the hill toward the main house, he saw no lights. Hoping Ms. Bellamy was tucked in safe and sound, he closed his door and, after bolting it securely, went to bed.

  As the wind whistled around the front corner of her room, Eleanor lay her book down, concern etched across her face. She felt safe but wondered how Mr. Walker was faring in the cottage. Climbing from the bed, she slid on a robe and walked out of her bedroom while belting the soft fabric around her waist. Opening the bedroom door across the hall, she moved to the window that faced the lawn. Peering out, she strained to see down toward the woods, but the moonless night made the world appear black.

  No lights visible must mean he’s tucked in safe and sound. Sighing, she dropped the curtain and padded back to her room, settling into bed once more. The rain beat a staccato against the window panes. Knowing sleep would not be coming for a while, she continued to read.

  Rafe woke early, immediately noting the wind had dissipated and the rain was no longer beating against the side of the cottage. Hurrying through breakfast, he threw open the door and breathed in the clean, fresh air. Water droplets clung to every leaf and limb, glistening in the morning sunlight. As he moved around the perimeter of the cottage, opening the shutters, the forest appeared to come alive. Birds fluttered about, their songs filling the air. Squirrels and chipmunks scampered through the wet leaves on the ground. At the back of the cottage, where the neat grounds and large main house were not visible, it was almost possible to believe he had entered a fairy world.

  Shaking the strange musings from his mind, he walked toward the tool shed, assessing the damage as he went. Several large limbs had blown out of trees and the lawn was littered with leaves. Coming upon the shed, he noticed a small tree had toppled over, it’s slender trunk lying across the roof.

  Mentally calculating what needed to be done first, he decided to inspect the area around the main house to start, wanting to make sure there was no damage. Walking from the back door, where nothing more than windblown leaves and small branches lay on the driveway, he made his way around the side facing the lawn. Again, blown branches were the only problem for the most part. As he turned the corner by the turret, he came upon the flagstone terrace, still in the deep shade from the tall trees.

  The patio furniture was overturned, some scattered by the wind to the corner wall overlooking the river. The shattered remnants of a glass-topped table were spread over the area. Wet leaves created a slick carpet on the stone surface. And, to his dismay, several large limbs had broken and landed on the terrace. Knowing this area needed his attention first, he walked back to the shed to gather the necessary tools.

  Still dressed in her long robe, Eleanor walked to the terrace. The night had not been kind to her as sleep was elusive, but now the sun shone through the windows and she threw open the doors, stepping outside. Gasping, she observed the storm’s wreckage. Overturned furniture, including a glass-topped table that had shattered, created a dangerous mess. Leaves covered every surface and a few large limbs, as well as smaller branches, littered the patio.

  Sighing, she walked carefully to the stone wall in the shadows of the terrace to peer over into the ravine below. The river rushed by, the waterline high.

  Hearing a noise behind her, she glanced back, startled at the sight of a large man stepping to the edge of the terrace, seemingly unaware of her presence.

  Jerking around, so that her back was to him, she felt her breath rush from her lungs fast as the river below. “You…you’re not supposed to be here.”

  “Oh, Ms. Bellamy, excuse me,” he said. His voice was deep and rich, its timbre resonating through her. He continued, “I didn’t mean to come where I wasn’t supposed to, but this area isn’t safe until I clean it up.”

  She nodded jerkily, realizing this must be Mr. Walker. She knew he was right, but was unable to make herself turn around to face him. Indecision rooted her to the spot, her heart pounding furiously.

  “Ma’am, I’ll step around the side of the turret, allowing you to enter your house in private. Once you’re safely inside, I’ll come back to clean the area. I’ll…uh…let you know when I’m finished.”

  Nodding again, she now felt foolish. He must think I’m a crazy ol’ bat. Clearing her throat, trying to regain control, she said, “Yes, please. That would be best.”

  She heard his steps retreating from the stone patio and, when she was sure he was gone, she limped toward the door, her legs strangely weak. Once inside, she closed the glass-paned terrace door behind her, drawing the heavy curtains.

  Walking forward a few feet, she stopped, her heartbeat still racing. Swallowing deeply, she hurried toward the study down the hall, far from the terrace. Slipping inside, she slid into a chair before she allowed the tears gathered in her eyes to tumble down her cheeks. Dropping her chin to her chest, she hated the impression she had made on Mr. Walker almost as much as she hated the need she felt to be alone. Life had been so different once…a long time ago. As thoughts of her former life, and the life she had planned, moved through her mind, she wondered if a life of seclusion was all she had to look forward to.

  9

  Rafe stood to the side of the house, his heart racing as much as his mind. Ms. Bellamy had stood in the shadows, her body short and slightly built, but he could have sworn her long hair was dark, not the grey or white he assumed it would be. That doesn’t matter…anyone can dye their hair. Her voice came back to him
…soft and melodious, sounding young. Her body was encased in a long, flowing robe, covering her from neck to toes. She did have a cane leaning against the wall, as her body had been bent over the masonry, her hands holding her steady.

  Wiping a hand over his face, he felt the warmth of the sun hitting his back. He gave her several minutes to make her way inside, but in truth, it took a few minutes for his legs to regain their strength after the unexpected shock of seeing his employer for the first time. Well, seeing the back of her.

  He called out, “I’m coming now. Let me know if you need more time.” Hearing no response, he cautiously peeked around the corner and, seeing the terrace empty, let out a deep sigh.

  Moving forward he began to work. Deciding to cut the large, dead, fallen limbs first, he powered up the chainsaw and sliced through the thick limbs, deftly piling them to the side of the terrace. Walking back to the shed, he started the mower, with a trailer attached, and drove it back to the house. Loading the heavy, cut limbs, he took the wood to the side of the tool shed, deciding to chop it later for firewood.

  Driving back to the house, he next picked up the smaller branches and piled them into the trailer, repeating his steps from earlier. After two hours, he finally had all the wood removed from the large patio. With a thick, long broom, he swept the leaves and glass into a pile before using a dustpan to collect the refuse. Unable to separate the glass from the leaves, he bagged the entire sweepings. Standing back, he cast a careful gaze over the surface of the terrace, going over every foot until he was certain all slivers of the glass had been removed.

  The sun, now high in the sky, had burned off the last of the water from the crevices in the stone, leaving it dry and safe to walk on. He moved to each piece of furniture, righting it and placing it around the area, uncertain of its original location.