by Miles, Ava
Oh sweet Jesus, Rhett thought, wanting to take the kid into his arms. He’d never wanted to protect anyone from the truth so badly.
Dustin faced Rhett, breathing heavily. “‘Taking advantage of’ is a nice way of saying raped, isn’t it? I’ve heard that in my English lit class. My father raped my mother, didn’t he? And that’s why she won’t marry you. She’s been upstairs resting all day, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I knew she was upset after she left the party. And I’m done with this. I don’t want her to be miserable because of me.”
Rhett couldn’t take it anymore. He yanked the kid toward him and squeezed him in a bear hug. “Your mother gets nothing but joy from you, Dustin Macalister Maven, and I’ll be damned if you’re going to think otherwise.”
The kid's arms fisted around him, and he dug his head into his chest. “But it’s true, isn’t it?”
Like a tick on a horse, the kid wouldn’t let it go. “Leave that for now.”
Dustin shoved back, the poster boy for a teenager ready to take the world on with his fists and fire. “I thought you were my friend. I thought you’d tell me!”
“I am your friend, Dustin,” he replied calmly. “I always have been, and I always will be. But I love your mother. And your uncle. I can’t betray their trust in me.”
“I’m sixteen, dammit! I’m old enough to know. I’m old enough to face the truth.”
He’d been the same way when he was Dustin’s age, thinking he was old enough for anything. Funny how wrong he’d been on some occasions, but learning to be a man was about figuring things out from personal experience. And the kid needed to be heard and comforted. This was one wound that would fester if it wasn’t properly treated.
“I know you are, son, and I’m proud of you for coming to talk to me. Now, let me take you home, and we’ll talk to your mom and Uncle Mac.”
Dustin lifted his chin and crossed his arms across his chest. “No, I’m not leaving here until I know the truth.”
Rhett studied him. The kid was dead serious, and he would never resort to dragging him out.
“Fine. They’ll come here then. But I can’t promise you what they’ll say.”
Lowering his chin an inch, Dustin said, “Okay.”
Rhett wanted to cross the room again and gather the boy up, tell him it would be fine, but that would be pointless. It wasn’t fine. And if they weren’t very careful, everything they’d built for the boy could be destroyed.
“I’m going to get my phone and call your mother, okay?” he told Dustin. Thank God, he’d left his phone on the bathroom counter.
A nod was all he received before he left the room.
When he reached his bedroom, he closed the door. Headed to the bed and sat for a minute, trying to find the inner place he went to when he was in a high–stakes game and the pressure was bone–cracking.
It wouldn’t come. He realized in that moment how different the stakes were in this situation. Rising, he found his phone and rubbed the pain in his chest as he called Abbie. Part of him prayed it would go to voicemail. After last night, he wasn’t sure she would pick up his call. If not, he would call Mac.
When she picked up, he closed his eyes.
“Hi, Rhett,” she said, her voice soft and hesitant.
His heart thundered for her, like a herd of wild mustangs racing across the prairie. “Hi,” he responded, not knowing what to say.
“I’m sorry I left…without saying anything.”
Well, this was encouraging. “Me too, but it’s not why I called.”
“Oh,” she replied, sounding deflated.
“But I’m glad to hear you’re sorry.” He took a deep breath. “Abbie, Dustin’s here.”
“He is? He said he was meeting his friend, Taylor.”
Yeah, some friend, Rhett thought. “Abbie, I don’t know how to tell you this in a way that won’t hurt you since there isn’t one, so I’m just going to say it. Dustin suspects that his father raped you.”
Her gasp was audible on the line. “But…how…I mean…God!”
“Taylor told him about the town council meeting for Mac’s hotel.” And he recounted his conversation with Dustin.
She was sniffing audibly by the end. “Oh God, no.”
He’d rather be strung up than hear her cry. “Abbie, I didn’t tell him anything, but he thinks it’s the reason you won’t marry me, and I’ve told him he’s not to blame.”
“Oh, Rhett.”
“Abbie, I think you and Mac need to come over. Dustin says he won’t leave my house until you tell him the truth.”
“But…this will break his heart.”
Like it had broken hers for over sixteen years.
“Abbie, it already has. Now we need to help it heal.”
She cried softly. He gripped his phone in a vice, wishing he could scoop her up and comfort her.
“Abbie, I’m here, and I’ll do anything I can to help. You aren’t alone.” No, he would never leave her. Any leftover bitterness from this morning had faded away. “Do you want me to call Mac?”
“No,” she said, clearing her throat. “I’ll…tell him. We’ll be over as soon as we can.”
“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll sit with Dustin until you get here.”
“I know you will, Rhett.” And then she hung up.
His arm lowered to his side, and he rested his head against the wall. He finally understood the phrase of feeling bone–bruised.
After a moment, he threw the phone onto his bed and went out to join Dustin like he’d said he would.
He was hunkered down low in the leather couch. There were tear stains on his cheek, and his nose was red.
“Your mom and Mac are on their way, son.”
He walked over and sat next to Dustin, their sides touching. When the kid leaned toward him, Rhett put his arm around him.
“I wish I was your son,” Dustin whispered.
It took a moment for Rhett to speak through the blockage in his throat. “Me too, son. Me too.”
And as the light filtered in through the windows, he held the boy and remembered how his mama always told him Christmas was a time of miracles. And even though he was rusty at it, he offered up a prayer for the boy beside him, the woman he loved, and his best friend.
When he heard a car drive up, he squeezed Dustin one last time and kissed his head like he used to do when he was a little kid, all freshly bathed, smelling of Crest toothpaste and Johnson & Johnson shampoo.
Then he rose and walked to the door.
Abbie’s face had never looked more ashen, and Mac’s was close to green. Peggy held Mac’s hand, and Mac held Abbie’s.
When they reached the front porch, he said, “He’s in the den.”
Mac nodded, kissed Peggy’s cheek, and started up the steps. Abbie wasn’t moving with him, so he stopped.
“I can’t seem to make my feet move any farther,” she said, and then punctuated the silence with a sound of pain and disbelief.
There could be no jokes today, so Rhett didn’t offer to carry her inside. Instead, he said, “Take your time.”
Her eyes flew to his, and in them, her fear shone through. “I can do this,” she said, as if to herself. She took one step. Then another. “I have to.”
And like Joan of Arc herself, she walked up those porch steps. When she passed him, she turned back and said, “Thank you for being with him, Rhett.”
He raised his chin in acknowledgement. “I’ll be in the study,” he informed them.
Peggy followed him, not Abbie and Mac. He let her precede him into his private sanctuary.
She settled onto his leather sofa and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Can I take your coat?” he asked since she hadn’t dispensed with it.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, her voice monotone.
Dare’s no–nonsense deputy sheriff was right. Who gave a fuck about pleasantries when a young man’s world had just been irrevocably altered?
So Rhett just nodded and s
at in the matching arm chair, and the two of them waited together.
It was interminable. He couldn’t take his mind off of what might be going on in the other room. Of how fragile Abbie had looked as she’d walked up his porch. How fierce she’d been making love to him last night.
How could such polar opposites exist in one woman?
He didn’t care. All he knew was that he would love her until his dying breath and beyond.
Mac finally came into the office. He walked directly to Peggy, who wrapped her arms around him. His friend lowered his face to her shoulder for a long moment and then lifted his head. He met Rhett’s gaze, but didn’t say anything.
What the hell was there to say?
The desolation was clear.
Abbie and Dustin appeared in the doorway, holding hands. Dustin gave his mother a long look, and then released her hand and crossed into the room. Rhett opened his arms, and the boy flew into them, crushing his face against his chest.
Dustin started crying, and with that sound, Rhett felt tears gather in his own eyes. He held onto the boy, wishing he could do more, wishing he could erase everything that had happened except for the precious gift of this boy’s life.
Had Abbie realized that without what had happened they wouldn’t have Dustin? Somehow a new peace entered his heart.
When he looked over at her, tears were streaming down her face. He held out his hand, and she glanced from it to his face. She took a few stumbling steps, and then she was rushing toward them. She pressed her body against Dustin’s and wrapped her arms around him, and because Rhett’s arms were long enough, he enfolded them both in his embrace.
Like his heart had already done.
Finally Dustin pushed back for air, and they shared a shaky laugh, which eased some of the tightness in his chest.
“I love you, kid,” he said, ruffling the boy’s sweat–soaked hair.
“I love you too, Uncle Rhett,” he responded and wiped his nose with his sleeve.
Abbie reached for Dustin’s other hand. “Thank you, Rhett,” she whispered, and her eyes held a thousand promises—that they would survive this, that she was strong enough, that they would heal.
He hadn’t thought he could love her any more than he did, but somehow it happened.
The smile he gave her wasn’t his most charming, he expected, but it was real. The right corner of her mouth lifted in response.
Mac stepped forward and put an arm around him, and they man–hugged before they broke apart. Then he followed Abbie and Dustin to the front door.
“Let’s go home, Mom and Uncle Mac,” the kid said.
Peggy moved toward Rhett. “You did good,” she whispered to him as she trailed after Mac.
He saw them all off, his chest feeling hollow, like he’d been suctioned to within an inch of his life.
As the car pulled away, Abbie gave him a slight wave, and like an eagle flying overhead, he felt the same sense of awe.
She loved him, and he somehow knew that what had happened today would help her break free of the past.
His holiday serenade was still on.
Chapter 12
Abbie threw Paulo Coehlo’s The Alchemist aside and fell back on her pillows. She fluffed her down comforter and smoothed the violet bedspread.
There was no point in pretending. She couldn’t read. She couldn’t sleep. She could barely eat.
It was the day before Christmas Eve, and her son finally knew the truth about his father. About how he’d come into the world.
Part of her felt like her life was over, and in some ways, the one she’d grown used to had been blown to smithereens. She felt exposed. And heartbroken for her precious son, who had done nothing to deserve such origins.
Then she had to remind herself what Mac had helped her see. She hadn’t deserved what happened either.
She reached out for the angel figurine by her bed—the one holding a star. It reminded her of that whisper from a few weeks ago. Follow the star. Christmas was about reclaiming the innocence of a child, and that’s what she wanted for both of them.
Dustin would heal with their help and some family counseling.
And so would she. Finally.
Her thoughts wandered to Rhett. He’d checked in with everyone, including her—and he always came whenever Dustin wanted him.
But they hadn’t spent any time alone since the party. Hadn’t talked about what had happened between them, why she’d run, and why she now regretted it.
Dustin had come first.
After seeing how Rhett had handled Dustin’s emotional turmoil, she finally believed he would make a good father. Correction. A great father.
Dustin loved him.
And so did she.
He’d been showing her for months how much he wanted to be there for her, from toning down his behavior to changing his poker babe act to throwing that lavish holiday party. Even writing her a romantic song. Settling down was the last thing she’d expected Rhett to do, and yet, here he was in a small town, attending Dustin’s school events, going out for pizza with them, and gluing Christmas wreaths for her.
It was time they talked about them, about the future he wanted with her.
The strands of a piano reached her ears. The music was like a faint winter breeze, all dreamy and soft. Her mind identified the song right away—Rye Crenshaw’s “The Holiday Serenade.” Cancel that. The song Rhett had written, and Rye had sung.
She frowned. Was Dustin playing the song as part of his Cupid scheme? He’d told her to stop fighting her feelings and just marry Rhett. Seeing him in so much pain, she’d almost given in then and there.
But she needed to make the decision for herself, and no one else.
And she had. Now she just needed to talk to him.
Rising to investigate, her feet padded down the hall. The music grew fainter.
Mac’s door opened. “Do you hear the music? It’s your song, right?” he asked.
“I think Dustin’s trying to play matchmaker.”
The past few days had cut deep grooves into his face. Peggy had been a big comfort to him, but this business with Dustin had hit him hard. Worse, he and Peggy had to deal with the reality that Dustin might never have found out if not for what Peggy had said at the city council meeting. Families meant forgiveness, though, so that’s what they all had done. Everyone had agreed Dustin should know at some point. Having him hear about it secondhand hadn’t been ideal, but then again, any way they told him would have been hard.
“At least it’s something to raise his spirits,” Mac said.
Dustin stepped into the hallway. “Are you playing Rhett’s song, Mom?” he asked, a spark of hope spreading across his haggard face. So he wasn’t sleeping well either.
They’d turned down the furnace for the night, so the hallway held a chill. She drew her red Christmas robe more securely around her. “You’re not playing it?”
“No,” her son said. “I was watching TV.”
“Abbie,” Mac said, his voice gentle, “it’s a song about a serenade. Maybe you should look out your window.”
The furnace kicked on, warming her feet since she was near a vent. “My window?”
“Yeah.” His smile was almost an afterthought.
“Cool,” Dustin said, crossing the hall.
The hairs rose on her neck as she made her way back to her bedroom, Dustin and Mac’s footsteps echoing on the hardwood floor behind her. If the music was outside, it could mean only one thing. She pulled back the white lace curtains. Given the fullness of the moon, she had no trouble making out the culprit and his accomplice.
Rhett stood under her window a few yards from the house, dressed in a sheepskin coat with white wool–out seams. He had a microphone in his hand. His friend, Rye, was seated on a foldout chair in a full–length black leather winter coat at what looked to be a portable piano, his black cowboy hat obscuring his face as he played the ballad of her song.
They were insane. It was freezing outside.
Rhett tipped his finger to his forehead even though he wasn’t wearing a cowboy hat like Rye. His ears had to be frozen.
“I decided to serenade you like I should have the first time. I’m sorry I upset you by making a public declaration. I was only trying to show you how I felt. Plus, I don’t sing worth spit, so having my friend do what he does best made sense. But as a wise man recently told me, never send another man to serenade your woman. So Rye’s going to play, and I’m going to sing.”
“Brace yourself,” she heard Rye say.
“Shut up,” Rhett bantered back, putting the microphone to his mouth.
Dustin edged closer to her at the window, and Mac put his hand on her shoulder, leaning forward so he could see.
While Rye played the refrain, Rhett started to sing. His voice cracked, and he missed the notes by a mile, going from baritone to alto at the wrong time. Dustin snorted, and Mac muffled a laugh, but it didn’t matter.
The words he’d written for her finally went straight to her heart.
It lets me tell you that I want you,
That you’re my Christmas dream come true,
That I don’t see anyone now but you.
When he looked up, his eyes shining in the moonlight, her toes curled into the carpet. She believed him. He didn’t see anyone but her. Didn’t want anyone but her. Didn’t love anyone but her.
She leaned against the jamb and wrapped her arms around her body as he continued to sing about how she was his Christmas dream come true.
Tears gathered in her eyes, and she could feel Dustin turn his head to look at her as she wiped them away. When her son put his arm around her, she rested her head on his still–growing shoulder.
Come cozy up by the fire with me,
Under the lights of our own Christmas tree.
As Rhett sang, she could envision the house they would share, his red stocking on the fireplace next to hers and Dustin’s; she saw him holding her on the couch as the white lights on their Douglas fir tree cast a mellow glow on them.
