by Susan Crosby
“I thought you’d left,” she said, hesitance in her voice and body language.
Was this it? His opportunity to get answers? “I wasn’t interested in flapping my wings,” he said, keeping the conversation going.
She half smiled. “I wasn’t so lucky.”
They stood about ten feet apart. “How are you, Melina?”
“I’m doing very well, thanks. And you?” Polite, cool words.
“No complaints.” He took a few steps toward her. “Thanks for the card you sent after my mom died. It meant a lot.”
Her expression changed in an instant to one of sympathy. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be at her funeral. I was on a cruise, my first vacation in years, and I didn’t hear about her passing until I got home and the funeral was over.”
“I know. I understood.”
“I admired her so much.” She reached out as if to touch him, then let her hand drop. “I felt so bad that I hadn’t stayed in touch. But I couldn’t, you know? I just couldn’t.”
He understood that, too. He wouldn’t have stayed in touch with Angie except that she hadn’t let him go. She’d written and called now and then, always hopeful there would be a reconciliation, but Rafe had cut off all other communication with the Lawrence family.
“Tommy seems like a good match for Angie,” he said, changing the subject, but also leading up to the issue—that he and Melina had been a good match once, too.
“I agree. She needs a Prince Charming like him. He’s big on romantic gestures. It was his choice to have the reception here instead of at the church. He wanted her to feel like a princess.”
“I was surprised to see how much this part of town has improved,” he said. “The only eyesore left is the old Crockett building. I’m surprised it hasn’t been razed by now.”
Melina went silent for a few seconds then eyed the reception hall. “I should get back.” Her entire mood changed, her expression, her posture, everything.
“You might want to wait a few more minutes,” he said, spotting a conga line forming.
She looked tempted but said, “I have responsibilities as maid of honor.”
Her comment took Rafe back in time—not in a good way. “And we all know how seriously you take your responsibilities.”
Her blue eyes turned icy. “And my commitments. I suffer no guilt from what I did, from the choice I made. My grandparents needed me. I acted honorably. Can you say the same?” She gathered her skirt with both hands and swept past him, leaving a trail of unfamiliar perfume and righteous indignation in her wake.
What the hell did that mean? How had he acted dishonorably? She’d dropped the ball, not him.
Rafe swiped a hand down his face. He should’ve trusted his instincts and stayed away. Or at the least left after congratulating the happy couple. This wasn’t the time or place for a serious dissection of a painful time in his and Melina’s past.
The desire to satisfy his curiosity about her had overruled his usual caution and common sense, dredging up memories that should’ve been buried long ago—for both of them. He’d thought his were expunged. He’d assumed hers were.
As a lawyer he should’ve known better than to assume anything. Ever.
Chapter Two
Sunday passed in a blur for Melina. First came a wedding breakfast with just the Lawrence and Buchanan families, then Melina and Jay, Tommy’s brother and the best man, drove the newlyweds to the San Antonio airport for their flight to Hawaii.
They all stood at the curb of the departure area, unloading luggage and saying goodbye.
“I saw you and Rafe talking,” Angie said into Melina’s ear as they hugged. “Are you going to see him again?”
“Red Rock is a small town.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Melina smiled, not giving her sister an answer—maybe because Melina didn’t know the answer herself.
“I told him about Elliot,” Angie said, her voice overly casual.
“Angie! Why would you do that? He’s our patient. You can’t—”
“I didn’t give Rafe specifics. He knows you’re an occupational therapist, and he gets the whole privacy thing. I didn’t tell him Elliot’s name or the names of any other pertinent people involved. I asked hypothetical questions because he’s a lawyer, and I thought he could help.”
Hope battled irritation at her sister for overstepping her position as Melina’s administrative assistant. “What did he say?”
“That it’s not his field of expertise.”
Melina felt her jaw drop. “That’s it? He had no opinion as a human being? As a former ballplayer? As a former little boy with big dreams?” Her voice rose with each question so that Tommy and his brother Jay turned and stared.
“I’m only telling you what happened, Melina. Geez, calm down. I didn’t ask him for his opinion or advice except as a lawyer. Don’t get mad at him. Again.”
She’d been over being mad at him—or so she thought until she’d seen him yesterday. Then a tidal wave of emotion had swamped her. She wasn’t drowning now, but she sure was being beaten up by the waves.
“Anyway, you didn’t let me finish. He said if you want to talk to him about it, you should call him.”
“When did this happen?”
“As he was telling me goodbye at the wedding. He said he’d been thinking about it.”
Could she get him involved? Melina wondered. Given their history, could she ask it of him?
“And don’t be mad at me, either, okay?” Angie said, grabbing Melina’s hands. “I wouldn’t be able to enjoy my honeymoon if I knew you were upset with me.” She batted her eyes playfully.
Melina laughed. “Right. Like that’s going to happen.”
She grinned. “I told Steph not to change one thing in the office while I’m gone. I’m the one who’s been working for you for four years, but I know our little sister. She’ll think she has a better way to organize things.”
“I won’t let her. I promise.”
“The plane will leave without us, Mrs. Buchanan,” Tommy said. “And I’m anxious to get lei’d, you know.” He winked and pretended to drop a lei around her neck, Angie’s laughter joining his to make music together. With a last hug goodbye for everyone, they ran into the terminal without a look back.
Tears stung Melina’s eyes as she watched them, madly in love and happy to show the world.
“How about we go somewhere for lunch?” Jay asked as they headed out the airport.
“No, thanks. I’m still full from breakfast.”
“How ’bout we go to your place and have ourselves a little fun?”
Tommy’s twin was twenty-two years old. He’d been coming on to Melina since they’d first been paired up for wedding events. “No, thanks.”
He eyed her. “You know, I’ve been hearing for a long time how the best man hooks up with the maid of honor at these things. You’re real pretty, Melina. I think I’m okay looking myself. So, why not go for it? Your age doesn’t matter to me, if that’s what you’re worrying about.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, I’m honored, Jay, truly I am. But the answer’s the same.” Between his comments and Stephanie’s at the wedding, Melina felt ancient. “It’s sweet of you to ask, though.”
“No harm in it,” he said, appeased.
They didn’t have much to say after that. He dropped her off at her townhouse, and she was grateful to plop onto her sofa and close her eyes, relishing the peace and quiet now that her duties were over. But soon the pull began—the memories of days gone by, the should’ves and could’ves.
She dragged out two cartons from the back of her storage closet, untouched for years. She had thrown away a lot of the things Rafe had given her—a stuffed armadillo, dried corsages and a half-used bottle of perfume she couldn’t bear to wear again—but she hadn’t been able to part with the yearbooks and scrapbooks.
Or the gold locket he’d given her after they’d made love for the first time.
Melina ignored the tiny jewel box lodged in the corner of the carton until after she’d skimmed through the books, afraid to take a deeper look. Almost every personal note in her yearbooks was a comment on her and Rafe as a couple and their future together. She’d almost forgotten how much like one they’d been. Their mutual plan to become lawyers working for the greater good had been shattered before the end of their freshman year at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor.
Michigan had been a long way from home for a couple of born-and-raised Texans, but they’d had each other—until her Grandma Rose had a stroke and Melina’s world had spun on its axis.…
All her life Melina had adored her grandma. Being clear up in Michigan while Rose had been hospitalized had been hard, but when Rose had been sent home barely able to walk or talk, it had been excruciating for Melina. She couldn’t focus on college when her beloved Rose was struggling, so when the Christmas break came, Melina used the weeks to help her grandparents, then made the decision not to return to Ann Arbor for the time being.
Rafe hadn’t understood. Melina stood her ground. And their relationship began to unravel slowly, steadily. While Melina was immersed in caring for her grandmother and comforting her suddenly vulnerable grandfather, Rafe was experiencing the new freedom of college. She’d gone the opposite direction, locking herself into the role of caregiver, giving up her freedom, not regretting it at all.
Except that she’d resented Rafe’s freedom, even though it had been her choice to help her grandparents.
And then came the letter from him, ending the relationship, securing her new role in life. She hadn’t known how to fix it, so she hadn’t tried.…
She blinked away the memory. Finally she pushed up the lid of the small gray velvet box. The locket inside didn’t contain photographs but was inscribed with the words, “We’ve only just begun.”
He’d given it to her in such a tender way, made her close her eyes and lift up her hair. She’d felt the brush of his fingertips against her neck, then his lips. Finally a kiss on her mouth, so soft, so loving, she’d cried. She’d buried the indelible moment deep, had built an impenetrable wall around it—until she’d seen him, looking handsome and successful and so very sexy.
Melina snapped the lid shut, and with it, the memories. She tossed the box into the carton and stacked the rest of the items inside. Then right before she shoved the cartons into the closet, she pulled out their senior yearbook and tucked it under her arm.
The only way she could move forward was to look back first.
The next morning Melina looked up Rafe’s business address on the internet, mapped directions, then made the drive to downtown San Antonio. His office was on the fifth floor of a building overlooking the River Walk. She had to identify herself to the lobby security personnel and get permission from Rafe’s office before she was allowed up the elevator, so the element of surprise was gone by the time she reached his office, a richly appointed, incredibly quiet space of dark woods and leather.
One of the things they’d promised each other all those years ago when they’d made the mutual decision to become lawyers was that their office wouldn’t be luxurious, that they wouldn’t have more than they needed to do the job. The building they’d picked out changed hands frequently, with long periods of vacancy between. As Rafe had noted at the reception, these days it looked ready for demolition.
It had hurt when he’d said that so easily about their one-time dream house.
Rafe’s attractive and curious assistant escorted Melina into Rafe’s office as soon as she arrived. He got up from his desk and came around it.
“Thank you, Vonda,” he said as she closed the door on her way out. “This is a surprise.”
Melina rarely got flustered, but being alone with him in his office, this tangible symbol of his success, stabbed at her. The last thing she needed was to be defensive or cool—or let her ego or pride get in the way. A little boy depended on her doing the right thing, saying the right thing.
And yet frustration built inside her, a growing need to yell at him, to say what she hadn’t been allowed to all those years ago when he’d broken up with her—by letter. She’d made so many speeches to him in her head through the years.
“Very nice,” she said, tamping down her emotions, moving around him to look out his window. She loved the River Walk, always had, no matter how many tourists roamed the area. His view was pretty but obstructed slightly by hotels and other tourist attractions.
“What can I do for you, Melina?” he asked, having come up behind her.
She moved away, not turning around to look at him until she could no longer feel the heat from his body, imagined or otherwise, radiating into her space. “Angie said you were willing to talk to me about a new patient my partner and I just took on.”
Rafe indicated a leather sofa. “I don’t know that my answer will be any different,” he said as they sat at opposite ends. “But I thought I should know more.”
“He’s a ten-year-old boy named Elliot Anderson, and he has Asperger’s syndrome.”
“You’ll need to educate me about Asperger’s.”
“It’s a form of autism spectrum disorder. They’re smart kids, and they can totally focus on something they have an interest in, but they have difficulties socially. They don’t tend to make eye contact and don’t know how to interpret expressions to understand how someone feels. It makes it hard for them to be part of a team, any kind of team, especially because they can be very direct.”
“Okay.”
The intensity of his unswerving eye contact made her stomach flutter. She wished he’d sat at his desk instead. “Elliot wants to play baseball,” she said. “His father has worked with him on hitting for several years. Apparently he’s exceptional.”
“And he’s come up against resistance from the coaches, Angie said.”
“One coach, not all of them. And ‘resistance’ is putting it mildly in this case. The Andersons moved to town after registration was closed for this season, but the league could make an exception if they wanted to, given that the family hadn’t moved in yet. Elliot and his parents showed up at a practice, hoping to talk one of the coaches into taking him on, but it didn’t go well.”
“In what way?”
“The coach was pushing the players hard, berating them, even ridiculing them. Elliot, who only knows how to comment honestly on what he observes, told the coach he was mean.”
“Kids—and parents—often think a coach is mean,” Rafe said. “Did he know about Elliot’s condition?”
“Not at that point, and if Elliot had left it at that, maybe it wouldn’t have mattered, but he added that the coach was fat. Elliot doesn’t distinguish between a compliment and an insult. He was stating what he saw was a fact.”
“What happened?”
“His father intervened. He explained privately about Elliot’s condition, and then told the coach how the only way Elliot can learn about team play is by being on a team. There aren’t any special-needs teams in town, only in San Antonio, and Elliot probably doesn’t belong on that kind of team, anyway.” She paused. “I’m gathering that Angie didn’t tell you who the coach is.”
“No, but I’m going to guess it’s Beau Bandero.”
“Yes.”
Rafe got off the couch and moved to the window, looking out as she had earlier. “He built that sports complex with his own money. He owns it.”
“He’s the king, all right.”
“Which means he sets his own rules. And he’s a bitter man. Always has been, even in the days we played together. But after his injury knocked him out of the majors, he probably got worse.” Rafe faced her. “So, what did Beau do next?”
Melina clenched her fists in her lap. “He let Elliot get up to bat, then he hit him with the first pitch.”
“Intentionally?” He looked at her in shock.
“Who knows? Another coach happened to catch it on video, but it’s impossible to know the truth. People with Asperger’
s often don’t feel pain to the same degree that others do. Elliot just stood there waiting for another pitch, like he does when his dad pitches to him. Beau chewed him out for not running to first, called him too stupid to play. Elliot told him he didn’t know that rule because no one had hit him before.”
“And that wasn’t good enough for Beau, I guess.”
“He told Elliot it was too late to join the team this year. He’d missed four practices already, and he needed more practice than the average kid.”
“The schoolyard bully grown older but un changed.”
“Elliot’s probably been called stupid before, and weird, and all sorts of other names,” Melina said. “He’s probably been bullied by kids his own age who don’t understand why he’s different. But for an adult to do it? Consciously? That’s criminal.”
Rafe leaned against the window jamb, his arms folded. He couldn’t remember being angrier at Beau—and there’d been plenty of anger in high school, even fistfights. The competition between them had been fierce, producing a natural enmity. “What’s your job in all this, Melina? How did you get involved?”
“Occupational therapists are experts in the social, emotional and physiological effects of illness and disease. We plot a different course of treatment for each patient, depending on their needs.” She crossed her legs and relaxed against the sofa. “I help stroke victims so that they can get back to living their lives. Children with autism need self-help skills. In Elliot’s case, my partner and I hit a dead end with attorneys being able to help, especially given the narrow time frame.” Her voice grew stronger, more insistent. “Elliot can’t afford to miss the practices, Rafe, and the season starts in a few weeks. He may be a great batter, but he needs to learn about teamwork.”
Silence deadened the air for a few long seconds as he weighed her words. He’d hoped she’d come to him to open up a discussion between them, to settle things, that maybe she was feeling the same as he was—still trapped in the past and all that never got said between them. But obviously she’d come to see Rafe the lawyer, not Rafe the man.
