by C J Marie
***
Olive was quiet most of the way to the rehab center. Rafe wasn’t sure what he’d said, but he didn’t like thinking he’d said something to offend her. Every time he tried to speak though, he came up empty.
Pulling into the lighted parking lot, Rafe cleared his throat and smiled as if the ride hadn’t been awkward like a nosy neighbor catching sight of a first kiss. “So, where is this place we’re going tomorrow?”
Olive met his eye once she hopped out of the truck. She tugged out her cell phone and scanned a text. “Market Steak and Seafood,” she said. “It just opened, but I guess Sawyer has connections and got us a reservation.”
“Sounds good.” And expensive.
Rafe stopped and signed both their names on the visitor sheet before handing Olive a yellow badge they were required to wear while in the facility. They walked side by side down the hallway and Rafe had the overwhelming desire to hold her hand, but Olive was in her tense position with her arms folded across her chest. Shaking his head slightly, he turned his attention to the room with his mother’s initials. Knocking once, he waited only a moment before stepping inside, Olive coming in right behind him.
Millie Whitfield was lovely and always had been. Rafe despised seeing his mother struggle at all, but she was a spitfire and refused to settle for whatever prognosis her doctors explained. Already she could walk with a cane, after she’d been told she’d always need a walker. Her smile was nearly even, and her words no longer slurred. The most obvious deficit was her left hand hanging lifeless at her side—oh, and she was a little more blunt than before.
“Rafe, boy you get on in here and give your mama a kiss,” she snickered, when she glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, what a surprise—Ollie—get in here, baby girl.”
Olive pushed past him and wrapped his mother in a bone-crushing embrace. “Millie, how you doing? I think you’re moving better every time I see you.”
Rafe watched his mom brush Olive’s auburn hair out of her face, while Olive did the same to Millie’s blonde curls. “They’re working me hard, sugar. I’m getting my money’s worth. A few more weeks and I’ll be free, at least that’s what my therapy team says.”
“Hey, mama,” Rafe said, kissing her cheek and helping her settle in the reclining chair in the corner. “You eat already?”
His mom nodded. “Yeah, I need to do it with the speech department. I keep telling them I can swallow just fine, but they don’t seem to believe me. Making me tuck my chin every bite and such nonsense.”
Rafe laughed and Olive patted Millie’s knee. “Well, they know what they’re talking about, Millie. You’d do well to listen.”
“Now, girl when did you grow up and start giving me orders?”
Olive laughed again, and Rafe imagined he could watch their banter all day. Dalia never spoke up with his mother the entire year and a half they’d been together. She usually greeted her politely and answered questions, but never sparked the playful side his mom had inside. Olive did it without effort—of course, his mother had helped teach them all how to tie their shoes—so, that probably brought a different sort of relationship.
“Now, that I can outrun you I figure I can get a little bossy.”
Millie laughed, her pale eyes brightening. “Well, Miss Olive, it won’t be long and I’ll be able to switch that rear end just fine. By the way, sugar, don’t you think that top is a little low? Your chest is about to pop right out.”
“Mama,” Rafe muttered, his cheeks flushing in heat, but Olive shoved his shoulder.
“Relax, Rafe,” she said. “Millie and I have an understanding. She can say what she wants so long as she’s being honest, right, Mill?”
“Well, I probably talk too much now.”
“I like it,” Olive assured. “Maybe more people should be more honest, don’t you think? And to answer your question, no it’s not too low. If I’ve got the goods, I’m going to use them.”
Rafe agreed wholeheartedly, but that honesty Olive wanted wasn’t ever coming out of his mouth. His mother simply snickered again. “So, what brings the two of you out here—and together, no less?”
Rafe cleared his throat. Olive wasn’t smiling anymore. “Well, we had something we wanted to tell you.”
“I’m listening,” his mom grinned.
His mother was playful, she might laugh at the entire idea, but at the same time deception was an unpardonable sin. You could make any mistake, but you’d better fess up and be honest. “You, uh, remember how Ollie here got engaged—”
“Thomas Abernathy,” Millie interjected. “Sugar, you know he doesn’t deserve you.”
Olive flushed and met Rafe’s eye before he continued. “Yeah, I agree with you, Mama. The thing is, Ollie, uh, she called off the engagement for… a few reasons.”
Millie clapped. “Good for you, honey.”
Olive stepped closer. “Millie, there’s something more. You know how Mama and Daddy are. I made the mistake of calling off the wedding at my engagement party.”
“Oh, you brave girl. I bet your mama was as red as a tomato at having to tell all those guests. Last I heard it was near two hundred invited.”
Olive wrung her fingers together, looking to Rafe for comfort, he guessed. He didn’t have any because his stomach was in knots too. Taking a deep breath, Rafe blurted the entire story. Everything from Ms. Cutler slapping Thomas and kicking him off the property, to Rafe and Olive becoming the newest engagement of the season. Olive was twisting her hair as silence wrapped around the room. Rafe’s chest felt as if his truck had landed on top.
After a few breathless moments his mother chuckled. “You’re telling me… you two… are engaged?”
Olive offered a sharp glance at Rafe, shrugging slightly. He faced his mother again. “No, Mama—not for real. You understand?”
Millie whooped. “Oh, I’m over the moon, boy! I can’t tell you how long I’ve been prayin’ to the good Lord that you two will wise up and realize you are nuts about each other. When’s the wedding?”
“Millie…” Olive tried, but stopped so she could help his mom stand from the bed.
“Here, sugar,” his mother crooned, stepping toward the side table near her bed. She dug through her purse with her good hand, while Olive steadied her weaker side. “Ah, here it is. I see my son asked you without a ring—shameful, boy,” she said with a glance at Rafe. He was too stunned to say anything. “Here. I want you to wear this for the time being—or for good, whatever you want. It was my mother’s ring.”
Rafe’s throat tightened and Olive seemed ready to burst into tears as his mom shoved the small diamond ring into her palm. Olive shook her head. “No, Millie. I couldn’t take this.”
“Sure you can.” Olive hiccupped and Rafe was positive she was crying now as his mother hugged her tight. “It belongs in this family. Lily’s grandma gave August her ring to use, so this naturally would go to Rafe’s love. Let’s see if it fits.”
Olive’s chin quivered when she glanced once more to Rafe. He nodded—what else could they do? He hadn’t seen his mother with such a prance in her step since before her stroke. Slowly, Olive slipped the ring on her left finger. Millie clicked her tongue. “A little snug, but we can adjust it.”
Rafe swallowed hard staring at the small diamond on Olive’s finger. There wasn’t even a comparison to the ring Tom had offered, but still, his opinion was the family ring looked perfect right where it was.
“Millie,” Olive croaked. “The thing is we aren’t really—”
“We aren’t really planning anything until you’re home,” Rafe interrupted, catching Olive off guard.
“Oh, don’t you put anything on hold due to me,” his mom said.
“No, Ollie—we—really… want you to be a part of it.” Olive castrated him with her eyes. If he had any sense, he’d keep his mouth shut, but Rafe wasn’t always known for his good sense. “So, you keep working hard, mama, and get out of here.”
Millie wrapped her arms as best she cou
ld around his neck and kissed his cheek. “You two have made me so happy.” She still leaned against Olive for support, before urging Rafe’s hand around Olive’s trembling fingers. “I swear to you boy, even if I can’t move or think as quick, you break her heart I’ll whoop you good.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered, squeezing Olive’s clammy hand.
Oh yeah. He thought he’d get into trouble taking this farce of a job. He’d never thought lying to his own blood would be the sort of trouble he’d find.
8 years ago
Rafe was stoic and staring off in the distance as Olive pedaled up the curved back drive toward the two-story garage. Millie and the boys lived in the apartment over the top and Olive thought Millie had fixed it up beautifully; made it a real home.
Olive leaped off her bike when she caught sight of Rafe’s bloody knuckles on his right hand. “Rafe, what in mercy’s name happened to your hand?”
“Ollie, it’s best if you aren’t here right now. You’re Mama and Daddy probably would have something to say about you coming down here.” His voice was flat and lost in some thought he couldn’t seem to shake.
“What are you talking about? I always come down here. Where’s Auggie and your mama?”
“At the school.”
Olive glanced at her gold wristwatch. “It’s almost six o’clock.”
“It’s because of me, alright.”
Olive marched toward the stoop Rafe had perched atop, but ended up chasing after him when he stomped up the stairs toward the apartment.
“Wait up, what happened?” Ever since Rafe joined the track team at his school, his body seemed faster in every way, not to mention, Olive wasn’t blind to a few new ripples forming on his arms and legs. He’d just turned fifteen, and if he kept going the way he was, Olive was positive Rafe was going to catch her eye more than a few times. Of course, she’d never admit that out loud. Rafe was digging through the freezer, plopping cubed ice into a bowl when she closed the front door behind her. Olive didn’t wait for him to act before she grabbed a towel out of a drawer by the stove. Rafe growled in the back of his throat and trudged to the small, round kitchen table and slunk into a chair. “Are you going to talk to me, or keep pouting?”
“I punched your cousin, alright—smack in the nose. Mama got a call that he needed stitches and it’s likely broken. Your uncle called my school and put some pressure on them to expel me. I could get suspended, but mama’s arguing with the principal now, since it wasn’t on school property. August is there as a witness or whatever, but really who are they going to believe? Me, or Beau.”
Olive stopped folding the towel over the ice, her words lost for a handful of throbbing heartbeats. Slowly, she eased into the chair next to Rafe, and rested the ice pack on his battered knuckles. He winced, but took over holding the towel. “Why d'you hit, Beau?”
“I don’t want to say,” he pouted.
“Rafe, tell me,” Olive said, rubbing her temples.
“Why are you so upset? You know Beau had it coming.”
“Probably, knowing his mouth. I’m upset because I don’t know why you think you need to fight all the time. Why are you so angry, Rafe? It’s like the older you get, the more you talk with your fists and not your smart mouth. How many times has your mama been in there pleading your case, now?”
“You sound like a shrink?”
“I was hoping I sounded more like a friend, idiot.”
Rafe sighed and lolled his head back, staring at the ceiling. “Fine, princess. You want to know why I get angry? I’ll tell you, but you’ve gotta swear you won’t tell anyone. Promise?”
“Cross my heart.”
Rafe met her eye as if making sure she meant every word. “I caught Beau, Tommy, and Nick spouting off to August about stuff they have no business bringing up.”
“What sort of stuff?”
Rafe’s square jaw pulsed, and he brushed his hair out of his eyes. Millie wasn’t thrilled with the length of his hair, but she didn’t bother him too much now that he was older. “Stuff about my dad.”
Olive furrowed her brow. “That’s cruel. Why would they say things about your dad when he’s… dead?”
Rafe drummed the table. “I told you he was dead and gone, but I lied, alright.” Olive gaped and Rafe rolled his eyes. “Can you hold off getting mad at me for a little longer? There’s a reason, okay. I’m… ashamed of him. I didn’t want you to… think differently of me.”
The silence that followed his statement created a new experience for Olive. Sitting quietly around the Whitfield’s kitchen table was the first moment she’d experienced a crack in her heart. Never had she seen Rafe’s eyes so vulnerable as she did then. “I would never think differently, or less of you, Rafe.”
He checked his swollen hand once before meeting her eye again. “My dad’s name is Jed Whitney. The Whitneys live up near Charlotte. I’ve seen my dad once, and it was an accident. He didn’t say a word before he just shoved past me.”
“But how would Beau know about your dad?”
Rafe cleared his throat. “Because your uncle just got done doing business with the Whitney’s and the secret came out. Your Uncle noticed after a few meetings—I guess I sort of look like the deadbeat.”
“Wait, business with them? I don’t understand.”
“My dad comes from the same circles as you, princess. Okay, there—now you know. Your parents have known forever, but they promised Mama they wouldn’t let on where we came from. It’s why your Daddy let us stay on the property—pretty decent of him to keep any eye on us. He told your uncle to steer clear, I don’t think the Whitneys ditching us sits well with your daddy.” Olive beamed in pride for a moment before Rafe curled his fist again, his gaze dark and almost dangerous. “My old man slept with the maid then didn’t want anything to do with his two mistakes and has been trying ever since to cut us out completely. I guess I had a grandma, or someone, who was forcing him to make payments to my mom—child support or whatever. But she died, so he’s been trying to get out of his responsibilities ever since. He even came here a couple years back—telling my mom he had a ‘real’ family now. Mama doesn’t ask anything from him. She told him he could stop paying, but it’s something to do with a will, or automatic withdrawals or… I don’t know, Mama doesn’t like to involve us too much. Hey, don’t start bawling on me,” he chuckled, wiping a tear from Olive’s cheek.
“I’m sorry, I just can’t imagine a man leaving his children.”
“Welcome to the real world, Ol,” Rafe snapped. “Anyway, Beau told August we were gutter-trash, that even our own daddy can’t stand the sight of us. He was starting to be indecent about Mama when I got there—I didn’t let him finish.”
Olive sniffled. Rafe’s father was like her father in the terms of money and status—who would have known? Except Daddy was a real man and loved his child. This Jed Whitney was a no-good-rotten coward in her fourteen-year-old opinion. Without thinking, Olive draped her arms around Rafe’s neck, squeezing tight. They’d never really hugged before—maybe a few side embraces on birthdays but never a full, choke-the-life-out-of-you hug.
It took a few silent moments before Rafe cautiously wrapped his arms around her waist and held her tighter against him. He even buried his face in her shoulder, and her heart broke a little more when he clung to her body with subtle desperation.
“Rafe…”
“Yeah,” he mumbled against her shirt.
“I hope you broke Beau’s nose.”
Chapter 6
Silence as thick as tar filled the truck as Rafe and Olive bumbled back toward her apartment building. He occasionally swept a glance in her direction, but her attention was locked on the windshield. Her thumb continually rubbed over the diamond ring on her finger. Rafe couldn’t remember a time when Olive was so quiet.
He could see the shoreline when she finally cleared her throat and faced him in the seat. “You let your mother believe we were engaged.”
Rafe nodded sheepishly
. “I know. She was so… happy. I didn’t have the heart to let her down.”
“What happens when there’s no wedding, Rafe? How let down is she going to be then?” Her voice was eerily cool. He wished she would scream and yell, over this terrifying calm she’d mastered through the years.
“I don’t know, Ol, give me a second to work through it.”
“No, you don’t get a second. Because it’s one thing to play make-believe at parties with people who couldn’t give two licks about the two of us, it’s another thing to lie to a woman whom we both love. What about August? You going to lie to him too?”
“Ollie, I don’t know, alright. I panicked. I haven’t even told August.”
Olive had a way about her when she was angry. Her eyes transformed into slits that sent a tremble down his spine. It was as if some supernatural force about her scowl compelled him to apologize no matter how much he resisted. Rafe gripped the steering wheel tighter, swallowing a bulging lump, and trying to avoid that penetrating, scathing glare.
He flicked his gaze toward her quickly, before offering the wheel a hearty slap. “Sorry, okay. I’m sorry, Ollie. I shouldn’t have roped you into this with Mama.”
“You should be sorry, Rafe.” Olive settled back against the seat, her lips puckered. Rafe tried to seem put-out with her frustration, but she was too endearing when she tried to stay angry.
Rafe offered a coy grin when she wasn’t looking, his palm slithered across the seat before he quickly squeezed the pressure point just above her knee.
“Rafe Whitfield,” she shrieked, fighting off his hand going in for a second pinch. “I will knock you so hard you’ll see tomorrow today.”
Olive laughed, and the tension eased in the truck when he pulled into the parking lot of her complex. She nudged his shoulder, and he grinned his final apology. Shutting off the engine, he sighed, staring at the lights of the apartments in the building. Rafe rubbed his fingers along his chin as he thought about the newest predicament. “I am sorry, Ollie. For all this.”
