All My Life

by C J Marie

  ***

  “I’m getting whiplash, Rafe,” August laughed into the phone. “You’re telling me it’s real now?”

  “Together, yes. We’re not engaged or anything.”

  “Why not?”

  Rafe rolled his eyes. “Most people aren’t like you and don’t propose after the second date.”

  “Don’t give me that, you and Ollie have been building tension for almost a decade. I thought that was long enough. And the real proposal didn’t come for a year, there were just a hundred small proposals in between, for your information.”

  “Yeah, trust me, I remember.”

  “Look at us now. I should write a book on how to do it right.” August cleared his throat. “How did the Cutlers take it?”

  Rafe shifted on the couch and picked at a tattered thread on his jeans. “She hasn’t said anything yet.”

  August paused, but Rafe could practically see his twin shrugging his shoulders. “Understandable. What do you plan to do though, Rafe? I’m trying to figure out how Bernadette will respond. Lon always seemed to like us.”

  “I think Bernadette does too, she just… I don’t know, conforms to certain ways of thinking more than Lon. I don’t want Olive to have contention in her family, but it’s a risk, I guess.”

  “She’s got a calm side. I mean, she let Lily live with them for the year before we got married. She and Lily are even friendly, so I think Ms. Bernadette will come around. But who knows, it’s her own daughter this time.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’ve been saying the same thing to myself all week.”

  “This is what you want?”

  Rafe leaned his head back, feeling like a fool when the stupid grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. It’s what I want. It’s what I’ve wanted for a long time.”

  “I know. We all knew.” August blew out his lips. “It’s strange though. Olive Cutler—I still think of her as a little sister with pigtails and a glare that could cool fire.”

  “Yeah, she wasn’t ever a sister to me.”

  “A good thing since you’re eating her face off,” August laughed. “What about the money, Rafe?”

  He groaned. “I told Olive I didn’t want to keep taking it. Doesn’t feel right.”

  “Let me guess, she didn’t take that sort of talk.”

  Rafe laughed remembering Olive’s twisted face and huff a few days prior. It ended with legs tangled, but she did know how to stand her ground. “She wouldn’t hear it. The woman insists it’s for mama, not for us anyway. It’s hard to argue when she throws the mother card, you know.”

  August sighed. He was muttering something off the phone. Rafe heard Lily’s voice and Olive’s name before his sister-in-law laughed and cheered. “Hear that?” August asked. “We’re happy for you. I look forward to seeing you both, and mama, of course.”

  “Next month right?”

  “Next month. As soon as the semester is over.”

  “You know we just want to see Brin. You and Lily don’t even need to show.”

  August laughed and cussed at him. “I’ll remind you of that when she’s screaming at all hours. You can sit up with her.”

  “No, that’s when I check out.”

  “Right. Hey, I gotta go, but don’t screw this up, Rafe. Lily and Mama will murder you.”

  When the call ended Rafe cursed realizing the time. His mom had been held captive, as she put it, for the better part of three months. If Rafe was late picking her up, let alone bringing her to a house without a proper meal, he’d never hear the end of it.

  Clearly Olive had a beeline connection to his brain when a text asking him if he was already at the facility came through. He might have fibbed and said he was on his way, it was almost true—he was on his way out the door. Rafe had fretted over the state of his home and his mother’s comfort for two months. Her safety was his priority, thinking of his mom losing her balance or stumbling, sent pin pricks up his spine. Yet, since Olive had offered suggestions and her listening ear, Rafe only had relief now.

  Millie had surpassed the therapists’ and physicians’ expectations. She walked with the assistance of a cane, but even her physical therapist believed in time she could walk unassisted. Her hand may never have full function, though she had been able to twitch her fingers the last few visits. Olive often chirped they should always be hopeful—and it meant more than words could say.

  Like a suction cup had been jabbed into his lungs, all the air dissolved into the thick air when he stepped outside. Shadowing his face in a deliberate snarl, he stalked toward his truck. “What are you doing here, Beau?”

  “Hey there, Rafe,” Beau Cutler beamed. He pushed off his white Porsche and pranced across Rafe’s lawn. Beau’s brow was coated in sweat, but the man refused to remove his suit coat even in the dripping heat. “Where you off to so quickly?”

  “I didn’t know where I went was any of your business.”

  “It is since you decided to sully my cousin.”

  Rafe’s boiling blood sent chills wrapping around his neck when it turned to ice. His head turned like a rusty cog until he faced Beau. “Don’t talk about her that way.”

  Beau chortled through his teeth. “I always knew Olive had some twisted crush on you, I just never thought there would come a day when I’d actually be disgusted by my own blood. Here’s the thing, Whitfield, I’m giving you an out. My aunt and uncle are blind to Olive’s wrongly placed affections for you. When they find out, trust me, it won’t be pleasant. As much as you think Uncle Lon likes you he’ll have your hide. You think he wants his baby girl with you?”

  “You need to get off my property, Beau.”

  “I’ll leave, after I have your assurance you’ll leave Olive before she ends up hurt and losing the people who love her most.”

  “You don’t know anything about her, Beau,” Rafe offered, calmer than he expected. “You keep your nose in the air, thinking you’re above everyone else, and Olive still is a hundred times better than you’ll ever be. You think she’s intimidated by you?”

  “No,” he scoffed. Each lip curled and twisted as if made of rubber until Beau carried a masterfully, vicious sneer. “No, I’m not a fool to think Olive would come to her senses because of me. But you know she’d do anything to stay in her parents’ graces. You’re honestly going to ask her to give them up?”

  “It won’t come to that.” Rafe wasn’t sure if he was convincing himself or Beau.

  “Maybe not.” Beau smiled and leaned one elbow on Rafe’s truck bed. “Funny that she hasn’t told them though. She didn’t even tell me—I simply had the displeasure of seeing you two swapping tongues outside the house. Think about that, Rafe. Why hasn’t she admitted she’s not pretending anymore?”

  “Get out of here, Beau,” Rafe growled. “I’m leaving and you’re in my way.”

  Beau held up his hands in surrender. “Fine. I hope you walk away, Whitfield. You know I’ll make sure it happens one way or another, but it will be Olive who gets hurt in the end. Be a man and let her go now.”

  Rafe burned his fury toward Beau with a final glance before hopping into his truck and revving his engine to life. There was a tight, resentment toward himself for giving Beau the satisfaction of his reaction. He saw in his side mirror Beau laughing as he slipped his sickeningly expensive glasses over his eyes and returned to his car. Rafe’s knuckles pulled white like plastic stretching to the max as he gripped the steering wheel. Taking a deep breath, he recounted how many times he’d told himself this would happen. He promised Olive he was in this—he wanted to be in this—and Beau Cutler wasn’t going to be the one to break the hold Olive had on his soul.

  Though Rafe knew her cousin was conniving enough to find a way to force Olive to break the chain.

  2 months ago

  Olive rubbed sleep from her eyes. Something had roused her, but fatigue still commanded her mind to feel as though it were underwater. Nestling into the silky pillow once more she splayed out on her mattress grateful Tom was
on a business trip for his father. Whenever he stayed at her apartment overnight, he took up the entire bed, leaving Olive to sleep precariously on the edge. No amount of shoving or kicking stirred the man.

  It was strange to have her boyfriend of two years stay over less now than in the beginning, wasn’t it? Most would think they’d be on the verge of moving in together. Olive suspected Tom was thinking of proposing. She liked the idea of marrying, but inside, a lead ball of doubt lined her heart. Tom was a decent man, he’d provide her with a good life, and he loved her. He told her often; it was sweet. Olive imagined love would be fiery, passionate, but also a delicious friendship. She imagined honor, respect—a person to share her deepest thoughts with, her confidant as well as a lover. Tom wasn’t her confidant.

  The buzzing came again.

  Olive snapped her head up, peering through slits in her eyes until she saw the blue glow of her cell phone on her bedside table. Scrambling through her down comforter, her hair a tangled mess around her face, she swiped the incoming call. Her voice croaked a greeting.

  “Olive,” Rafe’s gasping breath broke through the line. The lights were on inside her body now, and Olive shot straight up in bed. “I didn’t… I didn’t know who to call. Zac is… out of—”

  “Rafe, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Olive was already on her feet, darting toward her closet to slip out of her tattered T-shirt with a hole right over her belly.

  “No,” he rasped. “It’s mama.” Olive’s heart left her chest and throbbed in her ears. “Something happened. Arnie found her outside the apartment.”

  Olive pulled her phone back. She was getting a call from her mother. Something had happened. “Rafe, where are you, where’s Millie?”

  “I’m at the hospital.”

  “I’m coming.”

  “Ollie, I—”

  “Don’t think of arguing with me, Rafe Whitfield. I’m coming.”

  Olive watched Rafe pace in the hallway. The emergency department was bustling, and Millie seemed to be sleeping peacefully, despite the machines and oxygen tubes littering her body. A stroke. Millie was forty-seven, how could she have had a stroke?

  Rafe was always level-headed, calm, and usually smiling, but tonight she saw the weariness painted in his face as he spoke to August on the phone.

  “Are those forms done, baby?” A nurse with understanding eyes crooned.

  “Oh, yes. Are they moving her upstairs now?”

  The nurse nodded. “Shouldn’t be more than a few minutes. Sorry about your mama, but we’ll take good care of her.”

  Olive wiped away a tear and gripped Millie’s lifeless hand. “Thank you.” No point in correcting the untruth. Millie Whitfield was a mother to her and always had been. It wasn’t a disgrace to her own mother, only a bonus in Olive’s opinion.

  Rafe raked a hand through his hair when the aides and nurses came to transport Millie to her room on the third floor. His face was hollowed, when Olive wrapped her arms tight around his neck. She felt his shoulders relax as he hugged her close. “Thank you, Ollie—for being here.”

  She wiped the salty tears squeezing out of her eyes. Crumbling when Rafe needed someone wasn’t going to suit anyone. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else, Rafe. She’s going to be okay, you know that right?”

  He nodded. “She’s too stubborn not to be.”

  Olive chuckled and took his hand in the elevator as they followed behind Millie’s bed. “The house is in an uproar. Everyone’s been demanding updates. I’ve told them to give y’all some time before you get a mix of Cutlers and Arnie and the boys down here. I’ve been updating Zac too. I figured you wouldn’t get back to his texts anytime soon.”

  Rafe smiled softly. “Thank you. I left a voicemail for Zac before I called you, but I’m glad you’re here. Thank you for helping with all the papers, my mind is a muddled mess, and I was talking August off a ledge. Lily’s about to pop, he can’t be coming out here now.”

  “I bet he’s struggling. I can’t imagine feeling torn like that.”

  “He felt better knowing you were here,” Rafe whispered.

  “I’m here. You tell him to focus on Lily. You only have your first baby once—and you know Millie would say the same thing.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Rafe settled along the hard couch in Millie’s hospital room. Olive took the place next to him as doctors and nurses filtered in and out. Rafe’s eyes were closed and his hand was still threaded in hers when the door to the room opened and Dalia’s green eyes broke through the gray dawn.

  “Olive?” she muttered, her eyes darting to her sleeping boyfriend, their hands clasped together, and Millie in the hospital bed. “I got a call from Zac. What in heaven’s name happened?”

  Interesting that Rafe hadn’t called his girlfriend. Trouble in paradise, perhaps? Olive carefully slipped out from Rafe’s hold and sauntered across the room. She kept her face neutral, and her voice as light as possible. Olive didn’t want to make waves for Rafe, but at the same time, the Whitfields meant more to her than preserving Dalia’s feelings. “Millie had a stroke. Thankfully, Arnie found her fairly quickly, the doctors were able to thin the clot, but we don’t know what the effects are yet.”

  Dalia gasped. “Oh my. They don’t know if she’ll walk, what about talking?”

  Olive sighed, her own fatigue clutching her mind. “They simply don’t know. We can hope.”

  “My granddaddy had a stroke, and he was bound to a wheelchair and couldn’t move without help until he died. Rafe’s twenty-two. That’s simply too young to carry such…”

  Olive felt a flash of frustration, and Dalia must have noticed because she shut her flapping lips. “Millie will pull through. She will,” Olive insisted.

  Dalia stiffened. “Thank you for coming, Olive. I’m here now, why don’t you go on home and rest yourself. Must have been a long night.”

  “Thanks for the concern, but I’m staying.”

  “You really don’t need to. I can take care of, Rafe.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you can,” she grumbled. “I’m here for Millie, Rafe, and August, as long as the Whitfields need me. They’re my family, Dalia.”

  “No, they worked for your family,” she said under her breath. Bold. Dalia’s true feelings were slipping through, and Olive was losing her patience. “They will be my legal family soon enough. I can tend to them.”

  Olive smirked, choosing not to respond, and drifted toward Millie’s bed where she sat on the edge, rubbing her hand. “We’re all here, Mill,” she whispered.

  “You look exhausted—”

  “Ollie’s not leaving,” Rafe’s grumbling voice interrupted Dalia. Both women glanced toward the bench. Rafe scrubbed the sleep from his eyes, narrowing his gaze at his girlfriend. “She said she’s staying and we want her here.”

  Dalia didn’t say anything before she rushed to his side and pressed a deep kiss to his lips. Rafe seemed more like a stiff board. He must have read the signals that Dalia was kissing him to make Olive jealous. Not the time or place. “I’m sorry you needed to deal with all this, baby. You should have called me.”

  “I was alright,” Rafe said, his voice was softer, but he wasn’t holding onto Dalia like she seemed to want. “Ollie took care of the medical side so I could lose my head a few times and answer August’s million questions.”

  Dalia glared only so Olive could see. Olive was too tired, too overwhelmed, too heartbroken over Millie to care. “So glad she was here then,” Dalia hissed.

  “Me too,” Rafe stated.

  Olive grinned, though neither Rafe nor Dalia saw since she’d turned away from them. She’d always be there. The Whitfields were part of her life and her heart.

  Chapter 14

  Rafe nearly forgot about the Beau confrontation as he watched Olive jabber from the backseat with his mom. Both women hadn’t stopped grinning since they’d left the rehab facility. The therapists, administrative staff, and nurses had supplied packets filled with information that sent his mind into an overwh
elming fog. His mother told him not to worry so much, but apart from Olive she was the most important woman in his life. Worrying came with the territory.

  “So what are they doing for you when you leave school next week, sugar?” Millie asked, straining to turn her head toward Olive, though her muscles weren’t as flexible as before.

  Olive shrugged. “Ms. Fry and the staff are all being rather coy about things,” she insisted. “I don’t want a fuss, but I wouldn’t mind if cake is involved.”

  “I’m so proud of you for all you’re accomplishing. You’ll be a wonderful teacher, Ollie.”

  “Thanks, Millie. I’m excited to have my own class someday without worrying if I’m doing anything right. I’ll do it right because it will be mine, does that make sense?”

  Millie nodded. “I think I’m most proud that you didn’t listen to what everyone wanted—you did this for you. I’m sure it feels rather satisfying.”

  “I think after two years into school mama gave up trying to convince me of going into finance or business. Daddy never seemed to have an opinion, Mama always has enough of that for the two of them on certain things.” Olive laughed, but Rafe found it was probably true.

  Lon Cutler had a firm stance on some topics—his daughter’s well-being was one—but Bernadette found firm foundations on things like education, wealth, appearance. If he’d never seen a softer side on Bernadette Cutler, because he had on several occasions, he might not care for Olive’s mother. But Rafe wouldn’t forget when his father showed up at the Cutler house years back, Bernadette was the one who kicked Jed Whitney’s sorry rear out when he’d made his mother cry. He’d always admire Bernadette for that. And for helping Lily and August stay together when Lily’s daddy had to move after the cement plant shut down.

  Rafe grinned and pulled up his drive. “Well, we’re here. Welcome home, Mama.” He faced his mother expecting to see relief, but instead she was rubbing her weak hand, her bottom lip rolled over her bottom teeth. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

  Millie glanced at him, trying to smile, but Rafe knew by now when his mother was uneasy. Olive leaned forward, her hand gripping Millie’s unmoving palm. “I never wanted to be a burden on my children—”