Wrong Twin, Right Man. Laurie Campbell
have turned it into a business without your marketing. Anyway, that was how we met.”
“And fell in love.”
“And fell in love, yeah.” Rafe hesitated, then squared his shoulders, and for a moment she saw a grimace of pain cross his face before he resumed his look of calm control. Even so, his voice was a little unsteady when he muttered, “Thanks for asking. I needed to remember that.”
Chapter Three
He had loved Beth.
He needed to remember that, Rafe knew.
He needed to hold on to whatever he could, if he was going to get through this cemetery visit.
“You don’t have to drive me,” Anne had told him early this morning, as if she might have seen some sign of the uneasiness that had haunted him all night. “I can always get a cab from the physical therapy clinic.”
But that wasn’t how Beth would want her sister cared for, he knew. And he needed to care for somebody.
Especially after how badly he’d failed his wife. Letting her think the street kids mattered more than she did, letting her leave on vacation without making the time to fix things…
“No, I’ll take you,” he’d told Anne, and now they were almost to the Fairlawn Memorial Park.
With a bouquet of yellow roses and a wildflower wreath on the seat between them.
“I really appreciate this,” she said. “I know you’ve got a lot of work backed up.”
He did, but this visit mattered more. Because Anne needed this trip.
“No problem,” Rafe assured her, pulling into a parking space. “It’s been twelve days since the funeral, and I should’ve come before now.”
But she surprised him with a quick gesture, laying her hand on his arm as if to cut off the very thought. “Not if it tears you up inside. Beth wouldn’t want that.”
No, she wouldn’t. Not Beth.
If this visit tore him up inside, though, it was no more than he deserved for letting her leave with things still uneasy between them.
And besides, he could handle it. As long as he had Anne to look after, there was no risk of breaking down.
Even so, accompanying her across the endless lawn to Beth’s grave cost him more self-control than he’d anticipated. And Anne seemed to realize that he wasn’t quite as strong as he’d hoped, because she made no attempt to engage him in conversation.
Without speaking, he placed his sheaf of yellow roses by the headstone and retreated to give her some time alone with Beth’s memory. Yet after a few minutes of what looked like silent prayer, she turned to him without even wiping away the tears on her cheeks.
“Rafe,” she said softly, “you have a right to feel bad, too.”
“I know.” But crying wasn’t an option. He swallowed and shoved his hands into his pockets. “It’s okay.”
“I mean,” she faltered, addressing the flowers in her hands as if meeting his gaze might be too intimate, “I know you feel like you have to look out for me, but if you need a shoulder to cry on…I can look out for you, too.”
“That’s okay,” he said hastily. This trip was for Anne, not himself, but it was kind of her to make such an offer. “Thanks.”
She seemed to realize that he didn’t need comforting, because without another word she turned back to the grave and gently laid her own flowers next to his. Then she stayed still, probably saying goodbye to her sister in her own way, which Rafe hoped would take a while.
Because he needed to get himself back in control. Back to the kind of strength he’d relied on for years, the kind that kept him looking out for whoever needed protection.
Which didn’t include Rafe Montoya.
No matter what Anne thought. But since she wouldn’t be around for long, anyway, there was no point in explaining that he didn’t need a shoulder to cry on.
Never had, never would.
So get yourself together.
It helped to remember the day of the funeral, Rafe discovered, mentally reviewing all the mourners he’d seen around the closed casket. Beth’s friends from the quilt shop. The whole crew from Legalismo, because he hadn’t thought to insist on keeping the clinic open. A couple of former clients. Their old neighbors from across the street, the Harts, Roger and Linda and Marci and Jim….
“Thanks for bringing me,” Anne said, startling him with the realization that he’d completely lost track of the present. But apparently she had finished crying, leaving her wreath behind, because she was standing beside him and looking a lot more composed. As if she’d unloaded whatever grief was haunting her. “I needed to say goodbye.”
“I’m glad it helped,” he managed to answer as they started back toward the car. Back to real life, with its ongoing list of demands. Which reminded him of the guy who’d come in this morning, worried about his girlfriend taking their baby to Mexico. “Listen, if I go back to work tonight, will you be okay?”
She shot him a surprised glance. “Of course.”
Maybe he was judging all women by Beth, who’d hated it when he stayed late at the clinic. “You sure? I don’t want to leave you alone if you need—”
“A shoulder to cry on?”
He hadn’t even thought of that, but of course he’d be there for her if she needed to cry. “Well, yeah,” he said, reaching for his car keys. “Whatever I can do.”
Anne waited until he’d opened her door before fixing him with a wry gaze. “Kind of a one-way street we’ve got here, isn’t it?”
What, just because he wouldn’t cry on her shoulder? “Look,” he explained, holding his hands out in case she needed assistance, “I take care of people. I don’t need people taking care of me.”
She settled into her seat without taking his hand, moving so much more easily than yesterday that he felt a jolt of admiration for the physical therapist. “Ever?”
“Well, not since I was a kid.” Not since his mother had fled the burden of caretaking. Not since he’d learned it was all his fault.
Anne reached for her seat belt, flinching a little as she stretched her arm back, and returned her gaze to his. “Tell me about when you were a kid.”
Maybe she thought it would help him let go of some old grief or something, but he couldn’t expect her to enjoy hearing about his childhood in the barrios of L.A.
“That’s a story for some other time,” Rafe said lightly, closing her door and moving to his own side of the car.
But as soon as he took his seat, Anne shifted her posture as if to get a better look at him. “All right,” she said, and in her voice he heard the same determination he used to hear from Beth, whenever she tried to nurture him. “I’ll make sure and ask some other time.”
Some other time took a few days to arrive, but she wasn’t going to let him out of talking about his life. Not when, Anne suspected, this man was carrying more grief than anyone should have to carry alone.
So when Rafe picked her up after her last therapy session of the week and apologized for having to return to the clinic as soon as he dropped her off, she told him to skip the trip home. “I’ll just go with you,” she said, and felt a shimmer of satisfaction when he turned the car around.
Maybe a visit to Legalismo would give her the chance to help Rafe Montoya.
Because there was something bothering him, she knew. And if she could encourage him to talk about it—not directly, not when he’d made it clear that he didn’t need any nurturing—she might