Mendoza's Return
Susan Crosby
Dare to dream… these sparkling romances will make you laugh, cry and fall in love – again and again!He was the only man she’d loved – until their differences tore them apart.Ten years later, Melina still isn’t over Raphael Mendoza. And when the devastatingly handsome lawyer comes home, Melina knows she can’t walk away a second time. Not with the attraction still sizzling between them!
“We have a history, and it’s not going to be easy.”
“Especially since the attraction is still there.” Might as well put that on the table, Rafe thought.
Melina hesitated then nodded. “Being attracted isn’t the issue. It’s what we do about it.”
He knew what he’d like to do about it. For the first time since they’d met, they had their own homes, which offered privacy, a place where they could spend a whole night together, where they wouldn’t have to check out by 10:00 a.m. They could shower together in the morning, linger over breakfast wearing only robes, easily disposed of.
The silence escalated between them. He wondered if her thoughts were headed down the same path as his.
Dear Reader,
Reunion stories pose a particular challenge for a writer. Readers sometimes ask, “If their relationship didn’t work the first time around, why should I expect it to work the second time?”
It’s a good and valid question. I happen to like reunion stories for a couple of reasons: because the couple’s past gives them an emotional footing for the present, and because “second chances” is a theme I love. Combine those reasons with the fact so many of our books feature heroes and heroines in their twenties and thirties, and it’s the perfect storm for me. We change so much in our twenties that it’s not surprising we’d be open to a second chance at love with someone from our past.
It isn’t easy, of course. Nothing worthwhile is, as the saying goes. But I think a complicated past can make for a richer, deeper and truer relationship.
Mendoza’s Return is a reunion story. Melina and Rafe are plunked smack in the middle of their own perfect storm to weather some rough seas in search of smooth sailing. I hope you enjoy their voyage.
Susan Crosby
About the Author
SUSAN CROSBY believes in the value of setting goals, but also in the magic of making wishes, which often do come true—as long as she works hard enough. Along life’s journey she’s done a lot of the usual things—married, had children, attended college a little later than the average co-ed and earned a BA in English. Then she dived off the deep end into a full-time writing career, a wish come true. Susan enjoys writing about people who take a chance on love, sometimes against all odds. She loves warm, strong heroes and good-hearted, self-reliant heroines, and she will always believe in happily ever after. More can be learned about her at www.susancrosby.com.
Mendoza’s
Return
Susan Crosby
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For the Broderick family—
Sean, Kelly, Chase, Cameron and Jorie—
everyday heroes. You’re an inspiration.
Chapter One
Melina Lawrence looked over her shoulder and winked at her sister Angie, the most effervescent bride Melina had ever seen.
“Don’t trip!” Angie mouthed just as the wedding planner signaled to maid of honor Melina to begin her walk down the aisle.
Melina smiled, both at her sister’s teasing caution and the beauty of the moment. The church was full. Happy faces greeted her with each step. Then about halfway down the aisle she spotted someone who didn’t belong in the crowd—Raphael Mendoza. Rafe Mendoza. Rafe, the love of her life—in high school, anyway, and a little beyond. Homecoming king to her homecoming queen. They were voted most likely to wed….
But they hadn’t.
He came sharply into focus, the guests around him blurring into a muted montage of color. Why was he here? He lived in Michigan, fifteen hundred miles from Red Rock, Texas, where he was born and raised. Where they’d gone to high school together.
Don’t trip. The muscles of Melina’s cheeks ached as she tried to maintain her smile. All of her senses overloaded so fast it was dizzying. He gave her the slightest of nods as she moved past him, her pulse pounding in her ears so loudly she couldn’t hear the music.
Don’t trip. Her legs kept moving but felt numb.
When she could see clearly again, she noticed the expressions on the faces of old friends—sympathy, but also people’s blatant curiosity of a gossip-worthy event.
Angie must have invited him to the wedding but hadn’t bothered to tell Melina he was coming. Then again, her sister still believed in fairy tales and happy endings. She’d never given up on Rafe and Melina finding their way back to each other. Angie had adored Rafe as the big brother she’d never had. Adored him so much, she’d gone into an extended and dramatic period of mourning for him ten years ago, after Melina and Rafe broke up when Angie was only twelve….
It was the look on her mother’s face—full of understanding and maybe even a little annoyance—that drew Melina back into the moment. She managed genuine smiles for her mother and Gramps, seated next to her, then noted the panic in her about-to-be brother-in-law’s eyes. She smiled consolingly at the very sweet Tommy Buchanan, then took her position alongside seven bridesmaids. The guests rose for the bride’s shining moment, Angie’s gaze locked with Tommy’s all the way down the aisle.
The music faded out, then the family’s longtime minister asked, “Who gives this woman to be married to this man?”
Jefferson Lawrence eyed his daughter, seeming to ponder the question, until she whispered loudly, “Daddy!”
He chuckled but dutifully said, “Her mother and I.” He lifted Angie’s veil a bit, kissed her, then presented her to Tommy and took a seat next to his teary-eyed wife of thirty-two years.
Melina went through the motions. She passed the groom’s ring to the minister without fumbling, then handed back Angie’s white-tulip bouquet after the celebratory kiss, during which Tommy bent her over to much laughter and applause. Then Melina slipped her hand into the crook of the best man’s arm and followed the newly weds up the aisle, leading a parade of bridesmaids decked out in lemon-colored chiffon gowns escorted by ushers trying not to trip over the voluminous dresses.
Because everyone was standing, Rafe was blocked from Melina’s view until she was a few feet away. For years, she’d anticipated running into him again. He wasn’t supposed to look this good, this sexy. This tempting.
And he’d come alone.
And everyone there knew their history, used to have bets on how it would turn out. Now what would happen? Melina feared she’d be back in the spotlight again, with Rafe an unwilling focus as well.
The guests departed for the reception at the nearby Blue Sage Inn, then a lot of picture-taking ensued before white limos carried the bridal party to the reception. The festivities were well under way with music, appetizers and an open bar.
Because the early March day had crept into the low eighties, many guests had wandered into the courtyard from the main room, but Melina spotted Rafe instantly. He was crouched down, talking to Gramps, who looked so different without his usual Stetson and Wranglers, wearing a tux instead, his horse long ago replaced by a cane, and for today, a motorized wheelchair.
“You’re awfully jumpy,” Angie said to Melina as the wedding party sat down at the head table. “Aren’t you having a good time?”
Melina kept her tone neutral, not an easy task when all around her people were looking from Melina to Rafe and back again. “You invited Rafe.”
Her sister’s lips compressed. “It’s my wedding. I get to invite who I want.”
“I hadn’t realized you were still friends.”
“We’ve stayed in touch.” She clinked her water glass to Tommy’s, kissed him then looked at Melina again. “Now that he’s moved home, I thought he’d like a chance to reconnect with old friends.”
Shock jolted Melina. “Moved home? To Red Rock?” Her breath felt trapped in her throat.
“A few weeks ago. He bought the old Dillon house, but his office is in San Antonio.” She smiled. “He looks good, doesn’t he?”
Yes, he looks good. He was a man now, not a boy, and it showed in every inch of him, from his stylish hair to his sharper facial features to his powerful body, fitted into a perfectly tailored dark gray suit.
“He’s aged really well, don’t you think?” Angie asked.
“Aged?” Melina replied, stunned. “We were born the same year, you know. Twenty-nine isn’t exactly over the hill.”
Their younger sister, Stephanie, leaned past Melina and said, “It is when you’re a single woman.” She elbowed Melina. “I know you’re famous for your patience, Mellie, but sometimes it’s better just to grab hold, you know, not keep waiting for the perfect man. And I do have to agree with Ang. I mean, just look at Rafe. He’s like a dark prince stepped out of a grown-up fairy tale.”
“That’s quite a label, Steph,” Melina said, although agreeing about his physical perfection. His perfect height. His thick, black hair, those deep, brown, smoldering eyes that could coax out all her secrets …
“But he’s a lawyer, not a prince, and life isn’t a fairy tale. Except for Angie’s,” she added, lifting her glass, putting on a smile, not wanting to take away even the tiniest bit of her pleasure. “To your happily-ever-after beginning.”
After dinner, the official toasts were made and the cake cut, then the dancing began. Rafe still hadn’t left. He danced several times, but never twice with the same woman, and he never approached Melina. She partnered with the best man, Tommy’s twin brother, Jay, then with several ushers, and eventually her father, who was having a great time in the role of father of the bride. It was the kind of arena in which the boisterous cattle broker shined.
“You fixin’ to say hello to your former fiancé?” her father asked as they danced, his disapproving tone apparent.
Melina stopped short of rolling her eyes. He never pulled punches. “I wasn’t planning on it, but I won’t be rude, either.”
“Best you don’t go opening up those wounds, girl.”
“I don’t intend to.”
“Then maybe you should stop giving him the eye, so he doesn’t think otherwise.”
She wasn’t aware she’d been giving him the eye. In fact, she’d been trying not to, since everyone in the room seemed to be holding their breath for something to happen between them, some kind of contact. Any kind of contact. Almost everyone knew what their plans had been. They’d wanted to buy the old Crockett building on south Main, open their law practice downstairs and create an apartment upstairs, at least until the second baby came—with two more to follow. The building was still there, but the plans had gone up in smoke years ago. It had finally stopped hurting to drive past it.
“A lot of water has flowed under the bridge since we broke up, Dad,” she said, putting the past in its place.
“Since he broke up. I remember how long the tears lasted.”
She remembered, too, almost as if it were yesterday. Total heartbreak was hard to forget. “I was nineteen. I can handle things better now.” Or could she? She’d only imagined coming face-to-face with him before. The truth was entirely different. He still made her heart pound—which could also be all the pent-up anger she’d held for years.
“You haven’t been serious about a boy since Rafe.”
“I’ve had my share of fun, Dad, believe me.” She had, too, but she’d kept her relationships light and short-term on purpose. She didn’t ever want to grieve over a man like that again. Her pride had taken an enormous beating. Once was enough. People should learn from their mistakes. And she’d definitely learned. “Who needs serious, anyway, Dad?”
“That’s my girl. The only thing I take seriously is your mother, and that’s worked just fine for me.” He whirled her around. Always the best dancer on the floor, he guided her through a series of steps practiced and memorized through the years. Her mood lightened. She stopped wondering what Rafe was thinking and why he was hanging around at a wedding reception, which didn’t seem like something he would do, given a choice.
Then suddenly he was gone, having disappeared during The Chicken Dance. Smart man, she thought. If she could’ve slipped out, she would have, too, especially since she wore a dress that required holding it off the floor so that she wouldn’t trip and yet still somehow flap her arms. She was pleased and relieved that Rafe wasn’t watching. Knowing he’d gone left her free to be silly instead of sophisticated like him, big-time attorney that he was.
She tried to picture him acting like a chicken in his power suit and tie and his pristine white shirt, an image she couldn’t conjure up. She wondered if his hair ever looked less than perfect.
A long, long time ago, things like that had mattered little to him.
And a long, long time ago, she had mattered a lot.
Rafe leaned against a tree, hiding out with a few other guests who’d made a quick exodus upon realizing what song was starting up. He and the others grinned conspiratorially at their narrow escape but otherwise waited in silence, not wanting to call attention to themselves and be dragged back in.
From where he stood, Rafe could see the entire room in all its festive glory. The bridesmaids were especially easy to spot. If their gowns had been white, they would’ve resembled melting marshmallows, like Angie.
She seemed so young. Last year at his mother’s funeral she’d looked somber, her clothes dark and sedate, as expected for the occasion. Now she looked like a starlet at a Hollywood premiere, all bright and sparkly. She was twenty-two years old and married.
Rafe’s glance slid to Melina as she danced, stumbling a little, the best man catching her before she fell. If all had gone according to Rafe and Melina’s plan, they also would’ve been married right after college graduation. They would have traveled a little before starting law school. Down the road they’d planned to open their own practice—together. Later, when the time was right, they would’ve started a family. It was all mapped out.
Their plan had been set into motion when they were fourteen. He had lived in Red Rock all his life, but the Lawrence family had come to town when Melina was a freshman. Rafe fell in love with her the first time he’d laid eyes on her. For him, that was it. He’d never strayed. The Mendoza men were known for their passion—about life, work and their women—and Melina had loved him hard and completely in return.
Rafe had never doubted that love. At least not until she’d made choices without talking to him. His passion hadn’t died, it had shifted—away from her, from them, and into his career instead.
It seemed like a lifetime ago. Was a lifetime ago. He’d followed the plan, finding more success than he’d dreamed possible, thanks to some lucky breaks, good timing and a few smart, risky choices. Melina had made a one-eighty turn in another career direction. He wondered if she had regrets about that, if she’d reacted emotionally instead of logically then couldn’t—or stubbornly, wouldn’t—go back.
The gimmicky dance ended. Rafe watched Melina fan herself, her cheeks flushed, her blond hair tumbling free around her shoulders, the swell of her breasts glistening. She was even more beautiful now as a woman than—
She headed straight toward him, across the room, then through the exit to the courtyard. The air had cooled, night settling in. She stopped, closed her eyes, breathed deeply. Rafe inched farther into the shadows, away from the soft glow of thousands of tiny decorative lights that turned the space into a kind of fairyland.
He didn’t know what to say to her. Words usually came easily to him, but he had no idea how to start a conversation with the woman he’d once loved, the one who’d hurt him more than he’d ever thought anyone could.
He’d intended to leave the reception before now, to get away from the possibility of making small talk with her. He didn’t know why he hadn’t taken off, especially since he knew only a handful of people beyond the Lawrence family, who didn’t seem to care much about talking to him, anyway.
He’d been debating going to see Melina ever since he moved back, had even checked out her Facebook page, knowing he needed answers after all these years so that he could find that “closure” that people talked about, needing it in order to move on with his life. Especially now that he intended to make Red Rock his home again.
Melina opened her eyes then, keying in on him as if she’d known all along he’d been watching her.
“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 unchanged.”
“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.
“You want to pursue legal action against Beau?” he asked.
“We don’t see an alternative.”
“And you want me to handle it.” Not a question but a statement of fact. She wouldn’t have come to see him except that she was fighting for this little boy and didn’t have anyone else to turn to. It was the second time since he’d moved back to Texas that he’d been sought for skills outside his specialty.
“Please,” she said.
“Mel, I haven’t done anything but corporate work since I finished law school. The Americans with Disabilities Act is way outside my expertise. I’m not even sure this is an ADA case.”
“You always were a quick study.”
He almost laughed. The idea was ludicrous. And yet here she sat all calm and businesslike, except for the fire in her eyes, as if daring him. Like in the old days …
She stood, her eyes gone dull. “Never mind. Apparently you prefer making more money for already rich tycoons than helping one little boy with an almost impossible dream.” She glanced pointedly at a glass case on the wall filled with baseball trophies from his days as a player, T-ball through college. Nothing she said could speak more loudly to him than that one look.
She walked to the door, grabbed the handle.
“I’ll do it,” he said. “Or at least, I’ll see if I can do anything. I need to research a few things first. But maybe even more important, Melina? You need to consider that my getting involved could work against what you’re looking for. You know my history with Beau.”
“If I had other options, I would use them.”
He reached behind her and opened the door to the waiting room. “Vonda, how does my schedule look for tomorrow?”
“You’re free after two o’clock.”
Rafe looked at Melina. “I’d like to meet the Andersons. Do you think they could come in tomorrow at two?”
“I’m sure they’ll move heaven and earth to be here. I’ll call you if they can’t, but I don’t think that’s likely. Should Elliot come, too?”
“Yes. I need to see him for myself.”
“They don’t have much money,” she said quietly.
“Okay.”
“Thank you. Listen, I’ve got a ton of material on Asperger’s. I could drop off a couple of books at your house. Leave them on your porch sometime today, if you want,” she said as they headed to the entry door.
“That’d be good.”
“Angie said you bought the old Dillon house.”
“It needs work, but my dad and brothers are helping when they can.” They stepped into an empty, quiet hallway, the door shutting behind them.
“I didn’t think you’d ever move back,” she said.
“Me, either.” He didn’t elaborate on his reasons. “So, Beau’s gotten fat, huh?” he asked.
Her brows went up at the change of subject, then she nodded. “Beer belly.”
“Drowning his sorrows.”
“You’re probably right. I’ll see you tomorrow, Rafe,” she said, then left, the unfamiliar perfume he’d smelled on her at the wedding trailing enticingly in her wake.
Rafe returned to his office and closed the door. He couldn’t read her. If she hadn’t needed someone to plead Elliot’s case, would she have contacted him?
Probably not.
He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a small box. He’d always kept it in a place where he could look at it frequently, reminding him how tenuous love could be, but he hadn’t looked inside for a while. He did so now, revealing a small, pretty promise ring he’d given Melina their first Christmas at college, only to have it mailed back to him some months later, a one-word note included. The tangible, devastating memory of a promise broken.
He didn’t owe her anything, even if she was still the one he’d never gotten out of his system, and still the sexiest woman he’d ever met. But he could do this. He would try to help young Elliot but also wipe the slate clean with Melina.
He would be able to get rid of the ring, get it out of sight and out of mind.
Then he would finally be free to move on.
Chapter Three
Rafe pulled into his garage a little after seven o’clock that evening. He saw the living room lights were on even before he spotted his father’s pickup. He was probably sanding woodwork, a tedious process on the way to restoring the hundred-year-old house in a neighborhood where the homes were old but well maintained. Rafe had recently furnished one of his four bedrooms for his father, who’d become a fixture, not always spending the night, but staying often enough to warrant a bed of his own. Luis Mendoza had seemed to age ten years since losing his wife, Rafe’s mother, to pneumonia a year ago.
Rafe unlocked the back door and stepped into a dark kitchen, turning on lights as he went.
“Hey, Dad, I’m home!” he called out above the sound of sandpaper scraping wood.
“In the living room!”
There was no evidence that his father had eaten—no dishes, no jumbled-up McDonald’s bag in the trash. Rafe passed through the dining room and on into the living room. “How’s it going?”
“Almost ready to stain.” From where he was kneeling he arched his back, stretching and groaning.
That’s how I’ll look in thirty years, Rafe thought, although the same could be true of his three brothers, as well. Their mother’s DNA showed up in other ways—drive, work ethic, sociability and deep love of family, but that could also be said of their father, too. Rafe missed his mom more than he could say, so he could only imagine the depth of his father’s loss.
Rafe had expected to have the kind of marriage his parents had—with Melina. He still grieved the loss of that dream, and the children who hadn’t come.
Rafe laid his suit jacket over the back of his leather sofa then crouched next to his father and rubbed his back. “How long have you been at it?”
“Couple hours.” He angled away from Rafe’s touch and gestured to the entryway table. “Melina stopped by, left you some books and a DVD.”
“She said she would.” Rafe checked out the materials. The DVD was marked “Elliot Anderson.” He took the disc out of the case and headed to his television. “I haven’t eaten yet, have you?”
“Nope.” Luis stood. When he turned sideways he almost disappeared. He’d probably lost thirty pounds, twenty of which he couldn’t afford to lose. “Is that the way the wind’s blowing these days? Melina Lawrence again?”
“It’s a business thing. I might be helping her out with something.”
“She was gone for your mother’s funeral, but she came to see me as soon as she got back.” He brushed wood dust from his shirt. “I don’t understand why she hasn’t gotten married yet. She’s about the best catch in Red Rock, that’s for sure. Doesn’t know how beautiful she is. Loves people. Smile that lights up the world.”
Rafe hadn’t seen much of that famous smile since he’d returned, but he remembered it, as well as the slow, sexy one she’d perfected, the one he’d likened to her crooking a come-hither finger at him.
“I’m surprised you’re even talking to her, though, son. You suffered a lot.”
“Everyone moves on, Dad. You seem to be okay around her.”
“For me, sure. But not for you. I don’t want to see you hurt again.”
“I’m okay. But thanks for the support.”
He slid the DVD into the player then hit the start button. The quality wasn’t bad, but the camera was a pretty good distance away.
“That Beau Bandero?” his father asked, coming up beside Rafe.
“In the flesh.”
“A lot of flesh, too. Heard he’s been drinking a lot. It shows— Did he just hit that kid?”
Rafe didn’t answer, wanting to hear the exchange between Beau and Elliot, which happened just as Melina had described. “What do you think, Dad? Intentional?”
“Don’t know. Play it again.”
They both watched intently, then watched it again. One more time. “I can’t tell,” Rafe said.
“Beau’s got his problems, but I don’t think hitting a kid with a ball is something he’d do.”
Rafe eyed his father curiously. “You’ve always championed Beau.”
Luis shrugged and moved away, picking up his sanding tools. “I know what he had to put up with at home. Mr. Bandero was hard on him. Working at his ranch, I saw it all the time.”
“Well, Beau’s lucky that people aren’t willing to drive their kids to San Antonio to play ball. Some parents will put up with a lot to have their kid trained by a former big leaguer.” Rafe turned off the DVD without ejecting it, figuring he’d watch it a few more times later. “I’m going to heat up some leftover pizza. Sit down, Dad. Put your feet up for a while. You don’t need to work all day at the ranch then exhaust yourself here.”
“It’s the only way I can sleep,” his father said softly, dropping onto the sofa, his shoulders slumped.
Rafe closed his eyes in gratitude. Finally. Finally, he wasn’t hiding his pain.
“I miss your mother so much. The nights are too quiet, and the mornings too empty.” He made an effort to smile. “Been thinking about getting a dog.”
Rafe sat next to him. “Why don’t you just move in with me? You know there’s plenty of room.”
“I need to be at the ranch. Mr. Bandero’s been very patient with me, but everyone seems to think that because it’s been a year, it’s time. That I should be recovered.”
“Not everyone understands that recovery is individual, Dad.” Although Rafe had also been hoping that by now his father would be emerging from mourning.
“That’s what Melina said, too. She also said I should tell you how I’m feeling.” He shrugged. “Figured you knew, actually.”
“It’s hard to miss the signs. You’ve lost too much weight.”
“Your mom was the ranch cook, and a good one. I can’t bear to sit down at the table to eat someone else’s cooking, son.”
“I get that. Which is why I think you should live with me. We’ll take care of each other.”
“Wouldn’t that cramp your style with the women?”
“I’m as celibate as you.”
“That won’t last for long.” He put his hands on his knees and shoved himself up. “I think I’ll skip dinner and head back to the ranch. Thanks for listening.”
“Nope. Dinner first, then you can leave.”
Luis crossed his arms. “You’re a pushy kid.”
“Yeah? Who taught me to be that?”
“Your mother.”
Rafe laughed, slung an arm over his father’s shoulders and headed to the kitchen, the only completely remodeled room in the house. He lingered over pizza and beer with his dad, getting him to open up more, trying to figure out if there was a way to help his father then deciding he was already doing it. He’d made the right decision, moving back to Red Rock, being there for his dad, which mattered even more than Rafe had thought.
After his father drove away, Rafe watched the video again. He sat on the sofa and opened one of the books Melina had dropped off, but he couldn’t focus on it, and he’d already researched a lot himself.
Seeing Beau on video brought back memories Rafe had put aside. He didn’t want to think about them now, either, didn’t want the memories to affect what he did regarding Elliot. Rafe and Beau had been baseball rivals since they were kids, the intensity fierce and unrelenting, but Rafe needed to ignore that for now. Would Beau do the same?
Restless, Rafe took off for a walk. Although Red Rock had grown substantially since he was a child, it was still a small town, easy to negotiate on foot. He came to Red, the restaurant owned by his aunt and uncle. The classy eatery was closed on Monday, so Rafe didn’t stop. A little farther down the street he came across Melina’s office, a small, rustic storefront with a shingle that read simply Red Rock Occupational Therapy Group, Melina Lawrence and Quanah Ruiz, AOTA-Certified Therapists, Specializing in Stroke Rehabilitation and Autism Spectrum Disorders.
The blinds were shut, but Rafe had glanced inside once before and knew it had a small lobby where Angie worked as administrative assistant, and a doorway leading to whatever other office space was in the back.
By asking around a little, he learned that Melina lived around the corner in a twelve-unit townhouse complex, her two-bedroom end unit purchased less than a year ago. What he didn’t know was her phone number.
He’d been headed to her place when he’d left his house. He just hadn’t admitted it to himself.
Rafe used his cell phone to call Information, but she wasn’t listed. He tucked his phone back in his pocket then kept walking until he was in front of her building. Lights were still on downstairs, but he really couldn’t just drop in on her.
Or could he?
It was nine-thirty. Was that too late? He hesitated a little longer, then decided to go home. He had questions for her and had planned to catch her at her office the next day before the meeting with the Andersons. It was better to just stick with the plan.
Rafe took about ten steps, stopped, then turned around and made his way into the courtyard of her complex, ignoring the chastising voice in his head. Steam rose from a narrow, rectangular, lighted pool. Someone was swimming laps, but it couldn’t be Melina, because she had a paralyzing fear of the water after a childhood experience.
He moved around the courtyard as unobtrusively as possible, spotted the door to her unit then hesitated again. He had no idea how she would react to his just dropping in, yet for a reason he couldn’t articulate, he wanted to know.
“Rafe?”
He spun around. Melina was resting her arms on the pool’s edge, staring at him.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“You’re swimming,” he said in amazement, moving closer. “You never even liked bathtubs.”
“Hand me my towel, would you?” she asked, pointing to one on a chair nearby. She swam to the steps and climbed out, her bright blue one-piece suit clinging like a second skin, her breasts firm, her nipples hard, her wet skin shiny.
He’d almost forgotten how perfectly built she was, not lithe and athletic but curvy and lush. They hadn’t slept together all that many times, at least not overnight, but he’d loved being able to wrap himself around her in bed and touch her whenever he wanted. The few times they’d been able to afford a motel room, it’d seemed as if they’d made love more times than there were hours in the night. Otherwise, their dorm rooms had allowed for only quick get-togethers, pleasurable but not as satisfying.
Now, standing in front of her, Rafe opened her towel and draped it around her. He was more than a little tempted to pull her against him and rub her through the towel to dry her off.
“What are you doing here?” she asked again, not moving away but wariness settling in her eyes.
“I was out for a walk.”
Still she didn’t try to put space between them, as if frozen in place. He took it as a sign, inching closer, memories of her consuming him. His gaze dropped to her parted lips, her breath coming softly, quickly. He bent toward her….
Melina spun away from him. “Let’s go inside,” she said, pulling her towel tightly around her, then pressing the button for the electric pool cover.
Her body ached for him even as she called herself every kind of idiot. She’d almost kissed him, almost forgotten why they weren’t together. If she hadn’t come to her senses— She didn’t even want to think about it.
Melina was trembling as she walked to her house, cold from the night air, but she’d also pushed herself hard in the pool. Seeing Rafe this morning had set her on edge all day. Caught between the past and present, she’d barely been able to focus on anything. Even Big John had called her on it—and if a sixty-two-year-old cantankerous stroke recovery patient noticed, it was a sure thing that everyone else she’d worked with today would’ve seen a different Melina.
“I’ll be right back,” she said to Rafe once they were inside her living room, then she hurried up the stairs to her bedroom, stripped off her suit and grabbed her jeans and a sweatshirt.
In a hurry, she knocked her robe off the hook in the closet. Her gaze landed on the framed letter that had hung under her robe. The letter he’d sent all those years ago. She’d finally stopped noticing it—until just this moment. Now it seemed to have its own spotlight.
She didn’t have to read it to know what it said, as it was burned in her memory. She’d framed and hung it to remind her of what could happen if she let someone hold her heart, as he had done.
She closed her eyes for a few seconds. He hadn’t even called her. After all those years, all that love, and he hadn’t even felt that he owed her a phone call ending their relationship.
It all came back to her in one stab-in-the-heart moment—all the pain, all the loneliness, all the anger. And now she had to go downstairs and face him as if nothing was wrong.
It’s been ten years, she reminded herself. You’re not the same person. He isn’t, either. Let it go. Just let it go.
She towel-dried her hair, stared in the mirror for a few seconds, then padded downstairs. He was thumbing through the yearbook she’d left on the coffee table.
“It seems so long ago.” Rafe straightened, no discernible emotion on his face, even though she remembered that the book had been open to the homecoming photos, when they were crowned king and queen.
“A lot of life has happened since then, that’s for sure,” she said casually. “Would you like something to drink?”
“I’m okay, thanks.”
She went into the kitchen, separated from the living room by an open bar counter. She poured herself a glass of water, more to keep distance between them than because of any real thirst.
“When’d you learn to swim?” he asked, leaning against the countertop.
“A couple of years ago. I’d watched so many people conquer fears in order to recover from debilitating diseases or injuries that I decided it was hypocritical of me not to defeat my own.” Of course, she’d also advised a lot of her patients to forgive those people responsible for causing them pain and yet she had never forgiven Rafe—which was also hypocritical. The framed letter was proof of that. “It took me over a year of lessons twice a week.”
“Good for you. So, the nightmares stopped, too?”
“For the most part. I can still see my cousin drowning, but now I see myself diving in and saving her instead of standing by helplessly.”
“You were five years old when it happened, Melina.”
“I know.” And the impact of the experience had changed her life for years. She’d never spent a hot summer day in the river as a teenager. Never even splashed in a kiddie pool as a child.
Melina set down her water glass. “Why are you here?”
He didn’t answer right away, as if gauging her mood. She knew how to keep her expression blank, even though she wanted him to leave. She didn’t want to picture him in her house—or to give in to temptation again. Because no matter how much pain still lingered, she couldn’t escape the attraction that was still there, powerful and tempting. She’d wanted to kiss him by the pool. Turning away had been close to impossible.
“I had a few questions before we meet with the Andersons tomorrow,” he said. “I would’ve called but I didn’t have your number.”
“Yet you know where I live.”
“Some information is easier to obtain than others. I’m guessing you don’t have a landline, that you use only your cell? Anyway, can you find out when the team is practicing again? And is there a way you could get me a team roster, as well?”
“I’ll put my spies to work on it.” She crossed her arms. “Anything else?”
A few beats passed. “If this is making you uncomfortable, I can call you tomorrow at your office.”
She looked at the counter for a moment. She could so easily slip back into the part of their relationship that had worked so well—talking. At least until the very end. Until then they’d talked all the time, about anything and everything. She’d missed that so much, even the occasional argument.
“It’s just weird, Rafe. I haven’t seen you in all these years, and then …” She gestured toward the pool and their almost-kiss. “We need to keep it just business between us. So, do you have more questions?”
He slid his hands into his pockets, signaling something, but she wasn’t sure what.
“In your professional opinion, should we be fighting for Elliot to play ball? Will he be able to do okay at it?”
“His having Asperger’s won’t prevent ultimate success, but it will take him longer to learn and he needs more intensive, individual work, which his father has been giving him.”
“For batting, you said. But what about the other skills, like catching and fielding?”
“I honestly don’t know. I only know that he can’t learn to be part of a team without being on a team. It’s the socialization process that’s hard. But, most important, Elliot wants to be part of it. He’s enamored with the idea of playing ball. He says over and over that he wants to be with them, meaning the other kids.” Needing to do something, she set her glass in the sink. “That drive, that need, can take him far. He just requires more help than the average kid to get there. And perhaps success might be measured a little differently than with other children, but doesn’t he deserve that chance?”
“Are you sure you didn’t go to law school, after all?” he asked.
She didn’t appreciate the reminder, but she didn’t call him on it. “I hope that means I’ve swayed you, because he needs an impartial advocate.”
“I’ll let you know tomorrow after I’ve met him and his parents, and dug around a little more.”
When she didn’t respond, he glanced at her kitchen clock. “I’d better get going. If you can get that info and fax or email it to me before we meet, I’d appreciate it.”
She nodded, then followed him to the front door, noting how he’d taken one last glance at the yearbook, in the same way she had with his trophy case in his office. He was holding back, just as she was, she realized. There were things that needed saying, and at some point they would have to be said.
But first things first. Elliot was more important than long-buried emotions. It wasn’t like her to hold so much inside, but it was necessary this time.
She held the front door open as Rafe stepped outside. One safety light stayed spotlighted on the pool all night, even though a decorative metal fence prevented anyone from accidentally falling in.
“Did you get the material I left with your dad?” she asked.
“I’ve already watched the DVD several times. I wish it was more definitive.” He turned to face her. She was unable to read his expression. “Good night, Melina.”
Her throat closed. The way her porch light spilled onto him took her back to all the times they’d kissed good-night by her front door. She hadn’t known disappointment then—or loss. She’d come to hate him since then for that.
And yet she wanted to haul him upstairs and make love with him.
She’d heard it said that there was a fine line between love and hate. Walking that tightrope between those two emotions was too risky, especially without a net.
“Good night,” she said, then shut the door, burdened with doubt that she could work with him, but knowing she had no choice.
For Elliot’s sake she had to put her personal feelings aside for now.
For her sake she needed to lock those feelings away forever.
Chapter Four
Melina had just finished making the introductions the next day at Rafe’s office when Elliot Anderson, who’d taken a seat on the sofa between his parents, hopped back up and rushed to the glass case on Rafe’s wall. “Wow! Look at all the trophies, Dad. They’re awesome!”
Steve Anderson sent a look of amusement to Rafe then followed his son, coming up behind him. He was a smaller version of his father, both sporting matching crew cuts.
Rafe joined them, grateful for the icebreaker of the trophies. “I see you’re an Alex Rodriguez fan, Elliot. That’s a cool jersey you’ve got on.”
“A-Rod, yeah. Number thirteen. First-round pick of the 1993 draft. He never went to college. The Seattle Mariners signed him. Then the Texas Rangers. My dad took me to see him play but I was too little to remember. I got pictures, though. The New York Yankees got him now. His batting average is—”
“Not now, Elliot,” his father said. “We’re here to talk to Mr. Mendoza.”
“I know. We looked him up on Google.” Energy and excitement burst from him. “Rafe Mendoza was a pitcher for Red Rock High School. His senior year his ERA was 2.28. His batting average was .432. He got forty-six RBIs and six home runs. He struck out 205 and walked forty-two. He went to college at the University of Michigan on a baseball scholarship. His ERA was—”
“Elliot, this is Rafe Mendoza.”
“I know, Dad. He had 362 at bats, and—”
“Would you like to hold one of the trophies, Elliot?” Rafe asked. Melina had told him that the best way stop a running commentary was to redirect him.
“Yes!” He bounced up and down. “Can I choose which one? I want that one,” he said, indicating the very large MVP trophy from Rafe’s senior year at Michigan.
“How about one you can hold in your lap instead?” Rafe asked, pulling down a smaller but fancier trophy, one with brass pennants and other game paraphernalia replicas.
“Okay!”
“Go sit next to Mom,” Steve Anderson said.
Elliot ran to the couch, leaped into the air, turning at the same time, and plopped, grinning. He accepted the trophy and began to examine every inch of it.
Rafe moved his chair in front of his desk, removing the barrier that sometimes stifled conversation. “I hear you’re a good baseball player yourself, Elliot.”
“My batting average is .754. That’s higher than Rafe Mendoza. My dad is teaching me how to pitch.”
“Do you like to pitch?”
“Yes, yes, yes. But I like to hit more. My batting average is .754.”
“Can you catch fly balls?”
“Sometimes.” He seemed to be studying something in particular on the trophy. “I have to wear sunglasses. I like to wear sunglasses. I like to wear uniforms, too, like the other kids. I want to be on the team.”
“What’s your favorite thing about baseball?”
“I want to be with the kids.” He stopped examining the trophy and looked at the prize case again. “I want pictures like that on my wall to look at all the time.”
There were several team photos in the case—Rafe’s high school and college teams, all-star games, too. He understood Elliot’s desire to be part of something that united people in a common effort, one that brought acceptance and camaraderie. Until Rafe had moved back to Red Rock, he’d been part of some business teams in Ann Arbor, as corporate counsel. Going solo was taking some getting used to.
Rafe asked a few more questions, received enthusiastic and hopeful answers, then he wanted to speak to the parents without Elliot present. Melina offered to wait in the lobby with him, but his mother took him, instead, saying that her husband could speak for both of them.
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