Mendoza's Return

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.