Mendoza's Return (11 page)

“I loved every minute of it.”

“I know. I did, too, once I found my calling and started studying in the right field. Not that caring for Grandma Rose was easy. It wasn't. It was really, really hard, physically and emotionally. Plus Gramps was difficult to deal with. He was so afraid he would lose her. A year later, when she did die, he went into
such deep mourning we thought he'd never come out of it. As I'm sure you've heard, I stayed on at his house for a year more.”

“He seems to be okay now.”

“He put up quite a fuss when I told him I was moving out, but it was past time. Mom and Dad have offered to have him live with them, and I imagine he'll do that at some point. I'm not sure how well Mom will make that transition.” Melina smiled at the idea. Her father was hard enough to live with. “It was good of you to invite your father to live with you.”

“It's hard to see your parent become scared, or worse, dependent.” He laid his hand on her feet and squeezed. “I guess I finally understand what drove you to take such a drastic step, to quit college to care for your grandma.”

“Do you? I don't think I even really understood then. I just knew someone had to help, and I seemed to be the only one available. It wasn't until a couple of weeks ago, after you got back, and I started reflecting on it all, that I realized once and for all that I wasn't cut out to be a lawyer. I wouldn't have been any good at it. I rationalized my leaving school because of my grandparents, when it was just as much my own desire.” Her eyes stung at the admission. “See? I'm selfish, after all.”

She took a breath, then said what she'd been needing to say for years. “Being away from you was hard enough while I was helping them 24/7, but having
you break up with me at the same time just about did me in.”

He let go of her feet. His jaw went hard. “A lot of people have alluded to the fact I broke up with you. Melina. I've kept quiet about it because I wasn't the one living here, and I understood you wanted to keep people's good opinion of you. But since we both know that's not how it happened, maybe it's time you at least acknowledge that for me, if no one else.”

His anger was palpable. She felt the heat of it travel to her, adding to her own. “What do you mean, you didn't break up with me?”

“You think I did?”

What a ridiculous question. “Of course I do. I even have proof.”

He sat up straight. “Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

“Prove it.”

“You don't know? Seriously?”

“If I knew, I wouldn't ask. You say you have proof. I want to see it.”

She pushed herself up, her muscles bunched and taut. “I'll be happy to,” she said, then she ran upstairs as her heart pounded.

The time had come.

R
afe got up, as well, then didn't know what to do with himself, so he went into her kitchen and poured a glass of water, standing at the sink to drink it.

This hadn't been what he'd had in mind when he'd suggested they just talk tonight. He'd wanted to know about the past ten years. He'd wanted to know about her work. He hadn't wanted to dig into the painful ending of their relationship.…

Except it had to come out sometime, and the no-strings-affair wasn't working. It wasn't enough. So, it was time to clear the air—even if it muddied the waters.

She came down the stairs and directly into the kitchen, handing him a picture frame. But instead
of a photograph inside it, there was a typed note, a letter from him to her.

Melina, I don't know any other way to get through to you. I've been patient long enough. You've made decisions without taking me into consideration, and that says it all to me. So, I give up. I'm done. You made your choice. Good luck with that. Rafe

He remembered every detail of the note now that he'd seen it again, reliving every emotion. Anger and betrayal surged through him anew as he realized what he held. “You framed it? You framed my note?”

She crossed her arms. “Darn right I did.”

His jaw hurt, sending shards of pain down his body. “I see I was wrong. Your silence back then didn't say it all.
This
did.” He handed it back to her, then walked toward her door, not looking back.

Suddenly she was there, behind him. “Oh, sure. Walk out. At least this time it's in person, not by letter.”

He spun around, trying to rein in his temper. She'd framed his note. Of all the— “That letter was a damned sight more effort than you ever put in. The least you could have done was return my calls. Even just one call.”

Her brows drew together. “What? When?”

“Oh, come on, Melina. Be honest, at least. I called for weeks.”

“Only a couple of times.”

Fury teemed in him. No one ever questioned his integrity. “Many times. Why would I lie to you? You
didn't own a cell phone then, but I left messages. I talked with your grandfather.
You
never called me back. Not to tell me what was going on, or how your grandmother was doing, or even when you were coming back to school. Nothing.”

She shook her head. “My grandfather would have told me. I only remember two calls.”

“I
called.
A lot. Then when I gave up and sent you the letter, all you did was send me back the promise ring in the mail, with a note that just said
okay,
I might add.”

She crossed her arms. “I was too hurt.”

“You think I wasn't? I went through hell.”

They stared at each other, tension crackling between them.

“I guess it shows how wrong we were for each other,” she said, voicing aloud what he'd just figured out. “It would've ended at some point. Maybe not that soon or painfully, but sometime.”

“Unlike you, I never saw my future without you in it,” he said honestly. “You were all I wanted.”

“You think I didn't feel the same? I applied to Michigan because of you. I didn't want to leave home, but, even more, I didn't want to leave you.”

His gut clenched. “Why is this the first I'm hearing about that? Why didn't you tell me?”

She threw up her hands. “I was young and in love. You convinced me that it would be an adventure, and it was, but not in a good way for me. And, honestly, I would've made a lousy lawyer.”

“So you grasped at the first opportunity to come back home instead of telling me, and letting us deal with it together?”

“I was eighteen years old! I'd been sheltered all my life, Rafe. I got scared. You were enjoying yourself, and I wasn't. I could see myself getting clingier all the time. You even made a comment about it.”

Rafe thought back, recalling a vague memory that she'd become more and more dependent on him. “I didn't know it was that serious.”

“I didn't know, either. I couldn't make sense of it. I just knew I was worried all the time. So, yes, I guess I did use my grandmother as an opportunity to come home again. But I loved you, and missed you.”

I loved you.
Past tense. He didn't know why it hurt so much to hear it put like that. “So you're saying you were too immature?”

“Without a doubt. Not that I acknowledged it then, but I've done so much soul searching since you came back. In retrospect, a lot has come clear to me. All these things I've just told you are new to me, too. I don't think I wanted to look back, and having you here forced me to.”

He saw desperation in her eyes, as if willing him to understand. As if begging to be held, too, but he was careful not to touch her, not knowing how he felt now. He looked at the framed letter again, and the stab of pain returned in full force. She'd kept the damn letter—
framed.
Who did that?

“I need time to sort this out,” he said and saw her
retreat, not physically, but emotionally. “I know we'll see each other because of Elliot.”

“Whatever.” She turned away.

He had to go. Had to get away from…everything. He didn't even say goodbye, but left. Outside the cool air felt good against his skin. Too restless to go home, Rafe drove to Red, hoping to catch his brother, not knowing his schedule for the week.

When there was no one up front to greet him, Rafe took a seat at the bar.

Wendy Fortune moseyed over. “It's a slow night. Marcos is running the bar as well as managing. He's in the kitchen, but he'll be out in a sec. Do you want something to eat?”

Did he? Even a drink didn't sound good, but he probably could use both. “How about a half order of nachos with chicken, please?”

“Sure thing.” She grinned at Marcos over her shoulder as he reached the bar, then she headed for the kitchen, her hips twitching a little more evidently.

“When are you going to admit you've got a thing for her?” Rafe asked his brother as he pulled a cold draft.

“The day you admit you've still got a thing for Melina.”

Rafe hesitated, then said, “Well, then you'd better start figuring out where to take Wendy on your first date.”

Marcos said nothing, but his mouth tightened. He waited as Rafe took a long sip.

Rafe finally set down the glass. “Remember when you said I should give you something harder to figure out?” he asked his brother.

Marcos leaned both arms against the bar. “I do.”

“Women, Marcos. I don't understand women.”

“What's going on?”

“I don't want to talk about it. I just want words of wisdom. Go ahead, speak in generalities.”

“Can't live with 'em. Can't live without sex. One of 'em has to give.”

“You're not helpful.”

“Give me specifics.”

Wendy came up with his order of nachos. “Woman trouble, Rafe?” she asked, her eyes full of sympathy.

Rafe stared back.

She patted his hand. “You men have perfected the look. Hangdog, you know?”

Hangdog? Him? That made him straighten up. She patted his hand again, turned a sparkly gaze on Marcos for a minute then strode off, humming to the classical guitar music always playing in the background.

“Don't start,” Marcos said. “Wendy and I had an argument right before you came in. She's impervious to criticism. She says no one has given her less than a twenty-percent tip, so she must be doing her job well.”

“If no one's complained, why do you care?”

Marcos stared off in the direction she'd gone.
“Beats me. Something about her drives me crazy. But let's get back to you.”

Rafe realized he needed to think things through for himself, not get feedback in generalities. He'd learned more about Melina in a couple of hours tonight than in the weeks they'd been seeing each other.

After a while he went home. Tonight they'd each revealed the truth as they'd seen it. Who was right? Both? Neither?

Did it even matter any more?

How did someone recover? Maybe it wasn't possible.

And maybe it was just time to accept that and move on.

 

Melina didn't sleep after he left, not well, anyway, or deeply. When her phone rang the next morning, she knew it would be him.

“I didn't sleep much,” he said.

“Me, either.”

A few unbearable seconds of silence followed, then, “I need to step away,” he said, breaking her heart. “I want to move forward, Melina. A sex-only relationship with you isn't going to make that happen.”

“I understand,” she said, not really understanding. But it was her turn to give him space. Maybe it would turn out differently from when
she'd
needed space all those years ago. “I'll see you at the ballpark.”

He didn't say anything, so she said, “Goodbye, Rafe,” her throat aching and eyes burning.

“Bye.”

“I love you,” she whispered after she'd hung up. “I'll always love you.” He was her mate, had always been her mate. It had taken time to see that, and some pain, too, but she couldn't deny the truth any longer. She loved him as a woman, not a girl. Forever. She wanted more than just sex, too.

She wouldn't settle for less.

Now she had to figure out how to win him back.

W
hen Melina arrived at her grandfather's house later that morning, he told her he was driving his truck, and she couldn't argue. He'd rigged a step device that let him to climb into the vehicle, then he could pull it into the cab and stow it in the backseat.

Melina settled into the passenger seat, Rafe still on her mind.

“What's got your ears floppin', missy?” her grand father asked as he started the engine.

“I'm okay.”

“Nope. I've seen the signs before. I'd say it's man trouble.”

The way he said it, dragging out the word “man,” made her laugh. “Maybe it's lack-of-man trouble,”
she said. “As in, being twenty-nine years old and not having a man.”

“Maybe. Doubt it, but maybe.” He navigated his driveway and started up the street. His truck was an automatic, so he didn't have to use a clutch. Melina wasn't sure he could have.

“Been a while since I drove ol' Trigger,” he said. “I forgot how heavy-handed he is.”

“You're the only man I know who doesn't refer to his vehicle as a she.”

“Some vehicles are
shes.
Some aren't. This one's reliable and powerful. Can't be female.”

Melina laughed again, the knots in her stomach loosening. “Do you feel ready for your driving test?”

“Don't have much choice, do I? It's two days off. Now or never. And I sure don't want somebody having to take me grocery shopping or whatever forever. Wouldn't feel like much of a man then, that's for sure.”

“We all wish you'd take Mom and Dad up on their offer to have you live with them.”

“Everyone except your mom and dad.” He gave her a sly glance. “Oh, sure, they offered. What decent son and daughter-in-law wouldn't? But they've only had an empty nest for a year. They're still on their second honeymoon.”

Melina hadn't thought of it like that. “You're very wise.”

“Supposed to be by now. Your grandma accused
me of arrested development for a long time, but I think I finally grew up.”

He reached the downtown, where traffic was a little more congested and he had to make decisions rather than just drive. He was doing better than when he drove her car. Maybe it was the familiarity.

“Want to head to San Antonio?” she asked. “You should probably get some freeway time in.”

“I know my limitations. I'll drive in Red Rock but no farther. No sense tempting fate.”

She wondered what had gotten into him. He was much more mellow today, was even seeing his future clearly. Maybe driving his truck again had been enough to restore his confidence.

He pulled into the grocery store parking lot. “I need a few things. Okay with you?”

“You can use your hour however you want to, Gramps.”

He aimed for a space close to the front of the store, then shut off the engine. Before she opened her door, she said, “Did Rafe come to see you?”

“No. Why would he?”

After a minute she shrugged. She'd hoped Rafe had come to the same conclusions she had during the night, especially once she'd calmed down enough to realize that he wouldn't lie to her. If he said he'd called, he had.

“Something you want to talk about, missy?”

Her heart started to pound hard, but she had to
know. “When I was living with you and Grandma, did Rafe call me? Did he leave messages?”

“'Course he did. I told you.”

“More than twice?” she asked, although she didn't think his answer would surprise her much.

He stared out the windshield. “Maybe a few more. But you specifically told me you didn't want to talk to him.”

“Not forever. I just needed some time to adjust.” She'd known that Rafe would try to talk her out of staying. She hadn't wanted to argue with him. She'd had enough on her plate.

“How was I supposed to know that?” Gramps asked.

She looked him in the eye, saying nothing, accusing him but also acknowledging her own part in what had happened.

“Okay,” he said. “I didn't want you to leave us. I couldn't help Rose on my own. I figured you'd high-tail it back to school—and Rafe—as soon as you could. I know it was wrong.”

“You think?” She thought of the framed letter, and humiliation washed over her. She'd been such a fool. She hadn't trusted him. How differently things would've turned out if she'd talked to him.

And yet, maybe not. He was right that she'd never called him, but had selfishly waited for him to do the calling—and then had thought he hadn't bothered. Maybe talking wouldn't have made any difference
at all. She hadn't wanted to face the truth—that she didn't want to go back to college.

They'd both been so young and foolish, with no life experience yet, no romantic experience except with each other.

“Are you and Rafe fighting because of what I did?” Gramps asked. “I'll go to him. Talk to him.”

“No.” She tempered the harsh word with, “Please don't. Promise you won't. This is between Rafe and me. Period.” What her grandfather had done was part of the problem but not all of it.

He look relieved. “I can promise you that.”

He spent the rest of his hour making nice to her, even being cooperative about following her directions to take a different route home, seeing if he could do it without getting lost. He did fine.

When they reached his house, everything was okay between them again.

“You're a good girl. Thank you for helping me,” he said.

“My pleasure, Gramps.” She kissed him goodbye and went on to see Big John, hoping he was in as mellow a mood as her grandfather. She really didn't feel like coaxing him today. She had too much on her mind. For example, now that she knew the truth about what had kept her and Rafe apart, what difference did it make? She'd already come to realize that they were both vastly different people now. Maybe they
would've been like June and Wade, getting a divorce, having outgrown each other.

Time would tell.

 

Later that afternoon Rafe met Debbie Anderson in the sports complex parking lot as usual. Elliot hopped out of her car.

“Hi, Rafe Mendoza!” he shouted as he ran around the rear of the car.

“Please tell Melina we talked to him,” Debbie said. “Keep reinforcing the fact he needs to remember he's on a team and they're counting on him, okay?”

“Got it. Hey, sport,” Rafe said to Elliot, who smiled more spontaneously than Rafe had ever seen. “All set?”

“Ready, set, go!”

“Bye, sweetie,” Debbie called out.

“Bye. Let's go, Rafe Mendoza.”

“Here comes Melina. We always wait for each other, remember?” Rafe didn't know what he could say to her. The fact she hadn't believed that he'd called her so many times weighed heavy. He'd thought they had a relationship based on trust. Everything he'd been learning lately indicated there was no truth to that. She'd never told him how she felt, how much she'd hated college. He didn't understand why she didn't feel she could tell him.

The problem was—he still wanted her. His need hadn't diminished since he was fourteen years old. He should have gotten past that by now. He could
control everything else in his life except his desire for her.

It's one of those relationships that's only physical,
he decided. No more, no less. And physical could be conquered, although probably only by not being around her. Which was impossible, given their connection through Elliot.

“Hi, guys,” Melina said, a little too brightly, as she jogged up to them, her gaze on Elliot.

“Let's play,” Elliot said. “Can I go to the field myself?”

Because he would be in their line of sight the whole time, there was no reason not to let him run, to be like the other boys—except it would leave Rafe and Melina alone. “Sure,” Rafe said, not willing to deny Elliot's request. “We'll catch up.”

Elliot took off running, not a smooth lope but a determined one. He'd already matured just in a few weeks.

Rafe and Melina walked silently side by side. He had nothing to say.

After a minute Melina said, “If you want to go ahead, feel free.”

“Thanks.” Relieved, he took off running. They had only two more team practices before opening day. He needed to focus on Elliot now. Only Elliot.

“Trouble in paradise?” Beau asked as Rafe reached home plate, where Beau stood, watching the boys warm up but obviously aware of tension between Rafe and Melina.

Rafe ignored him, peripherally aware of her settling in the dugout, where she pulled her cap low and tossed a ball into her glove, again and again and again, her usual activity during practice, even though she'd created a solid pocket in her glove by now.

“We need to talk about the boy,” Beau said, bringing Rafe to attention.

“What about him?”

“It doesn't look to me like he'll be ready next week.”

Rafe watched Elliot doing stretches with the rest of the team, his expression serious. Single-minded. “He'll be ready. And you need his bat. He's the best hitter you've got.”

“He also has to play defense for at least a couple of innings every game.”

“He's working hard, Beau. Give him a shot.”

“I need to win. You know that.”

“You need to have a heart, too. Just playing is a win for Elliot.”

Beau crossed his arms. He looked at the boys, not Rafe. “The other kids haven't taken to him.”

“I know. Relating is a tough skill for him. But I've seen some changes, and expect there will be more.”

“We'll see.”

Rafe started to walk away when Beau said, “It really was an accident, me hitting him. Because of my injury. I didn't want to admit it was hindering my game, even at this level.”

Rafe wasn't feeling sympathetic at this point. “Yeah? Well, don't use a kid as your scapegoat again.” He leaned close, tired of his life spinning out of control, needing to take action, to do something. “If you deny Elliot the right to play, you can expect to see us in court. I'll file a civil suit so fast your head will spin. Wouldn't be good PR, either, no matter how it ended.”

Rafe didn't feel any better for having chewed out Beau. Maintaining his cool was something that Rafe had gotten good at. Really good at. For all his good intentions, he wasn't moving forward, wasn't finding peace. It had all been made worse overnight, it seemed.

And there she sat in the dugout, a visible reminder of the havoc one woman could wreak on a man's life.

He needed to do something about that.

 

Melina barely watched the practice. She jabbed at the dirt floor with the toes of her sneakers, kicking up dust.

“Someone's not happy.” June took a seat beside Melina, eyeing her thoughtfully.

The last thing Melina wanted was for the town crier to have more gossip to spread. “Just restless. I wish I could be out on the field.”

June's brows went up.

“I know,” Melina said with a sigh. “In high school I was the world's biggest klutz. I've been helping Rafe
work with Elliot. Sometimes I can even catch a fly ball.” She smiled at the memory of her one catch, which had taken everyone by surprise—all of her family and Rafe's, who'd been recruited to help act as a team.

“That
would
be newsworthy,” June said, grinning.

“Ha-ha. So, are you still working on the story about Beau?”

“Yes. I've been able to take my time because the editor isn't running it until the season opens next week. He decided to put out a special issue just about Red Rock baseball. I've got most of the bylines.”

“Good for you, June.”

“You know what I've learned? There are four kids known to have Asperger's playing on various teams.”

Melina did know that. Two of them were Q's patients, but since they didn't have Beau as a coach, they didn't have as much to prove, plus they'd all played ball before. Just as important, they'd been living in town when registration closed, which seemed to be key to Beau.

“I'd like to do a story about it, but I've run up against total resistance from all the parents. Which I understand,” June added quickly. “The kids don't want to be seen as different. But I was thinking maybe I could do a story on you, and incorporate information about autism and Asperger's.”

“My partner is the one to talk to. It's his specialty. I work mostly with stroke and accident victims—and also the elderly who want to continue to live alone.
That
would be a good story, I think. Timely. There's a huge, aging population trying to figure out how to stay independent.”

“Let me run it by my editor. Sounds good to me.”

They sat side by side without talking for a while.

“So, Rafe got ticked at me for doing a little online speculation that you two were back together,” June said, “but you haven't said anything.”

Her sister Stephanie had been the first to point out the item to Melina, but not the last. She hadn't taken the bait. “We're not back together.” Melina could say that honestly now. “Elliot's a team endeavor, that's all.”

“Yeah, I heard that Rafe didn't leave town this week, as usual. I wondered if that would hurt his business.”

Leave town? Melina didn't want to seem ignorant, but she had no idea what June meant. “It's nice to be your own boss.”

“But it doesn't really matter, does it? You're still always working for someone.”

Melina couldn't disagree with her.

June fidgeted. “So, the reason I asked about Rafe is that I didn't want to step on any toes. I'll be honest, Melina. He interests me.”

Dread filled Melina's body from top to toe. She
felt frozen in place. “I thought you were interested in Beau.”

“He's pretty messed up. Rafe's got his head on straight. And he likes kids, which is important, since I've got two.”