She seems to think on that for a minute. “I guess that’s true. Seeing us being affectionate with each other, or when we start sleeping in the same bed every night, will take getting used to, but kids at this age tend to take their cues from the people they love. If we don’t put too much weight on it, they likely won’t either.”
“We need to make sure certain people don’t have a chance to paint what is happening with a negative brush.”
“You’re talking about Mom and Dad.” I hate the sadness in those pretty brown eyes.
“Yeah. I’m not entirely sure how your dad will react, but I’m pretty positive Mom won’t be thrilled. We’ll have to brace for that.”
Now she grins. “I’m always braced around my parents, Rafe. I’m conditioned that way.”
“So noted.” I grin back and drop a quick kiss on her lips. “Now why don’t you head up and I’ll let the dogs out before crating them.”
“What about the mattress?”
“That’s going in your room tomorrow.” I get to my feet, not giving her a chance to object. “Go on up. I’ll be there soon.”
By the time the dogs are safe in their crate, I’ve locked up the house, and peek around the bedroom door; Taz looks to be asleep. I do my nighttime routine in the master bath, strip down to my boxers, and make my way back to the spare bedroom.
The moment I slide under the covers, though, Taz rolls over to face me, her eyes barely open.
“Rafe?”
“Yes, baby.”
“That was a great date,” she mumbles, her eyes already drifting shut again.
“The best.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Taz
I pull the CRV along the curb in front of Mrs. Myers’ house and see the curtains in the window move.
My least favorite stop of the day, even though on Friday she was surprisingly subdued. I have a suspicion she’ll have plenty to say today. It’s been an interesting weekend, some of which I’m sure has filtered through to her. It doesn’t take much in this town.
After an interesting day on Saturday, yesterday had been blissfully drama free.
We took the dogs out for a long hike in the woods and while they were sleeping off the morning’s exercise, Rafe and I took apart the bed in my room and hauled it downstairs to the truck, before replacing it with the new bed and mattress. It fits, but it’s tight.
We drove into town, dropped off the old bed at the thrift store, and picked up groceries for the week ahead. Aside from a few curious glances—which I almost don’t notice anymore—that exercise was uneventful, although I’d hoped to run into Meredith, but she was off.
A quiet night, a thorough testing of the new bed, and a good night’s rest closed out the weekend.
But now it’s back to regular scheduling, which means Mrs. Myers is waiting inside.
“Took you long enough.”
I take a minute to take a deep breath and greet the tongue-lolling Charlton first. You’d never know the docile, friendly dog is the same one who tried mauling my arm less than a week ago. He doesn’t seem to have anything against me, just to bath time.
“Afternoon, Mrs. Myers.” I force a smile for the older woman and set my medical kit on the coffee table and fish out some gloves. “How are you today?”
I barely listen to her laundry list of complaints—only mumbling sympathetically every now and then—while I focus on cleaning her wound, and change the dressing.
“Are you listening?” Her sharp tone draws my attention.
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
“I asked you when your parents will be home? I’ve missed them at church.”
I bet.
“Tomorrow, actually. They left Kentucky this morning.” I can almost see her mind churning as she narrows her eyes on me. Before she has a chance to say anything, however, I quickly add, “Which is why I should really get going. Lots of stuff to do before the kids come home.” I quickly stuff my things in my bag, but not fast enough.
“You mean your sister’s home.”
There it is. I thought I might be able to get away without a confrontation, but I guess that was too much to ask. I could ignore her and walk out, but I promised myself I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.
“Actually, it’s technically Rafe’s home—his name is on the deed—and I guess since I live there on invitation, it’s my home too.” I force a wide grin—determined to kill with kindness—and toss my bag over my shoulder. “I’ll see you on Wednesday, Mrs. Myers. Same time.”
I have my hand on the door before she has a chance to hiss her response.
“Shameless.” She intends the word to injure, but ironically it does exactly the opposite.
I should be without shame. There’s been enough of it loaded on my shoulders, by myself as much as others.
With my shoulders straight and my head held high, I walk out the door, not even giving her the satisfaction of a retort.
I assume Rafe is out on a call since I don’t see his truck parked in the driveway when I get home. The house is quiet without the dogs he either has with him, or left at the clinic. With nothing demanding my attention, I head upstairs to try out the Jacuzzi tub in the master bath I’ve been eyeing for months.
I spend a few minutes filling the tub with sudsy water and adjusting the jets before lowering myself in. I lie back and manage to enjoy it for about two minutes before I get restless. Not wanting to waste the tub full of water, I grab for my phone I left on the ledge.
“What’s up?” Kathleen answers on the third ring.
“Nothing much. I’m having a bath.” Knowing she would understand.
“You hate baths.”
“I know, but I thought maybe the jets would make it more interesting,” I confess a little sheepishly. “I’m a little disappointed.”
Kathleen laughs at me. “You haven’t changed one bit. Still can’t sit still long.”
“Whatever. What are you doing anyway?” I hear clanging in the background. She accuses me of not being able to sit still, but she’s no different.
“Emptying the dishwasher.” See? “Damn kids, I grabbed for a glass this morning and the cupboard was empty. Thirty-six damn glasses and not a single one on the shelf. Spent an hour going around the house with a tub, collecting plates and cups and cutlery from every nook and cranny. Jesus, some of the plates looked like science experiments—you don’t even wanna know.”
I stifle a chuckle since she was no different growing up. I clearly remember Kathleen’s bedroom looking like the aftermath of a bomb explosion most of the time. Her own mom used to be forever on her case, trying to get her to clean her room and bring down the dirty dishes.
“I remember—” I barely get the word out before she cuts me off.
“Yeah, yeah. Mom would probably have a good laugh at my expense if she could see me now.”
Kathleen lost her mother fifteen years ago quite suddenly. “Do you still miss her?” I ask, suddenly serious.
“Every day. People say it gets easier, but I think you simply get used to the pain. Do you miss Nicky?”