Mendoza's Return

“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.