Wrong Twin, Right Man

“Did Beth tell you that?”

She must have. But anybody could see from his stance, from the way he held himself ready for battle, that Rafe Montoya would stand alone against whatever challenge came his way—and that an offer of support would only make his determination more fierce.

“You don’t need anyone looking out for you,” Anne observed.

It surprised her when a flicker of remorse crossed his face. “No,” he muttered, dropping his gaze to the carpet. “That drove her crazy.”

And that sounded like the kind of marital problem a sister-in-law had better stay out of. “Look, I’m sorry,” she said hastily, closing the drawer with the wreath, which had started her thinking of Beth. “This is none of my business.”

He didn’t even bother to voice an agreement. Instead, he straightened his shoulders as if dismissing the entire topic. “Anyway, let me know if you want some coffee later.”

“Thanks.” It actually sounded tempting, but she’d already intruded enough. “I ought to get some work done.”

His smile flashed so quickly that she was caught by surprise at how attractive this man could be. “I hear you. The job comes first.”

He was right, Anne thought a little breathlessly. What was the matter with her, anyway? Here she was, wearing her sister’s clothes and living in her sister’s home…but feeling her sister’s appreciation for Rafe Montoya was going way too far.

“Tell me,” she blurted, “how you and Beth met. I mean, the whole thing. How you fell in love with each other.”

Rafe looked taken aback, but he shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned against the doorway, as if searching for the right words.

“Because you did love her,” Anne prompted. “I mean, Beth probably told me the whole story at the time. It’s just, I don’t quite remember.”

His guarded expression softened slightly. “Well,” he said, “it was here in Tucson. You’d gone off to Harvard, and Beth was at the U of A.”

“That was after our dad died, right?” She’d pieced together enough scraps of memory to know that their mother had died when they were young, and their late grandmother had raised them without much help from their dad. “So it was just Beth and me left.”

“Right, and she came to this homeless shelter with a bunch of her sorority sisters. Volunteer weekend. I was coming off shift—this was an internship, my last year of school—and when I saw her reading to these kids, it just kind of hit me.”

“Love at first sight,” Anne said. This was what she needed, hearing about Beth from someone else who had loved her. And already the story was setting off chords of memory. “She’d never met anyone like you.”

Rafe gave her a rueful smile. “She didn’t know the half of it…I didn’t want to scare her away. But I kept working extra hours, hoping I’d see her again, and she kept on showing up with dolls for the kids. You remember the dolls, right?”

“Nobody makes dolls who look like they have Down syndrome,” Anne quoted her sister, who had spent years volunteering at the group home in their neighborhood. “And everybody should have a doll who looks like them.”

“Of course you remember that,” he apologized. “She wouldn’t have turned it into a business without your marketing. Anyway, that was how we met.”

“And fell in love.”

“And fell in love, yeah.” Rafe hesitated, then squared his shoulders, and for a moment she saw a grimace of pain cross his face before he resumed his look of calm control. Even so, his voice was a little unsteady when he muttered, “Thanks for asking. I needed to remember that.”

Chapter Three

He had loved Beth.

He needed to remember that, Rafe knew.

He needed to hold on to whatever he could, if he was going to get through this cemetery visit.

“You don’t have to drive me,” Anne had told him early this morning, as if she might have seen some sign of the uneasiness that had haunted him all night. “I can always get a cab from the physical therapy clinic.”

But that wasn’t how Beth would want her sister cared for, he knew. And he needed to care for somebody.

Especially after how badly he’d failed his wife. Letting her think the street kids mattered more than she did, letting her leave on vacation without making the time to fix things…

“No, I’ll take you,” he’d told Anne, and now they were almost to the Fairlawn Memorial Park.

With a bouquet of yellow roses and a wildflower wreath on the seat between them.

“I really appreciate this,” she said. “I know you’ve got a lot of work backed up.”

He did, but this visit mattered more. Because Anne needed this trip.

“No problem,” Rafe assured her, pulling into a parking space. “It’s been twelve days since the funeral, and I should’ve come before now.”

But she surprised him with a quick gesture, laying her hand on his arm as if to cut off the very thought. “Not if it tears you up inside. Beth wouldn’t want that.”

No, she wouldn’t. Not Beth.

If this visit tore him up inside, though, it was no more than he deserved for letting her leave with things still uneasy between them.

And besides, he could handle it. As long as he had Anne to look after, there was no risk of breaking down.

Even so, accompanying her across the endless lawn to Beth’s grave cost him more self-control than he’d anticipated. And Anne seemed to realize that he wasn’t quite as strong as he’d hoped, because she made no attempt to engage him in conversation.

Without speaking, he placed his sheaf of yellow roses by the headstone and retreated to give her some time alone with Beth’s memory. Yet after a few minutes of what looked like silent prayer, she turned to him without even wiping away the tears on her cheeks.

“Rafe,” she said softly, “you have a right to feel bad, too.”

“I know.” But crying wasn’t an option. He swallowed and shoved his hands into his pockets. “It’s okay.”

“I mean,” she faltered, addressing the flowers in her hands as if meeting his gaze might be too intimate, “I know you feel like you have to look out for me, but if you need a shoulder to cry on…I can look out for you, too.”

“That’s okay,” he said hastily. This trip was for Anne, not himself, but it was kind of her to make such an offer. “Thanks.”

She seemed to realize that he didn’t need comforting, because without another word she turned back to the grave and gently laid her own flowers next to his. Then she stayed still, probably saying goodbye to her sister in her own way, which Rafe hoped would take a while.

Because he needed to get himself back in control. Back to the kind of strength he’d relied on for years, the kind that kept him looking out for whoever needed protection.

Which didn’t include Rafe Montoya.

No matter what Anne thought. But since she wouldn’t be around for long, anyway, there was no point in explaining that he didn’t need a shoulder to cry on.

Never had, never would.

So get yourself together.

It helped to remember the day of the funeral, Rafe discovered, mentally reviewing all the mourners he’d seen around the closed casket. Beth’s friends from the quilt shop. The whole crew from Legalismo, because he hadn’t thought to insist on keeping the clinic open. A couple of former clients. Their old neighbors from across the street, the Harts, Roger and Linda and Marci and Jim….