Holiday Serenade, The (11 page)

When Rhett stepped under the spray of the shower, he leaned his head back and let the water wash away all his worries.

Like his mama used to say when they’d go to church when he was a sprout, he’d have to sing from his heart to persuade Abbie to be with him.

Or everything would be lost.

Chapter 11

R
hett sang a few bars of “Do, Rey, Mi” while he shaved. God, those von Trapp kids had made it look easy, but it sure wasn’t.

A knock sounded on the bathroom door.

“You come to tell me the dogs are howling?” he asked Rye.

“No,” his friend responded, and his voice was wrong. The fact that he didn’t take an easy jab at him was another sign that something was up. “Open the door.”

“What happened?” he said, setting his electric shaver aside and turning away from the mirror to unlock the door.

Rye’s usually relaxed face was tense around the mouth and eyes. “Abbie’s son is here, and he seems really upset.”

After the way he and Abbie had left the party last night, Rhett wondered if Dustin was here to give him an ass kicking. The kid had been on his side from the beginning, but maybe things had changed.

“Is he pissed off?” he asked, wanting to know what he was walking into.

His friend shook his head. “No, he’s hurting. It’s like he’s lost his reason for living.”

Rhett rolled his eyes. “Aren’t you being a little dramatic?”

The hands Rye raised were large enough to palm a football and throw one sixty yards. “No, get dressed and come see for yourself. I’m going to head into town and give you guys some space. Text me when it’s clear to come back. Then we’ll work on your singing. By Christ, you suck, man.”

When the door closed behind him, Rhett tossed his towel aside. Ran the shaver over the last track of stubble. Didn’t bother with aftershave. And threw on fresh clothes in record time.

The kid was sitting on the couch, his knee jumping as his foot tapped the ground like he was sending a telegram. Rye hadn’t exaggerated. The kid looked like he’d just lost his best friend. The usual sparkle in his green eyes—just like his mother’s—was totally gone.

“Dustin,” he said as he walked into the den. Not knowing what to do, he dug a hand into his jeans pocket and decided to let the kid tell him why he was here.

“I hope…it’s okay that I came over without texting,” the kid said with more hesitation than usual.

He joined Dustin on the couch and leaned back, trying to appear at ease even though his stomach felt like the wrung–out sheets his mother had hung on the clothesline growing up, squeezed and twisted to within an inch of their life.

“You’re always welcome here, son. You know that.” He put his hand on Dustin’s shoulder. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

His heart broke when the kid covered his face with his hands. “I know why Mom won’t marry you.”

Rhett was sure that if he’d been in front of a mirror he would have seen a crack in his famous poker face.

Then Dustin looked up, his eyes slightly damp, and the sight just about broke Rhett’s heart in two. This teenager didn’t cry. Ever.

“It’s because of me.”

Rhett held in the sigh that wanted to escape. The kid wasn’t entirely wrong. Abbie didn’t think he’d make a good stepfather, but still, he’d have to tread carefully here.

“Dustin, it’s not your fault, son. Your mother has high standards when it comes to how she wants you to be raised. She’s not sure I—”

The kid jumped up and punched his own chest. “No, it’s because of me and the man who fathered me.”

A vicious ache spread through his gut, and Rhett stood, trying to stay calm in the face of the boy’s anguish. “Now, Dustin—”

“You know who he is and what he did to her, don’t you?” he yelled, moving toward him.

Rhett stood still, not wanting to inflame the situation.

“Tell me the truth,” Dustin demanded when he made no reply. “You know, don’t you?”

This time he couldn’t stop the sigh from gusting out, and funny how it didn’t give him any relief. “This is something you need to talk about with your mother, Dustin. Not me.”

The boy lurched around and stalked away before turning back, fists clenched at his sides. “She never tells me anything. A long time ago I realized how much it hurt her when I asked, so I stopped asking. But I can’t take it anymore. Not when it’s the reason she won’t marry you.”

This couldn’t continue, so Rhett walked over and put both hands on the kid’s growing shoulders. “It has nothing to do with you, son.”

Dustin threw off his hands. “I don’t believe you. I know what my father did to her.”

The ground seemed to tremble beneath his feet. He shifted his weight to re–balance himself. “What do you know?”

His lip started to quiver, and he shook his head. “My best friend finally told me a few weeks ago.”

Fucking teenage punks. Rhett’s jaw clenched. “Your friend doesn’t know squat.”

Those green eyes blazed like a forest fire. “Don’t bullshit me. Not you, Rhett. Taylor—my friend—said his parents were at the city council meeting when the vote was made about the hotel. He said Peggy brought up a story about Uncle Mac beating a man up and sending him to the hospital, and Uncle Mac admitted he’d done it, but said it was because the man had taken advantage of his sister. Taylor told me Uncle Mac was in college, and I thought about the timing.”

Oh sweet Jesus, Rhett thought, wanting to take the kid into his arms. He’d never wanted to protect anyone from the truth so badly.

Dustin faced Rhett, breathing heavily. “‘Taking advantage of’ is a nice way of saying raped, isn’t it? I’ve heard that in my English lit class. My father raped my mother, didn’t he? And that’s why she won’t marry you. She’s been upstairs resting all day, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I knew she was upset after she left the party. And I’m done with this. I don’t want her to be miserable because of me.”

Rhett couldn’t take it anymore. He yanked the kid toward him and squeezed him in a bear hug. “Your mother gets nothing but joy from you, Dustin Macalister Maven, and I’ll be damned if you’re going to think otherwise.”

The kid's arms fisted around him, and he dug his head into his chest. “But it’s true, isn’t it?”

Like a tick on a horse, the kid wouldn’t let it go. “Leave that for now.”

Dustin shoved back, the poster boy for a teenager ready to take the world on with his fists and fire. “I thought you were my friend. I thought you’d tell me!”

“I am your friend, Dustin,” he replied calmly. “I always have been, and I always will be. But I love your mother. And your uncle. I can’t betray their trust in me.”

“I’m sixteen, dammit! I’m old enough to know. I’m old enough to face the truth.”

He’d been the same way when he was Dustin’s age, thinking he was old enough for anything. Funny how wrong he’d been on some occasions, but learning to be a man was about figuring things out from personal experience. And the kid needed to be heard and comforted. This was one wound that would fester if it wasn’t properly treated.

“I know you are, son, and I’m proud of you for coming to talk to me. Now, let me take you home, and we’ll talk to your mom and Uncle Mac.”

Dustin lifted his chin and crossed his arms across his chest. “No, I’m not leaving here until I know the truth.”

Rhett studied him. The kid was dead serious, and he would never resort to dragging him out.

“Fine. They’ll come here then. But I can’t promise you what they’ll say.”

Lowering his chin an inch, Dustin said, “Okay.”

Rhett wanted to cross the room again and gather the boy up, tell him it would be fine, but that would be pointless. It wasn’t fine. And if they weren’t very careful, everything they’d built for the boy could be destroyed.

“I’m going to get my phone and call your mother, okay?” he told Dustin. Thank God, he’d left his phone on the bathroom counter.

A nod was all he received before he left the room.

When he reached his bedroom, he closed the door. Headed to the bed and sat for a minute, trying to find the inner place he went to when he was in a high–stakes game and the pressure was bone–cracking.

It wouldn’t come. He realized in that moment how different the stakes were in this situation. Rising, he found his phone and rubbed the pain in his chest as he called Abbie. Part of him prayed it would go to voicemail. After last night, he wasn’t sure she would pick up his call. If not, he would call Mac.

When she picked up, he closed his eyes.

“Hi, Rhett,” she said, her voice soft and hesitant.

His heart thundered for her, like a herd of wild mustangs racing across the prairie. “Hi,” he responded, not knowing what to say.

“I’m sorry I left…without saying anything.”

Well, this was encouraging. “Me too, but it’s not why I called.”

“Oh,” she replied, sounding deflated.

“But I’m glad to hear you’re sorry.” He took a deep breath. “Abbie, Dustin’s here.”

“He is? He said he was meeting his friend, Taylor.”

Yeah, some friend, Rhett thought. “Abbie, I don’t know how to tell you this in a way that won’t hurt you since there isn’t one, so I’m just going to say it. Dustin suspects that his father raped you.”

Her gasp was audible on the line. “But…how…I mean…God!”

“Taylor told him about the town council meeting for Mac’s hotel.” And he recounted his conversation with Dustin.

She was sniffing audibly by the end. “Oh God, no.”

He’d rather be strung up than hear her cry. “Abbie, I didn’t tell him anything, but he thinks it’s the reason you won’t marry me, and I’ve told him he’s not to blame.”

“Oh, Rhett.”

“Abbie, I think you and Mac need to come over. Dustin says he won’t leave my house until you tell him the truth.”

“But…this will break his heart.”

Like it had broken hers for over sixteen years.

“Abbie, it already has. Now we need to help it heal.”

She cried softly. He gripped his phone in a vice, wishing he could scoop her up and comfort her.

“Abbie, I’m here, and I’ll do anything I can to help. You aren’t alone.” No, he would never leave her. Any leftover bitterness from this morning had faded away. “Do you want me to call Mac?”

“No,” she said, clearing her throat. “I’ll…tell him. We’ll be over as soon as we can.”

“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll sit with Dustin until you get here.”

“I know you will, Rhett.” And then she hung up.

His arm lowered to his side, and he rested his head against the wall. He finally understood the phrase of feeling bone–bruised.

After a moment, he threw the phone onto his bed and went out to join Dustin like he’d said he would.

He was hunkered down low in the leather couch. There were tear stains on his cheek, and his nose was red.

“Your mom and Mac are on their way, son.”

He walked over and sat next to Dustin, their sides touching. When the kid leaned toward him, Rhett put his arm around him.

“I wish I was your son,” Dustin whispered.

It took a moment for Rhett to speak through the blockage in his throat. “Me too, son. Me too.”

And as the light filtered in through the windows, he held the boy and remembered how his mama always told him Christmas was a time of miracles. And even though he was rusty at it, he offered up a prayer for the boy beside him, the woman he loved, and his best friend.

When he heard a car drive up, he squeezed Dustin one last time and kissed his head like he used to do when he was a little kid, all freshly bathed, smelling of Crest toothpaste and Johnson & Johnson shampoo.

Then he rose and walked to the door.

Abbie’s face had never looked more ashen, and Mac’s was close to green. Peggy held Mac’s hand, and Mac held Abbie’s.

When they reached the front porch, he said, “He’s in the den.”

Mac nodded, kissed Peggy’s cheek, and started up the steps. Abbie wasn’t moving with him, so he stopped.

“I can’t seem to make my feet move any farther,” she said, and then punctuated the silence with a sound of pain and disbelief.

There could be no jokes today, so Rhett didn’t offer to carry her inside. Instead, he said, “Take your time.”

Her eyes flew to his, and in them, her fear shone through. “I can do this,” she said, as if to herself. She took one step. Then another. “I have to.”

And like Joan of Arc herself, she walked up those porch steps. When she passed him, she turned back and said, “Thank you for being with him, Rhett.”

He raised his chin in acknowledgement. “I’ll be in the study,” he informed them.

Peggy followed him, not Abbie and Mac. He let her precede him into his private sanctuary.

She settled onto his leather sofa and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Can I take your coat?” he asked since she hadn’t dispensed with it.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, her voice monotone.

Dare’s no–nonsense deputy sheriff was right. Who gave a fuck about pleasantries when a young man’s world had just been irrevocably altered?

So Rhett just nodded and sat in the matching arm chair, and the two of them waited together.

It was interminable. He couldn’t take his mind off of what might be going on in the other room. Of how fragile Abbie had looked as she’d walked up his porch. How fierce she’d been making love to him last night.

How could such polar opposites exist in one woman?

He didn’t care. All he knew was that he would love her until his dying breath and beyond.

Mac finally came into the office. He walked directly to Peggy, who wrapped her arms around him. His friend lowered his face to her shoulder for a long moment and then lifted his head. He met Rhett’s gaze, but didn’t say anything.

What the hell was there to say?

The desolation was clear.

Abbie and Dustin appeared in the doorway, holding hands. Dustin gave his mother a long look, and then released her hand and crossed into the room. Rhett opened his arms, and the boy flew into them, crushing his face against his chest.

Dustin started crying, and with that sound, Rhett felt tears gather in his own eyes. He held onto the boy, wishing he could do more, wishing he could erase everything that had happened except for the precious gift of this boy’s life.