Fear of Falling (20 page)

“Right. Sure. Absolutely,” Olivia managed. She extended her hand to Albert Allen Simmons III. “I'll stay in touch.”

“Do that,” he replied as he dropped her hand and sank slowly into his chair, going back to work without another glance in her direction.

“I'll just let myself out,” Olivia whispered. Albert didn't respond, but Olivia doubted he would have paid any attention if she'd shouted.

She closed the door behind her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

T
HE
GOOD
EARTH
of the Barzonni farm rolled black and rich under the blades of Rafe's plow. This was the last of the acreage they would plant in tomatoes for this season. In two weeks the crews that Mica had hired would arrive along with the tomato plants. They would work from dawn till the last vestiges of evening light remained to get the plants from the conveyor belt into the holes.

Because Mica had finalized a new contract with Red Gold Tomatoes, they'd decided to plow this unused acreage to bring their total to over three hundred acres of tomato production. If the crop did well, Rafe and Mica stood to eclipse their father's best contract year by over a ton. Red Gold expressed a need for thirteen tons of tomatoes in order to produce twenty million cans.

Rafe was surprised at how much the challenge excited him. He drove his tractor to the southern border of the precise rows he'd spent all day turning. He switched off the engine and watched the sun as it settled easily below the horizon. Spring birds chirped in the tall windbreak pines to the west. Beneath the pines were ornamental dogwoods and redbuds his mother had planted decades ago from little saplings. Every spring she'd trotted her sons out to this place on the farm, with its rolling slopes and surrounding trees. Over the years, she'd planted apple, peach and pear trees. She'd made jams and preserves when they were young kids, though she didn't have time for much canning these days. In recent years Gina had taken over more and more bookkeeping and ordering as Angelo had slowed down.

Thinking about his father and his stubbornness about never seeing a doctor, Rafe ground his jaw. He tasted grit and dirt he'd no doubt inhaled while plowing. He reached for his bottle of water, rinsed out his mouth and spit.

“Fool,” he said darkly, feeling the air leave his body as his eyes traveled to the horizon.

Golden light filtered through the trees, illuminated the white dogwood flowers and caressed the ink-dark ground. He could smell the earth and feel the energy of spring, the growing season coming alive. Butterflies flitted around the flower blossoms on the redbuds. Insects buzzed in whorls.

A breeze gently dried the perspiration that trickled down Rafe's temple. For the first time since his father's death, he didn't feel sad as he reminisced about him. Oddly, Rafe felt assurance that everything was just as it should be. He felt his heart swell with pride at all his father had accomplished in his lifetime. This land. The farm. The horses. His family.

For years Rafe's world had centered on horses and racing. It still did.

Yet something was different. Something was changing. He had changed. He felt as if he was seeing his life through new eyes. He understood Mica's passion for the farm in a way that had been alien to him before.

Rafe felt an urge to get down and kiss the land that had provided his father a sense of place and pride and ensured his sons had a future.

“The future...” Rafe rubbed the dirt from his forearm and placed both hands on the tractor's steering wheel. It wasn't that long ago that Rafe had groused about another planting season. Another long summer and the endless days of harvest. But at this moment he counted his blessings. All things considered, he was a most fortunate man. His birthright had been hard-won by his father, and Rafe was grateful.

He only wished he'd told his dad that when he was still alive.

Noncommunication was definitely one of Rafe's flaws. He didn't have a single problem talking to horses, but when it came to humans, he didn't know how to express his feelings. He supposed half his problem came from imitating his undemonstrative father. The rest was his own fault. It was just easier not to get involved. Easier to keep his mouth shut and let others think whatever they wanted about him. He supposed that was one of the reasons he got along with Austin so well. Of course, Rafe had never known his friend's reclusive tendencies were mostly due to the fact that Austin had been brokenhearted over Katia. Austin had never said.

Naturally. Noncommunicative guys did that.

Rafe had never been in love with anyone and couldn't imagine what it felt like to be hurt by someone he loved. He was glad Austin and Katia had found each other and were now planning their wedding. He wanted his best friend to be happy because—

“I'm happy,” he said aloud, surprising himself. He looked over at a dove flying into a spruce tree to nest. “Everyone should be happy.”

Rafe smiled, and an image of Olivia filled his mind. He'd been thinking about her all day, wondering what she was doing and how things were at the deli. They hadn't fallen into a pattern of phoning each other at the end of their days to talk, but he wanted to start now. He supposed he could call her once he got back to his apartment to discuss the upcoming trip on Saturday to Cicero, Illinois. She'd accepted his invitation, though he honestly didn't feel that she was excited about the race.

As he'd relaxed into the fact that he was more than a little attracted to Olivia, he'd felt a tingle of apprehension that wouldn't go away. She'd stiffened when he'd invited her to the race. Was she recoiling from him?

He couldn't deny that at other times, she'd looked up at him with those warm brown eyes swimming with affection, if not love. And she'd agreed quite sweetly to go with him to Hawthorne Racecourse. Judging by her very apparent love and care for Rowan, she would want to see him run this important race.

He gnawed at the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. There were times when he wondered if she liked Rowan more than she liked him.

He licked his dry lips. No, she could never have kissed him with such surrender and tenderness if she didn't feel deeply about him.

Still, he knew something was wrong. She was hiding something. But what?

Rafe had wrestled with enough emotions since his father's death to fill a lifetime. He'd gone from guilt and grief to anger and resentment to the flush of victory and the joy of finding a woman he just might want to spend the rest of his life with.

Rafe's heart hammered as the idea settled into his bones. “Olivia and I.”

Scanning the golden-hued pasture as a flock of birds flew across the darkening sky, Rafe focused on the memory of him and Olivia riding horses together to his secret place. He was always so fascinated to hear her talk of the way she saw the world. It was if she saw everything and everyone with her heart and not her eyes.

She might be a photographer, but to him she was a visual poet. A painter of the world not filtered through the disappointed and distorted eyes of humans.

She had clear vision and the purest heart he'd ever encountered.

Rafe wasn't quite sure how to ferret out Olivia's true feelings for him. She hadn't said anything to suggest she might care for him, and the word
love
hadn't been spoken. Admittedly, he hadn't pushed her for a declaration, either.

Again, Rafe blamed his consistent, intractable flaw of keeping his thoughts and feelings to himself. It wasn't easy for him to share his inner self with others, but Olivia was making him see that the prospect should not be frightening, but liberating.

Rafe realized there were labyrinths of Olivia he had yet to explore and he was anxious to begin. As dark purple shadows swallowed up the terrain, he turned on the tractor engine. It had been a productive day. He took one last look at the rich earth that would soon be planted and hopefully bear a bumper crop for them this year.

Thinking of Olivia, he realized for the first time in his life he was content. In three days he would be racing Rowan in a Graded Stakes race and he'd be with Olivia all day and evening. They would have plenty of time to talk and even if it took him all day, he would not stop until he discovered the source of the fear he sensed in her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

O
LIVIA
SAT
IN
the passenger seat of Rafe's Ford 350, which pulled the horse trailer behind it. Rafe had assured her that Rowan had settled in for the drive without any bad behavior. Curt Wheeling had already driven to Cicero the previous night with a great deal of the gear as well as Rowan's bridle and saddle. Curt's job was to make certain that all the paperwork, stall accommodations and feed were in order, and that Jenny had arrived and was prepared for the race.

Rafe was in good spirits as they drove through the south side of Chicago on the interstate. Olivia had never been to Cicero and knew little about the town other than that it was on the west side of the city, it was the birthplace of Ernest Hemingway and it had harbored hideouts and bars owned by Al Capone in the 1920s.

Rafe appeared happy, regaling Olivia with stories about Rowan's last run around their home track on Thursday night. Twice, he'd reached over the drink holder and touched her hand. He squeezed her fingers for emphasis occasionally but she didn't know if he was trying to find a reason to touch her or if he just naturally became so enthusiastic while telling stories that he did this kind of thing with everyone.

Was she special or not?

And if she was, how in the world was she going to tell him that she was covering this race for a magazine and that if she did well, she would land a job in Louisville? Albert had made it clear that he needed to hire someone. There was a real possibility that this might be the last time she saw Rafe for a long time to come.

Ever since she'd left the
Lexington Trophy Magazine
offices on Wednesday, she'd felt numb. She'd driven six hours up I-65 and didn't remember a single moment of her trip. All she'd thought about was the fact that she was so close to a finish line of her own. Her dream job was within her grasp.

Mine for the taking.

Conflict reigned supreme in her mind. One minute she wanted to shout over a loudspeaker that her photos—her talent—had been recognized by a major publication. Okay, it was a fledgling magazine, but still—this was her dream.

The next moment she felt her stomach churn and her breath hitch as she thought about leaving her mother and friends. Most of all, she realized, she didn't want to leave Rafe.

Not that she'd told Rafe how much she cared about him. And she had no idea if he had feelings for her. Sure, he might have liked kissing her, but so had Bobby Rudolf in the tenth grade. That wasn't the same as love.

At some point Olivia had to tell Rafe about the assignment and the potential job offer, but she couldn't spoil his enthusiasm about the race. This was an incredible opportunity for Rowan, and it was selfish of her to think of herself right now.

The best thing she could do was wait. She would make time to come clean once they were back in Indian Lake.

Rafe was chuckling about something he'd said, and he reached for her hand again. This time he didn't let go.

“Olivia, can I ask you something? It's pretty personal, but it's important to me.” Though he was a conscientious driver and only took his eyes off the road for a brief moment to glance at her, in that fleeting second, she read empathy and concern in his eyes. The slight crease of a smile dusted his lips, just enough for her to know that his intentions were honorable and compassionate.

Was this about her assignment? About the magazine job she hoped to land? How could he know? She hadn't even told her mother. Olivia braced herself. “Uh, sure. What is it?”

He lifted her hand and wiggled her arm. “It's that,” he replied. “You just did exactly what I wanted to ask about. You tense up sometimes, when I'm talking about Rowan. This time you went rigid before I had a chance to broach the subject. This can only lead me to believe that I make you nervous. Don't you like being with me?” He released her hand and put both of his on the steering wheel.

She felt shame ignite every vein in her body, searing, branding, burning and making her feel insignificant and helpless. She was losing control. She knew exactly what he was talking about. Explaining the magazine job would have been much easier than relating her past and the monsters in her psyche.

“That's not it,” she assured him so quietly she wasn't sure she'd actually spoken out loud. “It's not you. I promise.”

He shook his head but kept his eyes on the road. A semi hauling three trailers passed them. Rafe moved to the far right lane. “I think it is. When we were at the farm—at my secret place—you went cold as ice not long after I kissed you. And then at Austin's house, when he made the joke about betting on the game, you were so rigid. Your neck was like steel. I have to ask if it's me. Is my touch so abhorrent to you?”

“Oh, no, Rafe. You've got it wrong.” Olivia wrung her hands in her lap. “I like it when you touch me. When we hold hands.” He was gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were pale.

He deserved to hear the truth, all of it, no matter how difficult it was for her to reveal. “But you're right. There is something. I don't share this with many people...” She glanced out the window and watched a sea of billboards fly by.

“I hope I'm not most people.”

“You aren't. In fact, Rafe, you're the one person who should know because I care about you and I would never want you to have your feelings hurt because of anything I did,” she rambled.

Rafe remained silent, letting her continue, but the soft smile he gave her was encouraging.

“I was nervous. I
am
nervous when we go to the races.”

“The races?” Confusion filled his voice. “I thought you loved Rowan.”

“I do. Very much. It's not the animals, and I have discovered thanks to you and Rowan that it's not the actual race that frightens me. It's the betting. The gambling. The ticket counters and betting cages terrify me.” The more she spoke, the less difficult it was to continue with the explanation. “Rafe, when I was little and my dad was around, he was—well, he was addicted to gambling.” Olivia had to say it fast, otherwise she'd never get the dreaded confession out into the open. She was afraid to look at Rafe's face. Terrified of the recrimination she'd find there.

Slowly, she tore her eyes from the lines of traffic in front of them. “It was awful for both me and my mom.”

“I'm so sorry, Olivia,” he said empathetically. “It would be so hard for a little kid to understand what was going on. Any addiction is.”

Before she could respond, he placed his hand on top of both of hers, lifting her left one to his lips. “I'm sorry,” he said again and kissed her palm.

The warmth of his sincerity raced up her arm and straight to her heart. His caring words and gestures obliterated her fears. Olivia had never thought much about the power of love—the voltage of that kind of positive energy—but she did now.

She realized that though she'd had friends all her life, she'd never put a single one of them to this kind of test of faith. She'd kept her family shame a secret for so long, she'd come to believe she would never be able to share it.

Here was Rafe, in many ways a stranger to her, and yet he understood. The doors to her heart were wide-open for him.

Rafe glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and turned on his signal. “Cicero is our next exit,” he said. “And, Olivia, if this is too hard for you, it's okay. You don't have to go on.”

“I want you to know everything, Rafe.”

“Only when you're up to it,” he said considerately.

Olivia was so impressed that Rafe was comfortable with such a deep level of intimacy that she believed she owed him the truth. “My dad only bet on horses. He never played cards or dice or went to a casino. At least that's what my mother told me. He rationalized that it was tradition, that it was natural for a person to bet on horses that were bred purely for racing. That's what he told himself—and us. I remember going to Arlington with him. The horses were so majestic.” She sighed. “I suppose I encouraged him to take me. I didn't understand about the losses he was taking. I just wanted to see the horses.”

“But you were just a little kid, right?”

“Yes. But still—”

“How could you know? Olivia, do you see what you've been doing? You've been blaming yourself for something you and your mother, I'm guessing, were powerless over.”

Olivia's shoulders softened as relief siphoned away another layer of guilt and fear. “I have been doing that,” she whispered as the realization settled into her bones. She stared blankly out the window, but she didn't see the exit ramp they were taking or the traffic light. All she saw was her father's agony when his horse lost another race. His despondency and embarrassment had captured them both. The thrill she'd experienced earlier just watching the beautiful horses being led to the gate had vanished so quickly and been replaced with such overpowering negativity that any elation was erased. Abolished, as if she'd never felt joy in her life.

“He left us one day. No goodbyes. No warning. My mother didn't know the amount of the debt he'd racked up until a few weeks later. I remember her crying herself to sleep. I tried to help her. Say things...” Olivia's voice hitched as emotion erupted in her throat and cut off her words. Tears stung her eyes and fell uncontrollably down her cheeks. She brushed them away with her fingertips, but visions of her mother's despair were so vivid and so biting that she continued to cry.

“Olivia, you did the best you could,” he murmured and reached over to put his hand on her shoulder. “No wonder you and your mother are so close.”

“We are.” She lifted her hand to cover his. She could feel his warmth again; it was as if he was infusing her with strength. She laced her fingers through his, wanting more of his confidence to buoy her up. “Over the years we grew the deli and then the catering business. She paid off all his debts and kept her little house and fixed it up. She's pretty amazing.”

“So are you.”

The smile she gave him came from her heart, though her eyes were still swimming with tears. “Thank you.”

They'd come to a stop just before entering Hawthorne Racecourse grounds.

“So you see, Rafe. It's not you that frightens me—it's the gambling. I know it's my problem and I have to get over my fear. For a long time, I thought I had. Until...”

“Until you met me and Rowan,” he offered.

“Yes. Everything about my father and the past has come back to me. Not in a good way.” This time she lifted his hand to her lips and kissed the back of it. “It's not you, Rafe. Never you.”

Rafe leaned across the seat and kissed her cheek. “The one thing I want you to know, Olivia, is that I want to be more to you than just a friend. I'll be there for you. No matter what. Would you let me be that person for you?”

Olivia eyes still stung from the tears she'd shed over her father. Now a new wave of pain built deep in her heart because she knew she'd finally found the one person she loved enough to confide her deepest shames and fears to—Rafe. And he was going to be the one she would hurt the most when she grabbed the tail of her dream and rode it all the way to Louisville.