Page 17 of Rafe

Rafe listened as Nate’s truck rumbled to life, the engine’s growl fading into the distance. He shook his head, knowing Nate had been on his case about Maggie for a long time. He always assured Nate it would never happen, but now, after what happened by the pond, his longing had only intensified.

“Shit,” he muttered, shaking his head once more. He walked out to his own truck, the afternoon air hot against his skin, and drove home. He wished it were already Saturday; he could certainly use a stiff drink.

****

Maggie pulled the vehicle close to the steps of her apartment. The engine fell silent as she stared through the windshield. Slowly, her head drooped onto the steering wheel, and tears began to flow down her cheeks.

While Rafe harbored regret over what had transpired, Maggie felt nothing but unyielding certainty. She would never regret that passionate moment, nor would she ever allow it to fade from memory. In her past, she had only been with three men, yet none had ignited her spirit quite like Rafe did, and certainly Frederick never had.

With a heavy heart, she reclined in her seat, her eyes fixed on the fabric of the SUV’s ceiling as if seeking solace. After exhaling a deep, soul-weary sigh, she switched off the engine, opened the door, and stepped out. Ascending the stairs, she unlocked the door, stepped inside, then closed it behind her, and sank onto the sofa, letting the quiet solitude wrap around her.

Maggie knew that she would always remember what they shared, even though moments later, anger had sullied that connection. Now, as a single woman, the complications of her past seemed absurd. Was he worried about what Fred would think? Did he believe that Fred wouldn’t want them to be together? Shaking her head, she dismissed that notion entirely. In her heart, she knew Fred would never say anything. She and Rafe were adults.

From the very first instant their paths crossed; Maggie had felt an inexplicable pull toward Rafe. Even locked in a marriage that constrained her, she sensed that Rafe was no man to entangle with a married woman casually. His dignified allure promised something more real, an encounter of fate that would linger in her memory forever. She thought back to when she first saw Rafe…

Maggie accompanied Frederick and Fred into the barn filled with the mingling scents of hay and horses. Fred, his eyes aglow with pride, led them to admire his newest horse, and Maggie’s attention was captured by a tall figure striding toward them. With each measured step, the surrounding air thickened with physical heat. When he finally paused just a few feet away,Maggie’s breath hitched. Rafe stood there, a man of unequalled handsomeness, exuding raw masculinity and sex appeal that left her spellbound from the very first glance.

“Rafe, this is Maggie. Frederick’s wife. And Maggie, meet Rafe Marshall, the manager here. Rafe, you know Frederick.”

With a wry tone laced with sarcasm, he replied, “Yeah, I know him,” before his cool gaze shifted to Maggie. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said, his hand casually grazing the brim of his hat in greeting.

Maggie began to stammer, “You—” but quickly cleared her throat. “You too, Mr. Marshall,” she managed.

A smile curved his lips. “Call me Rafe.”

Her face warmed with a light blush as she replied, “Thank you. I will, Rafe.”

Even as Frederick’s grip tightened on her arm to steer her away from the barn, Maggie’s eyes remained irresistibly drawn to Rafe. Unable to shake her gaze, she stole repeated, longing glances over her shoulder.

That same night, however, darkness took on a different form. It became indelibly marked by violence, one of the worst beatings Maggie had ever endured. Frederick’s blows rained with such savage force that one strike shattered her jaw, leaving it broken beyond natural repair. The damage was so grave that she required surgery, where metal plates and screws were coldly embedded to piece her shattered bone back together, a brutal reminder of the abuse she suffered. Yet, she could say nothing to anyone. She knew how cruel Frederick was.

At the hospital, Frederick spun a deceitful tale, claiming that a horse had kicked her during a riding trip with a friend. But Maggie, bearing the raw pain of physical and emotional scars, understood all too clearly the true source of her torment. It was then that the realization cut through her: she had to escape from him before his cruelty escalated further and he killed her.

Doctors and nurses tried to get her to talk. They’d seen abuse many times and knew the signs, but Maggie could only repeat Frederick’s lies until they finally stopped asking her for the truth.

For months, she kept it to herself about his abuse, but when he hit her again, she knew she had no choice. She called the police and in desperation reached out to her friend, Sharon Waters. With compassionate resolve, Sharon and her husband helped Maggie break free from the clutches of Frederick while he languished in jail for domestic abuse. Regret tugged at her for not reporting him sooner, but terror had rendered her voice silent, for she knew he was capable of harm not just to her but also to her father. The looming fear for her father’s well-being had cemented her determination to sever ties with the man she’d been forced to marry.

Explaining the twisted reasons behind that ill-fated union was a challenge steeped in shame. She could never admit to Rafe or Fred that coercion and manipulation had driven her into marriage; the reality was too bitter. Instead, Maggie clung to the solace that her father had at least forgiven her before his passing. A bittersweet memory of a love she deeply missed. Though her father had been heartbroken by her marriage to Frederick, she had seen no alternative when her only hope was to secure his care. Some truths she mused, were destined to remain misunderstood by the masses. Rafe knew some of what she’d gone through, but he didn’t know all of it and she wondered what he would think of her if he did.

Under the protection of Sharon and her husband, Maggie managed to slip away. That night, when Frederick’s fist struck with lethal intention, she had summoned the courage to call the police. While he languished in jail, she gathered the few possessions she could claim as her own and disappeared into the night without a backward glance. For a spell, she remainedhidden, until Luke McCallister contacted her with unsettling news: Fred’s horses had been stolen.

In that moment, Maggie’s intuition screamed that Frederick was behind the deed, an act that, though disheartening, was entirely consistent with the bitter man he had always been. She prayed fervently that she never saw him again.

Leaving behind the quaint familiarity of Whitefish to settle in Clifton demanded every ounce of courage Maggie possessed. Yet, driven by a tender love for her father-in-law, a man left isolated by Frederick’s incarceration, she moved closer to him. Determined to bridge the void of loneliness, she made regular visits to see him at least twice a month.

Fred’s gentle kindness was a beacon in her life, a brief reprieve from the loss of her own father. In the warmth of their shared moments, she found comfort, especially knowing that Fred’s affection for Rafe was as deep as a father’s love, a sentiment she believed was returned with equal devotion.

Though curiosity twined itself around her thoughts, Maggie never dared to ask Fred or Rafe about Rafe’s parents. Their fate remained an enigma, a mystery suspended in time, whether they were still alive, she could not say. She found herself yearning to unravel every secret of his past.

Sitting quietly on her sofa, Maggie resolved to speak with Rafe more openly. She longed for him to understand the depth of her attraction, to gauge if there might be even the slightest chance for them to be together. With a mix of steely determination and vulnerable hope, she declared, “Whether you like it or not, Rafe Marshall, I will be around.”

****

Saturday evening, Rafe found himself perched on a bar stool at Dewey’s, the dim glow of the bar casting soft shadows on his face as he cradled a cold, frothy beer. The gentle hum ofconversation and clinking glasses provided a temporary escape from his restless thoughts. He was a little early to meet Nate, but the stifling confinement of his own home had become unbearable, a place where all he did was think of Maggie. Her presence lingered in his mind like bittersweet perfume ever since their passionate encounter. He longed for her again, though he knew the forbidden nature of their connection complicated matters. To him, Maggie was still Fred’s daughter-in-law, a lingering bond from a past marital union with Fred’s son, and Rafe wondered how Fred might react if he knew how Rafe felt about Maggie.

“Hey,” came a casual greeting. Rafe looked over to see Nate approaching, sliding onto the stool next to him as naturally as if he’d always been there.

“Hey,” Rafe replied, his voice low and slightly distracted.

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