Page 13 of Our Secret Summer

“Oh, god.” Dylan slanted her head.

“You will never meet a more staunch defender of the patriarchy than my father,” Raffo said. “I was the only female left in the house, so I would do the cooking—and the cleaning, for that matter.” She paused to take a quick sip of water. “I cooked when my mom was ill as well, but that was different. I did it for her. She’d taught me how to cook a few dishes by then and I did it to help her, but… after she died.” Raffo shook her head. “I was so angry. All the Shahs are stubborn assholes, me included, and, well, there was a lot of fighting, which was, in the end, more an expression of our grief than anything else.”

“Oh, Raffo. I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

“I ran away from home when I just turned fifteen.”

Dylan did a visible double take. This information was not part of Raffo’s carefully curated artist biography, but she’d assumed Connor might have told his mother some things about her past. Either he hadn’t, which Raffo appreciated, or Dylan had an excellent poker face.

“Where did you go?” Dylan asked.

“The Rainbow Shelter. I’d read about it online and it seemed like my only option at the time.”

“The Rainbow Shelter? Why does that name ring such a bell?” Dylan knotted her shapely eyebrows together.

“They made a movie about it. About its founder, Justine Blackburn.Gimme Shelter. Did you see it?”

Dylan shook her head. “No, but I’ve heard about it.”

“It’s pretty safe to say Justine Blackburn saved my life.” Raffo could give her all the paintings she wanted, but she’d never be able to repay Justine for what she’d done for her. But Justine was not the kind of person who needed—let alone accepted—payment for any of her actions. That’s not why she did what she did.

“Jesus, Raffo. I’m stumped for words. I’m sorry about your mother dying so young and… your family not…”

“Being better?”

Dylan nodded. “What about your brothers? Didn’t they help you?”

“No. Not really. They weren’t allowed to. My dad… he went nuts after my mom died. He couldn’t cope. He just could not cope.”

“Is he still alive?” Dylan asked.

“Oh, yeah. He found himself a new wife-slash-servant, but we’re not really in touch. He doesn’t approve of my ‘lifestyle’ and that pertains to both my choice of partner and what I do for a living.”

“And your brothers?”

“They come to my openings sometimes, but it’s all very… businesslike. We haven’t been able to mend things between us. As a family, we didn’t heal after my mom died. It just wasn’t in the cards for us. It all just went to shit.” Even though it had happened so long ago, Raffo had to swallow a lump out of her throat. “My youngest brother, Rishi… A sister knows—I just know he’s gay, but he’s married to a woman and has two kids.” Raffo expelled a deep sigh. “I’ve always known, but now he’s just another self-loathing homophobe. It’s so sad.”

How was that for not flirting? Dylan hadn’t touched the delicious salad she’d made since Raffo had started talking—neither had Raffo.

“Jesus,” Dylan muttered.

“I’m sorry for, um, bringing down the mood like that. I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to explain…” Raffo took hold of her fork, more as a statement than anything else. “I’m fine now. Well, except for my girlfriend dumping me, but the rest of it all happened nearly twenty years ago.”

“You’re so strong.” Dylan leaned back in her chair. “I’m in complete awe of you.”

“Don’t be. My life is like so many other people’s. Ups and downs. Good things and bad things.”

“No.” Dylan shook her head vehemently. “You were thirteen, Raffo. And no one was there for you. That’s not okay.”

Raffo waved off Dylan’s comment with her fork. “My mom made me promise her, on her deathbed, that I’d go to college. That I’d work hard in high school so I could get a degree. I would have left home earlier if I hadn’t made her that promise, but I soon learned that I didn’t have time to do my homework if I stayed. So I left before finishing high school. Justine made sure I got my diploma when I was at the shelter, but I never went to college. I broke that promise to my mother.”

Dylan dabbed at her eye. “Any mother would be immensely proud of you.”

Raffo would never know—could never know—but she still felt, in her heart, that her mother would be proud of the work she did, despite her not going to college, and not becoming an engineer like Rishi, or a doctor, like her two older brothers.

“Thanks for saying that. I appreciate it.” Another gear change—and a mood shift—was in order. “Just like I appreciate the hell out of this salad. Good thing it can’t get cold.”

“Forget the salad.” Dylan looked at her, her eyes all moist and soft. “I just really want to give you a hug, unless you think that’s inappropriate.”

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