The next question was a surprise though.
“So Rafe’s okay with having dogs around?” Nico asked.
“Oh, more than okay.” I laughed. “He’s pretty buttoned up, but he adores his pup, Princess. She was a camp dog, and he arranged for her to come all the way from Afghanistan.”
Tap. Tap. Tap.All of a sudden, a dainty dog with a long slender muzzle slipped her head under Angelina’s arm and crawled partway onto her lap. She settled and stared at me.
“This is Bella, our Italian Greyhound,” Nico said, reaching down to stroke her neck. “The latest in a line of greyhounds since we were little.”
Pirate was sitting up now, crowding close to look at the screen. “Must run in the family,” I declared, looping my arm around his neck. “We’ve had chocolate Labs all my life. My son Finn grew up with Pirate here.”
Tony’s eyes lit up. “Glad to hear it. My parents were strict—nothing to mess up, or warm up, the house. They never allowed us to have any pets. I was determined it’d be different for my kids.”
Ah, so now to the heart of the matter.
Tony went on, “Rafe was in the military before he became a coffee roaster?”
“Yes, he enlisted out of high school and served for over twenty years, both here and in the Middle East, before he took retirement,” I said. Yesterday, I’d already shared how Rafe and I had met when he arrived for the temporary roaster job at the Chocolate Lab.
“Rose, I tried to find him.” Tony looked pained. “I tell you—and I’ll tell it to Rafe’s face if I get a chance to meet him—I tried to find him.”
“Tony, you were so young yourself. You gotta know you did the best you could.” I tried to console him while Angelina and Nico patted his shoulders.
He said in a rush, “I was nine when my parents found out Angelina was pregnant. Abortion was out of the question, and they—and the priest—wanted her to give up the baby for adoption. So much crying and slammed doors. They tried to hide it from me, but I overheard enough.”
He shook his head like he was still in disbelief, all these years later. “She refused, and my father kicked her out. They weren’t going to allow her to see me. She pushed into my bedroom anyway and hugged me so hard. She told me she had some money from our grandmother and that a cousin was going to help her. That was the last time I saw her.”
Tony picked up some envelopes and waved them. “I got some letters from her—at least the ones my mother didn’t intercept—and some photos too. Nothing about her struggles, all about Raphael. When I was about fifteen, the letters stopped. I was old enough to figure out how to take the bus to where they lived in Oakland. They were gone, and nobody was around to answer any questions.”
Closing his eyes, he grimaced. “My father was quick with the slap, and my mother had no say in our house. I got out of there when I turned eighteen and never looked back. I was a hard worker, and eventually my wife and I opened a deli and grocery. With her support, I ran down my sister’s death certificateandRaphael’s birth certificate—but no trace of my nephew himself. We think the system lost any records.”
“I take it your parents were never involved in the search?” I asked gently.
“No,” Tony said shortly. “And they’re no longer living.”
Nico put his hands on his dad’s shoulders, and Angelina leaned into his side. They knew something bad was coming.
“Rose, what happened to Raphael after my sister died?”
There was no way to sugarcoat it. But I did try to soften it.
“Please know that Rafe is safe now. He’s healthy and fit. He’s a hard worker.” Here I smiled at Tony. “His experiences in the army, and maybe before, have made him over-the-top protective of the people he…cares for. He has the respect—and affection, whether he believes it or not—of my son, my friends and everyone at the Chocolate Lab.”
“Rose, just tell us,” Tony urged.
“Okay.” I was overstepping, but I swallowed over the lump in my throat and gave in. Wanting to spare them pain, I sketched in broad strokes, while glossing over details, the story of Rafe’s life with his mom, his placement in foster care after her death, and his decision to enlist after high school.
By the time I finished, tears were running down the faces on the other side of the screen. Whether it was my somber look or my halting words, Rafe’s family got the untold story.
“Last week, when Rafe was getting ready to leave for his job in Boise, I pushed him, Tony.”
“What do you mean, Rose?”
“I pushed him into telling mewhyhe wouldn’t return to Portland, to me. He told me I deserved better. He told me to find a better man. Despite how he cared for his mom, despite all his years in military service, despite all he’s done for me, he didn’t want anyone relying on him.”
I was determinednottospill all the details about the teen gang and fighting and bloodshed to his new family. Those parts of his past had given me pause before I’d gotten my head—and heart—together. That was Rafe’s story and his alone to share.
Instead, I finally zipped my lip. “Anyway, he decided to shut me out. I got mad and told him to go. We’ve reconnected since then, and I think he’s forgiven me. But still…”