Tumble Creek (30 page)

Her focus went back to the young man who was using his fork to push at his delicious pasta. Eventually, he filled his fork, lifted it into his open mouth and chewed, then took another, and another.

Okay good, he's occupied, enjoying his food, which didn't help this worrying situation—at all. It was so awkward, and terrifying. But despite the adrenaline pumping through her, Sofie smiled on the outside, and did her utmost to control a hysterical outburst that bubbled in her chest and put her stomach in a vice-like grip. She forced herself to stand, and hands trembling, picked up her bowl to take it away. Needing to keep an eye on Rafael, she hovered in the hallway adjacent to the kitchen door; should he decide to leave, she was ready to tackle him to the floor if needs be. How would she explain that … oops, sorry, didn't mean to fall on you?

Shit!

‘Jen—Jen!' Sofie whispered loud enough for her sister to hear over the workings of the kitchen.

Jennifer eyed her. ‘Why are you all sparkly—' frowning she jerked her head back for a better look, ‘—and weird … huh? C'mon, give?'

‘I thought you understood when you passed me out there and gave me the big eyes. You can't have forgotten the bundle of photos that were dropped off? We cooed and ahhed over them for ages.'

‘I gave you big eyes because he's hot, and he's …' Staring at Sofie, Jennifer's mouth popped open, not really looking at her, but thinking back to the night they studied the parcel of photos. Slowly, her focus came back.
‘Oh—my—God!'
came out like a harsh whisper.

‘Yeah, that's right. Oh my God!' Sofie whispered back.

‘Okay, so there's a connection, we know who the photos belong to, but why drop them off here?'

Sofie eyed her sister, who was being the dippy one in the family really, not her this time.

And then things got worse.

‘Interesting how he reminds me of someone, but I can't think who.'

‘Jen?' Sofie gave her sister a baffled frown.

‘Yeah?' Jennifer responded brightly.

‘What is wrong with you?' Sofie gripped her sister's arm and gave it a shake.

Jennifer frowned then sighed. ‘I don't know what's wrong with me, but my hormones are all over the show. My brain's like mush … not enough sleep,' she yawned.

Jesus, okay, not going there right now, Sofie tried to tell herself, but it didn't work, her excitement was building on two fronts. ‘Crikey!' she quietly exploded and took her sister by the shoulders, squeezing them, and asked, ‘Have you seen someone?'

‘Oh sure, like I've got time.' Jennifer leaned her hip against the work bench and yawned. ‘Shit, I'm so tired.'

Sofie rolled her eyes, cupped her sister's face, and said, ‘I'll talk to you later, but the other problem out there can't wait, so listen carefully. I'll explain as quickly as I can. Brock and I talked last night and about twenty years ago he had a fling with Susanna Adumari.' Jennifer's mouth popped open and understanding flooded her face. ‘I'm thinking, my hunky Brock and Susanna made Rafael. I suppose he could be someone else's, but looking at him I doubt that very much.'

‘Oh—my—God!' Jennifer whispered.

‘What is going on with you two?' Elliot asked, then added, ‘Keep it down, Jesus, you're messin' with my head.'

‘In a minute, Elliot, this is too important,' Jennifer told him.

‘What am I going to do with this?' Sofie asked. She swallowed past a throat that was becoming uncomfortably thick. ‘Brock will be here any second.
Shit—shit—shit
!'

‘Maybe you should meet him outside and try and explain …' Jennifer yawned again, ‘ … ease him in gently.'

‘Good idea, Jen. Let me take the water, I'll drop it off to Rafael on the way.' Jennifer went to the refrigerator, pulled out a carafe and handed it to her. Sofie took it and muttered, ‘I don't know how Brock's going to take this, and I don't know where to begin.'

The sound of footsteps—no, more like large strides—came through the sunroom and down the short hallway. Panicking, Sofie shoved the carafe back at Jennifer. ‘Shit! Brock's here,' her voice a tense squeak. She swung around catching Brock's silhouette as he came through the gloom of the hallway. Smiling, he sauntered into the restaurant's kitchen.

‘Hey,' Sofie and Jennifer said brightly and in unison.

Brock gave them both a sidelong, suspicious look. ‘What's going on?'

‘I'll tell you what's going on,' Elliot began. ‘These two—'

In a flash, Jennifer clapped a hand over his mouth and gave him her best death glare. ‘If you value your nuts, do not say a word,' she hissed at him.

Elliot's eyes were huge, but quickly turned squinty, as if saying
you wouldn't dare
.

‘Oh yes, I would, Elliot.'

He gave her a one-shoulder shrug, and mumbled something that sounded like he was yielding, and Jennifer eased her hand away.

‘Sofe, you going to tell me?' Brock asked, frowning down at her.

‘Keep an eye out,' she asked Jennifer with a sideways nod to the dining area. ‘Back in a minute.' She took Brock's hand and tugged him out to the back sunroom and explained as gently and as quickly as she possibly could.

What?' Hands low on his hips, his voice barely a whisper, which was nigh on impossible for Brock, his expression intense, almost scary. ‘Is this some sort of joke?'

‘Brock!' She raised herself onto her toes and, glaring at him, thumped his shoulder—hard. ‘How could you think that of me? I didn't drop the photos off. I didn't force that young man to walk in here today!'

‘Sofe, this … this is …' Brows furrowed, as a range of emotions shifted behind his eyes, he shoved his fingers into his hair, and left them planted on top of his head.

‘I know it's a shock, but it's also beautiful. He's so much like you, it's uncanny. He's a lovely young man, and though you had no part in his upbringing, you can be proud of Susanna for the wonderful job she did. And you can be proud of Rafael Adumari slash Stewart.'

Brock swung around and peered down the hall. ‘Why didn't she tell me?' he quietly asked himself.

‘I don't know. But he's out there and if you're careful, I'm sure he'll answer all your questions. Keep in mind, if he's anything like you, and I think he is, do
not
say anything negative about his mum.'

Brock's frown deepened. ‘Fuck no. I wouldn't. Still pissed that I wasn't included. You know what I'm saying?'

‘Yeah,' Sofie said on a breath, ‘I know. But Brock, you could have him now.'

He started to move, and just in case she needed to soothe the savage beast, she called softly, ‘Hey, be gentle.'

Hand reaching for her, he asked, ‘Yeah … what're you doing?'

‘You want me to go with you?'

‘Fuck yeah,' Brock demanded, clasping her hand firmly in his.

‘Jennifer's the one who has been talking to him.' Sofie's voice wobbled as she tried to keep up with his long strides. Brock glanced across his shoulder, and cut his pace back to match hers. ‘So let her introduce you, I mean us.'

‘Yep,' he clipped, nervously.

They made it to the kitchen, but Jennifer wasn't there. Sofie peeked around the corner into the restaurant dining area and found her. She'd taken care of several new diners, but was now talking to Rafael.

Brock came to her side and froze.

‘You okay?' His hand shook in hers; she gave it a squeeze. ‘Brock?' Nothing. Sofie wrapped her arms around him, held on tightly, and pressed her forehead into his jaw.

After long agonising moments Brock heaved in a deep breath and slowly let it out past his lips. ‘Just like Susanna,' he said on a sigh.

‘Of course, but then, Jen and I both thought he looked familiar, his mannerisms too. He could
not
be anyone else's son, but yours. Rafael is like you all over, you're
his
dad.'

When his eyes, filled with awe and trepidation met, Sofie's her filled with tears. She blinked several times and mentally hauled herself back from bawling. His expression softened and the smallest of smiles lit his face. ‘You keep me whole.' Then corners of his mouth fluttered, and he let it rip, big, broad and happy.

‘Brock Stewart?' Sofie whispered.

‘Yeah.'

‘I love you. I really,
really
love you.' She reached up as he dipped his head, and kissed him; holding hands, they walked out into the dining area together.

***

Jennifer shifted to the side and, on seeing them approach, Rafael scraped his chair back and stood. Freaking out didn't quite cover what was written all over his face, especially his assessing, dark-brown eyes.

Hand extended, Brock stepped forward. ‘Brock Stewart,' he said, clear and concise which, under the circumstances, had to be a miracle. Training and control, she reminded herself.

Rafael didn't hesitate and, from across the table, took the offered hand in a tight grip. Then he sidled past the chairs heading straight for Brock. He was in his father's arms. The sight of these men who had a connection, and at least one hadn't known the other existed, who were hanging onto each other as if their lives depended on it, made Sofie's heart swell. She tried to hold back a sob. Hand to her mouth, it kind of worked. Rafael's eyes were shut tight, but that didn't hold back the silent tears that flowed through his long, dark lashes and down his cheeks. Brock's eyes were also screwed shut, and his lashes were wet.

A little while later, Brock pushed his son back at arm's length, checked him over, then yanked him in for another tight hug. If Sofie had been hugged like that, she would've passed out by now.

‘Why don't you all sit down,' Jennifer suggested, ‘and I'll break out some wine.'

‘Thanks, Jen,' Brock said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Sofie clearly read Brock's ‘holy crap' emotions rolling across his face and behind his eyes. He was in shock, ecstatic, fearful, but joyous.

Living a dream.

‘I'll help.' Sofie started to move, but Brock had other ideas.

‘No you don't, Sofe.' Arm around her waist, he murmured in her ear, ‘You belong here.'

‘Okay,' she replied softly, heart bursting with love and pride; she busied herself searching in her pockets for a tissue while trying to stop her mouth and chin from trembling.

‘Sofe?' Brock's hand appeared under her nose holding a wad of tissues.

She sniffled, grabbed the tissues, dabbed her eyes and nose, only then did she feel comfortable enough to raise her chin and say, ‘Thank you,' her tentative smile aimed at Brock. His mouth twitched as he ever so slightly shook his head. Sofie took a steadying breath and faced Rafael. ‘Gosh, sorry, Rafael, but that was overwhelming and so beautiful to see you two together like that.'

‘Please don't apologise,' Rafael gently told her, ‘especially not for something like this.' He took a deep breath and let it out. ‘But, I'm glad that's out of the way, finally. And please, just call me Raff … um … Raffie if you have to.' He ducked his head and grinned at his feet.

Giggling to cover her emotions, Sofie dabbed her eyes again, and said, ‘Like the tennis star?'

‘Yeah, not my idea.' Shrugging, he shook his head, as if saying, who names a baby Rafael?

‘I think it's a beautiful name,' Sofie sniffed, pulling herself together.

‘Sofe, you okay now?' Happy with her nod and kiss to his jaw, Brock pulled a chair out for her, and once she sat he dragged it close to his. He found her hand and placed it on his thigh.

Looking at their interaction, Rafael grinned. ‘Yeah, I'm glad I came.'

Brock didn't miss it and chuckled. ‘What's that smile for?' he asked.

‘Mum let me read her journals. In them it said you were always a gentleman.'

Brock fought back a grin and looking down at the table he mumbled, ‘She would say that.'

The restaurant door opened. Claudia and Michelle waltzed in ready for their afternoon shift. Two sets of bright, curious eyes darted their way.

Brock stood and motioned for the girls to come over. ‘Claudia, Michelle, I'd like you to meet Rafael Adumari—my son.'

‘Holy …!' Claudia exclaimed. ‘Where have you been hiding him?'

‘Crikey,' Michelle whispered, shocked, which was very unlike her.

Eyes huge and round, the girls stepped forward. Rafael stood leaning over the table, hand outstretched. A little awestruck, the girls took turns in shaking his hand.

Rafael still had some growing to do, but it was clear he had his father's build, he was a handsome young man, and best of all, his manners were impeccable.

Claudia's cheeks went pink and she fiddled with her hair.

But the ever-practical and down-to-earth Michelle quickly came to grips with the surprise and shook his hand. ‘Wow, a mini Rock.' She giggled. ‘A Pebble.' Her eyes darted around taking all of them in. Undeterred, she added, ‘Sorry, am I being a babbling twit?'

Rafael laughed, hard. When his laugh became a chuckle he said, ‘Not at all, in fact it's quite refreshing.'

Michelle's expression turned sceptical and curious all at the same time. She nudged Claudia who seemed to have lost the power of speech. So she carried on, ‘Well, it's nice to know we are refreshing. After the holidays when we're back at school, anyone looks down on us, I'll tell them Brock's Pebble said we're refreshing.'

‘Pardon?' Rafael said, head tilted to the side.

Michelle slanted her head in the opposite direction—was she mocking him?

‘You know … Brock? So locals call your dad “The Rock”, or just plain “Rock”. Not to his face of course; they might slip up occasionally. Brock just gives them a pained warning look that no one takes seriously.'

Rafael nodded and quietly laughed, ‘I can see it would be a way of expressing their admiration for someone like my dad.'