Chapter 53: Rules of the House
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"It's about time someone other than my mother lost consciousness," Laura murmured.
Rachel turned her head against the silk pillowcase, finding herself in her bedroom. The windows were partially curtained, revealing just a hint of moonlight. Laura sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers poised around a crystal glass.
"That better not be vodka," Rachel deadpanned.
Laura pursed her lips and pushed the glass into Rachel's hand. "Water. Drink it."
Rachel reluctantly followed the order.
"Where's my baby?" she asked.
"Pretty sure it's still in there," Laura gestured lazily to Rachel's belly under the sheet.
Rachel glared at her. "I meant Fletcher."
"He was just up here sitting with you. I replaced him so he could finally go get some rest."
Rachel looked around the otherwise empty room in confusion. "Who carried me up here?"
Laura frowned. "Who do you think?"
Rachel was silent for a moment, remembering the situation that had caused her to end up here.
"He's furious with me, isn't he?"
Laura sniffed and looked away. "I'm sure he won't be for long."
Rachel's brow furrowed as she watched the young woman rise and head for the door. Before the door could close behind her, Frank entered and walked slowly over to the bed.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gravelly.
Rachel gave a weary shrug against the pillow. "I'm tired. Overwhelmed. How's Fletcher?"
Frank looked down at his hands as he stood beside the bed. "He's fine. He, uh, took Crystal to his room."
Rachel was a bit stunned. "Is that really appropriate right now?"
Frank chewed the inside of his mouth for an awkward moment then made direct eye contact with her. "I told him to."
Rachel was strangely warmed by his confession. It wasn't something a father would have encouraged his son to do. It was something a grown man would encourage a young man to do.
"Why?" she asked, searching his face, utterly bemused.
"She was too scared to sleep alone."
The emotional intelligence of such a statement floored Rachel. Perhaps he was not ready to father a son, but he was certainly ready to father a daughter.
Not knowing what to say, Rachel bit her lip and looked away. She felt his added weight as he settled onto the side of the bed.
"I didn't know it was you that I pushed," he murmured apologetically, his hand lightly touching her knee.
She met his gaze again, staggered by the guilt simmering in his eyes.
"How does your back feel?" he asked earnestly.
Rachel shifted experimentally. "It's fine."
He seemed to sigh in relief. "You really scared me, Rachel. You were out cold for almost ten minutes."
She shivered. "Did I fall when…?"
He shook his head. "Fletcher caught you."
This piece of information made Rachel want to cry. "And you carried me," she murmured.
"Fletcher helped."
She looked up at him, wishing she could see even the slightest hint of a smile. But there was none to be found.
Her tone turned more serious as she asked, "Whose car was it that tried to break down the gate?"
"We don't know," Frank admitted.
"Do you still want to leave this place today?"
He looked down and simply nodded.
She sighed.
"I want to take you to your OB one more time before we leave," he said softly.
She furrowed her brow. "My next appointment isn't until the week of Thanksgiving."
He swallowed. "I just want to check that the baby is okay… after…"
She watched the odd little gestures he was making with his hand, trying to reference the accident that he had regrettably caused, without using words.
"Promise me you won't beat yourself up about this," she whispered.
That was the first time she noticed the dark circles under his stormy blue eyes. "I already have."
Rachel's heart sank. She tried to reach out and hold his hand, but he shifted so that his hands were out of reach.
In an effort to make him feel better, she said, "I can still feel her kicking."
"Good," he muttered bitterly, "her dad deserves to be kicked."
Rachel shook her head sadly. "It's your voice, honey. She moves when she hears your voice."
Frank squeezed his eyes shut, tension wrought in his hands where they splayed over his thighs.
"I know you would never push me like that, Frank." She said the words more to assure herself than him. Because the longer they talked about this, the more long-repressed memories resurfaced of Marcus hitting her, scratching her, knocking her to the ground. She was now in a relationship with a man who was perhaps ten times as deadly, having to trust that his hand would never become her enemy.
"I wouldn't," Frank choked on the words, turning to look at her, promise blazing in his eyes. "I told you—I'm not him."
"I know," she repeated. She swallowed hard, studying his impassive face, still haunted by his forceful rejection of her body when she'd tried to save him. "But I know you're still angry with me," she said.
He took a deep breath and exhaled, thinking over his next words.
"Do you know what the 'line of fire' is?" he finally asked.
Rachel nodded slowly.
"That's a place for me to stand. Not you." His stonelike words broke her heart.
"We're partners, Frank. If I put myself in harm's way to protect you, that's a choice I'm free to make."
His jaw twitched. "You're my principal."
"Only on paper."
He looked skyward with a bitter wince. "Why do you make this so difficult?"
"If wanting to protect the man I love is me making things difficult, then this relationship will never work."
"It's not working now, Rachel. Because you're not letting me do my job."
She sat up in the bed then, her face inches from his. "I don't care what your job is. For one second, just forget those fucking three grand paychecks and listen to me," she said, grabbing his collar. "I love you. That's a loophole for every rule in the book. If you fight for me, then I'm fighting for you. You can't stop me."
"I know that, Rachel. But right now your job is to fight for her," he rasped, his warm hand resting against her belly. "And that means staying where it's safe. Where I tell you to stay."
Rachel didn't know how it was possible to despise so deeply what he was saying, yet still love him so damn much.
"What do you think I'd do if you died?" she asked, tears prickling in her eyes.
With a deadly expression, he threw the question back at her. "What do you think I'd do if you died?" His voice shook as he curled his hand around her belly again. "And you took her with you?"
Even entertaining the thought for an instant was too much for Rachel to handle.
"I don't know," she whispered tremulously.
"I don't know either," he replied, a lethal depth to his voice she'd never heard before. "And that scares the fuck out of me."
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Sometime before four A.M., Rachel had fallen fast asleep in Frank's arms. He watched her the entire time, unable to relax enough to join her in slumber. Around an hour later he stirred at the distinct sound of voices outside the door. Still in his clothes from the day before, he walked out into the hall to see what was going on.
Pettigrew was there with Fitzgerald in the massive foyer, talking to a group of police officers. Pentecost Manor was about to be an investigation scene. Unfortunately he also knew this would delay their departure until they had all given separate witness statements of what had happened last night.
The cops stayed for about four hours, talking to all of the individuals in the manor. Frank not only fed them information concerning last night, but all of the information he had gathered from every suspicious event that had occurred between now and their time in Leona Valley. Even if he doubted the competency of the local police, he was at least comforted to know someone else could carry that burden for a time.
Julie and Laura seemed oddly saddened that their house guests were now leaving after such a harrowing event. Julie confided in Frank that Fitzgerald planned to take her and Laura off to Saint Martin island for some time to recuperate. Frank felt an odd surge of jealousy at this, despite his general hatred for the beach. Escaping to a tropical paradise to unwind sounded like a strangely appealing venture.
"I know you're probably never planning to set foot in L.A. again," Julie told him, her eyes alight with humor, "but if you ever need a 'Hollywood favor' you just give me a call, alright, Farmer?"
Having a connection as powerful as Julie Pentecost might not prove to be such a bad thing in the future, Frank thought as he said his goodbyes. He would have done the polite thing and shook Laura's hand, too, but she hadn't offered it, which was probably for the best.
As he passed through the door to leave, he heard Fitzgerald murmur to Rachel, "Your boyfriend is pretty high up in the food chain out there. I wouldn't worry about him."
Frank smirked to himself, not because of the compliment itself, but because of Rachel's adoring reaction.
Earlier that morning Pettigrew had purchased a new GMC Suburban directly off the lot with Rachel's cash. As soon as he'd arrived back at the mansion, they packed their things into the vehicle as Crystal and Fletcher unraveled the map to Coarsegold. Considering it a minor risk to have Frank's recognizable truck out on the road, Frank reluctantly agreed to leave it behind with Ricky and Tony. They promised to meet up with the rest of the group in a few days' time after finishing up with the police investigation at Pentecost Manor.
The next stop was Rachel's OB. Frank could feel his anxiety diminishing with every checkbox off the list. He waited with bated breath throughout the ultrasound until the tech confirmed the baby was okay.
Frank's eyes lingered on the screen, watching in wonder as her tiny legs wriggled restlessly about. And for the first time in weeks he felt his heart rate drop to a somewhat reasonable tempo.
After the scan was over, Rachel was left in the room to speak with the midwife while Dr. Lacey pulled Frank aside in the hallway.
"Rachel's doing really well. But her blood pressure has been a little higher these last two visits. I'm a bit concerned about her stress levels." Dr. Lacey tilted her head as she inspected Frank's face. "Are you two… living together?"
"Yes."
Dr Lacey looked relieved. "Good. I'm sensing she just really needs the support right now. Anything you can do to help her relax, keep her calm—I think it would go a long way."
Frank nodded tightly.
"Are you okay?" The doctor's question caught him off guard.
"Yeah," he lied, offering a convincing smile.
She paused for a moment, her voice lower when she next spoke. "I know you took a bullet for her. Not many women can say a man has done that for them literally. So I know you'll do everything in your power to help her through this."
"I guess it's a good thing we only have one trimester left," he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I didn't just mean for the rest of her pregnancy. I meant beyond that."
He must have looked stunned because she smiled a bit and continued, "As a woman with a PhD, I'm pretty capable of piecing things together." She sighed heavily, shaking her head. "I'm a single mom, too. I wouldn't wish it on anyone, especially if she has a man like you in her life."
Reading between the lines with Dr. Lacey was far too easy. Those lines were about a mile apart. It wasn't hard for him to interpret what she was actually saying.
Put a ring on it, fool.
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Rachel had never been happier to sleep during a car ride again. After the insane events of the evening, she had needed the rest. Five hours really wasn't a long enough drive for her, and by the time they arrived at their new house the sun had just started to set.
The house still had about a month or so left to go for finishing touches, but it was perfectly livable as is. Earlier that day, their moving team had worked double time to provide some of the basic furnishings they had requested, ensuring that the necessary amenities were up and running.
The house was stunning. It was only slightly more contemporary than the cabin in Tahoe, while still featuring that rustic kind of flair. Rachel never thought she would consider a home to be too big after living in Beverly Hills for a good portion of her life – but standing there in the lofty entryway, staring up at the detailed wooden beams and sprawling skylights, she wondered if her demands for grandeur had been gratuitous. If it had been up to Frank, the place would not have been this big.
He looked pleased enough as he walked the grounds, however, and when he looked at her, she saw a long-forgotten twinkle of joy in his eyes again.
"It looks amazing, Mom," Fletcher praised, walking through the open floor plan while Crystal followed him, eyes wide.
"Doesn't it?" Rachel agreed, leaving her shoes by the doorway so she could shuffle around the new floor in her socks. She noticed only after she had removed her shoes that Crystal felt comfortable removing her own.
Rachel didn't have to drop any hints for her son that evening. He offered to make dinner himself, and from the very first bite of penne arrabiata, Rachel could see that Crystal was head over heels.
Rachel wasn't really spying on them. She just happened to notice that they left the dining room at the same time following dinner. And she just happened to excuse herself shortly after. And she just happened to see Crystal and Fletcher kiss each other in the darkness of the hallway.
They hadn't seen her, but she had seen them.
It was assumed after dinner that they would all be retiring for the night, considering the lack of sleep they'd all suffered from the night prior. Though the house had seven bedrooms, not all of them had been furnished yet, and there was the uncomfortable question of deciding who would sleep in which room of the three that were finished.
"Scott should have his own room," Fletcher said quietly to Rachel on their way upstairs. "And Crystal will obviously have her own, too. I'll sleep on the couch downstairs," he offered.
Rachel bit her lip. Her son was ignorant to the fact that she'd known he had already shared a room with Crystal once. Was it such a crime to allow them to do it again? Parenthood was always such a strange, twisted, ever-changing battle of decisions, no matter how old her baby got.
"I think that's very considerate of you, baby," Rachel told him, rubbing his shoulder. He gave her a warm smile as he carried the rest of her suitcases into the master suite.
"Scott and I are going to make sure the house's security system is up and running," Frank said as soon as he saw Fletcher.
"I want to help," Fletcher said earnestly. Rachel frowned.
"It'll only take fifteen minutes," Frank said.
Rachel nodded and Fletcher made his way out the door.
Frank closed the distance between them as soon as Fletcher was out of sight.
"No more than fifteen minutes," Rachel whispered into his neck.
He kissed her temple and sidled out the door. Rachel peeked out into the hallway to watch them go back downstairs, and she noticed Crystal standing hesitantly by her bedroom door in the hallway.
Rachel gestured emphatically for the girl to come to her bedroom, and Crystal did so with a grateful smile.
"I'm sorry about last night," Rachel said, bringing her in for a hug.
"It's okay."
"It's really not, though. These things were not in your job description," Rachel said as she settled on the bed.
"I'm not walking out on this job, Rachel," the girl said resolutely. "I really care about you… and your family."
Rachel's heart warmed at the fact that she'd so easily called them a family. She gestured for Crystal to join her on the bed. "You've got a family, too, back in Tahoe."
Crystal shrugged. "There's not much for me out there. Everything is the same as it was when I was a little kid."
Rachel snickered. "Yeah, I think that's why Frank likes it so much."
"My parents always thought he would move back, but he never did."
Her words piqued Rachel's interest. "Do you remember Frank from when you were little?"
Crystal nodded. "Yeah, he didn't come out too often, but when he did he used to stay with his dad for a few weeks at a time." An amused smile crossed her lips. "I remember one time my little brother climbed a tree too high, and Frank had to get him down."
Rachel laughed loudly, imagining the scene quite clearly in her head. "Yeah, that sounds about right."
"He's still a troublemaker," Crystal said. "Not Frank, my brother," she clarified with a laugh.
"You miss your little brother?"
"He's hardly 'little' anymore. He's almost nineteen."
"And you're almost twenty-one. I remember when I turned twenty-one. I wasn't half as mature as you are," Rachel said with an irreverent laugh. "But it's when I became a mama."
Crystal smiled fondly. "You raised a wonderful son."
Rachel's heart quickened. "I know I did. He's my pride and joy."
The girl's cheeks turned pink as she looked away.
"I think he likes you," Rachel said quietly, watching as Crystal's eyes lifted slightly to peek over at her.
"I like him, too."
Rachel grinned. "Well, if he comes knocking on your door at night, you can let him in."
Crystal looked up in shock.
"Us young mothers have different house rules," Rachel shrugged. "We still remember what it was like to be your age."
Crystal beamed, and reached out to hug Rachel once more before they whispered their goodnights.
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If he hadn't taken so damn long to do his security checks, Rachel wouldn't have dozed off while waiting for Frank to come back upstairs.
She woke with a start when she heard him open the door and approach the bed.
"Did you tell Fletcher to go into Crystal's room?" he hissed accusingly in the dark.
She turned on her pillow to give him an impish smile. "No. I just told Crystal she could let him in if he knocked."
Frank put his head in his hand.
"What? You were the one who told Fletcher to take her to bed just the other night!"
"I didn't tell him to 'take her to bed,' Rachel! I told him they should share a room so that she wouldn't have to be alone." He was surprisingly frantic about it, which Rachel found hilarious. "Jesus, you make it sound like I gave him orders to defile her."
"Here I was thinkin' you were playing cupid."
"You know me better than that." He sat on the edge of the bed and began to unbutton his shirt.
"Well, I don't know why you suddenly have such a problem with it. They're both adults."
"Fletcher's nineteen. She's twenty."
"Oh, I see, so when it comes to firearms, he's a 'grown man,' but when it comes to sex he's a child," Rachel snarked.
"Just one of the thousand things that you and I have different views on," Frank muttered.
"Don't you remember when you were that age, Farmer?" Rachel asked, her keen eyes following the fluid motion of his hands as he removed his shirt and tossed it to the side. "You mean to tell me you weren't taking girls down to that lake at night without your father's permission?"
He only scoffed, and by his sudden inability to provide a reply, Rachel supposed she had hit the nail on the head.
"You were soakin' in something, and it sure as hell wasn't lakewater," she giggled with glee.
"One girl, Rachel," he said forcefully, holding up one finger. "I took one girl to the lake. Once. One time."
"Uh huh. And you were how old?"
"I was around Fletcher's age," he said grudgingly. "Eighteen maybe."
"So you tell me now, is it so bad?"
"It was pretty bad." He laughed in a gruff, self-deprecating sort of way, which made Rachel laugh harder.
"That wasn't what I meant," she said, tucking her ankle around his side to pull him closer.
He avoided eye contact with her, still smiling bashfully as she twisted her fingers in his hair. "He's your son, Rachel. I guess you can decide when he's ready for those things."
"He decides when he's ready," she corrected. "I just give him my blessing."