All for Family (The Rawley Family Romances Book 3) Read online

  Copyright © 2015 by Olivia Hardin

  Cover design by © Once Upon a Time Covers

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Fun Facts and Trivia from Olivia

  Be sure to sign up for my newsletter to get notified of new releases AND get a FREE book.

  Read more about the Rawley Family in All for Hope and Justice for All

  For YOU.

  Yes, YOU.

  The one who is perfectly imperfect.

  The one who is beautiful.

  The one who deserves to be loved.

  Meg couldn’t help the silly grin filling up her face as she listened to baby Melody grunt and coo in little bursts. The infant was perched on her mother’s knee, one drool-covered fist tight in her mouth while Hope jiggled her leg up and down. Every once in a while, Mel would wave her arms wide in excitement before scrunching them back up to her chest and chewing on her hand again.

  “Here she comes!” Hope squealed, and Meg’s eyes rose just in time to see her sister-in-law Kay emerge in a gorgeous white gown. The bodice was corset styled, strapless and covered in delicate beading that continued past her hips. The long flowing skirt of the dress emerged from under the bodice and fell in a pool of satin and lace.

  Kay frowned, her eyebrows pinched close together as she hiked up the lengths of material so that she could step up onto the pedestal in the center of the dressing room. She faced the mirror and cocked her head to one side and then the other as she examined her reflection.

  Sucking her lips into her mouth, Meg willed herself not to speak. This was the fourth dress, and Kay had looked ravishing in each one. But no matter how much Hope and Meg ooo’d and aaah’d, she had found something wrong with each one of them. Meg side-eyed Hope who apparently had the same idea because her lips were tightly sealed as well.

  Kay scrunched her shoulders up towards her ears a few times, then let them drop with a huge sigh. “My neck is weird.”

  Before Meg could make a response, there was a loud snort from the back of the room. All three pairs of eyes turned to see a slender yet buxom woman bounce into the room, her long ponytail of dark hair swishing behind her.

  “Tamara! You finally made it,” Kay exclaimed, grabbing up the skirt of the dress in both hands and practically running down to greet her friend.

  “It’s your man’s fault. Made me finish typing some damned boring judgment before I could get the hell outta dodge. Now let me look at this weird neck. Oh, my gawd!”

  “Shut up.” Kay smacked Tamara on the arm.

  Meg and Hope exchanged amused smiles, then Hope heaved herself forward, baby draped over one arm, and headed towards them. Meg stood back a few moments. The other three women were fairly close in age to one another, all still in their early to mid-thirties.

  Somehow, although she was only forty-two, Meg felt ancient at times like these. She put her hand on the arm of the couch and stood, waiting awkwardly as the younger women chattered and laughed. When baby Melody peeked over Hope’s shoulder at her, Meg gladly put out her arms and took the infant, eager for something to do with her hands besides wring them.

  “Hey, is that Michelle?” Tamara asked, finally noticing the little one.

  “Oh, no, if Michelle were here she’d be babbling like a chatty-Cathy and tugging on Kay’s lovely gown. No, this is the newbie, Melody.”

  Kay’s fiancé had been Hope’s attorney during some recent legal battles and Tamara was his legal assistant. Although the two hadn’t ever met face-to-face, they’d spoken on the phone many times.

  “Michelle’s visiting with her grandmother in Waco.”

  It was a long story that all of them knew well. Hope had kidnapped baby Michelle to save her from abuse at the hands of the child’s maternal grandfather. When Van finally got Hope off on lesser charges, the abuser went to prison and his wife soon realized what a monster she’d been married to all those years. She would occasionally send Michelle little trinkets, even though the baby had by then been legally adopted as Hope and her husband Brennan’s daughter.

  In her inimitable style, Hope had decided her daughter should have contact with her biological grandmother and nurtured the relationship while she and Brennan were still living in Port La Pena during her probationary period. Now that they’d moved back to New Durma, Deana Taggert wouldn’t have as much contact with Michelle. Still, Hope and Brennan made every effort for the woman to spend time with her grandchild.

  “So how many dresses have I missed?” Tamara asked, “And seriously, if you start talking about your neck again, I’m gonna wring it. You’re so freakin’ gorgeous you have no right to complain about any part of your body.”

  Meg grinned, instantly taking a liking to the woman. And it was true, Kay was gorgeous, and not a single dress she’d tried today had looked anything but amazing on her. Still, women were funny about such things, and Meg knew that as well as anyone. Bouncing Melody on her hip, she glanced down at her belly and tried to suck in a little tighter.

  “Well, I have one more I’ll put on, but then I need a break. It’ll be time for you ladies to step into the dressing room.”

  Meg glanced at the wall where a row of turquoise gowns was situated on a rack, waiting. She took a breath and swallowed, wishing she’d passed on being a bridesmaid. Didn’t Kay have younger, more attractive friends to ask? All the tightly held insecurities of her younger years were brimming up to the surface, and she could feel her cheeks getting flushed with nerves.

  “Want me to take her?” Hope asked, reaching her hands for the baby.

  Shaking her head, Meg forced a smile. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I think she needs a change though. I’ll just grab your bag and find the bathroom.”

  Before Hope could argue, she had the strap in hand and was rushing out of the room. After changing Melody’s diaper, she ran a paper towel under the cold tap and then held it to her neck as she sat down on a cushy chair just next to the door. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and it was all she could do to keep herself from having a full-blown panic attack.r />
  Melody must have sensed her anxiety because she began to grunt and wiggle on her lap. Bringing her up onto her shoulder, Meg patted her back and talked to her in gentle tones.

  “Shhh. Aunt Meg is being silly,” she said.

  A few minutes passed before she finally brokered the nerve to get up and leave the bathroom. About that time the door swung open, almost hitting her, and she gasped with a start.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, Meg. I was just coming to check on her. Is everything all right?” Hope asked, slipping her hands under the baby’s arms and taking the little one up against her chest. “Kay wants us to each grab a dress now and take a turn. I think she’s tired of the spotlight.”

  Meg opened her mouth but couldn’t find the right words to work her way out of the situation. Hope turned to head back into the dressing room while she stood there, agape. After a moment she licked her lips, lifted her chest and followed after her cousin-in-law with butterflies swarming in her belly.

  When she stepped into the dressing room and saw the other women with gowns held up to their bodies and giggling with excitement, she was reminded of another time, another wedding and another reason she should have found some way not to be a bridesmaid again.

  Jeremy stared at the cordless phone a few moments, standing stony in the hallway just outside his study. From inside, Brennan murmured a loud expletive and then there was a thump that Jeremy imagined was his cousin slamming his fist on the desk. Inhaling a long worried breath, he took a few steps forward and pressed his palm against the door to open it.

  “Don’t get cocky just yet, old man,” Bren looked up at him with a serious expression, “It’s just the top of the sixth and a lot can still happen. The Owls can still pull this one off.”

  They’d taken to wagering against one another frequently these days. Sometimes the bets were virtually ridiculous, such as last week when Brennan insisted his Uncle James would have a second helping of Cook’s lasagna that evening. But Jeremy knew his father well, and dessert would be paramount on the man’s mind. That day the patriarch of their family had purchased a chocolate cake from a woman in the village and then topped it off with getting a tub of vanilla ice cream to go along with it.

  James had held himself over for cake and ice cream in lieu of a second serving.

  Today the game was about college baseball. Jeremy didn’t follow the sport closely, but he’d seen a write-up on Oregon’s team, and he thought they could knock out the boys from Texas in their elimination round of the College World Series.

  “I never get cocky in wagers, cousin,” he responded blandly. “It’s very bad form, you know.”

  Bren only laughed. When Jeremy approached him, he used his pencil to point to some figures he’d scribbled onto a ledger pad. “Only two of those cottages really need septic upgrades. If you decided not to do the others, then you’d save enough money for that little pavilion your dad mentioned. And actually, I think we can do the pavilion for about half of that amount, so you could set aside the rest of the budget for any future issues with the septic systems.”

  After his long-lost cousin had re-emerged in their lives the year before, Jeremy had tutored him in the affairs of their estates, which included multiple ranches, farms and a few villages that they still managed to run in a way similar to the old noble estates in Europe. After Brennan’s wife had finished serving out her probation and they’d moved back to New Durma, Jeremy and Brennan began working on plans to update the homes in one of the neighboring villages.

  Now Jeremy studied the numbers as his cousin spoke, but his mind wasn’t really on them. He watched, distracted, as Brennan muttered an apology and erased one of the figures, correcting his math in an almost illegible script.

  “I think that’s a good plan. Daddy will like that especially. We’ve let the villagers use the gardens here for parties and events, but we’re not really close enough to make that feasible for them all the time. The pavilion would be more convenient, although we’d still make the manor available on request.”

  Brennan said something else, but by then Jeremy had drifted over to the window, peering out in silence. White noise filled his ears as he returned to deep thought about the telephone call he’d just taken. When his cousin tapped him on the shoulder a few minutes later, he shook his head to pull himself from his reverie.

  “You zoned out there. You okay?”

  He nodded and forced a smile. “Yes, sorry. What were you saying?”

  “I was asking if you wanted a sandwich. I’m starving.” As if to prove his point, he smacked himself in the belly.

  Jeremy’s grin turned into a chuckle. “It’s no wonder. All you had earlier were candy bars. I’ll follow you to the kitchen in a few. I need to make a phone call.”

  When the other man was gone, Jeremy fished his cell phone from his pocket and dialed his wife’s number. Waiting for it to ring, he seated himself at his desk and tapped his index finger against the wood nervously.

  “Hi there,” Meg’s bright voice spoke, and even after all of their years together, the sound of it made his chest fill with warmth. “I didn’t expect to hear from you this early. Are you having a good day?”

  “How are things going?” He ignored her question by asking one of his own even as he reached down and opened the bottom drawer of the desk.

  “Something’s wrong,” she deduced, then voice rising, “Is it the boys? Has something happened to one of them?”

  “No, no, Meg. The boys are fine. They’re out fishing with Daddy. We’re fine.”

  She was silent a moment then he heard shuffling and a little whimper. He imagined she probably had Melody in her arms. His Meg loved babies.

  “Jeremy, you might as well tell me. Even from hundreds of miles away I can tell that something isn’t right.”

  He fingered the stack of letters tied together in the back of the drawer. Each one had his name and address, written in enormous loops. Her handwriting was all big flourishes, just like the woman herself.

  “Jeremy …”

  He ground his teeth, then closed the drawer and leaned back in his chair. “I had a call this morning. From Rhonda.”

  He heard her inhale a sharp breath. “Rhonda? What in the world did she want from you?”

  “She was looking for you, but the only place she knew to find you was here at the manor. She doesn’t have our cell phones. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to talk to her so I didn’t give her your number.”

  Meg was quiet a moment, then he heard her swallow. “I don’t mind talking to her. Did she say what she wanted?”

  He inclined his head, though she couldn’t see the gesture. “It’s about Ray. He’s sick, Meg.” Jeremy hated that he couldn’t be with her at that moment. A lot of pain had been caused by Raymond Slack, and reopening that wound wasn’t something either of them expected to have to face. But there was no use sugar-coating things, so he pressed ahead. “He’s dying and he wants to see you.”

  Twelve Years Earlier

  Meg eyed the half-eaten plate of spaghetti on the counter as she finished slathering low calorie cream cheese onto several stalks of celery. It would be easy to just grab the plate and eat the yummy pile of meat, cheese and pasta. She considered it for all of two seconds, then grabbed it from the table and jerked the plate over the garbage disposal so that the remains fell off with a thunk. She refused to watch the stuff go down the drain as she flipped on the faucet and turned on the disposal.

  The sound of the toilet in the hallway flushing caught her attention. She waited and hoped he would make his way upstairs instead of coming her direction. “Holy shit! Orange? She picked orange?”

  Stuffing celery into her mouth, Meg looked up at as he came into the kitchen. She hoped her chewing would keep him from trying to engage her in conversation. No such luck.

  “Seriously? Orange. Couldn’t you talk her out of that?”

  “It’s not orange, Ray,” Meg said as she seated herself at the breakfast table. “It’s tangerine.”


  Her rolled his brown eyes and sat down across from her. His disgusted expression turned uglier when he eyed her meal over his nose. “What is that?”

  “Don’t you have something to do? Something not here?”

  Raymond drew back with a hurt look, then reached out to stick his finger into some of the cream cheese. “Hmmm. Not terrible. But not great.”

  Meg refused to respond, just chugged down some of her bottled water and started nibbling another stalk.

  “You’re not making this easy.”

  She licked some cheese from her lips and then pushed the plate away. “It’s a divorce, Ray. It’s not supposed to be easy.”

  He cast his eyes down and drew a long breath. His expression had turned to something between perplexed and annoyed. “The divorce is done, Meg. It’s been over six months now. Can’t we just go back to the way things used to be?”

  “I told you the day I signed the papers that maybe, just maybe, one day we can be friends again. But it will never be the same. Too much water under the bridge. Let’s just be glad it didn’t get so bad that one of us burned this bridge down.”

  He nodded as if in agreement, though she knew he still didn’t get it. He probably never would. “I can go stay somewhere else. If you’re that uncomfortable.”

  She stood and approached the sink, putting all of their dishes into the dishwasher. When that chore was done, she stopped and put hands on the counter, leaning forward. “I am uncomfortable, Ray. But how are we going to convince Rhonda we’re still happily married if you’re sleeping at Dave or Bob’s place? No, I promised I’d do this, for her and not for you. I just want you to stop pretending everything is hunky-dory”

  She waited until she heard the screech of his chair pushing away from the table and then his footsteps walking away. Tears stung her eyes, but it wouldn’t do any good to cry. She wasn’t really even sure why she would be crying. Perhaps just for all of the hopes she’d pinned her dreams on that hadn’t panned out.