Clarice stepped away and doused herself with the repellant. Benny took slow, quiet breaths until her heart ceased its hammering, until she could stop picturing her Cricket with an arm growing out of her thigh, or sprouting a single eye in the center of her forehead, brought about by accidental exposure to bug-death-in-a-can.
“Peter leaves for Cape May tomorrow.” Clarice blew across the top of her mug. “He seems excited.”
“I’m a little jealous. I haven’t been to the beach in years.”
“You should go. It’s not that far of a ride.”
“It is on a scooter.”
Clarice waved at the gnats circling her head. “You can borrow the car whenever you like. Or go with someone else who has a car.”
Benny rolled her eyes. “Or a truck?”
“A truck would work, too. What about Johanna? I imagine she heads down to the Cape every once in a while to check on things. Hitch a ride with her. Or go with Savannah. You could probably both use a break from the farm. You have many friends in this town who would love to see more of you.”
Benny pursed her lips. The kitchen might be her mother’s domain, subtlety was not. “Someone like Dan Greene?”
“Now that you mention it…”
“Ma.”
Clarice’s burst of musical laughter surprised her. “Oh, settle down, Benedetta. You can’t blame me for trying.”
“Why do you even?” Benny grumbled. “This way you get to keep me here forever.”
“Heavens, why would you say such a thing?”
Benny glanced up at her mother. “Isn’t it what you want? To always have me and Peter here?”
Clarice patted Benny’s knee. “Now that is what they call a double-edged sword, Benedetta. Of course I want you always with me. But I want you to be happy. Wherever and with whomever you wish. I mean that with all my heart.”
“Then why are you always going on about Tim moving so far away?”
“Should I not miss my son?”
“I didn’t say that.” Benny slumped back in the swing. “But it makes him feel bad to think he’s hurting you by living in North Carolina.”
Clarice Grady sipped her tea, wiped the rim free of the rose-petal pink lipstick she always wore. “It is a fine line to walk, sweetheart, being a mother. Many fine lines, in fact. You tell me, Benny. What is worse? To have him feel bad that he lives so far away? Or have him feel bad that his mother couldn’t care less he does? I let him know I miss him, but I don’t hound him. If he feels bad, that’s on him, not me. Right or wrong, it’s my line. It’s not so easy. You’ll see. One day.”
Benny opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. She watched her mother out of the corner of her eye as she had learned to watch Augie. There was something about looking sideways that gave a perspective she’d never gotten before.
What others think of you is none of your business.
Where had she heard that before? Maybe her mother. Maybe some social media feed. It was nevertheless true. A lifetime of rebellion, six years of complacency—neither had as much to do with Clarice Grady as they did with Benny herself. Thought became thought. She lowered her mug. “Ma?”
“Yes, Benny?”
“I was wondering if you’d go with me someplace.”
“Where to?”
“Brooklyn,” Benny answered. “Didn’t your family live there?”
“Bensonhurst, yes. Oh, my. I haven’t been there in years. I think there might still be cousins in the area. Why do you want to go there?”
Benny considered lying, and settled for half the truth. “It’s for a friend. An older guy I met at the cemetery one day.”
“Oh? Who?”
“Just some old guy.” Benny hedged around the truth. “He doesn’t live in Bitterly. Relatives are buried here, though. He’s looking for someone, his daughter, and has been a long time. The last he was able to track her down was a restaurant in Bensonhurst, but he can’t travel so far. I thought, maybe, I could go into the city and see if I can find her, let her know he’s looking for her.”
“That’s awfully nice of you, Benny.”
“I feel bad for him. He’s such a nice old man, and he feels…stuck. He says he made a promise to her and never kept it, and before he moves on, he wants to somehow keep it. When he mentioned Brooklyn, I remembered that’s where you’re from, and thought it would be a good opportunity for us to take a ride down.”
“Really?” Clarice’s eyes glistened. Benny hadn’t the heart to tell her the idea only just came to her, even if it was sincere.
“If you want to, I mean. It’s a long way.”
“Not very. Three hours maybe. So. A restaurant? In Little Italy?”
“Isn’t Little Italy in Manhattan?”
“Not if you’re from Brooklyn.” Her mother wagged a finger. “Just ask anyone in Bensonhurst. Do you know the name of the restaurant?”
“On the Fire. It’s on—”
“On Eighty-sixth Street?” Clarice nearly dumped her tea. “Of course I know it. And you’ve been there. Well, not at the actual restaurant, but do you remember when we had Christmas Eve dinner with my cousin? You were eight or nine.”
“Carmella?”
“You do remember.”
“I was nine, and there were a gazillion people packed into her very small apartment. That was in Brooklyn?”
“It was, and my cousin is a terrible cook. The food came from On the Fire. It was my favorite place, once upon a time. Could it still be open?”
“According to the internet it is. So you want to go with me?”
“I would love to, Benny. But can we make it after the Fourth of July? I have so much cooking to do between now and then with the town picnic and contests. I am determined to win one of those blue ribbons this year.”
“What are you talking about? You won three last year.”
Clarice waved her hand. “Two for pies and one for bread. I’ve had my sights set on the meatball win ever since Addie Coco died, rest her soul, and Beanie D’Angelo moved to Florida.”
“Your meatballs have always been at least as good.”
“You’re sweet, and maybe a little biased, but I agree. Let’s see what the judges say this year.”
Benny kissed her mother’s cheek. “If they have any real taste-buds, the ribbon is yours. So, Brooklyn? How about the week after the Fourth? Any day but Wednesday. That’s Savvy’s only day off. I can’t take another one.”
Cold heat rushed to Benny’s face, but if Clarice noticed her slip, she let it slide. “Monday’s perfect. This is going to be fun.”
“We can drive down to Southeast Station,” she said quickly. “Take a train into the City.”
“Or I could just drive.”
“You? Drive all the way into the City?”
“What do you think of me, Benedetta?” Clarice shook her head. “Just because I don’t leave Bitterly much doesn’t mean I haven’t, or I can’t.”
“I know. Sorry.”
“I suppose it’s my own fault, you kids thinking I have no interests outside my family and home. I do, Benny. Honest. I just keep it mostly to myself.”
“Like what?”
“Oh, you wouldn’t be interested in—”
“Ma.”
“All right, all right.” Clarice laughed that musical sound Benny couldn’t remember hearing often enough. And though the bugs bit and the tea grew cold, Benny listened to her mother talk. About the family genealogy she’d been researching since college, an endeavor begun as a senior project and carried through her life. About the records from Italy that were nearly impossible to attain, and how she’d focused on the very small part of the family from England instead. About her mother’s mother, Grace, who was English, making Benny less Italian than she was Irish despite identifying with her Mediterranean blood. Benny listened to every word, her heart itching and stitching to hear the passion in her mother’s voice. It wriggled a little looser i
n her chest, dangerously closer to cracking open too wide for her to close up again.
Chapter 14
Its Twinkling Web
Loading lambs into their crates was sweaty work, but it was the last job of the day. The usually gentle critters wriggled and flailed. Benny got two in and was struggling with a third when Savannah shouted her name.
“Amber, take the lamb,” she called one of the high school students, pulled Benny aside. “Are you nuts?”
“What?”
Savannah put her hands on her hips. Benny’s face burned. “Oh, yeah. Dumb, huh?”
“Very. No lifting anything heavier than a small watermelon, especially if it has the potential to kick you.” Savannah tucked an arm through Benny’s, and started them toward the empty farmstand. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine. Why? Did you find something in the ultrasound after—”
“Relax, Ben.” Savannah laughed softly. “Everything is fine with the baby, as far as I can tell. I’m talking about you. You okay? You seem distracted even for you.”
Though she had not stopped in at the cemetery the last few days, there had been no sign of Augie. The trip to Brooklyn with her mother loomed. And as if the little cricket jumping around inside her wasn’t enough to remind her of her responsibility to Dan, the ultrasound picture staring back at her from her fridge every single day did the job. Connected thoughts, feelings, worries and fears trailed after her from morning through night. Crowning it all was the town picnic and agricultural fair that kicked Savvy’s into a frenzy of preparations, today being worst of all. The event itself would be a relief.
“There’s just so much to do,” Benny said. “And I still have to go home and dig out my camping gear for tonight.”
“I told you, you don’t have to stay with the animals,” Savannah scolded. “The kids will do it.”
“There are rules about having an adult on site for a reason.”
“I guess you’re right. I’m sorry I can’t do it myself. They’re my lambs. They just don’t like me.”
“Maybe because they know they’re going to end up in your freezer.”
“Benny, you’re terrible.” Savannah’s laughter sobered quickly. Fingers to temples, she rubbed slow circles that made her face contort. “But maybe that’s it.”
Benny shooed a fly buzzing too close to her face.
Savannah’s hands fell to her sides. “What are you doing?”
“This fly won’t leave me be.”
“What fly?”
Buzz-whiz-buzz-buzz-buzz. Benny yanked her hood up over her head. “It’s gone. Don’t worry about me or the lambs. It’ll be fun.”
“You’ll call me if you need me, right?”
“Promise.”
“I’ll be there with breakfast, bright and early. I already put an order in at CC’s for a dozen cinnamon chip scones.”
“A dozen?”
“The kids’ll eat them. And if they don’t, more for us.”
The farmstand was nearly empty. Moving the produce and preserves to the Green was a lot of work, but worth it. They’d sell it all. Always did. Not only did the whole town show up for the big picnic, but so did all the out-of-staters, their families and friends. It was Bitterly’s most profitable day of the year.
“Looks like we’re about done here,” Benny said. “Anything else you need from me?”
“Nope. Go home. I’ll have the kids unload everything and pitch the tent. You just show up.”
“Eight o’clock?”
“No earlier.”
“Yes, boss.” Benny smiled, kissed Savannah’s cheek and left the farmstand. She spotted a familiar truck in the gravel lot. Her stomach clenched but Benny didn’t race to her scooter and drive away. Instead, she took a deep breath, let it go slowly, and approached the man loading bushel-baskets of potatoes into the bed of his truck. “Hey, Dan.”
He spun, the potatoes in the basket flew out. He tried to grab them, lost his grip on the basket entirely, and the whole thing tumbled, potatoes rolling under his truck. Dan stared down at the mess, shaking his head. “I’ll never get into Juilliard with those moves.”
Benny laughed. “My fault, my fault. Let me help you.”
“It’s okay. I got this.”
Benny helped him anyway. Dan’s face was bright red from cheeks to ears, and though it might have been the heat, Benny was pretty sure it wasn’t. He got down on his hands and knees to reach the potatoes under the truck, handing them up to her one at a time. Putting them into the basket resting on the tailgate, she tried not to notice his shirt riding up, the tanned muscles of his back, or that she knew the waistband poking out from his jeans belonged to boxers, not briefs.
“I think that’s it.” He rose to his feet, brushing off his hands. “Where were we before I tried to impress you with my grace?”
“I was just saying hello.” Benny smiled up at him, squinting against the sunlight. “I don’t have to ask if you’ll be at the picnic tomorrow.”
“Haven’t missed one yet.”
“Me either. Gads, does that mean we’re old or boring?”
“Probably both.”
She stuck her tongue out at him. It felt good. So good. Benny quelled the tremor scolding her. In her mind’s eye, she placed a hand on her belly. In reality, she stuck it in her pocket.
“You going to be on the Green tonight,” she asked, “keeping watch?”
“I have a shift, yeah. You?”
“I’m spending the night with the lambs.”
“By yourself?”
“The lambs will be there.”
He chuckled. “I guess I’ll see you there, then.”
Inside her head, Benny was hyperventilating. She inhaled and held it. “I’ll make a thermos of cocoa, if you want to hang a bit,” she exhaled the words, hoping she didn’t sound as dizzy as she felt.
“It all depends?”
She blinked, the dizziness fading. Dan was smiling down on her, his pale-green eyes crinkling in the corners.
“On?”
“Whether it’s the kind Johanna makes, or the crap they serve in the coffeehouse.”
“The Johanna kind, of course.”
“Then I’ll be there. My shift is nine to midnight.”
“Great.” She patted the side of the truck as if it were a loyal dog, or a trusty steed. “I—uh—I’ll see you later then.”
Benny hurried off. Her heart fluttered in tandem with the little cricket wriggling in her belly, as if she’d known her daddy was nearby and was trying to out her mama. Soon, she told her unborn child. I promise.
Helmet on, Benny started her scooter and pushed up the kickstand. She resisted the urge to turn and wave, unsure if it was because she was afraid he’d be watching, or afraid he wouldn’t be. Late afternoon stretched sunshine on the road ahead of her, bright and dappling through the trees. The wind kissed her face. Hope jiggled at the already-picked and mostly-dangling lock on her heart. And if luck was at all in sync with the moment, Johanna would have a few mud cookies left to go with the cocoa Benny would beg the recipe for.
* * * *
Teenagers piled into cars and trucks, balancing boxes and baskets of produce, jarred preserves, and even a crate full of ducklings on their laps. Somewhere in the background, Savannah shouted after them to wear seat belts, the big truck loaded with crated lambs rumbled to life. Dan Greene was still standing beside the tailgate of his pickup when silence fell and dust settled, wondering what in the hell had just happened.
“Everything okay, Daniel?”
He turned to Savannah’s familiar drawl, afraid the smile on his face was the dreamy kind. He tried furrowing his brow, but the smile wouldn’t quit. “I dropped some potatoes,” he managed to say.
“I noticed.” She pushed the basket into the truck bed and closed the tailgate. “I also noticed you talking to Benny.”
“I noticed that too.”
Savannah touched
his arm, snagging his full attention. “Did she say something to stupefy you?”
“Yeah, she did.”
“You going to expand upon that or leave me guessing?”
Dan shook off the lingering euphoria, attempting to smile without doing so stupidly. “She asked me if I wanted to hang out a bit tonight. She’s making me hot cocoa.”
Savannah’s shoulders slumped. She rifled through the basket of potatoes as if she’d dropped something into it. “Well, that’s nice. It’s something, at least. A start.”
“What? Did you think she propositioned me or something?” Dan snickered. “I’m a man of high moral standards, I’ll have you know.”
“A regular paragon of purity.” Savannah backed away from the tailgate to look up at him, hands on her hips. “I’m glad she’s talking to you again instead of running away. It’s hard to keep quiet when people you love are hurting.”
There was more. It was all over her face, in between words she didn’t say. Dan had been one of the first to greet her when she first stepped foot in town, but Savannah Callowell was still a mystery he didn’t think he had the skills to unravel. Whatever her thoughts, Dan let her keep them. He didn’t have it in him to discuss Benny, what she meant to him, or all the contradictory emotions worming between them. She was making him cocoa. She wanted to ‘hang a bit.’ At the moment, it was all Dan’s head had room for.
Getting out of his truck in his driveway, Dan didn’t remember driving home. He had planned on going straight to the Green, to see if anyone could use his help. When he decided to go home and shower, he didn’t know, but it was exactly what he was going to do.
“Evelyn?” he called as he stepped inside the house. It was unusually quiet and he remembered both the kids were staying with friends through the Fourth. It was a day both he and his sister pretended had no other significance than being the nation’s birthday and Bitterly’s most festive day of the year. Evelyn hadn’t gone to the town picnic more than a few times since their parents’ deaths. Dan had forced himself to go those first years, and thereafter wanted to again. His father had taken way too much from him. He’d not be taking the best day of the Bitterly year from him too.
Upstairs, Evelyn’s voice, hushed and agitated, halted him in the hall. Dan walked quietly to her room. The door was open. He poked his head in. His sister held up a finger and he gave her privacy. In his own rooms above what used to be a garage and was now a family room, Dan relaxed. His own space, a quiet one where he didn’t have to be funny or protective or all-around nice. Just a bedroom, sitting room, and his own bathroom—all the house he needed.
Dreaming August Page 12
