by Skye Taylor
“That’s not it. Or not all of it. She doesn’t know what she wants to do with herself.”
“I thought she was going to apply for the police force.”
Ben shook his head. “I thought so too. It’s all she ever talked about. Being like Bobby. Like you, even. But apparently her stint as a military MP changed her mind. So, now she just feels like she has nothing. Which is kind of how Chuck described what he was feeling. Like he had nothing.”
“Which explains why you are worried. But Meg’s not like that.”
“I didn’t think Chuck was like that either.”
“Meg has you and the boys. Like she said, she doesn’t want you to be a widower. She’d never—”
“Is the pizza ready yet?” Rick bounded into the dining room. His hair was damply plastered to his head, but he was clean and apparently starved.
“Did you put your dirty clothes in the hamper?” Ben got up to check the pizza.
“Yup.” Rick followed him back to the kitchen.
“Go collect your brother and we can eat.”
Rick bolted back down the hallway, calling out Evan’s name.
“And remind him to wash his hands,” Ben called after Rick.
He slid the pizza from the oven, tested it, and dropped the pans on the granite counters.
“She’d never do that to the boys either,” Will said in a quietly confident voice.
Ben wanted to be comforted by his twin’s assurances. But he’d seen the ravaged faces of Mr. and Mrs. Royko and Anne and Donald. Surely Chuck must have considered how they would feel if he was gone. But he’d been too miserable to let that stop him.
“She just wouldn’t.” Will grabbed Ben’s shoulder and squeezed hard.
“That’s what Dad said.” Ben rummaged through the utensil drawer and found the pizza wheel. “After he told me how close he came to ending it all and leaving Mom behind.”
Will’s jaw dropped, and his eyes went round. “You’re kidding. Right?”
Ben shook his head and started running the pizza wheel through the steaming pies.
“Now you’ve got me worried,” Will said, his voice fading away to a whisper as Rick and Evan scampered through the kitchen and into their seats at the dining room table.
“I THINK JENNY was surprised, don’t you?” Meg waited beside the car for Margie to unlock the doors.
Margie dug into her purse for her car keys. “I felt bad at first, that it was so soon after—after Chuck—but then I thought, maybe it was good for everyone to have something to feel good about. Baby showers are always fun. And Jenny was so cute about it.” The locks clicked. Margie reached in back to toss her purse onto the rear seat.
“I expected to see Georgia,” Meg said as she slid into the passenger seat of Margie’s sporty little Ford Focus and buckled her seat belt. “I would have thought she’d come with her Aunt Abby since Abby Frank doesn’t drive.”
“Georgia hasn’t been at work since it happened. She’s not handling it very well.” Margie put the car in gear and headed toward the road.
“I thought they broke up. Months ago.”
“Chuck broke it off. Georgia’s still in love with him. Was still in love with him.”
“I never did learn why Chuck broke it off. Ben never said. When I left, I kind of expected her to be wearing a wedding ring by the time I got back. They’d been engaged forever.”
Margie shook her head. “Maybe Ben didn’t know. Georgia didn’t even tell me much, and you know how tight men are about talking things out. It happened right after Chuck got out of rehab. He was having a hard time with headaches and nightmares. Instead of coming home to Georgia’s apartment, he went home to his folks’ house and set up camp in the room over their garage.”
Meg didn’t have to work hard to imagine what it must have been like for Chuck. Still seriously handicapped by his wounds, maybe even wishing he hadn’t survived. And if the nightmares and flashbacks were bad enough, he might have been worried that he would do something to hurt Georgia by mistake.
“Georgia went over there as soon as he got back, but he told her he didn’t want to see her anymore. Just like that.” Margie sounded as if she was still put out with the man in spite of what had happened since. “When he first got brought home from Germany, she took a leave from work and spent about every waking minute up at the hospital in Maryland where he was being treated. She thought he’d be coming home to her apartment. She was devastated when he told her it was over. It’s going to take her a long time to get over him.”
Meg stared out the side window, watching the houses go by as Margie talked. A lot of engagements didn’t survive the separation of deployments or the realities of serious injuries. A lot of marriages didn’t. But Chuck and Georgia had been together a long time. It wouldn’t have mattered how disfigured or impaired Chuck had been; Georgia would have stuck by him.
“I hope you’re not giving that sweet man of yours a lot of grief.”
Margie’s question caught Meg like a slap on the back of the head from a spiteful drill sergeant.
“You aren’t, are you?” Margie prompted.
Meg fidgeted with the purse in her lap.
“Are you?” Margie’s inquiry was more pointed this time.
“Maybe,” Meg answered reluctantly. Was she giving Ben grief? Did not telling him everything give him grief? She’d meant to protect him. But now that she thought about it, Chuck might well have broken off the engagement to protect Georgia, and in doing so he’d hurt her far worse than having stuck by him through rehab, temper tantrums, nightmares, and sulks had.
“What exactly does maybe mean?”
Margie pulled into the parking lot in front of Ethan’s Ribs. This late at night the dining room was closed and most of the building dark. Just a couple cars, probably Ethan or one of his crew still cleaning up before heading home.
“Well, I didn’t tell him our marriage is over, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“But things aren’t good between you?” Margie turned the engine off, and the car went silent.
“They’re good. Okay, anyway.”
“And you’re still sleeping together?”
Meg nodded. Sex was the one thing they hadn’t had a problem with. In fact, the sex was great. It was just everything else.
“So, if it’s not sex, then what is it that’s just okay?” Margie was persistent, and she read between the lines. They’d known each other far too long. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Remy McAllister, does it?”
Meg shook her head. “No. I think I’ve made my peace with him. Or at least, I’ve forgiven him and moved on. And he’s been good for my mom. She’s been sober for almost a month. She goes to AA twice a week. And I think she really loves him.”
“Glad to hear it. I saw her a couple weeks ago. She had lunch with a lady I didn’t recognize. But I didn’t wait on them, so I didn’t realize how much had changed.”
“It was probably her AA sponsor. I forget her name, but I’ve met her. She’s nice. Amy something, I think.”
“So, it’s not Remy,” Margie said, getting back to her subject, “and it’s not your mother’s drinking. And it’s not sex. What is wrong?”
The lights went out in Ethan’s. Two dark figures made their way from the rear of the building to the two cars parked in the far corner of the lot. Meg watched the headlights come on and wondered if Ethan, or his partner Michael, would come over to check out the car loitering in their lot. No one did. Both cars pulled out and headed in the opposite direction. Meg turned back to Margie, still waiting doggedly for Meg to answer.
“It’s hard to explain.”
“Try me.”
“I’m not the same person who left here a year ago.”
“Is anyone ever the same after they’ve been in
a place like that?”
“Ben thought so.”
“I don’t think that’s true. Ben’s far too intelligent to think that kind of experience would leave you untouched. I think it’s more like he was just relieved to have you back and didn’t stop to wonder how those changes might get in the way of your relationship. Of the relationship you had before you left, anyway. He loves you, Meg. You know that. And he always will.”
“Ben’s not the one who’s got the issues. It’s me. I don’t want the same things I wanted before. I don’t think the same as I did before. I don’t even know if I feel the same.”
Margie opened her mouth to say something and then shut it. The dead quiet of the night hung between them. “You still love him, don’t you?”
“I do.” Meg blinked hard to stop the tears that wanted to burst forth.
“Then it’s just a communication problem. You just need to sit the man down and explain what’s going on in your head. And your heart. And then you need to listen to what he’s feeling and thinking.”
A hiccoughing chuckle burbled its way up Meg’s windpipe. “You’d make a good shrink.”
“Yeah, well. Waitresses and bartenders get a lot of on-the-job training.” She restarted her engine, and the headlights flicked on again. “Maybe what you guys need is a weekend away. Just the two of you.”
“Maybe.”
Maybe what Meg needed was to just lay it all out there. Her wavering emotions about Ben’s service dog project. Her suspicion that she might have gotten pregnant the night of Chuck’s death. Her shame over what had happened with John. Her growing reliance on and love for Kip. Everything.
She didn’t doubt for a minute that Ben loved her and would hear her out. He’d still love her even if he knew it all. He’d be hurt, but what if she’d hurt him more by not telling him everything? People were always more afraid of the things they didn’t know than those they did. Ben knew things weren’t right, and he wanted to help.
Too many times Ben had asked her what’s wrong? And too many times, she’d said nothing. Dr. Allan and Margie were right.
Ben deserved her trust.
Chapter 24
MEG CHECKED THE little cooler packed with chicken sandwiches, grapes, cookies, and chips. She added a bottle of wine, two plastic glasses, and a handful of napkins. She set the cooler by the door and sank down onto one of the stools to wait for Ben to come in from the kennels.
Kip whined and nudged her hand. She patted his head. Then she slid off the stool and knelt in front of him. He licked her chin and whined again.
“Thanks for the encouragement, Kip.” She buried her face in his fur. Why had it taken her so long to understand and accept the comfort this dog offered with such unstinting love? Why had she been so bullheadedly blind to the possibilities of the program Ben wanted to start? “Time for me to swallow my pride and admit I might have been wrong. Right, Kip?”
Kip nuzzled her cheek but said nothing.
The sound of Ben’s boots coming up the porch steps made the dog jump to his feet. Meg stood as well and waited.
Ben opened the door and stepped in. He hung the leash he was carrying on the hooks beside the door. He began to unlace his boots, then stopped and looked up at Meg. He glanced around the kitchen, then back at her with a frown on his face. “What’s up?”
“I packed us a lunch to take to the beach.” Meg tried to stay calm in spite of the thudding of her heart.
“Beautiful evening for it.” Ben bent and began retying his boot.
“Don’t you want to change? Maybe put on a pair of flip-flops?”
“A shower wouldn’t hurt either. Do I have time? Where are the boys?”
“Rick is at his friend Sam’s, and Evan went to my brother’s house for the night. It’s just us.”
A slow smile spread across Ben’s face. “Sweet. I’ll hurry.”
Meg waited, anxiously reciting the things she needed to tell Ben. She’d considered the weekend away that Margie had suggested, but that would have taken too much planning and too much time. Now that she’d decided to spill her guts, she wanted to get it done before she lost her nerve and went back to avoiding the difficult subjects. It was Friday. The boys were gone for the whole night. They had as long as it took. And if there were going to be any fireworks, they had plenty of privacy for it.
Ben returned to the kitchen sooner than Meg expected. His hair was still wet, and he wore his favorite cargo shorts and a frayed and faded Tar heels T-shirt.
“Any specific beach?” he asked as he grabbed his own jacket and hers off the hooks.
Meg shrugged, then, “Our special beach?”
“Like that, is it?” Ben grinned and opened the door. He grabbed the cooler and stepped out onto the porch.
Kip watched them intently, his gaze bouncing from Meg to Ben and back.
Ben glanced at the dog, then at Meg. “Should we take him or leave him?”
“Take him.” Meg could use all the encouragement she could get. This shouldn’t be so hard. Ben was Ben. He loved her, and he wanted to help. He wanted to understand. But in spite of the fact that she had been sharing her problems with him since she was sixteen years old, and in spite of the fact that he’d always been there for her, she still felt breathless and a little afraid.
She felt like she guessed it might feel on a first date with someone you really wanted to impress. Except her first date, if you didn’t count her senior prom, had been with Ben. And by the time he’d taken her out on a real date, they’d known each other for more than four years. So she didn’t really know what a first date felt like.
She just felt breathless and worried and eager all at the same time.
They didn’t talk as Ben drove his truck toward the beach. He turned the radio on and found a song they both liked then just paid attention to the road with his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel.
The memory of a long-ago night, the first time Ben had brought her to this beach, came to her. She’d been just as nervous, but for a totally different reason. That night it had been Clay Aiken singing “This is the Night” on the radio in Ben’s refurbished Mustang, and how appropriate had that been. Tuning out the words currently playing on Ben’s truck radio, Meg let the lyrics to Aiken’s song drift through her head. Don’t wait. The moment can vanish so fast. She had already waited far too many moments. This was the night to bare her soul and let Ben in.
Her heart raced a little as her anxiety built.
Ben pulled into the tiny lot behind the dunes. In spite of the nice night, theirs was the only vehicle in sight. Ben slid from the truck and walked around to the back of the truck. Meg hung back for a moment. Then she drew in a big breath and let out a long sigh, grabbed the blanket, and got out. Showtime! Oorah!
TWO PATHS LED off between the dunes. To the left, the sun was just setting, leaving a bright orange and pink sky as a backdrop. To the right, a half-moon had already risen against the pale gray-blue of the eastern sky.
Ben opened the rear gate and signaled for Kip to jump down. Then he grabbed the cooler and hurried to catch up to Meg who was headed toward the path to the ocean beach. Briefly, she let her hand touch the top of the anchor that guarded the path before striding on.
Ben tapped the top of the anchor, too, in case it was a good luck thing. His first thought when she’d suggested this picnic and he’d found out the boys were elsewhere, was that this was a date. They’d had so few opportunities as a couple lately, he’d been touched. And a little excited. But she’d been totally mute the entire drive out here, and worry had replaced anticipation.
The more he thought about it, the more he became convinced that there was something much more sinister about this tête-à-tête. As he followed her through the dunes, his gut began to clench with apprehension. His chest felt tight, and he had to suck in a deep breath to
banish the uncomfortable feeling.
The path broadened and then ended, and the soft expanse of pale gray sand spread in all directions. Dusk created long shadows behind every small hillock of sand and painted the hard damp sand at the water’s edge with a shimmer of orange. Waves broke and ran up the beach in the endless rote that Ben usually found relaxing. But tonight he was anything but relaxed.
Meg spread their blanket well above the incoming tide and began unpacking their picnic dinner.
“We should have brought the camp light,” Ben said as he dropped to his knees at the edge of the blanket. “It’ll be too dark to see what we’re eating before we’re done.”
“I thought of that, but I decided I liked candles better.” Meg reached back into the cooler and brought out four short, fat candles. She pressed them into the sand along the top edge of the blanket, then reached back into the cooler and produced a lighter.
Nothing could have been more romantic. Ben wished he could surrender to the serenity of their surroundings and banish the anxiety churning in his gut. But Meg was far too solemn. Even when she was intent on creating romance, she usually had a teasing grin on her face. Tonight was leading to something far more portentous.
Kip nosed along the edge of the dunes checking out all the interesting scents. Meg took a bite of her sandwich and set it back onto the wrapper it had come from. As hungry as he’d been half an hour ago, Ben didn’t feel like eating now, but he forced himself to pop a few grapes into his mouth.
“We should come here more often like this.” Ben grabbed a few potato chips. “Just the two of us.”
“Mmmm,” Meg murmured, gazing off toward the ever-darkening horizon above the sea.
“Is something wrong, Meg?” Might as well get it out in the open if he could.
“Not wrong, exactly.” Meg glanced at Ben, then back toward the ocean.
