by C. J. Scott
"How did it end?" I asked.
My voice seemed to rally him. He shifted his weight from his left foot to his right, and I got the feeling he was mentally shifting himself. "I was at college nearby. I'd find out Dad's shifts and make sure I got home before he did. But one day the teacher asked me to stay back. I got home late, and Dad..." He pressed his lips together and closed his eyes.
I wanted to go to him, tell him it was okay, but I couldn't move. My legs didn't work.
Ben drew a deep breath and his face became hard, like he was steeling himself. "There was blood everywhere in the kitchen. Mom lay on the floor. She was dead. A gunshot to the head. Dad sat on the sofa in the living room, drinking beer and watching TV. A sitcom was on and he was laughing. I...don't remember too much of what happened next. I was overcome by rage and grief. I killed him," he said, matter-of-fact, like he was simply telling us he went for a walk. "I do know that much."
The silence that followed shrouded us like a blanket. I tried to sift through my thoughts, but it was like wading through mud. I'd half hoped it had all been a mistake, that he was innocent. But he was guilty. He admitted it. It had been justified at least, although not in self-defense.
Beside me, Jane was crying. I could hear her quiet sobs. I wanted to comfort her, but my own heart was breaking.
"I was charged with both their murders," Ben went on in that bland voice he'd adopted. "I was found not guilty of Mom's. They never said that Dad killed her, just that I didn't. I was only convicted for his."
"Your record said second-degree murder," Dad said. "Four years isn't a lot of time to serve for that kind of crime."
"I was supposed to get a minimum of fifteen years, but my lawyer never gave up. He was the father of a friend from college, and I owe him everything. I owe him my life." His voice caught. His knuckles went white as he gripped the rail behind him. I tried to see into his eyes, but with his head lowered, I couldn't. I wasn't sure which was better, the unemotional retelling or this vulnerability.
"He spoke to Dad's colleagues and tried to get them to give evidence against him. He wanted to prove that there'd been years of abuse and that Dad was likely Mom's killer. But none of them would speak badly of Dad. They kept telling us that he was a good cop, that he couldn't have done those things." Ben's mouth twisted into a bitter sneer. "He was an upstanding man, so they said. But my lawyer kept at them, trying to convince them that I didn't deserve to go to prison for a lifetime. For years Dad had told them all that Mom and I were hopeless, that we were unbalanced. Apart from Mom supposedly having affairs, I was meant to have been a gambler and womanizer, treating girlfriends so badly that all of his friends with daughters were sickened by the sight of me. They all believed him."
"How did your lawyer get them to see you differently?" Dad asked. I had to hand it to him.
He was thinking of the right questions to ask when all I could think of was how fucked up Ben's father had been. Dad didn't look angry anymore, or worried, although he wasn't showing any sympathy either. He was just being a cop.
"He got them to speak to people who knew me. I'd had character witnesses in the trial, of course, but it wasn't until my lawyer organized personal meetings that Dad's friends started to see things differently. At first they wouldn't meet anyone, but after a couple of years of continuous pressure, they agreed. Teachers vouched for me, friends too, but it was a couple of girlfriends I'd had in the previous years that finally swayed them. They realized that Dad had lied about me and Mom. They finally started to see that he wasn't the man he'd portrayed for so long. His old captain came to see me in prison and spoke to me for a long time. I told him everything, all the details going back nine or ten years earlier when Dad had changed. He remembered the domestic incident. He admitted seeing some signs that Dad hadn't coped with it, but after a few counseling sessions, he'd seemed okay. The captain started doing his own investigation after that. He spoke to other colleagues and what he found was enough to convince him that I was telling the truth. Separately, the stories of Dad turning up to work with alcohol on his breath, or punching the occasional suspect weren't enough to set alarm bells ringing, but put all together, it painted a different picture. He was instrumental in getting a retrial. I was still found guilty, but with mitigating circumstances. The judge said I'd served long enough and commuted the sentence."
"Four years," I whispered. He'd spent four fucking years in prison. I couldn't begin to think how horrible that must have been for him. I tried to catch his eye, but he wasn't looking at me.
"Does Gran know all of that?" Jane asked.
He nodded.
"Then why didn't you tell us?"
He lifted his head to look at her, then me. His eyes swam with raw emotion. "It's not how I want you to see me. I don't want to be a victim or saint or whatever. I just...I just wanted to be me. I felt I had to tell your grandmother though."
"Because you didn't want to stay here under false pretenses?" she asked.
"Something like that."
"Ben," I began. I shook my head, unable to go on. I was too aware of Dad watching us to say what I wanted to say.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, Kate," Ben said, folding his arms over his chest.
"I...couldn't face the look in your eyes when I told you what I'd done."
"What look?" I got up and took a step toward him. "Ben, I don't think badly of you."
He inclined his head in a short nod, but said nothing. He didn't believe me.
"Don't shut me out. Not now. Not after..." I glanced at Dad.
"Come on, Jane," Dad said. "I want to speak to your grandmother."
I could have kissed him. He wasn't so bad. Well, he wasn't hauling Ben's ass out of town, so that was something.
He stood by my side and put a hand on my shoulder. "I won't ask you to leave Winter," he said to Ben. The unspoken 'but' hung in the air like a guillotine waiting for the signal.
"You don't have to," Ben told him. "I'm going anyway."
They spoke like I wasn't even there. Like I didn't matter. "Ben! Stop it! What are you saying?"
He waited until Dad and Jane left us, then he turned to me. His arms were still crossed, his hands high up under his armpits like he was holding himself together. His eyes swirled like dark oceans, and the muscles in his face were taut, strained. Stricken.
"Don't make this any harder than it already is, Kate. Please."
I shook my head over and over. What the hell? "Ben, you can't go. Not now." I dragged my hands through my hair. This was not happening. "What about...what about me?"
He turned his head away sharply, as if I'd slapped him. "Kate." My name sounded like the heaviest, hardest word to say. "It's because of you that I have to go."
"That makes absolutely no sense."
"I should never have stayed. Should never have come here."
"Why not? Ben, I don't get it. You've been like this ever since arriving, pushing me away. Why? Tell me why so I can fix it." I sounded hysterical, my voice rising. I didn't care.
"You can't fix it, Kate." His eyes were wild, the vulnerability right there for me to see. "I am what I am. I'll always be this way, and you'll always be wondering when it'll happen again. When will Ben Parker snap like he did that day he killed his father?"
Shock ripped through me. I felt like I was finally seeing the real Ben and what made him tick. It frightened me, but not in the way he thought. "That's not what I think at all. You're not like that. It won't happen again."
"You can't know that."
"Does this have to do with my father? Are you afraid that he'll always be watching you? Is that what it was about when you made that promise to him on your first day, when you told him you wouldn't hurt me?"
"No. It's not about your dad's fear for you." He pressed his lips together and his cheeks hollowed, like he was biting them on the inside. It took him a moment to compose himself, then he said, "It's about my fear for you."
I got it now. I got why he'd rejected me after m
aking love to me the first time. I got it, but I didn't like it. "We were all good in the stables after we made love, before I told you about Dad. But now...why are you still pushing me away?"
"I was fooling myself. We're not all good. How can we be, Kate? How can I do this to you? To Jane? You'll all be walking on eggshells when I'm around, wondering when my temper will blow. I can't live like that. I can't let you live like that. I should have left after that first night we were together. I shouldn't have let it get this far between us."
He was vulnerable and alone. The worst thing he could do was walk away from people who cared for him. But he wasn't thinking of himself, only us. It was all so messed up and wrong, yet he couldn't see that. "You're not going to snap again, Ben."
"What if you're wrong, Kate? What if—" He shook his head and turned away. He looked out over the garden, his back to me. His body rose and fell with his ragged breathing.
"What if I'm right?" I touched his shoulder gently, but he shook me off. My fingers curled into fists and I lowered them. "You're not bad, Ben."
"How do you know? I killed a man with my bare hands." He spread his hands in front of him. The fingers were long and strong, but I'd felt their gentleness. They weren't a killer's hands.
"I killed my father. My own flesh and blood. Something came over me that day." He breathed a single, deep breath. "It could happen again," he whispered.
I shook my head, but he wouldn't have seen. "Those circumstances were so far out of the ordinary. You'll never be pushed to such extremes again."
"You can't know that."
"No, but I can know this. If you were bad, you would have hurt someone weaker than you. You didn't. You hurt the man who hurt the weak ones. I don't care what the law thinks, that's bravery."
"Don't. Don't twist it into something it's not." He pressed his thumb and forefinger into his eyes. "I can't risk anything like that happening again. You're too...precious to me."
Tears flowed down my cheeks. I didn't try to stop them or wipe them away. I cried silently because I didn't want him to know. He had enough burdens. I didn't want to add my broken heart to the pile.
He didn't move. He was still leaning on the porch rail, his head bowed. He scraped his hand through his hair as a huge shudder wracked his body. I wanted desperately to touch him, to hold him, but I didn't want to be shaken off again.
"I'll be here when you change your mind," I said, finding my voice. It wobbled and didn't sound like me, but I got the words out before more tears fell, rendering me completely speechless.
"Thanks," was all he said. It wasn't convincing. He either didn't believe I'd wait for him, or he was never coming back.
My heart felt like it had been ripped from my chest. I began to shake uncontrollably. I was losing him.
No. I'd already lost him.
I sat on the wicker chair and pulled my feet up. I hugged my knees and watched Ben's back. He eventually left, quickly walking to the front door, and disappeared inside without once looking my way.
Jane came out some time after that and put her arm around me. Then it was Dad's turn.
"Come on, Katie," he said. "Your Mom'll have some soup ready."
Soup. Comfort food, even though the temperature was in the nineties. I let him take my hand and steer me toward the car. We drove home, and I went straight to Mom's arms in the kitchen. She held me as I cried.
I didn't feel like soup or anything else to eat. I spent the rest of the day lying on my bed, looking up at the ceiling. Sometimes I felt hopeful that Ben would come to his senses and stay.
Other times I fell into deep despair at losing him forever. Once he left Winter, I wouldn't be able to find him. He didn't even have a cell phone. He would be utterly gone.
I tried to think of ways to convince him that he should stay, not just for me, but for himself.
My head ached, my heart even more so. Some time during the evening, I must have fallen asleep.
I awoke in the morning fully clothed, a light blanket covering me. Mom must have put it there.
I stayed in bed until mid-morning when she came in to check on me. "You're awake," she said, sitting beside me. She looked worried, and I felt bad that I was the cause of it, and of Dad's worry too. I'd seen how anxious he'd been for me the previous day. Not only about me being alone with a murderer, but for my state of mind now that Ben was leaving. They didn't deserve it.
They didn't deserve me.
I closed my eyes and felt the misery wash over me.
"Sweetheart." Mom's hand gently lifted my hair from my face. "Sweetheart, something's happened."
I sat bolt upright. "Ben?"
"Your father got a call from Mrs. M early this morning."
"What is it? What's happened to him?"
"Your father had to arrest him."
"What?" Of all the things I'd imagined happening, that wasn't one of them. It was almost a relief that nothing worse had happened. "I have to go see him."
"Are you sure that's wise? Let your father handle it."
"No! Mom, I know you think Dad's going to take care of everything, but I need to do something, or I'll go mad. I can't let him take care of me anymore. Or you. I have to help Ben out, or I'll never be able to live with myself."
She gave a small nod, but I don't think she really understood. It didn't matter. I showered and changed and raced outside. The police station wasn't far away, but I drove Dad's car anyway.
He must have walked in or maybe he had the squad car.
The station was a small red brick building built in the Seventies. It was ugly compared to the rest of the town, but functional. Dad and one other cop worked from there. They took care of Winter and the district to the south, stretching several miles. The larger division in Riverside worked the rest of the region.
"Dad," I said, seeing him at his desk. He was alone. Usually I'd ask where Officer Lowe was, but not this time. "What's going on? Mom said Ben has been arrested." I walked right past him, heading out the back to the cells, but he caught my arm.
"How about I explain first and then you go and see him."
He hadn't forbidden me. That was something. I nodded. "Go on."
"Mrs. Merriweather is accusing him of stealing money from her."
"What? But that's ridiculous. She doesn't have any money for starters."
"Apparently she had a small stash in a secret hiding place. She claims he found it and stole it."
"You don't believe her, do you?"
He shrugged. "Why wouldn't I?"
"Because she's lying. She has to be."
"Why do you think that?"
I gave him a withering glare. "Dad, Ben's not a thief. If he was, he could have stolen all sorts of things from her before now."
"Maybe, maybe not. She doesn't have a lot of things just lying around, making it easy for him. And maybe he couldn't find her money before. Or maybe he did, but decided to take it now. He's about to leave. He would need some cash."
I couldn't believe it. "Just because Ben has a record doesn't mean he's guilty of this. Come on, Dad. Everyone loves telling me how good you are, how much the town's glad they've got you and Mom. You're a freaking saint around here, yet you're not going to give Ben a chance? Hardly charitable."
"I'm letting you see him, aren't I?"
Oh. Right. I threw my arms around him and hugged him. Tears stung my eyes. It seemed they were never far away. "Can I go in now?"
He nodded. "Not sure he's going to be happy to see you."
"Why not?"
He sucked on his lower lip in thought. "Well, you see, he's already made up his mind to leave Winter, already said his goodbyes. It's not easy for a man to see someone after he's mentally moved on."
Great. Nice to know Ben had mentally left me behind already. I knew Dad meant to help, but he hadn't. "Can I go see him now?"
"I have to be there."
We walked together down the corridor that led to the cells. There were two, mostly for the drunks who used to sleep the res
t of the night there before going home. That was long ago though, back when Winter had a pulse.
Dad stopped at the first cell and unlocked the door. Ben looked up and blinked at me.
"Kate!" He sat on the bed, his legs drawn up. He lowered them to the floor and stood. He looked like hell. His face was pale, his eyes two sunken, shadowy orbs. His hands shook until he tucked them into his pockets. He glared at Dad. "I thought we agreed you wouldn't tell her."
"I didn't," Dad said. "Her mother did."
I think we all knew that Mom had only told me at Dad's suggestion. She wouldn't have said anything if he'd asked her not to. It was strange that he'd wanted me to know. What was he hoping to achieve? Did he want me to see Ben like a criminal? Did he think that if I saw Ben in a cell it would change my mind?
"Are you all right?" I asked. God, what a lame question. Of course he wasn't all right.
"It's not so bad," he said. "A little boring maybe."
"Sorry we can't entertain you," Dad said wryly.
Ben gave a short laugh. "That's okay. It gave me a chance to think up escape plans. So far I've discarded digging my way out of here since I don't have so much as a spoon. A file hidden in a cake was looking good until Kate turned up with no cake."
I laughed, despite my misery. "I can't believe you can joke at a time like this."
He lifted one shoulder. "I've been working on that routine all morning. It's lucky you didn't bring a cake, or it would have been ruined."
I rolled my eyes. Beside me, Dad chuckled.
Then awkward silence descended. There were so many things I wanted to say to Ben, but with Dad there, I couldn't say any of them.
I sighed, as much from frustration as sorrow. "What does Mrs. M want from this?" I asked them both. "What could she possibly be hoping to achieve?"
"That's not the question you're supposed to ask," Ben said.
"What's the right question?"
"You're supposed to ask if I did it."
"I know you didn't."
My answer rocked him. He swayed backward, and I thought he'd need to sit down on the bed again. He stared at me, his mouth open. "How?" he croaked. "How can you know that?"
