Let There Be Life

by Melissa Storm

  Liz stood.

  Dorian stood, too, ready to follow her into battle.

  “Do you need to be alone?” Lauren asked, biting at her lip.

  “No. It will be easier if you’re there.”

  Dorian’s breath hitched, though he chose not to speak.

  “You can come, too,” Liz told him. “Like it or not, we’re all in this now.”

  “Let’s go to the living room. It will be more comfortable there,” Lauren suggested. “I’ll grab my laptop, too. Scarlett said she’d be forwarding an article for you to read.”

  Liz watched as her friend disappeared into the back of the cabin. How hard would it be to run away now? Could she leave everything behind and start a new life without ever having to find out what was on the other end of Scarlett’s email?

  A strong hand pressed into the small of her back. “It’ll be okay,” Dorian promised.

  And she chose to believe that promise. It was the only way she could pick her feet up and move forward.

  Shane sat in his favorite recliner, his cane propped to the side, ready.

  Lauren returned with her laptop and settled onto the edge of her chair, leaving the love seat for Liz and Dorian.

  He seemed surprised when she sank down beside him not at the far edge of the couch, but so that their hips were touching. She needed the added human connection to ground her when Scarlett shared what she knew.

  “Are you ready?” Dorian asked, his eyes vibrant and full of life, like a meadow in springtime.

  Liz gulped. No, she wanted to scream, but instead she nodded. She needed to do this, needed to know whatever she could learn about the mystery of her life.

  Scarlett picked up on the first ring, and Liz put her on speaker.

  “You’re not going to believe what I found!” Scarlett cried, and Liz couldn’t discern whether she was excited, terrified, or perhaps both. “I sent the article to your email, but first let me explain how I found it…”

  Liz sighed. She didn’t want to know how. She wanted to know what—and more importantly, why. Would those answers be coming, too?

  “We’re all ears,” Dorian said when Liz failed to provide a response.

  Scarlett sounded pleased. “Is that Dorian? I knew you weren’t such a bad guy. Actually, Henry did, but I also—”

  “The article, Scar,” Lauren urged.

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry! So I called the folks at the Register, but they couldn’t pinpoint the exact article that went with that picture without at least knowing a date, or a range of dates. Their archives are out of whack because of the digitization, just like I said they might be. Anyway, they told me they’re about halfway through the process, and the person I spoke with really wanted to help. She offered to run some other searches for me since the archives aren’t public yet.”

  “And?” Liz asked. She knew Scarlett loved the process of learning just as much as the result, but this was torture. She needed to know now, not ten minutes from now. “What did you find?”

  “Well, at first nothing. I searched for missing girl, but that came up with way too many hits. I searched for Ben Benjamin, Charles Warwick—you know, the likely suspects. Nothing. Then I thought I should search for you, right? So I tried Jane Warwick, Janie Warwick, nothing. Then on the off chance, I had them put in Elizabeth Benjamin. Bingo. That did it.”

  “I don’t understand. I thought her real name was Jane Warwick?” Dorian said as the rest of them fell silent. Liz glanced up at him and found his brow furrowed, the gears in his head turning but not gaining momentum.

  Scarlett’s voice took on a more serious tone. She’d shared her research; now it was time to discuss the findings. “Maybe it is, and maybe it isn’t, but one thing’s for sure—you’re definitely not Elizabeth Benjamin.”

  “What?” Liz asked. Her voice felt like thorns pushing against her throat. “Why? Why would you say that?”

  “Look at the article I sent,” Scarlett said matter-of-factly. Her voice cracked on the last syllable.

  Lauren raced over with the computer and placed it on Liz’s lap.

  “I’m opening it now,” Liz said, panic rising within her. She needed to know, but she also didn’t want to. She wanted everything to be as it had been before, as it always was. Once she opened the attachment, there would be no going back.

  She clicked to open it, and the world stopped.

  “What is it?” Shane asked from his chair.

  “It’s my…” Liz choked on the next word. It was too big, too scary to let out into the world.

  Dorian looked over her shoulder at the screen. “It’s her obituary.”

  Liz’s fingers trembled as she maneuvered the trackpad on Lauren’s laptop. The short obituary was accompanied by a picture of a stuffed lamb. She chose to read it aloud, hoping it would help her gain distance from the words:

  “Elizabeth Marie Benjamin was born on Tuesday, March 6, 1990, at 3:46 a.m. at Roper St. Francis. She weighed 6 pounds, 4 ounces and was 20 inches long.

  "Her father was blessed with nearly an hour in her company before she went on to be with the Lord. Her mother passed from complications in childbirth earlier that morning. If anyone would like to donate in Elizabeth’s honor, contributions can be sent to… I can’t do this.” Liz’s whole body shook with a wave of tears. She cried for her mother. She cried for herself. She cried for all the years they’d missed.

  “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.” Dorian pulled her to his chest and, surprisingly, she let him.

  “It didn’t even give my parents’ names. The article didn’t say who they were.”

  “Maybe it was an oversight,” Lauren said.

  “Or intentionally omitted.” Shane’s deep voice had lost its strength. Liz’s whole body had. She wasn’t even supposed to be alive.

  “Was that baby me?” Liz murmured into Dorian’s shirt. “Was my death faked? Or…?” She cried out again. “I don’t even know what questions to ask anymore.”

  “And I’m all out of answers to give,” Dorian said, stroking her hair, tucking it behind her ears. “I’m going to help you find them, though.”

  “I’m calling Ben,” Shane said, struggling to stand with the help of his wife. “It’s time he told you what really happened. Time he told all of us.”

  “But he won’t,” Liz cried. “He wouldn’t when I asked before.”

  “He will now.” Shane’s face contorted in a mix of rage and determination. Liz’s father had been a close friend of his, someone he looked up to. Nobody had seen this coming, and although it shook Liz the hardest, it had knocked them all off center.

  “Are you going to be okay, sweetie?” Lauren asked, stooping down in front of Liz, her blue eyes glowing bright with unshed tears. They were all doing their best to be strong because they knew Liz couldn’t be. She’d fought so hard to get to this point, and for what? More lies, more disappointment. Heartbreak.

  “I don’t know.” Liz sniffed. “I… I just need a moment to be alone.”

  “Of course.” Lauren followed behind as Shane hobbled toward their bedroom.

  Dorian gently lifted Liz’s head from his chest and began to transition into a stand, but she pushed him back down on the couch.

  “Stay,” she pleaded.

  “But you said…”

  “I know, but if you leave, too, I’m afraid I’ll disappear.”

  He hugged her to his chest. “I won’t let that happen.”

  They sat in silence for a long time. Liz focused on the beating of Dorian’s heart beneath her cheek. It was the only thing that felt real.

  “I don’t know who I am.” Her eyes drifted toward a spot in the corner of the room, and her vision took on a blurry haze. “I don’t even know my real name.”

  Dorian picked up her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “I don’t know your real name either, but I know who you are.”

  She forced herself to sit, searched his face for any sign of malice or deceit. But, no, he meant the words he’d said. Which left on
e very big question. “How?”

  “I’ve known you for two weeks, but I knew you that very first day, that very first dance.” A soft smile appeared, then widened.

  She stared at him, waiting for more.

  “You aren’t a name. You aren’t your family. You aren’t even your past.” He moved her hand on her chest, and now she felt the frightened rhythm of her own heartbeat mixing with Dorian’s strong and sure melody.

  “You’re your heart,” he explained, “and you’ve got a great one.”

  “You don’t even know me.” She dropped their hands from her chest and placed hers back on Dorian’s. She’d much rather focus on the steady beat than her own frantic heart.

  “Oh, don’t I?” He chuckled softly, played with her hair some more. “I know that you kept it together at the wedding, even though your stepmother was making you crazy. I know that you’re smart as a whip and refuse to let anyone—especially me—take advantage of you. I know you’re brave and were willing to face Warwick on your own if you had to. I know you are kind and fair, way more than those nasty stepsisters of yours deserved for all they put you through. I know you love with everything you’ve got and that you learned that from your father, from Ben. I know that you’re tough as nails, and when this is all through, I know you’re going to be okay.”

  “How? How could you possibly say all that? I was rude to you. Mean. I didn’t trust you. Even now I don’t trust you fully. I yelled. I screamed. I threatened to call the police.”

  “Yeah, but I deserved it. And you’re right, I should have added your feistiness to that list, but it kind of goes hand in hand with being brave.”

  She stared at their hands locked together in his lap. Together, they made a fist. Their hands formed a tool, a weapon, and became stronger. Maybe letting Dorian help the way he wanted to would strengthen her investigation, too.

  “Why do you want to help me? Why didn’t you just walk away once you got paid?”

  “I already told you that day at Tozier. You’re my perfect girl, Liz, or whoever you are. I don’t care what we find. It’s not going to change a thing about who you are or how I feel about who you are. And for the record, I gave all the money back.”

  Liz sat up straight, her back hurting from the curled position she’d held for at least the past hour. Maybe longer. So many things had shocked her on this journey—finding out Dorian was investigating her, that she wasn’t really Elizabeth Benjamin. She would have thought that nothing could shock her anymore, but to hear that Dorian had not only refused to work with Warwick but had also returned money he desperately needed for work he had already performed came as quite the surprise.

  “You what?” she asked Dorian, clenching her hand harder around his.

  He returned the pressure, but kept his voice soft. “I gave all the money back. Well, the deposit I’d been paid anyway. I was hoping it would get Warwick to drop his revenge scheme and go back home.”

  “And?”

  “He didn’t agree, so I upped the ante.”

  She stared at his face in disbelief.

  “Finally, he agreed once I paid for his flight and his hotel for the last two weeks.” He made this admission with a flash of guilt across his normally proud features.

  “But how? How could you possibly afford to do that?” She looked down at his scuffed shoes, the frayed hems of his pants.

  He caught her gaze and shifted uncomfortably. A frown marred his handsome face. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is he’s gone,” he mumbled. “Well, at least I thought he was until I got here, and Shane told me about him showing up at your work.”

  “Maybe he had just stopped in to say goodbye?” But even as the words left her mouth, she knew they couldn’t be true.

  “Maybe,” Dorian said thoughtfully.

  One thing still didn’t make sense. “But if you thought it was over, why did you drive all this way?”

  “Because I wanted you to know everything I knew, and because I couldn’t bear the thought of you hating me.” He smiled weakly, and she felt his pulse quicken.

  “I don’t hate you. I… Thank you for everything. I’ll pay you back.” She thought of all the time she’d missed from work these past couple weeks. It would take a long time to catch up on her bills and even longer to repay Dorian’s kindness, but somehow, she would find a way.

  “No, don’t do that.” He smiled at her. “I’m happy to help. It takes away some of the guilt in getting involved in the first place.”

  He’d done so much for her. Surely he would accept some kindness in return? “But you didn’t know. You—”

  “Don’t make excuses for me. What’s done is done, that much is true, but I don’t think I’ll ever feel like I’ve fully atoned for my part in all this.”

  She reached for his hand, considered her words carefully. Beside her sat a man who’d found her heart while the rest of her was falling apart, a man she’d thought was the villain when really he had been the hero all along. How could she ever tell him what that meant to her?

  She at least had to try to find the words. “I…”

  A series of knocks at the door sent the words shriveling back up inside her.

  “Coming!” Lauren called, hurried toward the entrance.

  The cool spring air filled the cabin and a moment later, Liz's father stepped inside.

  “Hi, Ben. Thanks for coming,” Lauren said, placing a hand on his shoulder and guiding him into the living room.

  He said nothing in response to Lauren’s greeting, said nothing when he saw Liz—just stared, trembled, began to cry.

  Nobody spoke until Shane and his cane had tapped their way into the room and taken up residence in his favorite chair. “I wasn’t sure you’d show,” he said, appraising the other man with a scowl.

  Ben hung his head and stared at the floorboards as he spoke. “I wasn’t sure, either. I kept telling myself I’d go ten more miles, then I could turn back around. Ten more, and I could run.”

  “But you didn’t.” Dorian’s voice was steady and friendly. He was still trying to help any way he could, even though he’d already done far too much.

  The old man turned toward Dorian. How had Liz not noticed the heavy wrinkles that tugged at his mouth and eyes, or the fierce streaks of gray that snaked through his hair? When had everything about her father changed into something she no longer recognized?

  “No,” her father—or whoever he was—said. “I couldn’t do that to Liz. Even if what I’m about to say makes her hate me… Even though I’m terrified, I couldn’t keep it from her any longer.”

  Liz sucked as much air as she could into her lungs in case there would be no way to fill them once the truth had been released into the air like a poisonous gas. “Who am I? And who are you to me?”

  Her father, too, had trouble breathing. It was as if an invisible pair of hands had clenched him by the throat and decided to squeeze all the air out of him. He struggled for each word, but slowly they came out.

  “Your name… is Jane… B-Bingham. And I—” His breathing grew even more labored as he reached the full throes of a panic attack.

  “I… kidnapped… you.”

  Liz felt torn as she watched her father—her rock—fall apart before her. Every emotion surged through her as she tried to make sense of his big reveal. Tried to determine what she should do next. Should she comfort her kidnapper? Should she yell and rage? Or should she ignore the crime and focus on all the years of love and family he’d given her?

  “I don’t understand,” she said at last, having decided to focus on the facts and sort out the feelings later. “Is Warwick my dad? Is your name really Ben Benjamin? And who was the baby that died?”

  Her father—the man called Ben—began to cry. His shoulders heaved as he struggled between drawing air and letting out his tears. “How did you know about the baby?” he asked, his eyes and face both red.

  “We found the obituary for Elizabeth Marie Benjamin,” Dorian answered.

  �
��Stop crying and talk,” Shane demanded. “She’s been waiting her whole life to find out the truth.”

  “Do you need a paper bag to breathe into or something? A drink, maybe?” Lauren offered.

  “He doesn’t get anything until he talks,” Shane boomed. His temper was infamous within the sledding community, but Liz had never seen it up close. And she still didn’t know whose side she was on in this confrontation between him and Ben.

  Dorian squeezed her knee, reminding her that at least somebody was on her side. “Take some deep breaths,” he told the panicked man before them. “Count to ten, then answer Liz’s questions.”

  It felt weird, hearing her name and knowing it wasn’t hers. Could she ever think of herself as Janie? Probably not. But now she wasn’t Liz anymore, either.

  Ben finished counting under his breath, then shifted back into his story. His words were still shaky, but they came more readily now. “His name isn’t Warwick. It’s Charles Bingham, and, yes, he’s your birth father.”

  He paused, but Liz didn’t know what questions to ask.

  “Keep going,” Dorian prompted.

  Ben filled his lungs, let the air out slowly. “My name really is Ben Benjamin, and that baby, Elizabeth, she was my daughter.” He cried out again as the shadow of this painful memory overtook him.

  “We can’t keep stopping and starting like this,” Shane said, though now his voice held a small measure of kindness. “When you begin talking again, keep going until it’s all out.”

  Ben nodded meekly and looked toward Liz.

  “Why?” she asked. She didn’t need to say anymore. She only wanted to understand so she could decide whether Ben had saved her life or destroyed it.

  “Your mother,” Ben started up again. For the briefest of moments, a far-off smile flashed across his face as he remembered the woman he’d loved. “She was married to Bingham when we fell in love. She always said she’d leave him for me, but she was so afraid. He was a man with a vicious temper. He’d hit her, push her, choke her.”

  Ben gained strength in his fury. He kept going without either a harsh word from Shane or a kind one from Dorian. “She was going to leave him,” he insisted. “She was. But then she got pregnant with our child, with Elizabeth. Well, he found out, and she told him it was his. She was too afraid to tell him the truth or to leave under those circumstances, so she stayed. She said it was just until the baby was born, then we’d run away, start all over again, be the family we were always meant to be.