by Cheryl Wyatt
“So, tomorrow. What’s the plan?” he asked.
“Hold on, Reece is stirring. I’ll call you back.”
“Okay, bye.”
Speaking of plans, he needed one too. He could drop Hutton off at Joel’s on his way to the gym after his morning run. No, that wouldn’t work. Ben usually got up at four to run his miles, do cardio and pump iron until seven every day, nearly without fail. The rigors of his job demanded it. He also supplemented the workouts with sports activity and strenuous training events with his team.
Hutton usually didn’t wake up until eight. This was gonna be a problem. Unless Hutton could stay asleep while Ben ran. He might have to switch workouts to the evening until Hutton and he could work out a schedule. And until Hutton wasn’t going to wake up fearful at being alone in a new place. His phone rang.
“Hey. Sorry about that. Reece needed a drink. Anyway, about a plan. Would you care to leave early before carting me to the doctor’s so I can buy bus tickets? I’ll also need to run by Eagle’s Nest to get things from my car and let the mechanic know I’ll return for it later.”
“Sounds great.” He’d just have to figure out what to do with Hutton. Things would be much easier if Amelia knew about him. But that couldn’t happen until he got better at handling Hutton. He didn’t want pretty Amelia to see his total ineptness in dealing with a person with disabilities. Especially humiliating was that this person was his own flesh and blood.
Who he should probably go check on, since no sounds had come out of Hutton’s room in several minutes. “Listen, I gotta run, but I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll bring milk over in the morning unless you need some tonight.”
“Tomorrow’s fine. ’Night, Ben.”
Ben hung up missing her voice. He knocked on Hutton’s door. No answer. He started to walk away when muffled sobs sounded from within. Blasted with compassion for his brother, Ben grabbed the door handle then paused. Hutton, though like a child, was in fact an adult and deserved to be treated like one.
Ben knocked again. “Hutton? Hey, buddy, you okay?”
Sniveling sounded. “Yeah, Benny. I okay. Everything okay.”
But the raw, desperate element to Hutton’s voice said otherwise. Ben knocked again. “Mind if I come in?”
“No, Benny. I don’t want you to come in.”
“I wanna be sure you’re okay.” Please talk to me, buddy. Please. Let me into your world.
“I be okay, Benny.”
“You know, Hutton, I have rough days sometimes, too.”
“You do?”
“Yup. And sometimes I wish I had someone to talk to.”
“Oh. I didn’t know. Am I making you have a bad day, Benny?” The distress in Hutton’s voice escalated. Ben couldn’t take it. He pushed open the door and rushed to his brother’s side.
Hutton sat in the middle of the bed, with covers bunched up around him all the way to his close-set eyes and low-set ears.
Ben halted.
Hutton also had every single item in the entire room stacked mile-high in the bed with him. Clothes. Stuffed animals. Phone. Lamp. Alarm clock. Mirror. Wall pictures. Everything, piled around him. Looked like a volcano shaped lump with Hutton’s tears the eruption. The sight could have been comical had Hutton not looked so surprised at Ben barging in.
Approaching the bed, Ben cleared a place and sat in the spot. “Hey, buddy. What’s going on?”
Hutton nudged the comforter down slightly. Far enough Ben could see his eyes blinking as fast as automatic gunfire and his mouth chewing like Psych, his teammate’s cat, devouring his beloved tuna.
“I don’t want to tell you.”
“Anything I can do to make it better?”
Rocking, Hutton darted his gaze all over the room. “Yeah, Benny. Yeah. You can. I—I’m scared of what’s under the bed.”
Okay, so sometimes he needed to treat Hutton like a child. Ben remembered now how Hutton had always been afraid of monsters in the closet and under the bed. But Ben wished he could remember what his mom and dad used to do about it. “What will help you not to be afraid?”
“To put the bed all the way down. That’s what would help.”
“Be happy to. Can you hop up? That way I can get the mattress off.” Hutton scrambled from the bed, dragging half the contents with him. Not until Hutton evacuated the bed did Ben realize the closet contents covered the bed, too.
Ben glanced at the closet. Completely empty. Even the hangers littered the bed. No idea why Hutton nested stuff beneath and around himself like that. Some protective or defense mechanism, no doubt.
“I sorry about the room a mess, Benny. I clean it for you.”
“Don’t sweat it, buddy. I’m not worried about the room, okay?” Bed cleared, Ben pulled off the mattress and leaned it against the wall. Then he retrieved a screwdriver from the tool kit Hutton had gotten from the closet. “I just feel bad I didn’t know you were scared. Next time, I hope you’ll tell me so I can help you not be scared anymore.”
“Okay, Benny. I just don’t want to be a bother.”
“You’re not. I enjoy you being here.”
Even if the entire room, including curtains and the rod holding them, and every single item in the closet, including the light cover got stacked in the middle of the bed. Ben wanted to laugh. But didn’t dare, for fear of hurting Hutton’s feelings.
He wondered if Hutton had ever pulled this stacking, nesting and hoarding of items at home. If so, his mom owed him big time for neglecting to warn him.
“Okay, all set.” Ben took the bed frame apart and moved it into the living room. Partly so the mattress could sit flat on the floor, and partly so Hutton wouldn’t still be able to fear something lurking under it. But mostly to tell his brother without words that he’d go to any length to make him feel welcome and comfortable, and the transition easier.
“Tanks, Benny. Tanks.” Hutton blinked furiously while Ben remade the bed. “I help you.” He plopped down and did. And Ben let him, though it took twice as long.
“You want the safe things put back in your bed?”
Usually a man obsessed with extreme order and discipline who hated clutter, Ben felt waves of grace against compulsion to clean the disorderly room and set everything in its place. Hutton’s feelings were more important than Ben’s neat-freak standards.
“Yes, Benny. But I have to be able to see everything. Sometimes things move if they’re not together. If I can’t watch it all at once, they spread out.”
Huh? “Okay.” No clue what that meant. But okay.
Ben piled soft items on one corner of the mattress. Then clumped items Hutton could get poked with, cut on, or otherwise strangled in, such as the lamp cord should he tangle up in it during sleep, over in the corner of the room in plain sight.
“There ya go. Let me know if you need anything else. Make yourself at home, okay? If you get frightened again, come get me or holler. It won’t disturb or bug me. Okay?”
Hutton blinked. “Okay, Benny. Thanks for being nice to me.”
That statement shouldn’t have hurt, but it did. And for the life of Ben, he didn’t completely know why. But pain seared his chest at the thought of how many times he wasn’t nice to Hutton. And how him being nice to his brother, in Hutton’s eyes, should be the expected, rather than the unexpected.
Growing up, he’d messed up. Plain and simple.
Heal the damage.
No matter how long or what it took, Ben determined Hutton would one day come to see that Ben being nice was the rule rather than the exception.
Which meant if he wanted into Hutton’s world, then Ben needed to do more to let Hutton into his.
Which meant revealing Reece and Amelia, and their deepening feelings despite the fact that they’d known each other only a short time.
Ben flicked on the Garfield night-light he’d gotten Hutton and pulled the door to where he thought Hutton liked it.
“Night buddy. I love you.” And I hope I can get better at showing you how
much.
Feeling another song coming on, Ben grabbed his guitar and headed for his place on the porch. “Tune in,” as Joel termed connecting with God.
Perched on the rail, Ben pulled the acoustic in his lap. Eyes open, he bowed his heart but lifted his face to where glimmering stars filled Refuge’s Air Force-blue sky. Strums poured from his fingers along familiar paths over the strings. Words streamed out, exclusive worship to the God he knew could right every wrong thing. Even if the thing was Ben’s own heart, and the fear lying within.
“No matter how many times I fail, You never see me as a failure. No matter how many times I fall, You won’t give up on me at all. In mercy You hold me to the standards You decree, lovingly mold me from what I am into who I’m meant to be…”
Just as Amelia drifted off, emollient music lifted her mood and her head from the pillow.
For the second time tonight, she found herself mentally investigating. The first time was hours ago in the living room, when Ben’s car pulled back in. She’d watched for him. Waited. Hoping to talk after Reece fell asleep. She’d felt like a spy when his car returned with two heads instead of one. And now, she couldn’t stop wondering who the other person was.
Still hearing the calming music coming from outside, Amelia rolled over, inched forward on her knees and leaned over the antique headboard. Parting the curtains, she strained to see past shadows diffused over the yard by moonlight.
Was it the radio? A person? Sounded like it drifted from the back of the Victorian. Some units had balconies that faced hiking trails flanking the sides and back of the building.
The music wasn’t loud. In fact, she almost thought she had imagined it until she strained her ears and heard an ethereal melody wafting from another unit. An acoustic guitar. Agile strumming.
Not disturbing. Dulcet. Soothing. She snuggled back beneath the sound and her covers, resting in whatever was making her feel at peace for the first time in a long time. Delicate. Just like a lullaby. Soothing…
“Mommy, it’s morning time. Wake up, sleepy head.”
Bright light assaulted Amelia’s eyes when she opened them. The sight and sound of Reece jolted her to a sitting position. She never overslept. Never. Nor did she not rise before Reece. The thought of her roaming around unwatched made Amelia’s heart pound. Acid rushed up her throat. How long—? She eyed the clock. Only six. Her pulse slowed.
“Hey. When did you wake up?” She hugged Reece.
“Just now. Bearby and me are hungry and thirsty. But we have a tummy ache.”
Oh, no. No. No. No. Not the flu.
“I hope you’re not getting what Mommy had. Here, lay down in my bed. I’ll bring Sprite.”
“Is that what helped your tummy?”
“Yup.” That was a Ben term if she’d ever heard one. The guy was beginning to rub off on her.
“Want to try a cracker, too?”
Yawning, Reece nodded. Sometimes Reece complained of ailments when she wanted an excuse to crawl into Amelia’s bed. Hopefully that was the case here.
The last thing they needed was for Reece to get sick in the middle of all this.
Please, please don’t be getting sick. But even as she wished it, she recognized Reece’s glazed eyes and flushed skin. Did she even have medication on-hand for fevers? Amelia plunged fingers in her hair. What would she do? Instinctively she knew: call Ben. He would help without expecting something in return right? Her heart begged him to be the man of honor who would.
Chapter Ten
“What’s the bowl for?” Ben asked when she got in the car, after they’d checked her out of the B and B.
“She woke with a tummy ache. Though I think she just wanted a reason to sleep with me since she woke up in a strange place, I didn’t want to take any chances with your car upholstery.”
Ben grinned. He started to tell her he’d ended up with someone in his bed last night, too.
Hutton had emerged sometime between two and three in the morning, asking to make a pallet on Ben’s floor. Then, fear of what lurked beneath the bed had Hutton sleeping on Ben’s bed. Otherwise he would have taken a second bed apart. Maybe he should anyway, just in case Hutton coming to his room became a habit.
The words lodged in his throat. He wanted to tell Amelia about Hutton.
He couldn’t.
Not yet. Given time, he would, though. Because he couldn’t very well keep someone that important from his brother nor keep someone as important as his brother from her.
Ben hoped Hutton would do okay staying at Joel’s today and tonight. He had had to get Hutton up two hours early in order to get his workout in. And Hutton hadn’t slept well to begin with. Getting Hutton up and out of the bed this morning was like trying to single-handedly budge a B-52 off a runway.
Ben had cut his workout in half for the sake of eating pancakes with Hutton at the Bed and Breakfast. He admittedly went early with the sole intent of avoiding Amelia should she walk in. He’d even walked past her unit to recon the sleep situation, be sure the lights were still off and no sign existed of anyone stirring. Guilt tossed a grenade at him.
Help me push past this. No matter how uncomfortable or unpleasant for me. Hutton deserves to be known.
Ben knew he meant it. That didn’t mean telling her was gonna be easy. But when did he ever take the easy road?
Apparently, right now.
When they pulled into Refuge’s bus station, Reece was asleep, the lopsided tiara still affixed in her hair. She’d worn the thing nonstop.
“Kind of early for her nap, isn’t it?” Ben placed a hand along her forehead, then met Amelia’s gaze. “She’s feverish. Got any kids’ fever reducer?”
“Yeah. I’ll get a cool cloth, too.” On her way inside to the water fountain to moisten a washcloth she kept in her purse, she thought it sweet that Ben had grown accustomed to Reece’s rhythms and schedule. Don’t read too much into it.
Returning outside, Amelia brushed damp hair from Reece’s eyes. Her cheeks looked flushed. Amelia dug in her bag and found the medicine while Ben set aside the tiara and woke Reece.
“Hey, princess. Can you take some medicine for me?” Ben put the pink tablet on her tongue. “Go ahead and chew that up.”
“Mmmm. Smells like bubble gum,” she mumbled, eyes glassy.
Nothing scared Amelia more than Reece getting sick. Amelia suddenly wished her mom were there. What if Reece got deathly ill? Would she know what to do? Her heart lurched at the thought.
Reece’s hands fumbled for her head. “My crown!”
“Right here.” Ben handed it over.
Reece clutched it close. “If I take it off I might not be a princess anymore and if I’m not a princess then I might not get a daddy because princesses always have daddies.” Her eyes slid open and looked right at him. “Mr. Ben, I wish you were my daddy. You’re nice and you remind me of a king and we could call our land Kindness Kingdom.”
Widening, Amelia’s eyes swerved to Ben. “I’m sorry. She’s talking out of her head. Delirious.”
“It’s okay. Fevers do that some—”
Reece bolted up. “Mommy, I don’t feel so good. I need the bathroom quick.”
After sprinting inside the bus depot past wide-eyed patrons—Reece barely making it in time—Amelia, fighting tears, sat on a bench and clung to her listless daughter.
Kneeling, Ben rested his warm hand on her shoulder. “Don’t get worked up. We’ll handle this, okay?”
“I took her for a flu shot.”
“They don’t cover every type.”
She nodded. They returned inside to the ticket line. Near the counter, Reece’s head lifted. “I gotta go again.”
“I better take her before she has an accident.” Amelia stepped out of line.
Afterward, Amelia returned to the back of the line. With Reece’s next tummy pain, Ben ran Reece to the bathroom, visible from the line.
He waited by the door, listening for Reece since Amelia was next up at the counter. “I need to
purchase two tickets to St. Louis for departure after two today.”
“Next Saint Loo bus leaves at ten p.m. All others are filled to capacity.”
“Can I be put on a waiting list in case someone doesn’t show for an earlier bus?”
“They’s already a waiting list a mile long. That your daughter?”
Amelia turned. Ben held Reece in the middle of the room, her head rested against his shoulder.
“Yes.” The way the woman eyed Reece incinerated Amelia’s hope of getting on the bus.
“Mo-ommeeee!” A horrible wretch and splat sound cut off her cry. Ben never flinched except to move toward the door since the bathroom was now occupied.
Amelia ran with the bowl. Too late. “I’m sorry,” she said to the wide-eyed ticket clerk. “Do you have paper towels?”
The bugged-out clerk tossed her a roll. “Don’t ’spect me to come over there ’n help, or you’ll be cleaning up after two.” She shoved her shirt over her mouth as Ben rushed Reece outside.
Amelia dashed after them but called, “Be right back to pay for two tickets.”
“For you and the child?”
Amelia paused at the door when Ben waved her back. Obviously he had things under control. Kneeling to mop up the mess, Amelia nodded to the clerk with a sense of impending doom.
“Nuh-uh. We can’t let a child that ill on a bus with all those other people. No way, no how,” she said through her shirt.
Amelia knew it was futile to argue. Senseless, too. Being a mom herself, barring an emergency, she’d be ticked if another parent brought an infectious child onboard a crowded bus.
The clerk shuddered and picked up the phone. “Bring a mop.”
Amelia felt nauseous herself. Not so much the smell, but the situation. Could things get any worse?
She immediately wished to snatch back her thoughts. Things could always get worse. Unspeakably worse. How could she worry about her job when Reece could end up in the hospital? Kids could die from the flu, right?
Amelia fought paralyzing fear, the way she did every time Reece fell ill. Then Ben’s calming words floated back. Don’t get yourself worked up. We’ll handle this.
