by Jessie Olson
Her eyes caught the white roses under the mirror. They were always fresh roses – except the two weeks he went to Chicago and Lizzie let them die. Were they Maria’s favorite? She couldn’t imagine any other reason he would have white roses on a Victorian table. She never saw him buy or replace them. It was some sort of ritual. Lizzie resisted the urge to go back to the computer, but not to return to the buffet. She opened the drawer with the silk napkins and found the photograph.
Lizzie forgot how sad she looked. She knew about Oliver and Eloise. Did she know about Lily? Would someone as Catholic as Ben said Maria was believe in something like Lily coming back to find Oliver? Lizzie paused as that floated in her head, feeling as though Maria’s gloomy eyes were staring back and judging her. For being with the man she didn’t have the courage to leave… and yet she left him in the most wretched way anyone could leave. She killed herself when he couldn’t die. Ben said he took her blood only once and that she hated it. Why? Lizzie was Catholic once… she knew the hatred for bodily pleasure that dogma encouraged. And yet… nothing thrilled her more than the thought of her blood making Ben’s heart beat rapidly.
There was no clinic when Maria was alive. Where did Ben go? Was she jealous of the sources? Did she think there was some other exchange beyond blood? How did she feel when Ben came home and put his warm body beside her, with the blood of another woman coursing through his veins? Was Maria really the only woman in two hundred years?
Lizzie put the photograph back in its place. She remembered him telling her he kept his books because they meant something to someone he liked to remember. Was that Maria? If she was so timid and superstitious would she read Keats and Byron and Henry Fielding? Lizzie went back to the office and pulled each volume off the shelf one by one. She flipped through the pages and looked at each title page searching for a clue. Any clue. Something to show to whom the books belonged before he decided to preserve them.
She opened a copy of Shelley’s poems and took in the breath of old paper and the leather binding. She felt her head swim and looked up to stop the dizziness from pouring over books. She saw Ben standing in the doorway.
“Hi,” he smiled.
“Hi,” Lizzie blindly replaced the book on the shelf.
“Already finished with Tom Jones?”
“I have ADD today.”
“So do I,” he revealed the burn was still in his eyes.
“Ben,” she started as he came towards her and kissed her passionately. The suddenness of it thrilled the speed of her heartbeat.
He unzipped her sweatshirt and moved his kiss towards her neck. He breathed in and lifted a whisper up to her ear. “Yes?”
“Yes,” she barely breathed as he lifted her off her feet.
*****
Lizzie jerked her head up suddenly. Darkness settled outside the office window. She felt Ben’s heartbeat pounding in a nearly normal rhythm beneath her as her senses gradually moved back into focus. Her throat was dry and the air was cool against her bare back. She carefully moved herself off Ben and stood up to retrieve the sweatshirt from the floor. She rolled her shoulders back and forward to reinvigorate her tingly arm.
There was something… something else in her mind before she opened her eyes. She closed them to try to prompt the dream back in her memory, but all she could remember was a sensation… but maybe that was a few hours ago when she was awake and Ben… he opened his eyes and smiled as if seeing that memory in his own mind. He sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes. “What time is it?”
Lizzie lifted her shoulders helplessly. “I don’t know.”
Ben slowly stood and retrieved a few pieces of clothing as he went to his computer. “It’s 8:30,” he moved back towards her. “It seems later.”
“We both fell asleep,” Lizzie coughed on her dry throat.
“Not for very long,” he smiled at her.
“Long enough for me to dream something.”
“Yeah?” he looked curiously.
“I don’t remember what it was,” she coughed again and went to get a glass of water. When she came back, Ben was back at the computer.
“We got an email from Jack,” he said lightly and then sobered his expression.
“Yeah,” Lizzie nodded, having read hers at work two days ago. “It’s the Melissa Benson BBQ.”
“Do you want to get dinner?” Ben avoided her eyes.
“No,” Lizzie didn’t hide her irritation.
“You need to eat something. Something better than that leftover Chinese food.”
Lizzie set her jaw. “Okay, I’ll order a pizza,” she sat on the sofa. He looked at her for a few lengthy minutes of silence and then went back to the computer. “You’re not going to the concert, are you?”
“I don’t think I should.”
“Why not?” Lizzie looked directly at him.
“Because I would have a difficult time looking at those parents, Elizabeth.”
“Because you know how their daughter died?”
“So, apparently, do you.”
Lizzie felt a burn in her cheeks that trickled down to the new wound at the side of her neck. “Then I feel more profoundly that I should go,” Lizzie looked down at the glass of water in her hands.
“Then you can go for the both of us. Send Jack my regards.”
“And that’s it? You just end the subject?” Lizzie stood up and glared down at him. “You obviously feel guilty about this, Ben. Even though you say you don’t know anything for sure.”
“I feel guilty, Elizabeth, because every day I am thankful that it was Melissa and not you,” he didn’t look at her as he said it.
Lizzie’s hands shook. She summoned the strength to rest her glass on the desk for fear she would drop it. She breathed in a sob and exhaled with tears. Ben looked at her and let go of his anger. He came to her side and pulled her into a strong embrace. “You don’t have to go,” he said softly. “You can tell Jack I made plans for us that can’t be re-scheduled. Blame me.”
Lizzie wrapped her arms tightly around him. “I have to go,” she cried. “I have to…”
“Okay,” Ben smoothed along the top of her hair as she slowed her sobs. “It’s not your fault, Elizabeth.”
Lizzie pulled herself closer to him. His body was so warm. His arms were strong. And safe. She felt as though he could shield her from anything that would harm her physically. But no matter how closely she pressed against him, she couldn’t protect herself from the reality of what he was, what he would always be, and how inescapably her life was now entwined with it.
Chapter Twenty-One
Lizzie smiled as Jack set the beers in front of her and Jen. “Perks of sitting with the band,” he winked as he took his seat on the other side of his wife. Lizzie smiled at the familiar faces around the table. Faces she knew from years of Jack’s gigs. All of them were at her birthday party, but that was a whirlwind. A whirlwind when she could forget about Mike and their indiscretion on the back porch. But there he was with his girlfriend, Amy. How much had changed since that cold January night. And yet Lizzie was back to where she was a year ago… the only one at the table without a partner.
“Are you running that race again this year, Lizzie?” Jen asked.
“No,” Lizzie shook her head, laughing at the fact her habit receded to three miles only three times a week. It was unlikely she could accomplish twice that much, never mind thirteen.
“You still look pretty good,” Jen nodded as Lizzie peeled pork off of her ribs. She laughed to herself, thinking how Ben would probably disapprove of her food choice. He wasn’t there to say anything. Besides, it was another seven weeks before he had any real say in her diet.
“Thanks,” Lizzie dodged a look from Mike and the nasty stare from Amy.
“Lizzie!” a voice called from behind her.
“Sara,” Lizzie almost choked on the ribs she barely swallowed. “I didn’t know you were here.”
Sara picked up the toddler walking in front of her. “Hi,” she greeted t
he table. “Hi Jack. Excellent job, guys.”
Lizzie could tell from Sara’s extra polite tone that she really didn’t like the music at all. Some things hadn’t changed since high school. “We’re playing another set in a half hour,” Jack explained, oblivious to Sara’s real opinion. Lizzie could tell from Jen’s hidden expression that his wife was less clueless. “Is that Josie?”
“Oh no,” Sara laughed. “Josie just started crawling. This is Timmy.”
“He’s so big,” Lizzie smiled, feeling the ache Will had dislodged a week before.
“He’s growing out of his clothes every week, I swear. Thank God I kept all his brothers’ clothes,” Sara shifted Timmy from one hip to the other. Lizzie slid over on her bench to offer Sara a seat and pulled a piece of pasta salad off her plate for Timmy.
“Lizzie, where’s Ben?” Sara startled Lizzie as she offered Timmy a third piece of her pasta.
“He had a work thing,” Lizzie said weakly. It was easier to lie to Jack and the band. Sara was a different story.
“So you guys are still dating?”
“Yeah,” Lizzie found another piece of mayonnaise covered ziti for Timmy’s eager hands.
“Dating?” Jen laughed. “They’re practically living together.”
“Oh,” Sara pursed her lips. Lizzie knew she was wrestling between her high school ego and the Christian impulse to say something about the sanctity of marriage.
“How’s your mom doing?” Lizzie opted to let it go, softened by Timmy’s eager pudgy fingers.
“She’s holding up,” Sara accepted the topic change. “She always brightens when the grandchildren are around.”
“I can see why,” Lizzie smiled at Timmy and then Sara. “Are you visiting for the weekend?”
“Mom told me about the fundraiser. I thought it would be fun for the kids – and it’s a good cause,” Sara smiled at the table, relatively quiet as they ate their barbeque.
“Yeah,” Lizzie felt the weakness tempt her.
“I remember the day she disappeared,” Sara looked blankly in front of her. “It was one of the first days my dad let me drive to school. I was so excited I got to drive, I crammed too many people in that Ford Escort. Even you, Jack.”
“I remember,” he grinned.
“When we drove by the Bensons’ house, there were three police cars. It was odd because that’s probably all the police in this town,” Sara laughed without any hint of humor.
“Yeah,” Jack interjected. “We all stayed at my house to see what was going to happen. But nothing did.”
“We played a lot of Trivial Pursuit that night.”
“I think Lizzie won every single game,” Jack laughed.
Lizzie blinked her eyes, hoping no one saw the tears that started to form in them. “That whole summer…” she returned her gaze to Timmy’s hungry fingers. “We played a lot of Trivial Pursuit.”
“Ben brought pizza,” Sara smiled, no doubt thinking the pizza was just for her. Lizzie thought how she was often the one who ate seconds, filling her blood with unappealing lipids.
“Ha,” Jack laughed. “Lizzie says he’s a health freak now.”
“So is Lizzie,” Jen smiled.
“Except at barbeques when Jack’s band is playing,” Lizzie met her eyes.
Timmy grew restless when his supply of ziti ended. He turned around and patted his mother’s lips with greasy fingers. “I think we’ll go back to Grandma,” Sara dodged a finger between her teeth. She lifted her eyes back to the band with another empty smile. “See you later, Lizzie. Jack.”
“Jack,” an older man echoed as he came over to the table.
“Mr. Benson,” Jack turned around.
“I wanted to thank you again for all your help,” the older man took Jack’s hand then circled the table to the rest of the band.
“You remember my cousin, Elizabeth Watson? She was in my class at Springs,” Jack nodded to Lizzie.
Lizzie stood up and nodded. “Mr. Benson.”
“Thanks for coming to support my girl.”
“I remember Melissa,” Lizzie said flatly. “She was a great … person.”
“She would have been 35 today.”
Lizzie found the strength to make herself smile, even as the meat in her stomach started to curdle. Mr. Benson looked at Lizzie slowly. “You remind me of her a little,” Mr. Benson’s stare started to glisten.
“She was a lovely girl,” Lizzie said blankly.
Mr. Benson breathed in slowly. “Yes. One of your classmates gave us a sizable donation this year. I think that will allow us to award two extra scholarships in June.”
“Ben?” Jen asked.
“Benjamin Cottingham,” Mr. Benson nodded. “They lived over on Scott Road. Big old house, he and his brother. I think one of them used to give Melissa a ride home from softball practice when I couldn’t get there in time. They were good boys.”
Lizzie put her hand against the table to keep her balance. “Lizzie knows Ben pretty well. He’s her boyfriend,” Jen offered. “He still is a good guy.”
“He is a lucky guy,” Mr. Benson nodded. “Thanks for coming.”
Lizzie sat down as he walked away. She saw several eyes at the table look at her. Lizzie forced herself to concentrate on her plate and started to pull the meat off her ribs, even if she didn’t have the stomach to eat any more.
“What a nice man,” Amy commented. “How sad. You can tell he still grieves for his daughter.”
“They never found the body,” Jen sighed. “I can’t imagine that he has had closure.”
“How awful.”
“Did you see how he looked at Lizzie?” Jack asked. “It was like he was seeing a ghost. You do kind of look like her.”
“Kind of,” Lizzie dropped the bones on her plate.
“That’s creepy,” Jen softened her eyes on Lizzie. “Did that ever freak you out?”
“I never really thought about it until recently,” Lizzie looked up at her friends.
“Did they ever find out who did it?” the bass player asked.
“Nope,” Jack shook his head. “No body. No suspect.”
“They must have suspected someone?” the bass player’s wife asked.
“I think they checked out her boyfriend. He was a real asshole,” Jack rolled his eyes. “And then there was some guy who lived on Peabody Ave. that got arrested for molesting his kids. They tried to link him to this… but they couldn’t prove it. Then it just kind of faded out of the public attention.”
“That’s sad. That must be difficult for Mr. Benson, too,” the bass player’s wife added.
“But think of the good he’s done. All those scholarships that help students. He managed to turn his sorrow into opportunity,” Jen offered.
“Good point,” Jack patted his stomach. “Lizzie, you look like you could use that beer I got you.”
“I would if a bunch of people just compared me to a dead girl,” Jen touched her hand. “Are you okay, Lizzie?”
“I’m fine. I’m happy to be here. Alive, with my friends,” Lizzie hoped the extra effort of her nod didn’t give away her struggle. “I’m lucky I am able to complain about being 34 and growing white hairs.”
“Here, here,” Jen grinned back.
*****
Lizzie slid the tablecloth a little more towards her left and began setting the napkins and silverware in front of all the seats… except two corners waiting for Ben’s chairs. She retrieved wine glasses from the bar and went back in the kitchen for trivets to set in the middle of the table.
“It looks lovely,” Nora walked in with a vase full of flowers. “Do you want them in the middle? Or is it too tall for people to see one another?”
“It’s perfect,” Lizzie admired the arrangement Nora set in the middle of the table. “She’ll like the cala lilies.”
“Smells delicious,” Nora breathed in. “I love your lasagna.”
“It was her special request,” Lizzie shrugged as she heard a clamor come up the stair
s. Ben carried two chairs from his dining room, followed by Mark with a case of wine. Ben smiled as he passed Lizzie and directly delivered the chairs to their spots.
“Your black skirt,” he unhooked a small bag and handed it to Lizzie. “Mark, did you get everything from your car?”
“A bag of ice,” Mark finished placing the bottles on the bar. “I’ll go get it.”
“It smells delicious,” Meg passed Mark in the dining room entrance. She put in her second earring and crossed the room to hug Lizzie.
“Happy birthday, Meg.”
“I miss your food,” Meg went to the bar and opened a wine bottle. “Ben, you don’t know how lucky you are.”
Lizzie looked at one of the settings and adjusted a fork that was askew. “I am,” Ben put a hand behind her back as she stood up straight again. She didn’t like the implication of the lie that he had any appreciation of her culinary skill. She knew he was aware she liked to cook, but he would never really know if she was good or not. Or care.
“Before I forget,” Meg paused before pulling the cork from the bottle. “I want to thank you both – Ben and Lizzie – for your birthday gift. That was really… that was so thoughtful.”
Lizzie felt Ben’s hand tense suddenly at her back. She took it as a cue to smile even more broadly. “It’s your birthday.”
“But,” Meg beamed as she poured the first glass. “That book must be so old. Of course you know, Lizzie. I’m not surprised you found it… but that was really generous.”
“What book?” Nora asked.
“A first American edition of Byron’s The Vampyre,” Meg offered a glass of wine to Lizzie.
