What Comes After Dessert

by Ren Benton

  He picked his way over fallen branches, skirted thickets, ducked low-hanging limbs, and eventually came to the big dead tree that stood out like a ghost in the darkness. “Remember this?”

  Of course she remembered where she’d gotten her first tongue kiss. The two sets of initials carved into the trunk were dark and crisp as ink. The top pair were Ben’s. “I always wondered who CC was.”

  He craned his neck around and to give her the full effect of his incredulous brows. “Crystal Castle.”

  She stared at the letters as if she’d never seen them before. “You have never once called me Crystal.”

  “I call you a lot of things. Not using your full name doesn’t mean I don’t know it, Crystal Angela Castle. This is an official treegal document. Formality was necessary.”

  “What else do you call me, or don’t I want to know?”

  He shifted as if something other than the mosquito bites had made him itchy. “The Fortress. Look, it’s just because—”

  “Don’t ruin it with an explanation.” She’d expected much worse. “I like it. Sounds formidable.”

  “Strong. Well defended.”

  And less prissy than the obvious surname-related architectural reference and its accompanying princess fetish. “At least you’re not having perverted thoughts about my cold stone walls.”

  “Never. Your portcullis, on the other hand...”

  “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” She rested her chin on his shoulder. “I had this vivid picture of you making out with her right here and carving your initials together in a grand gesture.”

  “I did. Just not in that order.”

  He carved her initials beneath his and then brought her here to show her. “In my vision, she was petite and blonde and flat-chested.”

  Everything Tally wasn’t.

  “Then the initials would have been JA. I never brought Jules, or any other girl, here. I used to cut through the woods going to your house, hoping you’d be out in the yard and I could talk to you. You never were.”

  “Future famous dancers don’t play in the yard.” Or anywhere else.

  “So I gather. I passed this tree coming and going every time. It became symbolic.”

  “The symbolic dead tree.”

  “The symbolic yearning for growth, thwarted by nature’s caprice.”

  Symbolism was in the eye of the beholder. In her eye, it was a dead tree; in his, it was cheesy corn with a side of ham.

  “So it was our tree, and I made it official.” He traced the rough letters with his fingers. “I think we were nine.”

  “Ben.” The tightness in her lungs made her voice weak. “Nine?”

  “Yeah. By thirteen, I wasn’t hoping you were out playing Barbies. My fingers were crossed for lying out in a bikini or washing the truck in short shorts and a wet T-shirt.”

  “So by thirteen, it was symbolic of wood.”

  “Could you not reduce my beautiful feelings to a crude and accurate penis metaphor?”

  She laughed against his neck as he resumed the trek toward her house.

  “‘I always wondered who CC was.’ Jesus, woman. Do I have to spell it out for you?”

  “Probably take forever with a pocket knife.”

  “I would have put in the time if I’d known you’d be so dense about it. Why’d you kiss me thinking I brought you to a shrine to another girl?”

  She hadn’t known what else to do to compete with that girl’s ghost. “You were very quiet.”

  “I see. You were thanking me for shutting up for the first time in my life.”

  Other people’s silence made her nervous. She was used to being told what was expected of her, corrected, reminded constantly of her shortcomings.

  Ben didn’t direct or control. She had to guess what he wanted from her. While he obviously enjoyed many of her attempts to please, she never knew if she was attempting the right thing.

  Why had she chosen one option over half a dozen others at any given time? Selfishness. “I wanted to know what your lips felt like.”

  “It was that simple?”

  “Simple?” She’d never been so afraid of being judged lacking. “I had no idea what I was doing.”

  He stopped and braced his hand against a tree.

  “I thought you’d brush me off. Nicely, of course, which would have been a million times worse than being a jerk so I could be mad at you. Do you need me to walk?”

  “No.” His hand returned to its position supporting her thigh. “My answer was always yes, Tal.”

  She’d done her best to keep it that way. If he’d been insistent about getting in her pants, she would have given in because her fear of being the disaster that ruined his life was no match for her want — for him and to make him happy in any fleeting, meaningless way she could.

  She wanted his answer to be yes because she was worth something, not because he was too nice to hurt her feelings. She’d given him everything she could and tried not to take enough from him to diminish the value of what little she gave.

  She stopped giving, stopped taking entirely, when he asked for self-destruction.

  Marry me, Tally.

  Ben. No.

  Her one unselfish decision.

  A golden glow guided him to the edge of the woods. They emerged from the trees across the street from her house. The porch light was on, the windows dark.

  She kept her voice pitched low so the neighbor’s dog wouldn’t join the conversation. “I’ll grab my keys and drive you home.”

  The gravel driveway popped like bubble wrap under Ben’s shoes in defiance of the quiet. “You need your sleep.”

  “It’ll take three minutes round trip, including the goodbye kiss.”

  “On top of the five-mile hike you had to take because of my stupidity, and good luck getting out of a goodbye kiss with me in under three minutes. Besides, if I don’t complete the walk of shame, I’ll never learn my lesson.”

  “The twentieth time you hear ‘Why didn’t you lock it?’, you’ll have learned it like your name.” She slid off his back once the relative safety of the porch was underfoot. “At least take your shirt.”

  “And deprive the mosquitoes of the best meal they’ve had in... however long mosquitoes live?”

  It was so adorable he thought he was going to win this round. “Promise you’ll take the road this time.”

  “Oh, hell yes. You couldn’t pay me to go back in those woods.” He cast a haunted look behind him. “I didn’t want to scare you, but I saw three inbred hill people, two clowns, and a creepyass doll in there.”

  “Yeah, I know. They’re in cahoots with the possum.” She reached inside the door to flip off the light, bending over further than necessary, making sure the shirt rode up her ass.

  She knew how to put on a show, after all.

  “Upon further consideration, I’ll take the shirt and everything else you’re wearing.”

  Objective achieved, she straightened up. “First golf, now borrowing women’s undies. Who would’ve thunk it?”

  Shielded by the night, she peeled his shirt over her head. Before the cotton cleared her eyes, his hands were on her hips, his mouth on hers.

  Unwilling to extend the show to the nosy neighbors, she broke the kiss by pulling the shirt down over his head.

  “I’m never going to wear this shirt again without thinking of the way you look in it.”

  It was inside out and backwards. She twisted the label around to the back. “You’ll never wear it without everyone thinking you’re a pothead. You should burn it before you try to get through airport security.”

  He stuck his arms though the sleeves and pulled the shirt down over his flat belly. “I’ll take my chances for sentiment.”

  A souvenir when he left and she was nothing but a memory.

  He hadn’t said anything she didn’t already know. Maybe it was his smile that made time race forward out of control, as if he was already relieved to be home, but of course he was. Who would
n’t be? Nobody would stay in this town if they had anywhere else to go.

  What else was there to do but smile back?

  Chapter 23

  Ben walked into the bakery Wednesday afternoon and stretched up to whack the buzzer before it had a chance to irritate Tally. All the busywork at his mom’s house had given him delusions of handiness. If he took the buzzer apart to diagnose what ailed it, maybe Tally would be happy when he couldn’t put it back together and she never had to listen to it again.

  She popped her head out of the kitchen, her go-away customer-service face in place. He waved. She waved back with no change in expression and returned to the kitchen without saying a word.

  The patron waiting at the counter had a smile for him, at least.

  Ben beat him to the punch line. “Yes, I left the keys in it. I’m a naive small-town boy. These things don’t happen where I’m from.”

  Reverend Dunn chuckled. “Ah, the good old days, but you’re too young to wax nostalgic about when radio was king and social networking meant cutting a rug at the sock hop.”

  “Judging by my recent interactions with today’s youth, I’m officially a geezer. Giving lectures about responsibility. Issuing dire warnings about the consequences of one’s actions. And don’t get me started on the price of gasoline.” Ben had plenty to say about that subject after filling up the Buick twice in three days. The hooligans ditched the car half a mile from where they boosted it, not even fumes left in the tank.

  “Sounds a lot like my job. Welcome home, Ben.” The Rev clasped his hand. “Though I wish the reception had been more hospitable. I hear you’re not pressing charges.”

  Ben had heard the same you’re too soft, but good boy for not turning on your own tone a dozen times that morning. At this point, he wished someone would come right out and say You did the right thing or You’re a dumbass and put an end to the uneasy balance between approval and disapproval. Rocking back and forth on the tipping point was giving him motion sickness. “I’ll probably regret it later, but it seemed counterproductive to yank them out of school and give them criminal records, so we’re fast-forwarding to restitution. They’re sanitizing the car and sweating off the gas and inconvenience they caused with a year of yard work.”

  “They’ll wish they were in juvie before the summer’s over.”

  “It’s not penance if it doesn’t hurt.” Better the boys dropped dead of heatstroke than his mom, Tally, or Wayne. On the bright side, if they survived, they’d have less free time on their hands to get in trouble.

  “I’ll pray they understand how fortunate they are that you thought of their futures when they haven’t been.”

  He’d been thinking of his past more than their futures. “I remember what it was like to be here and seventeen and restless.”

  “You never got in that kind of trouble.”

  “There were jobs all over the place back in my day.” Besides, Tally wouldn’t have approved. Ultimately, it hadn’t been his mom or his coaches or even lack of free time that kept him on this side of the not-so-fine line between breaking rules and breaking laws. Exiled princesses did not fall in love with petty criminals. He wasn’t a prince or even a knight, but at least he made an honest living as a jester — and sometimes he made the princess smile.

  He tilted his head, hoping to catch another glimpse of Tally through the door. “I had something more important to keep me occupied.”

  The Rev gave him a knowing look. “The heart of a good woman does bring out the best in us.”

  The pursuit of her heart kept a man busy, anyway.

  She came out of the kitchen bearing a tray piled high with loaves of bread. “This is all that’s left. The school needed a supplement this morning.”

  The Rev took the tray from her. “There’s a special place in Hell for politicians who save money by taking food out of the mouths of children.”

  She laid a hand over that coveted heart. “That is the best news I’ve heard in years, Reverend Dunn.”

  “You should come to the potluck tonight, both of you. Bringing a dish is optional. Apart from grace, so is the Jesus stuff.”

  Ben had been looking forward to the Wednesday night rave, but he would have to miss this one. “I have other plans.”

  Tally also declined the invitation. “You know why I won’t go.”

  “You could prove you won’t be struck by lightning if you walk into God’s house.”

  She arched a brow. “Maybe I would be.”

  “It would be mighty unchivalrous of Him to strike down the angel who caters His parties.”

  “Stella’s the angel. I just do what I’m told.”

  “Next time I speak to Stella, I’ll be sure to thank her for all this bread that miraculously appeared after the school cleaned out her bakery before lunch.”

  She went still, afraid to move and get more tangled in the trap she’d stumbled into. “It’s a bakery. There’s always bread lying around.”

  “I thought it was exerting itself more than that, since it’s warm.”

  She looked at her feet, cheeks blotchy with color. “People need to eat.”

  Her discomfort made Ben’s heart hurt. He wasn’t the only one she had trouble accepting kindness from. How little practice had she gotten, between growing up with her mother and the current hail of condemnation? He wanted to supply the missing kindness until it no longer made her uneasy, until she was so used to it, she accepted it as her god-given right and demanded it like Veruca Salt with her golden goose.

  He’d spoil the hell out of her if she’d allow it.

  Reverend Dunn maintained his flow of praise despite her attempts to reject it. “That they do, and many rely on your good heart to do so, Tally. On their behalf, thank you for the gift.”

  Ben opened the door for him. “Can I hold that for you while you unlock your car?”

  The Rev chuckled. “He can be taught! Thank you, Ben, but I’m on foot. Stay with my blessing.”

  It was nice to have some blessing. Nicer still that it came from the local morality expert. Where did anyone in this town get off being judgmental when God’s representative saw only good in Tally?

  He pushed the door closed and turned to face her. Nothing about her wasn’t good. She could save the day with bread or a smile, a taunting brow, a hand on his shoulder, a kiss.

  She pursed her lips and squinted at him. “You left the keys in it?”

  The one time he wished she hadn’t been paying attention to him, of course she’d heard everything. “On purpose. So I could keep you mostly naked longer.”

  “If you’d tell people that, you’d be off the hook.”

  And Tally would take his place. Over his dead body. He hadn’t been able to leave her out of the story, but fear of the wrath of Wayne Castle had motivated the boys to forget, at least for the time being, that she and her clothing had been separated at the time of the theft, and local law enforcement was widely known to be a lousy source of gossip. Her reputation was as safe as he could make it in the wake of thoroughly compromising it. “I’m very discreet.”

  Her mouth took on a wry twist. “Your secret has always been safe with me.”

  If he had any secrets, she’d be the only person in this town he’d trust with them. Her lies were weak, but her silences were impenetrable. “Mom indicated she would allow me to spend money on a lobster dinner, so I’m taking her out tonight. I came by to give you the good news that I won’t be visiting disaster upon you this evening.”

  “I’ll have to entertain myself, then.”

  He would love to hear in slow, graphic detail how she entertained herself when alone. Since it would be awkward if a customer walked in while he was drooling and hard, he didn’t ask her to elaborate. “In the unlikely event you haven’t heard already, if your lawn isn’t mowed, raked, weeded, edged, debris cleared, shrubs trimmed, gutters cleaned, snow shoveled, and whatever else you can think of to your satisfaction for the next three hundred sixty-five days, call Officer Beaver, and he’
ll give the delinquents a joyride in the back of his cruiser.”

  “Why? They didn’t steal my car.”

  “They lost your clothes.” He’d driven around trying to find where her clothes and shoes had become litter but gave up that search as futile after a couple of hours. The punks could have traveled every road in the tri-county area on that tank of gas. “You had to walk home. You were deprived of watching me enjoy that last piece of pizza. They’re working at my mom’s, too, but I’m hoping she won’t be around much longer.”

  Both her brows shot toward her hairline. “You’re that sure you’ll win next time you two try to kill each other?”

  “Hell no. She fights dirty. I’ll settle for talking her into moving to a house that’s not falling apart. Single men other than Jed. Golf.” Something had to entice her. He just had to figure out what that thing would be.

  Tally gave him a high-voltage smile. “Well, good luck. Have a nice time. Try not to pick a fight.”

  He rubbed his forehead, where a premonition of doom clawed for purchase. “Maybe I should ask the reverend to pray on that, too.”

  Chapter 24

  Tally knew all along Ben was leaving.

  She also knew he came back to visit his mother every year or so. She knew, at the very least, she would see his smile again. His blue eyes. His messy hair. Maybe, possibly, get to touch him again.

  One tiny thing to look forward to. Someday. Maybe.

  Now she knew he planned to take his only reason to return with him when he left, and all her previous knowledge was obsolete.

  He was leaving, and he was never coming back.

  She should have recognized that flickering spark of potential in the future as a warning, a flashing yellow light on the barricade at the cliff’s edge, not a beacon to race toward. There was no future for them. There never had been.

  At least this time, the responsibility of severing the tie and walking away wouldn’t fall on her. This time, she could take a seat, put her feet up, and wait for her heartache to be delivered.

  She went through the motions of prepping the morning’s baking and cleaning up. More than once, she emerged from a daze to find she’d stalled for who knew how long, in the middle of who knew what chore. When she couldn’t figure out why she had a hammer in her hand, she returned it to the toolbox without hitting anything.