by Lindy Zart
“Mom was stubborn,” I say with a smile. Using the past tense to describe the spark that was my mom’s life seems wrong. Yes, she’s gone, but she also lives in my heart, always. “And fierce. Independent.”
“Bullheaded,” Duke adds, half of his mouth lifting.
“That too.”
We share a smile.
I state simply, “She was the best.”
Pain fills Duke’s eyes and he turns his face to the scene outside the window. “Definitely that.”
“How did you see the paper?” The crumpled-up paper with the statement ‘Don’t ever give up on you’ and Cecily Scottam’s name.
“I was at the office, getting things ready for when Ben’s gone, and I found it in a pile of material Ben said we should consider selling to one of our greeting card companies.”
Ben. I’ll see him in a handful of days and after that? Will I ever see him again? And if I don’t, am I okay with that? I look down, locking my fingers in my lap. No. I’m not. I can’t make him stay and I can’t make him feel bad about going. Is this how my mother felt, when she let Duke go?
“She used to tell me that, you know.”
I look up. Another piece of the past has been put in its place. “Did she?”
Duke nods, sadness claiming his eyes and thinning his mouth. “Cecily pushed me away, but she also pushed me to better myself.”
There is so much I want to ask. I wonder how long they knew one another; I wonder how they were able to let go of each other. I wonder how my mom could give up that kind of love. And I see her, clear and bright, smiling inside my head as she says, “I didn’t give up anything. There was no sacrifice, not for you.”
I briefly close my eyes, taking a deep breath. Everything I knew growing up wasn’t quite right; my childhood was filled with gaps where another person should be. Two people made me, but I only knew one. I was split in half, but my mom tried her mightiest to make me feel whole.
I am okay—or, at least, I will be, I whisper to her from the recesses of my mind.
“What really happened…” Duke begins slowly. “With you and Ben when you were lost?”
I stare at the table, my shoulders lifting and lowering with each breath I take. I finally look up, holding my father’s curious and somewhat wary gaze. “We saved each other.”
His eyes narrow. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.” That’s so not it, but I’m not sharing more. It’s personal.
After a strained minute, Duke nods. “Will you stay at Sanders and Sisters?”
I search my father’s face, seeing only sincerity. “Would you like it if I did?”
“Yes,” he answers right away. “I would.”
I start to tell him I’ll stay, but I hesitate. Something holds me back from making that kind of commitment. Not even sure why, I say to Duke, “I don’t know.”
Duke’s shoulders drop. “I just got you.”
I touch his shoulder. “Even if I don’t stay there, I’ll stay a part of your life—if you want me to be.”
“You will be a part of my life,” he states firmly. “You are. You’re my daughter.”
My throat closes around another set of tears, but these are good ones.
At the sight of my tears, Duke stands and enfolds me in his arms once more. Serenity comes with the embrace. I have a father.
“I’m never letting you go, Avery. I promise you that,” he quietly vows. “You’re aren’t getting rid of me. I’m here, to stay.”
I burrow my face in the crook between his shoulder and neck, hugging my dad with all my strength. I have years of hugs to stock up on. Years of stories to tell, memories to make, and laughter to share.
I grew up in Montana and that was my home. But now, here, in my dad’s arms, I also feel home. Mingling with the scent of my dad’s cologne is a softer, sweeter scent, like a hello and goodbye from my mom came through an unopened window. Peacefulness descends, and I can breathe a little easier.
BEN
Oblivious to my presence, my coworkers interact with one another as I keep company with the shadows. The party is outside, on the spacious second floor deck of Duke’s studio apartment. Strings of lights cover the railing, soft music playing from the stereo system that costs more than I make in months. I’m not generally antisocial, but it’s interesting to watch the people I work with laugh and talk with one another, completely at ease and having fun. These people are my friends; some I consider close to family. It will be strange not seeing them almost every day. This is a bittersweet event and I’m the guest of honor.
The person I have yet to see is Avery; she’s the one I want to see the most.
I run a hand across my face, disrupting the new black glasses I purchased on my return. Blinking my eyes into focus, I straighten from the wall, my heart slamming into the barriers around it as my gaze latches on to a golden-haired beauty dressed in creamy lace that molds to her breasts and flares from her hips in a tantalizing dance of seduction. The demureness of her dress contrasting with the curves of her body makes my throat dry and puts an ache in my groin. She didn’t straighten her hair, letting it fall naturally around her bare shoulders in waves.
The world fades, sounds mute, and it’s only Avery and me when she turns and notices me. Funny, no one else did, but she sees me right away.
Avery smiles and the sky tips.
I try to breathe and find I can’t, and I think, air is overrated.
Her eyes shine like golden pools as she walks toward me. Vivid and inimitable, Avery lives in the light that makes up the sun. The sound of voices picks up, the music seems to blare, it all raging through my head in a cacophony of heightened awareness. Avery looks happy, at ease in a way she hadn’t before we got lost together.
I meet her in the middle of the deck, fisting my hands to keep from threading my fingers through her hair and kissing the hell out of her luscious mouth. I can see her freckles, the sight of the adorable markings tipping my mouth up at the corners. I think she knows who she is now, and she is one bad-ass, sweet, complex, compelling, silly, smart, brave woman. She’s everything.
“Hello, Avery.” My voice is uneven and raspy.
“Hello, Ben,” Avery replies, her features soft, welcoming.
One more touch, a part of me begs. Just one more touch and I can let her go. It’s a lie, but I’ve told it to myself daily since we came back from Shawnee National Forest. I stayed away after the hospital, thinking it was best for her if we didn’t interact. I was going to cut the ties, make a clean break, and whatever other cliché one can think up to explain keeping their distance from something they want and shouldn’t. .
I’m looking at the woman who uprooted my life and all I can think about is how glad I am that she did.
“This is a nice party,” she continues.
“Is it?” I haven’t participated; I don’t know if it is or isn’t.
Avery laughs. “It is.”
I nod. “Good. I’m glad.”
Avery steps closer, her voice low when she tells me, “You don’t have to worry about me being pregnant. I got my period.”
Relief hits me, but there’s something else that comes with it, something faint, and maybe a little sad. Something I wasn’t expecting. I look into golden eyes, all shutters taken down from my heart. One day. I can see that with you one day.
“Good,” I say with a parched throat. “That’s good.”
She gives me a quizzical look. “Are you feeling okay?”
“No,” I say abruptly.
“What’s wrong?” Avery steps closer, bringing that citrus scent I love with her.
“I, uh…” I rub the back of my neck. It’s best to get it all out there. That way, there can be no regrets from my end. “The thing is, I…”
A hand grabs my biceps, unusually hard, and I look into glacial eyes. “Ben,” is all Duke says, my name on his lips sounding like a death sentence.
My stomach plummets to my feet.
He knows.
&nbs
p; “Hey, Duke.” I look at where his fingers are squeezing my arm, the knuckles of his fingers tight. I lift my gaze back to his, trying not to flinch at the look in his eyes. “Thanks for the party.”
“Tell me you aren’t looking at my daughter the way I think you are,” comes out in growl.
Now is not the time to be a smart-ass, and yet I ask, “What way would that be?”
Duke’s jaw goes taut. “The way I look at a woman.”
“Dad,” Avery moans. “Please don’t turn into an overprotective, control-freak.”
“You’re just a child!”
“I’m twenty-five!”
He swings around to face his daughter, jabbing a finger of his free hand at her. “I just got you. As far as I’m concerned, you’re still a baby!”
“Duke, come on,” I try to reason, stunned by this fatherly side I didn’t think he had. “I think you’re looking into the situation way more than is warranted.”
Duke turns hard eyes on me. “What situation?”
“No situation,” I hasten to assure him. “It’s a figure of speech.”
“I asked you what happened in the forest,” he says to Avery. “You said nothing.”
Avery’s face goes red. “I didn’t say that; I said we saved each other.”
In spite of my arm being slowly amputated by Duke’s grip, my body warms at Avery’s words. I meet her eyes, and she smiles weakly.
“You implied that nothing happened!”
“Dad, stop already,” she moans, sounding exactly as an exasperated daughter should.
“Is everything all right over here?” Carrie Marx asks, appearing next to us, her green eyes moving from one face to the next. She’s a phenomenal artist and savvy with social media, her talents taking the company to places it otherwise wouldn’t go without her.
“Duke’s giving me a proper goodbye, right, Duke?” I jerk my arm in an attempt to dislodge his grip and he finally releases me.
Duke smooths a hand over his black and silver hair. “Right.”
Carrie tugs at the end of her braided red hair, looking unconvinced. “Well, if you’re done, maybe we can get back to having a party—or start having one.” She lifts her eyebrows.
I look around, noting all eyes are on us. It’s a small group, and we’re pretty close. A kink in the balance and everyone is affected. Duke’s present mood has those around him uneasy. Even with being a hard-ass to the end, he’s generally a level-headed individual.
“You’re fired,” he tells me.
I said generally.
“I’m not an employee of yours anymore, remember?” I cross my arms and meet my former boss’s lethal gaze. He’s being an ass. Yes, he just learned that Avery is his daughter. She’s also an adult. “I gave my notice as soon as we got back.”
“Did you?”
I gesture around us. “This is my going-away party.”
Duke rubs his jaw. “Hmm.”
I roll my eyes. “That you’re hosting.”
“Good.” He drops his hand. “Then I won’t have to fire you.”
I make a sound of disbelief, shaking my head at Duke’s behavior. “What exactly are you so pissed about?”
As far as I know, he doesn’t know what went on between us. Then again, maybe that’s why he’s so pissed—because he doesn’t know.
He opens his mouth, looking ready to tear me a new one, and then he stops. In a bemused tone, Duke tells me, “None of your damn business.”
“This is supposed to be a goodbye party for Ben,” Avery says softly, taking her dad’s hand to tug him around to face her. “Can we try to make it a good one?”
Duke drops his gaze. “Avery, I—”
“Let’s talk about it later—or not at all,” she adds, glancing at me.
“But—”
“Please.” Avery widens her eyes, using one of her innocent looks that used to make my teeth clench and had all the other men like putty in her hands.
It works.
Duke nods brusquely, sending one last glare my way before striding toward the outside bar, complete with a hired bartender.
Avery gives me an apologetic look when our eyes meet, but I can’t even be upset. She is who she is, and I want her exactly as she is. I will never go back to pretending I don’t care for her. With pressure in my chest and a weird emotion I can’t name swirling through me, I give her a small smile and she returns it.
23
BEN
“What’s up with him?” Carrie asks, following Duke with her eyes.
Avery takes a deep breath and blurts, “He found out I’m his daughter and he’s having a difficult time adjusting.”
The redhead blinks and then slowly nods. “Oh. Well, okay then. Understandable. You’ll have to explain that all to me one day.”
Avery laughs softly. “I will certainly try.”
Carrie tilts her head and studies Avery. “You seem…different.”
“Oh?” Avery’s eyes shoot to mine. “How so?”
“I don’t know, but you do. More carefree, maybe? I’m not sure.” She shakes her head and looks at me. “It’s still hard to believe that you two were lost out there for days. That must have been scary.”
I look at Avery, not saying anything. I haven’t said much about our experience to anyone; I doubt she has either. However terrifying it was at times, it was ours. We shared it. And it turned out to be something special. Life-altering.
“What happened to the men who harassed you?” Carrie continues.
My eyes don’t move from Avery’s face. “We had to give the police a statement about what happened. The men are facing criminal charges and jail time, probably large fines too.”
Carrie shakes her head. “That’s so crazy. I’m glad you’re both okay.”
Out of everything we faced, the scariest moment was when she was almost taken. Even now, my heart squeezes, remembering the look on her face—as if half of her wondered if I’d be able to save her. I swallow thickly and look down. She’s safe, I remind myself. She’s here, and she’s safe.
Again, I fight the need to take her in my arms. Sweat breaks out on my skin and I swipe a hand over my damp forehead.
“It’s so weird how lost you guys got. You ended up on private land, right? Completely out of the designated area,” Carrie muses.
“It was the crows,” Avery comments.
Carrie blinks. “Crows?”
“Yes.” Avery nods and offers no further information.
I fight a grin and shove my hands in my pockets, enjoying the flummoxed look on our coworker’s face.
“It isn’t hard to believe that you were the first one back,” Avery says after a pause.
Carrie and Anne found the lodge in a couple hours. It’s no wonder; Carrie is a natural athlete who enjoys hiking, kayaking, hunting, and any other thing you can think of that has to do with outside.
“Trust me, it wasn’t easy. Anne whined the whole time. The only reason she made any effort to get back was because she knew she wouldn’t get her phone until she did.”
I spot Anne Dobson, dressed in her usual black clothing, standing alone near the railing, texting on her cell phone.
“It looks like Nate and Juan mended their relationship,” Avery states, continually glancing at me as she provides small talk to cover up my sudden muteness.
Although it was nothing like what happened with Avery and me, Nate Fields and Juan Martinez had a small mishap on the mountains. A snake found them, or they found a snake. Either way, it didn’t end in the best of ways.
“Sucking the venom from someone’s butt can do that to you, I guess.” Carrie clears her throat to keep a laugh inside.
“I guess the retreat worked then, didn’t it? We’re all better for it. Only a couple of us had bad experiences. Well worth the pain.” Derision clings to my words.
No one says anything for a dozen heartbeats.
“Duke said he recommended that you both—or any of us if we like—speak with a counselor in case the
re is any post-traumatic stress.” Carrie’s eyes are on me.
“Do you wish it hadn’t happened?” Avery asks softly, ignoring Carrie.
I take in the image she portrays, hope and doubt clashing in her eyes, and I step closer.
“I’ll just…” Carrie jabs a thumb over her shoulder and hastily exits our sides.
“No,” I tell her in a low voice, reaching up to touch a lock of Avery’s hair. It slides through my fingers, and I move another step toward her, until our faces are side by side, our fronts inches apart.
I turn my head the slightest amount to the side and rub my cheek against her hair. A small sound leaves Avery, her hands coming to rest on my arms. Her palms tremble against my skin. I squeeze my eyes shut, wanting her with me today, and tomorrow, and forever.
I jerk back at the direction of my thoughts, staring down at Avery. I breathe raggedly, the words stilted when I say, “Come with me.”
“Hey, Ben! Are you going to actually tell anyone goodbye tonight, or just hang out in a corner with Avery?” Bob Bellamy calls from across the deck, grinning and saluting us with a beer.
“Not that we blame you,” Nate adds, wiggling his thick eyebrows.
I meet Avery’s gaze, drinking in the flummoxed look that’s taken over her features, the way her chest moves fast with her breaths. I say it again, with more feeling and firmness. “Come with me.”
“Calling Ben Stitzer, now a former employee of Sanders and Sisters, to the center of the deck for unforgettable farewell shenanigans,” Juan shouts, his accented voice larger than his five-foot-five frame.
Nate chants my name, gaining an irritated look from me. The rest of the guys join in, until all I hear is the drone of “Ben.” When I don’t join them fast enough, they come to me, pulling me toward the bar. Even Mike Schooner, the quiet one out of the Sanders and Sisters’ employees, gets into it, thumping me on the back.
I look at him, surprised by his behavior. He smiles and shrugs. The guy rarely speaks, let alone partakes in anything involving a group. I guess we’ve all changed since the Extreme Retreat experience. And, I suppose, for the better. Some of my resentment toward Duke’s unconventional actions fades, with stress on the word “some.”
