“I’m excited to get started,” Joyce said. “I’ll admit when Allison mentioned this, and we started texting, I never thought it would become a reality. But now not only can I see our café, but cafés all around the country serving the military and civilians alike and giving back.”
“To be honest, getting this one café up and running feels as daunting as climbing Mount Everest.” Harper slumped back in her chair.
“We’ll take it one piece at a time. And don’t be afraid to delegate.” Madeline was the picture of confidence. Harper wanted to borrow some.
They reviewed their immediate-action items. Madeline would look into sourcing the beans and locating a roasting company that took on contract work at a reasonable price until they could purchase their own roaster. Joyce would pursue negotiations over the location. If she couldn’t talk the man down on the space Harper and Bennett looked at the day before, she would find suitable places in their price range and send Harper the specifics. And finally, Allison volunteered to handle the charity portion of the plan.
Harper waved the two women off from the front porch. Madeline possessed a bouncy optimism Harper lacked. She was a natural people person who would be perfect spearheading the supply chain. And Joyce was a hard-nosed negotiator who would do well dealing with vendors. The weight of responsibility and the suffocating feeling of being overwhelmed had lessened. She wasn’t alone.
She rejoined Allison in the kitchen, sitting across from her and sipping at her lukewarm coffee. “Madeline and Joyce are fabulous.”
“I know.” Allison’s laughter faded into pensiveness. “Joyce has been depressed since her nest emptied last fall. She stopped coming to our meetings. Today was the first time I’ve seen her smile in months.”
“I don’t want to let them down.” Harper’s worst fears bubbled up.
“You haven’t been happy in Nags Head for a couple of years now. Your talents are wasted keeping books for other businesses. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“I lose all the money that was going to go toward Ben’s college.” Was she being foolish? Harper rubbed her hands over her face and through her hair, her mom’s accusations reeling through her mind. She’d been safe and content. But not happy. Not for a long time.
“Except you were going to give the money back to Bennett, anyway.”
“True.”
“If the café fails, then you keep on living with your mom and working. But if it succeeds, you’ll be giving these women something to get up for in the morning. Something that’s theirs and not their husband’s or the military’s. And you might make enough to pay for Ben’s college along the way.”
Allison was a wise mama bear to all the women who crossed her path. Harper put aside her own worries—they could wait—and concentrated on Allison. Someone needed to mama bear her. “Are you sure you want to take on a chunk of responsibility with everything going on?”
“I need this, too, Harper.” Allison kept her gaze on the coffee in her mug.
“Do you think Bennett has done any good for Darren?” Harper asked softly.
“He got out of bed this morning to go shooting with him. That’s an improvement.”
Harper tiptoed around the minefield. “Do you worry about Darren doing something … rash?”
“I worry about Darren every second of the day.” Her voice fell to a whisper.
The word “suicide” reverberated around them even though it remained unsaid. “If you’re that concerned, you’ve got to force him in some kind of program.”
“How? Put him on a psychiatric hold at the hospital? He’d never forgive me. Anyway, most of the time I don’t worry he’ll actually hurt himself.”
“But sometimes you do.”
“At night when I can’t sleep, my mind goes round and round, imagining the worst.”
Harper had experienced a similar spiral of anxiety after word had reached her of Noah’s death. It had robbed her of sleep, happiness, and nearly her sanity.
“Can you talk him into going out for a weekend with Bennett?”
“I’m going to try, but it’s like he doesn’t have the energy to keep himself together that long. After you and Bennett leave, he’ll crawl into bed and not come out until morning when he has to show up at work.”
“How can his commanding officer not see what’s going on?”
“Maybe he does. Or maybe Darren has learned to hide it at work.” Her voice choked off. “I’m terrified he’ll be handed another deployment. What would happen?”
Nothing good, that was for certain. “If that happens, you’ll have to talk to someone.”
“It might ruin his career.”
Harper didn’t know how much sympathy would be afforded Darren. Things were changing, but the SEALs were known for being the baddest of the badasses. Either weakness was trained out of them or they quit.
“The alternative is not an option.” Harper wished she had something more useful to give Allison besides advice and platitudes.
The front door opened and chesty, male laughter drifted into the kitchen. Allison’s gasp and fleeting smile spoke of hope.
Bennett’s shadow filled the doorway before he appeared, tall and broad and more attractive than he had any right to be. Harper’s complicated feelings toward him defied easy labels and refused to be compartmentalized. What was clear from her eavesdropping the night before was the Noah-sized gash in her heart refused to let her move forward until it was healed. She suspected the truth would be a good start.
Darren leaned down to kiss Allison’s cheek, and she groped for his hand. This time, he didn’t pull away from her touch but pulled up a chair and draped his arm over the back of hers. She tilted toward him, her attention fixed on his face. He appeared almost carefree and his mood highlighted the stark difference in him from the night before.
“Did you boys hit the bull’s-eye every time?” Harper asked lightly.
Bennett poured himself a mug of coffee and took the empty chair. His knee bumped hers. “Darren schooled me. I’m rusty.”
“Griz was the best shot on the team. Beating him has been my life’s ambition.” Darren’s grin cast Harper back to all the cookouts and dinners she and Noah had shared with him and Allison. Some of Allison’s hope infected Harper.
“If you were that good, you should start including firearm training in your survival packages.” Harper slid her gaze to Bennett.
“Nah. Survival pits man against nature and a gun unbalances the equation.” He took a sip of coffee, the pause lengthening and gathering weight. “Anyway, I got my fill of shooting things in the service.”
Bennett’s words were like poison-tipped arrows. Harper fought the urge to draw him closer. Secrets hid behind the admission, too. Secrets that he held close and refused to share.
Allison and Darren seemed immune to the change in mood. Or maybe Harper had become finely attuned to Bennett.
The kids wandered into the kitchen in a video game–induced hunger. Sophie climbed into Darren’s lap, and he tweaked her nose, inducing giggles. As Allison put sandwiches together for the kids and Darren and Bennett caught up with military people she didn’t know, Harper studied the kids.
Libby watched her father out of the corner of her eye, a half smile containing a hint of happiness wrapped in suspicion. Ryan roamed the periphery like a stray dog desperate for a pet but wary after getting kicked too many times. Sophie played with her father’s hand. The difference in size and his gentleness settled a hard knot in Harper’s chest. Darren was a good man going through hell, but at least he had made it home alive.
Sometimes Noah’s memory only wisped on the edges of her day-to-day life, too ephemeral to perceive. But sometimes, usually unexpectedly, his memory punched so hard she lost her breath. The voices around her crescendoed in a buzz of white noise. No one seemed to notice her disquiet.
Except someone did notice.
Bennett’s hand covered hers under the table, linking their fingers. She should shake him off. In
stead, she borrowed on his strength and recovered her composure piece by piece. Relying on a man who might not stick around was dangerous and foolhardy, yet she found herself tightening her grip on him.
She ignored the question in his eyes and pushed up from the table, disentangling them. “We need to get on the road. Ben will be anxious.”
They packed up their overnight bags and loaded into Bennett’s truck. After giving hugs all around, they set off toward Nags Head. The feeling they were leaving Allison and Darren in a better state than when they’d arrived helped quiet her worries.
Others took their place. Worries about Bennett and the past and future.
* * *
Bennett glanced over at Harper on the passenger side of his truck. A discordant note struck between them. He’d been disappointed to find his bed empty the night before. Not ideal circumstances, but if Darren’s middle-of-the-night rambling hadn’t interrupted them, he was pretty sure his conscience wouldn’t have put up a fight.
The way her nails had scratched his back and she had arched into his hands added lighter fluid to the simmering attraction between them. But she was skittish and unsure and he totally understood why. Fate had dealt a cruel hand.
The morning had cast their combined desperation and need in a different light. She had been polite, but the distance between them had widened and a hollow loneliness burrowed in his chest. He was a kid again, reaching for his kite, but the wind snatched it away as his fingers touched the string.
“There’s an auction in a couple of weekends. Do you want to hit it together?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” Her voice was vague.
“Let me know, because I’ll need to check my bookings and free up time.” No response. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “How did the meeting go this morning?”
“Fine.” Her one-word answer was clipped and didn’t invite more questions. A dozen awkward miles passed before she broke the silence. “Did you and Darren have a good talk last night?”
“I wouldn’t call it ‘good.’ Progress maybe. He’s having trouble sleeping. Reliving everything that happened. Not unusual, but he’s not dealing with it well.”
“Obviously.” The heat in her voice was directed at him.
“What’s got your feathers ruffled?” His own frustration, sexual and otherwise, rose to meet hers.
“My feathers are not ruffled.”
He gave a snort and racked his brain. “Are you still mad about the spreadsheet I put together on cost comparisons?”
“No.” She shook her head and looked out the passenger window. He wanted to force her to look at him, talk to him, but he didn’t. “I’m not mad. Not really.”
“What would you call it then?”
“Disturbed? I wonder at the kinds of things you experienced when you were deployed.”
“Don’t waste your time wondering. Look around and be thankful you live in a beautiful place with a son and mother that love you. Don’t you get it? Men like me deal with the ugliness in the world so you don’t have to.”
“Noah used to say the same thing.”
Miles passed in a silence he didn’t know how to breach. Navigating the delicate machinations of a relationship wasn’t his strong point. His internal guffaw was tinged in bitterness. He wasn’t built for emotional complications and difficulties. He’d learned as a boy to pack weak shit away and never let it see the light of day.
How could he and Harper develop anything that resembled a healthy relationship with the history between them—with Noah between them? He couldn’t see a way forward.
“I was at the window last night.” Her soft words took him a second to process. “I need to know, Bennett.”
Anger and guilt exploded like twin bombs in his chest and licked through his body. She had no right to eavesdrop. No wonder she’d retreated and acted like he’d contracted the plague.
“Not going to happen.”
“I have a right to know.” She turned to him, her mouth and chin set.
Had she always been like this? Her emails had never hinted at an intractable streak. Yet he liked her more for it. It was the difference between seeing a flat work of art in a book and the real thing in a museum.
“You got a report.”
“I always sensed there was more and last night confirmed my suspicions. What happened and what did you promise Noah?”
“I can’t.” The words croaked out.
“You mean ‘won’t.’”
“I won’t drag myself—and you—through reliving it. What will it change? Nothing. Noah will still be dead.” Except he foresaw the subject of his nightmare as soon as he closed his eyes that night. He would be reliving it—with grisly embellishments—whether he wanted to or not.
She shook her head and scooted away from him. For the remainder of the drive to Nags Head, neither of them spoke. Before he had the truck notched into park at the curb, she threw open the door, unable to escape fast enough. She disappeared through the front door, leaving it ajar. For him to follow?
An ending stained the moment like a book closing. He wasn’t sure if it even qualified as a breakup considering they weren’t technically together. Still, a melancholy he hadn’t felt in years had him swallowing past a lump. He would miss her.
He sat in the still-running truck and debated the merits of peeling rubber down the road. But Jack London was inside and no way would he leave his dog behind. He was all Bennett had left.
Ben and Jack burst through the door, the boy trying but failing to keep up with the dog. Bennett turned the truck off and slipped out. Jack jumped on Bennett and knocked him back a step, his paws on Bennett’s shoulders, his tongue rasping the side of his face.
Normally, he would discipline Jack, but the welcome was so warm and unrestrained, Bennett rubbed Jack’s flanks and leaned in to give him a hug. His best friend was a dog. Which probably qualified him as a pathetic loser.
“Come on, Big Ben, you said you’d play ball with me.”
Oh shit. In the maelstrom in the truck, the promise had slipped his mind. Ben had his hand and was tugging him. He could have protested and come up with an excuse—albeit a lame one—but he allowed himself to be led around the side of the house to a gate in the fence.
Although tossing a ball with Ben was a small thing, it offered atonement nonetheless. Bennett had convinced himself the money he’d given Harper and Ben fulfilled his promise to Noah, but the money had been the coward’s way out.
Jack followed them and found leaves and birds and squirrels to chase while Ben ran inside and returned with a worn adult-sized football. His first throw to Bennett wobbled and fell six feet short.
Bennett scooped it up on his walk to Ben. “This ball’s too big for your hand.”
“It was my dad’s.”
A rush went through his head and made him feel light-headed and weak. Maybe he had contracted the plague. He took a deep breath and turned the ball in his hands. Noah’s grip was visible in the wear of the leather and the fading across the laces where his fingers would have lain. Along the seam, his name was etched in permanent ink. Noah Wilcox. More permanent than his body.
Bennett tried to clear the emotion out of his throat, but when he spoke, his voice was rough with it. “To get the perfect spiral, you have to grip the laces, here toward the end.” He wrapped Ben’s small fingers in the shadowy memory of his father’s hand.
Bennett took six paces back. “Move your arm forward and back at the elbow and think about the end you aren’t holding spinning through the air. Go on, try.”
The ball sailed in a near-perfect spiral. “I did it.” Ben’s voice was full of wonder.
Bennett launched a soft throw back at him. “Do it again. Remember where to put your hand?”
Ben’s face was a study in concentration as he fixed his grip over the laces. Another decent throw followed. Bennet took a step back with each throw until a good fifteen feet separated them.
“My arm’s tired.” Ben grinned. �
��I’m getting pretty good, huh?”
“You sure are. Just like your daddy.”
Ben tucked the ball under his arm and walked toward the stairs leading up to the back-porch sliding door. He stopped with his foot on the bottom step. “Aren’t you coming? I saved some Oreos and milk for you.”
A shadow drew his eye to the sliding door. It was Harper behind the glass watching them. She didn’t step out to invite him in and his pride grated.
“Not this time. I have to go.”
“Why?” Ben’s face fell, his disappointment writ large on his face and in his body language. Noah had been easy to read like that. Harper was more guarded and Bennett wondered if it was a learned defense or natural.
“Because…” Jesus, what could he say? Certainly not the truth. “I have to work.”
Ben walked over and Bennett dropped to a squat to put them at eye level. “Will you come back and play sometime?” Ben asked.
Bennett’s mouth was inexplicably dry. “I can’t promise anything.”
Ben’s nod was so serious and adult-like, Bennett wanted to promise him anything to return his childlike joy. But he couldn’t. Resiliency was the hallmark of a five-year-old, right? He would be happy again by bedtime.
Ben leaned in and gave Bennett a hug with one arm, the ball tucked under the other. Bennett’s arms came up automatically and wrapped around the boy’s slight body, ball and all.
He didn’t want to drive away and never see Ben again. Noah had named his son after Bennett, and whether it was official or not, Bennett was his godfather. Now, when he was ready to accept the role, Harper didn’t want him around.
Bennett patted his slight, bony shoulder and pulled away. Ben ruffled Jack’s ruff and ran to the steps, a bounce already back. He would be fine without Bennett. And so would Harper. In fact, she’d be better off without him. He’d given her something easy—money. What she demanded was impossible. Their history intersected painfully through Noah and there was no getting over those fault lines.
He stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked away. At the gate, he stopped. Jack wasn’t at his heels or leading the way. The dog sat at the base of the stairs and stared where Ben had disappeared.
The Military Wife Page 20
