Benjamin

by Amelia Adams

  “As much as I’d love your endorsement on the product, I have a confession to make,” he replied. “There’s absolutely nothing special about that fertilizer at all.”

  “I figured that much, but what? Please just tell me.”

  “My father isn’t just the seventh son of a seventh son,” Benjamin began again. “This is the seventh generation of sevens, making it even more unusual. You see, each seventh son is born with a special talent or ability, but in a seventh generation, each of the sons has a gift, and the seventh son has them all.”

  Melissa held up a hand. “Wait. A talent? Like, you can play the ukulele with your toes or something?”

  He chuckled. “I wish, but no.” It might be easier to explain. “I have the ability to talk to plants and make them grow.”

  “You talk to plants? And you make them grow?”

  “That’s right.” He was freaking her out, and he knew it. What he didn’t know was how to make it better. He supposed there really wasn’t a way until he’d told her the entire story. “My oldest brother, Adam, is an empath. My next brother, Caleb, can sense danger. Daniel is a healer, Ephraim has a way with animals, Frank can calm people, and Gideon has a bit of each of those talents. My father has the gift of foresight.”

  “And let me guess—your mother can fly.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what’s going on here, Benjamin, but I don’t appreciate this. Not even one little bit. How stupid do you think I am? Do I have ‘loser’ written all over me or something?”

  “No, not at all. And I promise—I’m telling the truth.” He could really use some of Frank’s calming aura right about then. “Look. Let me show you. Do you see that little shriveled bush just off the nose of the truck?”

  “Of course I see it. I might be stupid, but I’m not blind.”

  He’d address that later. Right now, he had some proof to provide. He’d rather stand right next to the bush, but he somehow knew that if he got out of the truck, she’d find a way to drive off in it and leave him stranded. Or maybe she’d just lock him out and she’d sit there all day. “Watch it.”

  “You want me to watch a bush?”

  “Please. I need to show you that I’m not lying.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine. I’m watching a bush.”

  He opened his door and put one foot on the ground. It wasn’t the same as touching the dirt with his hand, but he was making all kinds of exceptions here. He closed his eyes and sent greetings into the soil, then asked it to carry a message over to the bush. The bush was delighted to speak with him—it had been so long since anyone had paid it any attention at all, and it believed no one even remembered it was there. It was starting to tell Benjamin everything it had seen and experienced since it was planted, but Benjamin gently interrupted it and asked it for a favor.

  “I . . . I don’t believe it.” Melissa’s voice was astonished, and Benjamin opened his eyes and grinned.

  The bush had burst through with some brilliant new green leaves, and more were opening at a rate he wouldn’t have believed himself if he wasn’t looking at it with his own eyes.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, flipping her head around to stare at him.

  “I asked the bush if it could give us a display of beautiful new leaves, and it’s listening to me,” Benjamin replied.

  “How . . . how are you asking?”

  “I make contact with the earth, and then I center my feelings and reach out with my spirit or soul or intuition—whatever you want to call it,” he explained.

  “And you just talk to it?”

  “I just talk to it.”

  She blinked. “And you can do that with any plant?”

  “Pretty much, yes.”

  She looked around. “What about that tree over there?”

  He followed her gesture and saw a little sapling that seemed to have taken a beating that year. Its branches were broken and bent, and the trunk was twisted. He sent another message into the earth, but the tree couldn’t believe anyone would want to talk to it—it was too ugly. He had to send the message several times before he could convince it that yes, he really did mean it. He could tell that Melissa was becoming impatient, but she didn’t say anything.

  He sent a message of hope and cheer to the little tree, then pictured what that tree could look like if it believed in itself. He imagined it growing tall and straight, standing firm against the winds, reaching up into the sky with branches unashamed of their bright leaves and tender new buds. When he opened his eyes, that’s what he saw before him.

  “It just grew,” Melissa whispered. “Right there in front of my face.”

  Benjamin expressed his gratitude to the earth, then brought his leg back inside the cab and closed the door. “So, that’s what I do,” he said awkwardly, realizing that anything he said after that demonstration was going to be a little anticlimactic.

  She shook her head. “Are you like . . . in a cult or something?”

  “You asked me something about cults the other day. No, it’s nothing like that. We’re Bible-reading Christians who pay our taxes and love our country and obey all the laws and donate to charity. We honestly have no idea where this comes from or why, but we do our best to use it for good and to help those around us.”

  She closed her eyes and shook her head again. “I don’t know what to do with this information. I’m just . . . So, you talked to the land, and that’s what made my pumpkins grow?”

  “That’s right.” He’d leave out the part where he caused her pumpkins to shrivel in the first place. She was already having to digest quite a lot.

  “Why are you trusting me with this?” She met his gaze squarely. “How do you know I won’t use it against you somehow? I could be some horrible person who would take this story and sell it to the tabloids or something, and you’d have millions of people trampling all over your crops and upsetting your boys and causing all kinds of problems.”

  “You wouldn’t do that, Melissa.”

  “But how do you know that?”

  “Well, there are two reasons. First off, I’m not an empath like my brother, but I can sense your soul in some way, and you’re a good, true person. I know I can trust you. In the second place, my father has the gift of foresight, like I mentioned, and he said the same thing.”

  “Your father’s having premonitions about me?” She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself again. “What did he say?”

  Benjamin hadn’t meant to go down this particular road so fast, but she was definitely dragging him from crossroads to crossroads without much of a break in between. “He said you’d be an important person in our lives,” he said slowly. “And that we could trust you.”

  “You’re not telling me everything,” she replied. “Come on, Benjamin—I think you owe me the full story.”

  He did, and he knew it. He just wasn’t sure how to put it. “He says that you and I will get married.”

  “Excuse me? We’re getting married?” Melissa shook her head. “Listen, Mr. McClain. I saw your little plant-growing trick and I believe that something . . . weird or wonderful or whatever . . . is going on here. But I’m not getting married because someone’s father says I am. That’s coercion, and I won’t be coerced.” She grabbed the door handle, yanked it, and jumped out.

  “Melissa, wait. At least let me give you a ride back to your farm.” Benjamin didn’t know what to do—he’d messed this up so badly.

  “No. I know where I live—I can find it.” She marched down the road back the way they’d come, and Benjamin sat there, watching, helpless. If he went after her, she’d think he was still trying to coerce her, and he would never, ever do that. If they were going to be together, it would be right for both of them, and they’d do it willingly and gladly and joyfully. In no other way.

  Chapter Seven

  Melissa was so furious, she almost couldn’t see. Blood pounded behind her eyes, and her breath came in short spurts as she stomped down the road. She was throwing a tan
trum and she knew it, but she had no reason to sit there calmly and allow that man to spin his wild stories and try to suck her into his crazy little world. She didn’t owe him anything. Sure, he brought her pumpkins back to life, but that didn’t mean she had to marry him. How messed up would that be?

  They hadn’t driven far before Benjamin pulled over, so she didn’t have far to walk before she was back on her own property. She heaved a sigh of relief as she approached the pumpkin stand. She felt safe here. Maybe she’d never leave home again. She’d become a reclusive pumpkin lady and take in cats and learn how to mull cider. Mulling cider always sounded weird to her, like she was supposed to think about the cider really, really hard, but she realized that would be mulling over cider, and she needed a nap after everything she’d just been through.

  “You’re back already? And you’re walking?” Her father looked up from the money he’d been organizing in the box. “What happened?”

  “I’ll tell you later—I need a little time to process it first.” She glanced around. “You sold quite a few while I was gone.”

  “We did, but listen—there’s something strange happening here. Mike cleared out that whole last row of pumpkins, right? We were moving from the back of the patch to the front?”

  “Yes. What’s the matter?”

  Her dad shook his head. “It’s so crazy, you won’t believe it. He got every pumpkin on that last row, and then he went back to start clearing the second row. But the first row had more pumpkins on it—all the vines have produced more since this morning.”

  “What?” Melissa shook her head and walked into the patch, her father next to her.

  “I know—it’s crazy. Mike swears he’s not mistaken—he knows he had that row entirely clear.”

  When they reached that row, Melissa stood at the head of it and stared down the length. Probably forty pumpkins grew from those vines, each one round and brilliant and beautiful. Benjamin had done this—that was the only explanation. But when? Did he do it just now as some sort of bid to get her attention?

  “How long ago was Mike back here?” she asked her dad.

  “He came and told me about it right after you left,” he replied.

  Okay. She could live with that. Just so long as he wasn’t still reaching onto her property to talk to her stuff and interfere where he wasn’t wanted.

  ***

  “It was ugly. I can’t even tell you how ugly it was.”

  Caleb shook his head. “Sorry about that, bro. It’s not the easiest story to tell, though—I wouldn’t know how to do it gently.”

  Benjamin laid his arms on the top rail of the fence as they waited for the school bus. “At least she believes me about my gift. That’s a start, right?”

  “A start, yes. But to what? Dad’s sure you’re going to marry her?”

  “You know Dad.”

  “Yeah, I know Dad.” Caleb leaned against the fence as well. “If the forces at work here are pushing you together, they’ve got to have a plan for making it all work, right? They wouldn’t proclaim that you’re meant to get married and then leave you on your own to figure it out.”

  “No, I don’t think so. But see, that’s the thing—I’ve never had any doubts about it before, but then again, I’ve never been faced with something this big before, either.” Benjamin ran a hand down his face. “You never said how things turned out with the pitchfork the other day.”

  “Nothing happened—just kept everyone away from pitchforks.”

  “That’s an easy solution. I don’t know how to solve this Melissa problem.”

  “There’s only one other brother who’s gone through this. Might be time to give Adam a call.”

  “I don’t want to bother him,” Benjamin protested, but even as he said the words, he knew Caleb was right. He’d learned years before that if he wanted to be successful, he should ask successful people how they did it. If he wanted to know the best way to talk to Melissa, he’d better ask Adam what to do.

  Before he could talk himself out of it, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed. “Hey, big brother. Sorry to bother you.”

  “You’re not bothering me. What’s up?”

  “I need some advice on how to tell the girl I’m supposed to marry that I’m not insane.”

  Adam laughed. “Oh, so it’s your turn now, is it?”

  “Apparently so.”

  “Who is she?”

  “Melissa Daniels, from the pumpkin patch next door.”

  “I’ve never met her officially, but she seems nice from what I’ve noticed. I approve.”

  “Well, Dad approves, so I guess it’s a done deal. I just don’t know how to fix the mess I’ve made of things.”

  “I tell you what. We’re actually heading home right now, about an hour away from the ranch. I’ll come find you and we’ll talk it out, okay?”

  The relief Benjamin felt knowing that Adam was so close almost took his knees out from under him. He hadn’t realized just how stressed he was until that moment. “Thanks, Adam. You really have no idea what this has been like for me.” He paused, feeling stupid. “Uh, scratch that. You’re an empath. You understand emotions better than anyone.”

  Adam laughed again. “Hang in there, little brother. I’m almost home.”

  ***

  Melissa’s mother just stared at her, mouth open. “What?”

  “Yeah. I’m supposed to marry this guy. Can you believe that?”

  Her father clenched his jaw. “I don’t know who he thinks he is, but he doesn’t get to trounce around making announcements like that, expecting people to fall into line.”

  “I know, right?” Melissa looked back at her mother. “Uh, Mom?”

  “I’m sorry, dear. I just . . . this is amazing.”

  “What do you mean, amazing? Our daughter is being chased by some kind of carnival act, and you think it’s amazing?”

  “No, I think she’s stumbled onto something special. He made a bush and a tree grow right in front of her eyes, dear. That’s not a carnival act—that’s something miraculous.”

  “Creepy is what I call it,” he muttered.

  “I’d like to think it’s something special, but I’m kind of on Dad’s side right now,” Melissa said. “I mean, this guy has a great sense of humor and he’s a gentleman and he’s really good-looking, but he’s also telling me that his dad says he needs to marry me, and that’s just . . . weird.”

  “What if I came to you and said that I really liked a guy you were dating and thought you should marry him?” her mother asked. “Would that be creepy?”

  “No. You’d be sharing your opinion because that’s what mothers do.”

  “So, it’s not at all allowed for fathers to give that kind of advice to their sons?”

  Melissa shook her head. “Nice of you to try playing devil’s advocate, Mom, but this is different. His father had a premonition.”

  “I don’t understand. Having a premonition that you’ll get married is different from commanding you to get married, isn’t it? You’ve been talking like Mr. McClain is some evil tribal leader playing connect the dots between couples, but that’s not what a premonition is.”

  “Are you saying you believe all this mystic stuff?” her father wanted to know.

  “I’m saying that I’ve met people who seem to have a sense of the future, and I don’t discount it.” She stood up and gathered their plates from the table. “Who’s ready for dessert?”

  “It smells good, Mom, but I don’t think I could eat another bite,” Melissa said. In truth, her stomach had been in knots ever since she’d stomped away from Benjamin McClain. She knew she’d done the right thing—no one would ever take her free will away from her. At the same time, though, she’d felt like she was leaving some part of herself behind in that truck, something she wouldn’t be able to get back unless she and Benjamin were together, and she hated that idea. Women could be completely happy without men. A romantic relationship was not the only way to fulfillment. She had to admit, th
ough, that romance did make things a whole lot nicer.

  She loaded the dishwasher, told her parents goodnight, and went up to her room. The Seven Brides for Seven Brothers DVD sat on her nightstand from where she’d left it, and it seemed to mock her. Is that all Benjamin thought he had to do—throw her over his shoulder and carry her off to the McClain ranch? What sorts of weird mating rituals had this movie taught him? But then again, she had to admit that once Millie taught the boys how to treat girls, they straightened up and went about that whole courtin’ thing the right way. Maybe all Benjamin needed was a few lessons.

  She shook her head. What was she thinking? No! It didn’t matter whether he came around with pies or asked her to a barn raising—the answer was no. His family was too bizarre for her. She wanted a nice, stable guy, one who didn’t grow things by talking to them and one who actually lived away from his parents—seriously. Benjamin had never left home. That couldn’t be healthy.

  She changed into her pajamas and climbed into bed, ready to fall asleep, but almost before she knew what she was doing, she found herself starting the movie again. Maybe this was their secret propaganda video—they were brainwashing her through song and dance. She’d have to be extra careful the next day in case she had a sudden urge to chop some wood or make a beef stew or sew a quilt. Those would be definite danger signs that it was getting to her on a subconscious level.

  Chapter Eight

  “That’s quite the story,” Adam said when Benjamin finished filling him in. “I was going to tease you about your lack of tact, but to be honest, I’m not sure I would have handled it much better.”

  “How did you tell Tiffani? I mean, whatever you did, it worked—you’re married now.”

  Adam looked up toward the main house where Tiffani was sitting on the front porch with Lillian, and he grinned. “Yeah, I’m married now. I highly recommend it, too. But first, this little problem has to be solved.”

  “That would be a good idea. Any suggestions?” Benjamin didn’t even try to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.