by Lois Richer
“Your leg.” He waited until she’d sunk into her office chair. “You said your knee was bad. Did you pull a muscle?”
“Sort of.” She sighed. “I’m fine, Ben. But I don’t have time to chat. I gave the crew today off because of a funeral. They’ll be back to work tomorrow, if that’s what is bothering you.”
“My yard can wait.” He glared at her as if she’d offended him. “I was worried about you,” he said, his voice sharp.
“That’s nice, but as you see, I’m fine.”
“Jayne, you are so not fine.” His big brown eyes softened. “Your face is bruised. Your arm is in a sling. You’re limping. You’ve hurt yourself so much you can’t go to work.”
“I am at work. I don’t need to be at your site all the time. The crew knows what to do. Besides, we’re almost finished and I have to get these bids ready. I don’t have another landscaping job lined up. Rose’s Roses is what keeps bread on our table, and I’ve got to find more income to keep it solvent. So if you don’t mind…?”
Ben just stood there, watching her.
Jayne lifted her hand to nudge her glasses higher, but inadvertently touched the wrong spot. The frames fell apart and landed on her desk. For a moment she couldn’t feel the lenses on her desktop and panicked.
“Don’t fuss.” Ben’s fingers brushed against her temples as he replaced the glasses on her nose, minus the broken arm. His fingers burned against her cheek as he pushed her hair back. “Do you have another pair?” he asked gently, his breath brushing against her ear.
“I broke them last week when I tripped,” she muttered, totally embarrassed. “I ordered a new pair.”
“The operation could make them unnecessary. But you won’t have it because you’re afraid.”
“You have no idea how I feel, Ben.” Jayne slapped her pen on the desk and glared at him. “Do you know how many surgeries I’ve had since the accident? Five. Can you imagine how hard it was to push myself through the physiotherapy, the pain and the fears, to make myself keep going each time?”
“No,” he admitted.
“Well, I remember it too well. So lay off.”
“Dear Jayne.” He rested one hip on the edge of the desk and used his fingers to force her chin up. “The point is you did it. You overcame. You succeeded. And you can do it again.”
“The point is,” she said sweetly, glaring at him. “I don’t want to.”
“Because you’re afraid. Because you’re not sure of God, because you don’t trust Him.” He cupped her cheek in his palm and leaned so close his minted breath caressed her. “You’re letting fear win, Jayne, because you won’t risk success.”
“I’m working nonstop to be successful!”
“You’re doing that to avoid thinking about the surgery.” He leaned forward, brushed his lips against hers for a nanosecond, but it was enough to send her heart into overdrive. “If Rose’s Roses fails, you can blame your eyes, say that your eyesight wouldn’t allow you to make the changes you wanted to, or that because of the accident you didn’t have the chances you needed, chances someone else would have. It’s an out. But what if you didn’t have that excuse?”
With a caress of his fingertips against her hair, Ben smiled and left.
Jayne sat stunned by both his words and his touch. The hum of voices from the shop barely penetrated the flurry of emotions that raced through her.
Ben was a friend, that’s all. So why did she want to bury her face in his shoulder and beg him to hold her and never let go?
Because she was falling for him.
“Okay, God, it’s time You and I had a talk.” She poured a fresh cup of coffee and limped outside to sit on the stool in the back of the building where she could be alone with her thoughts.
Where had all these soft mushy feelings for Ben come from? What would she do about them?
And why didn’t God help Rose’s Roses?
She pushed her glasses up and heard Ben’s voice again.
What if you didn’t have that excuse?
“It’s even better than you said it would be.” Ben walked around his yard, appreciating the many details Jayne had incorporated. “The sculptures are perfect.”
“Of course they are. Too bad you weren’t here when they were delivered.”
“Uh-huh.” Ben had deliberately avoided meeting Cass again after hearing from Jerry last night. Someone was doing a lot of poking into David Bentley’s existence.
“The church had some money donated for Cass to create something. She has an idea for the Easter service. She’s going to phone you,” Jayne said.
“Great.” So much for avoidance.
“The fountains look good, don’t you think?”
“Everything looks wonderful. You’ve done extremely well.” Her shoulder bumped his as she stepped awkwardly. Ben assisted her then lifted a gleaming auburn strand from the corner of her mouth. “I insist on taking you and Emma to dinner to celebrate.”
“Oh.” He thought she’d refuse, but after a moment Jayne nodded. “Thank you. That would be nice.”
He arranged for a time to pick them up then stood watching as she drove away. Though he’d added a hefty bonus to her check, Ben had overheard a conversation she’d had with Sidney this afternoon in which they’d commiserated over how tough things were at Rose’s Roses. It left Ben dubious that even his bonus would be enough to solve her current financial woes. That made Ben wary. Was it possible Jayne knew of David Bentley’s true identity and saw Ben as an answer to her troubles? Ben’s imagination exploded and he began to imagine all sorts of scenarios in which Jayne knew his identity as an author and would exploit that knowledge. Whoa! Reality called a halt to his imaginings while his heart questioned even thinking such a thing of her.
Cass. Jayne. You’re suspicious of everyone. Could it be because you feel guilty for not telling Jayne the truth? Especially when you’ve pushed her so hard to face her own truths.
His nagging conscience was bang on. Ben had begun to hate the deception he’d worked so hard to create, but that didn’t make it any less necessary. Never again did he want to find out someone he cared about was using him.
So you care about her.
As more than just a friend. And that’s what worried him the most.
He heard his own words echo in the afternoon’s silence. Life doesn’t come with guarantees. Once in a while you have to take a risk and trust God to work it out.
He cared about Jayne. A lot. He didn’t want there to be any secrets between them. She was creative and beautiful and generous and loving—and he was almost certain she was the woman God had brought him to Palm Springs to meet. Almost.
Yet a nugget of distrust buried deep in his heart still left him wary.
Jayne needed money to keep her business afloat.
Ben made a decision.
He’d wait. He’d spend time praying for God to make his will clear, and he’d do whatever he could to help Jayne. By Easter he’d surely know enough about her to either pursue the relationship or not.
And speaking of Easter, he was overdue to help with the set painting. Tonight at dinner, he’d push for concrete plans from Emma and Jayne about the flowers. Today he knew his path.
Ben was going to wait for God to unfold his future. He only hoped some nosy busybody didn’t spoil it.
“It’s been a lovely evening,” Emma said, smiling. “I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed such a tasty meal.”
“I don’t know when I’ve eaten with two such beautiful women.” Ben squeezed Emma’s hand, but his smile rested on Jayne. “You both look lovely.”
She shifted under that smile, reveling in the warmth of it and the way it made her feel. Tonight she wasn’t clumsy and uncomfortable. Tonight she felt pretty and womanly in the turquoise dress Ben said matched her eyes.
“I’m so glad you clarified the Easter plans. Jayne and I want to coordinate our part completely, even though she’s had to miss meetings. Thank you, Ben.” Emma patted his hand. “But now I thin
k I should go home. I’m a bit weary.”
Having watched gray shadows creep into those beloved eyes, Jayne quickly agreed as she gathered her shawl.
“You two shouldn’t disrupt your evening.” Emma pretended to peer in her purse for something. “The tramway has a late-night car up the mountain. Ben’s never seen it, have you?”
“No,” he admitted.
“Why don’t you and Jayne take a ride up there? It’s such a lovely night.”
“Granny,” Jayne protested, but Ben overrode her.
“It would be great to share it with you, Jayne.”
Privately, she thought so, too. They made Emma comfortable at the condo, Jayne found a heavier wrap then Ben drove up the hill to the boarding area.
“It will be cold up there,” Jayne warned. “Bring your jacket.”
Only a few people were around. They shared the tramcar with one other couple, an elderly pair who held hands all the way up. On arrival, the old man escorted the woman as they exited the tram with tender care then folded her arm through his as they strolled around the outside viewing platform.
“That’s what I want,” Ben murmured as they trailed behind the two seniors.
“What?” Jayne looked around in confusion.
“That. A timeless love like theirs.”
“They could be newlyweds,” she teased. “We get lots of those in Palm Springs.”
“No.” Ben shook his head. “Look at the way he escorts her, close enough to help or lean on. Dependable.”
“And her?”
“She knows he won’t let her trip or fall. They’ve gone through lots of things together and she knows this man, knows he will keep her from harm. They trust each other.” He looked at her, his eyes dark and moody. “That’s the kind of love I want.”
Jayne didn’t know what to say to that, so she pretended to study the snow piled up around a huge rock just beyond the fence. The snow would hang around till late spring, she knew. Maybe longer in the cracks and crannies where the sun didn’t reach.
“You’re awfully quiet.”
“I was thinking about Easter. This will be the twelfth anniversary of my parents’ deaths.”
“I’m sorry.” His hand found hers and squeezed. But he didn’t let go. “It must be hard to celebrate on that day.”
“It’s getting easier.” Jayne quelled the riot in her stomach by drawing her hand away on the pretext of moving to a bench which overlooked the valley below. “Easter celebrations in Heaven must be so much more exciting than ours. I think of my parents there and it gets easier.”
“Do you think our choir will ever master the ‘Hallelujah Chorus’?” Ben asked. He sat down beside her and chuckled. “I heard them this afternoon. There are a couple of voices who will never achieve those high notes.”
“It’s the thought that counts. There’s the wind farm you were talking about the other day,” she said, pointing across the valley. “I wish someone would infuse me with energy.”
“Problems?” Ben leaned back and laid his arm across the bench, behind her shoulders.
“Same old. Same old. I’ve got to figure out a way to up our income.” She shook her head. “Sorry. I don’t want to be a downer.”
“You’re not. I’d like to help.”
“Thanks, but I think this is something I have to do on my own.” She was going to say more but two men who were on the deck above them stood whispering and pointing. “Do you know them?” she asked, surprised by Ben’s frown.
“No.” He rose, held out a hand. “You must be frozen. It’s cold out here. Want to go upstairs and get some coffee.”
“Sure.” Jayne took his hand. They climbed the stairs together. “There’s our couple,” she said, inclining her head toward the elderly pair they’d noticed earlier. “Still holding hands.”
“So are—” Ben stopped speaking when a man stepped in front of him.
“Excuse me? Are you Da—?”
“Ben Cummings.” Ben stared at the two. “Do I know you?”
“Cummings?” One man glanced at the other. They both shook their heads. “No. Sorry to bother you.” As they walked away, Jayne heard one man say, “I told you it wasn’t him.”
“Who do you suppose they thought you were?” she asked curiously.
“No clue.” He led her to a table.
“But this has happened before.”
He shrugged. “Guess I have that kind of face. Now will you have tea or coffee?”
“Tea, please.” She watched him move toward the counter. Ben didn’t have a common kind of face. Not at all. “It seems strange that people keep mistaking you,” she murmured when he returned with their drinks and two small pastries.
“I guess. But there’s nothing I can do about it.” He nodded. “Look at our couple.”
They had turned their chairs to stare out the window and were sitting with their heads leaning against each other’s.
“A match made in Heaven,” she whispered.
“That’s where they should all be made,” Ben said.
He was oddly quiet for the rest of the evening. As he walked to Emma’s condo, he mentioned that his birthday was the following Tuesday.
“How will you celebrate?” she asked.
“Same as usual. Buy myself a German chocolate cake and pig out. Maybe swim some laps and see a movie.” They’d reached Emma’s. “Thank you for showing me the mountain, Jayne. It was fun.”
“It was my pleasure. And thank you for the dinner. And the job. You were a pretty good first client.”
“Liar.” He laughed at her blush. “I hope it’s only the first time we celebrate completion of your landscaping. I’ll certainly spread the word.”
“Thanks.” She didn’t know what else to say, so to cover the awkward moment, Jayne drew out her keys and slid them into the lock. “Well, good—”
Ben kissed her.
And when her knees started wobbling and her stomach danced cartwheels and her brain screamed for more, he lifted his head, pressed a second kiss against her forehead and eased her into Emma’s condo.
“Good night, Jayne,” he whispered before he closed the door.
Chapter Eight
The following day Ben dived into a new chapter of David Bentley’s latest work and was well and truly buried in the story when the doorbell broke his concentration.
Muttering dire threats, he yanked open the door and blinked.
“Emma! Is anything wrong?”
“Lots of things.” She stepped inside and closed the door. “You and I need to have a chat, young man.”
“Okay.” What was this about? “Would like a cup of coffee—tea?” he substituted, remembering she was supposed to limit caffeine. “Herbal.”
“Fine.” She walked beside him to the kitchen and sat down at the granite breakfast bar. “This is a nice house. I suppose David Bentley can afford it.”
Ben froze for a second. He finished filling the kettle and set it to boil. He took out two cups and the tea. Then there was nothing to do but face Jayne’s grandmother.
“Does Jayne know?”
“No. And I can’t help wondering why that is. Why haven’t you told her the truth about yourself, Ben, or David, or whoever you are?”
“Allan Benjamin Cummings is my legal name. David Bentley is a pseudonym I created.”
“Was that so hard?” Emma demanded. She slid off her stool and went to turn off the boiling kettle. She poured water in the cups, added tea bags to both then handed him one. “Why haven’t you said that to Jayne?”
“Emma, I’ve spent years keeping my identity as David Bentley a secret. You have no idea how intrusive it can be.” He motioned her to a seat. “I had a good reason. It gave me some privacy and it didn’t hurt anyone. So when I met Jayne…” Ben shrugged. “But I will tell her.”
“You had better do it soon.” There was a note of worry underlying Emma’s words.
“What’s the rush? It’s no big deal. It’s just a name I write under. I am sti
ll Ben Cummings.”
“It’s a very big deal. To Jayne.” Emma sighed. “Did she ever tell you about her high school days?”
“Some. She had a rough time of it, I gather.”
“She was miserable. I tried my best, but there were two girls at school who reveled in hurting her, putting her down. They made her recovery and her life in that school as difficult as possible.” Emma’s lips pursed but she continued. “I kept telling Jayne to pray for them, to let God handle them, not to let her spirit get beaten by them.”
“Not bad advice.”
“I should have spanked them.”
He smothered a smile. “What happened?”
“Two months before school ended, these two girls apologized to Jayne. They asked her to be part of their group. They took her to their parties. They even helped her find her graduation dress. They invited her to their homes. In short they became her best friends and she trusted them.”
Emma paused. Ben said nothing, content to let her tell the story her own way.
“Jayne had this problem with balance. It was infinitely worse when her knee clicked out. She was waiting until graduation was over to have her last surgery.” Emma stared at him, tears welling in her beautiful eyes. “Graduation was a big deal in this school, long fancy gowns and a formal ceremony in which the graduates walked up a set of stairs onto a stage to accept their diplomas. Then they came down the stairs in a parade of graduates. Jayne was sure she could trust them so she confided in her friends about her knee. They offered to help her master going up and down the stairs.”
Emma stopped. The silence grew loud and ominous.
“What happened?” Ben had a terrible sinking feeling.
“As Jayne was coming down the stairs that night, one of them stepped on the hem of her dress. She lost her balance, her knee buckled and she fell. The girls had planned it all. They’d doctored her dress so the seam was weak. The bottom of her skirt tore away.” Tears flowed down Emma’s cheeks. “They’d told everyone they were going to do it. They all stood there and laughed at her. Not one of those kids helped Jayne.”
