by Lois Richer
“Thank you.” Jayne breathed deeply as the fizzy feeling sent an effervescent wash along her nerves. Red roses meant love.
“My pleasure.” Sidney laughed. “Everything’s fine at the shop. You rest and get better so you can come back to work soon.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
At five-thirty someone from a catering company arrived and set up a table. Jayne heard the clink of dishes, crystal and silver. She was imagining what it looked like when Cass arrived.
“Wow! Celebrating already.” She hugged Jayne and handed her a small box. Inside was a metal sculpture.
“A lion?” Jayne guessed, feeling the cool surface.
“Because you have the heart of a lion,” Cass said. They’d discovered they shared the same faith when Cass delivered Ben’s sculptures and Cass had been full of questions about him ever since. “Here’s Ben.”
“Hello,” Jayne heard him say. But there was a tight reserve in his voice that did not sound welcoming.
“Hi, yourself. How’s the book coming?”
Book? Jayne frowned.
“Fine.”
She wanted to ask questions but Cass beat her to it.
“There’s quite a furor about you in Los Angeles, Ben. Wouldn’t it be better to announce your identity as David Bentley, rather than allow some exposé about your pseudonym?”
In that instant, the pieces fell into place. Ben was David Bentley. The books in his office, the secretive way he’d talked about his business, the people who kept recognizing him—it all made sense.
“Well, it looks like you two have planned a fancy dinner. I’ll leave. Take care,” Cass said, hugging Jayne.
“You, too. Thanks for the lion.” Heart of a lion? More like the brain of a donkey. How could she not have known?
The door clicked closed.
“Jayne—”
“You lied to me. Over and over, you lied to me.” She gulped down the tears and let anger take over. “I should never have trusted you.”
“Jayne, listen. I love you. I was going to tell you everything tonight. That’s why I arranged—”
“Love me?” She laughed as scornfully as her bleeding heart would allow. “You don’t deceive people you love, Ben. Or David. Whoever you are.”
“I didn’t deceive you. I am Ben Cummings. Always have been.” He tried to take her hand but she yanked it away. “I’ve wanted to tell you so many times.”
“I trusted you.” She was glad she couldn’t look at him, glad the bandages wouldn’t let the tears out.
“And you still can. I haven’t done anything wrong. I am Ben Cummings. David Bentley is just a name I use on my books. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“It means everything.” She was so stupid, so gullible. How could she have let herself be betrayed again? “You’ve been pretending. All the time we’ve spent together, you’ve been acting a part because you couldn’t or wouldn’t trust me with the truth. Why?”
“I’ve learned not to tell people about David Bentley,” he said, a grim tone in his voice. “It’s safer that way.”
“Safer for whom? You? Because you won’t have to sign some autographs?” Jayne shook her head. “Not good enough. You said we were friends. You said friends help friends. Is this your idea of help? When would I have been trustworthy, Ben? When would you have told me the truth about who you really are?”
“Tonight. I had it all arranged to tell you tonight.”
“Sure,” she sneered. “Do you know how stupid I feel? All those people who kept stopping you. All the times you cut them off, pretended they had the wrong person. I did your yard. Do you think anyone is going to believe I didn’t know who you are? So now you’ve made me part of your lie.”
“I didn’t intend that. I only wanted time to get to know you, time to find out—”
“Whether I was worthy of being part of your world?” Jayne sagged, all her energy depleted by a gaping wound of hurt that no amount of surgery could fix. “Did Emma know?” she asked as understanding dawned.
“She guessed.”
“Go away, Ben. Leave and don’t come back.”
“You don’t mean that. You can’t,” he pleaded, his hand grabbing hers. “I love you, Jayne.”
“You don’t know what love means. You want to work it and shape it to meet your needs. You use people. You used me. That’s what I can’t forgive, Ben.” She pulled back. “Please leave.”
“I do love you, Jayne.” He let her go, stepped back. His voice sounded anguished. “You’ll never know how long and how hard I prayed that you would be the woman I searched for.”
“But you didn’t have any faith in me. You preached to me about trusting God, but you didn’t trust God or me. You kept up your deception until it suited your purposes. That’s what I can’t forgive.” She sighed. “I should have expected it, I suppose. It’s not the first time I’ve been deceived.” But this hurt far more than high school.
“Jayne—”
“Just go. I don’t want to hear any more stories. Leave me alone.” She leaned back against her pillows and turned her head aside.
“I have been totally truthful about one thing, Jayne. I do love you.”
She kept her face averted until she heard the door close behind him.
Only then did she let the tears flow, uncaring when they seeped between the bandages and streamed down her cheeks.
Why, God? I trusted You. I believed You had my best interests in mind. How is this best?
The faith she’d worked so hard to build was now caught in an internal struggle that had never really gone away.
She was the outsider. She didn’t fit in.
Never had.
Never would.
Chapter Ten
Groveling was something Ben Cummings had never done. But he was more than willing to do it now if it helped Jayne forgive him. Five days without talking to her was driving him nuts. She wouldn’t take his calls, but she couldn’t run out of the store.
Could she?
After pacing outside Rose’s Roses for five minutes, he took a deep breath and pushed open the door. Jayne lifted her head, free of bandages and the cumbersome glasses. She surveyed him with those magnificent stormy aqua eyes, and left the sales floor.
He felt a rush of relief. She must have regained her sight.
“Hi, Ben.” Emma sat behind the worktable. She stopped adding sprays of flowers to the huge vase in front of her and offered him a tentative smile. “How are you?”
“Fine, Emma. Thanks.” He got the message her eyes telegraphed. I told you so.
“What can I help you with?”
“The Easter decorating. It’s only four days away.” That wasn’t the reason he’d come in, but he’d use it if it would get Jayne to talk to him. “We’ve changed things a bit and since Jayne missed our last meeting—”
“We are not changing anything for our part in the Easter display.” Jayne marched out from the back, her eyes the color of a tempest in the tropics. “We’re busy. We can’t be altering our arrangements just because you’ve decided to change something. This is our livelihood, not a game.”
“I realize that. I only wanted to tell you that the pastor insists we add something to Cass’s cross that sits in the background.” He let his gaze feast on her lovely face. “I know we’d decided no potted lilies for the display because they weren’t historically correct, but the latest decision is to order two.”
“Fine.” She grabbed an order form, scrawled “two lilies” across it and smashed it on the metal spoke that held a pile of other orders. “Anything else?”
“Jayne,” he murmured, for her ears alone, “I really am sorry. I never meant—”
“Yes, you did. Or you would have spoken the truth the first time someone stopped you.” She glared at him. “All those people who stopped you must have thought I knew you were David Bentley. I feel so stupid. And embarrassed.”
“I know, but—”
“You didn’t have enough faith in me, Ben. Not in me and not in
God. You who were always telling me to trust, to believe God could handle anything.” She shifted off her bad leg. “Why didn’t you take your own advice?”
“I should have.”
“Yes. Instead, once more I’m the outsider, the one who was never let in on the joke, the butt of everyone’s laughter.”
“No one’s laughing, Jayne.” Certainly not him.
“You’re living like a coward, Ben. Which makes me wonder—what are you so afraid of?” She shook her head angrily. “I don’t care. Just go. Leave us alone. We’ll do the flowers on Easter. But after that, I don’t want to see you again.”
“Jayne, please. Let me explain.”
“You’re too late.” She turned and walked away.
Ben stood there for several minutes, hoping, praying, she’d change her mind. But she didn’t. And there was nothing more he could say.
He waved to Emma and walked out the door. Jayne was furious at him. He didn’t blame her. But now he began to wonder if her fury would extend to telling the media about him.
Suddenly his phone rang.
“I found the culprit, Ben.” Jerry sounded angry. “I’ve stopped what I could, but I can’t guarantee you’re in the clear. Maybe you should think about moving again.”
Ben closed his phone, sat on a park bench and did just that—he thought. Was that what he wanted, to move again, to be continually looking behind his back, wondering? Was the price of anonymity really worth what it was costing him? Was it worth losing Jayne, the woman God had sent into his life? The woman he loved?
What are you afraid of?
He wasn’t afraid. Was he?
But that’s exactly what he was. It was the reason he’d misjudged Jayne a few moments ago. He knew her, knew she didn’t care about status or money. He’d seen that over and over in the way she dealt with her clients, in her dedication to her landscaping, in the intricate details she added to every order. Jayne cared about people. She cared that her grandmother had a place to feel needed; she cared so much she was willing to adjust her own plans.
Jayne was hurting and angry, but she wasn’t vindictive. She wasn’t going to run to the press with what she knew. He could trust her. He should have trusted her. She was right. He hadn’t trusted God, either. Well, that was over.
Ben prayed for forgiveness and wisdom then dialed his phone.
“Jerry, I want you to arrange a party here at the convention center for Saturday night.”
“A party for what?”
“To reveal the identity of David Bentley.”
His lawyer and friend gave a whoop of joy before he hung up.
Ben walked to his car. He’d tell whoever wanted to know that he was David Bentley and deal with the consequences. But Ben was also going to tell the world that he loved Jayne Rose.
Saturday’s flurry of business didn’t stop until well after six. Jayne forced herself through the day, wondering how she would deal with seeing Ben tomorrow, Easter morning.
“You’ve been moping around too long. You need to see these.” Emma dropped a file of photocopied newspaper clippings on her desk. “Sidney and I got them from the library. Maybe they’ll help you understand his reasons. Read them. Sidney’s taking me home.”
When the front door lock clicked, Jayne reached for the folder and surveyed the first page. She read about a young Benjamin Cummings who had been left a fortune, but lost his father. She read of his five-day long abduction and the huge ransom that had been grudgingly paid by his guardian. She read of the money said guardian had embezzled and the very public court case that followed. She saw pictures of young bewildered Ben being jostled by reporters who tracked him down no matter where he went. There were later pictures of him with a young woman and a host of prying, personal stories about Ben’s net worth. There were also articles on the woman’s claim that Ben loved money more than her because he wouldn’t give her money.
Then a lag in time and the clippings focused on David Bentley’s first bestseller. There were numerous pieces about the fans, kind and crazy, who began stalking him. There were photos of an injured Ben after being attacked by a woman on the street, a report of a breakin at his home and several other incidents. Then the articles died off. David Bentley had gone underground. The books, wonderful, endearing funny suspense novels that enchanted readers from teens to seniors, kept coming, but David Bentley became an enigma.
At the very bottom of the file, Jayne found an announcement that David Bentley would meet the public tonight.
Ben was going to tell the world who he was.
Jayne absorbed the impact of that. Then she leaned back in her chair to think. She now knew why Ben hadn’t told her who he was. She imagined a child of ten being hidden for five long days only to learn that the one person he could trust had betrayed him. She understood his craving for privacy, his need to be in control, his reason for keeping his secret. But she also realized it didn’t matter.
The truth was plain and simple. Jayne loved Ben. It didn’t matter if he wrote books as someone else. Nothing mattered but the fact that she’d trusted God and He’d sent her a man who filled her dreams, a man who forced her to think about her decisions and make a change, a man who helped her reach for her dreams and accomplish them. A man who encouraged her to keep dreaming bigger and better things while trusting God to help her accomplish them.
Ben taught her that God is a God of can do, not afraid to do. He helped her see that she had to face her fears in order to be able to reach for her dreams. He’d helped her understand that living with failure is easier than never reaching for what you want.
Was she prepared to give up a man like that because she was afraid to trust him again?
No! The word exploded from her heart.
Jayne jumped to her feet, grabbed her purse and keys. Forgiveness was a two-way street. She’d been wrong not to listen to his explanation. With God’s help she would not let fear cost her the man who owned her heart.
With barely half an hour before the event started, Jayne had to get to the convention center. Unfortunately, the big clunky van wouldn’t start. She hailed a taxi and sat back, praying as hard as she ever had. She called Emma and asked her to pray, too.
On arriving at the center, Jayne hurried in under the big sweeping roof, pushed her way through the glass doors and stopped. Where would Ben be?
Lord?
An acquaintance who often helped cater events at the center stood beside a sign indicating Ben’s event would take place in the ballroom. Jayne explained her mission. Together they created a diversion to lure away security while Jayne pushed her way into Ben’s room.
“I’m sorry, you can’t come in here—Jayne?” Ben waved away the guard who had hold of her arm, closed the door. “What are you doing here?”
“We need to talk.”
“I’ve wanted to do that for days,” he said, his voice low. “I want to apologize. I should have told you the truth. I know that now.”
“Yes, you should have,” she said quietly. “But you didn’t. Emma showed me some old clippings. I think I understand why.”
“You do?” Relief mingled with confusion. “Then?”
“I understand you were wary about me, Ben. You’ve had some pretty awful experiences. So have I. But the thing is, I love you.” There, she’d said it. Jayne held out a hand as Ben moved forward. “Wait. I have to say this.”
“I’m listening.” He sat on a chair, his gaze riveted on her. “Go ahead.”
“For so long I’ve been the outsider. It didn’t seem to matter what I did, I couldn’t fit in. I was always the oddball. And by not telling me, you made me feel even more that way.” She swallowed. “You said you loved me.”
“I do.”
“Then if you love me, you can’t treat me like an outsider anymore. I don’t care about your money, Ben. Money comes and goes. But love doesn’t. It’s not your money I want. It’s your love.”
“You’ve got it.” He rose and began slowly walking toward her.
<
br /> “You came and you filled my heart. You were my gift from God. I refuse to let that gift go to waste,” she said.
“Good.” Ben slid his arms around her waist and studied her face. “Because you are my gift, too. I’ve prayed for years for God to send me a special woman who I could spend the rest of my life with, one who would love me and not the money. You are that woman.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. The money’s an albatross, Jayne. It causes distrust. It gets in the way. It interfered with my trust in God, and in my love for you.”
“The money doesn’t matter, Ben,” she assured him. “Except that I have nothing to give you to make you believe that. I could sign a prenuptial if that would help you believe me, or sign some statement that I don’t want anything from you. That’s the only way I have to prove that I love you, not your money or things.”
“Dearest Jayne.” He lifted her arms and draped them around his neck. Then he slid his hands around her waist and drew her close, close enough to touch his lips to her earlobe, her cheek, her nose, her forehead. “I don’t need an affidavit, or a prenuptial, or anything else. I want you to share my life. All of it. We’ll use the money to honor God.”
“I like that,” she said shyly. “I love you, Ben.”
“I love you, Jayne.”
They sealed their love with a kiss.
“I finally understand why you chose the pseudonym David.”
“King David. The man God loved. The man who, for all his faults, loved God with his whole heart. ‘My protection and success come from God alone,’” Ben recited.
“That’s in the front of all your books.” She smiled as she let her fingertip graze his beloved cheek. “That’s why they’re so successful. That and your talent.”
“Thank you.” He kissed her cheek. “I don’t keep the money from the books, Jayne. It goes to Restart. I should have told you that, too.”
“Then you gave me the loan?” she asked, frowning. “Because you felt sorry for me.”
“No way, lady. I do not feel sorry for you. There is nothing to feel sorry about. You are the strongest woman I’ve ever known. You’re brave and loving and honest and determined. All the things I most admire.”
