"Ben? Is that you?"
Ben turned his head sharply, too sharply. He had to brace his hand against the wall to keep his balance. The features of the man in front of him swam before his eyes. Oh, God, not him.
"Hello, Ben." Tony Benedetti, one of the artists on display at Ben's gallery, stared at him through somber brown eyes, disappointed eyes, disapproving eyes.
Why did he always seem to bring out those emotions in people? Ben wondered.
"I thought I'd hear from you," Tony said. "The last time we were--"
"I've been busy." The words came out in a slur, and Ben cleared his throat. "I might have a buyer for one of your paintings, the Mendocino seascape. I'll let you know. I better go. I'm meeting someone."
Tony put a hand on his shoulder. "You're wasted, man."
"I've had a few beers. I'm fine."
"You're not driving, are you?"
"I'm fine," Ben repeated.
"You can't drive in this condition. Give me your keys."
"I'm meeting someone." Had he already said that? Ben couldn't remember. He just wanted Tony to go, before he said or did something that he shouldn't do. "I'm getting married." The words came out before he could stop them.
Tony stared at him for the longest time. "Congratulations."
"Thanks." Ben pushed off the wall. "Gotta go. I'll see ya."
Tony grabbed his arm. "Once you start running, you can never stop."
"Ben, there you are," Faith said, waving at him from the end of the hall.
He shrugged Tony's hand off of his arm. Thank God, Faith had come. He'd be all right now. Faith walked down the hall and gave him a hug. She wrinkled her nose when she looked at him.
"Good heavens, Ben. You smell like a brewery." She looked over at Tony. "Hello. Are you a friend of Ben's?"
Tony nodded. "A good friend."
"Really? I'm Faith Christopher."
"Tony Benedetti."
Faith extended her hand. "It's nice to meet you. Are you here alone? Maybe you'd like to join Ben and me for a drink, or...?"
"No," Ben burst out. "He has to go. Don't you have to go, Tony?"
"I do." Tony turned to Faith. "Don't let him drive home."
"I -- uh, okay." Faith gave Ben a closer look. "Ben, are you drunk?"
"I had a few beers while I was waiting for you. You're late."
"I'm sorry. I've never seen you look so..." She couldn't think of words that wouldn't sound insulting or surprised. But Ben did not look like Ben. His shirt was coming out of his pants. His tie was askew. His face was flushed and his eyes glittered with an emotion she didn't recognize. Was he angry with her? Or just drunk?
"What do I look like, Faith? Like a man who has run out of patience, maybe?"
"Ben, you're shouting."
Faith looked over her shoulder, relieved to see they were alone in the corridor, at least for the moment.
"So that's why you won't marry me? I'm too loud. Funny, I always thought Gary was the loud one, the strong one, the best one." His anger deflated like an empty balloon. "Oh, hell, what's the use? I can't be Gary."
"No one wants you to be Gary."
He smiled bitterly. "Everyone wants me to be Gary."
"I don't."
"Yes, you do. Because if I were more like Gary, you would have already agreed to marry me. Instead, you're wondering if you can settle for second best, for the second son. I always come in second."
"Ben, I think you should go home."
"Yeah, why not?" He reached into his pocket for his keys.
Faith grabbed them out of his hand before he could react. "I'll drive you."
"I'm not that drunk."
"Yes you are. And no matter what you think, Ben, I am your friend."
His eyes met hers. "I want you to be more than my friend. I want you to be my wife."
"We'll talk about it later, okay?"
"I'll be a good husband, Faith. You won't be sorry."
Faith slipped her hand under his arm. "Let's go home."
He didn't move. His face took on a bleak look. "Home? Where the hell is that?"
"I know where you live."
"I'm not talking about where I live. I'm talking about who I am."
"Okay, well, let's start with your apartment building. We'll figure out the rest later."
* * *
Ben didn't say much in the car. Instead, he seemed dazed. Faith helped him up the stairs to his apartment and unlocked his door. She followed him inside, turning on the lights as he stumbled toward the bathroom with a sudden groan. A few seconds later, she heard the distinct sounds of someone who'd had far too much to drink.
She stood restlessly in the hall for a few moments, not sure what to do. She could hardly leave him like this. What if he was truly sick? What if he needed help getting into bed? Finally she took off her sweater and set down her purse. She waited for Ben to come out of the bathroom, then helped him into his bedroom.
He fell spread-eagle on the bed, passing out before his body hit the mattress. She took off his shoes and his tie, then loosened his belt and pulled the comforter over his body.
"Faith," he muttered, blinking open one eye. "Don't you love me?"
She smiled. "Of course I love you, Ben. You're my best friend."
"Hate that word -- friend. Want a lover."
"Shh, go to sleep."
Ben closed his eyes and she walked to the door. She paused there for a moment, knowing that in the morning they would have to talk, really talk. She didn't want to hurt Ben, but obviously the stress of her indecision had put him over the edge. She had to give him an answer. In the morning, she promised, then turned off the light and headed to the living room. She'd sleep on the couch, just in case he needed her. It was the least she could do.
* * *
Faith fought the dream that took her back in time, to the dark caves and the stunning canyons, the blue sky, the lone cry of an eagle, the vast emptiness of the desert.
She saw the butterflies dancing, the rocks at the top of the cliff that called to her each day. She wondered what lay on the other side of the walls that surrounded her.
But she couldn't escape from this canyon, or the paint being applied to her face. There were women everywhere, with dark eyes and rough, thick hair. No one smiled as they helped her dress, as they smeared colors on her face and braided her hair. And suddenly she knew what they were doing. They were preparing her for the wedding.
She wanted to cry out that her name was Faith, that she didn't live with them, that she wanted no part of the marriage they had planned, but she couldn't speak. It was like watching herself in the mirror, but she was unable to touch her own reflection.
The young women suddenly disappeared as silently as they'd come. Faith turned around and saw the old woman, her shoulders stooped, her hair white, her eyes angry. She grabbed Faith by the hand and pulled her out of the cave. She saw someone waiting for her. It was not the warrior, but the other man, the one she would marry.
The old woman placed Faith's hand in his. Faith felt her skin crawl and terror take over her soul. No. No. No. The anguished cries filled her heart.
He took her toward the circle of fire and drums.
Then in the darkness, in the shadows, she saw the warrior. He held out his hand to her. She looked from the man beside her, to the old woman waiting in front of her, to the circle of dancers who had always protected her -- then back to the warrior.
His eyes commanded her to choose -- the light or the darkness -- her duty or her destiny.
Then he held up the pot, and she knew what she had to do...
Faith awoke in a sweat, her heart pounding, her pulse racing, bells ringing, the sun shining in her eyes, confusion clogging her brain at the unfamiliar surroundings. Finally she caught her breath and looked around. She knew this place. It was Ben's place, and the stiffness in her neck and shoulders reminded her that she'd spent the night on Ben's couch.
Just a dream, she told herself, just a silly dream.
/> She sat up and straightened her clothes, suddenly aware that the ringing continued. It was the doorbell. Since Ben seemed to be asleep, Faith got up to open the door, expecting to see a friend of Ben's, maybe Isabelle from the art gallery or Ben's neighbor, John, who always seemed to drop in unexpectedly. But when she opened the door, she found herself staring at Nancy.
"Ben--" Nancy's mouth fell open in surprise. "Faith?"
Chuck's face appeared behind his wife. "Faith?"
"Uh, good morning." Faith suddenly saw herself through their eyes, a woman standing in their son's apartment with wrinkled clothes, mussed hair, and a guilty expression on her face.
Nancy flung her arms around Faith. "Oh, I'm so happy. You said yes. I knew it."
"Welcome to the family, daughter," Chuck said gruffly.
"Uh, uh..." Faith stuttered, trying to say something, but what? "It's not what you think."
"Oh, Faith, we're not that old-fashioned. We expected you and Ben to be sleeping together," Nancy said, as she walked past Faith into the apartment.
"We're not sleeping together."
"Now, don't get all embarrassed." Chuck set a crate of oranges on Ben's kitchen table. "We were young once, weren't we, honey?" He put his arm around Nancy and smiled down at her.
Oh, Lord. What now?
"Mom? Dad?" Ben stumbled into the room in his boxers and a T-shirt. Somehow in the night, he'd obviously awoken long enough to take off his pants.
"Congratulations, son." Chuck slapped Ben on the back.
Ben stared at Faith in bewilderment, as if he wasn't sure what she was doing there. She waited for him to explain what had happened, but Ben suddenly smiled, and said, "I thought I dreamed about you last night, but you're still here. It was real. You've made me so happy."
Oh, no, he didn't remember what had happened. "Ben--"
"You won't be sorry, Faith. I'll make you the happiest woman alive." He grabbed her by the shoulders and planted a long kiss on her lips.
"Oh, this is too much for me," Nancy said, tears welling up in her eyes. "I may have lost a son, but I've gained a beautiful daughter. You will call me Mom, won't you, Faith?"
"And call me Dad," Chuck said.
"You can call me anything you want," Ben said with a grin. "As long as I can call you wife."
"Ben."
"What?"
She had to say no. She had to tell them it was all a mistake, a terrible mistake. She hadn't just made love to their son -- even if it looked like it. And she wasn't just teasing him along -- even though it looked like it. And she wasn't the most ungrateful woman on the face of the earth -- even though it looked like it.
Three pairs of eyes focused on her face, demanding loyalty, love, and commitment. They were waiting. She had to say something.
"Ben?"
"Yes, darling?"
"I think you better put on your pants."
Chapter Sixteen
While Ben put on his pants, Faith put on a pot of coffee. While it was perking she called the bakery. To her relief, her assistant, Leslie, was hard at work and would handle things until Faith could get there.
When Faith got off the phone, Nancy told her that unfortunately she and Chuck could not stay for coffee. Chuck had a doctor's appointment and Nancy wanted to go with him to make sure he understood the dietary restrictions they were putting him under to lower his cholesterol. Faith didn't much care where they were going as long as they went soon. She needed to talk to Ben alone, before the situation got even more out of hand.
When Ben reappeared, his hair wet from a recent shower, she handed him a cup of coffee and watched him take a grateful drink. Judging by his pale face, she doubted he was feeling particularly fine this morning, not after all he'd had to drink.
"Thanks. I guess I had too much beer last night."
"A bit. Don't you remember what happened?"
"Only the part where you agreed to be my wife."
"Ben, that didn't happen," she told him, trying to be as gentle as she could be.
"You're denying it -- after everything you said last night? Are you deliberately trying to hurt me?"
"Ben, I didn't say anything last night. You were drunk. I brought you home."
Ben stared at her accusingly. "You undressed me."
"I loosened your belt."
"You took off my shirt."
"I undid the top two buttons."
"You slept with me."
"I slept on your couch."
Ben set his coffee cup down on the counter and reached for a bottle of aspirin. He washed the two tablets down with a swig of coffee. "You just told my parents we were getting married," he said, his eyes pained. "They're very happy."
"They jumped to conclusions, Ben. You know they did."
Ben stared at her for a long moment. "You always told me how much you wanted a family, how you longed for children to hold in your arms, how you worried that you'd never find that kind of happiness. I'm offering you exactly what you want. Why won't you take it? What am I doing wrong?"
"Nothing." She shook her head, wishing she could make him understand. "Actually, you're doing everything wrong."
"Well, that narrows it down."
"You're my friend. I can't seem to get past that to something else. I'm sorry." She put a hand on his arm. "I wish I could feel what I want to feel."
"Which is what, exactly?"
She shrugged, feeling self-conscious as she tried to explain. "I want to feel my stomach take that tumble when I see you. I want to feel a tingle every time I hear your voice. I want to be swept away."
"And you don't feel those things with me?"
"Do you feel them with me, Ben?"
"Yes. Absolutely."
"Then I'm sorry, because I don't mean to hurt you."
Ben slid his arms around her waist so gently she couldn't pull away without insulting him, so she stayed. "Love can grow, Faith. It's like a garden. You plant the seeds in the dirt and for a while it looks like nothing, but after a few storms and a few good sunny days, you find a blossoming plant, thriving where there once was nothing."
"That's beautiful, Ben." And it was beautiful. Why oh why couldn't she feel passion for this romantic, caring, sensitive guy?
He kissed her softly on the lips. "Why not see if we can get something to grow between us?"
"I'm sorry, Ben. But as one of my foster moms used to say, sometimes you can't grow corn in a wheat field."
Ben's arms fell to his sides and his expression turned bleak. "I can't change your mind?"
She shook her head, wondering why there was so much desperation in his voice. "I'm sorry. But I think we're better off friends."
"Friends, right. Great. Wonderful. That should make everyone happy."
"I better go. I should have been at work two hours ago." Faith picked up her purse and sweater and headed for the door.
"Faith, don't tell my mother yet."
"Ben, she wants to plan the wedding."
"I need time to figure out what to tell them. They're going to be disappointed."
"I know. All right. But we can't let this go on too much longer. It will only make it worse."
"Just promise me, Faith. You won't say anything to my mother."
"I promise."
* * *
A couple of hours later, Faith wished she had never made that promise. Nancy arrived at the bakery shortly after one o'clock with her arms full of wedding magazines, lace samples, and a calendar. Pleading busy, Faith managed to avoid any lengthy discussion, but only because she agreed to look through the magazines later that night.
Satisfied with that, Nancy tended customers, and Faith pummeled dough in the kitchen, taking out her frustration on another five hundred bunny cookies, not to mention several bunny cakes and a giant torte in the shape of an Easter egg.
Just after four o'clock, Nancy stepped into the kitchen, her good mood apparently gone. "There's someone on the phone for you, Faith. Alex Carrigan."
Nancy said his name as i
f there were dirt stuck between her teeth.
"Thank you." Faith reached for the phone on the wall.
Nancy frowned and disappeared through the door.
"Hello," Faith said. "I've got it, Nancy." She waited for the click, ensuring their privacy. "Alex?"
"Hello, Faith. Did you miss me?"
Faith's stomach tumbled as shivers ran down her spine. She closed her eyes and leaned against the wall. He was the wrong man at the wrong time. But she wanted him so much, she could hardly stand it.
"I'll take that as a yes," Alex said, when Faith didn't answer. "You are still there, aren't you?"
"Yes." She had to pull herself together. She had to stop losing her breath every time she heard his voice, saw his smile. "I was just getting something out of the oven," she added belatedly. "What did you say?"
"It wasn't important. I'm calling because Grandfather has some news."
"He does? That's wonderful. What is it?"
"He wants to tell you himself. Tonight."
"Tonight?"
"Can you come over for dinner?"
"Well... uh. Sure, I guess so."
"That's what I like, an enthusiastic yes. Why do I feel like I'm twisting your arm behind your back?"
"You're not. I'm just busy this week. But dinner sounds nice. Shall I bring something?"
"Just yourself. I'll pick you up around six."
"I can drive myself."
"I know you can, but I'd like to talk to you alone for a few minutes."
Her stomach tumbled once more. "All right. It's out of the way, though. I live in Noe Valley."
"That's fine."
"I'm at 3312 Domingo Street, Apartment 5B. I'm on the third floor, and the elevator is broken."
"I'll wear my stair-climbing shoes."
Faith smiled. "I'm sure you have some, too. How did it go, Alex? Your trip?"
"It went great. Elijah James signed on the dotted line. You know what impressed him?"
"You mean besides the shoes?"
"Yes."
"Your charm, your wit..."
"You think I'm charming and witty?"
"I think you're digging for compliments, but if you don't want to tell me what Elijah liked about you, you don't have to."
The Sweetest Thing Page 18
