*~*~*
When Ben arrived at the hospital, he found Tessa in a waiting room on the floor above the accident and emergency unit. She communicated in hushed tones with an older blonde woman, who Ben recognized as Kristof's mother, June.
Tessa acknowledged Ben's arrival with a curt nod then returned to her conversation. Ben took a seat and waited, legs crossed and his hands twisting in his lap. He wasn't entirely sure why he'd come, or whether he was even wanted, but he had to know Kristof was going to be okay. Though his anger with Lyle had died down, his head ached and his stomach churned.
At length, a doctor emerged to speak to Kristof's mother, and Tessa strutted over to Ben.
"This is awful." Tessa shook her head. "He could've easily been killed."
"I know," murmured Ben. He felt sick. "I'm so sorry."
"It's not your fault, Ben, but we're all going to have a lot of work to do with Kristof off for who-knows-how-long." She sighed. "That's assuming the bird-hide plans are still good to go ahead, what with the structural damage to the tower. Probably not." She arched a brow, speculative. "Maybe I should give your Oakey Dell plans a shot after all."
Ben stared Tessa down with a mild incredulity, and then found he was unsurprised; it was typical of his hard-nosed boss to shoot straight back to thinking about work. "If you like," he said.
"Great. If you could have a summary report on my desk first thing tomorrow, that would be much appreciated." She tapped her chin, brow furrowed with thought. "Though the day after will be fine, dear. I expect you've had quite a shock too. Have an early night and I'll see you first thing."
She headed off, stiletto heels clacking down the hospital corridor. Ben slumped back into his seat. Nobody wanted him here, so he figured he might as well follow Tessa, and would've done so, had not June finished her conversation with the doctor.
She looked around and spotting only Ben, made her way over. Ben jumped to greet her. Her eyes were red and puffy, but her expression spoke of relief.
"Oh Ben, I'm glad somebody's still around. It's such good news. The surgeons have finished setting Kristof's legs and it's nothing worse than a basic fracture in each. As long as there are no further complications, he should be right as rain in a month or so."
Ben gladly returned her tight hug. "Thank goodness," he murmured, happy he'd been there for her. For a long while, he just held her, until feeling slightly awkward, he asked, "Um, can I get you a cup of tea?"
The tea from the hospital canteen was watery and scorching hot, with only a smidgeon of cold milk to dilute it. Ben insisted on paying and carried the cups over to a table by the window, where they both settled.
June blew across the hot tea before taking a sip. "I need to ask you something," she said. "Before he went into surgery, Kristof kept on saying something to me about… oh, I don't know. He kept on going on about a hero. Somebody who tried to push him out of the way, who he didn't even know had been there. Do you know anything about that?"
Lyle? It had to be. Mind reeling, Ben slurped his scalding tea.
"Ow!" He placed his tea down, slopping it, then smacked his lips. "Excuse me. Um, no, I'm sorry, I don't know anything."
Yes, I do.
"The poor love wasn't making much sense," said June, "but he swore blind the branch would've hit him on the head and struck him dead if this mystery hero hadn't been there. Maybe he imagined it after the fact, though. He didn't seem quite lucid. Oh dear."
"Oh dear," echoed Ben, the purport of her words still seeping in. Lyle had tried to save Kristof. Even if the situation had been Lyle's fault, albeit unintentionally, that response was so… Lyle.
Lyle was a mischief maker, a needy lover, a drama llama, and… a man of action, who on several occasions had quietly done what he believed to be right to save people he didn't even know, and asked for no praise or reward.
"Ben, are you alright? You've gone horribly white."
"Uh, I'm fine." Ben blinked hard and mustered a smile. "How's your tea?"
"Fine, thanks. But you really should get home and get some rest. My husband will be here soon. His flight from Warsaw got in twenty minutes ago."
After plentiful reassurances from June that she'd be alright and she'd call if she'd any news, Ben left the hospital. As he drove home, crawling through the evening traffic on autopilot, he turned over the same thoughts in his head, again and again, until they finally made sense.
A mischief maker, a needy lover, a drama llama, a modest man of action.
Halted at a traffic light, Ben thudded his head forward against the steering wheel.
How had he lost sight that he loved Lyle for being all of those things? Lyle had made Ben happier than he'd ever been before. Ben had wanted to be Lyle's hero, dreamed about saving him. Yet when the shit hit the fan, Ben had drifted on hoping for the best, as he'd done so often in life, and fallen short. He'd belittled Lyle's fears about being deserted, dealt badly with Lyle's flights of temper, then left Lyle fighting for his home and his life. Hell, Ben had been terrified, more scared than Lyle, he realized. Not of commitment, as such, but of the colossal challenge of figuring out a future together. So when things got dangerous, Lyle had been forced to fix the situation the best he could alone.
This story had only one hero so far, only one being who had shown any grit and strength, time and time again. Lyle. The only soul Ben had ever truly loved, and he'd been too scared to admit even that lately.
A beep from the car behind startled him. He jerked his head up and the green light dazzled him. He yanked back the handbrake, shifted gears, and accelerated away.
He grinded his teeth furiously, driving fast into the night. Even if he'd never deserve Lyle enough to break the curse, it was time to do what he could.
No, scratch that. I can do better.
It was time to do whatever it took to help Lyle, regardless of the effort and cost, and then try the one thing they'd both forgotten they were good at—working together.
*~*~*
Ben slipped a completed summary report for the Oakey Dell project onto the pile of papers under Tessa's nose at 8:58 a.m. She'd been so absorbed in her emails that she hadn't noticed him come in. She looked up at him, as bleary-eyed as he felt.
"One Oakey Dell proposal," said Ben. "Everything you need is there—letters of support from the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds, The Woodland Trust and from the Oakey Dell Residents Association. The latter have pledged to hold a fete to raise funds for any shortfall in our budget. Not that there is a shortfall. We can deliver this project at a fraction of the cost that would've been needed for Warrencroft or Shanty Wood. In fact, there should be funds left over to resurface the carpark and install more litter bins in Shanty Wood, which as far as I can judge, are the only urgent things that need doing there."
It took several seconds for all this to sink in with Tessa. Then she smiled—a genuine, impressed smile that she might've favoured Kristof with a couple of times, but Ben never recalled being directed his way before. "You got all this together in one night? How?"
Ben smothered a yawn beneath the back of his hand. "Energy drinks and black coffee, mainly," he admitted. "I'd done the groundwork over the past month, so it really was just a case of writing it down and making sure the figures added up."
He'd also had the best motivation ever—helping Lyle. Ben still kicked himself that he'd not pushed Oakey Dell harder before, rather than falling back on his usual act of hoping for the best. Nevertheless, dwelling on his past failings helped nobody. Despite his busy night, Ben felt alert and awake, as if he'd finally woken up from a long dream. His purpose was clear.
"This is good work," Tessa said, scanning one of Ben's neat flowcharts.
"Thanks," said Ben, and then he summoned all his newfound resolution and courage. "Look, I need to take the rest of the day off. I've worked up plenty of hours in lieu and there's something incredibly important I have to do."
"Mmmm, that's fine." Tessa barely peeped up. "You deserve it, particular
ly after everything we went through yester…. Oh, I like this idea, Ben. You propose to build a covered treetop walkway from the first storey of the infant school out into the woods so the kids can have nature lessons in it? The newspapers are going to love that, which will make a change. They usually hate everything we do, though of course they might still think it's a monumental waste of taxpayers' money or…"
Ben didn't hear the rest. He raced back across the office and legged it down the main stairway of the building, two steps at a time.
He didn't stop running until he reached his car. It took great effort not to break the thirty mile-per-hour speed limit as he drove to the nearest jewellers. He pulled up outside the store, slotted a pound coin in the parking meter, and burst through the door with such urgency the bespectacled woman behind the counter looked alarmed.
"Can I help you, sir?" she asked brusquely, pushing her glasses up her nose.
"Most definitely," said Ben, striding toward the counter. "I want a ring. Something classy." The woman's icy glare melted into a delighted smile, which Ben matched. He'd a feeling he'd be her new best friend any second now. "You see, I'd like to blow my whole month's salary on it. Hell, no. Maybe two months? And I need the ring today."
Chapter Thirteen
"Lyle? Lyle!" Ben thrashed across the bracken between the tower and the pines. His worry pitched with every thump of his heart. The area, although now deserted, looked even more ruined than yesterday, the hazard tape dripping with dew, the earth a quagmire of wheelbarrow ruts, boot prints, broken branches, and rubble.
His plan to surprise Lyle with the engagement ring had seemed a good one, until now, as each worst-case scenario flashed through his brain. Maybe the police had found Lyle and dragged him away with fatal consequences? Or perhaps Lyle was really ill… or simply didn't want to see him.
Ben swallowed hard. It struck him that the conflict between them had only been resolved in his mind. Reality was a whole other matter.
"I'm sorry, Lyle!" Ben called out in every direction. "I'm sorry about how I acted yesterday, about breaking my promises, about being scared to face things, about everything. But I've made it right. The regeneration scheme is going to Oakey Dell, so once the aftermath of the accident is all cleared up, nobody will come back here, apart from me. If the curse can't be broken—" Ben prayed that Lyle, should he be listening, picked up his sharp emphasis on the word "if"—"we'll be left alone here. Either way, it's going to be alright."
No answer; just the usual twitter of the birds and the rustle of the breeze.
Ben's anxiety ratcheted up another notch. He shouldn't have left Lyle alone all night, brooding. What if Lyle had done something silly? He wasn't lurking in his usual spot beneath the pines, or near the tower, but he had to be here somewhere, unless…
No. Ben couldn't torture himself with more nightmares. He had to focus. Lyle couldn't be far away.
Ben fought his way into some thick undergrowth, swimming his arms ahead of him. Twigs scratched his hands and face and brambles bit his ankles. He scarcely registered.
"Lyle! Where are you? Lyle, please don't… Agh!" As he plunged into a clump of ferns, Ben's foot struck something and he nearly stumbled. He looked down, horror striking through him like a dagger. He'd kicked an ankle, which protruded from a being curled into an otherwise tight and alarmingly small ball, apparently asleep.
"Lyle," Ben breathed, and dropped to his knees, shoving the large, sheltering fern leaves out of the way. Lyle had his cloak wrapped about himself and over his head. Ben touched his shoulder, urging him to unravel and look up. "Wake up! Did you hear me before? I'm sorry. I really am. Please forgive me."
"I forgive you," murmured Lyle. "But it's too late." Slowly, he turned and pushed the hood from his face. Ben had been braced for Lyle to look peaky; he still struggled to contain a gasp. Lyle's complexion had gone beyond pale to a deathly grey pallor. His cheekbones seemed sharper, as if the skin had turned paper thin and tightened about his skull. "I'm sorry too," continued Lyle. "You were sensible, as ever, but I was so angry. I wanted the blood and the storm. I wanted to show you my fury… but it got out of hand, and reining it in hurt a lot. I'm going to d—"
"You're not going to die, and it's not too late." Ben pulled Lyle up so he cradled him in his arms with Lyle's head resting against his chest. "I'm going to stay here with you until you get better." He nodded hard, as if to convince them both. "You do get better, Lyle, remember? You just need rest."
Lyle gave a barely discernible shake of his head. "Not this time," he rasped. "I need… the sea. Only the sea can save me this time."
"That's okay then." Ben brushed a streak of hair from where it stuck to Lyle's sweat-beaded forehead, noting with quiet alarm that Lyle's beautiful claret-red streaks had turned grey overnight. Ben conceded Lyle had never looked this poorly before, nor so lost and bewildered. He gritted his jaw, resolute, and nodded again. Being sensible, he'd learned, wasn't always enough, but a bit of careful scheming never went amiss. "If you need the sea, love, we will get you to the sea. But you better rest now. We've got planning to do."
"P-planning?" The effort of all the talking seemed to have left Lyle struggling for breath, panting fast and shallow, which horrified Ben; that hadn't happened before. He forced himself to be steadfast, refusing to panic. He would be Lyle's rock from now on, and never let him down again.
"Yes," said Ben. "You need to talk to me about the curse and what you think will happen if we break it. Then, whatever occurs, we can be together. We must plan."
Lyle licked dry lips uncertainly. "Are you really going to… propose to me?"
"Indeed I am." Ben smiled, stroking Lyle's hair with the back of his hand, although sounding confident became harder by the moment. "For the first time in far too long, you and I are going to take control of our own destinies."
Lyle smiled faintly then closed his eyes, as if going to sleep... or worse. He turned still as a rock. Ben shook him, jolting him awake. Lyle snatched a ragged breath.
"Stay with me," pleaded Ben. "That can all wait until later. You'll be better when the moon comes up, you always are."
*~*~*
The nightjars were noisy that dusk, screeching and rattling and causing Lyle to moan and cover his ears, which Ben took as a good sign. For most of the afternoon, Lyle had remained worryingly unresponsive.
Ben carried Lyle over to the pines by the pool and built their usual fire. Together they watched the moon ascend, till her full face glowed above the clearing. Her beams danced across the rippling surface of the pool.
"Do you want to bathe?" Ben pressed his lips to Lyle's temple, while Lyle snuggled against him.
"I don't think I can," said Lyle. "If it were the sea, maybe, but…"
"It will be the sea soon, I promise. But we must talk. What exactly will happen if we break the curse?"
Lyle's gaze, full of uncertainly, met his. "I suppose," he said, "I'll disappear from this place and go back to where I came from." A shudder wracked Lyle's frame. "Back to my home—and to my brother, if he's still there."
"If he is, what do you think will happen?"
Lyle's expression hardened. "I'll get away, don't you worry, just one sniff of that salt water and I'll be able to best him. I know it in my heart. Don't you think I've been dreaming of that moment long enough? For one-hundred-and-seventy-five years!"
Ben couldn't contain a grimace. "Okay, so you've got a plan. But are you sure you're strong enough?"
"I won't let him stand in my way. I'll get away and come back to you. You have to trust me."
"Okay," said Ben, his worries far from allayed. "But we then have to find each other. From the location of the wreck of the Jubliana, we know you grew up somewhere around the coast of the Isle of Wight. If your brother is still there and still hostile, we can't afford to meet anywhere near that. "
"Do you know the Seven White Whales?" asked Lyle. "They're a series of white chalk cliffs along the southern coast of this island."
B
en considered for a second. "Yeah, I think I do. We call them the Seven Sisters. But that's a big stretch of shore to search along. We might keep missing each other. How about…" Ben wracked his brain; he'd passed many happy childhood holidays in a resort called Eastbourne, not far from the Seven Sisters. "Okay," he said. "If you keep going east from the Seven Sisters, you reach a high cliff we call Beachy Head. You'll know it because there's a lighthouse beneath. After that, the shore falls down to shingle and sand and a seaside town. There's an old stone tower by the beach there—it's called the Wish Tower." Ben smiled; the name seemed apt. They were living on a wish and a prayer now. "We could meet there, although it seems a very long way for you to swim, all the way from the Isle of Wight."
"It'll be nothing," said Lyle, clearer and more certain than he'd been all day. "I like the sound of your Wish Tower. Let's go for it." He wriggled out of Ben's arms and reached for the tree trunk to drag himself up.
"What are you doing?" Ben jumped up and slipped a hand into the small of Lyle's back to steady him.
"I'm getting up," said Lyle. He flashed his wolfish smile, rolled back his shoulders, and tentatively stretched. "If you're going to propose, I need to stand. I want the full effect of your getting down on one knee."
"But surely you're not ready yet and—Agh!" Ben yelped as four long fins emerged from Lyle's cloak and curled about his middle, yanking him near. He tumbled into Lyle's open arms, Lyle lurched backward, and Ben feared they were going to topple and he'd squash Lyle against the tree. Somehow, they held firm. Lyle's lips claimed his, their mouths parted, and their bodies intertwined. Ben kissed Lyle as if his existence depended on it, with all the longing in his soul and all the adoration in his heart. Lyle's hold, with fins and arms, tightened like iron strips, too serious now for any playful groping or sliding of fins. Ben welcomed the bondage.
He wished every place their bodies touched could fuse as one. As the kiss intensified, he almost believed that could be true. Ben savoured the urgent brush of Lyle's tongue against his, returned the attentions with interest, and understood for certain he'd want to be with Lyle for as long as he lived. When they finally broke apart, only one action seemed natural.
The Lonely Merman Page 9
