Building a Family

by M. K. Stelmack

  She handed it to Ben. “There’s your precious, Gollum.”

  Ben flipped open the lid and found the ring, unharmed.

  Ariel dragged the stool back to her screen. “No need for an apology. You’d choke on it, anyway.”

  He set the box on the table and carried it all into the living room. He applied new felt pads to the feet of the couch and set it in the exact spot Connie liked it. He did the same with the end table and floor lamp. Later, when she wore his ring, they’d shop together for new furniture.

  Ben entered the dark kitchen and stood at the island, where Ariel sat in the glow of the screen, her pale face taking on an alien glow. He coughed. Ariel didn’t look up. He coughed and coughed. Still her gaze stuck to the screen, even though there was no way she wasn’t aware of him. In the middle of another spate of coughing, he choked out, “I’m sorry.”

  He turned to leave.

  “She’s not what you think she is.”

  Connie, of course. Even when she was not here, she was. “And what do you think I think she is?”

  “Perfect.”

  The word came out with a puff of contempt. Ben hadn’t ever believed Connie to be perfect; a perfect person wouldn’t need him.

  “Clearly you have a juicy bit of gossip about her you want to share.”

  She took out both earbuds and tapped off her music on her phone. “It’s not gossip. I saw it with my own eyes.”

  She waited and so did he. She caved first. “She sells drugs.”

  Ben kept his face still. “There was a time she might’ve done that. Not now.”

  “If by ‘not now’ you mean in the last two days, then sure, you go on believing that.”

  The Goth was lying, trying to drive him away, so she could have Connie for herself just as Miranda had tried. Both would fail.

  “You know The Ditch?” Ariel said. “Yeah, I was there for a smoke instead of—a smoke between classes—and she’s there with some guy named Trevor.” Ben jerked, and Ariel gave a little smirk. “Heard his name before?”

  No, Connie. Don’t do this to me. “Did you see her take anything from him?” Ben gritted out.

  “As if they’d do anything in front of me.”

  “Then how do you know that he deals drugs?”

  “Because I’ve been at school for nearly a month, that’s why. It doesn’t take long to figure out how this stuff works.”

  “It’s a little suspicious that you showed up in the exact spot where nothing good ever happens.”

  Ariel shrugged. “Smoking isn’t condoned, but it isn’t illegal.”

  “Consumption of tobacco products is illegal for minors,” Ben clarified. He didn’t care if she sucked on the cancer stick or not, but her attitude annoyed him no end.

  She shrugged again. “Anyway, it’s not as bad as what Auntie Connie is doing.”

  Ben told her what he knew. “Connie said she went to the school to speak to the vice principal about a Lakers-on-the-Go event.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “So maybe she was on her way to do that when she came upon you in The Ditch with Trevor. She condone you being there?”

  Ariel’s eyes shifted, which meant that she wasn’t so sure of herself. But—and Ben felt a punch to the gut at the realization—it did mean that she wasn’t lying about the incident itself. “For your information, I know about Trevor, okay? Connie and I don’t keep secrets. At the end of the day, it’s your word against hers.”

  Her alien-lit face suddenly hardened.

  “And what do you think she’s going to say? She’ll blink her pretty green eyes at you and swing her pretty blond hair and tell you that she would never do such a thing. And you’ll believe it because you want to believe it.” She pointed to the wall and the living room behind it. “But, deep in your heart, you’ll always wonder if I’m right. You’ll always wonder if you paid too much for that ring.”

  She swept up her phone and Connie’s laptop and exited to her downstairs room. Ben made it to the couch, sat and stared at the box and wondered.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CONNIE KNEW SHE was in deep trouble when Ben didn’t come into Smooth Sailing as per usual but texted her to say that he was waiting outside. Once inside his truck cab, he’d told her that they were going to his place first. When she’d asked him why, he’d cut her a look and said, “Later.”

  He took her to his workshop, which had changed in the six weeks since she’d last been in it. It was emptier and seemed unused. Stuff was missing—the sawhorses, tools, stacks of wood. Wait. It was all over at her house—or his. The boundaries were getting fuzzy.

  Ben leaned against his bench and unzipped his jacket. Connie left hers fully zipped because they had differing opinions about what constituted a heated workshop.

  “Ariel says you’re in contact with Trevor.”

  Not this. She’d counted on the antagonism between Ben and Ariel to close down communication between them. In the past four days, school, her work, Ben’s everlasting presence at the house and, yeah, her own procrastination had prevented Connie from having her own heart-to-heart with Ariel.

  How to word this so he wouldn’t think the worst of either her or Ariel?

  “Connie,” he whispered. “Please.”

  His head was bowed, his hands fisted in his front pockets. “I need the truth, Connie. Are you back with him?”

  Connie felt as if he’d whacked her with one of his two-by-fours. “Back with— No! What exactly did Ariel tell you?”

  His head came up; his eyes searched hers. “She said she found you and Trevor together. She didn’t see anything pass between you two but she knew who Trevor was.”

  “She would. How she learned about him is beyond me.”

  “She said it wasn’t hard.”

  Connie had to concede that. Ariel had probably figured out by noon on her first day who to buy drugs from. By day’s end, she’d probably had Trevor’s name and number.

  “Connie,” Ben said, “please tell me the truth.”

  “I am telling you the truth, Ben. I am not dating him. I am not dealing his drugs.”

  “You said you went to the school to meet with the vice principal. Is that true?”

  Connie couldn’t stand Ben’s suspicion anymore. “Yes! I came across Trevor and Ariel by accident. I was taking the shortcut to her school when I overheard them in The Ditch. I came up with this big story about how Trevor is cutting me out of my portion and giving it to her to sell and she probably shouldn’t trust anyone who will screw over the people he works for. She gave him back the drugs.”

  “So Ariel is selling drugs?”

  “No, she gave them back. At least, I hope she did.”

  “But she was planning to sell?”

  Connie drew a breath, stalling to figure out how to deliver the truth in the nicest possible way. “I think so, but you have to understand that she’s gone through a lot and—”

  Ben picked up a hammer and brought it down hard on the bench, sending shudders through the metal. “And so have we! My mom left me when I was eight, your dad died when you were twelve. We both had to pick up the pieces.”

  “I’ve got you, but she doesn’t have anyone.”

  Ben’s anger fell away. He tossed down the hammer and came to her. “You have me,” he said softly, “and Ariel has you. But tell me, Connie, who do I have?”

  This close to her, Ben’s shirt pattern seemed extra-magnified, the lines of blue, green and gray intersecting straight and solid. “There is no one else, Connie. There never has been. It’s lonely not to have the only one you love.”

  The pattern wavered before her eyes. She was breaking his heart, breaking her own, and the only right thing she could do was let it go on breaking until her redemption list was done.

  “I have this crazy idea that you still love me,” he said, “so y
ou not choosing me is one thing, but choosing someone else, choosing someone who pulls you down, that’s another. Fix your mistakes. Not other people’s, or else you’ll never be ready for me.”

  His way of saying she couldn’t ever get Ariel and Miranda off the list.

  “I know you think I’m being tough on Ariel,” he went on. “We can both agree that she’s gone through stuff we can’t imagine. Even when you were at your worst, Connie, it didn’t hold a candle to the situations she’s waded through. Stuff like that will change a person. It has to. And you can want to help her. I’m not faulting you for that. And she can want help. And I’m not faulting her for that. All I’m saying is that maybe at this point in your life you have enough problems.”

  Her head dropped to his chest. “Yeah,” she whispered. “Yeah.”

  His right hand slid from her shoulder and came around the back of her neck, warm and oh-so-good. Immediately it set to work, massaging the cords just as he used to do. “I don’t want you to feel bad, but you already had plans. Good plans. Like your education. You passed your CPR course a few months ago. What are you planning to do with it?”

  Well, since he could see that she was an unfit guardian, he might as well as learn that she was a pitiful careerist, too.

  “Do you know why I was even on my way to see the vice principal?” Good thing his chest muffled her voice because she didn’t trust herself to be coherent. “Sure, it was to follow up with Lakers-on-the-Go, but the real reason is that I was bored to absolute tears doing my homework for nursing. I didn’t understand it and I didn’t want to understand it. So, yes, I can save someone if they swallowed a bottle cap, but beyond that, this upgrading doesn’t seem worth it.”

  “Living life well is worth it, Connie.”

  “Yes, but I don’t know what that life is, okay?” This subject was too painful, too close to the truth. “What about you? It’s not as if you’re a millionaire. What are your ambitions?”

  His lips pressed against her bent head. “My ambition is you, Connie. Creating a worthwhile life for you that includes me.”

  She couldn’t help it. She drew back her head and erupted with a frustrated cry. “Ben, you always say the nicest things. It drives me absolutely crazy.”

  “I was thinking that I was saying some pretty tough things tonight. About you. About Ariel.” He tugged on her ring finger. “About us.”

  She stepped back but her hands were somehow captured in his. “Tough but true.” She pulled free a hand and poked him in his chest. “Like you.”

  He caught her hand and kissed it, glove and all.

  Her heart tripped and tumbled. “Ben—”

  “Would you rather I kiss you somewhere else?”

  “No!”

  “Liar.”

  “I’m not lying.”

  “You going to talk to Ariel tomorrow? About living somewhere else?”

  She blinked at his subject switch. “Ben...”

  “Because if you don’t, I will come over and kiss you like you haven’t been kissed in five years.”

  He would, too. Previous experience had proven he could kiss the spine right out of her, leave her in a pulpy heap, her brain mush, susceptible to all kinds of suggestions—like putting on a big, beautiful ring. But she wasn’t letting herself take the easy way out anymore. Even if she spent the rest of her life striking the names off her list.

  She drew what little breath she had left. “Tomorrow. I will talk to her. But I won’t make any promises that you’re going to like the outcome.”

  * * *

  THE HEADBOARD WAS coming together. The wheels were inset and now he just had to think about the number of leaves he wanted. The largest in the center probably and then—

  Someone pounded on the door. Likely Seth with one more wedding thing Ben must do right away or the world as we know it would implode. Except why didn’t he walk right in as he usually did?

  “Come in!”

  It was Ariel in black and full scowl. No earbuds.

  He read his phone clock. “It’s one thirty. You’re skipping.”

  “I have a spare.”

  “No, you don’t.” He didn’t know one way or another, but given Ariel’s nature, it was safe to assume.

  “When else am I supposed to talk to you?”

  She was skipping, then. “Do we have anything to talk about?”

  Maybe up to seven leaves, but only if each had meaning...

  “You might not have anything to say to me but I’ve got plenty to say to you.”

  Ben, his back still turned to her, rolled his eyes. Yes, no doubt.

  The leaves could match the tree. Should he make them life-size?

  “Auntie Connie admitted you are behind her talking to me about going into the system. You’re not going to get rid of me so easy.”

  He’d make them life-size, keep them true to life.

  “Are you listening to me?” she demanded. “Dad.”

  What? He spun around.

  “Now I’ve got your attention.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You know. My mom told me.”

  Ben wasn’t falling for her goading. He turned back to his work.

  “She told me before she died that you were my father.”

  Ben forced himself to breathe normally. To school his features so they didn’t betray his heart misfiring. Only then did he face her. “Ariel. Your mother told Connie that she wasn’t sure who the father was. If she wasn’t sure sixteen years ago, why did she change her story during her last days?”

  “She cleaned herself up, began remembering things she’d forgotten.”

  “Was she also on prescription drugs toward the end, too? Maybe making connections that weren’t ever there?”

  Ariel crossed her arms, which meant that he’d hit the nail on the head. “You’re not denying that you could be the father.”

  Ariel wasn’t stupid, and for all her faults, Miranda hadn’t been, either. More the tragedy. “Then hear me now. I’m not your father.”

  “Because you know it for a fact or because you hope I’m not?”

  “Both.”

  Her arms crossed tighter. “I want a paternity test.”

  The girl was crazy. “That’s nice. You’re not getting it from me.”

  “If you’re so sure I’m not your daughter, then it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “I’m not going to all the expense of a paternity test when you can listen to me for free.”

  “The test is two hundred bucks. I already checked.”

  “Two hundred bucks too much.”

  “I’ll tell Auntie Connie if you don’t.”

  “Tell her what? That you think that I’m your father based on the ramblings of your crackhead mother on her deathbed?”

  Ariel’s jaw worked. “That was mean.”

  It was. The Miranda Effect flaring up again. “You’re right. I am sorry.” His second apology already to her.

  Her arms dropped to her sides, she scuffed the sawdust on the floor. “Yeah, well, whatever.”

  He blew out every air particle from his lungs and tried again to convince her, slowly, logically. “You may not have met your father but you were very familiar with your mother. Was she capable of manufacturing a story? Did she ever lie to you?”

  The whites of Ariel’s eyes widened in anger, or pain. “Shut up about my mother. At least she was there for me, unlike you.”

  Ben focused on keeping his voice even. “I wasn’t there because I didn’t need to be. For the last time, I’m not your father.”

  “Then prove it. I’ll even pay for the test.”

  Would she stop going around in circles? “I am not taking it because that means admitting to the remotest chance that I’m your father. Which I am not.”

  “You never...d
id it with my mother?”

  “I never did.” He was surprised at the smoothness of his lie.

  “I don’t believe you,” she said. “I still want the test. But I’m willing to compromise.”

  This ought to be good.

  “You talk to Auntie Connie. Say you’ve changed your mind and you want me to stay. In return, I won’t tell her about Mom and you.”

  Connie had warned he might not like the outcome. “She’s agreed to let you stay?”

  “She has.”

  “Then what’s it to you if I put my stamp of approval on what’s between you and her?”

  Ariel gave the sawdust another good scuffing. “Life’s whole lot easier if she’s not worried you’re mad at her.”

  “I’m not mad at her.”

  “Yeah, well, Auntie Connie always was about trying to make everybody happy.”

  “That never works out.”

  “She’d feel happier if you were behind her.”

  “She say that?”

  Scuff. “Does she need to?”

  True. “You’re not going to push for a paternity test because you don’t want Connie to have to choose between the two of us?”

  “Basically.”

  “Because I can tell you right now, she’d pick you. You hold all the cards, Ariel.”

  Up came her chin. “And it’s my business if I want to play them.”

  Her mother had forced Connie to choose five years ago with disastrous results for Ariel. Today Ariel was creating a way for Connie to have them both.

  Who was he to stand in the way? Last night, for the first time in three years, they’d touched. He’d carried the feel of her head against his chest, the warmth of her neck on his hand, the softness of her hair on his lips, carried the actual touch and smell of her to his bed last night. He was not going to have it torn from him again.

  “Fine,” he said, “I agree to your deal.”

  * * *

  TEN MINUTES AFTER starting her shift, the roughest, toughest, meanest dude Spirit Lake had ever manufactured walked in the doors of Smooth Sailing. Trevor McCready’s brother swung himself up on a bar stool and inclined his head to Connie. She walked over, her heart sinking into her stomach. After the morning she’d had with Ariel, she wasn’t ready for this.