Frankie stopped herself when she heard the tremor in her own voice. She didn’t cry in front of people, and she certainly wasn’t going to start now.
She expected Ben to give her a pat answer about prayer and trust, so his response surprised her.
“I feel the same way. I’m upset about it, too.”
“You are?”
Ben didn’t answer right away. Al’s baritone snore and Rae’s softly breathed accompaniment filled the waiting space.
“Of course I am,” he finally said. “I don’t expect to ever be back here with Dad. I had planned to move him into a care facility at the end of the summer.”
His hands clenched the wheel as he directed the car onto the final turn toward Silver Lake. “Now with the way things are—him swearing at Rae and other things—I’m not sure we’ll even make it to the end of summer.”
Frankie didn’t know what upset her more: the potential for more vandalism or the regret that hung on each word out of Ben’s mouth, and she was afraid that if it persisted her armor wouldn’t stay strong.
Chapter Ten
As Ben struggled to get his father awake and coherent enough to walk into their cabin, he couldn’t help feeling slightly envious of Frankie who, despite her own delicate stature, could still carry Rae.
He also noted that it seemed she couldn’t get away from him fast enough.
His little pity party didn’t help, he mocked himself. As if she didn’t have enough to worry about without him adding to it.
Still, he couldn’t help feeling that it would be nice, just for once, to tell someone everything he felt and thought about. The strange thing was, Ben couldn’t recall ever particularly wanting to do that before he met Frankie. But he was probably just drawn to her because of her knowledge and understanding of their situation, he reminded himself.
He couldn’t let himself think it was any more than that.
Meanwhile, Ben was stuck struggling to maneuver his dad out of the front seat of the car. It was a precarious balancing act to awaken his father enough to function but not to get him agitated. Sometimes he woke up in battle mode—that was the worst.
There were times when Ben couldn’t remember when his life didn’t revolve around seeking the balance between being a good caregiver and not neglecting his own needs. Lately, though, the balance was tipping seriously in the direction of his father, like one of the teeter-totters at the park when all the kids would pile onto one end of it.
He felt guilty for any resentment, even if it was fleeting, because surely this was the least of what he owed his father. He wished for the umpteenth time that his dad could reassure him that everything was forgiven, that he understood his son had had to get away and why he didn’t come home as soon as he should have. Of course his dad couldn’t, and the voice in his heart on the matter remained devastatingly silent.
Ben didn’t dare to imagine the days stretching out ahead of him with the responsibilities piled more and more heavily upon him. Even worse, paradoxically, was thinking about life without his father.
And, in the background, a quiet question lingered in his mind: Just what were his feelings about Frankie?
As if summoned by that very question, Frankie walked out onto her deck, just as Ben managed to maneuver Al into a standing position.
“Nope!” Al protested but without much conviction, so Ben was able to guide him into the cabin and settle him in his bed where, thankfully, he drifted off again.
When he came back outside again, Frankie was still on her deck. She had changed out of the clothes she had worn to church and was wearing shorts, a T-shirt and the baseball cap that had briefly deceived him on that first day. He smiled a little to himself, seeing it. She had confessed on one of their long walks with Al that she had never played the sport, nor did she have any interest in watching it.
“But sunglasses pinch my nose and this keeps the sun out of my eyes.”
“They pinch your nose?” he had asked drily.
She had fisted her small hands on her slim hips and glared at him, daring him to provoke her further.
A thought passed through Ben’s mind that she was particularly cute, but he refused to let it nest.
Lord, don’t let me want something when the timing is so bad.
Frankie had a magazine open on the table, but Ben could see that she wasn’t reading, it. She appeared to be deep in thought about something. He didn’t want to disturb her and was about to resign himself to tidying around his cabin when she called out softly.
“Did Al go back to sleep?”
“Yes. Is Rae still sleeping?”
“No,” Frankie said. “She usually only falls asleep in the car because she closes her eyes so she won’t get carsick when she sits in the back seat. She’s having some quiet time, though, working on her art project for tomorrow.”
“She gets carsick?” Ben asked. “Would she be better off in the front seat?”
“Not if she closes her eyes when she feels it coming on,” Frankie explained patiently.
“Hmm, well, okay then.”
An unfamiliar sensation washed over Ben as he suddenly wondered what it would be like to be a father, and to be so intimately tied to a child that you knew all those revealing details about them.
Frankie looked pensive, then blurted out, as if she was afraid of changing her mind if she didn’t speak right away, “I’ve got coffee on, if you want some.”
“Sure,” Ben answered, feeling unexpectedly pleased. He hadn’t been sure Frankie would welcome his company after telling him she was divorced. He imagined those words, brief as they were, ripping a hole within her.
Frankie went into her cabin to pour him some coffee and to top up her own.
“Will Al sleep for a while longer, do you think?” she asked, returning to the deck.
Ben shrugged. “Who knows? There’s pros and cons if he does. I can relax now, but I’ll pay for it later.”
“That’s exactly how I used to feel with Rae,” Frankie agreed.
“Funny the way life goes full circle, isn’t it?” Ben commented. But it wasn’t the kind of funny that made either of them laugh or even smile.
Ben took a sip of his coffee and glanced at Frankie over the rim of his cup. Her eyes seemed to hold a million secrets in them and he wished, fleetingly, that he could ask. But if he expected her to reveal more, then she might expect the same of him, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for that, now or ever.
“What are you thinking about?” Frankie asked.
Why, Ben wondered, did her radar always zero in on him when he least wanted it to?
He hesitated. It wasn’t likely that he could put his conflicting thoughts into a coherent explanation even if he wanted to. Frankie remained silent, sipping her own coffee and looking away from him.
Finally, he answered, “I’m thinking about Dad and wondering what I should do about him.”
Frankie did look at him then, her eyes filled with understanding.
“Maybe I can help?” she offered. “I mean, I can’t make the decision for you, but I’ve observed a lot of seniors and I’ve seen what their families go through. It might even help to just talk about it.”
“It might,” Ben conceded. But he stayed silent. While it was true that his thoughts were always edged with worry about his father, he was also trying to comprehend the mixture of traits—hard and defensive, soft and empathetic—that composed his summer neighbor.
* * *
Propelled by Ben’s continued silence and the grim edginess around his eyes and mouth that spoke of weariness and concern, Frankie had the urge to share her goal with him, an offering of sorts. She would give a little and then, perhaps, he would find it easier to talk to her. It was strange, she pondered, how she had almost forgotten the rhythmic dance of give and take that could occur between friends...if that’s what sh
e and Ben were.
“When you saw me writing on the beach,” she began slowly, “I was...I was writing down some things that I want to happen after this summer is over.”
Although Ben’s eyes lit with interest, he let her take her time and didn’t prod.
Frankie appreciated that about him, and it occurred to her that she appreciated other things about him, as well, not the least of which was the way he treated Rae. He wasn’t used to being around children, she knew, but he never talked down to Rae, as Rae’s dad had been prone to do, and he took her feelings into consideration. Really, when she thought about it, after the brief misunderstanding when he’d first seen them at the cabin, Ben had been nothing but considerate to both of them.
And, if she occasionally caught herself admiring the dark blue in his eyes and the sun in his hair, there was no harm in that...was there?
Frankie realized that Ben was still waiting for her answer.
“I want to be a nurse,” she said, savoring the words as she spoke them. The more she said them, the more right and true they felt. But when the words left her mouth and were out there for Ben to hear, she remembered her ex-husband’s reaction and criticism and braced herself.
The touch on her hand was warm and soothing, penetrating through to some fragile and almost forgotten part of her. For a moment, Frankie closed her eyes and savored the reassurance in that touch, the comfort. She didn’t even associate it with Ben or really register that he had pulled his chair closer to hers.
When she opened her eyes and saw him looking at her, she was embarrassed, though his eyes were filled with admiration.
“That’s a fantastic goal,” he said. “I honestly don’t know anyone who I think would make a better nurse than you would.”
“Well...thanks.” Frankie tried to shrug away his enthusiasm. She didn’t want to need it; she didn’t want it to touch an emotional core within her the way it was.
But when she looked back at him again, the admiration remained. His hand on hers remained, warm and, somehow, full of promise.
She wanted to take it all in, to believe that she deserved it.
Suddenly Ben dropped her hand and bolted upright.
“Do you hear that?” he asked, already moving off the deck before Frankie could react.
She saw him headed at a hurried pace back toward his own cabin and followed him, guessing that he feared that Al had slipped out and would be on the run.
As Frankie reached the side of their cabin, she heard some loud rustling and grunts as if a physical struggle ensued. She darted quickly around to the back, in anticipation of helping Ben subdue his father.
To her shock, it wasn’t Al that he struggled with. It was a thin teenage boy. His cutoff jeans were splattered with paint, and he thrashed and fought like a wild animal in Ben’s unrelenting grip.
“He was about to decorate the back of our cabin,” Ben said, his mouth in a grim, white line.
“In the middle of Sunday afternoon?” Frankie gasped inanely. Then she gathered herself enough to say, “I’ll go get help.”
“It’s okay,” Ben said. “I’ve got him. But if you could stay close by in case Dad wakes up?”
“Yes. Yes, of course. It might be best if I just sit over at your cabin, if you think Al won’t be too startled at seeing me when he wakes up.”
“He’s startled seeing me when he wakes up,” Ben said bluntly. He had one strong arm firmly around the boy’s midriff.
“I have to get going,” he said, his voice growing choppy with exertion. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Frankie watched as Ben maneuvered the boy into the front seat of his car and she could see that, in the midst of everything, he was being very careful not to hurt him.
She popped quickly back to her own cabin to let Rae know where she would be, explaining only that Ben had something he had to do.
Rae lifted her head from her work. She had the look that Frankie thought of as being “fuzzy around the edges,” when she pulled herself a long way from where her attention had been to where it needed to be. As always, there was a slight twinge in Frankie’s heart when she saw her daughter with her lopsided glasses and her unfurling braids.
“Can I come, too?” Rae asked.
“If you want to,” Frankie said. “Or would you rather keep working on your art here?” She studied the sketch that Rae had been working on—two beaver faces peeking out from their dam—and said, “This is very good. I’m so happy you are drawing again.”
Rae shrugged but looked pleased.
“Anyway, you can stay here, or grab some things and come with me. They’re both fine, but I can’t wait too long in case Al wakes up.”
Rae sprang into action, gathering up her picture and pencils.
At Ben’s cabin, Frankie quickly checked on Al, who was still asleep. It was a relief for the time being, but she felt bad thinking what that would mean for Ben later on.
The events outside of the cabin had happened so quickly that she’d hardly had time to register them. As time passed and Ben still hadn’t returned, anxiety began to overtake Frankie. For Rae’s sake, she strove to keep a calm demeanor.
Thankfully, Rae was contentedly absorbed in her sketching.
What was taking Ben so long? What were his plans for the boy?
Something niggled in the back of Frankie’s mind, telling her that maybe she should pray about it.
Before she could decide if she wanted to acknowledge that thought, Rae put her pencils aside with a deeply satisfied sigh and asked, “How much longer do we have to be here?”
“I’m not sure,” Frankie answered. “I thought Ben would be back by now.”
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
There was silence.
“Yes, what is it, Rae?”
Rae picked up one of her pencils again and, tracing over a circle again and again, she asked, her eyes on the paper, “Are you going to marry Ben?”
Frankie still hadn’t made sense of what it was she had felt on the deck before Ben caught the boy, and now wasn’t the time to start. No doubt Rae was thinking back to what she had heard the ladies talking about at church, even though she—and Ben—had done their best to reassure Rae that it was just idle chitchat and didn’t warrant her worry.
But the pencil stilled on the paper and she knew Rae was waiting for an answer.
“Ben and I are just friends,” Frankie replied. “Acquaintances, really,” she added for good measure. “I don’t plan to get married again.”
Rae raised her head slowly and looked at her mom with more questions in her eyes.
“Some moms and dads get married again to other people.”
“Yes,” Frankie agreed. “Some do. I don’t intend to.”
She held Rae’s eyes until her daughter gave a brief nod, picked up her pencil and began to draw again.
Frankie was relieved that Rae was satisfied, but why then, she asked herself, did it suddenly hurt to give that answer? Was she going to have to spend the rest of her life judging men by Trevor’s behavior? Was that even fair to do, especially when someone like Ben continuously demonstrated to her that he was nothing like that?
The door to the cabin clicked open suddenly and she looked in its direction, anxious to hear what had happened.
She was surprised to see that Ben wasn’t alone. The boy he had caught vandalizing was still with him.
Chapter Eleven
When she saw the boy standing still and not fighting Ben, despite the colossal scowl on his face, Frankie realized just how young he really was. She didn’t think he could be any older than fourteen and wasn’t particularly large for his age, either. He was thin and his brown hair hung into his eyes the way some young people wore it these days.
Questions tangled in her head. Why had Ben brought him back he
re? What must Rae be thinking?
But Rae studied the stranger with curiosity and a dollop of shyness, and Frankie realized that in her daughter’s eyes, this was just a teenage boy, not someone who had frightened an entire community.
Come to think of it, was it really possible that this scrawny boy with the darting eyes was the cause of all that? Frankie wondered now if the evidence was only circumstantial.
She had so many things she wanted to ask Ben.
Her eyes sought his to enquire what was going on. In the expression on his face, she read clearly, Don’t worry, I’ll fill you in.
Al took that moment to wake up, shouting out his groggy displeasure from his room. Ben went to attend to him, saying over his shoulder, “Keep an eye on him, will you?” He jerked his head toward the boy.
“But what if he...?” Frankie protested, trying not to sound as nervous about the situation as she felt.
“He’s not going to run, are you, Danny?” Ben’s words were soft, but they most definitely had pointed edges.
The boy didn’t answer; instead, he remained where he was standing as if frozen to the spot. His shoulders and arms were tense at his sides.
“I’ll be right back,” Ben said.
There was silence, punctuated only by Rae’s pencil making a soft, scratching sound on the paper.
After a few minutes, she lifted her head from her work and asked the boy, “Is Ben your dad?”
The boy jerked, almost a convulsive motion, and glared at Rae.
“No!” he said. Even his voice was younger than Frankie expected, cracked with adolescence. “What are you? Stupid?”
“Hey, watch it,” Frankie warned him. He subsided but his eyes stabbed at her.
* * *
Ben returned with Al in tow and took stock of the scenario that awaited him:
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