by T. L. Haddix
“Did John catch him? He isn’t safe to drive. He’ll hurt himself.”
Byrdie came in and crouched next to them. “John has him. They’re gone. He’ll take care of him. Oh, sweet baby girl. I’m so sorry.”
She hadn’t noticed Hershel leave, but she didn’t care. All she could think about was Ben’s face. She let Jonah pick her up and carry her to bed, and when she caught a whiff of Ben’s cologne on the sheets, she cried harder than she’d cried in years. She cried so hard, she barely felt the prick of the needle Jonah used to give her the sedative.
The bliss and peace overtook her nearly at once as the drug’s seductive effects washed over her. Her last conscious thought was that it didn’t really kill the pain, but it made her not care, just for a little while.
She woke up several hours later, groggy and a little disoriented. Strong cramps were working their way through her pelvis, and she held still for a few moments, centering herself. A vision of Ben swam in front of her eyes, and the mental anguish pushed aside the physical pain for a bit.
The room was dark, though light was coming in around the edges of the door, which was slightly ajar. The clock showed her that it was just after midnight. Ainsley sat up, then got to her feet and hurried into the bathroom, where she threw up. She knew that in a few hours, she would be fully in the grips of the worst of the pain. Before that happened, she needed to do something. A wild thought had occurred to her as she was coming awake, and she had to check it out as soon as she could. She wouldn’t be able to rest until she did.
She changed into a cotton nightgown and robe and left the room quietly, heading for the stairs. She passed the second guest room on her way and glanced inside. Jonah’s suitcase was at the foot of the bed, but he wasn’t in the room.
Once upstairs, she made her way down the hall and into her old room. She flicked the switch, and the lamp beside the bed came on. The pink shade cast a rosy glow over the room, and she felt a jolt of deja vu as she stepped inside. She ignored the sensation and went straight to the closet.
Falling to her knees, she moved aside several pairs of shoes to expose a barely visible line in the carpet. Like she’d done a hundred times before, she leaned in and grabbed the back corner, where she’d fashioned a loop of thread to use for that very purpose. She peeled back the carpet, exposing the panel she’d cut in the floor.
Her desperation grew as she fought to pull it from the recess where it sat. She broke a nail in the process, but didn’t care. She was too intent on getting at that panel.
“Ainsley? What in the world?” Byrdie’s worried voice came from behind her.
“What’s going on?” Jonah asked.
“It’s the one place I didn’t look. The one place she didn’t know about. That I didn’t think she knew about. But she knew everything.” She laughed bitterly. Finally, the panel came loose, and not breathing for fear that she was wrong, Ainsley leaned in. When she saw the brown envelope, she let out a sob of relief and grasped it tightly.
She had it open before she’d sat back on her heels. Inside, the folder that she’d been searching for was nestled safely. She scanned its contents quickly, uncaring of the tears that fell onto the paper.
“Is that it?” Byrdie asked.
“Yes. Thank God, it is. Oh, thank God.”
Jonah helped her to her feet. “The Campbell file?”
Ainsley nodded. “She hid it here. I should have known. It’s all here. He’s safe now. He’s safe.” Not wanting to let go after having searched for so long, she held on to the file as they got her back downstairs. Even when Byrdie tried to take it as they put Ainsley back to bed, she had a hard time uncurling her fingers.
“Baby girl, it’s okay. No one’s going to do anything with this. I’m going to put it in your nightstand, with your poetry book. It will be right there when you wake up.”
Ainsley let go. “I know. I trust you. He’s safe,” she whispered as she drifted off again. She was exhausted and couldn’t hold her eyes open. “Thank you, God, he’s safe.”
Byrdie and Jonah watched her go back to sleep, and Byrdie slipped the folder inside the drawer, as she’d promised.
“It’s a miracle she trusts us.” Jonah’s voice was low as they quietly left the bedroom. “You know that?”
“I do. And I’m afraid it’s going to take a miracle to pull her through this. I don’t see him forgiving her. Not as angry as he was.” Byrdie stretched carefully, then drew her robe around her. “Poor young man. He’s been as hurt by this as she has, you mark my words. I wish you could have seen them last night, Jonah. They were so happy.”
“You don’t get as angry as he was and not feel deeply about someone. That’s not just hurt pride. Who do you think told him?”
They went into the kitchen, where he grabbed the milk out of the refrigerator. He poured two small glasses and handed Byrdie one, then rested against the counter.
“Well, not many people in Hazard knew. The only ones I can think of are Elliot and his family. Ainsley ran into him last week. I’d bet you a hundred dollars Ben did, too. Elliot would enjoy ruining things for her. You know that.”
“Yeah, I do. The question is, what do we do about it?”
She could tell he was as worried as she was about how the fallout from today would affect Ainsley going forward.
“Honey, that’s a question I don’t know that there is an answer to. I think we’re going to have to wait and see. And pray.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ben didn’t return to the farmhouse until after it was fully dark. He finally had achieved the calm he needed, though it had been a hard-fought battle, and he was going to have scars. Literally—he’d fallen down a ravine on the way back, and he was pretty sure he’d broken his wrist.
He’d been lying on the damp and rocky ground, wondering what would happen if he just closed his eyes and let himself go, when he heard the unmistakable sounds of animals coming through the underbrush. A whimpering yip told him it was Amelia before he ever saw her, and she wasn’t alone. Rachel was with her. They were both shifted, Amelia as the wolf and Rachel as the deer, and they surrounded him with almost frantic movements.
“I’m okay. I just fell. Was catching my breath,” he reassured them. When Amelia nudged the elbow of his injured arm, he cursed ripely as a sharp, vicious pain tore through him. “Easy, Pip. I think I broke it.”
The pain was a welcome distraction from his thoughts. He’d put everything to do with Ainsley in a box, locked it up, and set it aside. That was the only way he knew how to deal with the betrayal.
The walk home seemed interminable, though it was probably only about an eighth of a mile from where he’d fallen. Amelia vacillated between nipping at his heels when he slowed down too much to suit her and hurrying ahead to show him the easiest way over the rocky ground. Rachel stayed beside him, a tall and slender doe whose strength he was grateful to have to lean on. More than once, he had to stop, resting his head against her neck as he caught his breath against the pain.
“I’ve always found it ironic, you know. That you’re the deer, and she’s the wolf,” he told Rachel at one point. “Given your personalities.”
His sister just huffed and gave him a loving nudge.
His parents were sitting with John on the front porch when he came out of the woods. Owen saw him first and stood.
“Oh, Ben. Thank God!” His mother came down the steps to meet him, but he pulled back from her instinctively, his injured arm tucked against his chest. If she touched him, he would fall apart.
“I’m a mess. You’ll get dirty.”
“I don’t care. You’re bleeding! And your hand—what happened?” She didn’t try to touch him again, though she stayed close as he limped up onto the porch.
“I took a little tumble. I think I may have cracked my wrist. The girls found me. Did you send th
em?”
Owen’s concern was just as palpable as Sarah’s as his eyes went over Ben in the light coming through the front door. “No, they went on their own. And I’d say you did break it, if the swelling’s any indication. Did you hit your head?”
“No, sir.”
Ben stood there, unsure what to do or say. Rachel and Amelia disappeared in the direction of the barn, and he knew they were going to the stall Owen had set aside for shifting in. Beyond that, he couldn’t really think, and while he didn’t want to be touched, he wanted someone to simply tell him what to do. Thankfully, his mother did just that.
“We need to get that wrist checked out. I’ll get my purse. John, will you take Ben’s truck to your house? Your father and I will take him to the ER, and he can get the truck later.”
“Sure.”
“I’ll get an icepack while you get ready,” Owen told her. They went inside, leaving Ben and John on the porch.
Ben looked at his brother uneasily. “I appreciate what you did today. I owe you one.”
“No. You don’t. You’re my baby brother. That’s why I’m here, to help you when you need it.” John looked at his hands, and Ben saw that he was twirling his wedding band around his finger. “I’m sorry. About everything. And I know you don’t want to talk about it,” he said when Ben opened his mouth to stop him. “But just know that I’m here if you need to talk, or even just have someone to sit with and pass the time.”
Ben nodded. “Thanks.”
He rode with his parents in Sarah’s car, his leg stretched out across the backseat. From the way his knee was throbbing, he was pretty sure it was black and blue under his pants.
“You doing okay back there?” Owen asked after a few miles.
“Yeah. I’ll live.” He hated imposing on them, and he told them that. “You don’t have to stay with me. Just drop me off. I can call a cab to get home.”
“Benjamin Wayne, if you weren’t already so beat up, I’d smack you for that,” his mother scolded. “Don’t be ridiculous. You may be a grown man, but you’re still our baby boy.”
Her hand was resting on the back of the driver’s seat, and with a muted groan, Ben sat forward enough that he could reach her. He clasped her fingers with his and squeezed for a few seconds, then let go. It was the most he could do.
“Emma always said I’d get a surprise I didn’t like someday. Looks like she was right.”
Four hours later, they were all exhausted, but Ben’s wrist was set and cast. He’d had a couple of deep lacerations that required stitches, and the ER doctor warned him that he would feel as though he’d been on the losing end of a bar fight the next day.
Owen drove them to Ben’s apartment and helped him up the stairs, Sarah trailing behind.
“Let’s get you to bed,” Owen told him, covering a yawn. “We’ll bunk down here tonight, if you don’t mind. I’m a little too tired to drive.”
Ben wasn’t sure that was true, but he didn’t argue. He didn’t want to be alone. “I’m going to wash up, change out of these clothes. You two take the bed. I’ll take the couch.” Before his mother could protest, he went into the bedroom to get clean clothes.
Moving around in the bathroom a few minutes later was awkward, but he managed. He’d elected to wear a soft pair of basketball shorts and not worry about a shirt, not wanting to have to fight his way into it.
When he came out, his mother was making a nest for him on the couch. His father was in the kitchen. He had heated up some soup and was dipping it into bowls. “I hope it’s okay. We were a little hungry.”
“Dad, you’re fine. Mi casa, su casa.”
Owen gestured to the table, an implacable look on his face. Ben gave in with a tired sigh and pulled out a chair as Sarah came in. After they ate, she opened the bottles on the table and handed him two pills.
“Pain meds, antibiotics. Down the hatch.”
A ghost of a smile whispered across his face. “Mom, I’m not six years old,” he told her after he’d swallowed the pills.
Sarah crossed her arms on the table and studied him. “No, you aren’t. Sometimes, I wish you were. I could keep you safe and unhurt easier then.” Her eyes clouded, and she looked away.
“Okay, on that note, I think we all need to get some sleep,” Owen said. He stood and cleared the table.
Ben headed into the living room and started settling in on the couch. His parents followed, Owen coming over to help him cover up. As he tucked him in, he ran a hand over Ben’s hair, and the poignancy of the moment almost undid Ben.
He was so lucky to have these people in his life. He didn’t know if he would ever be able to convey that to them, and he knew if he tried right then, he would fall apart. So instead, he reached up and clasped his father’s hand.
“Love you guys.”
“We love you. Just holler if you need us,” Owen told him softly. He turned off the light, and Ben closed his eyes, listening to the quiet murmur of their voices as they went to his bedroom and closed the door.
He thought if he could ever find someone to love him the way his parents loved each other, he would count himself the luckiest man on earth. He’d hoped so much that he had that with Ainsley. All he’d had was an illusion of affection. Now that it had been ripped away, he felt hollow inside.
He’d let her take something from him and had, in fact, given it to her willingly. He’d handed over his innocence, not just his virtue, but an innocence of spirit. That was gone, burned away by what he’d learned that day. He had thought it was gone years ago, until he felt that little spark of hope die that afternoon in her dining room.
He could move forward now. He told himself that over and over as he drifted off to sleep, the pain medicine kicking in to dull the throbbing ache in his wrist and his heart. What had happened was a good thing. Though he was at a complete and utter loss as to how in the hell he was going to use the pain to move on, he was determined to do it, even if it killed him.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ben woke up to the smell of bacon and coffee on Saturday morning. Groggy, he struggled for a few moments to remember why he was on the couch. When he did remember, a heavy tiredness settled over him. He sat up, and as he did, his father came into the living room with a mug in each hand.
“Hey. We raided your larder again.”
“Thanks. I smell that.” He took a cautious sip of the coffee, closing his eyes at the soothing warmth. “I know Mom’s worried. She always cooks when she’s worried.”
Owen sat beside him on the couch. “She always has. And we’re both worried. How do you feel?”
Ben looked down at his arm and shoulder. Colorful bruises had bloomed on each. “Probably about like I look.”
“That good, huh?”
They both snickered, but Ben’s humor didn’t last long. “What is it about her that makes me so stupid, Dad? This is the second time I’ve let her get to me.”
Owen rested a warm hand on the nape of Ben’s neck and squeezed gently. “It isn’t that you’re stupid. Never say that. And I don’t have any answers for you. John told us what happened. I’m so sorry, Ben.”
“So am I.”
“You think there’s any chance you’re missing something? I know I only saw her for an hour or so, but my gut instinct is usually dead on about people. Hearing what she did, it doesn’t fit.”
“No. It fits all too well, if you want the truth. A lot of things make sense now that didn’t before. Like why she was hanging around with someone like me in the first place.”
Ben could tell his father wasn’t convinced and wanted to argue, but Sarah came in then, and Owen let it go.
“Breakfast is ready. Get a shirt on and come eat.”
After they’d finished the meal, they offered to run him up to John’s to get his truck.
“Nah. I’ll catch him tomorrow, maybe bum a ride up to the farm for dinner and get the truck on the way home. I think I’ll just stick around here today. Maybe walk up to the library, if I feel like it. Be lazy for a change.”
He hugged them both tightly before they left. Once they were gone, he flopped down on the couch, wincing as the movement aggravated his injuries. He drifted off for a bit, just zoned out and let his mind wander. He didn’t think about anything in general and tried hard to not think about one thing in particular.
After a while, he got around and got cleaned up. He’d just gotten dressed in a T-shirt and cargo shorts when the phone rang.
“Benjamin, what’s this I hear about you breaking your wrist?” Emma’s drawl greeted him when he answered the call.
“Geez, word spreads fast. Where’d you hear that?”
“Mom and Dad stopped in to check on me, and so did John and Zanny and the boys, since I’m so close to popping now. Stopping by, I’d like to point out, is something you haven’t done for days. Weeks. Months!” She heaved a dramatic sigh. “Your little niece is going to be grown before I see you again at this rate, and she hasn’t even been born.”
Ben laughed. “Point taken. House arrest getting to you?”
“Driving me up the walls.” Emma had been advised to go on leave the week before because her doctor expected her to deliver much sooner than previous estimates. Ben could imagine that sitting still, doing nothing, wasn’t going over too well with his active sister. He felt a pang of guilt and acknowledged he’d not been as diligent in spending time with her as he should have been. “I’m sorry, Em. I’ve neglected you.”
“I’m just giving you a hard time. So how are you?” she asked.
“Sore as hell. Tell you what, why don’t I head your way? It’s not far. I can be there in fifteen minutes or so. We can spend some time together.”