He shifted beside her. She had an almost overwhelming urge to turn into his arms—to lean against him and cry her heart out on his sturdy shoulder.
When she found the courage to show her face, he was staring off at the mountains. “I guess it’s not really necessary for you to talk about it,” he murmured. “Going by the things Jeremy just said, I know you’ve been through a hell of a time.”
He spoke of the hell as though it were over. She wanted to correct him. It wasn’t over. Sometimes she wondered if it ever would be.
He turned his gaze to her. She wanted to look away, but couldn’t.
“Can I say just one thing?” he asked.
“Of course,” she said thinly.
His hard mouth tipped into a smile. He touched a fingertip to her cheek, brushing at a spot of wetness and then pushing back a tendril of her hair. Chloe instinctively wanted to shrink away, but something, she wasn’t sure what, held her fast.
“You did the right thing,” he said huskily. “By getting Jeremy out of it, I mean.”
A burning sensation came up the back of her throat, and she was afraid her eyes might fill with tears again.
“Normally, I have little if any respect for people who end a marriage over the illness of a spouse, but your situation was extraordinary. You did the right thing, Chloe. Children aren’t just a gift; they’re a God-given responsibility, and in cases of abuse, a mother should never—and I do mean never—let anything else come first, not even her husband.”
Tears did fill her eyes then. “Yes, well, that was a lesson I took a while learning. After Roger came home from the hospital, I stayed for almost five months, hoping he’d get better, that the—” She gulped to steady her voice. “You can’t stop hoping, you know? I told myself there might be postsurgery swelling, or that maybe the incisions deep inside hadn’t healed completely. He was such a good man before the accident, a wonderful man. We had a solid marriage.” She pressed her fingertips to her temples. “I was conditioned, I guess—to think in terms of always. It was so hard for me to end it, and because it was, I waited too long.”
“Five short months,” he corrected. He caught her chin on the edge of his hand and tipped her face up again so he could look into her eyes. “Five months, Chloe. If he was a good man before the accident, you owed him that much. What kind of woman waltzes out on an injured husband without giving him time to heal? And there’s not a damned thing wrong with being slow to give up on what was once a great marriage. Did you stay after the milk incident?”
“No, he—” She panted for oxygen. “He was choking him, and I couldn’t get him off. I knew then.” She averted her face, breaking the physical contact between them because it unsettled her so. “I filed for divorce the next morning. That didn’t entirely stop Roger from disrupting our lives—thus my decision to move here—but at least it was never Jeremy in his line of fire again.”
He nodded. “So, there, you see? When push came to shove, you jumped ship. Stop beating up on yourself.”
“It’s hard not to. When I see what it’s done to my son, it’s almost impossible not to.”
“You did your best. Jeremy’s out of it now. That’s the bottom line. You didn’t stay with his father and make him live like that for eighteen years.”
The bitterness in his voice brought Chloe’s head around. He met her regard evenly, his face set in grim lines. “My mother had her reasons for staying,” he whispered. “I don’t blame her, and I never will. But I can tell you this. I’d be carting around a lot less baggage if she had divorced him when I was Jeremy’s age.”
Having said that, he turned and went back inside the house, leaving her alone to digest what he’d said and to gather her composure. She fleetingly wondered how he had managed to zero in on the things that tormented her most. Even more bewildering, he’d succeeded in making her feel better.
Jeremy was still on the love seat with Rowdy when Chloe reentered the family room. The child gave her a shamefaced look. “I’m sorry, Mommy.”
“For what, sweetie?”
“For telling ’bout Daddy. It’s s’posed to be our secret, and I forgot.”
Searching her son’s troubled gaze, Chloe had cause to wonder if her decision to make their past a taboo subject with strangers wasn’t yet another count against her.
That was a worry for later, though. Ben entered the room just then. After taking in Jeremy’s downcast expression, he glanced questioningly at Chloe. “My mom’s still asleep. After lunch, she generally naps for two or three hours. I was wondering, would you and Jeremy like to play hooky with me and take a walk?” He gestured toward the kitchen. “You got so much done this morning, I can do the chores this afternoon, no problem.”
Chloe checked her watch. “Oh, I—”
“About a mile from here, there’s a pretty little creek, and I spotted a beaver dam there the other afternoon. I thought Jeremy might enjoy seeing it.”
“Can we, Mom?” Jeremy asked in a stage whisper. “Please?”
Chloe sighed. Her son knew just the right note of pleading to inject into his voice. She also knew that Ben had suggested this outing to cheer the child up, and she had to admit it was probably a good plan.
“It’s really not that far,” Ben assured her. “We can easily make it there and back, leaving you plenty of time to get to work.”
“Well . . .” After the conversation with him on the deck, she would have preferred to go home where she could lick her wounds in private, but she decided that would be selfish. A walk might be just what Jeremy needed to push the unpleasant memories from his mind. “Okay. Why not? I’ve never seen a beaver dam.”
For the next hour, Ben gave them a tour of his world. As they trailed behind him through the forest, he stopped occasionally to point out sights Chloe and her son might have overlooked.
“Look there, Jeremy,” he said, gesturing at the top of a dead tree. “See that nest? It belongs to a bald eagle.”
Just as he spoke, the mother bird swooped down to perch on the untidy collection of grass and small branches. Chloe would have sworn the eagle looked directly at them. Beautiful with a reddish-brown body and snow-white head, the raptor lifted her wings and did a half-turn, as though to show off for them.
“Oh,” Chloe said softly, her skin tingling with awe. “She’s fabulous, Ben. The bald eagle is our national bird, Jeremy.”
Jeremy stood there, head back, expression solemn. He kept his voice hushed. “Does she have babies up there?”
“Probably,” Ben replied. “And because she does, we really shouldn’t linger. No point in making her nervous.”
He struck off through the trees again, moving with a fluid grace that Chloe found amazing in so large a man. He was, she thought nonsensically, as sturdy as the huge Ponderosa pines that defined the terrain.
Soon Chloe heard the rushing sound of a stream. Ben held out a hand, signaling them to halt. Then, with an exaggerated lightness of step, he led them around a copse of manzanita. When the stream came into view, he crouched behind the brush, motioning for Chloe and Jeremy to do the same.
“There,” he said softly.
Just as he spoke, a beaver slapped the surface of the water. Jeremy jumped. Then he giggled. “Look, Mom!” he whispered.
Chloe was already looking. The beavers had impeded the water flow, creating a pool just above the dam. As she watched, three heads appeared. “It’s a family,” she exclaimed softly. “Oh, Jeremy, that’s a mama with her babies.”
His expression thoughtful and searching, Ben glanced at Chloe over the top of the child’s head. “Glad now that you came?”
“Oh, yes.”
Chloe could have stayed forever. The animals cavorted in the water, as agile as seals. The babies, still inexperienced at slapping their tails, seemed to be practicing the technique. Occasionally the mother demonstrated how to do it properly, sending up an impressive spray of water.
“That’s their danger signal,” Ben explained to Jeremy. “The mama bea
ver teaches them how when they’re very young. It’s important to their survival.”
“Wow.” Jeremy looked at Chloe. “Isn’t this cool, Mom?”
Ben glanced at his watch. “I guess it’s about time to head back if you’re going to make it to work on time.”
“Oh, darn,” Jeremy said, his voice ringing with regret. “I don’t wanna go.”
“We’ll come again,” Ben promised. “Fun’s over for today, though. Your mom will get in trouble if she’s late to work.”
“When can we come back?” Jeremy pressed.
Chloe expected Ben to put Jeremy off with a vague reply. Instead he said, “Tomorrow, if you like. I can always squeeze in a half hour to watch the wildlife.”
As they followed Ben back through the woods, Chloe studied him with a new understanding of who and what he was: not a mere wilderness expert, but as much a part of this rugged country as the animals that lived here.
When they came upon a rocky area, he grasped Chloe’s arm, took Jeremy’s hand, and guided them to a hollow under a boulder. “Shh,” he said as they approached. “No talking at all, Jeremy. Okay?”
The child nodded. And he kept to the rule, even after Ben gently lifted the end of a large rock to reveal a nest of baby chipmunks. They looked like newborn mice, their tiny pink bodies squirming in the soft, billowy collection of nesting material.
After allowing Jeremy to look his fill, Ben carefully returned the rock to its original position. As he straightened, Chloe yearned to ask how he had discovered the newborns. But, like Jeremy, she observed the rule of silence. At her questioning look, he smiled and grasped her arm again, this time more lightly, his fingertips trailing like whispers over the sensitive underside of her arm. The sensation made her nerves thrum, and something low in her belly thrilled in response. For just an instant, she tried to imagine how it might feel to have him touch her that way everywhere.
When she realized what she was thinking, a strong urge to escape crashed over her. She didn’t want to feel this way—couldn’t allow herself to feel this way. It was dangerous. She’d loved once—and trusted once. The very thought of making herself vulnerable like that again filled her with panic, an awful, clawing panic. Roger had been her prince, and then he’d become her jailor. Even though she knew it hadn’t been his fault, there was a part of her that couldn’t trust so easily again—a part of her that recoiled from any kind of physical closeness.
As though he sensed her need to escape, Ben stilled his hand, his palm and fingers radiating warmth into her flesh that spread in pulsing tingles to her shoulder and then into her torso. At the first shock, Chloe threw him a startled look, but before she could analyze the sensations rolling through her, she lost her ability to focus. The fear flowed from her like water from a sieve, and a delicious languor replaced it, making all her muscles relax. She felt like a wax candle going soft in a spill of sunlight, and she found herself leaning toward him.
He didn’t immediately release her as he led them away from the rocks. When he finally did turn loose, she felt oddly bereft. He fell into a walk with Jeremy at his heels. Chloe trailed several paces behind them.
“Those baby chipmunks were born much too late,” he said over his shoulder. “Usually they come before the snow melts. When they’re a bit older, I’ll bring nuts and corn for them to horde for winter. If left to their own devices at so young an age, they’ll never make it till next spring.”
“Are late births common?” Chloe rubbed her arms, still feeling oddly euphoric. She’d never tried any recreational drugs, but she imagined this was how they’d make her feel—light as air and absurdly happy. She couldn’t remember now why the touch of Ben’s hand on her arm had upset her. It was the oddest thing. “I thought Mother Nature orchestrated things more precisely.”
“Percentage-wise, it’s not common,” he replied, “but it does happen every year. Somehow the natural cycle gets bumped off course, the young are born too late, and they die when winter comes.”
Not for the first time, he stopped and lifted his face to the breeze. Chloe couldn’t shake the feeling that he was picking up scents on the wind that she couldn’t detect. Sometimes he got a distant look in his eyes that made her wonder if he was even aware of them beside him. He had described his grandfather as a deep and soulful man. Watching Ben now, Chloe wondered if he realized that he had also been describing himself.
“It’ll rain tonight. That will be good. The forest can use the moisture.”
Chloe studied the clear sky. “What makes you think it’ll rain? I don’t see any clouds blowing in.”
“Can’t you smell it in the air?”
Chloe couldn’t, but she had no doubt that he could.
As they continued the return trek to the ridge, she noticed Jeremy mimicking Ben’s every move. Where the man stepped, the child stepped. When Ben stopped to sniff the air, Jeremy tipped his head back, too. Chloe could understand her son’s enthrallment. Ben Longtree was everything most little boys yearned to become—big and strong and fearless.
“Which way is north?” he asked Jeremy about halfway down the incline. When the child couldn’t say, he showed him how the moss grew on the north side of the trees. “Which way is water?” he asked another time. When Jeremy frowned, Ben said, “Always head downhill if you’re lost and thirsty. Eventually you’ll find water if you don’t come to a road first. Either way, you’ll eventually get a drink.” A few minutes later, he began pointing to dry deadfall that would easily ignite. “Sometime soon, I’ll show you how to make a fire without matches,” he promised. “You can also use that deadfall to build a temporary shelter. If you ever get stranded in the woods, build a windbreak and roof with limbs, then gather pine needles to make a bed. In a pinch, they’re nearly as good as a blanket. Just pile them in a heap and burrow in for the night, like our brother the bear.”
“The bear’s not my brother!” Jeremy exclaimed with a giggle.
“Sure he is.” With a sweep of his arm, Ben indicated the forest. “You’re related to everything, even the trees and grass. The Shoshones always understood that. Scientists are proving now that they were absolutely right. Everything’s made from the same tiny particles.”
Jeremy’s eyes went wide. “Everything?”
“God just put the particles together differently to create bears and trees and other things in our world. We aren’t alike on the outside, and yet, essentially, we’re the same. I am in you, and you are in me, and we are in the animals and the trees. Someday, I hope all of mankind will come full circle back to the basic truths that Jesus tried to teach and the Shoshones knew without ever having met Him—that we’re all one with each other, millions of tiny pieces in a huge jigsaw puzzle. If we destroy just one of the pieces, we risk destroying it all.”
“Is that how come you don’t eat animals, ’cause you think they’re your brothers and sisters?”
Ben chuckled. “Vegetarianism is a personal choice. As long as there are supermarkets and I can fill my cupboards with other good foods that keep me healthy and fit, I prefer not to eat animals, that’s all.”
“What if all the stores closed?”
Ben laughed again. “Well, in that case, I would hunt as my forefathers did. And, following their example, I would say thanks to the animal’s spirit for giving its life to sustain me. First, though, I think I’d try my hand at gardening.”
Ben suddenly dropped to a crouch. Gathering Jeremy close to his side, he pointed to some brush just ahead of them. “Look,” he said softly.
A tiny fawn, almost invisible against a backdrop of multicolored leaves, stood stock-still, staring at them. Chloe hadn’t noticed the fawn until Ben pointed it out, but she couldn’t shake the feeling he’d known it was there all along.
The child gazed raptly at the fawn. He’d seen pictures of baby deer, and so had Chloe, but nothing compared to actually coming upon one in the forest. The small animal was exquisitely formed. Its huge brown eyes reminded Chloe of Jeremy’s. Oddly, the little
guy didn’t seem frightened. Chloe decided that fear of humans might be a learned behavior.
Ben made a shrill bleating sound. Chloe stared at his throat, watching the tendons work in a strange undulation to produce the noise. She was incredulous when the fawn took a faltering step forward. The baby deer seemed far more worried about Chloe than he was about Ben and Jeremy. She held her breath and stood absolutely still. One hesitant step after another, the fawn kept coming.
When the baby finally reached them, Ben reached out a big hand and caressed its fragile body.
“You can pet him if you like, Jeremy.”
“Won’t he be scared?” Jeremy whispered.
“Has he reason to be?”
Jeremy shook his head.
“Well, then, I don’t think he will be.”
Jeremy thrust out a hand to touch the fawn’s forehead. “Hi, baby deer.”
The fawn smelled Jeremy’s hand. And then, to both Chloe’s and her son’s surprise, the youngster caught one of the child’s fingers in his mouth and began to suckle. Jeremy giggled. “He thinks I’m his mom.”
“No. He understands who his mama is. She has left him for a bit, probably to forage for food. He’s supposed to stay hidden while she’s gone, but he knows me and isn’t afraid, so he’s breaking the rules.”
“Will his mom be mad?”
“No. She knows me, too. She comes to the house a lot to eat cracked corn. He understands that it’s okay to break the rules with me.”
The fawn grabbed another of Jeremy’s small fingers.
“He’s getting your taste and scent.” Ben nudged the child forward. “If you give him your breath, he’ll always remember you.”
“How can I give him my breath?”
“Just breathe into his nostrils.”
“But my mom says animals got germs.”
“They do, and so do we. His won’t make you sick. Share your breath with him. When he’s an antlered buck, he’ll remember, and he won’t be afraid if he sees you in the woods.”
Only by Your Touch Page 16