What Comes Next

by Desni Dantone

  I squeeze my eyes shut against the image burned into my memory of what happened next.

  “The explosions came out of nowhere. Too many to count, they all went off one after another, right on top of the platoon. I dropped, and crawled toward them as far as I could. The smoke . . . the flames . . . they were so strong, and it was too late for most of them. It took me awhile to find Luke in the smoke. By then the attack was over. Nothing was left of our platoon, and Luke . . .” My eyes drift up to meet Beth’s when I say the next words I need to say.

  “He was hurt bad,” I tell her. “We could hear the enemy coming through the brush. I tried to pull him behind the rock, to take cover, but they were on us too fast. They came in behind me. Luke saw them first, over my shoulder. I didn’t see what he saw, but he lurched up, shoved me to the ground at the same time one of them came at us with a bayonet. He took the blade intended for me while another one cracked me on the back of the head with the butt of a rifle. I don’t remember anything after that.

  “Luke survived another three days. There were four of us then, in the black hole that would remain our prison cell. We had no medical supplies, little food and water. There wasn’t anything I could do. I couldn’t . . .” My eyes water at the vivid memory of hearing my friend take his last breaths in the darkness of that godawful hole. In an effort to keep myself from falling farther into the grief—where I know I will remain for days—I dig into my pocket to show Beth what I came here to give her. “Before he died, he gave me this. It’s not finished, and that’s why he didn’t mail it that morning before the ambush, but he wanted you to have it.”

  I reach across the room, and her trembling fingers take the crumbled and blood-stained paper containing Luke’s last words from me.

  “I’m sorry.” My voice cracks when I tell her what I’ve waited a year to tell her. “I’m sorry he died saving my life.” Tears run freely from her eyes when she meets my gaze. Her mouth opens, then shuts wordlessly. “I wish it could have been the other way around,” I tell her in absolute honesty.

  She swats away the tears on her face before standing. Her hands reach out to take mine as she approaches me. “Luke wouldn’t have wanted that. He would want you to make the most of the life you’ve been given.” One corner of her mouth lifts into a halfhearted smile. “The life he gave you.”

  At her words, I lower my head in shame. “I’m afraid I’ve already let him down.”

  “It’s not too late,” she tells me. “I knew, long before you showed up here today, that my Luke was gone. I felt it, despite what the Army told me. But I have a beautiful little boy that I need to live for. He deserves the best out of me, as his daddy would expect me to give. It took me months, but once I realized that, I haven’t stopped living for him, or for myself. You’ll do the same.”

  I absorb her heartfelt words with a nod. I don’t only understand them, but they resonate with me on a deep level. In talking about herself, she could have been talking about me. Her words were that spot on.

  “We don’t have much,” she continues softly. “But Junior and I have each other, and I believe you . . .” Her eyes drop to my hands, where they are clasped in hers, and her mouth twists into a concerned grimace. “I thought you—Luke told me you were getting married.”

  For the first time since I stepped into Luke’s house, I crack a small grin at the thought of Ana. “I’m working on it.”

  Beth responds with a subtle smile. “Well, I hope it works out for you. I hope you find that happiness.”

  “Yeah.” I glance around the house, and decide to take the opportunity she’s given me to bring up the other reason I came here today. “In fact, I could use your help with that.”

  Beth’s brow furrows in confusion. “My help?”

  I nod eagerly. “I have a proposition for you, if you’d like to hear it.”

  For the next two days, I wake to find a note posted to the outside of the door. I have no idea how Ben is doing it, since his brother has confirmed that he is definitely out of town, but I love the short messages he’s been leaving.

  From the hint of annoyance on Mitch’s face when I ask him about the notes, I suspect he has been given the task of leaving them every morning while Ben is gone. He won’t admit it to me when I track him down Wednesday evening, but the simple fact that he’s in Stone Creek, and has been staying at his mama’s house every night this week, is reason enough to suspect him.

  While Mitch has been lurking around, I’ve seen no sign of Ben for two days. Other than his sweet messages, of course.

  Thursday morning, which will be the third day he’s been gone, there is no note waiting for me. I’m initially disappointed, until I realize the absence of a note may mean that he is back. I spend the morning in nervous anticipation before Jen picks me up in her car for our arranged lunch date at The Pit.

  “Still no Ben, huh?” she asks me over the top of her menu once we’re seated. Though I can’t see the lower half of her face, I suspect there’s a teasing smile on her lips.

  “No. Not yet,” I grumble.

  “Maybe Ms. Sawyer has an idea where he is, and when he’ll be back.” Her words sound like a scripted line, and I lower my menu to find her looking pointedly over my shoulder. I turn to follow her gaze, and find Ben’s mama smiling down at me.

  “Ana . . .” She blinks against the wetness in her eyes, and holds a hand out to me. I take it, and stand to throw myself into the arms of the woman that was to be my mother-in-law. “I am so relieved that you’re okay, darlin’. I can’t tell you how happy I am that you came back.”

  “I’m sorry,” I mumble against her shoulder. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t . . .”

  “Oh, don’t you worry about that now,” she assures me softly, before pushing me back and forcing me to look her in the eyes. “There wasn’t a single day that I questioned your reasons for leaving. I understood . . . completely. My only concern was over your well-being, and now I don’t have to worry about that any longer.”

  I give her a grateful smile. “Thank you for understanding.”

  “No, honey. I should be thanking you for bringing my son back.” She releases me to pull a folded piece of paper from the pocket of her apron. “I was supposed to leave this for you this afternoon, once I get off work, but I don’t see the harm in giving it to you a few hours early.”

  I recognize the paper, and the manner in which it is folded. “You’ve been leaving the notes?”

  Ms. Sawyer’s eyes twinkle as she hands the paper over. She doesn’t answer me, but she doesn’t need to. She backs away with a beaming smile, and leaves me to read today’s message from Ben.

  Ana –

  I’m back in town, but I still have a few things to take care of. I’m looking forward to seeing you in a few days, if everything works out the way I hope it will.

  I’m even more nervous to see you now than I was the night I broke into your room when I was eighteen. Remember that? It worked out well in the end then, and I have faith that it will again.

  Love,

  Ben

  I spend the entire lunch trying to decipher the potential meaning behind his words. Jen is no help, and seems to find unnecessary pleasure in my confusion. She also has no explanation as to why I won’t see him today, when he’s admitted that he is back. Why wait a few more days? And why is he so nervous about seeing me?

  I’m no closer to answering either question by the time Jen drops me off at the farm an hour later. The phone rings the moment I walk into the house. First phone call since I had the phones turned on, and the shrill noise takes me by surprise at first.

  An even bigger surprise is waiting for me when I take the call.

  “Ms. Maxwell?” a nasal voice confirms.

  “Yes.”

  “This is Ron Black from Beaufort Real Estate,” the man informs me. “I’ve got some good news for you. Your property was sold early this morning.”

  “What?” My mouth drops. No one has even come to look at it.
They told me it might take months with the local housing market to find potential buyers. “Who bought it?”

  I hear the sound of papers being shuffled through the line as Mr. Black mumbles to himself. Finally, he says, “I can’t find that information right now, but I can assure you that it’s a done deal. The buyer is producing cash for the purchase. They want a quick sale, if possible, as they’re coming from out of town and are in need of the home as quickly as possible.”

  “How quickly are we talking about?”

  “How soon can you be moved out?” Mr. Black counters. “They’re driving in this weekend, from the sound of it, to sign the paperwork.”

  “This weekend? I . . . I can’t . . .” I can’t possibly be moved out in two or three days. I’ll need manpower that I don’t have. Sure, I can always ask Mitch and Jen. Of course, there’s Ben, if he ever shows up. There isn’t much I plan to take with me. I suppose it isn’t impossible. “I’ll do my best to be out this weekend, Mr. Black.”

  “Fantastic. I’ll let the buyer know . . . once I find his information of course.”

  As soon as I hang up with the realtor, I call Jen. She promptly returns to help me sort through the things I want to take with me. I’ve already decided to leave most of the large furniture with the house, so there’s not much heavy lifting for us to do. But where will I go? Where will I live? Sleep? Put the few things I wish to keep?

  “My dad’s got plenty of room in his garage for you to store your stuff,” Jen offers as she wraps a plate of Ma’s good china in a towel. “I know he won’t mind.”

  “Can I squeeze into his garage too?”

  Jen laughs at my lighthearted query. “Why don’t you just stay with Ben?”

  My eyes grow wide. “Oh, yeah, right,҆cause that won’t get the whole town talking or anything.”

  “Who cares what anyone says? Everyone knows you two are going to wind up together anyway. What’s the big deal?”

  “I don’t know,” I mutter, and gingerly place a dish into the box. “Maybe because I haven’t seen him in a few days, and things weren’t exactly okay when he left. We might not—”

  “Stop right there,” Jen cuts me off. “You are going to end up together. If anything, I’d think those little notes he’s been leaving would have reassured you that things are okay between you. He just has some stuff to work out before—” She cuts herself off abruptly, and turns her back to me as she wraps a dish at the counter.

  “Before what?”

  Her shoulders shrug, and I notice she’s incredibly focused on wrapping the china. Far more than necessary.

  “Jen, tell me what you know,” I say to her back.

  “I don’t . . . nothing. Not really,” she stutters as she spins around. “I think he just wants to get himself right before he can promise you the future he wants to give you.”

  I narrow a suspicious set of eyes on my friend. “What makes you think that?”

  “I hear things. I see things. I’m much more perceptive than you think I am.” She avoids eye contact as she places the wrapped dish in the box.

  “Uh-huh.” Suspecting I’m not going to get a full explanation out of her, I drop the questioning. I can’t help but suspect that she knows more than she’s telling me. But what?

  “Anyway . . .” She waves a dismissive hand at me. “You can come stay with me if you want. At least until you figure out what you’re going to do.”

  Jen returns to help me again on Friday. By late afternoon, we have nearly all the small stuff we can handle by ourselves packed away. I call Ms. Sawyer, and she gladly promises to help . . . and bring along some muscle reinforcement.

  While I’m grateful for the help when Mitch shows up twenty minutes later with his mama, I’m a little discouraged it’s not Ben. That discouragement plants a seed that grows into a tangled vine of resentment, frustration, and anger by the time we unload the last of the boxes in Jen’s father’s garage.

  Ben is back. I know he is, or so he wrote in his note. So where is he?

  After hours of biting my tongue, I snap on Mitch when we get back to the farm. I grab his shoulder when he turns to follow his mama and Jen into the house, and turn him to me.

  “Where is your brother?” I demand. His lips purse as he gazes down at me in confusion. “You know, about so tall”—I hold my hand up above my head—“and built like you. He even looks a lot like you, sounds like you . . .”

  “Sure you’re not talking about me, sweetheart? Because I’m right here.”

  “Cut the crap, Mitch. Where is he?”

  He tugs on the collar of his shirt, and lifts a carefree shoulder. “Haven’t seen him.”

  “You’re lying.” A ball of unease settles into my stomach. What is everyone afraid to tell me? Am I wrong in thinking we had a chance to rebuild what we once had? Have I made a huge mistake in deciding to stay here for Ben?

  “No, seriously,” Mitch insists. “I haven’t seen him since early yesterday. Said he had some stuff to take care of.”

  Again with this stuff he has to take care of. What is this stuff? Not knowing, and not being kept in the loop while he’s off doing whatever he’s doing, only worries me more. What is it that he’s not telling me?

  What is it that no one is telling me? I have a strange feeling that they all know a lot more than they’re letting on. Tomorrow I’ll have to find out for myself what it is that they’re keeping from me.

  I spend my last night in the house alone. Again. Damn Ben Sawyer and the stuff he’s taking care of. Damn it all because I just want him to be here. Despite my irritation with him, I miss him.

  Jen comes over early Saturday morning to help me pack up the last few things I’m taking with me to her parent’s house. While I’m carrying an armload of clothes to her car, Mitch’s yellow Camaro speeds up the driveway.

  He jumps out of the car with a broad smile on his face as I fan away the cloud of dust he tossed in the air behind him. “Mornin’, sweetheart.”

  “What are you doing here?” I cough.

  “Came to deliver your mail, of course.” He holds out a folded piece of paper identical to the four others I have collected over the past week.

  “Another note? Am I ever going to get a face-to-face explanation from him?”

  Mitch lifts one shoulder, and presses the paper into my reluctant hand. I toss my clothes into the backseat of Jen’s car with a sigh, and lean against the door as I unfold the note. Mitch waits patiently beside me as I take my time reading Ben’s words to me.

  Ana –

  Few were given the opportunity to witness our love grow, but one was with us nearly every drive of the way.

  Though she has long faded from her former red glory, the memories she holds remain. If you want more of them, you’ll have to ask her.

  I read the letter twice to make sure I’m interpreting it correctly. Even then, I’m not sure I understand. Holding the paper out to Mitch, I ask, “What’s this all about?”

  He shrugs lazily. “I don’t have the answers, honey. He said you would know.”

  “I think I do—I just . . .” I don’t understand what this is all about. “There’s another one of these notes somewhere?”

  He nods and waves his arm at the Camaro. “I am here to act as your chauffer. You just have to tell me where to go.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I’m supposed to get fifty bucks out of this, so yeah . . . seriously. Let’s go.”

  I glance toward the house, and find Jen watching from the doorway with a satisfied smile on her face. “You knew about this, didn’t you?”

  “My lips are sealed,” she shouts before ceremoniously pinching her lips shut.

  “Let’s go!” Mitch orders from the open door of his Camaro. “We’re on a schedule here.”

  Despite my confusion, there’s a smile on my face when I climb into the car and instruct Mitch to take me to his mama’s house. As predicted, that is where I find Old Red, parked in the driveway. Mitch trails behind me from a safe di
stance as I race toward the familiar truck, jerk the passenger side door open, and sweep my gaze around the interior.

  All of her wonderful memories wash over me, and I pause my search for another note to enjoy them all. From the fights we had to the kisses we shared, every moment spent in Old Red is special to me. None more special than the night Ben reminds me of next.

  Ana –

  Some places hold specific meanings to different people.

  One place permanently changed for me the night Old Red and I shared it with you.

  You wanted to see the world, and you started your tour here.

  I want to be with you when you see it all.

  I back out of the truck to find Mitch watching me curiously from a few feet away. “Where to next?” he asks me.

  “The bluffs.” I shut the door and start toward the Camaro. I nearly reach the car before I realize Mitch isn’t following me. I stop to look behind me, and find him gawking at me with wide eyes. “What?”

  A slow grin turns his lips up. “My brother took you to the bluffs?”

  I shrug. “We’ve been there a few times.” Yes, I remember what all the high school kids use the bluffs for. Yes, I remember what Ben and I used the location for a few times ourselves. I always assumed Mitch knew Ben and I were sneaking around the weeks before he left. From the look of surprise on his face now, I determine that he never knew.

  He looks relieved when he sighs, “Oh, thank God.” I watch as he hurries to catch up, and gets in behind the wheel. He glances over to find me silently questioning him before he offers an explanation. “All that time, I thought my poor brother died without sleeping with you first.”

  I turn to look out the windshield with a grimace. “Sorry I asked.”

  Mitch pats my leg with one hand while shifting into reverse with the other. “I’m not. Hell no, I’m definitely not now.”