Bed, Breakfast, and Beyond

by Bonnie Gardner

  She could, she supposed, divert Vanessa's attention by asking her about her date with J. R. She dropped her robe, stepped into the tub, and turned on the water. Without waiting for the warm water to work its way through the pipes, she ducked into the chilly, stinging spray.

  If nothing else, the cool water would clear her head. Though, she had to admit, as the water warmed and poured over her body, she felt remarkably rested and clear-headed this morning. She wished she could blame her confusion on lack of sleep, but in spite of the thousands of questions that bounced around inside her, her brain was working properly.

  So what if she'd slept with a man last night? She was a thoroughly modern woman. It was the twenty-first century. Other people did that all the time. But most women remember it when they make love, she reminded herself.

  She dumped a handful of shampoo onto her hair and started to lather. It wouldn't have bothered her so much if she'd willingly and knowingly slept with Ben Chastain. It was the notion that she hadn't remembered that disturbed. Well, maybe not even that. It was that Ben claimed Hamilton Jordan had appropriated his body and Cory had claimed hers that was so unsettling.

  It was too weird.

  And what was weirder still was that she was actually starting to believe it.

  ****

  He wasn't sure what kind of reception he would get this morning, but he certainly wouldn't slink out like somebody with something to hide. Ben stuffed his gear into his bag and made one last pass around the room to see what he'd left behind. The only things remaining were the soiled sheet from the other room, one of Corrie's sandals, and a scrap of silk that passed for panties. He folded the linens and stuffed the personal articles inside the folds. He'd have to get them to Corrie without Vanessa knowing.

  Then he remembered the bed. If Vanessa noticed that it hadn't been slept in, she'd be sure to ask questions. Questions that Corrie would certainly not want to answer. He placed the folded sheets on top of his carryall, grabbed the spread and gave it a yank. Then he tipped one pillow to the floor and mussed the covers till they had the normal morning look. That should fool Vanessa. After all, she wouldn't be looking for anything.

  Unless Corrie told her about what had happened the night before. And Ben was pretty sure she wouldn't do that.

  Ben drew in a deep breath and sighed heavily, or maybe he groaned. All he knew was that he had a class to teach that morning, and it was a long drive back to campus. What he really needed to do was square things with Corrie, not go slinking home as if he'd done something wrong. With as much enthusiasm as a man heading for his execution, Ben picked up his bag and the sheets and opened the door.

  The usual aroma of chicory-flavored coffee filled the air, and for a moment, Ben had the sensation that everything would be all right.

  That was until he stepped into the large, homey kitchen. Corrie entered through the opposite door at the same time and stopped dead in her tracks. So far, Vanessa — who was busy stirring grits at the stove — hadn't noticed anything amiss, and Ben wanted to make sure that she didn't. "Good morning, Vanessa, Corrie. Did the storm bother you last night?"

  Corrie managed an anemic smile and picked up the suggestion. "I slept fine," she answered. "The only problem I had was that I slept too well with the rain drumming outside my window. That and the fact that the power went off and kept my alarm from waking me."

  "If the generator had been working, we wouldn't have had that problem," Vanessa commented as she bent to take a pan of biscuits from the stove.

  "Well, the power's on now. And once that part for the generator comes in, we'll be back in business," Corrie murmured as she poured herself a cup of coffee and brought it to her lips.

  Vanessa handed Ben a cup of rich, dark brew and motioned toward the fixings. "Help yourself while I get the rest of this on the table."

  Ben did as he was told, wondering at the same time how he was going to slip the telltale sheet and clothes to Corrie. He'd left them out in the lobby by the registration desk for now, but he'd have to get them to Corrie before he left.

  "Did you notice any damage on the way in?" He stirred sugar and milk into his coffee and took a swig as he sat across from Corrie.

  "Not too much," Vanessa said as she scooped scrambled eggs mixed with ham and cheese onto three plates and brought them to the butcher block table. "There are limbs down everywhere, and a crew from the electric company was just finishing up replacing a box on the pole down by the main road. Cleanup will be quick." She brought the biscuits and grits to the table and scooted in beside Corrie.

  "Guess that generator'll come in handy in the future," Ben mumbled, more to fill in a break in the conversation than anything. He had to keep Vanessa from asking the wrong questions.

  Ben ate his food quickly, barely noticing how it tasted. He had a class to teach, and he had to talk to Corrie — alone. He glanced at his watch. And very little time left with which to accomplish either. He swallowed the last of his food and pushed his plate away. "I hate to eat and run out on you ladies this morning, but I have a class at ten o'clock. If I could settle up my bill now, I'll be on my way."

  Corrie looked up from her plate where she'd been doing little more than moving her food around from one spot to another. "I'll take care of it." She pushed her stool back so quickly that it tipped over. "Oops," she murmured. "Guess I'm not the most graceful person in the morning." She propped up the stool and headed for the interior door. "I'll meet you at the front desk."

  Ben wondered why she felt she had to go separately. She could just as well have walked around with him or invited him to go through with her. But he didn't ask any questions. He had enough to ask her later in private. He turned to Vanessa and smiled. "Well," he announced. "Have I been a good guinea pig for you to practice on?"

  Vanessa grinned. "Guess so. You haven't died."

  "Was there any danger of that?"

  "No," Vanessa answered thoughtfully, looking at the door Corrie had passed through. "No reason at all."

  ****

  Corrie stood inside the office and took a couple of deep breaths, counted to ten, and took a couple more. She couldn't understand why her heart was fluttering so at the thought of talking to Ben Chastain. Or was it the thought of saying goodbye?

  She ought to be thinking, good riddance, but snatches of a half-remembered dream teased at the corners of her mind. If it weren't for Cory and Ham, there could have been something between her and Ben. She had felt the beginnings of something as they'd cooked pasta in the kitchen on Friday and eaten seafood at the restaurant in town last night.

  But that chance was gone, or would be once Ben paid his bill and went out the door and on with his life. He'd gotten a doozy of a story. If that didn't make a great ending for his book, nothing would.

  If only it weren't about her.

  She drew in another long breath and pushed open the door.

  Ben was standing there, a folded sheet in his hands, a sheepish look on his face.

  "You didn't have to bring the linens down, Ben. Vanessa'd get 'em when she goes up to do up your room." Corrie reached under the counter for her receipt box.

  "I think you should see what's folded up inside," Ben answered carefully and thrust the sheet toward Corrie.

  She took it and glanced between the folds. "Oh." She felt her face turn six shades of red. "I'll take care of this right now." Corrie snatched up the sheets and incriminating pair of panties, then turned and fled to her private quarters and tossed the new bundle next to the rest of last night's clothes on the bottom of her closet. She hurried back.

  "Do you want to pay cash or go ahead and keep it on your credit card?" she asked, trying to sound businesslike as she re-entered the registration area. She plucked the credit card receipt from the box and placed it on the counter.

  "I'll keep it on my card. Did you add in the cost of the water pitcher?"

  Corrie shook her head. "It isn't necessary. It was only a reproduction. Besides, you didn't brea—" She couldn't believe s
he'd just said that. Did she really think that one of the ghosts had broken that pitcher?

  Ben chuckled. "Looks like I've made a believer out of you after all." His smile faded. "Look. I don't know how to bring this up, but somebody has to." He glanced around as if scouting for prying eyes or listening ears.

  He cleared his throat. "About last night." He paused, and Corrie felt as though the interval was an eternity. "I normally use protection when I make love to a woman, but Ham didn't."

  Corrie's heart missed a beat.

  Chapter Eleven

  Corrie looked as though she'd been whacked on the head with a baseball bat. Ben couldn't blame her for feeling stunned; it hadn't exactly rested well with him either when he'd realized. But did she have to stand there looking like a fish gasping for air?

  He hoped she'd say something to reassure him, but she just looked at him, unblinking as if her brain had shut down and no one was home.

  He glanced in the direction Vanessa would likely come from then took Corrie's hand. He lowered his voice. "You don't have to worry about disease from me. I've always been careful." He swallowed. "But, just in case… you turn up pregnant, I want you to know that I take my responsibilities seriously."

  Corrie snatched her hand away and drew in a deep breath. Her shocked expression changed to one of indignation. "I can assure you, Doctor Chastain, that I am quite capable of providing for myself and a child, should there be one. I wasn't an unsuspecting virgin last night. I'm prepared for the consequences of my actions."

  Ben looked down at the surface of the polished wooden desk. He mentally traced the pattern of the grain while he tried to think of something to say. He hadn't expected Corrie's indignant outburst. He didn't know what he'd expected, but he couldn't help thinking that he should have gotten some credit for being man enough to want to shoulder his responsibility.

  He drew in a deep breath and let it slowly out. He guessed there wasn't any point in hanging around. He should leave, but something deep inside him wouldn't let him go. And he didn't think it had anything to do with Hamilton Jordan. He bent to pick up his bag. "I'm outta here," he said when he straightened. He turned for the door.

  "Wait!"

  Ben stopped, hoping that Corrie had softened her stance. He didn't know what he was hoping for.

  "You forgot your credit card receipt."

  That wasn't it. Disappointed, Ben turned. Corrie came around the desk and headed toward him. She waved the receipt as if it were a flag of truce.

  He should have stepped toward her, met her halfway, but he held his ground. He'd already tried to make his peace after what had happened last night. It was Corrie's turn now. Let her come to him.

  "You'll need this for your records," she murmured as she reached him. "I'm sure you'll be able to deduct your stay here as a business expense." Corrie thrust the flimsy slip of paper toward him.

  "Yeah. I guess I will." Ben took the receipt and jammed it into his pocket. He turned. He had to go. He barely had time to get to campus before his class. It was best to cut his losses now while he still could. He took one step backward toward the door.

  "Ben?" Corrie's face wore a wistful, apologetic expression, and Ben wondered what it meant.

  "I'll call you when… if…." Her voice faltered. "I'll let you know." She started to turn.

  Ben wanted to go, but he knew he couldn't leave things the way they were. They had started something this weekend, and if the ghosts hadn't intervened, who knew what might have developed? At a more normal pace, maybe. But, Ben knew that the seeds of something had been sown. Not a baby, but the beginning of something else. And he didn't want to see it wither before it had a chance.

  "Corrie?"

  She turned, a hopeful look on her face, an expression that caused hope to bloom within him. "Yes?"

  "I don't want it to end like this," he whispered. He reached for her small hand and drew her to him.

  Corrie looked up at him, her green eyes wide and questioning, but she didn't pull away. She seemed to be waiting for him to make a move.

  So he did.

  Ben touched a finger to her chin and tipped her face gently toward his. He felt her sigh as he bent his face lower. Then he kissed her.

  ****

  "Oh, Ham. Do you realize what we have done?" Cory whispered as she gazed down from the gallery.

  Ham glanced at his wife and back from the couple locked in an embrace below them. "Yes, I think I do."

  "We have compromised them. Now we must make it right."

  "But how? Dr. Chastain will leave and that will have to be the end of it." Ham tried to avert his eyes from the tender scene.

  Cory sighed, her breast rising and falling with the gesture. "That's what I'm afraid of. He will go and it will be the end of it."

  "Maybe that's the way it should be," Ham replied with a patient sigh.

  "No, Ham. Look at them. Do they look like people who hope to never see one and other again? No. Look how she clings to him. And Ben. He makes no effort to go, though he has to teach his class." She watched as the kiss deepened. "Don't you remember what Ben said?"

  "He said many things, Cory," Ham answered as patiently as he could. "Tell me just which speech you mean."

  "Remember when he explained to Corrine that he thought we were bound to this house because we had unfinished business."

  "Yes, of course, but—"

  "We thought that the desire to consummate our love was what kept us here." Cory spread her arms wide and slowly turned. "But, as you can see, we haven't gone."

  "So?"

  "We still have more to do."

  Ham expelled a frustrated sigh. "And what do you propose that is?"

  "I think we have to make it right with Corrie and Ben." Cory glanced down at the couple, no longer kissing, but gazing longingly into each other's eyes. "We have to ensure that they do not end it today. We must let them have a chance at their own happiness."

  "But, look at them, Cory. They don't look like a couple who want to part."

  Cory stamped her foot in a futile, soundless gesture. "Oh, Ham," she cried impatiently. "Don't you see? They are both stubborn people. She has refused his help. He is a proud man. He will not beg. If he goes, he won't return."

  "Unless Corrie asks him to come."

  "Yes. And I intend to make certain she does. But you have to do your part too."

  "What can I do? The man is going to leave. I can't. I'm bound here."

  "Perhaps, you can leave."

  Ham looked at her. "You mean …?"

  "Yes. You must go with him."

  "But, Cory. It would mean being apart from you."

  "I know, Ham. But only for a little while. If you go with Ben, you'll be able to make him bring you back all the faster."

  "Cory, Ben knows what is going on. He will resist me."

  Cory smiled. "He may, at first, but look at him."

  Ham turned his gaze back to the couple by the door. They were no longer kissing; they'd broken their embrace. Though Ben had taken another step toward the door, they still clung to each other's hands.

  "Does that look like a man who wants to leave? He doesn't want to go, but he must."

  "And when he's ready, he'll come back."

  Cory let out an exasperated sigh. "Oh, isn't that just like a man? Don't you see? He's proud. Once he's gone, he'll wait for Corrie to make the first concession."

  "But Corrie is as independent as Ben is proud. She won't because she'll see it as a sign of weakness," Ham concluded.

  "Yes. So it's up to us to make certain that each of them remains open to the other. So, Ham dearest, though it will pain me for us to part, you must go with him. To make certain he returns."

  Ham groaned. "All right. I'll try. But if I can't change his mind about Corrie, I will make certain that he brings me back to you."

  Cory smiled. "I know you will, Ham. I know." She looked down again and saw that Corrie and Ben had released hands, and Ben had opened the door. "Look," she announced. "You must
hurry."

  "But, Cory—"

  "It's best that we don't prolong this, for ourselves as well as for them." Cory made a shooing motion. "Go."

  Ham shot down to the lower floor and stepped into Ben's shadow. He turned his head upward and looked at Cory. "I love you," he called.

  Then he stepped forward, and he melted into Ben.

  ****

  Corrie stood in the open doorway and watched as Ben drove away. In the few days that he had been there, she felt he had come to belong. Now that he was gone, the place already seemed empty. She watched until the red Mustang disappeared around the bend in the lane, and she lingered until she could no longer hear the crunch of the tires or the purr of the well-tuned engine.

  Now he seemed truly, irrevocably gone.

  She turned and closed the door and walked slowly back to the desk, picked up the guest register, opened to the first page, and ran her finger over the single entry. Ben Chastain. Her first customer.

  Corrie sighed, carefully closed the book, and hugged it to her chest.

  "The doctor gone?"

  She almost dropped it, but she recovered and set the book carefully on the desk. Corrie mustered up a smile and turned to Vanessa. "Yep. All packed up and checked out." Her gaze flickered toward the window, but she quickly brought it back around.

  "I guess it went pretty well as far as a dress rehearsal goes," Vanessa commented as she leaned against the door that led into the office. "Only had one catastrophe."

  "Catastrophe?"

  "The power going off and no generator."

  "Hmmm?" Corrie stared at the picture of Cory and Ham.

  "Earth to Corrie. Yoo hoo. Is anybody home?" Vanessa snapped her fingers in front of Corrie's face.

  Startled, Corrie stepped back. "Why did you do that?"

  "Girl, you were off on Jupiter or something." Vanessa stood with her hands on her hips, an accusing expression on her face.

  "I was thinking about something," Corrie answered defensively.

  Vanessa glanced at the likeness of Ham that looked so remarkably like Ben Chastain. "Yeah. I reckon you were. You going to tell me how your date went? Or am I going to have to torture it out of you?"