by C. J. Scott
Ben and I walked side-by-side back to the house, not speaking. My heart hurt. Something had happened between us as we made love in the stables. We'd moved beyond lust to something more precious and rare. We'd connected on a deep level. I'd touched his soul, and he'd held mine in the palm of his hand.
Until I'd told him Dad was a cop. I felt like a crowbar had prized us apart and a huge wedge had lodged between us. He'd said that nothing was wrong, but I knew it was. I just knew.
We parted with sad, somewhat awkward smiles at the staircase. He went up to change and I sought out Jane. I found her in the kitchen.
"You're wet," she said, filling the kettle.
"Very observant, Einstein, what was your first clue?"
"Ha ha. Where's Ben?"
"Getting changed." I plopped down on a chair and buried my face in my hands. I didn't cry.
I was too numb for that.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"I don't know. Nothing maybe." I lowered my hands and gave her a reassuring smile.
She sat opposite me. "Did you and Ben argue?"
"No. Not really. It's just..."
"What?"
I bit my lip. I felt traitorous asking this question, but I needed to know the answer. "Has Ben said anything to you about his past?"
"No. Why?"
I shook my head. "I don't know. It's probably nothing, but he freaked out when I told him Dad was a cop."
"What do you mean 'freaked out'?"
"He just kind of...went all tense and worried. Then he asked why I hadn't told him. It seemed to really matter to him."
She sat back in the chair and regarded me with a frown. "You don't think he's got a record, do you?"
I shrugged. "I don't know what else to think."
"Did you ask him?"
"No. It didn't feel right. I didn't want to seem like I was prying." I winced. "Do you think I should have?"
"Hell, yes! You've slept with him, and he's staying here under my roof. If he has a criminal record, I deserve to know about it and so do you."
She made me feel naive for not asking. Of course I should've asked, not for me but for her.
"You're right. I'll go speak to him now."
"Put some dry clothes on first. You're leaving damp patches all over the floor. Something in my wardrobe should fit."
Half-way up the stairs, I knew our conversation would have to wait. I could hear the groan of the bathroom pipes. He was having a shower. Before our conversation about Dad, I would have thought it would be okay to join him, but not anymore.
I changed into dry clothes in Jane's room, but by the time I'd finished, Ben still wasn't out of the shower, so I went downstairs instead. I found Jane and Mrs. M in the drawing room having tea.
"Good afternoon, Kathryn Bell," Mrs. M said. "I thought you'd left us."
"I had, but now I'm back." I picked up one of the spare cups and poured tea into it.
Mrs. M shook her head and sighed. "Did you learn nothing from your last stay with us?"
Jane hid her smile behind her cup. I made a show of pouring in the milk after the tea then adding sugar. "It would seem I didn't. But then again, I am a Bell. What did you expect?"
Jane's smile vanished, and she gulped down her tea. Mrs. M watched me with those shrewd eyes of hers. She couldn't have failed to notice that my hair was damp and I wore Jane's clothes.
Unless she had a screw loose. I wasn't convinced she had all her mental faculties.
"Hmmm," she finally said. She set her cup down and picked up her cane. She pointed it at me. "There is something not quite right about you. Something that's not very...Bell."
I barked out a humorless laugh. "What's that supposed to mean?" It was the rudest I'd ever been to her, but damn it, she deserved it and I was in bad mood. I'd only just realized how bad.
But it was better being angry than sad. Better to spar with this crazy mean old lady than cry my eyes out over Ben.
"I'm eighty-three, Kathryn Bell. I've lived a long time, and I've learned precisely two things about families."
Oh great. She was going to beat the Merriweathers-are-awesome drum again. I was about to get up and walk out, but Jane's stricken face kept me glued to my seat. She would have been mortified if I'd insulted her grandmother by leaving.
"What two things have you learned, Mrs. M?"
If she detected my impatience, she didn't let on. "Firstly, that children often turn out like their parents. And just as often, they do not."
Oh-kay. I glanced at Jane but she was looking into her teacup, apparently oblivious. Or avoiding me.
"You never know which ones will and which won't until they're adults," Mrs. M went on.
"Then sometimes it's too late to be of any use. Are you following me, Kathryn Bell?"
"Uh, yeah. Kids and parents. Got it. So was that one thing or two?"
Her wrinkles pulled together into a scowl. "The second thing I've learned is that nobody should have to share the burdens of life alone."
Well, that was better than her first observation. "True, but life doesn't have to be a burden."
"Yet burdens are thrown at us anyway. Shouldering them alone is heavy work, particularly as one grows older. I don't want Jane to be alone when I'm gone."
Jane's head snapped up. "Gran!"
"She won't be," I said to Mrs. M. To Jane, I added, "You have Beth, Lucy and me."
"I know," she said.
But Mrs. M didn't look at her granddaughter. "Are you going to return to Winter after college, Kathryn Bell?"
I was amazed she even remembered I was in college. "I don't know yet, but wherever I end up, Jane and I will stay in touch."
"Will you? Even from another state? And what about those other girls? Will they?"
"What are you saying, Mrs. M? That you want to marry Jane off before you die?"
"Gran!" Jane set her cup down in the saucer. "Stop worrying about me. You've got years left in you."
"That may be the case. Or it may not be." To me she said, "As to Jane getting married, if she doesn't leave Winter, how will she meet anyone? I cannot see eligible men just wandering into town, can you?"
"Ben wandered in."
"He didn't wander. He had a purpose."
The air whooshed out of my lungs. I stared wide-eyed at her. Her comment had been so off-handed and casual, yet it seemed vitally important. At least to me. I sat forward on my chair.
"He did?"
"Never mind that."
"But—"
"He's turned out rather well, don't you think, Kathryn Bell?"
My head spun. I gripped the chair arm for support. What did she know about him? And why had he told her his reasons for coming to Winter and not me?
"Gran, you can't possibly be thinking of setting me up with Ben?" Jane looked to me and shook her head, assuring me she had no designs on him. I gave her a nod. I knew she didn't.
Her grandmother didn't seem to hear her. She was smiling dreamily, her hand rubbing the head of her cane. "Rather well indeed. Yes. He should stay. Send him in and I'll inform him."
"I'm not sure he'll want to," I said, heavily.
"Why not?" Jane asked.
"I get the feeling he's going to leave."
Mrs. M's cane came down on the thin carpet with a loud thud. "Of course he won't leave now. Why would he? Everything he's ever wanted is here. Fetch him, Kathryn Bell."
Whatever. I got up and headed out of the drawing room. I was about to go upstairs when I heard tires on the gravel outside. I opened the front door and saw Dad getting out of his car. I knew he would come to the house to speak to me, but I thought he'd give me a few more hours of peace.
A stab of guilt jabbed at my ribs. After what Ben had said about his father, I should consider myself lucky. My parents had given me a safe, loving home my whole life. I was lucky.
Damn it. Now I needed to apologize.
"Hey," I said. "Quite a storm we just had." I tried to sound light and chirpy in the hope he'd see every
thing was okay between us. But from the way he avoided my gaze, I knew he was upset.
He came up the porch steps and removed his hat. "Is there somewhere we can talk?" His tone had an ominous ring to it. I swallowed hard.
"Is Mom okay?"
"She's fine."
"Come inside. We can talk in there."
He shook his head. "Somewhere more private." He took my arm and pulled me to the side of the porch, away from the door.
I jerked free. "Dad, what is it? What's wrong?"
He fidgeted with the brim of his hat, his fingers stroking it back and forth, back and forth.
"Is Ben Parker still here?"
"Yes." The hairs on the back of my neck rose. I folded my arms against a sudden chill.
"In that case, I need to warn Mrs. Merriweather and Jane. You too."
"Warn us? About what? Dad, just say it."
He stopped toying with his hat and his gaze lifted to mine. "He's got a criminal record."
No big surprise considering the way Ben had reacted when finding out Dad was a cop, but at least I knew for sure now. I knew what I was up against. I blew out a breath. It was almost a relief. "I thought so, but...how do you know?"
He turned all his concentration on his hat again. He didn't need to answer. I guessed.
"You ran a check on him, didn't you?" I couldn't believe it! Dad had gone behind my back because he couldn't trust my judgment. Couldn't trust me. "What the fuck did you do that for?"
"Language, Kate. I won't stand—"
"To hell with your damned morals, Dad! I'm sick of them. Sick of you wanting me to stand on the same pedestal as you and Mom. I'm not like you. I'm not the good girl you want me to be. You don't know half the stuff I get up to at college. I sleep around, I've experiment with drugs, and I get drunk most Saturday nights. I'm not perfect, but guess what. I love not being perfect. It's liberating and goddamn fun! People like me for me, not because I'm the daughter of Winter's nicest couple."
"Kate, that's enough," he said, quietly. "You shouldn't take drugs or—"
"I know that! I know what I should and shouldn't do, and I only tried it twice, but that's not the fucking point. The point is, I'm not always good, but I am me. I make mistakes." I threw my arms out wide. "Take a good look, Dad, because I don't think you've ever really seen me before."
I expected to see disappointment in his eyes, but there was nothing like that, only bleakness. He blinked rapidly and looked down at his hat again. I felt like the biggest bitch in the world, but I had to say it, had to get through to him and there seemed to be no other way to do it except to give him the raw, bald facts.
For a long moment, he didn't speak, just toyed with his hat. I thought about walking off to make a point, show how angry I was, but then the hat finally stilled. "I've been a cop for a long time, Kate. Winter wasn't always this quiet. There used to be all sorts here, working in the mills. I've seen people wasted on marijuana, smoking their brain cells away. I've seen drunks staggering down the street, sometimes falling in the gutter. I've seen alcoholism break up families, hurt people."
"For Christ's sake, Dad, I'm not that bad. You can't compare—"
"Just listen to me for once!" His eyes flashed, his teeth bared like a snarling wild animal.
I'd never seen him so angry, and he'd certainly never spoken so openly about the things he'd seen as part of his job.
His hypocrisy pissed me off. "You don't get to lecture me on anything after what you just did. I've done some dumb things, but I never went behind anyone's back. Not only have you shown me that you don't trust me, but you violated the privacy of a good man. Ben doesn't deserve—"
"A good man?" His voice shook with quiet rage.
"Yes," I said. "He is. If you'd taken the time to get to know him, you'd realize that.
Whatever he did in the past he probably regrets. A little jail time doesn't mean—"
"He didn't serve a little jail time, Kate. He's been out for twelve months, but before that he served four years in prison for second-degree murder."
I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach. Black spots danced in front of my eyes, and the world blurred. "Murder?" I echoed. "Who?" It seemed I was only capable of speaking in one-word sentences.
"He killed his own father."
Chapter 8
Ben killed his father? It seemed so unreal. How could the wonderful guy who'd made gentle, passionate love to me done something so brutal?
"He beat him to death with his fists," Dad said, as if reading my mind.
I covered my mouth with my hands. Bile rose to my throat and my legs felt weak. I backed into the wicker chair and sat down.
"It's a very personal way to kill someone," Dad went on.
My God. This wasn't happening. Not Ben. No way. But Dad wouldn't lie about something like this. Whatever he was, he wouldn't say those things just to get me to push Ben away. Oh God, oh God. Ben...a murderer.
"It gets worse."
How could it possibly be any worse?
"His father was a cop," Dad said. "He was highly decorated and well liked. He had a good record and—"
"Stop." I held up my hands then buried my face in them. "Just stop."
Dad's arm circled my shoulders. "I'm sorry, Katie. I wish it wasn't true."
I felt numb. I wanted to cry and scream and make a scene. But I couldn't. It was like a deep well had opened up inside me and all my emotions had fallen into it.
The front door to the house opened. "Kate?" Jane said. "Oh. Hi, Mr. Bell. How are you?"
"Fine, thank you, Jane. You?" The niceties seemed ridiculous in light of what I'd just learned.
"I'm good. What's wrong with Kate? Is everything all right?"
I looked up in time to see Ben walk out the front door and stand behind her. He took one look at me then Dad and came forward.
"Kate?" Worry edged that single word, and anger too. "Kate, what's wrong? What's he done?"
Oh hell. He must have thought Dad had physically hurt me. Not surprising considering his history of abuse and how I must look. I went to him and pressed my hands to his chest. I wanted him to fold me into his arms, but we couldn't. Not here and not now. He must have sensed my hesitation and kept his hands by his sides. They were rigid, the fingers splayed like an outlaw ready to draw.
"Why are you crying?" he asked.
Was I? I hadn't noticed. "Dad just told me."
"Told you what?" Jane asked.
Ben took a step back. His entire body seemed to flinch. He stared at me then Dad.
"You...know." It wasn't a question.
Dad nodded. "Jane, you need to hear this too."
She came up to me, and I took her hand. She looked at each of us in turn then plopped down in one of the wicker chairs. I sat too. "This is serious," she muttered.
"No," Ben said, shaking his head. "Don't. Don't do this. I served my time. I was released."
His chest rose and fell with his hard breathing. "Sir, don't..."
"Now, son, they should know." Dad spoke calmly, like he was coaxing a frightened and injured animal to come closer. He might sound in complete control, but I could see the tension in the way he held himself, as if he would spring into savior mode at any moment if necessary.
Clearly he didn't trust Ben. "I already told Kate."
Ben closed his eyes and tipped his head back. His fingers curled into fists.
"Jane and Mrs. Merriweather have to be told too."
"She already knows," Ben said quietly. He looked Dad square in the eyes. He did not look at me. "I told Mrs. M the day after I arrived."
"You did?" Dad lifted his brows in surprise. "And she let you stay anyway?"
Ben nodded. "She knows the whole story."
"Well." It was difficult to tell what Dad was thinking. Maybe he thought the old lady was losing her mind completely.
I, on the other hand, was beginning to like Mrs. M. She definitely had my respect for looking beyond Ben's past.
"What have you told Gran?
" Jane's hand grasped mine like she could squeeze the answer out of me.
"Go on," Dad said to Ben. "You tell her. I expect there's some details I don't know."
Ben leaned back against the porch rail and looked down at his bare feet. Dad stood beside him, his body still rigid, but otherwise he showed no sign of concern. I guess the worst was over.
If Ben was going to attack anyone, he would have done so already. Dad knew that.
"My father was a cop in Minneapolis," Ben said. "Apparently he was good. That's what everyone said after he died. He had a good record, worked hard..." Ben shrugged. He was still looking down at his feet. "Maybe it's a cop thing to protect each other." His gaze rested briefly on Dad before looking down again.
"He wasn't a good cop?" Jane asked.
"He wasn't a good man. Maybe he was when I was younger, I don't know. I don't remember much about him before the age of ten. Apparently that's when he was called to a domestic dispute and saw the wife blow her husband's head off then turn around and shoot two of Dad's colleagues. I found out much later that the incident changed him. He started drinking a lot, and when he got drunk, he'd beat up Mom. She couldn't do anything right according to him. Dinner was never served at the right time or the right temperature. He told her she was lazy, accused her of spending all his money. When she tried to get a job, he broke her arm, so she couldn't go to the interview. I tried to stop him, but he beat me too."
I closed my eyes. I needed to hear this, but I didn't want to. It was unthinkable that a little boy should have to fear his own father.
"I grew older," Ben went on, "and bigger. Dad was a big man, but I could match him by the time I was eighteen. I became a good fighter out of necessity. I used to stay up until he fell asleep just to protect Mom. He stopped beating her up, but the verbal abuse didn't end."
"Why didn't she leave?" Jane asked, her voice faint.
"She tried a few times, but he always found us. Dad was a cop. He knew where to look, and he was still considered one of the best in his division. He had them all fooled, so when he accused her of having an affair, they all believed him. Everyone thought he was a good man for taking her back." He gave a harsh laugh. "All his friends hated Mom for putting him through hell. Dad was a saint in their eyes. Mom could have pursued legal avenues to get rid of him, but the process was slow, and she was afraid he'd hurt me."