I walked her to the door and found myself near tears. I threw my arms around her before she could get too far. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”
She returned the hug and squeezed me tightly. “I’m sorry I suggested you’re hotter than me.”
I giggled into her neck and sniffled back tears. “I didn’t realize that’s what you were doing.”
She pulled back and hit me with her baby blues. “Lizzy, you’re thirty-two-years old and smokin’ hot. It’s a compliment if you can manage to catch a guy’s eye with your wild kids running around.”
“I like Ben. He’s been super nice.”
“So what if he has a little crush on you? It’s harmless.”
“Because it would mean that he’s crazy. You know what my kids are like! You know what I’m like. And he’s seen us all at our worst. He would have to be completely bat shit to find anything about this remotely attractive.” I waved a hand down the length of my body and tried not to make a face.
It was my sister’s turn to burst into giggles. “You don’t see yourself, Liz. You never have.” That was her goodbye. She kissed my forehead, turned around and skipped to her little Jetta. I waved to her, feeling more lost than ever.
It wasn’t that I didn’t see myself. I did see myself. Very clearly. Which was why I knew that she was wrong about Ben.
He wasn’t interested in me. He couldn’t be. I absolutely believed that I was well beyond the years of catching anyone’s eyes. If it wasn’t the four kids that turned them off, it was the dead husband. And if those two weren’t enough to put me completely in the untouchable category, I was half-crazy with grief and more than overwhelmed with life.
I had become the kind of woman that men ran from. And men should run from.
Ben was smart and funny. He had a great job and a gorgeous house. He was maybe the nicest person I had ever met and so giving. Finally, he was great to look at. Basically, Ben could have his pick of females. The last one he would turn his dark eyes on would be me.
Emma’s words bounced around in my head throughout the rest of the day. In between naptime, picking the kids up from school, taking Abby to swim team, Blake to basketball, rushing them back home to feed them some semblance of a healthy dinner, finishing up homework and getting them all to bed, my thoughts had ping-ponged back and forth with frustrating thoughts about Ben’s real motivation for helping me.
By the time I walked downstairs again at eight-thirty, I had come to the conclusion that insanity ran in my family and Emma was out of her damn mind.
That was the only thing that made sense.
I had almost made it to the kitchen when someone knocked on my door. I turned around and couldn’t bring myself to feel surprised when I saw Ben’s figure blurred through the glass, as if my spinning thoughts had conjured him.
I opened the door and greeted him with a smile, “Hi.”
He held up a bottle of wine, “Hi.”
“What’s this?”
“Well, I figured since you didn’t have time to grab milk this week, chances were you didn’t have time to grab wine either.”
“I went to the store by myself today, remember? Someone called in emergency babysitting for me. I bought four bottles.”
His wide grin made his eyes sparkle. “Good. You owe me.”
He pushed the door open and stepped inside before I could invite him. I followed him to the kitchen, reflecting on how quickly he’d made himself at home.
“So your plan is to show up and drink all of my wine? How neighborly.”
He flashed a smile over his shoulder and started rummaging through my cabinets. “I’m going to share. It’s too cold to sit outside now, even if I built a fire. Glasses?”
“Next to the fridge.”
He moved over and finally found what he had been looking for. He surveyed my small wine rack that sat on the side cabinet. His lips pressed into a frown as he picked up each bottle and read the label.
“We’ll drink mine,” he finally decided.
“Snob! There’s nothing wrong with my wine.”
He gave me a look that contradicted my opinion. “I’ll teach you. You get out of the house so little, you need my help.”
“You have managed to invade my privacy, insult my taste in wine and call me a recluse in the span of three minutes. I’m honestly impressed.”
He started opening and closing drawers, looking for the cork screw. I pulled it out of the right drawer and handed it to him.
“I don’t think you’re a recluse,” he told me with his concentration fixed on the bottle of wine. “I think you’re busy. And I think I have better taste in wine.”
“Both of those things are true,” I finally conceded. I slid onto the bar stool and tried not to be charmed by his smug grin.
He handed me a half-filled glass and watched my face as I took my first sip. Then he poured his own.
“How was your day?” he asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence.
His words floated over my skin, warm and smooth. I felt my heart swell with friendly affection for this man that barely knew me, but cared enough to ask about my day- my day that was filled with kids and mess and craziness.
“Actually, pretty good.” I tucked some hair behind my ear and took another sip of wine. “I enjoyed my trip to the grocery store. Thanks again for calling Emma.”
“My pleasure.” His gaze stayed focused on my face. “My day was good too, thanks for asking.”
I shook my head at him. “Put any bad guys in jail?”
His warm chuckle filled the room with an easy grace. “Not today. Let’s see, I had a mediation, a couple contracts and one last will and testament. I told you, no Law and Order for me. It’s all paperwork.”
“You’re really pretty boring, aren’t you?” I dropped my chin into my hand. “No wonder you have such a hard time getting dates.”
His eyes narrowed playfully. “I don’t have a hard time getting dates.”
“Oh, just keeping them?”
“I’m going to take my wine back.”
I gulped a big swallow and then grinned at him. “Let’s hear the gory details, Ben. Where’s Mrs. Tyler? Emma said you were perfectly normal. You didn’t make any disgusting mouth noises or try to get out of paying the check. How is it that you’re still single?”
He swirled his wine and stared at it contemplatively. “There’s not a big mystery here, if that’s what you’re looking for. I’ve had girlfriends off and on over the years, but no one that I really felt a deep connection to. To be fair though, I have been pretty focused on my career lately and before that, school. It wasn’t until recently that the idea of finding someone to settle down with entered my mind.”
“Oh.” Well, that was a normal enough answer. “You’re a workaholic then?” I teased.
“My dad’s a workaholic,” Ben explained without any hint of humor. “I’ve spent a large amount of my life chasing his high expectations.”
“Oh,” I repeated. This was the real reason he didn’t like working for his dad. “You don’t seem to still struggle with that?”
“A year ago, he had a pretty severe heart attack. It really shook him up, helped him realign some of his priorities. It also helped me realize how short life can be. I spent the majority of my life chasing after this impossible goal he had set for me. He was a mostly miserable man, always focused on work and building his practice. And he wanted me to be the same and to dedicate my life to the same pursuits. Then he had the heart attack. I walked into his hospital room, saw him lying on the bed, attached to machines and monitors, barely breathing on his own and I realized I didn’t want that to be me. I saw an empty shell of a man that had nothing to show for his life’s work. At least nothing that mattered. He had a son that couldn’t stand the sight of him and a wife that barely tolerated his existence. No friends, no co-workers that cared enough to show up. He was alone. I decided then that I wouldn’t spend every minute of my life pursuing things that would never care about me t
oo, that would never love me back.”
It seemed that every time Ben spoke, I admired him even more. “How is he today?”
“He’s better,” Ben answered softly. “His health is better, and I think he realized a lot of the same things I did. We’ve been working on our relationship. It’s not perfect. And it hasn’t been easy for him to change. But, slowly… we’re getting there slowly. It’s not the lost cause I once thought it was.”
“And your mom?”
“She’s great. You would love her actually. She’s full of life, very funny, pretty much the opposite of my dad. They’re working on things too. I think they’ve lived together being miserable for so long, they’re not sure how to go forward. But they’re trying. That’s part of the reason I can learn to respect him now. I couldn’t stand the way he neglected her… ignored her. He washed-out this effervescent woman until she became a shadow at his side. I just… I couldn’t tolerate that.”
“But things are better now?” It seemed he needed to be reminded. I could see how hard it was for him to accept this change and I didn’t blame him. His dad sounded like a piece of work.
“Things are better,” he agreed. He took a deep breath and leveled me with another intense gaze. “Alright, your turn.”
“My turn for what?”
“Serious questioning. You got down to the bottom of me, now I want to hear about you.”
I fortified myself with another gulp of wine. He was right. It was only fair, even if I didn’t want to go into details. If I really wanted a friendship with Ben, I owed him this.
He started with a relatively easy question though. “I worked on a will today and it got me to thinking, are you okay in this house? Will I be getting a new neighbor any time soon?”
“Wow, starting with financials. How classy of you.”
He made a growly sound and demanded, “Answer the question, Liz. I like having you as a neighbor. I’m going to be pretty distraught if I come home one day and see a for sale sign in your yard.”
My heart jumped in my chest. “I’m sure you’ll survive.”
“Answer the question, you aggravating woman.”
I gave him a dramatic sigh, but admitted, “The house is paid for. We won’t be moving, so rest your weary head. Grady owned a construction company and used his infinite resources to build as economically as he could. He also had a trust from his dad, who died when he was in high school and I had money from my grandfather. We didn’t want to worry about a mortgage on top of business debt, so we paid off the house.”
“And his life insurance is enough for you to stay home full-time?”
I felt a little strange opening up to someone outside of my family, but I didn’t see the harm in answering his questions. “He had a large policy. So do I. With four kids, there’s no other way to do life insurance. There’s more than enough to get me through these next few years while the kids are little. I have an education though. I’d like to go back to work after Jace goes to school.”
“That’s nice how that worked out for you,” he said softly. He must have seen my expression crumble from his words because he quickly added, “Not nice, obviously. But I’m glad for your sake you were prepared.” With a rueful twist of his lips, he added, “I’m glad you’re taken care of, for my sake.”
“Your sake?”
“I get to keep my neighbors. That’s good for me because I like them.”
“Just wait until I start throwing keggers. And Blake and Abby shoot out your windows with their BB guns.”
He walked around the island and stood over me. I could smell his pleasant, masculine cologne and feel the heat of his body. He had completely invaded my personal space and seemed very unapologetic about it.
His thumb rubbed at my upper lip. “Wine,” he explained. “If you start throwing keggers, I hope I’m invited. And if you ever decide to buy Blake and Abby BB guns, send them to me so I can teach them how to use them properly.”
“Grady had a brain tumor! I mean, technically tumors, plural.” The words exploded from my mouth. He was too sweet, too close. Emma’s words screamed in my head and his touch tingled against my skin. I had to do something. Ben took a quick step back and practically fell onto the nearest barstools. “That’s what killed him. Or, um, cardiac arrest actually killed him. But that’s what made him sick. He fought for two years. We went through as many treatments as we could. Surgery wasn’t an option. We tried the regular drugs, experimental drugs, chemo, radiation. We did everything we could, but it didn’t matter. He… he couldn’t…” Tears dripped down my cheeks as I tried to explain my husband’s sickness to this man.
“Liz,” he whispered.
“March,” I croaked. “He’s been gone since March.” I buried my face in my hands, unable to look at Ben anymore.
“Oh, Liz.”
His arms wrapped around my torso, tugging me tightly to him. His warmth completely enveloped me, completely immersed me in him.
His nearness felt more comforting than anything had in a very long time and that confused me. I cried harder, battling within myself whether to let him hold me or pull away and ask him to leave.
Eventually I gave in and sunk into his hug. I kept my hands over my face in a silly attempt to keep my makeup from running all over his gray t-shirt. He held me close to his chest, my ear resting against the heavy beats of his heart.
He whispered soothing words that I couldn’t hear above the roar of my internal war and never moved away from me, not until I had calmed down enough to pull back.
“I’m sorry,” I said, embarrassed by my outburst. “I didn’t mean to leak all over you.”
He had no patience for my flippant attitude. His hands brushed from my shoulders, up the line of my neck until they cupped my face. He tilted it upwards to look at him and smoothed his thumbs beneath my eyes, wiping away the flood of tears.
“Don’t ever be sorry for that, Liz. You can cry on me anytime you need to.”
“Why are you so nice to me? You barely know me.”
A soft smile played on his lips, “But I like what I know so far. And I am excited for what else there is to find out.” He stepped back to refill our wine while I reeled from his words.
He settled back onto the bar stool and started conversation again about our nosey neighbor, Mrs. Mitchum, who had brought over an olive loaf for him the other day and made him give her a tour of his house.
We talked for another two hours, enjoying the wine and learning more about each other little pieces at a time. By the time I walked him to the front door, it was past my usual bed time and I knew I would be more tired than usual in the morning.
But I fell asleep easily and without tears.
Ben had been a therapy of sorts. And I couldn’t make myself regret the time we’d spent together. I decided to ignore Emma’s words completely. I knew Ben better than she did and I wasn’t ready to give up this new friend I’d only just made.
Stage Three: Bargaining
I survived denial.
I crawled my way through anger.
And now I would battle bargaining.
Before this happened to me and before I became a clinical study on what it’s like to lose someone important, I had always thought of bargaining as the easy stage.
It’s so much easier to wish someone back than admit that they’re gone. It didn’t seem like a difficult process before I had to go through it myself. But I had never known real grief before, so I couldn’t picture myself pleading for my husband’s return or desperately begging God to bring him back to me.
And that is the crux of it right there. Desperate. Desperation. Desperately willing to give up anything if I could just see him one more time, speak to him one more time. Kiss him one last time.
I have become so desperate in my grief that I can’t be reasoned with. The pain continues to slice at my chest like a deadly knife, digging deep and making wounds that I am convinced can never be healed. The sheer intensity of it only worsens as the days go by. The
re is no end in sight. No reprieve or fast breath of relief.
There is only sadness and tears.
In the middle of this agony, I begin to think of Grady less and less. My life moves on. The kids keep me busy. School days fill my time and practices hoard my nights. I am becoming more self-sufficient every day and for the things I cannot do myself, I now have a sturdy support system that swoops in before I ever need to ask.
At night I lie in bed and force myself to think as much about Grady as I can. I constantly worry about losing all of my memories of him, of not being able to remember things just as they were. I do whatever I can to shove thoughts of everyone else out of my head and think only of Grady.
Because he is not the only person I want to think about. And I hate myself for that. I hate that my thoughts won’t stay loyal to my husband.
I will do anything to ease this guilt and misery, to tape my broken heart back together. I will do anything to think of Grady as my husband. Even still. Even beyond his death.
And to think of Ben as only a friend.
Chapter Fourteen
“You guys shouldn’t have let me sleep in! I could have gotten up!” I wandered into the kitchen, following my nose and the smell of freshly brewed coffee.
My parents had arrived from Florida the day before. They were from this area and had raised Emma and me here, but took their retirement some place warm.
After the four inches of snowstorm we got last night, I didn’t blame them. They were lucky it didn’t start until after we got home from the airport. It had been a very mild fall. New England had one of the prettiest winters in the country and I was excited to finally have snow on the ground.
This was our first real snow of the season and it was just in time for Christmas. The kids had been off since last Friday and I appreciated the snow for them and for my parents.
Christmas would be hard enough this year; it helped that it would at least be pretty.
“No, grandparents are supposed to wake up early, Lizbeth. That’s why we came.” My dad sat hunched over the kids’ table with his knees pressed to his chest and a princess crown on his head.
The Five Stages of Falling in Love Page 13