“You mean … before he came here?” Okay, so hungover wasn’t Melina’s finest state. She tended to catch on more quickly when she hadn’t downed enough booze to fill a bathtub. But it wasn’t fair for Lynda to be deliberately obscure. “So … before Ben knew you existed, he got someone pregnant, and you’re mad about it?”
“As she should be,” Gloria put in. “It goes to his character. You can’t love a man of poor character, and Mr. Forester is a man of poor character. He was selfish and uncaring, and the fact that he was a mere nineteen years old at the time doesn’t change things one whit. No, sir, Ms. Lynette, it doesn’t.”
From somewhere Melina found the strength to push herself back onto the sofa. With cushions at her back, she felt the slightest bit steadier, which was good, because mentally she was on shaky ground. “So … when Ben was a kid back in Georgia, his girlfriend got pregnant and he skipped out. And that’s why you broke up with him now. And what the hell is that purple string?”
Lynda picked up a handful of fuzz and looked at it as if she wasn’t quite sure where it had come from. “It used to be a sweater the color of wisteria.”
“And what happened to it?”
In her other hand, she held up a pair of eyebrow scissors.
“Did you finish off the scotch last night?” Melina asked suspiciously, but Lynda shook her head. “I was afraid of that. I make more sense stinking drunk than you do stone-cold sober. Put the scissors down and rationally explain this whole Ben thing.”
For a moment Lynda acted as if she hadn’t heard her, concentrating instead on cutting small pieces of yarn into smaller pieces. Then, with a deep breath, she launched into an explanation that made little sense. The best Melina could figure was that, for Lynda, there was forgivable teenage-boy behavior and then there was the unforgivable. Abandoning a pregnant girlfriend who was smart and capable was regrettable but forgivable. Abandoning a pregnant girlfriend who was needy, insecure, and got wasted too often wasn’t.
“Now do you understand?”
Melina gave a bewildered shrug, then immediately stopped because the movement made her stomach heave. “But he was nineteen. For God’s sake, Lyn, don’t you remember being nineteen?”
“I never would have done what he did.”
Of course she wouldn’t have, but then, things had been different for her. Her family had been close-knit. Even when her parents hadn’t approved of her decisions, they’d supported her fully. But Ben hadn’t been so lucky. Lynda knew more about his background than Melina did, but she knew his parents lived in Atlanta and yet he’d been raised by his grandmother. Enough said.
“I’m sorry, Lyn, but I don’t see the unforgivable sin here. When he was a kid, he did something selfish—something that countless kids do every day. Now he’s a man, and he regrets it, and he wants to fix it. I think that’s admirable. You know, he could have chosen to give up the search after his grandmother died. Granny’s dead—she’d never know he hadn’t fulfilled her dying wish.”
Lynda glared at her. “Whose side are you on?”
“Yours, of course. I just think you’re being unreasonable.”
“Unreasonable?” Lynda jumped to her feet so quickly that purple yarn flew everywhere. Still dusting the same shelf of Lladró, Gloria clucked her tongue, and Melina cringed. “Those Dalton kids have lived awful lives! They’ve lived in shelters and gone to bed hungry! They never had a safe, secure home or someone to love them in their entire lives until Emilie took responsibility for them, and Ben helped make all that happen! And you think I’m being unreasonable?”
Melina had to admit it was harder to defend him when she put it that way, but she tried anyway. “He didn’t know what his daughter’s life was going to be like back when he left her mother. You can’t blame him for that.”
“He knew Berry Dalton wasn’t capable of taking care of an infant. He knew the odds of her becoming a good mother were—were—”
“As poor as the odds his own mother had faced,” Gloria put in.
“That’s right,” Lynda said triumphantly.
The housekeeper went on with both her dusting and her speech. “And look at him. Even with a bad mother and a worse father, he turned out all right, and he had no reason to think that his daughter wouldn’t be fine, too.”
“That’s—” The triumph disappeared. “That’s not right. He had no reason to think she would be fine. Berry Dalton is a drug addict and an alcoholic. She abandoned her children so many times she lost them for good. She’s an unfit mother and a poor excuse for a human being.”
“That’s the Sherry Dalton of today,” Gloria disagreed. “Ben doesn’t even know that Sherry. The one he knew was a pretty blonde with the bluest eyes. She loved to laugh and dance and flirt with the boys. She was the life of every party. When she was happy, she was vivacious and outgoing and oh, so much fun. And when the happiness passed, she was insecure, depressed, demanding, and shrewish. She couldn’t keep a relationship for more than a few months. Young Len stayed for nearly four months—long after he should have left—and that was a record for her. He knew she had problems. He just wasn’t grown up enough to know how serious they were, or how much worse they would get. If he’d understood, I believe he would have handled things differently, I truly do. He might have been a wild young man, but he had a good heart. And he still does. It’s a bit sore this morning, but it’s good.”
Melina looked from her to Lynda, who was staring, then back to Gloria. “How do you know all that?”
“Oh, if you listen enough, you learn all sorts of things. Besides, I’ve got friends in Atlanta.” She rolled her eyes heavenward. “Lots of friends. Can I get you something for that headache, Miss Melanie? It’ll settle your stomach, too.”
“Yes, please.”
With a smile, Gloria left the room. Lynda stood motionless a long time, then bent to pick up all the yarn. She looked around for a place to put it, then stuffed it in a vase on the side table before starting for the stairs.
“Where are you going?” Melina asked.
“Home.” Lynda didn’t slow her steps. “I’m going home.”
J. D. Grayson’s office was on the first floor of Bethlehem Memorial, a small room filled with hospital-issue furniture and enclosed by walls in need of paint. The only source of bright color in the room was the family photographs that hung on all four walls, overshadowing the degree from Harvard Medical School in its elegant frame.
Emilie Bishop had wasted no time in contacting her psychiatrist friend. Ben had been on his way out the door this morning when Grayson called, suggesting an eleven A.M. meeting. It was two minutes after, now.
Though the man seated across the desk wasn’t much older than him, Ben felt the way he had when he was back in school and had gotten sent—again—to the principal’s office. Wary. Inadequate. He didn’t like other people having control over his life—didn’t like that this stranger got to decide whether he should even have a place in his daughter’s life right now. Oh, he knew he had options if Grayson told Emilie to deny him access to Alanna. He could always sue for visitation rights. But how would the good people of Bethlehem feel about him after that? More important, how would Alanna feel about him after having her personal life dragged into court for everyone to gossip about?
Grayson started. “I think you should know up front that Emilie and Nathan Bishop and I are good friends. So are our kids.”
“She told me that.”
“They’re not trying to be difficult. They only want what’s best for the kids.”
“I know.”
“Would you like anything before we start? A cup of coffee, a soft drink?”
Ben shook his head. His palms were clammy, and his nerves were less than steady. He hadn’t slept well last night, and he’d been on edge all morning, waiting for this meeting to roll around. He hoped he had all the right answers, but some little voice kept reminding him that he’d always done poorly on tests—and this looked to be the most important test he would ever tak
e.
“How long have you been in Bethlehem?” Grayson asked.
“About a month.”
“And you’re from Atlanta. What do you do there?”
“I work in construction.”
“You have anyone special waiting for you back home?”
Ben shook his head.
“What about your parents?”
“We’ve never been close.”
“Never? Not even when you were young?”
“Taking care of a kid didn’t rank high on their lists of priorities. I lived with my grandmother most of the time.”
“What about her?”
What about her? He’d loved her, she’d loved him, and she was dead. He said as much to the doctor, though not quite so bluntly.
“Do you have a job here?”
“I started working for Sebastian Knight this week. Before that, I did some work for Lynda Barone.”
“Why did you change jobs?”
Ben wanted very much to tell him it was none of his business, but the moment he’d agreed to talk to the shrink, everything in his life had become the doctor’s business. “We had a … personal relationship, which wasn’t exactly compatible with my working for her.”
“I imagine not,” Grayson said with a grin. “When I met my wife, she was the social worker assigned to my foster kids. It didn’t make things any easier. How’s the relationship now that you’ve found another job?”
It was over before it had even gotten a chance. His natural impulse was to take the blame for it himself, but some small stubborn part of him refused. She was being unfair. She couldn’t make decisions about their relationship at this time based on his behavior thirteen years ago. It was just plain wrong.
Which didn’t change the fact that it hurt like hell. He felt about as bruised and defeated as he’d ever been.
“She … ended it last night.”
“I’m sorry. Do you mind if I ask why?”
The answer he gave was short, blunt, and honest. Of course, every answer gave rise to another question. Before the interview started drawing to a close, they’d covered every aspect of his failed relationships and practically every aspect, it seemed, of his life in general.
Though their scheduled time had ended ten minutes earlier, Grayson wasn’t quite finished. “If Lynda called you and said, I’m sorry, I overreacted, I want to try again, but I don’t want your daughter around … what would you say? Would you give up the chance of a relationship with Alanna to continue your relationship with Lynda?”
There would be only one reason for Lynda to not want Alanna around—because that made it impossible for her to forget that he wasn’t the man she’d thought he was. He didn’t want her if she had to pretend he was something he wasn’t. He’d never claimed to be perfect, but at least he deserved credit for what he was. A man who made mistakes. Who took a while longer to figure out what was important in life but eventually did figure it out. A man who was doing the best he could, even if she didn’t think so.
“I know it’s a tough question.”
“No,” Ben said quietly. “It’s not so tough. If our relationship isn’t strong enough to survive the fact that I have a daughter, and that I’d like to meet her, then it’s not strong enough to survive, period. But she was right about one thing. I knew what it was like to grow up with a father who wanted nothing to do with me. I learned a lesson from it—that fathers aren’t important. That as long as a kid has somebody, they can grow up just fine. Unfortunately, it was the wrong lesson. The right one, the one Emmaline tried to teach me, the one Lyn wanted me to understand, was that family should be more important than that. It didn’t matter that my parents weren’t worth a damn, because I had Emmaline. There was nothing in the world she wouldn’t have done for me. I know it’s a long shot, but I’d like to think that someday maybe Alanna could feel that way about me.”
Grayson sat silently a long time before glancing at his watch. “One more question, and then I’ll let you go. Are you planning to stay in Bethlehem, or will that be determined by the state of things with Alanna?”
“I plan to stay,” Ben replied, deciding at that moment. “I like the town and the people, and with Emmaline gone, there’s no reason to go back to Georgia.”
“But you’ll be running into Lynda on a regular basis.”
“Don’t count on it,” Ben said with a wry grin. “How often do you run into her?”
“Very rarely, now that I think of it.” Grayson stood up, then opened the door. “Come on. I’ll walk out with you.”
When they reached the lobby, the entire Grayson family was waiting, and not one of the six kids was the least bit shy about greeting their father affectionately. He introduced each of them to Ben, including Caleb, then his wife Kelsey, who was holding the baby—at least until the kid dove headfirst into Ben’s arms. He caught her as her mother released her legs, and settled her close. In spite of his mood, he couldn’t resist her toothless grin. “You’re not the least bit shy, are you, darlin’? Keep that up, and when you’re about twenty, you’re going to be awfully popular with the men.”
“I taught her to do that,” Kelsey responded. “Only with handsome men, of course. So, Ben … I’ve heard about you.”
“Really?” What he wanted to say was, Heard what? And, From whom?
“I thought Maggie and Holly were exaggerating, but obviously not. The available women in town are going to love you.”
Not the one he was interested in.
“You’d better run while you can, Ben.” Bud Grayson slapped him on the shoulder. “I don’t know what it is about a happily married woman, but she just can’t stand having single folk around.”
“We just want everyone to share in our happiness, Bud,” Kelsey said with a broad smile. “You certainly didn’t run.”
“Yep, and look what’s happening. I’m getting married day after tomorrow, Ben, to the prettiest lady in the whole state. We’d be honored to see you there.”
Bud gave the time and the address of the church, and Ben said he would try to make it, though he had no interest in anyone’s wedding at the moment. After giving the baby back to her mother, he said good-bye, and left, but he hadn’t gone ten feet when a sweet, girlishly soft voice called his name. It was Gracie Brown-Grayson, six years old and about as far from the ringlets-ribbons-and-lace image her voice conjured. She wore short overalls with one strap dangling, her sneakers were scuffed and both knees scraped, and her pigtails stuck out under a backward baseball cap. He crouched down to her level.
“My daddy said to tell you that Lannie’s gonna be in Grandpa Bud’s wedding—so am I, I’m gonna be the flower girl—an’ … an’ you should come.”
“Thank you, Gracie.”
“Uh-huh.” She raced for the door, then spun around and raced back. “I mean, you’re welcome.”
He watched her run back once more, then headed across the parking lot to his car. Looked like he was going to a wedding Saturday. And maybe he’d just go and shoot himself Sunday. It couldn’t hurt any worse.
He was halfway to the car when he realized that the reason for his telling Dr. Grayson every secret he’d ever had was still unresolved. Would he get the opportunity to meet Alanna? Or had his life gone all to hell just for the fun of it?
When he was a dozen feet from the car, he noticed Sophy leaning against it. In her short overalls and scuffed shoes, she looked like a slightly grown-up version of Gracie. Shoving her hands deep in her pockets, she straightened. “Hi.”
“Hey, Soph.” He unlocked the driver’s door, then glanced at her. “What are you doing here?”
“I had some things to take care of this morning. Sebastian said I could probably catch a ride with you.”
He slid inside, then leaned across to unlock the other door. By the time she got in, he’d started the engine and was cranking his window down. “Where’d you disappear to last night?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing. Your car was there but you were gone.�
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“I got picked up by the police. They thought my hanging around the girls’ soccer field waiting on someone they’d never heard of seemed a bit suspicious.” He backed out of the parking space, then glanced at her. “Why hasn’t anyone ever heard of you?”
Her shrug was airy and unconcerned. “I imagine I’m a bit on the forgettable side.”
Forgettable? He doubted anyone who’d ever spoken to her more than once would ever forget her.
Then she looked at him with a knowing smile. “Trust me, Ben. I’m easily forgotten. The day will come when I’m not even a faint whisper in your memory. How did Ms. Barone take getting stood up?”
His mouth tightened, and so did his fingers on the steering wheel. “She didn’t mind that. She wasn’t happy with the reason why.”
“Ouch. She dumped you, didn’t she?”
“Yes, she did. How do I feel about it? Pretty damned lousy. What am I gonna do about it? Not a damn thing. How does she feel about it? Hell, who knows if she even has feelings? Am I gonna answer any more questions? Not only no, but hell no.”
“You shouldn’t swear so much,” she said mildly. “Dr. Grayson’s only trying to help.”
They traveled the distance to Sebastian’s house in silence. When he shut off the engine, Ben reached across to catch Sophy’s hand. “I’m sorry. It’s just … I had this stupid idea that maybe I could belong here with Lynda and have a home and a family and live a normal life.… Instead I get rousted by the cops, Lynda decides she has no respect for me, the police think I’m some sort of pervert, half the people in town, including my kid, see me frisked and put in the back of a police car, and I have to spend the morning being interviewed by a shrink to determine whether I’m fit to be in the same state as my daughter.” He grinned bleakly. “It hasn’t been the best twenty-four hours.”
“Things will work out, Ben. Just give it time.”
Time. That was what Lynda wanted. Time to figure out if she could forgive him for the choices he’d made thirteen years ago—choices that were her business only because he wanted both her and Alanna in his life.
But he knew a lot about wanting things he couldn’t have. Lynda was one more thing he could add to the list.
Getting Lucky Page 27