“Yes, then. I’m talking about Dylan.”
Warren’s eyes closed. “Then why are you wasting time here with me?” he asked faintly. “You should be groveling at her feet and begging for another chance.”
“It’s too late for that.”
Warren’s eyes slowly opened. “It’s never too late, son. I’m dying proof of that.”
Ben nodded, and wiped a tear from his eye. He was thankful his father didn’t see it. God only knew when the real Warren McKenna would come back and yell at him for being so feeble.
Ben sat and watched his father sleep for some time. There had been no discussion about their fight. Neither of them needed to point it out, but there was a peace that had fallen over them, and Ben was finally relaxed at his father’s side.
Ben grabbed his box and looked at Warren’s face once more before he left. He felt no need to wake him for a long, drawn out goodbye. It was a stillness inside his usually raging head that he was content to keep wordless.
As Ben approached the front door, he was stopped by Jackie’s voice. “It took him three rough drafts before he finally felt happy enough with that letter,” she said from behind him.
Ben nodded and allowed a smile to form across his mouth. “I’m sure,” he agreed quietly.
“I’m trying to make him as comfortable as possible. I hope you know that,” she said in desperation. “This was never about money. I have enough of that.”
Ben turned to face her with a compassionate stare. “I believe you. I’d rather not do this with you right now, though. I can only handle so many heart-to-hearts in one day. Please understand.”
Jackie smiled as she let out a sigh of relief. “I’m married to the older version of you, Ben. I think I understand a thing or two about how you operate.”
Ben couldn’t help but to laugh. “Thank you.” He looked back up the stairs, and said, “Take care of him.”
“I promise,” she said with such sincerity that Ben would never question it again. “Would you like that lunch now? You’ve been up there for so long it may as well be dinner.”
“I have another stop I need to make before I head back home. But I do appreciate the offer.”
“The offer will always stand. I hope you come back to visit soon.”
“Of course,” he said, and walked outside into the sun.
He sat down a few steps away from the porch and pulled the letter from the box. He simply couldn’t wait another minute to read what his father spent so many agonizing rough drafts over.
Benjamin,
My life has been turned upside down with love. As much as I would opt to keep a manly feel to this letter, the love I feel for my wife is not the love I speak of. From the moment I laid eyes on you, my heart swelled with a feeling of pride and bewilderment. I knew that you would be a greater man than I could ever imagine myself being. Unfortunately, I never knew how to show that emotion. I was raised by the same kind of monster that raised you and, to my own dismay, emulated my own upbringing because it was all I knew. I thought that if I gave you every material thing possible, and opened every difficult door for you to step through in life, that would somehow be enough and you would feel my love in that way. Sadly, I was mistaken. I can never take it back; however, I can leave you with this one small word of fatherly advice: don’t be me, son. I did it all wrong and I will forever be full of regret. You are a better man than I could ever hope to be. Please know that and remember it when you think of me.
Always, Your father, Warren McKenna
Ben’s eyes welled with uncontrollable tears. He fell into his hands and sobbed as he sat on the steps that lead to his father’s porch. In that moment, an invisible boulder had been lifted from his chest and he knew that every word his father wrote was genuine and true.
He should have raced back into that room and told him that he loved him, too. He couldn’t. Like him, Warren despised emotional overload. He knew that Ben loved him, though. He didn’t need any words to confirm that.
Ben collected his wooden box and stepped down from the stone steps. He didn’t belong there anymore. He belonged somewhere else. He had one more stop to make and a promise to fulfill.
Chapter Twenty
Dylan’s hands shook violently with every guest that walked into her showroom. Every piece that she presented seemed to call out “amateur!” each time she watched an onlooker even glance at it.
She remained somewhat hidden while she watched a man and woman point and nod away at the last piece she painted only weeks before. It was an abstract painting with colors she thought were right at the time, but seriously questioned now.
“Oh, God, when is this going to be over?” she asked her mother through a shaky breath.
Linda smiled obliviously as she sipped her champagne. “What do you mean, baby? I’m having a wonderful time. I love it here. I feel so classy.”
“That’s great.” Dylan pulled the flute from her giggly mother’s hand and downed the alcohol inside. “Why would I ever agree to this?”
“Because you’re one of the most gifted artists I’ve ever known,” a voice corrected from behind her.
“Scarlet!” Dylan beamed as she wrapped her arms around her former teacher’s neck. “I can’t believe you’re here!”
“Like I’d miss this, dummy,” she said with a bright smile.
Scarlet was a true hippie with the dreads and recycled shoes to match. Only tonight, she seemed a bit more sleek and presentable than usual. She still smelled like Patchouli Oil, though.
“This is quite a turnout,” Scarlet noticed.
“They’re paid actors,” Hugh teased, and then dodged a stray slap from Brandon.
“Has anything been purchased yet?” Charlie asked.
“It looks like people are starting to clear out,” Meredith pointed out over her champagne flute. “Has anything sold?”
“Oh, yes! Norman said that several pieces have been claimed, and there are a few that are pending,” Scarlet answered. “You really should have agreed to a higher sale price, Dylan.”
“Yeah, sis,” Jonah cut in, “make us all rich so I can quit school and give Mom’s bank account a rest.”
“You’ll be doing that regardless,” Linda said with a stern look. “I don’t think my bank account can handle another bar tab.”
“You can always get a job as a bartender, Jonah,” Michael taunted.
“He’d drink you dry,” Hugh scoffed.
“You’re all driving me crazy!” Dylan snapped, and fled before she strangled them one by one. She couldn’t handle the usual Mathews banter. Not tonight, anyway.
As she rushed away from her crazy family, she was stopped by a small man with salt and pepper hair. “Ms. Mathews?”
“Mr. Fuller?” Dylan confirmed breathlessly. She decided now was a great time to control her rampant nerves. “I’m so happy you made it.”
“I am as well, Ms. Mathews.” He looked around and smiled. “However, I’ve seen enough.”
Ouch. “Well, I appreciate you taking the time to come here,” she began disappointedly.
Lorenz Fuller released a buoyantly wicked laugh. “Ms. Mathews, we need to work on your pessimism. I fear you are your own worst enemy at times.”
“I’m not following,” Dylan said without caring about sounding proper.
“I’m offering you the position!” he exclaimed with a grin. “I knew I was right about you and this gallery only proves it. I love being right,” he added with a wink.
Dazed, Dylan walked away with a mass of instructions on how to contact him and when she could start. She had to put that behind her for now and concentrate on the exciting moment at hand.
It was a like living in a dream, and she wondered when it would all collapse into a nightmare. Yes, more pessimism.
Dylan walked back to her family and tried to greet them with a smile. They had all showed up, supporting her in every way despite their busy lives. No one could ask for a better group standing behind them, and here she
was acting like a vicious brat.
“Why are you taking that down?” Dylan asked as Brandon pulled her favorite painting from the wall. Even she could hear the urgency in her own voice.
“Uh, someone bought it,” Brandon said with an obvious tone. “Norman told me to pull it when the showing was coming to an end and take it to the back to be wrapped. He said to do this one first.”
“Oh,” she said with a sense of sadness. “Just give me a minute with this one, okay?”
Brandon shrugged. “Sure. Mom bought a painting that reminded her of Dad, anyway. It was the one with the orange moon. I’ll get that first. Oh, and don’t try and argue with her. She said it’s her motherly duty, or something.”
Dylan gave a mechanical “Okay” and didn’t take her eyes from her painting. She had thought long and hard about letting this one go, but knew it was one of the best pieces she had ever done. She wasn’t surprised it had been claimed.
She lightly traced her fingers over the man that reminded her of Ben, and felt her eyes tear up with a memory that seemed so long ago now. The stars that hung over the entangled couple were brighter than she remembered, and she secretly felt a certain serenity knowing that they would never dim.
“That one was our best sale tonight,” Norman said as he approached. “There was somewhat of a battle over it, so it went well beyond the asking price.”
“That’s great,” Dylan replied monotonously.
Brandon returned with a cautious grin. “May I take it now? Have you had your moment?”
Dylan tried to shake off the possessiveness she was feeling. She smiled at her brother, and even added a “Yes, jerk” to sound more content with her loss.
Ben watched Dylan from the sidewalk on Macdougal Street, just in front of the building she stood in. The gallery was surrounded with glass, making it easy for him to spy without being seen.
He laughed as she raced around, and he wanted more than anything to kiss her flushed cheeks. She was nervous for reasons that could only be chalked up to her own insecurities. From the outside, her night looked like a success.
“Are you ever going to go inside?” Brandon asked from out of nowhere. “This stalking thing is getting a little creepy, man.”
“Is that mine?” Ben asked, nodding at the painting in Brandon’s hands.
Brandon looked down and gave the piece a small tap. “I think so. Norman said the buyer would be waiting right where you are.”
Ben pulled the painting from Brandon’s hands and felt a twinge of happiness rush through him. He couldn’t have her in real life, but he could certainly savor her art.
“Maybe someday you’ll stop sneaking around and actually come say hello,” Brandon said with sincerity. “There are a few people inside that would like to see you, you know?”
Ben nodded. “Are you one of them?”
Brandon chuckled. “Nah, you’re not my type.”
Ben let a quiet laugh escape from his lips. That was enough to let him know that he had been forgiven. “Just tell her I said congratulations, okay?”
“Tell me yourself,” Dylan said quietly from the front doors of the building.
Stunned, Ben’s eyes widened. “Hi,” he said too quickly. “I didn’t mean for you to see me. I just—”
Dylan looked down at the painting in his hand. “May I?” she asked, reaching for the wrapped piece. She unfolded part of it and peeked inside to find the man and woman intertwined in an almost kiss. “You bought this,” she said with emotions she couldn’t describe.
“It reminded me of—” he shrugged, “—you know. I promised you I’d buy something.” He tried to sound casual but failed miserably.
“Thank you,” she said with a gentle smile.
“Anyway, I have to get going,” he began. “You look beautiful.”
Dylan nodded her head slowly, contemplating something in that little head of hers. She stared at him with a look of confusion and something else that Ben could not quite decipher.
In an awkward, unexpected hug that stunned even him, he pulled her to him and held her there. His hand lay flat across the small of her back as he drew her in closer, pressing against her. He held her too tight for too long, but still he could not find it in him to let her go so soon. He smelled her hair against his better judgment, knowing what her scent would do to him. It was arousing and humiliating, but the world was right again as the reality of her consumed him for only that brief moment.
He would have held her forever, but the sound of a group exiting the building forced him to release her rather quickly. Only then did he realize the tears in her eyes. He couldn’t see her cry again; that wasn’t why he came.
“Ben?” Linda asked with both shock and happiness erupting from her small voice.
“Hey,” Charlie said, grabbing Ben’s hand and holding it with a manly firmness. “It’s good to see you.”
“Hello, Ben,” Meredith said with a genuine, peace offering smile.
“McKenna,” Michael greeted, and looked from Ben to a clearly shaken Dylan.
Ben shook Oilie’s hand and seriously considered punching his face or congratulating him on being the better man. He would take the high road tonight with a trouble-free nod of the head.
Brandon, Hugh, and Jonah only smiled with a look of ease in their eyes, but Ben understood what that meant. He preferred for them not to speak anyway.
“So,” he began, looking away, “I just wanted to come and buy a painting, like I promised. Congratulations again.” His jaw tightened as his two eyebrows painfully furrowed together. “Bye, Dylan.”
Dylan said nothing as he forced himself to walk away, carrying his new painting in one hand, his other hand shoved inside his pocket.
He hated himself for the pain he unleashed on her, whether he meant to do it or not. It was unbearable to watch her eyes tear up, knowing he was the cause.
He could hardly feel sorry for himself as the rain began to beat down on his head; it only added a nice dramatic effect to his misery. He shielded his painting with its dustcover and turned it inward against his body.
He shook his head as he made his way to wherever the sidewalk he trudged on would lead him. He wanted so badly to erase his mistakes and all the ways he hurt Dylan. He was nothing without her, but she was so much better off without him. That was the reality of it all.
“Ben!” he heard as he stood at a crosswalk. “Ben!”
He swung around and stared at the figure running to him. Jonah grew closer and closer as he wailed his arms in the air and screamed his name. “Ben, stop!”
The rain splashed up against him and his hair was sticking to his forehead, but all he could think about was protecting the piece of Dylan he carried under his arm. “Go back, Jonah!” he demanded. “Go be with your family!”
Jonah yanked the painting from Ben’s arm. “You’re my family, too, asshole.”
Ben pulled the painting back in a standoff with his friend. “What are you doing?”
“I’ll take care of this for you! Stop it, Ben!” Jonah yelled.
“Stop what?” Ben’s confusion grew heavier by the minute. “What are you doing, Jonah?”
Jonah ripped the painting back until he conquered Ben’s death hold. “Washington Square Hotel, room Twenty-seven,” he said with a sopping wet face. “Stop being a dumbass, Ben.”
Ben stared, processing Jonah’s words.
“She just may be the only person in the world you’re ever going to love,” Jonah yelled over the pouring rain. “You’re never going to have another chance at it. Go, Ben!”
Ben chewed the inside of his cheek. Jonah had not one deep thought inside his shallow head, or at least that’s what Ben always believed. Now, here he was, telling Ben to go get Dylan.
“But she’s with Oilie now. They live together.”
Jonah snorted and grinned at his confused friend. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “You couldn’t be more off base. Dylan rents her loft from him, but she lives in it all by herself, alo
ne and single.”
Ben’s chest filled with relief. “She’s not with him?” he asked with joy, this time he just needed to make sure he heard him correctly.
“She never even considered it,” Jonah answered with a smirk. “She won’t admit this, but she misses you. Stop being so stupid and go fix this so I don’t have to chase you down like a dramatic loser again.”
He didn’t wait for Ben to respond. He turned away from him and walked back the way he came, shielding Ben’s beloved painting as promised. He disappeared into the cloudy downpour of the street, and Ben watched him the whole way.
The “walk” sign blinked, warning Ben to cross or forever hold his peace. He waited, looking back down Macdougal Street, then ahead of him again. Behind him was Dylan, pure happiness. Ahead of him was an agony-filled, lonely life. There was no choice.
He sprinted through the rain, running into people with his shoulders, tearing through the crowds of Lower Manhattan. He bolted over a crosswalk without even looking for a sign that allowed him to go. He ran for his life as he stomped through puddles, soaking his body even more.
He found her hotel on Waverly and burst into the dimly lit double doors of the building, passing every form of security that tried to stop him as he hopped onto a closing elevator. If he stopped and allowed front desk to call her room, it was quite possible she would turn him away with ease. He had to surprise her, catch her off guard and knock on her door himself.
An old woman with blue hair, and a small dog tucked under her arms stared at him with a look of curiosity. “Are you all right?” she asked in a delicate voice.
Ben tried to catch his breath as he laughed. He nodded his head and smiled at the petite old lady.
“Is it a girl?” she asked, smiling. “It’s always a girl.”
“Isn’t it?” Ben asked through hard breaths.
“How can I help?” she asked with excitement.
“You can keep security off me,” Ben suggested with a grin. “That would help.”
Under the Orange Moon Page 25