Her Handyman Hero

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Her Handyman Hero Page 19

by Lorraine Beatty


  When he spotted them sitting under a gaudy orange umbrella, nibbling and licking at ice-cream cones, Ben breathed a thankful prayer.

  He paused a moment to gather himself. He’d already made a bad first impression and he didn’t want to swoop down on them like he was on a hunt.

  “Hi,” he said, as he drew near to their table. “I see you waited.”

  The woman studied him as if she was trying to decide what would be an appropriate response. Ben noticed how long her eyelashes were, framing her large, expressive eyes.

  Finally, she said, “Well, there wasn’t really much else we could do, was there?” She looked at her little girl to signify she didn’t want to alarm her any more than she had been.

  Her tone was mild enough, but it made Ben squirm a little.

  “I’d really like it if we could start fresh,” he said. “So, when you’re finished your ice cream, I’d be happy to go with you to the office to explain the situation and make sure you get the help you need.”

  The last part of his statement made the woman suddenly sit up straight in her chair and square her shoulders.

  “Thank you for your concern,” she said in a polite tone with frosted tips, “but I’ll figure something out.”

  The little girl nibbled her ice-cream cone like a nervous mouse and her eyes darted up to Ben, back to her mother and back to Ben again.

  “Look,” Ben said, “I know it was wrong of me to take my stress out on you, but can you please forgive me so we can move past it?”

  Was it his imagination, or did her mouth stiffen a bit at the word forgive?

  She shrugged. “Okay, no big deal. We all have stress, right?”

  Ben found himself wanting to ask her what she was stressed about. You don’t need to know, he reminded himself. You have enough of your own to deal with right now.

  These days, it felt like it was nothing more than sheer effort, coupled with a long-standing faith, that kept him from wondering why he bothered with God. Yet, although his father’s disease now challenged Ben, it was his father who had taught him in the first place to trust God in all situations.

  The tough times are when you have to lean on him harder than ever, his father had always said.

  Lord, I’m leaning as hard as I can. Please help me to trust that You won’t let me fall.

  He shook himself out of his reverie and realized that the child was watching him warily.

  She was a cute little girl, he thought, although a bit unkempt, with the ends of her braids going fuzzy in the humidity and her glasses sitting a bit lopsided on her nose. He also noted that she must take after her father, wherever he was, because her features were round and soft, whereas her mother’s features were small and delicate. Regardless, he certainly wasn’t going to ask.

  “I won’t force my help on you,” Ben said, looking from one to another, “but please let me know if you need anything. Since we’re going to be neighbors for the summer, I hope we can get along. I’m Ben Cedar.”

  The woman scrutinized his face again. Ben wished he could ask her what she was looking for, although he sensed that she might not be able to answer that question even if she wanted to. Then she gave a brief sharp nod as if she’d made a decision.

  “Frankie,” she said. “And my daughter is Rae.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Ben said. He noticed that ice cream from Frankie’s cone was melting its sweet and sticky way down her arm while she kept her eyes on him.

  He looked away. Something told him she wouldn’t appreciate it being pointed out to her.

  “Frankie?” he said, instead. “Is that a nickname for something? Frances? Or Francesca?”

  “Francesca,” she repeated with a little snort of laughter that surprised him. “Um, no. I’m not exactly the Francesca type. My Mom’s favorite book is The Member of the Wedding, but I doubt you’ve heard of it.”

  “I remember there was an old movie,” Ben replied. “Julie Harris, right?”

  He felt a certain degree of satisfaction when Frankie blinked her surprise.

  “I watched it with my dad one night,” he said. “It was on the late show, some channel where they play old movies.”

  Mentioning his dad brought a rush of trepidation to Ben. He really had to get back to the cabin.

  Frankie noticed her arm and, with a quick, somewhat accusing glance in his direction, began to wipe the ice cream off with a napkin.

  “Are you done?” she said to Rae. “We’d better go see someone about our cabin. It’s going to be fine,” she hurried to reassure her daughter, who suddenly looked like a wizened and worried little old woman. “It’s going to be just fine. I promise.”

  Ben thought that the little girl would have no idea what it cost her mother to make that promise, and he could see the sheer will it took for Frankie to keep a smile on her face for the sake of her daughter.

  He made a decision then and sent a quick prayer up to the Lord daring to ask Him to bless what was quite possibly the most inane idea he’d ever had. Still, if it would fix the problem and let him get his focus back on why this summer was so important to him—the amends he needed to make—he was willing to take the chance.

  “I have a great idea. You’ll take our cabin,” he said, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt, “and we’ll move into yours.” He wondered how he would get his father and their belongings relocated. But the words were out and there was no way he was taking them back.

  “If you can just find something to do for another hour or so, I’ll stop into the office and make all the arrangements.”

  “I need to let them know I’m here,” Frankie protested.

  Ben braced himself to stand his ground.

  “Could we please, Mom?” Rae’s small voice floated up like a hopeful balloon between them. “I really want a nice cabin like you promised.”

  “Please let me do this,” Ben said, nodding his head toward Rae. “I can explain everything to them and you and your daughter can just relax for a bit, and then we’ll call it even.”

  “Even?” Frankie retorted. “What have I done for you?”

  “You’ll be doing something for me by letting me make up for the misunderstanding,” Ben said.

  * * *

  Frankie held Rae’s hands as they took their time looking at the displays in the Nature Center. At least Rae looked, and Frankie was grateful that her daughter was occupied. It gave her time to try to organize her own thoughts, which had been jumping from place to place like a skittish cat since they had first laid eyes on their vandalized cabin.

  First and foremost, she absolutely had to make sure this summer was a healing time for Rae. As well, she had come to Silver Lake seeking to regain and strengthen her own independence, so she was not happy about needing help from a stranger almost from their first moment there. She hadn’t even wanted to accept financial help from her own parents. When she had heard Ben say that the beach community had been plagued with vandalism this summer, she had fought hard against the feeling that her goals for the summer would fail.

  Frankie’s thoughts jumped to Ben. She wasn’t at all sure what to think of him, and at the same time asked herself why she should bother thinking about him at all.

  Yet, even if his physical appeal wasn’t enough to draw her attention, there was a complexity about him that intrigued her more than she wanted to admit. He was apologetic and polite on the surface, though she sensed that something darker simmered beneath, as if he had plenty of his own troubles—or secrets—to worry about... Still, his concern and gentleness with his father was evident, and he had insisted on giving up his cabin for them, people he didn’t even know. What kind of person did something like that?

  She felt an impatient yank on her hand, which meant Rae had been trying to get her attention.

  “Look!” Rae said. “There’s that man again.”

 
Had Ben come to find them? Frankie wondered.

  But, no, the man who ambled with a shuffling gait among the displays, poking out his finger to touch the stuffed and mounted animals, was Ben’s father.

  Copyright © 2017 by Donna Lynn Gartshore

  ISBN-13: 9781488090271

  Her Handyman Hero

  Copyright © 2017 by Lorraine Beatty

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