by Anna Schmidt
Downstairs a clock chimed and Ben suddenly wheeled around, glancing at his watch and grabbing the bundle with the journal. “I’m late,” he said more to himself than to her as he crossed the room.
Rachel followed him down the stairs and out to the lanai. He secured the lock and then started around the house toward his car. He had closed himself off from her—from anything or anyone around.
“Ben?” But there were no words. She could offer little comfort. “I’m here if you ever need to talk.”
He placed his hand on her cheek, and she was struck by how smooth his palm was in contrast to James’s calloused touch. “That means a great deal to me, Rachel. Thank you.” He smiled at her for the first time since she’d come up to Sally’s room. “Danke,” he murmured then got into his car.
“Give Sally our best,” Rachel called out as he drove away. “Tell her …”
But he was gone.
Rachel stood on the driveway for a long moment, her hand touching her cheek, her thoughts on Ben Booker. She did not understand these outsiders. They seemed to go from day to day, checking off items on a list. They valued accomplishment and winning, and they seemed to embrace their individual differences as if this were something to be celebrated. Their lives clamored with the noise of their constant chatter and restless activity.
But was she truly that different? Ever since she’d come to Florida her focus had been on making good at her new job, on getting the certification necessary for her to keep that job. How had she gone from the world she’d grown up in—the Mennonite world that was quieter, simpler, and that revolved around community—to this? At what point had she lost that balance so integral to her faith that allowed everyone to live well and in harmony with their neighbors? Had her brother-in-law been right about her? Had she gotten so caught up in achieving success in her work that she had lost sight of what truly mattered—family, friends, community … Justin?
She closed her eyes, allowing the warm moist air of the night to caress her cheek—the way Ben had. Oh, how she wished she could help him find his way home to the faith she felt certain he still carried deep inside him. It was evident that he was a man with much to offer but also a man who struggled with the demands and constraints of the world around him.
Rachel understood that. As a girl she had looked longingly at that outside world, imagining that there she would find true happiness.
This belief that there was something more—something better than the life she’d grown up in—was what had driven her to pester her parents until they had finally agreed that she could attend nursing school. This search for happiness and contentment was why she had sought jobs not in her Mennonite or even the local Amish community after her marriage. Instead she had gone into the public schools to offer her skills.
And she suddenly understood that this was why she had been so drawn to Ben Booker from the moment she’d met him. In him she saw the person she had once been—a person searching in a wilderness. In the short time she had known him she had come to care for him in a way that she had not permitted herself to care for any man since James. With a start she opened her eyes and pressed her hands together.
The disloyalty she felt for James in that moment very nearly overwhelmed her. James had been her first love—her only love. Never had she felt for any other man what she had felt for him. Never—until now.
He was late. The sauce was fine, but the appetizers that Darcy had assembled—bruschetta on toast points—were soggy and inedible. She dumped them into the sink and flipped on the disposal. She had tried calling his cell, then his condo, with no response. She had considered calling the hospital in Tampa. Perhaps Sally had taken a turn for the worst, but if that were true then the last thing Ben needed was a woman who did not understand or accept that he was a physician and always on call when it came to his patients—especially Sally.
She sat down and flipped through a magazine then got up and once again checked the table she’d set on the balcony for the two of them. She’d lit the candles way too early, and now they were burned down to pools of paraffin. She straightened a knife but felt that extinguishing the candles would be to extinguish all hope that he would come.
Just then she heard a car enter the parking area below. She leaned over the balcony and, seeing that it was Ben, resisted the urge to call out to him. Instead she watched as he got out of his car and stood for a long moment, staring out at the man-made lake that her building overlooked. His shoulders were slumped and he looked exhausted.
When he turned toward the entrance, Darcy hurried into her galley kitchen and popped the cork on a bottle of wine then splashed a generous amount into two matching crystal goblets. She checked her makeup and hair in the mirror next to the door and then stepped into the hall to wait for the elevator to deliver Ben. All the while her mind raced with how best to orchestrate the conversation.
She would begin with wine and sympathy for the difficult day he’d endured. She would listen with murmurs of concern while he described the details of Sally’s condition. And then at the right moment she would suggest that they enjoy their dinner and speak of other things—at least for tonight—so he could relax a bit before he had to face the hardships of Sally’s newest complication the following day.
In a perfect world, he would fall asleep on her sofa, lulled by the wine and the food and the rich chocolate cheesecake that she had prepared for their dessert. In a perfect world, she would cradle his head in her lap, comb his thick hair with her manicured nails. And in a perfect world, sometime in the night he would reach for her and find in her kiss the peace of mind he so clearly needed.
When he stepped off the elevator, he gave her a weary smile and held out a bottle of red wine. “I see you’re way ahead of me,” he said, nodding toward the two goblets of wine that she held.
“The night is young.” She handed him one of the goblets, took the bottle of wine, and waited for him to enter her apartment.
“Sorry I’m so late. Sally asked me to go by the house to get something for her, and Zeke was there so I had to fill him in. Then Rachel Kaufmann stopped by and we got to talking and …” He shrugged. “Sorry.”
Darcy’s hand tightened on the stem of her wine glass when he mentioned Zeke and then nearly snapped it in two when he said that Rachel had been there as well. “How’s Sally doing?” she asked, determined to get things back on plan.
He actually chuckled. “Not at all happy to find herself back in a hospital being pricked and probed, as she likes to call it. We’ll know more come Monday.” He took a long swallow of his wine. “But let’s talk about the incredible smells coming from such a tiny kitchen,” he said as he lifted the cover on the sauce. “You’ve got enough sauce here to feed a third world country,” he teased.
Okay, Darcy thought, skip the preliminaries of wine and sympathy. Moving on. “I made enough to freeze some—for myself and for you to have at your place. It makes a wonderful base for chili or sloppy joes.”
“Impressive.” He replaced the lid and picked up the empty wooden salad bowl. “Want me to chop the salad?”
“Sure. You do that while I boil the pasta. You must be famished.”
He seemed to consider this, and then he grinned sheepishly. “Not so much. I have to admit that on my way out of the hospital I picked up a turkey sub sandwich that I ate on the road. That was around five. But never fear, I have plenty of room for homemade spaghetti.”
“And chocolate cheesecake?”
“Might have to take a rain check on that one.” He patted his stomach. “Have to watch the waistline at least a little.”
“Yeah, right.” She felt herself relax. Even with a late start the evening held promise. They worked together well in the confines of the small kitchen, and it was easy to imagine them making a habit of this, spending their free time together, living together. Easy, girl, don’t get ahead of yourself.
“I thought we’d eat out on the balcony. It’s such a lovely night.”
“Works for
me.” Ben tossed the salad with the dressing she handed him and then filled two side plates with the mixture. “What else, chief?”
Darcy fought the urge to cringe. She didn’t want to be someone he thought of as chief. She wanted him to think of her in more romantic terms. “I’ll dish up the pasta and sauce and take the bread from the warmer and we’ll be all set. Why don’t you refill our glasses and take the salads out to the table?”
Once they were seated, Darcy raised her glass to his. “To Sally’s speedy recovery,” she said.
He clinked his glass to hers and took a sip before starting in on his meal. “Rachel Kaufmann offered to pray for Sally,” he said as he focused on buttering his bread.
“Well, that’s kind of her area, isn’t it?” Was it Darcy’s imagination or was her tone a bit critical? “I mean, she is part of the spiritual care team.”
“How’s she doing with that?”
“As far as I can tell there have been no more incidents since the time she invited Zeke Shepherd to play for the children. The supervisor from the certification board seems quite impressed with her work. And as I mentioned before, Paul Cox thinks she’s pretty near perfect.”
“And what do you think?” Ben’s voice was quiet, and he was watching her closely. “Are you going to back Paul’s recommendation to make her position permanent once she’s certified?”
“Will I have a choice?” Now she knew she sounded peevish. But Rachel Kaufmann had a way of inserting herself into Darcy’s private time with Ben, and she seemed capable of doing that without even being on the premises. “Let’s not talk about work, okay?”
“Sorry. This sauce is fabulous. What’s your secret?”
“Well, I could tell you but then I’d have to shoot you, so best to leave it a secret. After all, if you really like it and know that this is the only place you can get it, then that’s all to my advantage.”
“Touché.” He smiled, but it was evident as the meal continued that he was distracted.
Darcy tried several conversation openers that went nowhere. “You’re still in Tampa, aren’t you?” she asked after a long silence had stretched between them.
“Maybe. Probably.” He smiled and pushed his plate away as he leaned back and stretched his arms high over his head. He was looking out at the stars. “Do you think there’s something out there, Darcy? I mean some higher being that’s calling the shots?”
Religion was the very last topic of conversation she would have expected from Ben, but it was clear that this was something weighing on him. “I used to,” she admitted.
“What happened?”
“Nothing huge. I went off to the university and everything was about getting top grades so I could get into grad school, and by that time going to church had pretty much fallen by the wayside.”
“Do you miss it?”
Darcy did what she always did when she found herself asked a question that made her uncomfortable. She turned the tables. “Do you? I mean, your father was a minister, right?”
“Yeah. Pretty hard core at that.”
“Meaning?”
“I don’t know. He’d preach about a loving God and then turn around and assure everyone that this same loving God was going to punish all the sinners in terrible and vicious ways. If there was a hurricane or a tornado, that was God’s punishment or God’s warning. If a famine struck halfway around the world, that was God’s message that those people had sinned. If I thought unclean thoughts, God would know and there would be a price. I have to admit that I never really worked out how my feelings for my father affected my overall faith. I mean, the fact is that I do believe, but …”
“What brought all this on, Ben?”
He sighed heavily and stood up, moving to the railing of the balcony and continuing to study the night sky. “I don’t know. I keep saying that I don’t believe—that I’m a man of science. But there’s a part of me that still sometimes wishes maybe there was something greater than us out there. Rachel said …”
Rachel. Rachel. Rachel. Darcy thought she might actually scream. “Ben, Rachel Kaufmann is a devout Mennonite, and if she has you questioning what you believe, perhaps you can understand why I have such doubts about her as an ecumenical spiritual counselor especially for our younger patients.”
She knew that her voice sounded shrill and she was talking far too loudly. Still, she couldn’t seem to stop. “I don’t trust that woman, Ben. It was a mistake to hire her in the first place, and you may as well know that I plan to do everything I can to see that she is replaced at the end of her probationary period.”
Ben was staring at her as if she were someone he’d never seen before. To stop her tirade, she picked up her wine glass and drained the last dregs of wine. “Sorry about that,” she murmured. “Now I’ve gone and spoiled our lovely evening.” She started stacking their dishes.
“Hey.” Ben took the dishes from her and set them back on the table then led her inside to the sofa. “What’s going on here?”
She was so tempted to tell him. To finally admit that she was jealous of Rachel. But how ridiculous was that? There was nothing between Ben and Rachel. The very idea that there could be was ludicrous. He admired the woman as he did any other coworker. So what?
“Don’t mind me,” she said. “The truth is that from the first time we heard that woman’s voice on the phone it seemed as if everyone simply accepted her, embraced her as the perfect candidate for the job and a wonderful addition to the entire team. I’ve never known that kind of instant acceptance, Ben. All my life I have had to fight for everything I’ve ever achieved.”
“So maybe you should stop fighting.”
“Give up?”
“Open up,” he corrected. “Have a little trust in others.”
“Like Rachel,” she said flatly.
“Like anyone you come in contact with. Have a little faith in people.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in faith,” she said petulantly.
He hooked his forefinger under her chin to get her to look at him. “I never said I didn’t believe, and this is about having faith in people, Darcy.” He kissed her forehead then and stood up. “It’s late, and I want to get an early start back to Tampa tomorrow.”
“I could go with you.”
“Thanks, but it would be a waste of your time. Sally can’t have visitors right now. Maybe after she gets home.” He brought the dishes in from the balcony and set them in the sink. “Hate to leave you with all this …”
“Go on. You’ve had a long day—and my meltdown wasn’t exactly what you needed.”
“Stop that. You have a lot of pressure on you. The occasional meltdown is an occupational hazard. I’m glad I was here.” He walked to the door and then paused. “I would ask you”—he looked her in the eye—“to think about how your personal feelings might be influencing your view of Rachel, Darcy. I think she might be a very good addition to the team we’re trying to build at Gulf Coast.”
Rachel. Always Rachel. Darcy manufactured a smile. “Promise,” she said, holding up the three-fingered Girl Scout sign. “Give Sally my best.”
When Ben was gone, Darcy stood for a long time looking down the empty hallway toward the elevator. Not a single thing about this evening had gone according to plan. She had totally embarrassed herself and in the process made the serene Rachel look even more saintly.
With a growl of frustration, Darcy walked back inside her condo, slammed the door, and grabbed a fork. She took the cheesecake from the refrigerator, snapped off the springform pan, and carried the whole thing out to the balcony. There she curled herself into the chaise lounge and attacked the cake, shoveling bite after bite into her mouth until she felt as physically sick as she did emotionally wounded.
Chapter 19
Was that your mom?”
Justin jumped when he heard Derek’s low voice behind him after he and his mom had left the meeting with Mortimer and she had gone outside to wait for the bus to the hospital.
“Yeah.”
“Fat Sally told on us?”
Justin knew he should defend Sally, especially since she was sick again. “No. Mortimer figured it out.”
“Yeah, right.” Derek smirked. “What’s with your mom and that hat? Is she some kind of nun or something?”
So here it was—the moment Justin had dreaded from the very first day. “We’re Mennonite,” he muttered. “I have to go.”
Derek grabbed him by the shoulder and held on. “Whoa, dude. You mean you wear the dorky suspenders and stuff?”
“My mom dresses in the traditional way. Kids don’t have to until …”
The bell rang, but Derek didn’t budge.
“What did you tell Mortimer?”
“Nothing. Like I said, he’d already figured it out. He knows that you’ve been copying my homework, and he told me not to let you have it anymore. He’s going to give you special tutoring during study period.”
Derek let out a howl that passed for a laugh. “Yeah, that’ll happen. Now listen up, Kaufmann. You got us into this mess—or your little girlfriend did—so somebody pays. If you don’t want to be that somebody, then you need to be sure Fat Sally gets the message loud and clear.”
“She’s back in the hospital.”
“Even better. You live at her house, right?”
“Next door.” Justin did not like the way Derek was clutching his shoulder and looking at him. His eyes were wild and scary.
“Get me her glove,” he ordered.
“Her glove?”
“Her baseball glove, stupid.”
“I can’t….”
“Here’s the deal, Kaufmann. Either you get me that glove or life as you know it is going to change big-time.”
He pinched Justin’s shoulder hard and then turned and left school.
Justin had seen what Derek did to those he didn’t like. Once he had seen Derek actually shove one of the other boys up against a locker and hold him there until the boy nodded and promised to do anything Derek asked. It occurred to Justin that he wasn’t really sure exactly how Derek might carry out his threat to make his life miserable, but he had no doubt that it would happen unless he got Sally’s baseball glove.