But she needed him now. He understood the darkness she would have to learn to live with in a way neither her friends nor family would. He had to offer her that understanding, whether she liked him or not.
He opted for some chinos and a clean black T-shirt then headed over to Van Dusen’s place.
He’d only been to Gray’s a couple of times, but remembered the way. Within weeks of taking over the job in West Fork, he’d had the community mapped out in his mind. Given an address, he could drive straight there without hesitation. As long as it was his town, he was determined to know it well.
He rang the doorbell, wondering if Gray had taken the day off, but it was Charlotte who opened the door.
“Ben.” She looked glad to see him, which came as something of a surprise to him. She hadn’t been much friendlier than her sister in recent weeks. Either she’d gotten mad because he’d failed to eliminate Hardesty as a threat to Faith, or she sensed that he’d hurt her twin. He wasn’t sure which. But something definitely eased on her face now because he was here. “Come in. Faith and I are just finishing breakfast. Have you eaten?”
He stepped in. “Yeah. Thanks. I’d appreciate some coffee, though.”
She appraised him more carefully. “I don’t suppose you got back to bed last night, did you?”
“No.”
She bit her lip and said in a low voice, “I don’t think Faith slept at all.”
“No, I don’t suppose she did.”
Charlotte hesitated, then led the way toward the kitchen.
This floor of Gray’s house was open. Ben knew there was a home office with walls and a door, but otherwise the living room, dining area and kitchen all flowed into each other, separated by furniture and function rather than any kind of partition. A river rock fireplace dominated one side of the room, while floor-to-ceiling windows looked out at the deck and the valley below on the south-facing wall. Gleaming bamboo floors united the spaces. The place was spectacular.
Today, Ben saw nothing but Faith, sitting at the table. He felt a familiar lurch in his chest made more painful by the fact that she looked even worse than he’d expected.
“Hey,” he said, keeping his deep voice soft. He pulled out a chair across the table from her. Behind him, Charlotte went into the kitchen and he heard the sound of a cupboard door opening.
Faith had been looking at a piece of toast she was shredding. Crumbles dribbled from her fingers onto the plate. Charlotte might have finished breakfast, but all Faith seemed to have done was push the scrambled eggs around and demolish the toast.
At the sound of his voice, her head lifted with aching slowness. Her eyes found him, but took longer to focus. Her forehead creased. “Chief Wheeler.” Pause. “I suppose you have more questions.”
“No more questions.”
She kept gazing at him with seeming perplexity. “Then why are you here?”
The honesty of her surprise was like a quick knife sliding between his ribs. The hell of it was, he deserved it.
“To see how you’re doing. To talk to you.”
“I’m fine. Just…anxious to go home.”
She actually sounded like she meant it. He turned to look at Charlotte, who set a mug of coffee in front of him. She gave a small, helpless shrug.
“Somebody is going to have to clean up the mess first. Replace the window glass, too.”
“And who do you think that will be?” Faith asked.
God damn. She really thought every burden in the world was hers to carry, that she’d be the one to scrub her ex-husband’s blood from the floorboards.
Charlotte sat down, too. “Me,” she said. Her voice was hard. “I can clean up Rory’s blood without a qualm. You are most certainly not doing it, Faith. And Gray’s already called the glass company.”
Ben nodded. “Where’s Don?”
“He had a bite to eat and went back downstairs to lie down.” Charlotte pushed her own plate away and crossed her arms on the table. “He’s looking pretty ragged this morning.”
“At least he can handle stairs now,” Ben observed. Although he bet the process of getting up and down had been slow and painful.
Charlotte nodded. Faith was now frowning at her sister. “I can’t let you do that by yourself.”
“You can and you will. For God’s sake, Faith!”
“Why don’t you stay here for a few days?” Ben suggested.
Faith shook her head. “No. Dad and I will be more comfortable once we’re home. I won’t let Rory keep me out of our house.”
Incredulous, he stared at her, trying to decide if she was being strong and determined, or delusional. He wished she’d at least try to eat that breakfast. He’d have sworn another five pounds had dropped off her in the few days since he’d stopped by the barn. Her face was gaunt, her cheekbones too protuberant, her chin sharp. Her astonishing eyes looked sunken, shadowed. Even her hair had somehow lost vitality and shine, like drying corn husks. His gut twisted, and he wanted nothing in the world so much as to take her home with him and do nothing but pamper and soothe her.
Some of the sharpness engendered by his fear for her gave his voice an edge. “You didn’t eat a bite, did you?”
She glanced down at her plate. “Of course I did.”
“Uh-huh. Faith, I know what you feel like this morning, but you’ve got to take care of yourself.”
She lifted her face and met his eyes, her own eerily empty. “Isn’t that what I did last night?”
Ben stood abruptly and circled the table, pulling out the chair beside hers and sitting in it so that his knees bumped her thighs and he was close enough to see the lines of strain beside her eyes and every separate, dark gold lash. “Last night you did what you had to do,” he said quietly. “Now you need to keep doing it. When’s the last time you really ate? I remember thinking when I first met Charlotte that she was living on nerves. Now I see the same thing in you.”
She shook her head.
“Yes.” He lifted a hand to stroke her face, as if by molding the shape of bones and flesh he could help her see herself more truly. “There’s not much left of you.”
As though by rote, Faith repeated, “I’m fine. I just want to go home.”
How much less fine would she have to be before admitting anything was wrong?
Across the table, Charlotte made an incoherent sound and sprang to her feet. “If I make you a raspberry smoothie, do you think you could get that down?”
Again, it seemed to take Faith ages to transfer her attention to her sister, but finally she nodded. “I’ll try. If that will make you feel better.”
Charlotte gave a fierce nod. “It would.”
“Okay.”
Moving like a whirlwind in the kitchen, Charlotte began pulling ingredients from the refrigerator and in moments was feeding them into a blender. Ben kept watching Faith, who seemed to have put him completely from her mind. She was struggling, he suspected, to hold on to one thought at a time, to deal with the demands of one person. Her exhaustion was absolute, her innate dignity all that was holding her together.
What she needed was a sedative. Which he knew damn well she’d refuse to take. Ben’s eyes narrowed. Would it be ethical to slip something in the smoothie? Her dad might have something with him that would knock her out… But Charlotte already had the blender whirring, and Ben didn’t think he could move fast enough.
Frowning, he decided she’d have to collapse sooner or later. She might be better able to sleep in the daylight.
Charlotte turned off the blender and carefully poured the raspberry-red sludge into a glass and carried it to the table. “Here, honey,” she said, in an uncharacteristically tender voice. “Now drink. You promised.”
After a minute Faith picked up the glass and sipped, then took a longer swallow. “Thank you,” she murmured.
Charlotte looked at Ben. “Can you stay for a while? If it’s okay, I can go to the house right now.”
Not liking the idea of either of them scrubbing up bl
ood, he argued, “I can do that.”
She shook her head. “I know where cleaning supplies are, and I can toss the bedding in the wash. Dad’s, too. Maybe get some other housecleaning done, if you can hang around for a couple of hours. Talk her into napping.”
As if their conversation was simply white noise she could easily ignore, Faith was taking small drinks of the smoothie and staring blankly into space.
“I can stay,” Ben promised. “Don’t worry.”
Charlotte gave an almost laugh. “Yeah. Right. Don’t worry. Okay. Faith, honey.” She waited until her twin focused on her. “I’m going over to the house to do some things. You finish every drop. Then talk to Ben. Or take a nap. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
That roused Faith from her lethargy. She pushed back from the table as if to stand up. “I can…”
“No, you can’t. I won’t let you. Just…let me do this, okay?” Her sister hurried around the table, gave her a quick, hard hug, and then grabbed her purse and bustled out of the house.
Faith sat very still. She didn’t look at Ben when she said, “You don’t have to stay. I’m not going to throw myself off the bluff or something.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Ben didn’t move either. “Finish the smoothie, like you promised Charlotte, and then we’ll talk, or you’ll nap. Two choices. Either are okay by me.”
She looked at him from those sunken eyes and said, “You can’t make me.” Then she went back to sipping her drink and pretending he wasn’t there.
His jaw clenched. She might think she could get rid of him that easily, but she was mistaken. He wasn’t going anywhere. Not now, not in the days to come. Not as long as she needed him.
And she did need him, even if she hadn’t figured that out yet.
CHAPTER FIVE
FAITH AWAKENED SLOWLY, reluctantly, surprised when she had to slit her eyes against sunlight flooding the bed. Could she possibly have slept so late?
She stiffened, memories tumbling back. She was at Gray’s house. In an effort to escape from Ben, she’d come downstairs to the library and the air mattress that had been her bed last night. She couldn’t bear to have him keep watching her, his eyes dark and somehow tender. Certain she couldn’t sleep, she had picked out a book from Gray’s collection and lain down. Had she even made it through the first page? She must have conked right out.
Fully awake now, Faith became aware of two things. She’d fallen asleep on top of the bedding, but she was now covered. And she heard someone else breathing, slow and deep, so close she could feel it on the nape of her neck.
She wasn’t alone on the air mattress, which explained why it felt so firm; Ben’s weight was compressing the other side.
Apparently, when Ben said he wasn’t going anywhere, he really meant it. She’d acquired a shadow.
She tried very hard to work up some anger. It took some nerve for him to climb right into bed beside her. But anger didn’t want to stir; she couldn’t even seem to summon annoyance. She felt too numb, except when she stole sidelong peeks at those memories of last night. And then she felt…
No. Don’t remember.
Faith squinted to see the clock on the DVD player, and was surprised to discover that it was now midafternoon. Char must have gotten back hours ago.
Wincing at the idea of her sister having taken on the gruesome task of cleaning up Rory’s blood, Faith tensed to slip out of bed. Preferably without waking Ben, who must still be asleep to be breathing like that.
Moving carefully, she inched off the mattress, then stood and gazed down at the man who lay sprawled on his back atop the covers, definitely still sleeping.
He looked oddly defenseless with his eyes closed and his lean face relaxed, one arm above his head, the other splayed to one side. He’d been up all night, too, she remembered. Although he must have stopped at home at some point, because she was pretty sure he was wearing different clothes than he had been in the middle of the night. Plus, given how dark his hair was, he’d have a heavier growth of beard if he hadn’t shaved. She hadn’t noticed earlier. She’d avoided looking at him at all this morning.
Something inside her softened as she studied him. Last night, he’d seemed to know exactly what she needed. She hadn’t wanted anybody to touch her, but she remembered the way she’d soaked in his body heat when he insisted on holding her anyway, how comforting the steady beat of his heart had been. If she were completely honest with herself, she had felt bereft when he’d lifted her off the safety and comfort of his lap.
She should leave him to sleep, but she kept standing there, disconcerted by how different he looked without irritation drawing his heavy, dark eyebrows together, or frustration compressing his mouth. Had she ever seen him smile with delight or amusement?
Charlotte probably had, Faith thought with a pang. She’d probably even heard him laugh. The only emotions Faith seemed to stir in him were exasperation, pity and guilt. She couldn’t decide which she hated the most.
With no warning at all, his eyes opened, and her pulse took an uncomfortable leap. They stared at each other for a moment that stretched too long. He didn’t seem to be confused about where he was, or slow to wake. It was as if he’d known exactly where she was standing even before he opened his eyes.
“Trying to sneak away?” he asked.
“Exactly where would I sneak away to? I don’t have a car here, remember? Or were you really afraid I was going to fling myself off the bluff?”
He still hadn’t moved a muscle, just lay there watching her. “I didn’t think you should be alone.”
Faith let out a huff of annoyance, surprised to find she could feel something after all. “You expected me to curl into a ball and sob?”
“No. I was afraid you’d have nightmares.”
Oh.
She had to wait a moment for the lump in her throat to ease before she could speak. “I didn’t.”
“You will,” he said softly.
Faith wrapped her arms around herself and, without another word, turned and walked out. She heard the rustle as he rose to his feet behind her, and could all but feel him breathing down her neck on the way upstairs. A part of her wanted to whirl and order him to back off. That would have required too much effort, though. What difference did it make if he was right behind her? He’d go away soon enough. He could probably hardly wait to go away. Ben Wheeler was great to have around in a crisis, but not interested in hanging around afterward.
At least, not hanging around her.
Charlotte came out of the home office when Faith reached the top of the stairs. Her gaze was anxious.
“Did you have a good nap?”
“Apparently. I seem to have slept for five or six hours.”
“I hope that doesn’t keep you awake tonight.” Char looked past her sister to Ben. “You got some sleep, too?”
“Yeah, thanks. Although I think that mattress has lost some air.”
Char smiled. “I doubt it was really designed for two. Especially when one of the two is as large as you are.”
“I’m not complaining,” he said amiably. “I didn’t expect to get more than a catnap.”
Faith asked, “Where’s Dad?”
“Still downstairs in the guest room. I took him some lunch earlier. He was reading, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he’s taking a nap, too.”
Faith cleared her throat. “Did you…?”
Understanding her with no trouble, Char met her eyes. “Yes. I left your quilt spread out on the lawn, though. I didn’t want to put it in the dryer.” She paused. “I think I managed to get all the blood out of it.”
The quilt had been pieced and hand-quilted by their great-grandmother in a flower-garden pattern, the cheerful pink and green and yellow fabrics faded to softer hues by the years. The Russells had several quilts Great-Grandma Abigail had made. Faith’s mother had always been careful about washing them, and especially about drying them. Eighty-year-old fabrics could be torn easily, even by the weight of the
wet quilt hanging from a clothesline.
Faith hated knowing that she would never want to sleep under that particular quilt again.
Feeling the pressure of Ben’s gaze on her even though she didn’t look at him, she said, “I’m thirsty,” and went to the kitchen. She was very conscious of a low-voiced exchange between her sister and the police chief; he was probably making his excuses now that there was no need for him to stay.
But no. Char said brightly, “You must both be starved. Let me heat up some soup and make sandwiches.”
“I wouldn’t mind,” Ben said, and Faith knew he had decided she wouldn’t eat if he wasn’t there to insist.
With a sigh, she sat down at the dining-room table and waited docilely, still refusing to look at him. She wished he wouldn’t look at her, either. She must be a sight, puffy eyes and hair frizzed by the pillow and pulling out of her braid. She was sure the contrast with Char was painful. Them being identical twins would make it especially plain. Char had obviously showered and changed after getting back from the horrible task she’d insisted on taking over. She now wore jeans and a cap-sleeved T-shirt that exposed tanned arms that had more muscle than when she’d come back to West Fork two months ago. Her cheeks were a healthy pink, her short hair cute. She’d even made the effort to put in tiny hoop earrings, which she didn’t always.
Faith had seen herself in the mirror that morning, after she’d showered. She’d averted her eyes quickly. If the image in the mirror had been a photograph, she wouldn’t have recognized herself in that gaunt face with purple bruises under eyes that seemed to have receded.
She hadn’t been able to bring herself to care much, though, and she didn’t now, either, beyond the passing, wistful realization. What difference did it make what she looked like, so long as she could pull herself together enough not to frighten her students come Monday morning?
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