by A. S. Green
But no. That wasn’t it. They chose to erase Bennet, their living son, from their lives. How could anyone be so cruel? It makes me sick. I thought I knew the Masons. Turns out, I didn’t know anything.
When I sit up, still sideways on the couch, I press the heels of my hands against my eyes and begin to rock rhythmically. The cushions behind me compress with weight. The room spins. I am as disconnected from my body as a kite that’s lost its string.
Andrew’s warm hand is on my shoulder. He turns me so I’m sitting the way I should be. He pulls me close against his chest. It’s nice. Solid. Permanent. There’s been so much loss tonight; I want something to stay.
“Shhh,” he says. “Just breathe.”
I take a deep breath and my body starts to settle. My heartbeat evens out. My mind slowly clears.
“I’m sorry,” he says softly against my hair. “Benny has always taken exactly what he wants, without any thought for anyone else.”
Yes, I think. Bennet was once going to leave here. Leave Doyle—leave Samson—at his agent’s first mention of a better place.
But no. No. That’s not how it was. Was it? Bennet loved that dog. Oh, Samson! My stomach constricts, and Andrew tightens his hold.
“I see that now,” he continues. “I couldn’t when I was younger. Benny kept telling me that he had to go, but the truth is he chose to leave us. He abandoned our family. You don’t know how much he made my parents suffer.”
“But your dad,” I whisper. I’m afraid to ask the question. To think that he may have been abusing Andrew, too, all those years, without me ever knowing. The thought is too much to bear, but I have to know. “Did he hurt you?”
“Hurt me?” he asks, pulling away so he can better see my face. “Why would he? What kind of bullshit did Benny feed you?”
“His finger…”
Andrew sighs. “The two of them could get into it, but Benny always knew how to push Dad’s buttons. All he had to do was toe the line, but no, not him. Whatever went down between them, it was a mutual thing.”
I shake my head. I don’t want to talk about it. I saw Bennet’s scars. They were real. Nobody asks for that.
“Listen, Katherine. Please know I’m not the bad guy in this. If I had come up earlier…”
Andrew’s voice tapers off and the room falls silent, save for the whine of the refrigerator and the creak of the foundation.
How would things have been different if Andrew had come earlier? Who would I be? What would I have missed? I think of Bennet’s face, drowsy in the early morning light. The featherbed beneath us. The cool air blowing in off the lake. My future laid wide open before me.
Andrew squeezes my shoulder. “Are you feeling any better?”
I don’t know how I could. I’ve been lied to, humiliated, and nearly killed. Sam is dead and never coming back. How could I ever feel better when he died trying to save me?
“Maybe,” I lie, clutching the blankets.
“Good,” he says, his tone gentle. “Because, if you’re up for it, it sounds like there’s something else we have to talk about.”
“What?” I ask, fingering the fringe on one of the blankets.
“You told people I was your boyfriend?” When I look at him, his Adam’s apple bobs. “Why does my brother think we were planning to get…married?”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. I try again. “I-I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For having embarrassed you like that.”
Andrew’s eyes warm, and he smiles, exhaling quickly through his nose. “I’m not embarrassed.”
“But—” I don’t understand. I watch his face for some signal, something to tell me what he’s thinking, but it’s indecipherable.
“Right now I’m more interested in knowing why you lied to them.”
I push myself to the opposite end of the couch. It’s time. I had wanted to do it before; I’d been planning to do it as soon as the party was over. There’s nothing more to lose.
“Katherine. Tell me.”
“I didn’t mean to lie. It just slipped out. Maybe…subconsciously…I thought saying it out loud would make it real. After that, people just believed it. I didn’t know how to take it back.”
He doesn’t respond. Several painful seconds tick by. When I finally dare to look at him, he’s staring at me blankly. I flush.
“Oh, come on,” I say in exasperation. “All these years? You had to have known how I felt about you. How could you not know?”
And there. The words I’d kept bottled up for nearly seven years are out there, naked and on display. Andrew continues to stare at me like I am actually naked. Reflexively, I pull the blankets tighter around me.
“I’m sorry,” I say, for what feels like the millionth time, and move as if to stand up. “I—”
“No,” he says, shifting across the couch and pulling me back down. “Don’t be sorry, Katherine. Be anything but sorry. I’ve made a huge mistake.”
“No, you haven’t. It’s—”
“The underwear.”
“What?”
“You said it was your subconscious that made you say I was your boyfriend. Well, it wasn’t a conscious thought on my part when I bought you all those things. I thought it was a funny joke. But…maybe Macie’s suspicion about my motives wasn’t that far off.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying maybe…subconsciously…I was trying to keep you for myself.”
His hand glides over my shoulder and behind my neck. There’s a tremor in his fingers.
We stare into each other’s eyes. Neither of us blinks. He’s hesitant. I’m terrified. His other hand presses into my side, then he leans forward, pausing for another second before his soft lips find mine.
It’s all happening so quickly that my brain is whirling. There are multiple voices arguing in my head: This is what you want. This is what you’ve always wanted. So why the hell aren’t you kissing him back?
Instead of sinking into the kiss, I’m numb to what’s happening. All I can think of is Samson. Dead. Trying to save me. And Bennet! What will he do without that dog? How could Andrew choose this moment to kiss me?
My cheeks are wet with regret. The kiss is wrong. The lips, wrong. I want Bennet. I want to hear his voice. I want to trust in his explanation for the lies he told. I want to give him that chance. Why hasn’t he come? What is taking him so long?
Andrew’s kiss ends just as quickly as it started.
He leans back.
I drag my hand over my mouth to wipe away the evidence of what just happened. It’s the only thing about tonight I can wipe away.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his head bowed. “That was stupid and impulsive. I shouldn’t have done that. Not so soon after…”
He stands up abruptly and walks toward the door. I recognize his posture and the firm set of his jaw. His mind is like mine. Make a plan. Think it through, but make it quickly. I’m glad for his instincts because I can’t think anymore. Not tonight.
“We need to get out of here,” he says. “You need to leave this place. Tonight.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and checks the time. “There’s still one last ferry. We’ve got twenty minutes. We could be home before morning.”
I can practically read his mind as he calculates the trip. There wouldn’t be any traffic. It would be a long night, but we could pull into a motel if he got tired, or if there were too many deer.
“I’m not going yet,” I say, my voice like stone.
Andrew shakes his head and takes two steps back in my direction. “There’s too much bad stuff here. You’ll feel better once you’re home.”
“I’m staying for Lucy until Calloway gets back.”
Andrew’s lips press together. “All right. One more night.”
“All right,” I say, as if it was his decision to make. I don’t care enough to argue about semantics. I stand up stiffly. “Are you okay with the couch?”
Before he can respond, t
here is a knock on the door. Bennet, I think, my eyes darting toward the sound. He’s come. And I let out an audible sigh.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Katherine
Never in a million years did I expect to see Doyle standing on my doorstep. The surprise of it nearly overshadows my disappointment. I glance over his shoulder, expecting to see Bennet, but he’s nowhere I can see. Doyle has come alone. Bennet isn’t coming. The message is clear.
“Captain Doyle.” I work to keep my voice steady. Bennet won’t come, but he’s obviously looking for a report. I want him to know I’m all right. I’m safe. I’ll be okay. Eventually.
“Katherine,” he says. His eyes travel all the way down to my feet, then back to my face again. He’s checking for damage.
“This is a surprise,” I say, my voice shaking.
“You all right?” he asks, as if his survey of my body is in doubt.
I give him a flickering smile. “Fine.”
He drags a hand over the stubble on his jaw, and it makes a scraping sound. “Scared us tonight, sweetheart.”
“Me, too,” I say.
“Wouldn’t wanna lose you.” His dark, close-set eyes are intense, and I have to look away.
“Thanks.”
“You leavin’ soon?”
I nod and study my feet. “Tomorrow.”
When I look up, it’s just in time to see a flicker of pain in his eyes. I don’t know what to make of it. I can’t believe my exit will weigh on him. He’s seen his fair share of summer girls come and go.
Doyle’s eyes drift to the darkening sky. “It’s probably none of my business…”
“Yeah.” I smile as kindly as I can. “Probably not.”
He folds his arms across his chest and shuffles his feet in the gravel. “It was killin’ the kid to keep the truth from you like that.”
My chest squeezes. “You knew, too?”
“He did it for you.”
I glance over my shoulder at Andrew, who’s leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, and scowling. I step outside with Doyle and close the door behind us.
I ignore the burning in my eyes as I try to explain. “Bennet made a fool out of me.” And he won’t be coming to explain.
Doyle grimaces. “He made me promise to butt out. He knew it was a risk not tellin’ you, knew it might work out like this.”
I study Doyle’s face, trying to read it, waiting to see if he’ll say more, but it looks like he’s taking his promise to heart. I turn away.
“Wait.”
“What’s there to say?” I ask, my voice traced with fatigued impatience.
Doyle frowns, but he doesn’t seem angry. More like frustrated with himself. “Bennet’s a funny guy. Real serious sometimes, kind of sad, and when he says somethin’, I’m not likely to forget it. He said it wasn’t so much that he wanted you to choose him over his brother, just that he wanted you to choose you.”
I roll my shoulders back, and my nose stings when the moisture builds in my eyes. That was exactly what Macie wanted, too. Her words come back to haunt me: “This may be your last chance to do something…just for you. Not for your mom. Not for Andrew. Not even for me. You need this job for more than just the money.”
So, did I accomplish what I came here to do? My gaze goes to the road, imagining Main Street, Tremblay’s Grocery Store, Art Musique, the fish shop, and Johnson’s B & B below.
I’m leaving Little Bear, but I didn’t fail. I know what I’m about now. I know what I’m not about, too. There won’t be any law school in my future. I can run a party-planning business anywhere. I just can’t do it here. And when it comes to love…Bennet taught me what it is. And what it isn’t.
Doyle reaches up with a rough hand and wraps it gently over my shoulder.
“I lost a summer girl of my own. Years ago, of course.”
I understand him now, but there’s nothing I can say to that. I don’t think he expects me to say anything, anyway.
“I’m sorry,” I say, “for you, I truly am. But I can’t do this right now. Thank you for coming, but this will have to be good night.”
I turn and go back into the house. Andrew crosses the kitchen to meet me.
“I’m going to bed,” I say. “You okay with the couch?”
“Sure.”
“Good.”
I’m at the bedroom door, when there’s a knock at the front door again. Andrew goes to the window and peers through the glass.
“Sounds like he’s still out there. You got something more to say to him?”
“No. We said everything there was to say. Tell Doyle I need to sleep.”
“Sure thing, Katherine.”
There’s another knock. I close the bedroom door. My Sponge Bob negligee is tangled in the sheets where I left it this morning. I can smell Bennet in the room. I nearly turn around, thinking I’ll find him standing there. I feel his arms envelop me, the sound of his voice in my ear, his breath hot against my neck.
But it’s just a waking dream.
I look to the bed and stutter-step when I find Lucy already there. Waiting for me. She puts her nose between her front feet and whimpers. I go to her instantly.
“Good dog,” I say, stroking her ear. “Good dog.”
I undress and climb under the covers. Lucy drapes her body over mine. Always protecting.
My arms wrap around her. From out in the other room, two low voices are exchanging words. Syllables clipped. The conversation short. The door closes, and Doyle is gone.
“I guess this is it then, Lu,” I whisper against her soft ear.
They prick, and she lifts her head for a second before resting it on my shoulder.
“Calloway is coming home tomorrow.” I duck my chin so I can see her face. “There’s no reason for me to stay anymore.” My chest squeezes, and I fight against the pain.
Her eyes dart left and right, searching mine. She whimpers.
“I suppose you wouldn’t want to come home with me?” I ask, trying to find humor to shield against the truth.
She whines and licks the underside of my jaw. The kitchen clock beats out the seconds. How much longer? Will Bennet come at all? I have to believe he will. He won’t throw us away so easily. But if he doesn’t come…then that will say more than words ever could. It will be like he shouted it in my ear. If he wants me to go, then that’s all he’ll need to say. That, being nothing.
Andrew is moving around in the kitchen. I think I hear him on the phone. There’s some shuffling and the couch groans. I check the time. I’ve been back for hours. It’s eleven forty-two.
Bennet isn’t coming. The realization rips a ragged tear in my heart. My lungs seize from lack of oxygen. It’s like I’m drowning all over again, but this time he won’t be pulling me out.
I blink. The room swims.
My thumb strokes the spot between Lu’s eyes.
“You’ll be good when I’m gone, right?” The words catch in my throat. “Stay away from the fish?”
Lucy shifts and nudges her nose against my arm.
“Because I’m going to miss you.”
A low rumble of understanding vibrates in Lucy’s chest.
“So much.”
I can’t bear to say what comes next. I can’t bring myself to say it. So I close my eyes and think it instead.
Good-bye.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Bennet
My back aches and my eyes burn. I catch a glimpse of myself in my bathroom mirror and have to turn away. Shallow claw marks stripe my chest. My blood is still crusted at the corners of my mouth. Sam’s blood is streaked across my cheek. There’s fresh dirt under my fingernails. Sunlight streams through the blinds, but I haven’t slept.
How could I? Every time I tried to shut my eyes, the image of the bear resurfaced. The vision of Katherine on the ground, small and vulnerable, shook me. I came so close to losing her. Again.
Lunging for the toilet, I heave until my stomach seizes with its emptiness, and I collap
se on the floor. The tile is cool against my clammy skin.
How did Katherine fare the night? The fact that she wasn’t hurt doesn’t bring me as much relief as it should. She’s still lost to me. I used to be able to feel her without touching. I’d know she was close, know she was watching. Now, I can’t feel anything. Not her. Not pain. Not even grief for Sam. Novocain.
I need to try to speak to her again, even if she’d prefer to sleep. Even if she won’t listen to my explanations—how I wanted her to decide what she wanted from life all on her own, without Andrew making her feel guilty, or me dropping a bomb that would distort her feelings. We wouldn’t be “D’Arcy and Bennet” anymore; we would be “Katherine and Andrew’s brother.” If she learned the truth too early, I would have had no chance—still, I need to try to explain.
My own selfish motivations will come as no surprise to her. It was selfish, and it was dishonest. I know that. But if I had to do it again, I doubt I would have played it any differently. I would have grabbed on to any chance, any opportunity, to be with her.
It’s hard to justify any of that now.
“Fuck!” I punch the wall. The sheetrock buckles with the impact and seeing the dent brings me back to myself. There’s got to be something I can say, something she’ll stand still long enough to hear. It can’t just end like this.
I sit, then force myself to stand. The floor is covered in discarded clothes. Dirt from my shoes. One more time, I think. I’ll go up one more time. Try to explain myself. Say my peace.
I scrub water over my face and grab my pants off the foot of the bed. They’re still damp. The belt hangs limp from the loops. I fasten the buckle and grab a T-shirt. I check the clock and don’t take time to look for socks.
“Sam!” I call, slapping my thigh. I wait for the sound of his toenails on the wood floor, his huffing gallop. But the house is silent.
And I remember.
I gulp down a painful lump and blink furiously.
Right, I think. Right.
Outside, the air is cold and the morning dew soaks through my shoes. I don’t take my truck because I can’t bring myself to go through the trees. Better to stick to the beach where the memories of last night can’t press in.