“Wow,” Ben said. “Is she okay now? Are you okay?”
The genuine concern in his voice warmed Tara’s heart. This was the Ben she knew. The one she remembered. The one who, like King Benjamin in the Book of Mormon, cared about others.
“I’m fine,” she said. “More than fine. Better than I’ve ever been in my life.” She wished her words were more eloquent, that she could better express what she’d learned and felt. “I’m not the same woman you offered to help at the airport last year. And in a way, it’s your fault.”
“I wish I could take credit,” Ben said. “But you’re the one who sought your friend out again, who made the changes in your life.”
“Yes, but you planted the seed—so they say, or sing, if you’re in Primary.”
“Must have been some gardener who took over afterward,” Ben said.
“You could say that.” Tara smiled at him, both relieved and grateful that he seemed to believe her. “Jane is actually an amazing gardener. Her yard is like something out of Better Homes and Gardens.”
“Not quite what I meant.” He chuckled, then his face grew serious again. “I really am sorry about the way I acted last night. I jumped to conclusions. I had no right—”
“No, you didn’t,” she agreed. “And yes, you did seem to jump to some conclusions about my visit. Care to share those with me?”
“Not really.” He looked past her, out to the distant cornfield. “Though I suppose, to be fair, I should.”
“Go on,” Tara urged. Some part of her knew it would have been better, more Christlike, to tell him he didn’t need to explain, that she forgave him already, but that other part of her—the one that always wanted to know all about what was going on with people—took over. More repenting tonight. She glanced at her watch. It was barely eight o’clock in the morning. At this rate, she was in for one long evening prayer.
“I was in a relationship earlier this year,” Ben said, still not looking at her. “It ended badly. I lost in more ways than one.” He paused, as if considering what to say next. “I guess, yesterday, with the way the conversation went at dinner, and thinking about how you showed up here out of the blue—” He pulled his gaze from the field back to Tara’s face “—I thought you might be here because you wanted something. You know, money or—”
“Ahh,” Tara said, beginning to understand. “I can see why Jane’s old Jeep and my new business didn’t impress you.”
“But that’s not all,” Ben hastened to add. “I had no idea that you’d come to ask me to baptize you. But that you had traveled all this way to see me sort of implied . . .”
“I see,” Tara said, and she did and suddenly felt very foolish. “It’s not like that, Ben. I know we had those . . . moments . . . in Colorado, but I didn’t come for romantic reasons.” Mostly I didn’t, anyway.
“Good.” His smile was one of relief. “Because right now I’m not looking for a relationship. Nothing serious, I mean.”
“I promise to be completely unserious,” Tara said. “Except for right now. I’m sorry about last night too. After I went upstairs, I spent the evening chastising myself for losing my temper.”
“I hope your mental flogging didn’t last as long as mine,” Ben said. “I hardly slept. I haven’t felt that lousy about anything since—” He stopped abruptly. Tara almost missed the flash of hurt in his eyes.
“So anyway,” Ben continued, “I was hoping to make it up to you. You’ve come all this way. You could stay for a day or two and—” He shrugged. “I don’t know. See the place?” He nodded toward the car and her paintings inside. “If you’re interested in Church history, I could take you up to Kirtland.”
“I’d like that,” Tara said. “And will you consider—” Now she was the one having trouble finishing her sentence. She’d already asked once if Ben would baptize her, and she’d completely botched it. Maybe now wasn’t the time to ask again, but this was what she’d come for. She wanted to know. She didn’t expect or want him to baptize her here. She needed to be back in Bainbridge with Jane and Peter and the missionaries. But she wanted to know if Ben would at least think about it, if he truly believed her.
“You let me know when and where,” Ben said, as if he’d heard her thoughts. “And I’ll be there. Dressed in white.”
“Thanks.” To Tara’s dismay, her eyes filled with tears.
“I’m honored you would ask.” Ben started to reach for her suitcase then stopped. He hesitated then took a step forward, put his arm around Tara, and pulled her into an awkward embrace.
“Welcome to Ohio, Sister Mollagen.”
Forty-Two
Ben took Tara’s suitcase upstairs while she waited in the kitchen. As he stepped into the bedroom, he almost ran into Deb, who was just coming out.
“What’s that you’ve got there?” she asked, a teasing smile on her face.
“Don’t start,” he warned. The last thing he needed was Deb on his case, playing matchmaker.
“Tell me you apologized properly, and I’ll leave you alone,” she said.
“I apologized. I don’t know if it was proper, but I’ll make it up to her today.”
“Good,” Deb said. She followed him into the hall. “I’m glad you talked her into staying another day.”
“Could be more than one.” Ben started down the stairs. “We didn’t discuss specifics.”
“Smart man.” Deb pushed him from behind. “Now hurry up. I’m starving.”
Josh was at the stove already, flipping pancakes. “How many does everyone want?” he asked as they entered the kitchen.
“Six,” Ben said. “I didn’t get any sleep last night and am gonna need some serious carbs to make up for it today.”
“You’ll get some serious pounds if you eat that many.” Deb crossed the room to Josh, turned him away from the stove, and planted a long, juicy kiss on his lips. “See?” she said turning to Tara, when at last the kiss ended.
“I’d have to be blind to miss that one,” Tara said.
“Enough of that in my kitchen,” Ben said, irritated with his sister’s ridiculous behavior. “Did you make orange juice yet, Josh?”
“Nope.” Josh flipped a pancake and caught it perfectly on the center of the pan. “You expect me to do everything around here?”
“You eat everything around here.” Ben pulled a can of frozen juice from the freezer.
Deb took a stack of plates from the cupboard and handed them to Tara. “Josh doesn’t really live with us,” she said, as if that needed explaining or something.
“He just lives here,” Ben said.
“Hey.” Josh pointed the spatula at Ben. “Cut me some slack. I’ve been doing my best to persuade her to leave you and those pigs. I even promised we could get a dog or something.”
“You know I like you better than the pigs,” Deb said.
“I don’t know.” Ben shook his head as he watched Josh take a sausage from a plate on the counter and down it in one bite. “Sometimes there isn’t much difference.”
* * *
Ben slowed his steps so Tara could keep up as they walked across the grass toward the cornfield. He was pleased the shoes she wore were far more sensible than the heels he remembered her wearing last December. But though she was trying to fit in, she still had city girl stamped all over her. The way she was picking her way across the yard—side-stepping areas that appeared wet or dirty—amused him.
Oh the fun I could have. Possibilities for practical jokes and fun at her expense rolled through his mind before he could stop them. But I will stop them, he vowed. Tara wasn’t the same woman he’d met last December who needed taking down a notch or two. Instead, Ben worried he was the one in need of self-improvement.
He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She caught him looking and smiled. A new happiness seemed to radiate from her. She seemed younger, as if she’d shed years of burdens and had discovered the joy of life.
Noticing all this, Ben swallowed uncomfortably. Most of the joy
he’d previously known seemed to have fled in the past few months. He’d been able to ignore the loss pretty well—until yesterday. Having Tara around had opened up his wounds again. She reminded him of what he would never have.
There’s no reason to take it out on her. Silently, he vowed to be nicer, to display whatever good she’d seen in him ten months ago.
“You chose a great time of year to visit,” he said. “October is the absolute best month here.”
“Why?” Tara asked. “Because of the weather or the harvest?”
“Neither,” Ben said. “The weather is nice, but October is nice in a lot of the country. And I don’t do much with crops. Just the garden mostly. October is the best because of Halloween.”
“Huh?” Tara followed him as they left the lawn and headed up a dirt road to the corn.
“My favorite holiday,” Ben explained. “And it’s only gotten better since I’ve been an adult and had my own place.”
“Aren’t you a little old for trick-or-treating?” Tara asked.
“Never.” Ben’s mouth quirked mischievously. They reached the corn, and he stepped aside, his hand held out, gesturing for her to go ahead. She stepped through the wide gap between stalks. Ahead of them four separate paths led off in different directions.
“It’s a maze.” A look of wonderment lit her face as she walked deeper into the rows. “I’ve heard about these, but I’ve never actually been to one.”
“I have to use that tractor I bought for something,” Ben said. “This is my fourth year. It’s getting to be pretty popular. We’ve already had a lot of traffic and it’s only the first week of October.”
The sound of an approaching ATV drowned out his voice. He and Tara watched as Deb drove up to the entrance. She killed the engine and climbed off, a clipboard in her hand.
“So today we have a preschool coming at ten o’clock then two Girl Scout troops at three. A birthday party at four, and we open to the public at five. Does that sound about right?”
“I think I said yes to a youth group this afternoon too.” Ben tried to remember when, exactly, the All Saints Community Youth had said they were coming.
“Be-en,” Deb whined. “You can’t do that. You’ve got to write this stuff down. You know we can’t be three places at once. And are any of those groups paying?”
“The birthday party is,” Ben said. “And it’s a big group. Fifteen, twenty kids.”
“Well that’s something,” Deb said. “Though, if you keep letting groups in for free, we’re never going to make enough.”
“You worry too much,” Ben said. He’d pledged five thousand to the Ohio Family Care Association this year, to help with recruiting and training foster families. Last year he’d made just under $3,500 during the month of October, with the cornfield and other Halloween activities he’d set up. With the new things they’d added this year, plus word of mouth, he felt certain they could donate that much more. “Just watch. We’ll do fine.”
“I hope you’re right.” Deb held up the key to the ATV. “You want to do a drive-through or should I?”
“That depends.” Ben looked at Tara. “Want to ride around in the maze on an ATV? We go through every morning, just to make sure there are no surprises inside.”
“Or at least not ones we didn’t put there,” Deb said, a sly grin on her face.
“What sort of surprises do you have in there?” Tara asked.
“The usual.” Ben grinned. “Snakes. A skeleton or two, Big Foot, guy with a chainsaw . . .”
“And preschoolers around here enjoy that sort of thing?” Tara was giving him her you-are-so-sick-and-twisted look again. The same one he’d gotten at breakfast when he allowed Persephone to sit beside him at the table.
“The younger kids take the left fork,” Deb explained. “It’s completely tame. There are silly ghosts and decorated pumpkins. And, of course, Farmer Ben is there to guide them.”
“It’s a chance to be a kid again,” Ben said defensively. He wondered what Tara would think if she saw him being goofy with the little kids. That act had never won him any dates before, though most preschool moms seemed to appreciate his corniness. Somehow he didn’t think Tara would. Maybe if he were lucky, she’d be off painting or something during that time.
“What do you think? Will the maze be too much for your claustrophobia?”
Tara glanced uneasily at the paths that disappeared into the twelve-foot-high corn. “I guess it might be okay. If we keep moving . . .”
Deb started walking toward the house. “Call me if you need me,” she said. “Otherwise I’ll see you a little before ten.”
“You’ll see to the pigs?” Ben asked.
“I’ll try. Seph is in a temper again.”
“Thanks,” Ben called.
“Thanks?” Tara asked. “You just sent your sister to milk the pigs—or whatever you do with them—and all she gets is a ‘thanks’?”
Ben stroked his chin as he studied her. “I’m wrong again. Thought for sure you were one of those equal rights types.”
“When it comes to farm work, I think a little chivalry is in order. After all, your sister baked the biscuits last night. She’s already doing the feminine thing. Why should she have to do both?”
“I baked those biscuits,” Ben said. He’d noticed how Tara had seemed to be enjoying them—before he’d driven her away from the table, that is.
“It’s actually important for Deb to work with the pigs. Persephone thinks we’re married or something,” Ben grumbled. He walked over to the ATV and Tara followed.
“You almost treat that pig like you are. So of course she expects it.” She waited for Ben to get on then climbed on behind him. “You let her sit beside you at the table. You rub her belly. You feed her treats and pamper her. You even let her sleep in your bed!”
He turned around to see her face. “How do you know that?”
A slight blush crept up Tara’s cheeks. “I went the wrong direction in the hall this morning. It was early. I was still half asleep. Your door was partway open, and for a minute I thought it was the bathroom.”
“Good thing I was decent,” Ben said.
“I wouldn’t have known if you weren’t,” Tara said. “Aside from your hair and forehead, all I could see was this huge pig covering the bed.”
“She’s had a rough life,” Ben said. “So what if I do baby her a bit.”
“A bit?” Tara choked.
Ben frowned. “Nothing wrong with it. Pigs are God’s creatures too.”
“I know,” Tara said. “I’m just saying—”
He started the engine. “You’re saying if I treat her differently, she’ll act that way?”
“Yes.” Tara had to shout to be heard above the motor. “The way you treat people—or pigs, apparently—is important. Kindness will be returned with kindness and the like.”
“Really?” Ben thought back to the all-about-me Tara he’d known last December. He’d witnessed firsthand her being more than a little unkind to a couple of unfortunate airline employees. A lot must have happened to change her so much.
If, indeed, she really was changed. He still wasn’t completely convinced.
“Hang on.” He clutched the gas, and they zoomed forward, down the third path, the one with the most snakes—some that dropped on you.
“Let me know if you’re getting uncomfortable, and we’ll turn back.”
“Okay.” Her arms tightened around his waist and she scooted forward, pressing up against his back. Before a minute had passed, Ben was acutely aware of every part of her that was touching him. It wasn’t that it was unpleasant—the opposite was true. But it bothered him all the same.
He’d invited Tara to stay because Deb was right. He had been a jerk last night, and he wanted to make up for that. But he didn’t want to think about Tara as more than a visitor. He didn’t want to feel anything for or about her—a near impossibility at the moment.
He would do as she advised and be nice and hope it came ba
ck to him. Though sparring with her is kind of fun. But it ended there. He had no desire to start something, to get involved when it would surely end badly.
He’d treat her nice. He’d go to Seattle. He’d baptize her. Then they would part ways.
For good.
Forty-Three
The second night of her stay, Tara found herself waiting up for Deb, wishing she’d hurry and finish lingering longer on the porch with Josh. When his truck finally pulled away, Tara stepped back from the window, letting the lace curtain fall in place. She jumped into bed but sat up with a book, so it would be apparent she was still awake. Yesterday she hadn’t wanted to talk; tonight she could hardly wait.
A few minutes later Deb came in, changed into her pajamas, and sat on the bed. “Did you have a good day?” she asked.
“Yes,” Tara said. “Ben showed me most of his property, and seeing him in action with the preschoolers was . . .” Highly amusing. “Fun.”
“Just stay away when he’s playing Freddy Kruger,” Deb advised. “If you ask me, Ben gets a little too into that role, sticking that creepy hand out of the corn and grabbing kids.”
Tara grimaced. “I’ll be sure to stay far away when the teen groups are around.” She closed her book and set it on the floor beside the bed while pondering how best to lead into what she wanted to talk about. She was glad that Deb showed no sign of planning to go to bed right away but had started folding a basket of laundry.
“We had a nice picnic today too,” Tara said. “Up on the back ridge—or whatever you call it. I guess it’s not actually very high.”
“Slope,” Deb suggested. “It is nice up there. And high enough you can see pretty far.”
“It was a good way to get acquainted with the place,” Tara said. “Ben pointed out just about everything up there. I even got the scoop on all your neighbors.”
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