“The cavity has reached down through the tooth and touched the nerve,” Jeremy said. “Inflammation happens. That’s why you’ve been experiencing soreness.”
“Pain,” Ariel said. “Pain.”
“Uh, yes,” Jeremy said. “So to repair the cavity, we need to go deeper than we normally do and work at the level of the nerve.”
Ariel turned to the wall where a picture of teddy bears on a bench hung. “Okay.”
Jeremy switched to Connie. “I have a cancellation this afternoon. I could do it right away, if that works. We’ll just put it into your current account plan.”
“No!” Ariel lifted her head. “I just said ‘okay’ to what you said. I didn’t agree to it.” She squirmed to get out of the chair, not easy given she was sloped backward.
Connie clamped her hand over Ariel’s arm. “Jeremy, can you give us a minute?”
“Sure. I’ll have someone come by in a bit,” he said, already exiting.
Connie pushed aside the overhead light and scooted her chair close to Ariel’s head. “All right. What’s up?”
Ariel stared at the ceiling. “Nothing’s up. I’ve had enough of being poked for one day, is all.”
“Not buying it,” Connie said. “You’ve been on extra-strength ibuprofen for...what? A week, a month—24/7? You’ve got the chance to end the pain right now. What’s the problem?”
Ariel’s arm was as stiff as wood. She closed her eyes, her long lashes a thick fringe. Miranda had had the same unbelievable lashes. “They’ll give me a needle, right? For the freezing?”
Okay, the needle. Understandable. “No one likes them, Ariel. But it’ll last for a second and then—”
She stopped. Of course. A needle. Miranda had shot up, probably in front of Ariel. Ariel had seen someone she loved, the only person she’d loved, die from using a needle.
“I get it,” Connie said. “I get it. Listen, they have what they call ‘sedation dentistry.’ Do you want me to check into that?”
Ariel shook her head. “That costs too much.”
“That’s fine,” Connie said. It would be if Ben was her dad. Otherwise she might as well have Dizzy sign her paycheck directly over to Jeremy. “Here. Let me ask at the front desk, okay?”
No dice. Ariel would require medication ahead of time, which meant losing out on the present opening, and Connie really didn’t want Ariel going through five more days of pain. Somehow she needed to get Ariel through her fear.
When Connie broke the bad news to Ariel, tears pooled in her hazel eyes. Tears from the same girl who’d stuck it to an entire gang. The girl who described her mom’s death without a single lip tremble.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Connie said. Keri, the dental assistant, peeked around the divider at them and looked as though she was about to speak when she spied Ariel. Connie mouthed, Ten, and she nodded and disappeared as if patient breakdowns were routine here at the Dillard Dental Clinic.
Her tears spilled out, and Ariel gazed at Connie with the pleading look of a small child. Make it stop. Make it all better.
Connie planted the box of tissues from the counter behind Ariel on her lap. She stripped out a handful and wiped Ariel’s cheeks, first the right, then the left and back to the right. “You let it out.”
“I don’t want to cry,” Ariel said in a tear-clogged whisper. “I want to get my tooth fixed but...but...”
“Okay. You don’t need to say it, sweet pea,” Connie said, stripping out tissues and wiping, wiping. “I get it.”
How to do the filling without strapping Ariel down? “What we’re going to do,” Connie said with absolute confidence, “is throw you a party.”
“What?” Ariel said. “You can’t make me have a party I don’t want.”
“Hear me out. When was the last time I threw you a birthday party? You were, like, eleven, right?”
“Yeah.”
“See? I’m way overdue.”
“I don’t want a party. I want—”
“Your tooth fixed.” Connie caught sight of Keri and waved her down. “We want to get a tooth fixed here.”
The assistant took her cue, and Connie moved to let her take the chair. Connie quickly sat on Jeremy’s stool. Ariel’s grip on the armchair tightened but she said nothing. “All righty, then,” Keri said, and smiled at Ariel as if she was the prettiest thing on earth and not snot-nosed and red-eyed and strung out. Connie could’ve kissed her. “Let’s take care of you.”
Panic began to widen Ariel’s eyes. “I don’t want—”
“A party,” Connie said, practically taking apart each sound of each word as she spoke. “You want to get your tooth fixed.”
Ariel’s eyes rolled to Connie. “Don’t leave me.”
Except Jeremy would need his stool back. To insert the needle.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Connie said. “I’ll stay here. We’ll talk about the party. I like to start with the venue. The house?” Someone pushed another stool from the reception area into the cubicle. Was someone monitoring from the other side of the divider? Connie snagged it and settled herself directly behind Ariel.
Jeremy came in, the needle discreetly at his side. These guys were good. Maybe they ran drills for this sort of thing. Watched reenactments. Were they being taped? A debriefing to follow after-hours?
Jeremy slid into his seat and asked Ariel what she had planned for the rest of the day.
Wrong move. Ariel lifted her head and shoulders clear off the chair and glared at him. “Don’t screw with me. I know what you have.”
Connie eased Ariel back onto the chair and cupped her hands around Ariel’s face. She half expected the rebel to bat away her hands but instead she nestled her cheek, the side with the bad tooth, against Connie’s hand.
“Auntie Connie.”
“Yes?”
“I want—I want...you to help me get my tooth fixed.”
Connie didn’t move her hands. “I can do that.”
The needle went in as Connie babbled about cakes, balloons, books, prizes, guests, music, presents, housecleaning.
When the freezing took, Connie withdrew to Ariel’s feet, while Jeremy and his beautiful assistant did their magic show.
Once on the street, they walked home like zombies. Ariel said, “I know you were just talking about a birthday party to distract me. You don’t have to do it.”
Ariel didn’t seem fazed by the procedure, but Connie was sure the whole side of her face must feel as big as a beach ball. “If you want a party,” Connie said, “I’ll help you get through it.”
Ariel scraped a tooth on her numbed lip. “I got through a root canal. I guess I could survive one of your birthday parties.”
* * *
BEN ATE PIZZA alone in his workshop. Connie was probably working her first shift at Smooth Sailing since the wedding. Him eating there wouldn’t work on so many levels, and he didn’t have the energy to sit alone anywhere else. So his workshop it was, downing pizza straight out of the box. Pizza he had to pick the olives off because he’d forgotten not to order them.
A shadow passed by the workshop window, activating the motion detector light. McCready? Trevor? Ben crossed his shop and threw open the door.
A man stumbled, and his foot crunched the gravel at the entrance to the workshop. “Ben. That you?”
Derek. A very drunk Derek.
“It is. Come in. Have a seat.”
“Sure,” Derek said, drawling out the single word. “I’ve got a bit of time.” He negotiated the doorway and Ben quickly unfolded a lawn chair. Derek fell into it. The frame caved and splayed but held.
“So,” Derek slurred, “what have you been up to?” He looked around, probably for something with alcohol. Had the man sobered up at all since the wedding?
“Not much,” Ben said. Not much he would admit to, anyway. “I kept an eye on Seth’
s farm while he was off on his honeymoon.”
Derek scrunched his face. “Oh, yeah. He’s married.” He gave a short, harsh laugh. “The last to swing from the old marriage noose.”
“I’m not married,” Ben reminded him.
Derek’s laugh grew louder. “Face it. You and Connie have been married since you were kids. You just don’t have the matching rings, is all.”
Ben held out the pizza box to Derek. “Pizza?”
“Sure.” Derek began to rise but Ben got to him first. He lifted a piece heavy on the olives and offered it to the other man. “Here. Sorry I don’t have a plate. Or napkins.” The pepperoni topping was sliding off before Derek snagged it in his mouth.
Solid food would do him good. Why had he shown up here? They’d never hung out together separate from Luke and Seth. Then again, Derek wouldn’t be spending time at Smooth Sailing with the way things stood between him and Luke. Maybe he and Derek did have something in common.
“Hey, what’s that?” Derek meant the headboard. The bedsheet had slipped off it at some point into a heap on the floor.
“That? A...a couple ordered it.”
“Oh, yeah?” Derek got himself upright and walked toward it with his drippy pizza. “You did all the woodwork?”
“Yeah.”
Derek squinted. “Leaves. Wheels. Baseball bat. Oookay. Wheels. What are these wavy lines?”
“Hair. Waves. Wind.”
“For newlyweds?”
Why not? “Yeah.”
“Aha.” Derek pointed a wavering finger somewhere in the direction of Ben. “It’s a wedding gift for Seth and Amanda.”
Let him think that. “Alexi.”
Derek had gone back to studying the board. “Hey, you know what’s missing? Rings.”
If Ben didn’t see another ring for the rest of his life, it would be too soon.
“Rings are like...like the ultimate symbol of marriage. You don’t have a ring—” Derek waved his bare left hand deep into Ben’s face space “—then you don’t have a marriage.”
Finally, a perfect lead-in to guide Derek away from the headboard. Ben bent and picked up a corner of the sheet. “I take it you and Lindsay haven’t worked things out.”
Derek remained rooted too close to the headboard for Ben to pull the sheet across without making it into a big production.
“Things couldn’t be better,” Derek answered, cramming the last of the pizza into his mouth. “We’re finally having open, honest communications. Open and honest until I tell her what I’m thinking and then she yells at me. Not saying I don’t deserve to be yelled at. But her yelling and me—well, me not feeling much more than sorry for her doesn’t make for a marriage.”
Connie’s sad, pitying eyes from two nights ago rose to Ben’s mind. No one wanted to be pitied. “Aren’t you even going to try to make it right with Lindsay?”
Derek plunked himself on the sawhorse directly in front of the headboard. Maybe now that Derek’s attention was diverted, hiding the headboard might not matter anymore. Ben dropped the sheet.
“Haven’t you heard a word I said?” Derek launched into his troubles. “Before the yelling was the talking. And this is where it gets complicated. You see, I love Shari and I thought she loved me, but in the end she chose Luke.”
The corner of Derek’s mouth pulled down. “No surprise there. But it kinda sucks for me because I can’t be with Shari, and no one can do anything about that. And nothing I can do about the fact that Lindsay loves me and I don’t love her back.” Derek pointed his hand at Ben. “And that’s when the yelling starts.”
Ben understood Lindsay’s need to yell. He’d kicked and yelled at a lot of things after his breakup with Connie, although he’d been by himself and far away when he’d done it. Ben hoped Lindsay had tucked her kids away before she’d started in. Except Connie had faked her affair, so why then—
“Explain to me why Shari had an affair with you if she loved Luke.”
Derek leaned in conspiratorially, so far that he had to move his foot from the sawhorse to the floor to brace himself. “That’s the thing. The one thing I’m better at than Luke is loving his wife.”
A competition? Derek had ruined his marriage and a friendship, not for love but to prove who could love better?
“But Shari,” Derek continued, “being Shari, has decided that it’s better to love than be loved, or loved not quite as much. Which took me a whole lot of beers to figure out.”
“I see that.”
“Which is why—” Derek pointed at the engraving “—you need to put rings on that thing.”
Back to this. “The couple doesn’t want them.”
“Seth and Amanda will want them.”
“Alexi. They don’t.”
“Here.” Derek came off the sawhorse and set his finger on a blank spot in the wood exactly where Ben had once considered adding rings. “Put them here.”
“Look. Derek. I’m telling you—”
“You don’t believe me. Let me show you.” He picked up a chisel Ben had left on the sawhorse.
No. “I’ll take that, Derek.” Ben reached for the tool but Derek lifted it away.
“I got it, I got it. Let me just shape it in for you. Show you what I mean.”
Derek shouldered up to the headboard, blocking Ben from the chisel and the engraving.
“Stop it, Derek.” Ben tossed the sheet at the headboard, hoping to intercept Derek.
Instead, Derek knocked the sheet away with his elbow, the sharp move causing the chisel to drive straight into the wood, the blade scoring the wheels, leaves and a mermaid tail.
Derek swayed in front of Ben. “Oh, man, I’m sorry.”
Ben didn’t realize he was planning to punch Derek until the impact of his fist on Derek’s jaw shunted up his arm. Derek reeled back against the headboard. The sheet of wood skidded and crashed to the cement floor, Derek landing on top of it.
Derek tried to stand, stepped on the soft pine, splintering the wood.
This time when Ben drove his fist into Derek’s face, he knew exactly what he was about.
Hard hands gripped his shirt at the shoulders and pulled him off Derek.
“Ben!” It was Seth. “Easy. Easy.”
Ben breathed hard, forced himself to say, “Get him out of here.”
Derek, nose bleeding, was again trying to scramble to his feet. Seth released Ben and steadied Derek, moving him toward the door and handing him a box of tissues. All the while, Derek mumbled, “Sorry, man, sorry for the headboard. Just wanted to get the rings on. You know what a symbol they are. Oh, man, I screwed up.”
Seth almost had him out the door when he stopped and said to Seth, “Look, buddy, it’s been bugging me. I’m sorry for getting into that fight.”
“No worries—”
“No, that wasn’t right. Not at your wedding. That’s just bad luck. I’ve, like, cursed your marriage.”
Ben flew at Derek again, but Seth more or less heaved Derek out the door first, disappearing with him. Hopefully to carry on where Ben had left off, though he doubted that. Seth was not drunk or angry or hurt. He was happily married to the woman he loved and who loved him back with all her heart.
There was no fixing the headboard. A fitting end to his campaign to win Connie. He should be thanking Derek for doing what he would’ve had to do, anyway.
The door opened and Seth walked in again. “I got him sitting on your back steps, dealing with his nosebleed. I’ll check on him in a bit.”
Seth picked up the headboard and leaned it against the wall. He drew the white bedsheet slowly, respectfully, over the board, like over a murder victim. He settled himself on the sawhorse where Derek had sat, except facing Ben at the workbench, and said nothing.
Ben knew Seth would sit there all night, if need be. Like the way Ariel had stayed with
him in the barn. He might not have the woman he wanted but he did have two people who cared enough not to leave him alone to deal with his problems.
“Things were pretty intense,” Ben said, and leaned against his workbench, “while you were away.”
“Sounds as if it started before then.”
“Yeah, Connie figured out back in February that Derek was sleeping with Luke’s wife.” Ben picked his next words carefully. “Him and Luke got into a bit of a fight in the parking lot during the wedding. But listen, Derek’s drunk. Your marriage isn’t cursed.”
Seth shifted his butt on the hard wood. “I know that. He’s just feeling guilty. I’m good.” He paused. “It does explain a few things.”
He paused again, clearly waiting for Ben to fill in the rest of the details, but Ben didn’t want to bring up the topic of Connie.
“All right,” Seth said. “I’ll say it. Reason I came by tonight was because Connie says you two talked about getting married.”
“It was my idea,” Ben clarified. “She convinced me otherwise, so we’re good, back to the way things were.”
“All right.”
That quick acceptance wasn’t normal for Seth. Usually any conversation about Connie included an apology, a rant, a warning. “I know you’re all right with it,” Ben said, “but for the record, it wasn’t because of anything she did. It was me.”
Ben really didn’t want to tell Seth about Miranda, but between Connie and Ariel, it might come out. Seth deserved to hear it straight from the one he’d chosen as his best man.
He spilled his guts to Seth. About Miranda. About Connie resisting his proposal. Even of her fake affair. Of putting his house up for sale and his plan to move into Connie’s. With every pent-up worry and secret released, Ben experienced the wash of contentment that can only come with a heart-to-heart with a longtime friend. Other than a few questions, Seth stayed quiet. When Ben declared himself done, Seth tipped his head toward the headboard. “I take it that was for you and her.”
Was. “Yeah. A gift to go with the ring. She doesn’t know about it. Just as well.”
Seth shifted a bit more on the sawhorse. He cleared his throat once, twice. Preparing to remind Ben about Connie, to deliver his best buddy “I-told-you-so” about his wild sister.
Building a Family Page 19