by Lori Ryan
He must have passed, because she gave a small nod and spoke. “Most people in town know my father is an alcoholic. I mean, was…is…hell, I don’t know.”
Ben nodded not wanting to interrupt.
She tossed the pillow and drew up her knees, tugging them tight to her chest. “He wasn’t a very nice drunk.”
Ben had to purposefully relax, making sure she didn’t see him clench his fists in response to her statement. He wanted to know everything her dad had done to her. Then, he wanted to go beat the shit out of him for each and every offense.
At the same time, he didn’t want to make Maggie relive it. He wanted to scoop her up and hold her tight, let her close her eyes and pretend none of it had happened. That wasn’t what she needed right now, though.
“Almost a year ago he collapsed,” Maggie continued. “He called me, disoriented and freaked out. I wasn’t surprised, that was his normal state. But this time,” she hesitated, “this time I could tell something was wrong.” She picked at her nails as she thought on her next words. “I took him to the emergency room. They ran a bunch of tests and came back with his diagnosis.”
Ben waited.
“Cardiovascular disease, specifically cardiomyopathy, brought on by long-term alcohol abuse.” She sat quietly, staring down at the couch as she pulled at a loose string. “Among other things,” she added.
Cardiomyopathy. What the hell was that? God, he wished his brother, Aaron, could give him a play-by-play in his head. He was a cardiologist. He’d know what to do. What to say.
“Because of the neurotoxic effects of the alcohol, my dad has social phobias and early onset dementia as well.” Maggie listed off her father’s ailments as if it were a grocery list.
Fuck.
“So, now you take care of him?” Ben asked.
She shrugged and he remembered Hank from the bar saying Maggie had always taken care of her dad.
Ben reached over and touched her arm.
Maggie stared down where they were joined.
“He’s a few towns over, in Blue Falls, right?” Ben asked.
Maggie nodded. “He’s in a skilled nursing facility right now, until they can get his blood pressure stabilized and his meds on track. They think he may have missed a few doses or something. That’s why the social worker is pushing for assisted living.”
“Where was he living before he went to the nursing facility?” Ben asked.
“It’s a sober living facility called Stoneway Sober Living. They don’t have the staff to monitor him as closely as he needs to be watched.” Maggie let out a long sigh. “I’ve got to figure out how to pay for it all, too.”
“You know I’ll help you, Maggie. You don’t need to handle this all by yourself.”
Maggie shook her head then tapped her temple. “Right now, no one can help, it’s all in here. I just have to sort it out.”
“What do you mean, in here?” Ben reached over and ran his fingers over her temple.
“My father is sober now. He’s working through his ‘steps,’” she said sarcastically, using air quotes.
“You mean, the amends?”
“Yeah.” Maggie picked on the pillow now. “How did you know?”
“My grandfather, my mother’s dad, was an alcoholic. She would talk about it once in a while. And one of my good friends in college, his sister got hooked on drugs but tried to get clean her senior year.”
Maggie stared at him. “Did she make it?”
Ben didn’t have the heart to tell her his friend’s sister had overdosed. He simply shook his head.
“Anyway,” Maggie sighed, “my dad wrote me several letters over this past year since he’s been sober. He keeps asking me to read them.”
“You haven’t?”
Maggie shook her head. “No. I’m just, so…”
“Angry?”
“It’s more than that. I can’t even give it words, you know?”
Ben didn’t, but he squeezed her hand.
“You live a lifetime with nothing but cruel words and mean actions from someone...”
He didn’t even think she was aware her hand smacked the pillow.
“It piles up, you know?” She mashed the pillow, gripping it and twisting as she spoke. “I’m supposed to forgive that?” She reared her hand back, pillow in her grasp, then threw it. The pillow went sailing across the room, bouncing off the opposite wall and falling to the floor. “And on top of it,” she choked on a sob. “I’m supposed to give a shit about him? Well, I don’t. I mean, I do, but I don’t want to.”
Ben watched, his stomach twisted with sympathy as she swallowed back the tears. She was too damned tough, too damned proud to cry in front of him.
Ben slid across the small space on the couch and took Maggie in his arms. He wondered if she’d let herself cry with him if no one was here. Had Maggie ever let herself mourn the loss of the childhood her dad had taken? He gently stroked her back and kissed her head, trying to give her the comfort she’d probably never received before.
“But you do care about him, huh?” Ben loosened his hold as she pushed away, sitting back on her heels and nodding silently. He brushed back a piece of hair stuck to her cheek. “You can hate him and still care about him, Maggie. You can even hate him but still love him, too. You don’t have to feel just one thing.”
The ragged breaths and trembling shoulders let him know she was crying as she lay with her head on his shoulder. Ben held her for a long time as she released the tears she’d probably held for years. He didn’t know how long her crying lasted and he didn’t care. He would have held her forever in that moment, if it took away some of her pain.
“You know, I hated my dad for a while,” Ben said, “and he didn’t do any of the shit your old man has. I think maybe we’re meant to hate our parents just a little. It’s part of life.” He didn’t tell her he’d give anything to go back and tell his dad he loved him before he died.
Maggie sagged back on the arm of the couch, wiping at her eyes. “Why would you hate your dad? He was a wonderful man.”
“I know that, now.”
“You didn’t know that then?” she asked, no judgment in her tone.
“My dad wasn’t around a whole lot growing up. There was always one more project to finish up, one more building to inspect, one more meeting to attend. It always seemed like when I needed him the most, he was never there.” Ben knew his dad had been a saint compared to Maggie’s.
“Like what?”
“Like,” Ben filtered through his memories, “like, any science fair or school related function. I mean, I know he was there in ‘spirit,’ as my mom called it. But it wasn’t the same. I felt like a failure in his eyes most days.”
Maggie cocked her head. “Why would you say that? Your father bragged about you all the time.”
“I know that now, but I didn’t then.”
“How do you know it now?” she asked.
Ben sagged into the couch, releasing his clenched jaw, and a deep breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Back then, when my dad didn’t show at my school events, I thought maybe he regretted having me. I mean, I wasn’t a big jock, I didn’t do sports. School was my thing, science, computers. He was an architect so I thought he would understand.”
“But?” Maggie asked.
“But…when I dropped out of college he kind of went ballistic. That’s when I left.”
“And you never came back.”
It wasn’t a question and Ben noted a hint of sadness on her beautiful face. He stared at her eyes, her swollen lids rimmed in red. “I’ll always regret it,” he said quietly.
“Why?” Maggie asked.
Ben paused, wondering just how real he wanted to be with Maggie. Then he remembered how honest she’d been and he continued.
“When I started up my company, my friend Patrick and I were looking for backers. As you can imagine, not too many people want to give thousands of dollars to two punk kids with a pipe dream.”
Magg
ie smiled. “No, I imagine not.”
“From out of nowhere, Patrick found a company to invest. It saved us and allowed us to create Sumner Integrated Software Solutions. If it wasn’t for those first few investors, I probably wouldn’t have made it.”
“That’s wonderful, Ben, you worked hard.”
“That’s not it.” He shook his head. “My mom just told me that one of the original investors was actually my father.”
Maggie sat up. “Really?”
Ben nodded. “Really. I couldn’t believe it. All these years I thought I’d disappointed my dad. I think on some level, I even thought he worked so much to avoid being home with us. But in reality, he’d been working long hours to save money for me and my brothers. My mom said he’d put aside money for each of us. The money he gave our company was the money he’d been missing all those events to earn.”
Maggie sagged back down, the sadness in her eyes almost palpable.
Instantly, Ben realized his mistake. “Maggie, I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t.” Maggie held her hand. “Don’t ever apologize for having a great father, Ben. It’s not your fault.” Her lips curled in a bitter smile. “I would be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous of you and your brothers. But I was able to be with your father the last five years of his life. He was the father I never had. I’m blessed.”
“That’s not what I’m trying to tell you, Maggie,” Ben said. “Yes, I know he was a great father, I wished I would have known sooner so I could say thank you, so I could have had a relationship with him, some relationship with him. The guilt is tearing at me.”
Maggie’s eyes went wide with surprise.
Ben was shocked at his admission as well. “Look, Maggie, what I’m saying is, don’t live with regrets. I can’t imagine what you went through as a child, with your father, the horrible things you had to endure. And I’m sure he doesn’t deserve your forgiveness.”
Tears welled up in her eyes but Ben pushed on.
“I think in some ways, we’re both dealing with the ghosts of our fathers. My dad is physically gone. For you, your dad isn’t dead, but maybe the old father he used to be is. That’s your ghost.” Maggie stared, her face blank. Was he going too far? “All I’m saying is that, if you ever want to truly be happy, I think you need to forgive him or you’ll regret it.”
Her face fell and she sneered.
“Wait, wait, don’t get pissed. Let me explain.” Ben scooted forward, hoping his proximity would ease her. “You can be pissed at him, be mad, cuss, scream, anything you want. You have every right to. But in the end, you deserve to be happy, to be at peace. I never truly had that. Somewhere deep inside,” Ben tapped his heart, “I still longed for my dad’s approval. I think you do, too.”
Maggie’s head fell and he noticed one lone tear trickle down her cheek.
Ben slowly lifted her face. Her chin quivered as more tears fell. “Don’t wait, Maggie. Don’t let the opportunity pass, like I did. Your father’s sober now. It might not last, but he’s reaching out. It doesn’t mean you have to forget everything he’s done. But for your own sake, for your own peace, maybe it’s time you read his letters. For you.” He searched her face, pleading with her to understand. “Maybe it’s time you got some closure. Scream at him, yell at him, I’m sure he’s prepared for it if he’s truly worked through his steps.”
She stared down at his hand and covered it with her own. “I hate that I hate him, Ben. It’s not who I am. But he’s sick, really sick,” she choked out on a sob.
“That’s not your problem, Maggie.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“This is about you, not your dad.” He placed a hand over her heart. “This is about peace for yourself. Do what you need to do to get it.”
Maggie stared at him with wide-eyed bewilderment as she slowly covered his hand with hers.
“Do you still have the letters? The ones your father wrote?”
She nodded.
“Where?”
She sat still for a beat before releasing his hand and pointing toward the television.
“The TV?” Ben’s forehead wrinkled in confusion.
“No,” she whispered, “in the trunk.”
Ben nodded in understanding. She not only had locked them inside a trunk, she’d put a monstrous television on top, basically ensuring she’d never get to them easily.
Ben stood and walked toward the trunk, lifting the TV with ease, and set it down on the floor. Without saying a word, he sat on the coffee table, staring at the trunk.
“Was it your mother’s?” he asked.
He was met with silence, but that didn’t surprise him.
Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed Maggie sitting on the edge of the couch, her thumb caught between her teeth as she chewed on her nail.
He waited patiently, not wanting to disturb her internal struggle.
Turning back, he noticed the details of the trunk. The wood appeared to be cedar and dark metal framed the edges. He noted a front clasp with a lock. She’d literally locked herself away from her father. From the corner of his eye, he saw Maggie walking toward him.
She slowly lowered herself in front of a picture frame sitting on a side table. He recognized Lily and Kayleigh in the photo along with Maggie. They were laughing, mouths open, hair blowing wildly in the breeze. Maggie looked carefree and younger than her thirty years.
She lifted the frame and tugged at the back, lifting the corner. With a tilt, a small brass key fell in her hand. She haphazardly replaced the frame and stood, staring at the key in her palm. She seemed paralyzed and Ben wanted to take it from her and do the dirty work himself. But he couldn’t. This was Maggie’s journey. He could only be here when she crumbled.
With a twist of her wrist, the lock gave way and Maggie lifted the heavy lid to peer inside. Her fingers white knuckled the top, holding it high as if it might fall.
Ben sunk to his knees and slid beside her, peering over the edge. Inside were small framed photos, clothing, and a white cardboard box. Ben reached up and took the lid off the trunk.
“I’ve got it, Maggie.”
Stepping back in time to an abusive childhood had to be difficult, and Ben wondered if he were doing the right thing. Fuck, he should probably leave this to people who knew what the hell they were doing. But he cared for Maggie, a lot more than he probably should, and he wanted to help her.
Maggie reached in the trunk and wrapped both hands around the box as if she were grasping something that might blow up at any second. Holding it in front of her, she sat back on her heels.
Ben understood her silent message. This was all she could take right now. The remainder of the contents could wait for another day. He raised a brow for confirmation.
Maggie nodded once.
Ben slowly lowered the lid, took the key and locked the trunk and set the key next to the frame. He reached for the TV.
“No.” Maggie said, waving a hand. “Leave it.”
Ben smiled, pushing the television against the wall. It was a step.
She slowly sat on the couch, sliding one leg underneath her as her hands grazed over the white box in her lap.
Ben stood beside her, watching as a myriad of emotions washed over her face. “I think I’m going to head off and—”
“No.” Maggie didn’t hold back. Her voice held the edge of someone who couldn’t face what she was about to do alone. She was scared.
Ben stared at her forlorn face.
She glanced up, eyes pleading. “Please. Don’t go,” she whispered softly. “Stay with me.”
Ben sat and pulled her down next to him, settling her in tight. He’d stay a lifetime if she asked.
Where the hell had that come from?
After what seemed like a lifetime, Maggie set the unopened box on the coffee table, contents still sealed inside, releasing a long sigh. “Tomorrow,” she said softly, her breath washing across Ben’s neck as she wrapped her arms around his chest.
Hi
s hand slipped off the couch and wrapped around her waist, cradling her body, drawing her into him. “Tomorrow, sweetheart.” he repeated, kissing her head.
Within minutes, Maggie was out.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Maggie startled as something cool brushed the back of her legs. She opened her eyes and saw Ben’s face, his eyes studying her.
“It’s okay, Maggie Mae, I’m just putting you into bed.”
Maggie slid her arms from around his neck and braced herself as he slid her onto the cool sheets. Why was it so cold in her house? She glanced down at her bare legs. Shorts. She’d changed into shorts after her bath.
Ben tucked the covers up over her shoulders as her head hit the pillow.
Again. She could get used to this.
“You fell asleep on the couch so I brought you to bed.”
Images of the open trunk with photos and the white box swam through her mind. Her father’s letters. She’d broken down in front of Ben, allowed herself to be vulnerable—something she never did, with anyone. Gazing up into his face she saw no judgment, only compassion.
“I’m going to head out now.” Ben bent and kissed her forehead.
Maggie reached out a hand and touched his. “Stay.” Hell, why had she said that? She never begged. Not that her single word was begging, but it was closer than she ever came.
Ben studied her face, his own marred with indecision.
“It’s okay, never mind,” Maggie said, “I shouldn’t have asked.” Why would he want to stay with a woman who was half-way crazy and all the way broken?
“You’re tired, you should really rest.”
“You’re right. I should.”
She waited for Ben to leave.
Instead, he lifted his shirt over his head. “I’m tired too though,” he said. “I probably shouldn’t drive.” His lips tilted into a smirk as though he knew his own excuse had been weak.
She watched with fascination and anticipation as he kicked off his shoes and worked the button of his jeans. She swallowed back a moan when the sound of the zipper echoed in room.
Ben smiled, shucking his jeans to the floor before stepping out.
Maggie’s gaze travelled up his long, lean body. He was wearing boxer briefs again. Only these were dark grey. And there was a sizable bulge, very noticeable through the fabric.