Patchwork to Healing, page 25
A home wasn’t about a place; it was about the people in that place.
Since her parents’ death, no matter where she’d gone, she’s always carried a deep sadness, a longing for home that never ceased. Until now. She feared that this sense of home would once again disappear. Her contentment was now slipping away, the same way the sun was. She questioned if Ben would want to return to Maine once he’d gone back to paradise. I can’t believe he’s leaving before the gala. She shook her head in disbelief. That’s it. It’s impossible for me to say no to that man. She grinned. No, Rebecca Mills, he told you, this is where he wants to be.
A gust of wind and the drop in temperature left Rebecca shivering, but also exhilarated and refreshed. She took in a deep breath, inhaling the winds of change, and with it, hope for her future. A future with Ben.
Rebecca pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket and pressed Ben’s phone number. As it rang, she felt like a teenager. She’d called him a million times since he’d arrived in town, but it was always business related. This time, she was asking for a date. She was just about to give up when he picked up.
“Hey, there. I was just thinking about you.”
Just hearing his voice calmed her trepidation. “You were? Good thoughts, I hope.”
“Always. What’s up?”
“I was wondering if you’d want to join me for dinner?” Rebecca held her breath as she waited for his response.
“I already fed you, and you’re tipping the scale as it is.”
Rebecca was speechless. She wagered he’d been drinking because there was no other explanation. He couldn’t be that cruel. If he meant it to be funny, he had a gross sense of humor. “Excuse me?”
“Oh, no, not you! I’m sorry. I was talking to Clyde.”
Rebecca ran a list of common acquaintances and the name Clyde didn’t ring a bell. “Who’s Clyde?”
“Jason’s cat. Sorry, you were saying?”
“I was asking you over for dinner.” Rebecca once again awaited his response when finally, he laughed—an uncontrollable laugh.
“You—you thought I—I was talking about you? You were inviting—me to dinner—and…” His laughter made his breath catch and squeal.
“Are you quite done, Benjamin?” she asked.
“That sounds great,” he said with a snicker. “How soon can I be there?”
Rebecca bit her lower lip in relief. “Give me an hour.”
She hung up and slid her phone back into her pocket. “Benjamin Daly, I hope you’re ready for an unforgettable night.”
Chapter 43
Ben freshened up with a clean shave and, after several attempts, chose a buttoned-up, navy-blue shirt he hoped Becky would like. Why am I nervous? He tucked his shirt into his jeans. It’s just dinner. He shook his head and buckled his belt, then slid into his loafers. He nodded with approval at his reflection. As excited as he was about being cleared to fly, his need to tell her was waning. He wanted the night to be perfect: no upsets, no arguments, no drama. He wanted, as Becky put it, unforgettable. He grinned at the thought.
Ben glanced at his watch. He had time to kill before he headed to Rebecca’s. Instead of pacing the floor at Jason’s, especially because Jason was busy preparing for his date, he decided to make a run for a bottle of wine for Becky.
Ben drove down Congress Street, in Portsmouth, per Jason’s suggestion, in search of LaBelle Winery. To his delight, he found a parking space across from its entrance and snagged it.
Portsmouth had transformed since he’d last spent time there. The historic seaport had grown, and the bustling vibe was palpable. He crossed the street toward the large green archway in the heart of Market Square and stepped inside LaBelle Winery, taking in its welcoming atmosphere. A young lady greeted him with a pleasant smile, and was kind enough to direct him to one of their wine experts to assist him with his purchase. Then dashed off to Rebecca’s, knowing he’d be cutting it close. He was grateful the traffic was manageable.
Ben pulled into the parking spot but hesitated to get out of the car. Don’t screw it up. He gave the steering wheel a confident squeeze, grabbed the wine he’d selected from LaBelle Winery, and strode toward the steps that lead to Rebecca’s door. To his delight, she opened the door for him.
“Hello, Benjamin,” she said with a glint in her eyes and a wide smile.
He sure liked the carefree Becky standing before him. Her hair was loosely gathered atop her head. A few wisps escaped, leaving her adorably sexy.
He stepped in, and to his surprise, she gave him a warm peck on the cheek.
“It smells amazing in here. What are we having?”
“It’s my homemade marinara simmering. We’re having chicken parmesan. You like chicken parmesan, right?” she asked as he handed her the paper bag with the wine. “More gifts?”
“Just a little something to go with dinner.” He removed his coat and draped it over the arm of the living room chair as she peeked in the bag. “I wasn’t sure what we were having, so I got both a red and white alchemy.”
“Perfect! One for dinner and one for dessert.” She marched toward the kitchen, and he followed.
Perfect indeed.
She opened the fridge and placed the bottle of white alchemy in the door, and set the red on the table. He was about to sit when she spun around and grabbed him by the hand. “I want to show you something.”
They headed toward her quilting room. Her happy-go-lucky demeanor transfixed him, and he couldn’t imagine what she’d want him to see.
“Sophie gave me an idea today. She suggested that we have a silent auction at the gala, and I want you to help me select one of my quilts to sell. I need to start marketing the items as soon as I can and figured I’d start the ball rolling with my own contribution. What do you think?”
Before he could get a word in, she continued, “Good idea, right?”
They stepped inside the room. “They’re over here.”
She dragged him to the big, wooden worktable, where she’d had three different quilts laid out. “Well?” she asked, staring up at him. “What do you think?”
She was happy. Her green eyes were full of fire, and her cheeks were flush, giving her a glow that was appealing. How can I ever leave now?
He reluctantly pulled his gaze away from her and examined the quilts. One was a series of stars, and each star was a combination of pale pink, mint, in both solid colors and floral prints. Another appeared to resemble how he’d built log cabins when he was a kid with varying lengths of rectangles placed in square patterns. The last one used numerous triangles that formed diamonds. Ben liked the last one the best. Its colors were bright and reminded him of the colors of the ocean, with its blues, teals, and greens.
He picked up the quilt, intending to open it up. “Do you mind?”
“Of course.” She leaned back against the worktable and rested her palms on its edge.
“Wow, it’s big. It must have taken you forever.”
“Nah, it’s a pretty basic pattern, really. After you do enough of them, it comes together pretty quickly.” Rebecca stepped closer. “I also sketched out another idea that I could make instead. It’s the Nubble Lighthouse—come see.”
Ben refolded the quilt and laid it back on the table, then stepped to another table just below the bank of windows. She sifted through papers strewn about the tabletop to find the one she wanted.
“This is something I’ve been wanting to do forever. As you can see,” she pointed out, “it’s Nubble—obviously. But I want it to look like a sunrise behind the lighthouse with calm waters.”
Ben considered her vision. “I’d be like depicting hope or something. A new day, peace…”
“Yes—exactly,” she said before her once cheerful disposition transformed before his eyes.
“What is it, Becky?”
“With everything else I have to do, I’m not sure I can pull this one off, but it makes the most sense, right?”
“It’s a landmark and it could get more bids for Stepping Stones.” He thought about the huge task of adding the auction to the gala’s agenda, and the workload in his absence would fall on her. “What if I could take collecting the auction items off your plate? Would that help you find the time to make your quilt?”
“That would be great, but as soon as the doctor clears you to go, you’ll be leaving.” She cast her eyes to the floor and crossed her arms.
He placed his hands on her cheeks and lifted her face toward him. Her sadness tugged at his heart. She’d been through too much disappointment. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t cause it again. “I already saw the doctor. He said it’s going to be a while before I’m cleared to fly again.” He hadn’t wanted to lie, but he didn’t want her to think he was only staying out of guilt.
Rebecca’s lips quivered.
“I thought you’d be happy,” he said, trying to understand.
“I—I am. I’m sorry you can’t go back, but honestly, it feels like a weight has lifted.”
A tear trickled down her cheek, and he gently wiped it away with his thumb. Her supple lips forced a meek grin, and he leaned in and kissed her. Her taste was salty as he drew her to him. She didn’t pull away; she embraced his advances. Ben lifted her and set her on the edge of the table as their mouths explored each other’s. Becky’s warm hands held his cheeks, and she pressed closer. Ben took in the sweet scent of her and her tender touch. He ran his hands down the length of her sleeved arms, savoring her—caressing her, but she tensed and pulled away, once again a look of sadness filled her eyes.
“We should stop.” Rebecca put her hand on his chest, pushing him away, and slid herself off the table. “I’m going to work on our dinner.”
She walked away, leaving him baffled and feeling utterly confused.
He turned to sit on the edge of the table. He replayed the event in his mind and couldn’t make sense of it. He thought he’d read her well, that she was open and ready for a more intimate relationship. What happened?
Chapter 44
Rebecca stood in the kitchen, having left Ben in her wake. What’s wrong with me?
She’d gotten an answer to her prayer. He was staying. He was committing. And he’d wantonly kissed her.
She rubbed her hand down her arm the same as he’d just done, and could feel her rippled skin beneath her shirt sleeve. He touched me. He’d already seen her scars, and they didn’t seem to bother him, but they bothered her. Rebecca didn’t feel pretty or sexy. She felt ugly, and that ugliness was a constant reminder of her selfishness.
Rebecca was wrong to wish he’d stay in York Harbor. He was only staying because he had no other choice. He didn’t want to or wasn’t choosing her. Self-pity bore down on her like an anvil. He pitied her too. She just knew it.
Ben treaded softly as he approached while she spread marinara sauce over the chicken breasts. She could feel herself tense up again and forced herself to relax.
“Would you mind opening the wine for me?” she asked, thinking keeping him busy might help.
“Sure. Which one?”
“Let’s start with the red alchemy, but we’ll have to save enough of it for our dinner. We can let the white continue chilling while the chicken bakes.”
She dug through the drawer in search of a corkscrew and handed it to Ben. He opened the bottle in silence as she placed two glasses in front of him. Still, he was quiet. She could hear the glug of wine filling each glass. As he handed the goblet to her, she drew in the sweet scent of the grapes.
They stared at each other, daring one another to take the first sip. He seemed detached as he peered over the rim. He was seeing right through her; Ben was there, but not really. He was simply going through the motions.
“I’m sorry, Ben.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. I misread. I shouldn’t have pushed.”
Rebecca gulped down a big swig of the red alchemy. The rich blend of fruit, spice, and woodland notes warmed her throat and eased her angst. “It’s not you. Really.”
She could only imagine what he might be thinking. It’s not you, it’s me. The cliché wasn’t lost on her, but it was a true statement. She didn’t want to push him away. On the contrary, she never wanted him to leave, but her insecurities took over. If he shied away from her body, there was no going back from that. She would be crushed and demoralized. The tension between them would put the project at risk, and she couldn’t allow that to happen. Stepping Stones was more important than her need to be loved.
Ben took a drink. “I can’t figure you out. I’m sorry, as much as I try, I’ll be damned if I can.”
“You’re not alone.” Rebecca took another swig. “I’m not trying to be aloof—truly, I’m not.”
Rebecca sprinkled parmesan cheese over the sauce and placed the chicken dish in the oven. Ben had pulled out a chair and had a seat. His silence, she noted, wasn’t that of a pouting man. No, it was patient and concerned.
She took another long drink of the wine before turning to face him. “I’m afraid, Benjamin.”
He squinted his eyes and cocked his head. “You’re afraid of me?”
“Goodness, no.” She knelt in front of him and rested her hand on his knee. “I’d never be afraid of you. You’ve never given me a reason to.” She bit her lip, then bit the bullet. “I’m afraid that if you see me for who I really am, you’ll wish you hadn’t, and that would mess up everything.”
“Because you still don’t trust me, Becky.”
“No. It’s not that. It’s not that at all.”
“Then what is it? What could possibly be so bad that you’re afraid I’d walk away?”
Rebecca took his hand in hers and came to a stand. “I’d like to show you something.”
She was dizzy as she stood and wondered if the wine was hitting her hard or if it was the sheer nervousness of what she was about to expose that caused her to waver.
Ben followed her down the hallway to her bedroom.
“You can sit there.” She pointed to a chair in the corner of her room.
She swallowed hard and proceeded to her closet. She got on her hands and knees and moved a few pairs of shoes to the side. She lifted the hem of one of her longer skirts and retrieved a box. Her hands shook as she held the box to her chest. She paused to gain her composure and carried it to where Ben sat.
“I’d like to tell you a story, a story that I’ve never told anyone.” She paused with a sigh. “I’m telling you this because you deserve to know the truth about me. Then, whatever decision you choose to make about us, I’ll accept. I promise.” Rebecca bit her lower lip and willed her heart rate to slow. She handed him the box.
Ben took the white box. It covered his lap, and he looked at it as if he wasn’t sure he should open it. “You don’t have to do this.”
Ben removed the box from his lap and set it on the floor. He stood and stroked the loose tendril of hair behind her ear, then ran his finger across her quivering lips. “You don’t owe me anything. It’s me that owes you.”
“I need to Benjamin. It’s something I think I really need to do.”
“Then let’s do it together.” He picked up the box and took her by the hand, leading her to the edge of the bed. “Sit.” He patted the bed. She obediently sat, and the weight of him sat down next to her. He placed the box over both their laps. “I’ll lift the lid with you.” He kissed her temple. “When you’re ready, go ahead, and I’ll follow.”
Rebecca leaned into his shoulder, grateful for his kindness, then sat up and slid the cover off the box up. To him, the content wouldn’t mean much, but to her, it meant everything.
The lifted cover exposed a folded quilt. Rebecca removed the quilt from the confines of the box and set the box aside, then handed the quilt to Ben. “Go ahead, open it up.”
Ben’s puzzled look didn’t surprise her. He unfurled the quilt and memories washed over her. The patchwork design had a multitude of fabrics: some were floral, some checked, others solid, and others had images of childish creatures, such as bunnies, chicks, butterflies, and kittens. The quilt was tattered with an unraveled edge, but it was large enough to cover a twin bed. A singed swath caught Ben’s attention.
“I don’t understand.”
“My mom made this quilt for me for my tenth birthday. All the patchwork is from various clothes that I’d worn as a child. She told me she only used her favorite ones, the ones that meant something special to her.” Rebecca pointed out a few of the squares. “This one was from the first dress I wore when I was born. This one is from my first birthday.”
Ben touched the section and glided his finger over the pattern of ribbons.
“And there’s one from my first day of school, and that one is from my favorite blanky.” Rebecca could feel her throat tighten. She swallowed the lump down, forcing herself to continue. “I kept this quilt at the foot of my bed, slept with it, and carried it with me when I watched tv, and spent the night with friends.”
She flipped the quilt over to reveal the back side. It was worn with thinning threads, loose knots, and stitches. In the lower right-hand corner was some embroidery that was barely legible because of the singeing. “This says, ‘Rebecca, my darling daughter, and love of my life, may you always be wrapped in love, Mom.’”
Rebecca could no longer stop her tears from falling. She closed her eyes and leaned into Ben. After a few moments, she pulled herself together and wiped her tears.
Ben wrapped his arm around her, holding her closely. Rebecca reached for the quilt and Ben loosened his grip on her as well as the quilt. She straightened up and continued. “You must be wondering what any of this has to do with anything.”
