Patchwork to Healing, page 27
He clasped his hands under his chin as he tried to make sense of it. He wasn’t sure if he felt sad for her because of all that she’d been through to cause her to think that way, disappointed that he wasn’t worthy of her, or hurt that she trusted so little. But knowing that she loved him wasn’t lost on him either. He just questioned if she even knew what love was. He sure as hell didn’t.
Ben stood up, picked up his bowl and spoon, and carried them to the sink. She’d opened up to him and bared her soul, which he recognized was brave. She’d trusted him with her story. Her trauma afterwards, well, that was regretful. She was still in pain as she sat looking like a worn-out ragdoll. He owed her some kind of response, but the words wouldn’t come.
He wasn’t used to caring so deeply for anyone. If it had been someone else, he’d never have allowed the relationship to get to this point. His relationships were shallow, which he hated to admit, but it was true. He walked away after the first sign of drama. He’d had enough drama in his own life, and he’d never intended to add more. But the truth was, he cared too much for Rebecca, and he had no idea what to do with his feelings.
He’d always compartmentalized his life. There was work. Those losses of life or the saving of them weren’t about him; they were other people’s problems. His social life was as he wanted it—strictly social and superficial. Family was non-existent, so there was no issue there. Romantic relationships were to satisfy his needs and nothing more. This, however, threw him for a loop. He had absolutely no idea what to make of it.
He sauntered back to the table and sat down. She’d barely eaten a thing, and she was, once again, pale. Ben wanted nothing more than to talk this out, but she was clearly fading again, and he was worried about her.
“I want you to know that I’ve heard what you’ve said—all of it—and I know it was a really hard thing to share with me, especially after our history together. So, thank you for trusting me with it.”
He got up from his seat and stepped closer to her. He kneeled at her side, wrapped his arm around her waist, and grasped her clenched hands on her lap.
“I think. . .” He hesitated. “I think it might be best if we talk more about this once you’ve had some more rest.”
Her head jerked to face him, and her eyes were wide. As he spoke, he touched his fingers to her lips.
“Honey, please. Once we’ve both had a full night’s sleep, we can talk more, but for now, I really think maybe we should call it a night.”
“Fine. Sure. Tomorrow then.”
Rebecca removed his hands and slid her chair back, nearly knocking Ben off balance. She picked up her bowl. She pulled open the drawer that held the trash and spooned her remaining chicken and dumplings in the bag, then pushed the drawer closed with her foot. She placed the bowl in the sink and walked out of the room while he stood there, dumbfounded.
“What did I say?”
As Rebecca clomped up the stairs, she stopped. “It’s what you didn’t say, Benjamin.”
He could hear her race up the rest of the stairs, then slammed the door to Mrs. G’s room shut.
Ben sighed. Well, that could have gone better.
Chapter 48
Rebecca was floored at his non response. Wait until tomorrow! I just poured my heart out and confessed how I feel about him, and that’s what I get? She was mortified. Sure, he’d listened to her, and he didn’t seem to judge her, but this rejection was too much. It infuriated her that he wasn’t man enough to admit that he wasn’t interested in her. Pity, she confirmed, was the worst feeling ever.
“Honey this and Honey that,” he’d said, but his Honey was sour. He was appeasing her and nothing more. She was sure of it.
She pounded her pillow, then flipped onto her back, staring at the ceiling. What am I doing here, anyway? she thought, then remembered it was precisely where she’d asked him to take her.
She’d never stayed in Mrs. Getchel’s room before, save for the time she’d had a nightmare. She’d crawled into her bed like a child. Mrs. Getchel had simply pulled her into her breast and caressed her hair, asking her to tell her all about it, but her dreams were too close to reality, and she hadn’t wanted to open up that can of worms.
She lay there, once again, wishing that she could tell Mrs. Getchel everything that was swirling around in her mind. Rebecca missed her friend nearly as much as she missed her own parents, but she found herself getting angrier by the minute, and the urge to throw something was building.
Mrs. Getchel had manipulated her and Ben and, because of her meddling, Benjamin Daly had weaseled his way into her heart once again, only to leave her empty in the end.
What were you thinking by bringing us together and forcing us to do your bidding? Rebecca thumped her fists on the bed in frustration. Just knowing Ben was downstairs, probably going about his business as if nothing important had just taken place. She screamed into her pillow, then threw it across the room, which knocked down a framed collage to the floor.
Rebecca sat up and her attention went to her carefully folded quilt at the foot of the bed. She reached for it and brought it to her chin. The words of her mother fell open in her lap. May you always be wrapped in love. Her words felt like a proverbial slap in the face. The inescapable feeling of loss crept over, hovering like a storm cloud ready to burst wide open at any moment.
Rebecca thought about the quilts she’d made over the years. Each message she’d embroidered was meant to bring hope to their recipients. Now, she realized, they might have only brought on disappointment. Even the joy of creating her quilts seemed futile.
A knock on the bedroom door snapped her out of her downward-spiraling thoughts and soon another, but louder, rapping came.
“What do you want, Ben?”
“Can I please come in?” His voice seemed strained and unsure.
She considered her reply.
“Please, Becky.”
She rolled her eyes and stepped out of the bed, then released the latch that held the door locked. Rebecca sighed, then opened the door. Ben’s distress was apparent as he stood, acting as if he was unsure of what to do with his hands.
“You may as well come in.” Seriously, she thought, how could this night possibly get any worse?
Ben entered the room. His eyes caught sight of the wall hanging lying on the floor, then he turned toward her. “May I sit?”
“Sure.” She made a flippant motion to the spot next to her on the bed.
He sat down and shifted to face her. His tongue found the inside of his cheek and his gaze roamed the room as if he were searching for words.
“I’m sorry. I realize I didn’t handle what you shared with me appropriately. Or even how I’d intended.” His gaze fell on her as he straightened his back. “This is all new to me, and I confess, I’m not sure what to do with it.” He hesitated and looked at the ceiling. “I’ve had no one in my life that I really cared about, in this way. I have to admit that it scares me a little.”
Rebecca was stunned. His confession was the last thing that she’d expected from him. At each turn, he ended up surprising her. She sat silently, realizing that her silence did not differ from how he’d responded to her after she’d poured her heart out. She now understood how he’d been feeling. She regretted her hasty and juvenile retreat, but she still couldn’t bring herself to reply with any sort of coherent response.
“I don’t know how to do this, Becky. I keep trying to show you how I feel about you. Doing stuff is all I know how to do. Words, well, words about how I feel, as you now know, don’t come easy. But know this; I do care for you, deeply. Maybe that’s what love feels like.” Ben cleared his throat and looked in her direction. “I honestly don’t know, but I’m willing to figure it out if you are.”
Rebecca could no longer hold back her overwhelming relief. He loved her and that consuming thought came out as tears. But for the first time she could remember, they were happy tears.
His exasperated expression was short lived. She threw her arm around him. His embrace matched hers with a need that devoured them both. His embrace was more comforting than her beloved quilt. Her mouth found his with a hunger and desire she’d never known.
***
Rebecca sipped her coffee, welcoming the new day both literally and metaphorically as she peered out the window of Mrs. Getchel’s kitchen. The morning sky burst with crimson and orange, which led Rebecca to dare to believe that brighter days were ahead.
Ben came up from behind her. His arms found her waist, and she leaned against him. A sense of safety enveloped her and gave her a long kiss on the top of her head. She took in the scent of his shaving cream and his warmth, wishing the moment would never end.
“Sleep well?” He swayed them back and forth as if they were dancing to a song that only he could hear.
“Mmm,” she murmured. “I sure did, and you?”
“Like a baby.” He turned her toward him.
Rebecca set her coffee down on the counter. She wrapped her arms around his neck and they continued the dance. “I’m guessing this is what love is supposed to feel like?”
“I’d like to think so.”
She pressed her cheek on his chest and listened to his beating heart. They swayed in time to its rhythm. Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump played the music of their souls, a dance of unity of mind and spirit.
Ben pulled away and kissed the tip of her nose. His warm hands lingered on her cheeks with a tenderness that melted away any worry for her day. “It’s nice to see you smiling again.”
She flashed him a grin from ear to ear. “It feels good to smile again.”
“Good.” Ben kissed her on her forehead and took note of her coffee. “Any of that left?”
“Yep. We got lucky. There was a container of coffee in the cabinet. Enough for a small pot.”
Ben pulled a mug from the cupboard and poured a cup and topped hers off with the remaining coffee. “Are you still planning to go to work today?”
“Yes. I’ve got a bride coming in for a consult.” She enjoyed the time she spent with brides-to-be. Seeing them walk in unsure and then leave confident in their choices was satisfying. It was the part of her job that made it all worthwhile. That and the actual wedding day when everything was perfect. Today, she’d much rather just spend the day with Benjamin.
“Okay, then. I’m taking this with me.” He lifted his coffee. “While you’re getting ready, I thought I’d take care of the broken glass at your apartment, check on things for you, and pick up some breakfast sandwiches. I put your handbag with your phone on the entry table last night. Hopefully it’s charged. I didn’t think to grab the charger.” He pursed his lips. “Anyway, call me when you’re ready, and I’ll come back and pick you up.”
Rebecca couldn’t recall what he was talking about. My baking dish. A shiver crept up her spine at the memory of thinking her apartment was all ablaze. “Thank you, but—”
Ben touched his finger to her lips. “I’ve got this.”
“No. What I mean is, I have nothing to wear, and I don’t even have a toothbrush.” She cringed as that reality sank in and prayed she didn’t have horrid morning breath.
“Everything you should need for the day is upstairs. If I forgot anything, then we’ll swing by your place on the way to Proposals.”
“You packed a bag for me?”
“Of course.”
Of course, he did. What could I have been thinking? She shook her head. “Okay, then.”
“Great. The sooner I get going, the quicker I can get back.”
He was right. She needed to get ready and wanted to leave some extra time to swing into the attorney’s office. He had a packet of info that they’d need for the town meeting that was now only two days away. She wanted to look at everything in advance in hopes of giving her a little peace of mind and settle her angst.
“Thanks for taking care of everything, Benjamin.”
He gave her a peck on the cheek, and headed out the door.
Rebecca gulped the rest of her coffee and headed up stairs to the bedroom. The fallen collage of her temper tantrum caught her attention. She retrieved it from the floor and examined the frame. Outside of the cracked glass, she was relieved to see the frame had no sign of damage. Glass was replaceable.
She carried the frame to the bureau, carefully removed the backing, and withdrew the 8x10 collage and the two glass pieces. The backing of the patchwork of photos had a handwritten note. She assumed it was in Mrs. Getchel’s hand until she read the name. It read, “Mrs. Getchel, Thank you for giving me a family. Happy Birthday, Ben.”
She flipped the paper over and examined the images more closely. The photos were photocopies of the originals. Each picture was cut to bring out the faces and shape of the kids. Mrs. Getchel’s image took the center spot. Rebecca had seen the photo before in one of the albums downstairs.
Mrs. Getchel had taken special care to make scrapbooks of her foster kids and recorded their accomplishments. This photo of her was one taken in the backyard when Rebecca had lived there. She remembered the day as clear as a bell—the fourth of July, and they were having a barbecue. Mrs. Getchel had arranged to have a badminton set in the yard, along with a variety of other games, and a water sprinkler.
Rebecca remembered the laughter and the antics of the other kids. When evening came, and Mrs. Getchel lit the fire in the pit, Rebecca had withdrawn from the others.
Ben and Jason had roasted marshmallows and made s’mores while the younger kids lit up sparklers and danced around the yard, making swirling motions with their arms. The fire and the sparklers had caused her to tremble. Fire, in any form, was still a cause for PTSD to take over, but Mrs. Getchel had taken notice. She took her by the hand and walked her toward the side yard.
A large apple tree and flowering shrubs appeared as silhouettes in the moonlight. Rebecca could still see the shimmering sparklers dancing in the distance as Mrs. Getchel pointed out lightning bugs floating through the air all around them. They twinkled their lights, as if welcoming her to share in their fun. Rebecca caught a handful and watched them blink on her fingers. She marveled at the little flying creatures.
Ben had joined them, carrying a s’more in each hand. He’d handed her one. She could see in her mind’s eye his beaming smile before he took a bite of the melting chocolate. They hadn’t known the magnitude of what those two gracious acts of kindness meant to her, but she’d never forget.
Rebecca read the inscription again. “Thank you for giving me a family.”
She flipped to the photo side again and examined the other photos. They were all there: she and her fellow fosters: Benjamin, Jason, Frida, and Amy—her new family. She wondered if Ben had foreseen their future. Had he envisioned them as they now are, or had it been Mrs. Getchel, all along, that had seen their future? Rebecca’s questions continued as she set the collage on the bureau and collected her belongings to go take a shower.
She was dressed by the time Ben opened the front door, announcing he was back. Her heart skipped a beat just knowing he’d returned. She couldn’t get the smile off her face when she heard him whistling. He’s home.
Rebecca joined him in the kitchen as he pulled ham-egg-and-cheese sandwiches out of bags from Grounds Coffee Shop. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until he’d opened the wrapped sandwich and handed her one.
“Thank you. This is perfect.” She took a big bite and egg yolk oozed down her chin.
“Good.” He used his thumb to wipe away the drip from her chin. “I thought about us eating them on the way to Proposals, but honestly, I couldn’t wait another minute. It was all I could do to not devour mine in the car.”
At that moment, she saw Ben in a whole new light. He had shown her all along that he wasn’t selfish. It wasn’t just the sandwich that pulled at her heartstrings, it was all his acts of kindness over the years. Sure, he’d left all those years ago, but in doing so, they’d grown into the people that they were today. Had that not happened, they wouldn’t be where they were right now: two people that were bonded and meant to be together. They were ready and able to fulfill Mrs. Getchel’s final wish.
They finished up their sandwiches, grabbed their coats, and headed toward the door.
Ben stopped dead in his tracks. He pointed to the tattered slippers on her feet. “Where are your shoes?”
She peered down at her slippered feet, forgetting that she’d had them on. “I’m—I have absolutely no idea.”
Chapter 49
Rebecca was relieved when her consultation with the bride-to-be ended, and she was able to say her goodbyes. She was anxious to go over the documentation regarding Stepping Stones’ upcoming town meeting. Everything was on the line, and they couldn’t afford to have any hiccups. When Mr. Howard told them he’d received a certified letter from Mrs. Bennington the previous day, about some issues regarding the historical significance of the house, it had thrown them for a loop. Seemed Mrs. Bennington’s letter stressed that they were in violation of a town ordinance. If that was the case, it would stop the project in its tracks, with less than two days before the meeting, no less.
Rebecca could still see Mr. Howard’s trepidation when Ben had been irate at hearing this and demanded that Mr. Howard take care of it immediately. She wasn’t reassured when Mr. Howard stuttered and stammered his response, that he’d do just that.
Rebecca sat at her desk and pored through the documents, and reviewed the overall plans, hoping that they’d dotted all the I’s and crossed all the T’s. All she could think about was the ramification should Mrs. Bennington be right.
Rebecca had already pictured her and Ben welcoming kids in and helping them to recognize their full potential. The thought of anything jeopardizing that was more than she could bear.
