River's Lost (River's End #6), page 12
Ben slowly pivoted around and slid the backpack to the floor.
Jocelyn clutched her precious baby tightly to her chest, grasping the blanket in her fists. She found it hard to breathe and her skin practically boiled. This was so awkward, so terrible, and so unfair even in her worst scenarios. How wrong the situation was. Last time they spoke, they were friends. Last time they were together, they performed an act of betrayal to everything that meant anything to either of them. Now? Now, they had a baby together.
“I didn’t know about… that,” Ben finally said. He was just standing there, shuffling his feet in silence, his gaze fixed on hers before glancing away.
That? Her baby? Their daughter? The human being in her arms. Lillian? He dared to call her that?
She bristled. “She isn’t a that.”
He shook his head. “I know. I meant her. I didn’t know about her.”
“Of course, I understand you didn’t know. But now that you do?”
“I’m trying to figure out what the hell to say to you. Sorry? Should I be sorry I was gone? Unavailable for it all? Or angry because you didn’t tell anyone? There was no way I could have known.”
“You wouldn’t have known about it even if I told the entire valley. You were gone, Ben.”
“It never occurred to me, not something like this.” He waved towards her, indicating the sleeping baby.
“That and this. God, Ben. She’s here. She’s my daughter. Yours too. But believe me, I don’t give a crap what you decide to do with that knowledge. You had to know. I get that. But you do now and so far, your response was to take a ridiculous amount of time in coming back here and choosing not to call me. You could have called me at any point along with way, you know.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I had no reason to call you.”
“I meant after Jack found you and told you the news.”
“Really? What could I have said over the phone? We can’t even figure out what to do now.”
She turned her head to the side, staring out the window towards the river. “I didn’t trick you that night.”
“I didn’t think you did.”
“You can’t be angry at me about this part of it. I didn’t want a baby any more than you did. In fact, I prayed very hard that I could learn to deal with it. But now that she is here, I wouldn’t trade her for anything in the world.”
He dropped his arms and shook his head, blowing out a deep breath. “It wasn’t your fault. It was mine.”
Flummoxed by his admission, she studied his downturned face as he spoke, staring at his sneakers.
“We were both active participants,” she muttered. Having violated their friendship, their hopes for a future relationship were risky.
“She… Marcy, I mean, in the past used to poke holes in the condoms I kept around. She wanted to have a baby. I kept saying no, considering how things were going. I think… I think she must’ve gotten to the one I wore that night. I’m sure it never occurred to her that I’d cheat. So you see, it’s actually my fault.”
Jocelyn’s looked up and her head rushed with raw emotions. Anger. Shock. Relief. She was glad to know it wasn’t her fault. The jolt of hearing she in reference to Marcy, the dead woman, the one who formerly came between them, was a little harsh. Even hearing the word condom out of Ben’s mouth had Jocelyn’s cheeks flushing with heat. It never was that way between them.
What was the new norm for two longtime, childhood friends, who acted more like two guys together, when discussing their baby and other intimate things like sex and condoms? She took in a deep breath to steady her nerves.
Ben turned and flopped down on the couch, rubbing his disheveled hair. Jocelyn chewed on her lower lip, staring down at Ben sitting there slouched before her. Didn’t he want to see his own child? Wasn’t the curiosity killing him? She didn’t get Ben. Who was this stranger before her whom she thought she’d known most of her life?
“Where did you go that night?”
She sat in the lone rocking chair given to her by one of the family members. They thought it would come in handy for soothing Lillian. She automatically began to rock back and forth, Lillian’s warmth and weight in her hands bolstering her courage.
Ben stared at his feet. With a sigh, his shoulders jutted back as if he were steadying his nerves. “I drove around but was halted by the fire crew. Finally, I waited at the command center. The dispatches came in and I heard… I heard what happened.”
She swallowed a lump of guilt and grief. The horror of his story didn’t fail to upset her.
“The firefighter who gave me all the updates looked at me, and I knew. He turned to me and our eyes met and I instantly knew what he was about to say. I couldn’t stay to hear it. I just… ran. I don’t remember parts of it. I just took off running. I ran until I thought my heart would stop. Miles, I think. I remember smelling and tasting all the smoke. I finally walked back to my truck and got in. I didn’t want to speak to anyone; I just started driving. I went faster and tried not to think. I could not think. I could not feel either. I just drove some more.”
Tears fell over her eyelids. She could picture him so clearly doing that. The guilt must have nearly eaten his stomach alive. She understood only too well how suffocating guilt can be. She could only imagine his.
“I guess in most ways, I haven’t stopped running yet. I try not to stop long enough to let it catch me.” He lifted his gaze to hers. His blue eyes were haggard, stormy, and tortured. They were so full of emotions, Jocelyn reacted by clutching her baby closer. He looked so terrible. “Because I don’t know what I’ll do when it finally does hit me.”
“That’s why you left?”
“I didn’t intend to come back.”
“Because by being here, you think it might catch you?”
“Oh… it will catch me.” His tone sounded hollow and defeated.
Jocelyn understood, perhaps more than anyone else. She dropped her gaze, unable to stand the bitterness, pain, guilt, and rage she now saw in Ben’s once clear and trusting eyes. She hated how much he’d changed. The hardness she saw in his face and eyes along with the crushed slouch he now possessed made her sad.
After a long, uncomfortable silence, she whispered, “It’s not Lillian’s fault, Ben.”
His gaze lifted off the ground and went from her to the bundle she held against her. “I know.”
“I won’t allow you to blame this innocent baby.”
“I don’t know what to do with her,” he finally admitted. Jocelyn was startled by his statement… and the brutal honesty of it.
“You think I do? Until the moment I laid eyes on her, I had no clue either; then it all made sense.”
His mouth was bracketed in lines of stress. He kept folding his hands and clasping them together. That small, nervous tic was endearing to Jocelyn and the only reason she didn’t kick him out. His words and attitude were all wrong, but his visible anxiety showed something decent still resided in him. She had the same sense of discomfort, anxiety, and unsureness.
Something inside him might still feel something for her.
“Do you want to see her? Or are you going to just pretend she doesn’t exist?” she finally spat out, unable to take his odd reaction any longer.
He nodded. “I know. I just don’t know how.”
“How to look at her?”
“How to do anything with her.”
“You have to see your daughter,” she said in a firm voice. “You simply have to. Or just leave now.”
A small smile appeared on his lips. “That’s the old you, the one I recognize. I don’t even know how to talk to you anymore. You don’t sound like the old you, either. Everything is all so fucking odd.”
Nearly snorting, all the stress, worry, awkwardness, fear, and unease made Jocelyn’s eyes fill with tears as she half laughed at the unique circumstances. “Oh, God, it’s so fucking odd. How? How did we get here?”
Ben’s eyes met hers in an honest and very real moment, and the knowledge of each other they shared passed between them. “I don’t know. Honest to God, I’ve spent the last nine months trying to make some kind of sense of it and I can’t, and then to cap it all off… this.”
He nodded, slowly rising to his feet. Her heart beat faster as he stepped closer and she shut her eyes for a moment, unable to handle the intensity of his gaze. When her eyelids fluttered open, he was nearer to her, and his body heat seemed to singe her skin. She was so physically aware of him. He put a hand on the back of the wooden chair, just behind her head. His other hand rested on the armrest and he leaned over her. She nearly gulped out loud as she gently loosened her baby from her chest and lay her flat on her thighs.
Lillian made a face and startled at the sudden movement. The blanket slid down, exposing her chest and little hands to the cooler air. She scrunched up her face and lifted her hands up by her head before slowly settling back into sleep. Those kind of moments happened by the hundreds but never failed to keep Jocelyn entranced. She was captivated, and nearly smitten with her daughter while watching her sleep. She wanted to catalogue every movement and file it away for her heart to hold on to.
“This is our daughter, Ben.”
Ben leaned closer. His profile was directly in her line of sight. His hair fell over his forehead and he started to tug at the blanket before he stopped. “I should wash my hands first. We stopped at a tavern earlier for lunch.”
She sniffed and recognized the flat smell of beer on his breath. Wonderful. Lovely. But her heart was thumping hard. Why wasn’t Ben melting? Or holding Lillian to his chest? Or calling her every complimentary adjective there was: lovely, beautiful, wonderful, adorable, cute? No words could capture the essence of the creature in her arms, but why wasn’t he falling in love with her like she did?
“What do you think?”
“She’s so… small.”
Precious. Helpless. Delicate. Needy. Vulnerable. Theirs. She was also theirs and her entire well–being, safety, nutrition, hell, her survival depended upon them. How could that not slam through Ben’s mind and stimulate his need to protect and shield her from everything and everyone who could possibly threaten her? Why wasn’t that sense of responsibility that she felt not suffocating Ben? He was not falling to his knees or taking her into his arms.
“She weighed six pounds and one ounce when she was born. She’s tiny. But healthy. Very healthy. She lost a few ounces shortly after birth, but is gaining them back. I guess that is normal.”
“That’s… that’s good. I mean, I’m glad she’s doing so well.”
I did that. Jocelyn wanted to scream into his face. She successfully bore their daughter safely to term and delivered her whole and healthy. She happily nourished, loved, and cared for her so why didn’t Ben feel like that? His words were so… generic. God. She could slam her fist into his face. How could he be so blasé with his first glimpse at the tiny angel he saw in Jocelyn’s arms?
He didn’t rise, but kept staring at her. Jocelyn had no idea what he was thinking. It wasn’t how she pictured the moment. How could anyone look at this most perfect being ever born on the earth and not have a passionate response and instant attachment to her? She figured he’d need to hug her, hold her, and apologize for appearing so late in her life. Days late. Almost two whole weeks.
Was he angry at the circumstances that made her?
No, Ben was unsure, timid, and oddly apathetic about Lillian, but Jocelyn did not sense any anger; and that almost made Jocelyn want to hurt him. How could he not be passionate one way or the other about this child? Was he numb? Surely he possessed some feelings. Some recognition of his paternity, and his relationship to the most beautiful child of the century? Instead, he seemed completely unsure and so uncomfortable as if she might reach up and bite him. Why was he so wary and keeping his distance?
He straightened up and walked to the kitchen sink to wash his hands, acting for the first time as if he recognized the living space.
Lillian started to squirm around and yawn before her blue eyes popped open, as well as her mouth. Her face scrunched up and she let out a squeaky yelp and then another until she built up for a real good, lusty howl and then another.
“What's wrong with her?” Ben turned from the sink, quickly drying his hands. He stared in alarm at the baby.
“Well, I don’t know exactly, Ben. I became a parent the same goddamned day that you did. I suppose she’s hungry, or needs a diaper change, or simply a cuddle. Or perhaps, her stomach hurts or she needs to cough or fart or… How the hell do you think I know?” Jocelyn stood up as her voice rose in competition with the rising shrills of Lillian. “She’s just a baby. She doesn’t tell me what’s wrong.”
“I’ve never been around babies. Just Shane’s. But I didn’t take much interest. I mean…”
Jocelyn gritted her teeth. “Well, neither have I. Not once. I didn’t inherit some kind of special mommy powers just because you had sex with me and fertilized my egg. I mean, for crap sakes, Ben, I know nothing about parenting either. I’ve been shown how to do everything and what little I know is purely from doing and trying. So I’m going to try something with her because that’s all I can do; never mind that it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
Of course, she could not contain her anger. His sheer lack of gratitude for this baby once he made eye contact with her had Jocelyn fuming and roiling in anger. How dare he not fall in love with her at first sight? Here. Now. At this moment. He was her father. Jocelyn was her mother and despite being terrified and afraid of having a baby, the moment Jack showed Lillian to her as she lay on the hard floor of the shack, all she could feel was unconditional love for her child. One moment. One second. And Ben? Eh. His reaction was so unimpressed, stating how small she was. No. No, that wasn’t okay. Where was his love for her, toward her, about her? Where was the father he should have been? Just as she became the mother she now was? It wasn’t magic. It wasn’t based on preplanning or even wanting a baby, but once seeing that baby, the bond was established. And there was something drastically wrong with Ben if he could not feel that.
She turned and clutched her screaming infant and went into the bedroom, slamming the door. Her tears falling, she quickly changed the dirty diaper and planted Lillian on her breast. All the while, she glared at the closed door and her sinking expectations settled into a knot that lodged in her stomach.
Chapter Eight
BEN STOOD AT THE kitchen sink. His mouth dropped open in shock at the now empty spot where Jocelyn just stood. She left in a flurry and locked herself in the bedroom. What the hell? What did he do? He was simply washing his hands, preparing to touch the baby. Why would she fly off the handle at that? What did he say that was so wrong? He felt numb. Inside and outside. Even his fingertips didn’t feel like they belonged to him, as if the sensations he received were being felt by someone else. It was like an out–of–body experience to return to his former place of residence and instead of finding Marcy and his previous life there, he felt oddly transported into another person’s life.
The whole thing was an unmanageable disaster. And nothing could instantly turn it around into anything better. He had to face his own family as well as the judgmental residents of the valley. Yeah, all them too. He knew he had to stay. There was nowhere else for him to go or live, and any freedom he might have had prior to that moment was over too. Whether he wanted the child in the next room or not, it didn’t matter anymore. It was over and done. Now he had to live with the consequences of his poor judgment.
A loud thump on the door interrupted his rambling, overwhelming thoughts.
He answered the door, grateful for the distraction. Charlie stood there.
Ben’s heart was nearly crusted over in a layer of ice and stone. He sometimes wondered why he was still alive, but all of that fractured just a sliver at the sight of his cherished little brother. Now fifteen, Charlie had grown a little in the last nine months. He wasn’t nearly as tall as Ben and Jack were. He had brighter red hair than Ben’s auburn, dull–red color. Charlie had freckles and the same bright blue eyes as Ben and Jack. The family genes were distinctly represented when all three of them were together. He could not remember how many times he’d been told he was the spitting image of his father, only twenty years younger. It was impossible to count how often people said that.
“Hey, Charlie.”
“‘Hey Charlie’? That’s all you have to say? ‘Hey’?” Charlie’s face didn’t break into a smile. His gaze remained frosty and his lips turned down into a mean scowl. “Where have you been?”
“Why don’t you come in?”
“I don’t want to come in. I want to know where you’ve been.” The unbridled anger emanated from Charlie’s slim shoulders. He wasn’t a large kid, but small, narrow, and compact. Ben didn’t expect him to ever undertake any heavy lifting for the ranching chores.
“I traveled to Montana. I worked odd jobs. Settled down to working on the oil fields that are all over the east end of the state. Lived in cheap motels.”
“How could you just leave?”
“Marcy—”
“Died. She died and we buried her without you. We grieved for her as well as you; we lost both of you. While Dad…”
Ben winced. Leave it to his brother to cut right into it. “Yeah, Dad’s not—”
“Dad anymore. You ruined him, you selfish prick. First, you went off and got married without anyone’s knowledge and then when your wife died, you chose to disappear? Then the whole place burned up and it took all of us just to keep it afloat. So where were you? Where were you, Ben?”
“Charlie.” Ben stepped back, almost physically pushed away by the fierce savageness of Charlie’s pent–up anger towards him. Shocked by it, actually. He’d been treated so far with compassion and kindness. Most people felt so sorry for him, they could not stand it, let alone lay into him over it. “I’ve been… screwed up in the head too. As much as Dad is, so was I.”
“Because of you, he thinks it’s somehow his fault. He thinks he ruined your life. Really though, it was exactly the opposite. You ruined our lives. Our home burned. It’s all gone. I watched it smoldering for days and where were you? Nowhere. Nowhere that mattered, anyway.” Charlie fisted his hands. His tone wasn’t loud, but mean and accusatory.
