River's Lost (River's End #6), page 28
Allison spoke up. “I think we need more information, like actual architectural drawings, and all of us deserve to voice our opinions of what we see for such a facility. In the meantime, Ian, Kailynn, and Kate could calculate the cost to finance, insure, and then execute the project. Kate could help us with the marketing so we target the right people. We can’t do this based on gut reactions, or what we miss, or because we are trying to recapture more than what we lost. I agree we need to do something so big we can gain back some of the prestige that made us the Rydell River Ranch. Recreating what I first found here can’t happen. Ben’s right. But I think we could accommodate different ideas and find something new. There will be a lot of kids running around this place as the years pass by, far more children than Jack had to deal with. Consequently, we have to make this more than what we had before to give them all a fair chance of being part of it.”
“Eloquently said.” Erin nodded. “And I agree.”
The conversation proceeded into details and assignments of work. A new energy started to envelop the room. Voices rose and fell, and an argument broke out between Kate and Jack only to end in laughter when Jack threw his hands up as if under arrest, admitting he was mistaken and Kate was right. Ian was anxious to get a preliminary architectural drawing of the proposed arena with the mezzanine facilities. Kailynn wanted to research financing, insurance, and costs. The room had become a hive of excitement. A buzz of energy, voices rising and lowering… and underneath all of it? Hope. There was a renewed sense of hope now flowing through a family that had been beaten, depressed, and sad for too long.
Ben found Jocelyn standing next to him. She stared at him for a second as he straightened up on the bar stool he’d been sitting on. They said nothing for a long, intense while. The din of the room rose and fell around them, but in some ways, it practically faded out. It felt like the room contained only them.
Throwing her arms around his neck, Jocelyn hugged Ben. Her head leaned against his shoulder and her hands clung onto his neck. He tucked his face into the crook of her shoulder and slid his hand up to her neck, entering the base of her hair and cupping the back of her head. He tilted her face back far enough that he could see her. “Hey, what’s this all about? Not that I’m complaining.”
When she pulled back, she was blinking through her tears. A tiny smile tilted her lips. “Because you’re still you. I thought it ruined you. I thought you’d never be Ben again. I couldn’t stand that you were lost to your family, especially your dad, to the world really, but worst of all”—her voice dropped several octaves—“to me.” His entire family was in the room behind them. From his little brother and Cami to all his uncles and their wives and kids and his own daughter, who lay gurgling up at Cami. She preferred playing with Lillian more than listening to all of their schemes and proposals.
So rarely did Jocelyn open up to him. Her light brown eyes were wide and soft, almost liquid with feelings. He raised his other hand and brought it up to the side of her face, cupping it in his hand. “I don’t know where all this is going, but wherever and whatever the future of this place and this family is, I’ll be here. With our daughter, and I hope”—he paused for effect to illustrate the gravity of his meaning and stare into her eyes, smiling as he finished—“with you.”
Her face crumpled up in tears and she sniffled loudly. She glanced down and back up, nodding her head once. Then again. And again as she started crying harder. “I love you, Ben.” Her voice was soft and breathless.
He held her cheek in his palm and stared into her eyes. “I love you too.”
She grabbed his hand in hers and held it against the side of her face. She glanced down and bit her lip. Releasing his hand, he lifted it and placed his knuckle under her chin to raise her face to his. She let out a little laugh, almost a half cry, shaking her head. Their timing? Just nearly a dozen people and a toddler and two babies were sitting behind them. Who knew if they were listening or witnessing any of this? It seemed like such an impossibility after the journey they went through, to finally end up together here.
He threw his head back as his own eyes filled up with tears, enough to match hers, and they both smiled tremulous, watery smiles. She lifted her hands from his shoulders to his face and gripped both sides of it, bringing his mouth to hers. Their lips met in a wild, tight, closed–mouth kiss that felt like an exchange of pain and grief and joy and love. All the emotions that nearly drowned them both and nearly ruined them both had somehow rebuilt them both.
She pulled her mouth from his and threw herself against him again, clinging to him in ways she should have the first time they made love. Or if he stayed around when she found out she pregnant. Or when he came back. Or when their daughter smiled. Or when Jocelyn began to dance again. Or after he found a way to forgive himself as well as Marcy.
Someone must have noticed something because the room suddenly fell quiet. They separated and dropped their arms off each other, but kept their hands linked. He squeezed her fingers in his. They glanced at each other and smiled with almost shy, contrite expressions before Ben merely shrugged his shoulders. He heard a little giggle and knew it was Cami.
“Uh, want us to keep Lillian tonight?” Erin finally asked. When his gaze lifted to hers, she grinned wider. Her eyes were sparkling.
He glanced at Jocelyn. She grinned widely but shook her head no. He tugged on Jocelyn’s hand. “Nah. Thanks, we’re good,” he said as he leaned down and picked up Lillian, tucking her against his chest. She squirmed all around; her little neck was much stronger and her head bobbled around. She reached out her hand like a claw to grab his hair, squealing in delight when she accomplished it. He chuckled at her as he took Jocelyn’s hand and pulled her with him to leave.
They left the room and stared at each other. “You want to come home?”
“I want whatever you want.”
She nodded. “I want you to come home with me… with us. For good.”
He grinned back. “I can do that. I can finally do that, Jocelyn.”
Epilogue
“YO, BABY DADDY! HOW’S it hanging?”
Ben turned towards Tareq with Lillian in his arms. She was bigger now, and her head whipped around with his.
At three and a half years old, she smiled and reached out toward Tareq. “T! Hey. Can you take me backstage?”
Tareq patted Lillian’s head. “No, I wanna watch your mom’s show.” She stuck her tongue out and he laughed.
Ben rolled his eyes towards Tareq. “You know, you could just call me Ben.”
“I could. But what’s the fun in that? Your girl ready for this?”
“What do you think? She fretted all day and half the night. She’s convinced she should not be doing this.”
“That girl isn’t half as tough as her looks promise. She’s ready, all right.”
Ben nodded his agreement as they turned towards the stage. It was a large performing arts center that was attached to a community college in north Seattle. Tonight, Jocelyn’s dance class was performing a sold–out Halloween concert.
Amazingly, it was finally happening. In the beginning, Tareq charged Jocelyn for his time during the first six months she danced with him, but by the end of that year, they simply met whenever they could just to dance together. They fed off each other, both of them growing. Tareq was nagging Jocelyn to instruct a class for little kids between the ages of three to five. She resisted his suggestions over and over. After more than a year of dancing with Jocelyn, Tareq finally convinced her to start her own class.
“I’m not even trained. I can’t teach a class.”
Tareq just rolled his eyes. “It’s not public school. You don’t need a master’s degree to prove what you can do. All anyone has to do is watch you.”
Ben kept prodding her until she finally relented. She was so nervous at dealing with the preschoolers, he feared she might throw up at her first class. He went with her, and stayed outside the classroom for moral support. But come on. It was only a small group of three– to five–year–olds, preschoolers; how intimidating could they possibly be? Jocelyn claimed she wasn’t afraid of them, but their mothers. But Ben was in the hallway and he heard some of them praising it as Jocelyn was lining up the girls and beginning her class. Her quick, easy smile charmed the little girls and one boy, just as she charmed Lillian. Jocelyn was amazing with kids. She swiftly launched into a thirty–second dance sequence, showing off just a little bit. Right off, her audience must have thought she did have a master’s degree in dance, judging by their reaction.
So she agreed to start teaching. Mid–year, Tareq assembled an older recreational dance class of eleven– to fifteen–year–olds. As usual, Jocelyn said no initially, but finally gave in again once Tareq begged her for long enough.
“Girl, hip hop is the hottest thing nowadays. It’s gaining more and more acceptance as kids see it on all the reality shows and music videos. Now, it’s as accepted as any other form of dance. But there aren’t enough teachers, or people like you that are willing to spend time as instructors. And it doesn’t matter how you were trained or got to be that good: all that matters is you are. So embrace it.”
She started teaching the older kids after those words of persuasion. By days, she worked for the resort as soon as it reopened. Six months ago, the arena was finished and the restaurant moved to the second–floor mezzanine. It was now under her management entirely. But she reserved two nights a week and two hours on Saturday during which she taught dance classes at the studio. It made Ben’s heart swell every time he saw her dance. He was so glad she could share her love and talent of dance to inspire others. But he mostly felt a debt of gratitude to Tareq for having the tenacity and insistence to convince her to return to it. In no time, he could see the light it brought back to her eyes.
It took two years for Tareq to persuade Jocelyn to perform onstage with him. She had never done such a thing and nearly had a panic attack. But the entire place instantly erupted in cheers, whistles, and cat–calls for an encore. At first, the shows were performed for the dance studio’s parents and students. But eventually, they took the acts to Seattle, Tacoma, and nearby outlying areas for paid performances. The other venues were showcasing hip hop crews and teams of all ages, styles, levels, and numbers; from duos to trios and large group performances.
It didn’t pay well, of course, not any of it. But the joy Jocelyn received from it transformed her. And the reward Ben got from seeing Jocelyn doing something she loved was pure elation and awe.
Of course, little Lillian, Jocelyn’s daughter, could dance like no one’s business too. She followed her mother around, moving, grooving, popping, and locking with surprising speed, skills, and learning that rivaled Jocelyn’s. She was enrolled in Jocelyn’s three–year–old class, of course, but she could dance like the kids in the five– to eight–year–old class.
Jocelyn’s days of wearing the grunge and urban streetwear of the genre was reserved exclusively for dance classes and performances however.
But for their daughter? Jocelyn had a completely different standard. From the very first day of Lillian’s life, Jocelyn brushed Lillian’s barely–there hair. Now it was long, bright, and carrot–colored. Yeah, she got the Rydell genes in that department, but thankfully not the Rydell dancing genes. Jocelyn loved to comb their daughter’s long hair until it shone like a halo. She styled it in various versions of pigtails and braids, using bows, headbands, clips, and curlers. Lillian mostly wore little pink and purple dresses or girly versions of capris and shirts or shorts and jeans. Never did Jocelyn allow her to dress the way she herself had.
One day, Ben softly suggested, “You know, it’s not the worst thing if she prefers to dress like you. What if she doesn’t want to be girly–girl?”
“Well, of course, I won’t force her. I’d never try to make her be anything but who she really is.” Jocelyn frowned at him. Then her facial expression changed and almost tore out his heart. Thinking of Cutter Johnson and the mother who abandoned her, she added, “But if she would rather not be like me and chooses to be like most other little girls, her life will be so much easier and better.”
Ben got up and took Jocelyn in his arms, causing her to release Lillian’s hair from the braid she was working on. “Don’t forget: Annie has us. She won’t be judged by the way she chooses to dress. And she won’t feel alone and lost for being at the mercy of some old, pervert bastard. Nor will she ever be ridiculed or bullied by anyone. We won’t let that happen. Her childhood will always be one of love, growth, and adventure.”
Jocelyn surrendered to his embrace. Sometimes, it surprised Ben that she could be so clingy and vulnerable, while on the flipside, she had no problems handling guys like Tareq and the staff and crews. “I know. I just want so much more for her.”
He leaned back, kissing her forehead. “She already has more because she has you.”
“Us,” Jocelyn corrected him. She touched the side of his face with a tenderness that contrasted with her appearance. “She has us.”
Jocelyn stayed “normal looking” (as she called it) for about a year. After that, little changes began to appear. It started with small items. Different styles of clothes. Bigger earrings. Then no earrings. Different makeup. Then none. She started wearing the bandannas and hats sideways and backwards. Her real affinity, however, had always been changing her hair. It was shoulder–length by then, and smooth and quite pretty. She started by adding some red to it. From there, it went through several shades of brown and auburn before going back to blond and then to black and on it went. Ben came in from the fields one day and found her crying in front of the mirror.
“What’s wrong?”
Sobbing so hard she couldn’t talk, she pointed up at her head. “Look what I did,” she exclaimed before hanging her head down.
He slid his hand into her hair, pushing the silky strands aside and chuckled. She cut the hair at the bottom of her hairline close to her scalp. Why? He had no freaking idea. But he wasn’t alarmed, in fact, it almost encouraged him; maybe she was finding her old self again.
He merely kissed the top of her head and started to walk out of the room. “It’ll be a few inches long by year’s end.”
After he walked out, she called out after him, frustrated. “It will not!”
But of course, it did. She returned to wearing her hair in various degrees of short to suddenly growing it out, and trying a new color. The hairstyles were endless too. She refused to wear any of her piercings despite Ben’s frequent request for the tongue stud, which he was dying for her to put back in. But her prim sniff to that idea instantly shut him up.
“It was not for any man, Ben, it was for me. Let’s forget it.” He sighed, disappointed. But she did pierce new things. Things no one else but him could see and touch and experience. He liked those.
Almost as much as he liked the woman who felt the need to have them.
Ironically, Ben’s daughter was always the neatest, best–dressed, prim and proper young girl.
Except when she went out to the stables to ride the horses. Or played in the dirt from one of the fields. Or went off grooving her little tush like her mother.
Jack and Erin, along with her countless uncles and aunts, often took Lillian riding or allowed her to pet the horses. Uncle Charlie eventually came around and turned out to be her favorite. Zeroing in on Charlie when she was about eleven months old, she melted his heart and that was that. She followed him around and nearly bounced off her butt to get his attention. He couldn’t resist her, of course, and now the two were nearly inseparable. Their bond rivaled that of Ben and his own uncles.
Tonight was the first performance that Jocelyn had choreographed. She chose the most advanced dancers from their studio and devised a dance for them to perform as a duo. She was strung tightly as usual with anxiety and nerves. Backstage, Ben knew she worried that everything would crash and burn, and the crowd would boo her and accuse her of being a fraud, which she always worried she was.
But no. Cheers and applause had the crowd on its feet, stomping to the heavy music. Tareq slapped her back in congratulations, saying, “See you for practice on Tuesday, partner.”
“See you, Tuesday, partner,” Jocelyn answered, eyes shining with pride, her hair again short.
Jocelyn then rushed towards Ben, who held Lillian. She took Lillian in her arms and let Ben hug them both. They stood that way for a long moment before Ben slipped back so he could see her face and smiled gently. “So, how about we celebrate by getting married?”
Her smile faded. She licked her lips, glancing at Lillian fiddling with the edge of her favorite blanket. “What?”
He shrugged, putting his strong arms around her waist. “I know, it’s a weird place maybe. But it’s where you’re happiest. I like seeing you happy all the time. I don’t have to feel insecure about it either because you love River’s End too. And you love Lillian to death. And you also love me.”
Her eyes were wide, studying him. He took her hand in his and kissed the back of it. Then he slipped a ring onto her finger as he glanced at her. “I happen to love all those things too. And I would sincerely like to ask you to be my wife.”
Her eyes closed. His wife… He knew exactly what her brain was thinking. The wife he had before. The only woman who was briefly known as Ben’s wife: Marcy. The cruel taunts rarely happened anymore, but it was always something they expected. She stared down at the ring. It didn’t look anything like Marcy’s. It was something that actually fit Jocelyn’s personality: a thin platinum band with small diamonds in a row. Not too big or flashy or girly. Nor could it catch on anything while she was working or dancing.
“It’s time now, Jocelyn. It’s been more than long enough. This isn’t about Marcy or the fire or even Lillian. This is strictly about you and me. I love you. I want to share my life with you for as long as we live. Now do you want the same thing that I do?”
