A Child Of His Own, page 11
Dory began to grow nervous under Ben’s careful observations. With his astute perceptions, what else had he detected? Could he hear her rapidly beating heart? Did he know that inside she was shaking like a frightened fawn with fear that his questions would unearth memories that were better left buried?
“Why, yes, that’s true. I began working on the carousel last autumn. But I don’t see what that has to do with it.”
“Only that maybe you had a hard time getting going again. Maybe you didn’t want to do it at all. Maybe at times you still don’t.”
Dory was aghast at the accuracy of his suppositions. “Well, yes, sometimes that’s true. It’s been difficult, but not because—”
“You don’t have to explain to me,” he interrupted. “I’ve never lost anyone I loved, but then. I’ve never really loved anyone enough to feel that kind of loss.”
“It’s not that. It’s...it’s...” Dory struggled for the words to tell him that she never loved Eddie McBride, that she had never even known what love was until she found herself eager to see Ben’s handsome face each morning. Regardless of how badly he could hurt her, against her better judgment, and despite all her admonitions to herself, she was falling in love with him.
“You’re right,” she said. “I don’t have to explain to you. I seem to recall that you have an appointment with a sander and a buffer. You’ll find them in the shed.”
He didn’t mind the abrupt way in which she dropped the subject. He could tell that his probing had upset her, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.
They were both grateful when the noise of the sander made conversation between them impossible without having to yell to be heard above it.
An hour later they broke for lunch, and as they sat at the kitchen table eating, each was content to let Martin chat away with news of what this neighbor or that was up to. After that, it was back to work, until Jason came home, and then everything changed, the way it usually did whenever any rambunctious child appeared on the scene.
It wasn’t until after the polite conversation at the dinner table later that night, and a round of gentle coaxing to get Jason to take his bath, that Dory had some quiet time alone. With Martin outside on the porch smoking his pipe, and Ben and Jason upstairs in Ben’s room building the model plane, she was suddenly faced with so much silence.
Within that silence Dory’s thoughts swirled round and round. She felt like Dorothy in the tornado, swept up and away on a dangerous wind, only to be plunked down who knew where. In some colorful, faraway dreamland, where Ben loved her for herself, and where Jason had a father and she had a husband? Or in the middle of some land of nightmares, where the past’s dark demons were there to haunt her?
Ben’s mild probing that afternoon had left her feeling shaken. She had done her best to keep those memories under lock and key. But he, with his dark eyes always hot and intent upon her, allowing her no escape, his voice gently demanding, had brought them all surging to the surface.
Later that night they pursued her into her dreams.
She was in the carousel and it was in motion, the horses moving up and down and swiftly past her as she ran between them. She was breathing hard, and the cold fingers of fear clutched at her chest. Turning over her shoulder, she screamed to see Eddie running after her.
In her frenzy to get away from him, the terror that gripped her in slumber was as real as it had been that night. The cold grip of his fingers was as painful now as then. As before, the crack of his open palm stung more deeply within than upon the surface of her cheek. In the chaos of the dream she saw all about her the color orange, so bright and terrible that she had to shut her eyes tight against it. There was a crackling sound all around her, and a heat so intense it felt like it was sucking the oxygen right out of her lungs. Somewhere in the distance she thought she heard a baby crying.
Then, in the nonsensical manner of dreams, the scene suddenly shifted, and she saw Jason’s smiling, angelic face in close-up. As the picture widened, she could see his hands. Each was held in the hand of an adult as he walked between them.
It was her and Ben, walking with Jason between them. There was something sweet and natural about it, lulling her into a sense of security that proved to be all too false when she looked again at Jason and saw that his face was screwed up in pain and that he was in tears.
With a cry, she realized that she and Ben had begun to pull on Jason’s hands in opposite directions, each attempting to pull him away from the other. Back and forth, back and forth they pulled, heedless of his fears in their own bitter purposes. No! You can’t have my son! she cried in anguish. But he’s mine, too! came the angry and fiercely emotional reply. And all the while, Jason’s voice, crying in the background, “Please don’t, Mommy.”
Coated in perspiration, Dory awoke with a start. Seeking only to run from the bad dream, she flung the covers aside and jumped out of bed. In her bare feet she fled from her room and the house, mindless of the twigs and pebbles that stung underfoot, and of the cold night breeze that twisted the hem of her sheer white cotton nightgown around her legs, making her stumble and almost fall as she ran.
Chapter 10
The transluscent light of the moon fell in graduated planes through the venetian blinds and across Ben’s naked torso as he stood at the window staring out at the night.
Whoever would have guessed only a few short weeks ago the desperate turn his life would take when he stepped off the beaten path and stumbled onto this place hidden amongst the maples and the oaks? If anyone had told him that he would find his son and a ready-made family at the same time, he would have laughed bitterly in their face.
When he had begun his odyssey, he had never even contemplated the reality of being a father. Tonight, as he breathed the springtime air deeply into his lungs, he faced the prospect with hesitation. He’d never been a part of a family before. He didn’t know if he was up to it, or if he even knew how.
He shivered, partly with uncertainty, partly at the feel of the cool Catskill air against his naked flesh. He was about to close the window when he spotted something in the distance.
A pale, ghostly image flitted through the woods. The iridescent moonlight lathered her hair, and the long, lithe outline of her legs was visible beneath the sheer white fabric of her gown. Something tightened predictably inside him. He should have been used to it, but he wasn’t.
He figured she was on her way to the carousel. Often, when he was unable to sleep, like tonight, he stood for long silent stretches of time at the window. Several times he’d seen her leave the house and head for the carousel. He would watch, straining his eyes to see against the darkness. Only when he saw the light of the lantern come on and cast a soft orange glow over the surroundings did he feel comfortable enough to get some sleep.
There was something sure and safe in knowing she was out there working on her beloved horses that put his own tortured mind to rest. She was like an anchor, holding him steadfastly in this world when he sometimes felt like he was about to careen out of control.
He watched, and he waited, but no light came on. Something was wrong. He sensed it. He knew it. Turning from the window, he slipped into his jeans and nothing else, and followed her from the house.
He found her standing before the carousel in her nightgown and bare feet. There were tears in her eyes and she was trembling.
A twig snapped under foot, signaling his presence, but she already knew he was there from the scent of him carried on currents of cool night air. She’d know anywhere that unique combination of male musk and the faint, lingering traces of aftershave, creating that sexy, intoxicating ambrosia that was all his own. At any other time her knees would have gone weak at the first hint of it. Tonight, however, it frightened her. His mere presence, in fact, terrified her.
She didn’t want him to see her like that, vulnerable, fragile, and all too human beneath the crushing weight of her memories. She had to appear strong and resilient, if not for her sake, then for Jason’s.
He was standing behind her, so close that she could feel the heat seeping through his flesh, igniting the air between them. Softly he uttered her name. Her flesh jumped at the touch of his hand on her shoulder as he gently but firmly turned her around.
There was no use trying to hide the tears that brightened her eyes and glistened like dewdrops on her cheeks. Squaring her shoulders, she looked up into his questioning eyes. Through the darkness she could see his concern written all over his face.
His concern was shocking, particularly since it was on his account that she was in this torment. His questions about the fire and her marriage to Eddie had unlocked a door she thought she had closed a long time ago, allowing a wave of painful memories to flood back. She thought she had learned to live her life around them, but suddenly, there they were, all converging to form a solid brick wall around which there was no escape. And it was all his fault.
Feeling belligerent and confused, Dory said, “Don’t you ever have the need to be alone?”
Ben dropped his hand to his side, stung by the harshness in her tone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I saw you leave the house, and when I didn’t see a light come on, I got worried.”
“You needn’t worry about me,” she said. “I’m perfectly all right.”
“Is that why you’re crying? Because you’re all right?”
Her green eyes flared at him, angry and pleading. “Haven’t you done enough? Can’t you ever just let anything be?”
“I just wanted you to know that I didn’t mean to open up a whole can of worms for you this afternoon.”
Oh God, she groaned to herself, he was doing it again. Yet she clung stubbornly to her defenses. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Eddie. The fire,” he said matter-of-factly. “It seems that whenever one or the other is mentioned, you close up tighter than a clam. You know, Dory, sometimes it’s easier to deal with something when you face it head on.”
Like the way he was facing the prospect of fatherhood? he thought with self-contempt. That was a laugh, him giving her advice that he wasn’t capable of taking himself. Still, it was always easier to solve somebody else’s problems than it was to solve one’s own, and he of all people knew what it was like to do battle with demons.
“If you ever feel like talking about it—”
Dory laughed nervously. “About what? Really, Ben, you’re imagining things.”
His hand came up before her face. “Am I imagining this?” With the tip of his finger he wiped away the solitary tear that still glistened on her cheek.
Dory jerked her head away. “What do you expect? You barge uninvited into my life, making outrageous claims, threatening to destroy my family. Did you think I would take all that lightly, Ben? I’m not made out of wood, you know.”
He spoke in a soothing tone, hoping to calm the hysteria he heard growing in her voice. “No, you’re not made out of wood. You’re flesh and bone and blood, just like the rest of us. In short, Dory, you’re human. It’s not this thing about Jason that you’re crying over. It’s something else. I’ve seen you when you’re defending what’s yours. You’re a gutsy fighter. But this is different. You’re scared, Dory. I’m not made out of wood, either. I’ve been there enough times myself to recognize it in you, so don’t go through the trouble of pretending on my account.”
The first day they met she had felt an uncanny sensation that perhaps he understood what it was like to cling to hope. Yet now, several weeks later, with so much unresolved between them, she resented his ability to see past her lies and half-truths. He was leaving her no place to hide from his questioning. With his gentle probings, and not-so-gentle observations, he was forcing her into a corner. There was no escape, except to give him what he wanted, and that was the truth, no matter how painful it was for her to reveal, nor how terrible it might be for him to hear.
No matter what the outcome was of this thing with Jason, Dory knew that her future would always be haunted by the dark memories if she did not face them. Her voice, when she spoke, scratched painfully at the back of her throat. “You’re right. This is different. This has nothing to do with you.”
She sat down on the edge of the carousel and was silent for many long minutes as she drew in several deep, supportive breaths. She spoke with a hint of resignation in her tone, as if she had somehow known all along that she would eventually tell him. The words came haltingly at first.
“Being away at college was exciting, but I was eager to graduate and come back here. For me, this place is like no other.” She gave a little shrug and explained simply. “It’s home. Eddie and I had dated before I went away, and we wrote to each other. He was from around here. He was a part of all that was familiar to me. A part of what I had missed so much when I was away. I married him soon after I came home.”
She paused to reflect on those early days with a certain fondness, and said with a half smile, “When you’re young and think you’re in love, you never imagine that things can change. But they can.” The smile vanished from her face. “And they did.”
Ben sat down beside her. Wrapped up in her torment, Dory hadn’t even realized that he wasn’t wearing a shirt, until his naked arm touched her naked arm, igniting a spark within her even now as she struggled with the words.
“I knew Eddie wasn’t really into running the Dutch Mill, but to his credit, at least he gave it a try. Things were okay that first year, but Eddie was the restless sort, always looking for something better around the next corner. Eventually, he grew bored with the Dutch Mill. He tried his hand at a few things, but nothing ever panned out. He used to say that he needed something to take his mind off his problems. We’d been trying to have a baby without any success, so I suggested that we adopt one. Eddie liked the idea. When we got Jason, he seemed happy at last. But then things began to change. Soon he got bored even with that.” She paused, and her voice grew dim with remembering when she added, “Around that time he started drinking.”
Ben wished there was something he could do to banish the pain he heard in Dory’s voice and wipe away the tears that began to spill anew from her eyes. But he knew from his own desperate soul-searching that there was nothing to be done. It was like cleansing a wound. The soap and water burned and the iodine stung like crazy, but it was all necessary if there was to be any healing. All he could do was sit there, his arm barely touching hers, letting her know by his presence that she was not alone.
She went in the same softly aching voice.
“His drinking got worse. He lost one job after another because of it.” She swallowed hard and said, “He became abusive, not just verbally, but...”
She couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud, but she knew when she felt the sudden tensing of his muscles beside her that she didn’t have to.
“Why didn’t you leave him?” he asked.
“I tried. Twice.”
“What happened?”
“The first time I went back when he swore it would never happen again.”
She searched his face through the darkness, hoping that he understood and wouldn’t judge her too harshly for a wrong decision. “There was Jason to think of,” she explained. “I wanted my son to have a father. I wanted to make it work, to believe not just in Eddie’s promises, but in my own judgments. I guess I just couldn’t admit that I’d made a horrendous mistake. I did marry the man, after all.” She gave a sad little laugh, and said, “It’s funny how sometimes you think you know someone and you don’t know them at all.”
“You said you tried to leave him twice. What happened the second time?”
There it was, the connecting thread that led her from one dark memory to another. Pulling in a ragged breath, she steeled herself for the onrush of deepening emotions.
“One night he threatened Martin. It was the last straw. I told him to leave. We had a terrible argument over it. In the midst of it I picked up my lantern and went out to the carousel. Usually, he didn’t follow me there. That night he did.”
Her hands wrung nervously in her lap and the words rolled from her like snowballs down a mountainside, gathering momentum, hurling her back in time to the terror of that night.
In a panic, she said, “He’d been drinking. He threatened to kill me if I tried to throw him out. All of a sudden his hands were around my throat. I managed to get away from him and started to run, but he caught up with me.” Her hand flew to her cheek to soothe the imaginary throb of his vicious slap. “In the struggle the kerosene lantern must have been knocked over. In a matter of seconds the carousel was in flames. Somehow, I made it away in time.”
She was unaware of the warm, wet tears that spilled unchecked from her eyes onto her cheeks. Her body shook with sobs as she told him, “The coroner said Eddie was unconscious when he died. He must have slipped and struck his head on one of the mahogany horses.”
Understanding, finally, the cause of her deeply rooted sadness made Ben want to protect her even more. Instinctively, he wound his arm around her shoulders. Feeling no resistance, he drew her close to him, giving her the gift of his physical strength to draw on if she wanted it. His voice was a whisper, but it carried his own fierce belief in what he said.
“We all have scars to bear, in one way or another. You never really forget. The trick is learning to live with it.”
Dory turned a stricken gaze on him. “You don’t understand. When Eddie died, the first thing I felt wasn’t grief. That came later. It was relief. How do you learn to live with that?”
Ben tried to maintain his calm while grappling with the impact of her story. “But at least he would never hurt you again. And Martin and Jason were safe.”
“Yes, but I can’t help but think that if only I had tried harder to be more, I don’t know, more...”
“What?” he gently demanded. “Loving? Giving? Hell, Dory, you’re just about the most loving and giving person I’ve ever known. The guy must have been crazy not to see it.”
