A Child Of His Own, page 5
The edge of the bed sagged from Ben’s weight when he sat down on it, and said, “Okay, this one’s about a cat named Priscilla and a rabbit named Bunky who live in the back of a little country restaurant.”
It was the very pair he had spied one day while eating breakfast at one of the inns he had stopped at along the road. The owner had scooted them away with a broom, calling them by their names as they took cover. Funny, how the memory came back to him like that, as if it had been lurking in his subconscious for weeks, waiting for just the right occasion to make an appearance. And judging from the smile on Jason’s face, the timing couldn’t have been better.
Making up a story about a rabbit and a cat wasn’t so difficult after all. The adventures he sent them on delighted not only Jason, who listened raptly between yawns, but himself as well, for his newly found flair for telling bedtime stories.
Martin came in to say good-night and stayed for a while to listen to the story.
When Jason was sound asleep, they tiptoed from the room.
“Good job,” Martin whispered. He left Jason’s door slightly open to a sliver of light from the hallway, explaining as they walked toward the stairs, “Sometimes he’s afraid of the dark.”
“I know,” said Ben.
Martin look at him questioningly.
“What I mean is...” He realized too late how his impulsive remark must have sounded. How could he explain the similarities he saw between Jason and himself without arousing the old man’s suspicion? “I was like that too as a kid.” He laughed nervously. “Most kids are afraid of the dark, aren’t they?”
“I suppose. Although Dory wasn’t. As a kid, she wasn’t afraid of anything. I’d catch her sometimes climbing out of her bedroom window, using the wisteria vine like she was the queen of the jungle. Or swimming in the creek, holding her breath longer than any of the other kids, staying under until she had you wading frantically out there after her, only to pop up laughing hysterically. Do you know, one time she even backed down a bulldog? Fearless, she was. And then...” His words trailed off into silence. When he spoke again, it was in a voice dim with regret. “She grew up, I guess.”
Downstairs, Martin pulled a white crocheted sweater from the hall closet. “She’s out there working. I was going to bring her this, but there’s a show I want to catch on the TV. Would you mind doing it for me?”
Moonlight fell in patches through the branches of the trees as Ben made his way down the narrow path that led to the carousel. He could see her shadow moving against the tarpaulin that glowed in the darkness.
Habit had made Dory pick the safest spot to place the lantern, where it was not likely to fall over and cause history to painfully repeat itself.
Tonight as she worked among the horses by lanternlight, she felt none of the remorse that generally accompanied her silent hours of solitude. Her heart felt surprisingly lighter than it had in a long time, as if there were no memories to weigh it down. She was even amused to hear herself humming a little tune in time to the confident strokes of the paintbrush.
She told herself she was happy because her work on the carousel was coming along so well, but in her heart she knew it was because of a pair of dark eyes, a smile that threatened to melt even her fearful heart, and a masculine nature that was strong enough to be tender to a child.
The sound of her name called quietly against the night, silenced her humming and stilled her movements for several moments, before she rose gracefully.
She swept aside a corner of the tarpaulin and stood on the edge of the carousel, gazing out at him.
“I just wanted you to know that he’s asleep,” he said.
Dory was grateful for the darkness that concealed the blush of embarrassment on her cheeks at having been caught thinking about him.
“Thank you. That was a nice thing you did.”
“It was my pleasure.” And his pain, he added silently. “Martin asked me to bring you this. Is there anything else I can do for you before I go in?”
She said nothing to him about it being her good sweater, one that Martin knew very well she would never wear while working on the carousel. She reached down and took it from his outstretched hand.
“No. I’m finished here for tonight. But if you wait, I’ll put the lantern out and walk back with you.”
While Dory finished up, Ben waited patiently outside, listening to the crickets chirping beneath leaves. He was curious about what she did in there hour upon hour, but three long years in prison had taught him to value his own privacy above all else, and he wouldn’t invade hers. He didn’t know the cause of her sadness, either, or why she felt compelled to keep him at such a distance. He knew only that, little by little, he found himself wanting her.
The light inside the carousel went out, plunging the surroundings into blackness.
“I’ll leave the lantern here,” said Dory. “We can see our way back by moonlight.”
In the darkness of the carousel, however, she did not see the tarpaulin gathered around her foot. She knew she was caught in it only when she attempted to step forward and felt herself falling.
She gave a small cry as her arms flew out to her sides for balance. If Ben hadn’t reacted in a heartbeat, she would have fallen off the carousel right onto her face. As it was, she fell forward straight into his arms, hard up against his chest.
The breath went out of him when he caught her, not from the impact of her fall, but from the effect of having her suddenly so close. Later there would be time for reproaches. For now, there was only the urgent awareness of having her in his arms, of looking into her eyes for several stunned moments, of feeling the warmth of her body against him.
In the deep green depths of her eyes he thought he saw her beckon. His logic drowned in a sea of emotion as his arms tightened around her and his lips came down over hers.
His kiss was soft and tentative, lips moving over hers, exploring the texture and the taste of her. A distant part of him remembered what it was like to kiss a woman, even though he knew it had never been like this, so tender and achingly necessary.
Her soft tongue met his halfway in a discovery that left him breathless. Its tentative probing left little doubt that she was as scared as he was.
Dory moved instinctively into Ben’s embrace. It had been such a long time since she’d been held in a man’s arms. Such a long time since she’d been kissed. And never like this, with such hunger and regret. But the regret was as much hers as it was his. How could she let this happen? Shocked at the ease with which she had succumbed to her own desire to be kissed, she pushed herself away from him.
There was an expression of relief on his handsome face when he released her and stepped back.
“Dory, I—”
She put her hand up to staunch whatever apology he was about to make. It was bad enough that she had gone against her own better judgment for one precarious moment. Did she have to hear him apologize for going against his? She hurried off down the path, leaving him standing in the mottled moonlight.
Ben told himself that he had reacted the way any man would if a beautiful woman fell into his arms. In fact, it wasn’t even his own reaction that surprised him the most. It was Dory’s. Was it his imagination, or had she actually pressed herself closer to him? He hadn’t expected her to kiss him back, but she had, and every fiber of his being told him she had liked it as much as he had.
But it was more than just a kiss between strangers beside a carousel that satisfied some foolish longing inside of him. It was about how she had stirred his coffee to the desired sweetness earlier. It was about possibly having found his son and being, temporarily at least, a part of Dory’s family. Even though he had to admit he liked being the man around the house, he’d be a fool to think it went any further than sharing their home for the time being.
Now, having kissed her, he wasn’t sure if it would be harder for him to tell her about Jason, or easier. Had he ruined his chances of getting his son back, or was the way now clear? He needed time, not just to get to know Jason better, but to get to know Dory, to see if it was possible to win her over to his side so that she would help him uncover the truth of whether or not he was Jason’s father.
The uncertainty of it followed him even into his dreams, as he tossed and turned later that night, unable to find solace in slumber.
Just down the hallway, Dory, too, was having trouble sleeping, plagued by the thought of Ben’s kiss and the eagerness with which she had responded to it.
She must have dozed off, and had no idea how long she’d been asleep when she awoke with a start. The sheet was twisted about her slender legs and her skin was dotted with perspiration, yet it wasn’t a fitful dream that had awakened her. She lay there for several moments, listening to the silence of the night. Outside everything was still. No breeze blew. Not even a cricket chirped.
She turned her head on the pillow and sought out the clock on the night table beside the bed. The LED display glowed like a tiny read beacon through the darkness. It read one-thirty. She closed her eyes and tried to slip back into sleep, when she heard a sound that made every nerve in her body snap to attention.
With a start she realized it had been Jason, crying out in the dead of the night, that had awakened her. She was in motion even as the realization took shape in her brain.
In her bare feet she hurried down the hall toward Jason’s room.
She routinely left Jason’s bedroom door ajar so that the soft yellow glow of the hall light that she left on for him each night would provide enough gentle illumination to ease his fear of the dark. The first thing she noticed, however, was that the door was fully open, pushed back up against the wall as if someone had done it in a hurry.
Martin, she thought. But that wasn’t Martin’s shadowy figure hovering over Jason’s bed. It was Ben who had gotten there before her.
For several seconds she stood frozen in the doorway. Her first impulse was to rush in to protect her son, but the deep cadence of Ben’s voice told her that there was no threat to Jason from him.
“The closet. The closet.”
Jason’s little voice called anxiously from beneath the sheet that was pulled up to just below a pair of frightened eyes.
Ben went to the closet, stood before the door, and said threateningly, “Okay, you monsters, if you’re in there, you’d better get out now.”
He grasped the knob and yanked the closet door open. When the supposed monsters didn’t jump out, he poked his head inside and looked all around. “Nope,” he concluded, “no monsters in here.”
“Under the bed,” Jason cried. “Check under the bed.”
Ben got down on his hands and knees and peered into the darkness under the child’s bed. “No monsters here, either.”
“M-maybe they jumped out the window.”
“Tell you what,” Ben said as he strode to the window. “Why don’t I close this for tonight?” It was worth it, he reasoned, to sacrifice a little fresh air in order to soothe the kid’s fears.
“I checked everywhere. I guess you’re right. They must have slipped out through the window.”
“Did you lock it tight?” the little voice inquired.
“Don’t worry. They won’t be back. Do you think you can get some sleep now?”
Slowly, the sheet came back down and settled beneath Jason’s chin. “I guess so.”
“Okay, cowboy, why don’t you close your eyes and give it a try.”
The boy’s eyes closed obediently.
Ben remained at the side of the bed looking down at the face which only minutes ago had been wide-eyed with fright. It wasn’t until he heard the child’s steady breathing and knew he was sleeping that he stepped away from the bed.
He met Dory outside in the hallway. There was a strange look on her face.
In a hushed voice so as not to awaken the child, he said quickly, “I hope you don’t mind. I heard him cry out and I thought...I didn’t mean to interfere.”
He was barechested and barefooted, dressed only in his jeans, which he had obviously pulled on in a hurry without bothering to zip them. A line of softly curled dark hair ran down his belly and disappeared into the vee formed by the open zipper. With the heat of his kiss still fresh in her mind, it was the last thing Dory needed to see.
She wasn’t thinking of the sight she presented to him, dressed only in a sheer white nightgown, her exposed flesh looking translucent in the glow of the night-light outside Jason’s room, until she saw his gaze drop, and felt suddenly naked beneath his stare.
She used the opportunity of the sleeping child to keep her voice to a whisper, hiding her nervousness. “That’s all right. I saw what you did, and I’m grateful to you for it.”
They turned and started back down the hallway toward their rooms.
“I hope I did okay in there,” said Ben. “I’m new at that sort of thing.”
“You did just fine,” she assured him.
“Is that what you do? Check the closets and under the bed?”
“I usually just try to soothe him and coax him back to sleep by reassuring him that the monsters aren’t real.”
“Oh, great,” he responded with a groan. “And I told him they escaped through the window.”
“That’s okay. Really. I was surprised that he fell back to sleep so easily. It usually takes me a while to convince him that he’s safe. It makes perfect sense. Those monsters are real to him. By acknowledging them and locking the window so they can’t get back in, you gave him something he can deal with. That’s why he so readily believed you when you told him they were gone.”
Half to himself, he said, “If only we could make our own monsters disappear so easily.”
Dory looked up at him, her eyes widening with surprise. It was as if he had found a way into her thoughts and read each one.
“The trick,” she said, “is learning to live with them.”
“Is that what you do?” he asked. He didn’t know what demons haunted Dory, but he had sensed their presence since the moment he met her.
She lifted her bare shoulders in a little shrug, and said, “I try.”
“What is it that causes you to try so hard?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Only to someone else who’s trying just as hard.”
She hadn’t answered his question, but as far as he was concerned, that was all right. For in acknowledging that she tried to live with her demons, she had given him the first indication that there was a reason for the sadness he saw in her eyes. It made him feel just a little bit closer to her.
At the door to her room Dory paused to look at him. “Thanks, Ben. I appreciate what you did.” She regarded him thoughtfully for a moment. “You’d make a good father.” She closed the door softly behind her, with a whispered “good night.”
Father. The emotional impact of that word rooted Ben to his spot. He had begun his quest to find his son, without ever really thinking about what it meant emotionally to be a father. He’d thought of the things they would do together, like playing catch and building model airplanes. He’d imagined the talks they might one day have, of girls and cars and baseball’s current MVP. But he had never considered the feelings that would come with parenthood, until he watched Dory and Jason together, and saw their openness toward one another, and realized that in order to be a father, he would have to open himself up, and risk being hurt, much more than he wanted to.
He started back to his room, not knowing what he was getting himself into, feeling strangely hopeful, and yet, at the same time, wondering if he had a right to feel any hope at all.
Chapter 5
Dory carefully removed the strips of bacon sizzling in the pan and laid them out on a paper towel.
“I told you,” she said gently from over her shoulder, “you can’t go with me and Ben on Saturday because you’ll be at Billy’s birthday party.”
Jason was seated at the kitchen table, frowning into his bowl of cereal. “But I don’t want to go to Billy’s stupid birthday party.”
“I’ll bet you won’t think it’s so stupid once you’re there.”
“I know, but—”
“And besides, you know that long rides make you carsick.”
But not even the prospect of stopping several times along the way to be sick could deter a little boy whose mind was made up.
“I won’t get sick this time, Mommy, I promise.”
Dory looked over her shoulder at her son, and questioned, “Why this sudden interest in coming with me?”
His small shoulders lifted with an exaggerated gesture.
“Oh, but I think you do know,” she countered. “Can it have anything to do with Ben?” She had not failed to notice the way he raced to wherever Ben happened to be each day after Martin picked him up from day care. She had her answer when his face broke into a grin so precious it stole her heart away. “You like Ben, don’t you?”
“He’s letting me help build the plane,” he said proudly.
“Is that the only reason you like him?”
Jason screwed up his face in thought. “He lets me use the hammer, and the screwdriver, too. And yesterday he put me up on his shoulders and I could see real far.”
Thinking back, Dory could not remember a single time she had seen Eddie lift Jason onto his shoulders. And Martin’s arthritis wouldn’t allow it. Surprisingly, it was the first time Jason had ridden on a man’s shoulders. How many other things, she wondered sadly, was her son deprived of because she hadn’t been able to make a go of her marriage?
Feeling the old, familiar sting of blame, she placed two slices of bread in the toaster and said, “I’m glad you like Ben.”
“Do you, Mommy? Do you like Ben, too?”
The question took Dory by surprise, not so much because it was a difficult question to answer, but because she didn’t know the answer. How could she explain sexual attraction to a not-quite-five-year-old? He was far too young to understand the fear she had of getting involved, when in his own innocent enthusiasm, he wanted nothing more than to dive in deeper.
