A Child Of His Own, page 9
For Ben, there was something strangely comforting in the small-town familiarity that she spoke of. Something that had been lacking in his own life for longer than he cared to admit. He couldn’t remember when something as simple as a friendly wave had stirred as much warmth and caring in him as he felt right now.
He glanced over at Dory and studied her profile etched against the green panorama outside the driver’s side window. She was a product of this environment, a reflection of its quietly stirring beauty. He felt himself moved as much by her surroundings as he was by her. The two, he realized, were inseparable.
A subtle shift in the air brought with it the scent of damp earth. The area they drove through now was cleft with dark, spooky ravines, where solitary bypaths led into the darkness beneath overhung trees, and signposts were painted with the diabolical-sounding names of places like Devil’s Kitchen and Hell Hole.
Dory drove to a spot that was overgrown with foliage and shut off the engine. “Come on,” she said, as she opened the door and got out of the car. “There’s something I want you to see.”
Together they hiked up the clove to the top, where a waterfall spilled a thin ribbon of water down a rocky ledge, over boulders and into the dark shade below.
“It’s called Kaaterskill Falls,” she said. Her cheeks were reddened by the climb and by the nip in the air that was noticeably cooler. “It’s not exactly Niagara, but it’s one of the highest in New York.”
There were other waterfalls that were more dynamic, more showy, more overtly beautiful. But there was something darkly thrilling about this place. It was the same kind of thrill Ben derived from standing so close to Dory that he could smell the wildflower scent of her hair. It was the deep, driving need he had to reach out and grab a piece of it for himself, with no reproaches from anyone, least of all from himself.
“I’ve seen Niagara,” he said, “It’s volume and not much else.”
“They say that Rip van Winkle took his legendary nap not far from here.”
Her voice was deceptively calm, sounding as if she didn’t have a care in the world. But Ben knew better. He turned to look at her. The ends of her hair blew up in the breeze, one chestnut strand slicing across her face. Absently, she reached up to brush it away. The unhurried motion produced a predictable effect in him. The cotton T-shirt she was wearing was matted to her flesh in places from their hike to the falls, drawing his eyes like magnets.
If she knew how long it had been since he was with a woman, she would have known how crazy it was to have brought him up there. Didn’t she know that one step in her direction and all his fantasies about her would become reality? Was she aware of how desperately he wanted her? Did she want him, too? Was that her purpose in leading him to this spot?
Bluntly, he asked, “Why did you bring me here?”
The sunlight was mottled beneath the trees. It was a dark and spooky place, befitting Dory’s own dark and fearful thoughts. It seemed an appropriate place to broach an unpleasant subject and shatter the tentative peace they had adopted.
“I want you to know what you’ll be taking away from Jason if you take him away from here...from me.”
Ben closed his eyes in reaction to the answer he had not expected. Was there no place they could go where that shadow did not follow them? Was there nothing they could talk about that did not worsen the pain of this thing that was pulling them closer together even as it tore them apart?
“This place is as much a part of him as it is of me,” she said. “That thing you spoke about earlier, that was missing from your life before, I want that to be a part of Jason’s life. I want him to know how special something as simple as a friendly smile can be. I want him to feel in his heart a genuine love for his neighbors and the kind of compassion that saw me through the rough times.”
“You think I can’t teach him those things?”
“Those things aren’t taught,” she said. “You grow up with them all around you and you absorb them into your being like a plant absorbs the sunlight. It becomes as much a part of you as the air you breathe. I don’t know anything about you. Where you’re from or how you grew up. How do I know you value the same things I’m trying to teach Jason to value? I just can’t help but wonder what you’re used to if you’re so surprised by what you see around you.”
In a staccato voice, he explained, “I was an architect for many years. I lived and worked in Manhattan. I made a lot of money. Needless to say, that kind of life is very different from this. But I grew up with a mother and a father. I know what love is, and they taught me some pretty good values.”
That explained the precision she had observed when watching him build the plane, and the inherent decency in his nature. Yet it also left a myriad of other things unanswered, like why he had given up a lucrative career for the life of a drifter who performed odd jobs for a few dollars. There were only two things she knew of that could change a man so radically. One was love. The other was sorrow.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to imply that you have no values.”
“I don’t want anything for Jason that isn’t what you want for him.”
“That still doesn’t tell me what you do want.”
“Only to be a part of his life if he is my son.”
Dory studied him for several moments in the sunlight that slanted through the trees. His dark hair was in need of a trim. Almost brushing the collar of his leather jacket, it was appealing in a careless sort of way. There was not a trace of the five-o’clock shadow that would appear later in the day to lend a rugged quality to his face. For now, it was clean shaven and smooth skinned and unbearably handsome in the softly shifting light from above.
Nevertheless, Dory had to be sure, not just of what he wanted, but of the way he went about achieving it. She couldn’t help but wonder about the kiss by the carousel, and whether it been as impulsive as it seemed at the time, or if it had been carefully planned to weaken her resistance and make his entry into their lives that much easier. Her green eyes narrowed upon his face. “Is that all you want?”
And you. I want you. More than I’ve ever wanted any woman in my life. But the words remained on the tip of his tongue like bitter little pills, and instead he replied, “Of course, that’s all. What else would I want?”
A part of Dory felt the sting of disappointment even as she breathed an inward sigh of relief. She lowered her lashes under his hot gaze, and turning away, said, “I think we should go back down.”
On the road again, an uneasy silence sat between them like an unwanted hitchhiker. With the serenity of the day shattered by the painful subject, Ben sat with his face turned to the window, deep in thought, while Dory drove with her eyes fixed on the road. A short while later they drove into Devil’s Corner.
Dory parked the car in front of a shop on Main Street. A sign in the window read simply Antiques.
“This looks like the place,” Ben said dryly. He shot a quick look over at Dory to see her reaction as they entered the shop.
But Dory was oblivious to the mild sarcasm. She wasn’t thinking about him at all, in fact. The instant she entered the shop and spotted the carousel horse, she forgot about everything else.
Before her stood two hundred board feet of wood weighing nearly four hundred pounds. Its paint was cracked and peeling. The carved plume on its headstall had been broken off. Both its glass eyes were missing. The color of its flanks was obscured by layers of dirt and grease. The once jewel-studded harness had gaping holes where the stones had been dug out. There were scrapes and nicks and gouges everywhere.
All in all it was the sorriest looking creature Ben had ever seen. Standing beside Dory, he exclaimed, “What a mess.”
Dory glanced around and spotted the proprietor talking with a customer by the cash register. Turning back to Ben there was an unmistakable hint of excitement in her tone when she breathed, “It’s gorgeous!”
“Are you kidding?”
“It’s an old one. My guess is from the turn of the century. That means it had to have been made by one of the master carvers, like Carmel or Muller or Dentzel. Look at that, and that, and that.” She pointed in succession to the massive head and arched neck, to the mane and to the body. “They were each carved out of one large block of wood, not with machines or power tools, but a hand-sharpened chisel and a wooden mallet. I’ll bet the sanding took forever.”
She walked slowly around the horse to inspect it, trying to impart a sense of indifference to the shop owner who glanced over at them every now and then. Inside, her heart was racing.
As she ran her hands lovingly over the scarred withers, she explained in a hushed voice, “There are three poses for carousel horses. Jumpers have all four feet crooked and are attached to the middle poles that go up and down. Prancers have their hooves flashing before them. Standing horses like this big guy are found on the outside row of the carousel. They’re usually the most ornate. I’ll bet at one time he was a real beauty.”
“Is that what you need? A standing horse for the outside row?”
She smiled at him from across the faded and chipped wooden figure, and whispered, “It’s exactly what I need.”
“Can you afford it?”
“If he knows what he’s got, no. If he wants to sell what he thinks is just some beat-up old carousel horse, maybe. I’m about to find out.” She turned to go in search of the proprietor.
“Hey,” Ben whispered.
When she turned back around, she couldn’t help but smile at the thumbs-up sign he gave her, accompanied by a wink for good luck.
From where he stood, it was impossible for Ben to tell by watching Dory if she was making any headway with the shop owner. Even under pressure, she was a study in serenity, her movements graceful, her voice soft. Unless, he knew, it had to do with her child, and then she was as formidable as a grizzly bear protecting her cub. He had to admit he admired her for it.
When she returned, he asked eagerly, “How’d it go?”
“It’s more than I want to spend.”
The smile faded from his face. “Gee, Dory, I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could do.”
“There is. Mr. Evers says there’s a truck rental place not far from here. You can drive over there with me, and then load this baby into the truck.”
“I thought you couldn’t afford it.”
“It may be more than I want to spend, and it’ll take a good bite out of my savings, but I can afford it.”
“Then he doesn’t know what he’s got here?”
“Oh, he knows.”
He understood then what she meant before about the things she wanted to teach Jason. No doubt able to get a good deal more money for the horse, the shop owner had let it go for what was, in essence, a song, to someone who was more in need of it than some wealthy collector.
They left the store feeling lighthearted and giggly, the shadow that seemed to follow them everywhere taking a back seat to the excitement of buying the horse.
At the truck rental place, Dory signed the agreement, tucked it into the pocket of her jeans and went to claim her prize.
They managed to get the wooden horse into the truck where they laid it on its side atop some musty old furniture blankets.
Ben wiped the perspiration from his brow with the back of his hand. “Man, that thing’s heavy. I could use a cold beer. How about you?”
Dory hadn’t worked as hard as Ben loading the horse into the truck, but the thought of a cold drink was appealing. “I spotted a little grocery store down the block.”
They headed off down the street. At the grocery store Ben pulled two cold cans of beer out of the refrigerated case. “It’s my treat,” he said as he paid the cashier.
She allowed him to pay, feeling secretly pleased by the gesture.
Outside, Ben touched the cold can to his forehead. He could get used to this straightforward, uncomplicated way of life. Where once he’d spent so much time looking down at life through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office as if he somehow weren’t a part of it all, in this place he felt invigorated by the clear blue sky and the warm wet earth. At the Dutch Mill, with Dory and Martin and Jason, he felt a part of something for the first time in a long time.
He glanced over at Dory walking beside him. Her head was tilted back as she took a long cool sip from the can. His eyes lingered on the smooth white column of her throat. His own throat went dry.
She looked so incredibly lovely with her head back and her dark hair spilling to her shoulders. When had the mere sound of her voice become so necessary to him? The scent of her hair as important as the air he breathed? And he realized suddenly, just watching her, that it was more than her son he wanted. More than the pleasure her body could give him. It was, pure and simply, her.
Lost in his longing, he didn’t feel the first few drops of rain that fell upon his face.
Dory’s eyes flew open at the drops that pattered her cheeks. “Hey, we’re getting wet! Come on,” she cried as she sprinted off.
The rain shower was quick and sudden, wetting their faces and lifting their spirits even higher, causing them to laugh breathlessly as they scurried for cover beneath a grove of apple trees across the road.
Her husky, impetuous laughter filled him with warmth and brought to mind images of happier times. In those unguarded moments beneath the dripping apple tree, he got his first real glimpse of the person she was underneath the sadness, to the carefree, happy woman she was at this moment. Her laughter was infectious, rousing in him the first real merriment he’d felt since who knew when.
He didn’t plan for it to happen. The sudden, unexpected reaching for her, the way his arms wound effortlessly around her, the gentle pulling her closer. But there she was, in his arms, her body softly yielding against his, her damp face upturned, lips parted, waiting for his kiss.
Their mouths met greedily. Dory’s body heated up so quickly that the air all around her seemed to catch fire. A small sound that was part protest and part plea issued from her throat. In spite of every inner warning, she moved not away, but closer. Her lips opened, inviting him in, accepting his intrusion. Her fingers slid across his broad shoulders to entwine in the thick black hair at the back of his neck. It was madness to respond to him, but it was a madness that Dory had no wish to be cured of.
How different this kiss was from the other, she thought dazedly. The other had been filled with bitterness and pain and scores of dark emotions she’d been unable to guess at. This one was tender and touching, but no less thrilling.
She was oblivious to everything that had come before this, as if the world had only just begun with this moment. Scores of sensations and feelings overwhelmed her. The savage pounding at her temples, and his swollen arousal pressed against her, threatened to drown her in a whirlpool of passion that went against every better judgment.
For several fierce moments they clung to each other, lips and bodies pressed together in urgency. And then, it was as if a curtain had lifted and the raw light of reality suddenly came on.
Ben was breathing hard when he released her and stepped back. Despite the red-hot heat emanating from him and the hunger still in his eyes, there was a look of guilt on his face. He hadn’t meant for this to happen. As it was, things were complicated enough between them. But then he’d seen her eyes, large green orbs filled with excitement, and heard the sound of her laughter, and suddenly he had wanted to possess her for reasons that had nothing to do with Jason, but everything to do with her. Even now, with her cheeks flushed, a look of reproach in her eyes, her lips red and still wet from his kiss, even now he wanted her.
Dory felt drained by Ben’s kiss. If his kiss alone had the power to make her unsteady on her feet, what would making love with him do to her? It was something she could not afford to find out. Not entirely sure what had just happened between them, she tried to steady her still-racing pulse by changing the subject.
“I was thinking that maybe you could give me a hand with the carousel.”
“I’ll hoist him up there for you, don’t worry about that,” Ben responded, misreading her intention.
“Yes, that. But what I meant was that while I’m working on him, you could help out with some other things. There’s a hole in the roof that needs to be repaired. We’ll need a final coat of paint and varnish over the floor and the panels can be shined up.”
He’d felt close to her just holding her in his arms, but this was different. The simple, straightforward way she asked for his help made him feel closer to her than ever before.
“Sure thing,” he said, trying to impart a calm impression while inside he was bursting with satisfaction.
“I thought we could start on it tomorrow.”
“But tomorrow’s Sunday.”
“I know you have Sundays off, but I thought—”
“It’s not that. I promised Jason I’d take him fly-fishing on the Beaver Kill.”
He wasn’t sure he’d done the right thing in promising the boy he’d take him fishing. After all, he was still new at this father thing. He longed to fit into the family picture, but he wasn’t certain how to go about it. The funny thing was that despite the unresolved issue between him and Dory, lately he’d begun to feel like the man around the house, while a darker part of him didn’t really believe that he could ever have the love and family he longed for.
“I didn’t know you fly-fish,” said Dory.
“Actually, I don’t. Martin’s been giving me some pointers. I asked him to come along, so that I don’t make a total fool of myself.”
He could see the relief that washed over her face, and was stung by the realization that she didn’t trust him.
“All right, then,” she said, “we can start on Monday, after we return the truck:”
Dory wondered at the relief she felt that Martin was going with them. It wasn’t that she thought Ben would run off with Jason, although the possibility, no matter how remote, hovered on the periphery of her mind. It was more that she feared encouraging a relationship between them, when there was so much at stake.
