Dragonfly Creek (17 page)

“I’m a big boy. I can handle it.” He hoped that was true.

“Yeah, well.” She brushed her hair back over her shoulder and stared out across the pool. “Like I said, we were both a little lost. It changed things, that pregnancy. Neither of us had what could be called an ideal childhood, and we were expected to bring this innocent child into the world. We knew it was time to get our act together, but we didn’t know how the hell to start. That’s where Jonah came in.” She lit the cigarette and took a long puff.

Ben could see the tension in every line of her body, and he thought if he touched her right then, she would break. He didn’t speak, but waited for her to continue, his instincts telling him to give her space. The patience paid off.

“He and Doug had grown up together. I think I mentioned that before.” She glanced at him, and Ben nodded. “He knew we were in trouble, and he suggested we go someplace neutral, away from our families, and get away from all the outside pressure. Figure out who we were as adults, figure out what was best for the baby. So we did. We flew down to Mexico.”

A growing unease had settled in Ben’s stomach. John had said Ainsley didn’t have any children, but she was telling him that she had been pregnant. Part of him wanted to stop her, but he was frozen in place.

“I don’t fly worth a damn,” she told him. “I never have. It gives me a migraine. I can normally take something for it and I’m fine, but being pregnant, I didn’t want to hurt the baby. By the time we landed in Mexico and got to our room at the resort, I was sick as a dog. Doug gave me something for the sickness, and it knocked me out. When I woke up, there was blood everywhere.” She swallowed audibly, even with the quiet patter of rain sounding around them. “You can’t imagine the pain. I thought I was dying. I knew right away it wasn’t a normal miscarriage.”

She drew her knees up and locked her arms around them, but she continued. “We were in the middle of Bumfuck Nowhere, Mexico, and the closest thing to a hospital was an hour away by plane. That still would have been a disaster, but a relatively minor one, all things considered, but a tropical storm had moved in. And we were stuck. They got me to the local clinic, and the doctor did the best he could, but with limited resources… there just wasn’t a lot he could do. So for the next three days, he managed treatment as best he could.”

“Ainsley, God. I’m sorry.” Ben sat forward, both hands coming up to his mouth. She went on as if he hadn’t spoken.

“It rained, and it rained, and it rained. Thunder, lightning. Power outages. For three days, it stormed. And I got sicker and sicker, and there was nothing in the world anyone could do about it. The weird thing was, the phones didn’t go out. And Doug was able to call Jonah and Byrdie, so they knew everything that was going on. Jonah pulled strings, and he and Byrdie came as close to us as they could. But the storm system was big, and they got stuck in Texas.” Hand shaking, she brought the cigarette to her mouth and inhaled.

“Jonah called a colleague in Lexington, who called a colleague of
his
from back in the day, and they had a hospital room waiting right across the border. By then, I was so sick, they doubted I’d make it back to the States. Infection had set in, and the antibiotics the clinic had on hand weren’t doing much to keep it under control. And the pain just got worse and worse, until I knew I was dying from the inside out. The rain finally lifted enough that we were able to get out, but it was a rough flight. I honestly didn’t care if the plane made the trip safely or not by that time. I would have welcomed an end to the pain.”

Ben stood and walked away, unable to control his emotions. Her voice was so flat as she described what she’d gone through. He knew what that flatness meant. He’d heard it in his mother’s voice when she talked about the tragedy his Aunt Kathy had gone through right before Sarah and Owen had married. That flatness indicated an emotional wound that would never be fully healed.

Once he thought he could face her without falling apart, he went back and stood at the end of the wide plank she was seated on. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” She had extinguished the second cigarette and was now sitting cross-legged. “I told you it wasn’t a pleasant story.”

Ben didn’t think that was all there was to the story, either. “What happened? After you got back in the country?”

She shrugged and played with her lighter. “I don’t remember much about the first week or so. Mainly just the pain… and the rain. The storm had followed us, you see. Byrdie told me they put me on the most powerful antibiotics they had. They had to do surgery. There’s a procedure when something like that happens, and my not getting it when everything first happened is what set up the complications.”

“I’m familiar.” She shot him a questioning look, and he explained. “Zanny had a miscarriage early this year.”

Ainsley raised her chin in acknowledgement and crossed her arms over her chest. “She’s okay?”

“Physically. As I understand it, mentally takes a while.”

She smiled sadly. “It does.”

“How long were you in the hospital?”

“All in all, four weeks in Texas, and then two more weeks in Lexington. I relapsed after we got home.” She sighed. “They had to do a second surgery after we got back. They’d missed some infection the first time and had to go back in. The doctor here wanted to do a hysterectomy, but because I wasn’t over thirty, he didn’t. The damage was done, though. Even without the hysterectomy, I’ll never be able to have children.”

She was watching him with a careful expression, as though expecting a blow. Ben didn’t know what to say. No words were going to be adequate to express what he was feeling.

“Ainsley…”

She turned and hopped down off the plank, her hand coming up to his arm to squeeze lightly. The rain had stopped, and the clouds were thinning out, letting the light of the full moon shine through. She headed out toward the pool. Ben followed.

Halting at the edge, arms crossed again, she looked down into the dark water. “The pain didn’t stop after I healed, although it was largely diminished. I’ll just say that things didn’t return to normal. Still haven’t, as a matter of fact, and that when I do have a cycle, it’s excruciating. The only way I could get through the first few times was with strong pain killers and muscle relaxers. Coupled with the fact that my marriage was a shell, it didn’t take much for me to become addicted. I fell headlong into it. Traded food for alcohol and prescription medicine. That’s why there’s no alcohol in the house. I don’t trust myself around it. Especially not here, under these circumstances.”

Ben didn’t think he could have put his feelings into words right then if his life had depended on it. Of all the things he’d been expecting to hear from Ainsley, this wasn’t it. He couldn’t wrap his head around the thought of the girl he’d known going through what she’d just described—not the miscarriage, and certainly not the addiction.

“How long have you been sober?” he finally managed to ask.

Her smile this time was not as harsh. “If I make it until Monday, twenty-three months. And let me tell you, it’s been the hardest twenty-three months of my life.”

“What changed?”

She looked up at him. “What made me get sober?”

He nodded.

“Doug was dying. And Jonah strong-armed me into rehab. Doug needed me, and Jonah wasn’t about to let me make the end of Doug’s life more miserable than it had to be.”

“You loved him?”

She looked away. “I came to. He was a good man. He stood by me when he didn’t have to.”

Ben didn’t know what to do. She was so fragile and so strong at the same time. Standing there beside him, she looked so alone, and he couldn’t handle that. Cautiously, he stepped closer and pulled her into his arms. She stood rigid for a moment, then with a ragged breath, sagged against him and returned the embrace. Ben held her tighter.

She didn’t cry. For that, he was grateful, as he knew that was something he couldn’t handle. But she slowly relaxed, and the moment stretched into the night.

When she pulled back, Ben didn’t want to let her go. He trailed his fingers down her arms and caught her hands with his.

“So that’s why you don’t like storms.”

“That’s why.”

“I can understand that.” He let out a long, harsh breath and figured it was time to change the subject before they both ended up crying. “It’s getting late.”

“It is. You probably want to head out.”

After a split-second hesitation, he shook his head. “Actually, since I don’t have to worry about Byrdie and her skillet-wielding abilities, I was hoping I could stay.” He held his breath as he waited for her response.

Ainsley blinked up at him, a little frown forming between her brows. “You were?”

“Yeah.”

She shook her head as though she didn’t understand. Seeing that confusion, Ben decided to lighten things up. He pulled her in and rested his hands on her hips.

“Well, think about it. That’s a long, long driveway to have to walk back down. And I’d either have to go as I am,” he gestured to his sheet, “or put those soaking-wet clothes back on. Now, it’s true that I probably have power at my apartment. But I hate wearing wet clothes more than I want power at this point. I might run into who knows what between here and home, and I’d rather my neighbors not see me in a toga. And quite frankly, your bed is more comfortable than mine.”

Ainsley had ducked her head and was laughing softly, as was his intent. “You did promise to see about that tree in the morning.”

“I did! So there’s that, too.”

She slid her arms up his chest, resting her hands on his shoulders. “If I send you home tonight, are you still going to help me?”

He pretended to consider the question. “Probably.”

“Then I guess the least I could do is give you a place to sleep for the night. Maybe I’ll even hang your clothes up to dry so you have something to wear in the morning. But if you snore, you may find yourself relegated to the couch.”

Ben slid his hands into her hair and held her head while he kissed her. He didn’t lift his mouth from hers until they were both breathing raggedly. “I don’t snore.”

“People who snore always say that,” she teased breathlessly. “Byrdie swears she doesn’t snore, but she saws a lot of logs in her sleep. However, if you keep kissing me like that, I’ll reconsider my stance.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Bending down, he swept her off her feet and headed for the house. “I’ll do my best.”

For the first time since he’d learned she was back in town, he didn’t force himself to think about her motives or about getting vengeance. After her revelations, all he wanted to do was comfort her—and himself. Because as she’d talked, the shell protecting his heart had cracked wide open, and he didn’t have the strength to put it back together again.

Chapter Twenty-One

T
he sun was fully up when Ainsley awoke the next morning. She was uncomfortable; the air in the bedroom was thick and muggy. They’d left the patio doors open, with the screens in place, in the hopes of getting some air movement.

Despite her discomfort, she was reluctant to move. Ben was pressed along her back, his arm wrapped securely around her hips. However, a pressing need to visit the bathroom made the decision for her. She eased out of bed, trying to not disturb him. Her robe was lying on the floor, and she scooped it up, wincing with the movement. She was a little sore, her intimate muscles not used to the workout they’d gotten the last few days.

Once she’d used the facilities and brushed her teeth, she went back to the bedroom. Ben was still asleep, though he’d rolled onto his stomach. The sight of him in her bed made her heart ache with longing. She would have given ten years off her life to be able to wake up to that every day. Edging closer, she leaned against the tall bedpost and just watched him.

Tousled and a bit long, the silky amber strands of his hair were threaded through with golden highlights. There was an obvious curl, and she wondered if it were shorter, if the curl would be more pronounced. His jaw was shadowed with a day’s growth of beard, only a couple shades darker than the hair on his head. Indecently long eyelashes rested against his cheeks, and Ainsley’s fingers itched to trace them.

He’d worked one leg free from the sheet wrapped around his waist. He was golden all over, smooth muscles and hard lines, and she could hardly believe he was real. Even his feet and toes were appealing to her. She had to smother a laugh at the thought.

With one last look, she left the bedroom and headed for the kitchen. The stove was gas, and since she had a french press, she could at least heat some water and get some coffee going. Lost in thought and not fully awake as she waited for the water to boil, she didn’t hear him come into the kitchen. When he slid his arms around her waist, she jumped.

“Sorry. Thought you heard me,” he murmured, nestling his face in the curve of her neck.

“No. You’re as quiet as a cat. Someone needs to put a bell on you.”

She felt him smile. “Good morning to you, too.”

He turned her and moved them away from the open flame on the stove, then kissed her. He tasted minty, and she relaxed into the kiss, her hands roaming his back and down to his waist. When she encountered elastic, she pulled back.

“Your briefs are dry.”

“Mostly. The pants are still damp, though.” He reached behind her and turned off the burner, then kissed her again. Moving from her mouth, he worked his way down her throat with little nips and licks. “I didn’t like waking up alone. I was scared. Comfort me.”

Ainsley laughed, the breath coming out in a snort. “Oh, you poor baby. I comforted you several times last night. I thought you’d be comforted out.”

He sighed and rested his forehead on hers. “Already, the honeymoon is over.”

She shook her head slowly as she rubbed her hands across his shoulders. “Not even close. Though I am a little sore.”

“Was I too rough?” Concern etched itself on his brow, and he brought a hand to her abdomen, caressing softly through the fabric of her panties.

“No. It’s nothing you did. It’s just a side effect of… things.” Even after telling him about the miscarriage and subsequent complications, she was still uncomfortable discussing such intimate details. He understood, though.

“Scarring?”

She knew her face had to be scarlet. “Yes. And the closer I get to things, the more it pulls,” she said, meaning her period.

“And you’re getting close to things?” His cheeks were warm, too, but he met her eyes.

She nodded. “I think so, anyhow. It’s unpredictable.” After one more soft kiss, she pulled away. “Want some coffee?”

“I’d love some.” He crossed his arms and lounged against the counter as she carefully added the water to the press. “So not to get too intimate, but you mentioned that you have a lot of pain when you, um, have your cycle. How do you handle that?”

“You mean since I’m a recovering addict?”

“Yeah.”

She moved one shoulder in a restless shrug. “Jonah usually monitors me. He’s a private physician, which is handy. The over-the-counter pain meds don’t do anything. We learned that pretty quickly after my first few sober periods. Since he’s there on the farm, he just comes over a few times a day when he needs to and administers the medicine, a pain killer-muscle relaxer cocktail. Lightweight drugs, comparatively speaking, but it works. It’s a bit of a drastic measure, but I don’t trust myself to keep it on hand. I’d rather not take the risk. Willpower only gets you so far sometimes.”

Ben surprised her by running a soothing hand down her back. “I’m glad you have him. And Byrdie.”

“So am I.” As they watched each other, silence stretched between them. Instead of the condemnation she’d expected to see, there was only acceptance. She didn’t know what to make of that, so she turned back to the coffee. “Hope you like it black. The cream is probably shot.”

“What, I don’t get sugar?” he teased.

She grimaced. “Sweet coffee? Oh, no. Only if it’s iced or a dessert. But, yeah, sugar’s right here.” She pulled the canister forward and handed him a spoon. “Help yourself.”

Taking her own cup, she went to the table and sat. “So what’s the plan with the tree?”

“I think John has a chainsaw. If he doesn’t, I know Dad does. With your permission, I’ll give John a call, maybe my cousin Rick. Unless that tree shrank during the night, or I was hallucinating, it’s going to take a few able bodies to move it, even after it’s cut up.”

“Count me in.” When he raised his eyebrows, she narrowed her eyes. “What? You don’t think I can help?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you were thinking it.” She sat her mug down and rose, then crossed to him. Hands on her hips, she leaned into him, keeping her face straight. “You think because I’m a woman, I’m only good for cooking and cleaning, Campbell?”

His grin was slow and wicked. He sat his mug aside and moved his hands under her shirt. “Not just that. I can think of a couple other things.”

“You—ooh!” She smacked his shoulder lightly as he cupped her bottom with both hands and squeezed. “Chauvinist.”

The laugh that rolled out of him matched the light in his eyes, and Ainsley realized he was happy. That might not last, but right then, he was happy.

“Sweetheart, most women who look like you, and who cook like you can cook, don’t have to lift a finger if they don’t want to. You know that. It’s how the world works.”

Ainsley rested against him. “Well, this woman wants to be more than a pretty face, thank you very much. After I got sober, even with Doug being as sick as he was, I had more nervous energy than I knew what to do with. I started working on the farm, and I haven’t stopped. It’s been therapy of sorts. I’ll have you know that I’ve become quite the rancher in the last couple of years. I have calluses. I’ve earned them.” She held up her hand so he could see.

“I stand corrected.” He ran a thumb over her palm, then brought it to his mouth and kissed it. “As much as I’d like to spend the rest of the day half-naked with you, we’d better get around. Is the phone back on?”

“I haven’t tried it yet.” She went to the end of the counter and lifted the receiver from the phone on the wall. Silence met her ear. “No. Still out.”

“Then why don’t we get dressed and go by John and Zanny’s? They live just five minutes away, down in Lothair.”

Ainsley bit her lip. “You don’t think we should try to call first? Maybe from a pay phone? It’s barely past nine o’clock.”

“They have kids. Noah’s a little morning person. If he sleeps past eight, he’s sick. They’ll be up.”

“You’re sure they won’t mind us just dropping by? I don’t want to impose.”

He stepped up to her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m sure.”

“They’ll know you spent the night.”

Ben stopped in the doorway to the kitchen and frowned down at her. “Is that a problem?”

“No. I… contrary to popular belief, I don’t do this. Ever. I’m not quite comfortable in my own skin just yet. They’ll know we didn’t spend the night platonically. That’s a little weird for me, Ben. I’m not ashamed. It’s just new. Awkward. Private.”

He tugged on the end of a lock of hair that was resting on her breast. “You know John, and you’ve met Zanny. They’re not judgmental. Can you trust me on this?”

For a long moment, she hesitated. She didn’t want to say yes if she couldn’t bring herself to face them. Finally, she nodded. “Okay.”

His eyes softened, and the dimple appeared in his cheek. “That’s my girl.”

Oh, how she wished that were true.

It took a little longer than usual to get dressed, as Ben kept her laughing the whole time. He was more playful than she’d ever seen him, though he wasn’t goofing off by any stretch of the imagination. She wondered if he was deliberately keeping things light after her confession the night before.

Somehow, she knew if she’d told him the whole story, that the child she’d lost had been his and not Doug’s, he wouldn’t be with her still. She felt a little guilt over that omission, but until and unless a more permanent arrangement developed between them, she would keep that truth to herself. She saw no need to hurt him by telling him everything if it wasn’t necessary. She’d already hurt him enough when she broke up with him.

Knowing that they would be doing manual labor, she wore the oldest clothes she felt comfortable wearing out in public—a pair of blue cotton cargo shorts and a flowered tank top. She paired the outfit with her running shoes.

“Good?” she asked Ben, holding her arms out to the side.

“Very good. Now I look like something the cat dragged in,” he teased, mimicking her positioning. His pants and shirt were hopelessly wrinkled, and he looked rough. But instead of decreasing his appeal, the roughness enhanced it.

“Maybe we should just stay here,” she murmured, not bothering to hide her appreciation as she tugged on his belt. She remembered Byrdie, however, and sighed. Though she was recovered, her knee wouldn’t make it up the long hill. “But we can’t.”

The driveway was scattered with small branches and leaves. A few small limbs were out of the trees, and Ainsley slowly shook her head. “I wonder just how widespread the damage is. I knew the storm was bad. How was it coming in?”

“Not too bad. I think there were some strong gusts, which is probably what happened to your tree.” He reached out, and Ainsley slipped her hand into his without hesitation. She felt like a teenager again, on a date with the most handsome boy in the world. The giddy feeling made her smile, then laugh.

Ben didn’t ask what was funny, just grinned at her and tightened his hand.

She gave in to her curiosity and asked about his family. “So is John a good brother?”

“He is. Mr. Dependable, even when we were young kids. Which is not to say he’s perfect, but he’s as solid as they come. All my family is.”

She smiled at him, more than a little envious. “You’re very lucky.”

“I know.”

“How did he and Zanny meet? You told me they hit a rough patch earlier this year.”

“They did. It was a very rough patch. They separated for a while. I’m so glad they worked things out. But as to how they met?” Ben chuckled. “Well, that’s a story. Zanny’s my age. We were in the same class, me, her, Emma. And this kid named Burke Lockhart was picking on Zanny. You know how little boys are when they like a girl. Sometimes, they aren’t so sweet. And he wasn’t sweet. He pushed her on the playground, and she fell.”

“Oh, poor little thing. Kids can be so mean. How old were you all?”

“The three of us were seven. John was nine. And Zanny was a tiny little thing. Emma got to her before I could, and then she turned on Burke. So John met Zanny for the first time after he pulled Emma off the bully who’d pushed her.”

“Good for Emma. I hope she hit him hard.”

They’d reached the curve in the driveway where it started down the steepest part of the hill, and Ben pulled her to a stop and into his arms. “Oh, you’re bloodthirsty, huh?”

“A little. Did she?”

“She did. She bloodied his nose.”

“I like your sister already.”