Forever This Time (23 page)

“I don't know, Ben. My whole life is in Boston … and I like it that way.”
Don't I?
“I took two weeks off, but I can't saddle my partner with a whole clinic for any longer than that.”

She threw a twig in to chase his. “I'm worried about Mom. It sounds weird to say after … everything. But I am.”

“Of course you are.”

“This would be tough for someone who
hadn't
had her history.”

“Yup.”

“So what's she going to do when things get too hard to handle? That's what gives me nightmares. All the progress she's made could go up in one little slug of one little bottle.”

“All true.”

Josie looked up from the water. “You're not especially helping here.”

“Just listening.”

“I know. I appreciate it.” She flung another twig, more angrily than she meant to. “Oh Ben. What am I going to do?”

He paused, studying her. “I get the feeling your dad's not the only thing on your mind.”

“Ha.”
You don't know the half of it, buddy.

“Not so easy popping back into town, eh?”

She sighed. “I feel like I've been gone way longer than ten years.”

“Lot of changes.” He picked up a batch of pine needles and rolled them between his hands. “It's not the same place you left.”

“I know. I can see that. But a lot hasn't changed. I think that's the hard part.”

“Yup. S'true.”

Josie watched a leaf spin in the lazy water as it headed over the shallow pebbles. “I was so sure I was so right about everything when I left.”

“Part of being young, honey. We always know everything when we're eighteen.”

“I just don't know what to think about anything anymore. Mom's different, Dad's … well, I don't even know who Dad is anymore, and Ethan's different but the same. I can't sort it all out.”

“You will. You haven't been back but a week. You think you're going to figure it all out overnight?”

“Yes.” Josie frowned. “But I apparently misjudged how complicated everybody got.”

“It might not be my place to say it, but I think everybody got a little
less
complicated after you left.”

“Thanks, Ben. That makes me feel
so
much better.”

“You know that's not what I meant.” He tossed more needles into the water. “I just mean no one ever expected you to up and leave. You were gonna go get your degree and come back and run the place when your dad retired. It was the plan.”

“It wasn't
my
plan.”

“I know. Your parents were too wrapped up in their own troubles to see that at the time. But when you left, it was like a light went off here. Your dad walked around here for weeks looking like he didn't know whether it was morning or night.”

“Well, I didn't exactly make a graceful exit. I'm sure he was furious.”

Ben shook his head and leaned his elbows back in the pine needles. “I don't remember him being mad. I really don't. I remember him being sad. Very, very sad. He came down to my shed about a week after you'd gone, and he could hardly string sentences together. Thought it was all his fault you'd gone sour on his dream for you. Thought you blamed him for your mom's issues. Thought he'd scared you away forever.”

“Well…”

“He changed, honey. He knew he'd been using this park as a crutch for years. Knew he'd been avoiding your mom's problems by making sure he was never home. I just don't think he'd ever had the power to step outside himself and realize what it had all done to
you
. When he did, it knocked him for a serious loop. He never thought you'd really leave.

“So … he took that next week off, brought your mom to Maple Tree Farm to dry out, and he's been helping her stay sober ever since. They've been praying for years that you'd come home, but they wanted you to do it in your own time, for your own reasons.”

He looked into her eyes. “Every single day they miss you, honey. Every single day.”

“Ben, stop it. You're going to make me cry.”

“I'm just telling you the truth. You get to decide what you do with it.”

Josie threw another twig into the brook and watched it spin until it was out of sight. “Why didn't they ever tell me any of this?”

Ben took a big breath. “I don't know, honey. I think they wanted you to come home of your own accord, not because you felt guilty or coerced by them cleaning up their acts. They only wanted you to come back here if you felt the pull yourself. 'Course, no one coulda predicted
this
happening.”

“Did you know Mom's been sending me letters every month for nine years now?”

“Nope.” He looked at her. “You ever answer?”

Josie looked down, a new feeling coursing through her body. Was this what shame felt like?

“No. I never answered.”

“Well, maybe you just weren't ready yet.” Ben shrugged. “And I imagine it'd be hard to put away all those years that came before.”

“I don't know. I just never—trusted them, I guess. They were all breezy and happy and—not the mom I knew. Felt like a stranger was writing to me.”

“Did you ever start to believe maybe she was better? For real?” Ben raised his eyebrows.

“Well, she sounded it—obviously—but Ben. Alcoholics are the master manipulators of the universe. Even at her worst, she could have conjured up a newsy little fake letter once a month.”

“
Every
month?”

“I didn't know what to think.”

He nodded slowly. “Well, what do you think now?”

“I still don't know.”

“She's not drinking, right?”

“I don't think so.”

“So maybe you could let yourself believe it's for real? Just a little bit?”

Josie sighed. “Maybe. It's hard.”

Ben took a deep breath. “I know. There's a lot else here that's for real, too, honey.”

“I think I can only take in so much at one time.”

He patted her knee. “When you're ready. When you're ready.”

“I'm afraid, Ben.” Josie wiped her hands on her jeans. A part of her felt like she was eight years old again and just wanted to be wrapped in Ben's big, comforting hug. “I don't know what I'm supposed to do.”

“I'm pretty sure you'll figure it out soon enough. And in the meantime, just keep moving, one step at a time. It's all a body can do sometimes.”

“I wish I could love this place like Dad always wanted me to. I really do. It would be so much easier.”

Ben fiddled with a twig, tearing off pine needles one by one. “Well, you did used to love it. But you ended up having a lot of reasons not to, in the end. Can't ignore them—they're part of you. But you also have a choice about what you do with them. They don't have to keep you away from this place forever, honey.”

Josie nodded slowly. “I'm doing my best.”

Then her stomach felt queasy as she remembered sitting in the Snowflake Village parking lot with a dead Jeep and no one to call.

“You know what's really depressing, Ben? I don't have even one friend left here.”

“You might have more than you know.”

“I appreciate your optimism, but it's a small town, and I dumped its golden boy.”

He smiled. “Even small towns forgive, honey. You were young, your parents were different people then. You had an awful lot of very good reasons to go. Doesn't mean you can't come back, though. Give people a chance to welcome you back, Josie. I bet they will.”

“I don't know, Ben. I just don't know. I never pictured it—not in a million years. I have a whole 'nother life in Boston.”

Ben chuckled. “But you just said
a whole 'nother
.”

“Did not.”

“Did. And nobody outside of these parts says it that naturally—not that I've found, anyway.” Josie felt herself smile. He patted her shoulder as he stood up. “Just keep your options open, honey. And maybe even your heart. You never know.”

“I'll work on the options, for now, if it's all the same to you.”

Ben chuckled. “The heart'll follow. The heart'll follow.”

 

Chapter 24

When Josie pushed open the door of Bellinis on Friday night, the booths were all full, as was every stool but one at the bar. Must be Mama B's chicken and mostaccioli special was still the stuff of Friday-night legend around here. The noise level almost drowned out the corner televisions blaring the Red Sox game.

She walked slowly toward the one empty barstool, praying for courage. The main reason she was here was absolute desperation for home-cooked food. The second reason was her absolute desperation for a friend here in Echo Lake, as pathetic as that sounded. So she'd put on her brave face and was determined to make nice with Molly tonight. She'd probably end up with a plate of mostaccioli in her lap—
oops
—but she had to give it a try.

Five minutes later, Molly blasted through the kitchen doors and past Josie with six plates piled on her arms. Her bright red hair had escaped its headband and was falling in sticky wisps to her cheeks as she flew around the restaurant delivering plates and picking up empty glasses. Josie looked around, wondering where the other waitresses were, but didn't see another soul working.

Finally Molly blew back into the bar area and sidestepped down the bar, taking orders as fast as she could scribble on her little green pad. When she got to Josie, she didn't even look up. “What can I get you?”

“Peanut butter sandwich. Toasted on three sides. Chips on top. Side of pickles.”

Molly started as she scribbled the first part, then looked up at Josie. “Very funny.”

“Sorry.”

“What do you really want?”

“Anything that's hot and doesn't taste like popcorn cakes or yogurt. That's all Mom keeps in the house, and I haven't had time to get any groceries.”

“A burger fine?”

“Whatever's easiest, Mols. Really. You look like you're crazy-busy. I feel guilty even ordering.”

Molly raised her eyebrows like she couldn't quite believe Josie was capable of the emotion. “Night servers both called out sick.”

“Oh no.”

“One Direction's at the Garden tonight. I'm sure there's absolutely no connection.” Molly flipped the pad closed, then crashed through the kitchen doors and immediately flew back out with six more plates.

In the mirror, Josie had a view of most of the pub. It was a view she'd spent a lot of hours perusing, as Mama Bellini had sat her at the counter after school more times than she could count back in her junior high days. She smiled as she remembered coming through Bellinis' back door after school and smelling freshly baked rolls.

*   *   *

“Hey, Josie! So good you're here! I got seven pans of rolls in the oven and nobody to wrap up this silverware. Sit down, have a cookie, wrap!” Mama gathered her into a bear hug as she came through the door, then pulled off her backpack and sent her toward a barstool. “How was school? You ace the spelling test this week?”

Josie bit into a warm chocolate chip cookie as she nodded. “One hundred percent!”

“That's my girl. Knew it. Next thing you know, you're going to be in seventh grade. I swear, how the time flies!” Mama paused for a second as Josie took a long gulp of milk, then sidled through the opening in the bar, pointing at the bucket of hot, clean silverware. “See if you can get two hundred of those wrapped. I'm making my lasagna tonight. It's a-gonna be a busy one!”

“I'm on it!” Josie hiked herself up to her knees so she could reach the pile of napkins and fold them carefully around bundles of silverware.

“When you're done with that, Ike was wondering if you could come over and help him get his tools organized. How that man operates a garage in such a mess is beyond me.”

Mama started to head through the kitchen doors, then paused. “And if it's all right with your momma, I could sure use an extra hand here at dinnertime if you want to come on back here.”

“Can I run the register?”

“Can you do math?”

“Aced that test today, too!”

“Then you're on register tonight. Be back from Ike's by five o'clock, okay?” Mama winked, then bounced her way back into the kitchen, where Josie could hear her pulling pans from the oven. The smell of fresh, hot yeast rolls spilled into the bar area, and Josie's mouth watered.

Before she had ten sets of silverware wrapped, Mama appeared with a plate and set it down on the counter in front of her. “New recipe. Need a taste-tester. You let me know if they're okay.” Then she bustled back through the door.

Josie buttered the two hot rolls on the plate, then took a giant bite of the first. Mama always said she was trying out recipes every single Friday, but Josie could never tell the difference. The rolls were always hot, yummy, and perfect—just like they'd been the previous week.

*   *   *

Josie shook her head to clear the memories. Mama hadn't been trying out recipes. She'd just been feeding a hungry kid. She hadn't needed an eleven-year-old cashier, either. But somehow she'd find Josie enough jobs to do that eventually Mama would proclaim it too late to go home, and Josie would climb the back stairs with Molly and sleep on the trundle bed in her room.

Josie glanced in the mirror again. Although Molly was clearly doing her best to keep up with the crowd, it was a three-person job at least, and Josie could see irritation rising in the crowd. Uh-oh.

“Hey, what's a guy gotta do to get a drink around here?” A sweaty palm landed on Josie's shoulder as a chubby guy in khakis and a polo shirt tried to create a space between her and the next barstool.