Hostile Takeover (43 page)

She didn’t reply to them, but he saw the acknowledgments, knew she opened them all. He didn’t need her to reply, didn’t want to take up energy she needed for other things. The acknowledgment was enough. That’s what he told himself, even as he told himself not to be an idiot and get caught up in a paranoid scenario where she wasn’t replying because he’d lost her forever.

He sent two real bouquets the day they arrived back into town, one for Marcie, one for Cass. The card to Marcie said simply,
“I’m sorry. For everything. Will talk to you soon.”
Cass’ card had the appropriate condolences from a family friend. Now wasn’t the time for him to seek her forgiveness. Forgiveness was a selfish thing to ask during something like this.

While he wished the reason had been different, the separation had given him time to think things through. He was steadier now. Stronger perhaps, or at least on the right path to it. Though he wanted Marcie with an urgency that bordered on painful, he wasn’t going to screw it up again. Timing was everything.

* * * * *

Hell.
He was late, despite breaking every traffic law to get there on time. He’d told Matt and Peter to go straight to the service while he went into the office to finish up a document for Lucas that needed to be filed today, and it had taken longer than expected. Crossing the back lawn quietly, he leaned against a tree a few feet back from the back row of chairs. It wasn’t a large crowd, mostly family and close friends, like Steve Pickard and his wife, here to support Cassandra and her siblings. Jeremy hadn’t had anyone in his life in the States not associated with his life as an addict. As Ben well knew, those kinds of acquaintances weren’t attend-your-funeral types.

Though mindful of the reason they were all gathered, he couldn’t help but seek out a glimpse of Marcie first. There. In the front row, her slim back even more fragile to him in the somber black, smooth hair in a barrette, the delicate line of her neck etched as she attended what Dana was saying. Her body leaned into Cass’, giving comfort.

He turned his gaze to the podium, decorated with a beautiful spray of yellow lilies and purple iris. Dana stood on a step behind it so she was tall enough to be seen by the gathering. It was different, seeing Dana in her minister’s robe, but her spiritual calling had always rested comfortably on her shoulders, despite the private side of her that some might say didn’t mesh with a Christian message. Ben guessed it depended on how a person defined being a Christian.

Dana could be mischievous, playful, downright kinky and irrepressible. She also had a lake of calm inside her, a deep understanding of people’s spiritual struggles in the face of physical and emotional adversity. She’d faced it firsthand herself with her injuries in Iraq. Her ministerial skills had already won her a loyal following at her New Orleans church, and they showed now, in her gentle but honest treatment of Jeremy’s life.

“Over six years ago, Jeremy came to the monastery door a troubled soul. Addicted to drugs, terminally ill, lost in every way one of us can be lost. But God opens doors for us throughout our lives, and Jeremy finally stepped through one that was offered. The monks told his sisters that he’d learned to be a kind and humble soul, always willing to help with their daily tasks when he had the strength to do so.

“On his good days, he helped them in the garden. Cass and Marcie visited a patch of vegetables that he’d sown and watered. Each day, even if he was too weak to do anything else, he would make his way down to that small patch of ground to care for it.”

Ben turned his gaze back to Marcie. Marcie had her arm around Nate, just entering his teen years, and Jess was between Talia and Cherry, holding them close to her sides. When Marcie’s head turned enough for him to see her profile, she looked composed but tired. He could see the strain. She’d been doing what they were all doing. Attending to whatever details needed to be handled, trying to make things easier for Cass. They all knew what a blow this was for her, and now Dana hit that one straight on.

The blind woman tilted her head. She was wearing dark glasses, a way to keep her fixed gaze from being distracting, but they also gave the impression she was passing her glance over the assembled. “Marcie told me that, for all the love his family gave him, it was his older sister Cass who never failed Jeremy, no matter the pain and suffering his actions sometimes brought upon the family. She always loved him, as love is meant to be. Just, true and honest.” She looked toward Cass then, unfailing in her direction. “Cass, as such, your siblings wanted me to conclude this service by reading 1 Corinthians 13. In your honor. They’re certain Jeremy would agree.”

Ben watched Cass’ shoulders quiver and then buckle. Lucas’ arm tightened around her, his head bending over hers. Marcie pressed her temple hard to her sister’s as the words were read.

Ben kept his gaze fixed on Marcie, the tears that ran down that side of her face, the brittle expression, as Dana spoke the powerful words.

“If I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing… Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; …it bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things…”

He should be sitting with her, as Matt was with Savannah, Jon with Rachel…Lucas with Cass. The front row of chairs had been for Jeremy’s immediate family. There were a line of chairs right behind them for the K&A family and Steve Pickard, Cass’ extended family. The single empty chair at the end was one he was sure Peter had kept open for him if he wanted to sit with them. He’d stayed back here, though, and not just because he was late and didn’t want to be disruptive. He’d been listening, watching, looking…for something.

He drew a breath, a deep, slow one. When he was mastering a sub, everything went away but his body and her body. There was one singular focus, one intent, everything clear, nothing hidden or obscured. This moment felt like that. Everyone’s focus on the minister, the quiet, tranquil surroundings, but there was a straight line between him and Marcie, connecting them. For the first time he put his hand on it, felt the tautness that confirmed it was tight and true, a true binding. Just waiting for him to have the courage to grasp it. To fight for it.

As the service concluded, people started filing back into the house for the hors d’oeuvres and to give the family their condolences. Matt saw him, nodded. Ben acknowledged him but stayed where he was. Matt understood, continuing to escort Savannah toward the house, Talia now under his other arm. Nate and the other siblings likewise had fallen in among the guys, or with Steve Pickard and his wife.

Marcie had turned Cass over to Lucas, but she stayed by her chair, watching them all leave. At first, he thought she knew he was there, but then he realized she didn’t. She looked too alone, too lost in her head. Once everyone was well on their way, she turned and walked away.

He followed her. She went to the end of a finger dock at the manmade lake, stepping out of her black heels to sit down. Putting her feet in the water, she braced her hands on the rough planking. Taking off his own shoes and socks, he rolled up the legs of his trousers, and then came up behind her, putting a brief hand on her shoulder to warn her of his presence before he sat down next to her, trailing his feet in the water next to hers.

She kept looking down into the water, the mild wind keeping it rippling with movement. After seeing her in outfits that taunted and teased him beyond bearing, it was unexpected to realize she was even more beautiful to him like this. Her face pale but quiet, her hair drawn back from her face, the dark modest dress against soft skin. She looked both older than expected, and yet more vulnerable.

“If you could meet God and ask him one question, what would it be?” She had a wistful, sad look, and he knew he’d do anything to make her feel better.

“I’d ask him if there was anything in the world that hadn’t been done, that hadn’t happened. Not the significant obvious stuff, like world peace. The urban legend kind of thing, what people claim has happened before, but no one is certain about it. Like someone sitting down on the toilet and finding a snake in there.”

She turned her head to look at him, her brows raised. “You ass,” she said, and then she started laughing.

Extraordinary. That was the word Jon had used about her maturity, but it fit so much more about her. He couldn’t help touching her face, but when he did, she stopped laughing. As she lifted a hand, hesitant, he waited on her. He knew it wasn’t that she wasn’t sure of his permission. She wasn’t sure of herself, of what she wanted. What he’d done to her, the hurt, was still too close. He had to let her choose. Which meant he also had to swallow down the disappointment when she closed her hand into a fist, lowered it to her lap again. “What would you really ask?”

“Hell, I don’t know.” He shook his head. “If you’re in the presence of God, all questions are supposed to be answered, right? At least that’s what I’d hope.”

She pursed her lips. “I wasn’t sure you believed in God. Not specifically. I figured you were more of an agnostic, if not a complete atheist, because of how things went when you were little.”

“When my mother left me in an alley, I was wearing a plastic rosary with a pressed shamrock pendant, suggesting she was Irish Catholic. Guess that’s the only reason she didn’t abort me. Or maybe she didn’t want to waste the cash she could use on her drug habit.” He shrugged before she could say anything to that. “When Jonas nabbed me for picking his pocket, he didn’t turn me in to the cops. He found me a decent foster home. He checked in on me, made sure I went to school. A lot of things happened in my life, good and bad, but now I’m pretty well off. I worked my ass off for that, but certain things had to happen at the right moments to get me on the right track. It makes sense there’s something out there that will help you, if you’re willing to be helped.”

“So if love is staring you right in the face, it’d be kind of stupid to turn your back on it, right?”

Touché, love.
But before he could think of a proper answer to that, she spoke again. “I got your flowers. The bouquet. Forget-me-nots. But I don’t want to talk about that right now, okay?”

“Okay.”

She sat silently for a few minutes, gazing at the minnows clustering around her toes. “I don’t know why I was thinking about this today. It was so long ago, and it seems somehow disrespectful, with how much further Jeremy came by the end, but I was remembering that night.” Her shoulder jerked, a tic, and his brow furrowed when he saw it.

“Allen, that was his name. I was thirteen, didn’t know anything. He was nineteen, and he came into my room, started flirting, but then he got mean and pushy. I was screaming for help, and he was tearing at my clothes, and all I could think was, ‘why isn’t Jeremy helping me?’ I never thought…when I realized that he’d been sitting in the other room, too stoned to even pay attention…”

Ben put a hand over hers on the dock. He wanted to hold her, but recent and past history was pressing in too close, so he settled for that overlap of fingers. Hers were cold. She stared down at them. “Cassie got home just in time, pulled him off me. God, she was… I think about it now, and she was incredible. It was like watching a bear go after something attacking her cubs. A nineteen-year-old guy taller and heavier than she was and she pretty much kicked the crap out of him. All the shit I gave her growing up…and she was always there. But even after that, she loved Jeremy, just as much as she loved all of us.” Her voice trembled. “I don’t know if she’s ever going to get over not being able to save him.”

“She will. Because she’s got you. And Lucas. All of us. We’re here for all of you.”

She looked at him then, and her eyes were sheened with tears. “Ben, please hold me. I promise I won’t try to jump you. At least right now.”

“Christ,” he muttered, but he needed no further invitation to pull her into his arms. Or put his mouth over hers, despite the absolute stupidity of doing so. It was a soft, long kiss, with gentle heat and connection, and he could almost feel that line between them tightening, winding around them both, holding them together. But there was a tension to her, a caution. He’d caused that, and he needed to fix it. It would take time, and a hell of a lot more than a kiss.

She hadn’t rebuffed him though. She’d asked him to hold her, even made a weak joke that made him hope she still wanted him. He needed her to want him with that same fierceness she’d had before, so he could honor it the way he should have from the beginning.

But today wasn’t about that. When he finally lifted his head, her eyes were closed. He used his fingertips to carry away the few tears, and then those brown eyes opened, looking at him. “I should get back to the house. Cass will need me.”

Looking at how pale she was close up, feeling the tremor in her hands, he shook his head. “She’s surrounded by friends and family right now. Let’s take a little bit of time for you.”

“Ben—”

“No arguing,” he said quietly. Her gaze flickered up to his face, uncertain. “If I thought she genuinely needed you right now, we’d go back. But she’s all right. Give yourself a breath. You’ve gotten what, probably two hours’ sleep this week?”

She shook her head. “I’ve been okay.”

“You’ve been better than okay. You’ve been brilliant. But dim the wattage for a few moments, firefly. Let’s walk somewhere. How about down to the gazebo?”