Mystic Park (26 page)

CHAPTER 31

Running footsteps sounded behind Benita on the jogging path in Freedom Park Tuesday morning. She shifted to her right, allowing room for the other person to pass on the inside of the trail. She'd moved back to Trinity Falls but was keeping the safety tips she'd picked up during her three years in Los Angeles.

The other jogger didn't pass her, though. Instead, his long, lean presence remained on her left. “Morning.”

At the sound of Vaughn's voice, Benita stumbled over nothing. Vaughn's hand shot out, catching her upper arm to steady her.

“Thanks.” Benita glimpsed his sweat-darkened navy T-shirt and black running shorts. Her gaze paused on the black knapsack on his back.
What was that about?

“Are you starting or almost done?” Vaughn asked the same question Benita had gasped when she'd arranged to happen upon him on the trail two months earlier.

“Starting.”
How many of these encounters will I have to survive before they stop hurting? Would they ever stop hurting?

“So am I.”

Benita scowled at the path in front of her. They both knew she was stuck with him. It wasn't as though she could speed off. Vaughn could outrun her in his sleep.

Benita drew a deep breath, inhaling the scents of grass and earth. The late-June weather was warm and sunny. There were a few other joggers and walkers—familiar faces now—on the broad dirt path. They exchanged nods and smiles of greeting, everyone from the speed walkers to joggers and hard-core marathon trainers. Another difference between Trinity Falls and L.A.

“What. Do you. Want?” Benita refused to look at him. Seeing his sweat-dampened T-shirt clinging to his torso, knowing she couldn't touch him would hurt too much. She had the answer to her question whether his mesmerism was deliberate or a product of his charms. It was definitely his charm. He couldn't fake this.

“I thought we could keep each other company while we jogged.”

Was he kidding? She couldn't take this. She just couldn't.

“Please. Leave.” Benita wiped moisture from her eyes. Was it sweat or tears?

“Benny—” His voice, laced with concern, was muted beneath the pounding in her ears.

“Please.” Benita slowed. She couldn't battle the jogging trail and Vaughn. She didn't have the stamina.

A familiar path came into view on Vaughn's left. He took her wrist and tugged her along. “Come with me.”

“No.” She pulled against him, but she might as well not have bothered. She felt like the animated character Gumby following in Vaughn's wake.

He pressed a button to pause his stopwatch as they moved deeper onto the path. Benita didn't want to admit her gratitude when he slowed to a walk. They traveled past mostly white ash, beech, and big elm trees, and only a few evergreens. It was quieter here. She heard the birds singing from the treetops and the rustle of squirrels and chipmunks in the undergrowth.

Benita dug in her heels. She was nearly face to face with the old oak tree on which she and Vaughn had carved their initials so many heartaches ago. “I don't want to be here.”

“We can stop now.” Vaughn faced her. Just looking at his handsome features and knowing they could never be together tore open her heart.

Benita looked away. “Let me go.”

“That's just it, Benny. I can't.”

She frowned at him.
What did that mean?
“What are we doing here?”

“I have something for you.” He started to take off his knapsack without releasing her wrist.

“You should let me go if you want to take that off.” A reluctant smile curved her lips.

Vaughn searched her eyes. “If I let you go, you'll leave.”

She held his gaze. “I promise I won't.”

Without hesitation, Vaughn released Benita's arm. He used both of his hands to shrug off the knapsack. He reached into it and withdrew a plastic bag, which he offered to her.

Benita looked from Vaughn to the bag. She took it, then pulled out a notebook. She read its cover: Benita E. Hawkins, 1999 to __.

Benita's head snapped up. Her eyes were wide on Vaughn. “You stole my diary!”

“I'm sorry. I—”

“You're sorry?” Outrage flashed through her. She could barely think. “If you were sorry, you'd have returned it fourteen years ago.”

Her mind raced with all the things she remembered writing in her journal. What about the things she'd forgotten about?
Oh, my word.

“Benny, I—”

“All of my most personal thoughts are in here.” She waved the book under his nose. “I wrote about the first time we . . . How could you? That was personal.”

Vaughn viced his hands around her upper arms and drew her to him. “You wrote that you'd love me forever.”

Benita stilled. “I can't believe you read my diary.”

“I was desperate, Benny.” His shoulders slumped. “Your parents had just divorced. They were both leaving Trinity Falls and you were leaving with them. I wanted to know what would happen to us.”

“Why didn't you just ask me?”

Vaughn released one of her arms to run his hand over the back of his neck. “I needed to be sure. I thought whatever you'd written in your diary must be true.”

“So you found my diary and kept it?” Benita's anger drained. Now she struggled with confusion. What was he saying?

“Through all these years and all of your relocations, those words—‘I'll love him forever'—have given me hope.” Vaughn released her arms, but his gaze still held her. “And, yes, I wrote
Mystic Park
about us.”

“I knew it.” Benita narrowed her eyes.

Vaughn crossed his arms over his dampened T-shirt. “And now I have an even greater reason to hope.”

“What?” Benita stepped back.

“You bought Doreen's house.” He took a step toward her.

“It's across the street from Aunt Helen's.”

“You wrote that you'd love me forever. I wanted to believe your diary entry so badly.” Vaughn took her hand. “But there were times when I lost hope. When I found out you were the one who bought Doreen's house, I felt like the governor had granted me a stay of execution.”

“Why?” Benita blinked back tears. She gasped when Vaughn went down on one knee. “What are you doing?”

“We've waited long enough, Benny.” He took both of her hands with his. “You're my forever love. Marry me, please? I don't want to be apart from you anymore.”

A slow-building roar of approval sounded behind them. Benita looked around and saw her morning jogging and walking companions watching them from a distance.

She shook her head. “There really isn't any privacy in Trinity Falls, is there?”

“Does that bother you so much?”

“No, because I don't care who knows that I love you like crazy.” She tightened her grip on his hands and tugged him to his feet. “It took me long enough, but I've finally found my home, and it's right here in your arms.”

Don't miss a Finding Home novella in

 

A C
HRISTMAS
K
ISS

 

Coming in October 2015!

 

Here's a sneak peek!

CHAPTER 1

“Picture this.” June Cale made her pitch for the Kwanzaa presentation from the threadbare seat in front of her boss's desk at the Guiding Light Community Center. It was Monday morning, the second day of November. They were running out of time. “Saturday afternoon before Thanksgiving, our community room is set up like an auditorium. A makeshift stage is built in front of the room. Doctor Quincy Spates, professor of African American History at Trinity Falls University, stands on the stage. From a podium, he leads a free discussion on the seven values of Kwanzaa.”

Benjamin Brooks, the center's new director and her boss of two months, lowered his coffee mug. As usual, his handsome sienna features were hard to read, emotionless.
The Iceman
. “How does a free presentation raise money for the center?”

“It's not a fund-raiser.” June adjusted the project folder on her lap. “Doctor Spates's discussion is a community-engagement event. The goal of this event is to help strengthen our relationship with the community, which will—hopefully—make it easier to persuade them to support the center.”

June considered her boss's conservative blue tie and the snow-white linen shirt that hugged his well-muscled shoulders. They both looked expensive—and out of place in the worn and faded office. Why had Benjamin Brooks really returned home to Trinity Falls?

Like his youngest brother, Vaughn, who was a professor of music at Trinity Falls University, Benjamin Brooks was a dangerously attractive man. His dark brown hair was cut neat and close. His square jaw was clean shaven. Piercing ebony eyes beneath thick dark eyebrows dominated his chiseled features. June's tripping pulse wasn't all due to nerves.

“Has Quincy agreed to do the Kwanzaa presentation?” Benjamin wrapped his coffee mug between his hands. Was he trying to warm them? His office was like an ice box.

“I asked him to hold the date. But I need to confirm with him.” June's nerves were tingling again. Benjamin was a lot less enthusiastic than she'd hoped.

“You're not giving him much time. Today's November second.” Benjamin's gaze settled somewhere behind June. She assumed he was consulting the twelve-month calendar his predecessor had posted to the wall. “The Saturday before Thanksgiving is November twenty-first, less than three weeks away.”

“If you approve of the idea, I'll invite him today.” June waited for him to say the words.

June had approached Quincy when she'd started her position as deputy director and fund-raising manager in August. He'd agreed to hold the date. However, she hadn't wanted to confirm the event until her new boss had settled in after his September start date. With one center crisis after another, time had slipped away and the November date had rushed up on her.

“What else do you have?” Benjamin settled back on his gray cushioned chair. He seemed underwhelmed.

June regrouped. “Picture this. The community room transformed into a winter wonderland. Traditional Christmas dishes and desserts served in a winding buffet line while Christmas carols and secular pop songs provide music for a dinner dance.” June saw it in her mind's eye. The image made her smile.

“Didn't a special community fund-raising committee just host a party for the center?” Again, Benjamin appeared less than impressed.

“That was in January. It was a twentieth anniversary party for the center.” June had heard around town that the event had been an incredible success.

“We shouldn't host a fund-raising party in January, then another in December. That's overkill.” Tension seemed to hover around Benjamin like a cloud.
Why?

“Going forward, I think we should host a Christmas dinner dance. Then, the center's anniversary in January could be our annual online day of giving.”

“What's that?”

“Giving Tuesdays are national examples of days of giving. We'll focus all our energies on one day, the center's birthday, and ask people to either make a donation online or mail a check. I'm working on a process for the project.”

“It sounds like a good idea.” Benjamin nodded as he sipped more coffee.

“Great. Then I'll move forward with the Christmas dinner dance.” The anxious butterflies in her stomach settled down.

“I don't want to do a Christmas celebration.” Benjamin waved a hand, dismissing June's proposal. “Everyone's doing that.”

“Who else is doing a Christmas fund-raiser?” June searched her mind but couldn't think of a single organization in Trinity Falls that was doing a similar event.

“Books and Bakery.”

“Megan hosts a Christmas-themed store event similar to her Halloween party and story time. But it's not a fund-raiser.” Megan McCloud was the owner of Books & Bakery. Her themed events were highly anticipated in the community.

“Close enough.”

June couldn't disagree more. “Our event will be very different from Books and Bakery's.”

Benjamin was shaking his head even before June finished speaking. “We should avoid events that are even remotely similar to long-established traditions like Books and Bakery's Christmas celebration.”

June was almost speechless with disappointment. She tried a different approach. “One of the reasons I think a Christmas dance would be successful is that the January birthday party brought in a lot of money and increased attendance for our other events.”

“Come up with something else, June.” Benjamin's tone was flat with finality.

June took a moment to moderate her tone. Her gaze circled his office. It was Benjamin's ninth week on the job. Why was he making such slow progress toward moving all the way into his office? Shelf spaces and cabinet surfaces were bare. Faded patches on the walls revealed where his predecessor had hung framed photographs and plaques. When would Benjamin do the same? The only personal item in his office was a framed photograph of two young children. His son and daughter? They were beautiful.

She turned back to her new boss. “Do you have any suggestions?”

“I'm sure you'll think of something.”

June was glad one of them thought so. “May I at least go forward with the Kwanzaa presentation? As you said, we need to give Dr. Spates time to prepare, provided he agrees to do the presentation.”

Benjamin seemed to hesitate. “Sure, the presentation should be fine.”

June stood to leave. Her gut burned with frustration. At the threshold of his modest office, she once again faced Benjamin. “We need a year-end event, something spectacular to engage the community. I spent a lot of time developing the proposal and budget for the Christmas dinner dance.”

Benjamin leaned into his desk. “I appreciate your time and efforts. Perhaps some of your work could be applied to your new idea.”

His message was loud and clear: her dinner dance was a nonstarter.
Come up with something else.
But did he have even one clue of what went into coming up with and executing these events?

“I'll see what I can do.” June walked out of Benjamin's office.

Her heart wouldn't be engaged in any other idea, though. She'd wanted to raise money for the center but she also wanted to celebrate Christmas. Why was The Iceman being such a Scrooge?

 

 

Benjamin's cellular phone rang, interrupting his contemplation of the semi-empty refrigerator in his townhouse Monday evening. Welcoming the reprieve, he allowed the fridge's door to swing shut and fished his phone from the front pocket of his gray slacks. He recognized his ex-wife's telephone number on the identification screen.
Perfect.

He counseled himself to keep calm as he accepted her call. “Hello, Aliyah.”

“Ben, how are you?” She sounded hesitant. It had been almost a year since their marriage had ended, Christmas Eve's Eve. Still, in the seven months since their divorce had been finalized, neither of them had gotten used to the coldness of their new relationship.

“What is it, Aliyah?” He didn't want to chat or catch up. He wanted this call to be over, the sooner the better.

“When last did you hear from the children?” Aliyah's voice was tense.

“It's been a while.” Benjamin had spoken with their nineteen-year-old son, Terence, and eighteen-year-old daughter, Zora, perhaps two weeks ago. He'd last seen them about ten months ago when he and Aliyah had helped them move into the residence halls at The Ohio State University. “Why?”

“They've stopped returning my calls.”

“They aren't returning mine, either.” When Benjamin did reach them, their conversations were frustratingly brief. He didn't know which was worse, their silence or the one-sided conversations with their monosyllabic responses. “They're upset about our divorce. They don't understand why we won't get back together.”

“They know now,” Aliyah reassured him.

“What do you mean?” Benjamin needed to sit down. He moved into the living room of his small, two-story townhouse.

His black leather recliner was one of the most uncomfortable pieces of furniture ever created. In fact, he'd bought his furniture—the black television stand, coffee table, and entertainment system, and the matching black leather sofa—to fill the room. Comfort hadn't been his first priority.

“I told them I'd had an affair.” Aliyah's words were low with shame. “I didn't like what our breakup was doing to your relationship with them. It wasn't fair that they blamed you for our divorce.”

“How did it go?” Benjamin sank deeper into the stiff recliner.

The discussion must have taken a lot of courage on Aliyah's part. Benjamin couldn't bring himself to express his gratitude for her confession, though. The wound her betrayal had caused was still too fresh. He couldn't get past it or the fact that, if Aliyah hadn't had an affair, they wouldn't need to tell their children about it. He wouldn't have had to leave his job. And he wouldn't have returned to his small hometown of Trinity Falls in northeast Ohio to start over.

“Telling them was difficult and ugly. And now they're not speaking to me.” There were tears in Aliyah's voice.

“I'm sorry.” Surprisingly, it was the truth. He was sorry their children were giving her the silent treatment. She'd been a faithless wife, but there was no denying she was a loving mother.

“So am I.” Aliyah paused. “Thanksgiving is less than four weeks away. I thought they'd come home for school break.”

“What makes you think they won't?” This would be the first Thanksgiving he'd spend without his family in nineteen years. Benjamin rubbed his chest to ease the weight crushing his heart.

“Well, for one thing, they're not returning my calls.” Aliyah's words wobbled around a forced chuckle.

“They'll come around.” It was time to get off the phone. He couldn't control his emotions much longer.

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving, Ben?”

Benjamin gritted his teeth. Why was she asking? What did she expect to hear? “I'll probably spend it with my brothers.”

“I'd forgotten that Zach had moved back to Trinity Falls as well. Now all of the Brooks brothers are back in town.”

Benjamin didn't find her observation amusing. He loved Trinity Falls, but he'd had a family and a life in Chicago—before the woman who'd promised to love and cherish him until “death do us part” had cheated on him. Repeatedly.

“I hope you and the kids enjoy Thanksgiving. I'll call.” Benjamin pushed himself up from the recliner.

“Spend Thanksgiving with us.” Aliyah's request rushed down the cell phone connection.

Benjamin froze. “You want us to be like a family again?”
She must be kidding.

“I want the kids to spend Thanksgiving at home. I also want them to see us getting along.”

Benjamin rubbed the back of his neck. “What about Larry?”

Larry Cox had been Aliyah's lover for almost two years. He'd also been Benjamin's boss at Hughes & Coal Corp., the Chicago-based financial investment company for which he'd worked for almost twenty years.

“Larry and I aren't seeing each other anymore.” Aliyah's admission was surprising.

She'd waited until their divorce to break off her extramarital affair. What, if anything, should he read into that?

“I'll call you and the kids on Thanksgiving Day.” He started to end the call.

“Ben, please. They're not speaking to me.” Aliyah's voice broke. “I'm not too proud to ask for your help.”

“There's nothing I can do for you. Terry and Zora need time.” Benjamin touched the screen to end the call.

Hopefully, time was all he needed as well to banish the bitterness and anger in his heart. June's pitch for the center's Christmas dinner dance came to his mind. Benjamin shook his head. How could he approve the event? He wasn't exactly in the Christmas mood.

 

 

June's cellular phone rang just as she entered her home Monday evening. She fished the device from her purse as she locked her door. The caller identification listed her son's name.

“Wow, two phone calls in one week.” June kicked off her shoes, then crossed the entryway of her colonial home. “To what do I owe this bountiful pleasure?”