Hidden Shadows (The Shadow Series Book 1) (24 page)

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“Why are you here, Jenna?” His voice came out harsher than intended, revealed some of the bitterness and irritation that wrestled within.

“I need to talk to you, if you’ll let me.”

Ben grunted. “And accuse me of what this time?”

“I deserved that,” she admitted, surprising him and briefly impressing him as her eyes never wavered in spite of the glare he sent. “I deserve most anything you toss at me right now. You don’t have to talk to me. You don’t even have to respond to what I say. But I’m asking you," she leaned forward now, pressed her hands onto the wooden table he’d made with his own, “can you . . . will you at least, listen?”

As the happy noises filling his home reminded him of what he’d lost, what he’d never have with her, with the children he’d grown to love, he mumbled, "Outside.”

She nodded, rising quickly, and followed him down the short hall, out the front door to the wide porch that wrapped around the cabin.

He turned, ready to get this over with, but she was busy prancing to the porch’s edge, her bare feet noiseless against the whistling wind. She reminded him of an exotic fairy, skin as pale as moonlight, dark hair flying around her, as she braced against the thick railing, leaned into the night, and breathed deeply. “I love it out here. I meant to tell you that earlier, over dinner, what a wonderful home you have.”

“Thank you,” he managed stiffly. “I built it myself.”

“No? That’s wonderful!” Her eyes were bright and eager, and it took effort not to join in, be taken in by her wonder.

He shrugged. “Didn’t do it alone. But they were my plans, my ideas.”

“It’s fantastic, Ben. Really amazing. Cozy, elegant, charming. I underestimated your talent.” She turned to face him, met his eyes briefly, then couldn't seem to help looking up nor hide the girlish grin as the rain moved from puttering to pounding, playing out a metallic melody on the porch’s tin roof.

And heaven help him if he didn’t feel the urge to grab her, kiss those full, red lips that he knew were soft and sweet and tasted of berries.

“A tin roof?” she all but squealed.

And he all but punched down the pride that swelled as she appreciated his work, admired the home he’d made.

Angry at his own foolishness, irritated at her for bringing it on, he stuffed his hands in his pockets, eyed her blandly. “So talk.”

She sobered, straightened. “Of course.”

She looked past him, as if the words she wanted to say were in the wind, before taking a deep breath and meeting his impatient stare. “First, I apologize for barging in and showing up uninvited. I didn’t want you to feel ambushed, but I know you're still angry with me, and I was afraid you wouldn’t see me otherwise. So I did go behind your back there and speak to your Mom, to give your parents and Heidi a head’s up on my intentions."

“And what are your intentions?”

“To speak to you, face to face, just like this. To look into your eyes while I say what I’ve gone over and over in my head.” She stopped now, took a small step toward him and just watched his face. The way hers clouded with emotion made him feel exposed, as if she was seeing something beyond the surface, beyond the impassiveness he displayed.

“I’ve missed you, Ben. Missed so many things about you, everything about you really,” she added on a sad sigh. "Since the moment I met you, you make my heart do this thing,” she patted her chest swiftly, “and my belly roll around in little flips.” She exhaled a laugh, placed a hand on her stomach. “And that’s not what I planned to say, but seeing you makes me feel it. And I want you to know what I feel.”

When he said nothing, she smiled, but it was with regret and sorrow. And his hearted ached a little because of it. Because he’d taken joy from her moments ago, replaced it with misery.

But
what had she done to him? Gutted him, hurt him to the core.

As if sensing that, she moved another step closer, added a layer of intimacy by relaxing against the rails, letting the rain gather on her sweater, pool on her skin, soak into the bulk of her hair.

“I don’t think I realized,” she began again, “as most of us don’t until someone is gone, the places you filled in my life. Without your smile, your big, strong laugh, that smart mind that challenges my pride and stubbornness, I feel different, empty. And that’s my fault. Completely my fault. I pushed you away. And for that, I’m so sorry.”

She looked beautiful, vulnerable, standing there on his porch, offering sincerity, admitting wrongs. It would cost him to walk away, cost him greater in the long run if he didn’t do it now.

“I appreciate the apology, Jenna. Appreciate your honesty. I won’t say you didn’t boost my ego a bit, but I don't see as missing me changes much. I’ll be going on though, if you’ve said your piece.” He moved around her, looked out to the rain that had evolved to full-on storm. “Weather like it was today made me less productive than I like.” He started toward the door. “It was good to see you though, the kids. I’m glad you brought them out. Tell them goodnight for me.”

And with considerable effort and a good bit of regret to go with it, he turned his back on her.

“Ben, wait,” she called, her voice pleading, laced with a drop of desperation.

“I love you.” The words carried on the wind, came to him strong and haunting. “I love you, Bennett. And that might not change much either. But it's true. And it’s what I came to say. What I planned to say . . . that hasn’t come out anything like I rehearsed.”

His hand dropped from the door’s handle, fell to his side.

And he turned to face her, watched as she moved to him swiftly, spoke even swifter, her hands bunched at her heart.

“I was afraid, Ben. So afraid. And I let it cloud my judgment, make me feel crazy things, say even crazier ones. I was panicked after finding Perry, heartbroken that my children saw it, had to know that evil and cruelness like that exists. They may not have realized it, but they saw it, were a part of a mad person’s taunting and harassment. I felt I was to blame. And I wanted someone else to blame too. I couldn’t shoulder it all myself.” Her voice broke now, rose as thunder boomed, as the pounding rain became sheets of metal falling from the sky. "Logic told me you were the newest piece to my puzzle, the most recent change to my life. So I let myself go there, let myself think and say, and worse say to
you
, things I knew weren’t true. Weren't even logical or realistic.

“You are good and kind. You’ve been wonderful to me and my children. You’ve only offered love and goodness and I had no reason in the entire world to think such awful things of you. Except for the fear. It gripped me so strong and fierce I had to find a way to release it, to make sense of what’s been going on.”

She paused. He waited, listened, while lightning bathed the sky, highlighted her face in waves as it flashed like a strobe.

“My heart told me, for so long, that I loved you. And that scared me too.”

She edged closer now, made it so they were only inches apart. Her brows knit with feeling, her passion evident in the flush of her cheeks, the deep blue of her eyes as wild as the dark beyond.

But when she spoke, it was quiet and calm.

“You said you loved me once—more than once. And I was hoping, praying, that because of that, you could try to understand. Someone killed,
mutilated
that sweet bird. You didn’t see how awful, how pitiful.” She dropped her eyes, closed them, pressed a hand to her forehead. “And my Jacy, she saw it first. Saw all the blood, the smashed body, the mangled head.”

Suddenly, she whipped her head up, snapped her eyes to his. “And you don’t even know—I haven't even been able to tell you about Jacy being taken from school.”

Instinctively, he gripped her arm, felt his pulse bump up. “Is she okay?”

“Yes, yes she’s fine. But I wasn’t.”

And then she told him. She explained about the forged note, how Ben had called, further proving to Molly she was needed as a back-up, and finally, how Jacy was absent from her designated line.

So she’d had more than the dead bird to deal with that day. Much more weighing on her heart than he’d known.

“So now,” Jenna sighed, “I’ve said my piece. I acted rashly and stupidly and without much sense. And I’m irrevocably sorry. Incredibly, admittedly, unequivocally, sorry . . . and wrong.”

He stared at her. “That’s a lot of big words just to say sorry.”

She shrugged and now, a genuine smile appeared. “Does it show how big I messed up?”

“It does. And for the record,” he reached out, tucked away a strand of hair the wind had tugged free, “it always matters when you love. When you say it out loud.”

She brought her hand up, touched his.

“You’re the only woman I’ve said it to. And I meant it.”

“Which makes what I did even worse.”

“Which makes it even harder to swallow, yes. But I do understand. I have family, people that mean the world to me, and I can’t imagine if they experienced what you have, what your kids went through. And I don't like that it’s happening to you. Because I love you.”

“You do?”

“I do.”

Her whole body seemed to relax, the tension dropping away as quick as the rain fell. It changed her entire demeanor, giving her a soft, peaceful look that, to Ben, was an interesting contrast to the war Mother Nature raged feet beyond.

“I am so relieved, so
happy
to hear you say that. I love you,” she moved her lips to his unshaven cheek, brushed it softly. "I love you,” then the other cheek. “I love you.” Then, the lightest, sweetest kiss to his lips. "I trust you, too. You were right about that by the way.” She smiled, placed her hand to his face. He leaned into it, brought each finger to his lips, and kissed them.

Dropping her head to his chest, she rested against him. And as quick as that, all was forgiven.

He encircled her with his arms, felt content and right as she wound hers around him, as he listened to the storm’s power and strength, enjoyed its song and rhythm.

“I have something else to tell you,” Jenna said abruptly. “Something I’ve never told anyone before. Not my mother or Robin, not even the man I was married to for a decade.”

TWENTY

He drew her back, looked down at a face that worry had captured again.

“I hate to bring it up now. But I really have missed you and I’ve wanted to bounce this idea off you, see if what I’m thinking makes sense. Since my track record’s not so good there.”

He would’ve said something about forgiveness, about how he wasn’t going to hold this over her head, but she was already rushing forward, wrapped up in words that brought her obvious distress.

“I have a new theory. On all this, I mean. I think someone’s punishing me. That maybe I deserve everything that’s happened."

He frowned. “What in the world could you have ever done to deserve this?”

“Killed someone.”

“
You
killed someone.”

She blew out a breath, weaved her fingers together and tugged at them. “Hurt them, killed them. A baby. Well, possibly a baby. Maybe more than one.” Her eyes searched the floor now, her toes fidgeting against the damp boards. "It’s haunted me for years. And now I’m afraid my fears have become reality. That someone is after me for my mistakes and ignorance. Willing to hurt me for them. Maybe worse?"

“Here,” he brought her slender hand to his, intertwined their fingers, “come and tell me about it. As you've made it your life’s work to help babies and their mothers, I can’t see how you’d be killing them.”

He led her to the swing situated in the turn of the porch. Rubbing his hand over the seat, ensuring the blowing rain had yet to reach it, he sat, pulled her down beside him.

As he pushed the floor with the toe of his boot, the swing began a lazy sway and she began to speak. “Remember how I told you I worked somewhere else before Hearts and Hands? How there was a long story related to why I transitioned from more of a medical role to an educational and supportive one?”

He nodded once and though she wasn’t looking at him, she continued on.

“Here’s why. I was young and inexperienced when I first began to practice. But I was passionate, too. I wanted to help everyone I saw, and with the boldness that only youth and arrogance can bring, I thought I could. Thought I would with my education, my degree, my knowledge. Working in the capacity I did, I was also used to seeing almost instant results—diagnose, prescribe, and boom, the patient was better. Rash gone, sinus infection cleared, all is well. But in the perinatal world, especially where depression is concerned, much of the treatment involves time, support, emotional healing. Even so, there are severe cases. And those patients need medical help, often times through medication, drugs.

“As one of the few people on staff who could write prescriptions, I received those patients.
Antidepressants got results, so that was my go-to.”

“I get that,” Ben added when she paused. “I’ve seen it take its toll on Heidi and my brother. Most people would get it. I don’t see where a mistake from you factors in here?”