Authors: Michele Paige Holmes
She ignored him, determined not to get into another argument—fun though those sometimes were—for the rest of the evening.
“So how long have you all been in Ohio?” Tara asked.
“Five years,” Ben said.
“I was raised here,” Josh said.
“I’ve only been here since February,” Deb said. “I needed a change of pace, and Ben had invited me several times, so I finally decided to come see for myself what all the fuss was about.” She favored Ben with a pretty smile.
“It’s very beautiful here,” Tara said, working to push down a spurt of jealousy trying to surface. “I can see why you like it.”
“Ohio has been very good to me.” Deb stared across the table at Josh, busy digging into an enormous helping of mashed potatoes.
“Where are you from?” Deb asked.
“Los Angeles,” Ben said, answering for her.
“Seattle,” Tara corrected him and kept her annoyance to herself. “That’s where I was raised and where I live now. I left Los Angeles last spring.”
“Job transfer?” Josh mumbled as he chewed.
Tara shook her head. “Not exactly.” Purposely being evasive, she bit into her biscuit. She didn’t want to say any more right now. Later, she hoped, she’d get the opportunity to talk alone with Ben and to make her request.
“You weren’t let go, were you?” Ben put his elbow on the table and leaned forward, as if suddenly eager to hear her life story. “The economy’s awful everywhere, but I imagine the real estate market in LA must be extra tough.”
“I wasn’t laid off.”
So much for later.
“I quit when I was asked to fire several other people.”
Josh whistled. “Bet that took guts.”
She smiled at him. “Thank you. It turned out to be a very wise decision.” She attacked her chicken again, hoping the conversation was closed.
For some reason, Ben persisted in keeping it open. “What are you doing now?”
You’ll never believe it.
Tara kept her explanation as simple as possible. “I sell things online,” she said. “It started as kind of a fluke. I had a bunch of clothes I was getting rid of.”
Long story, that.
“And I did very well pricing them and selling them on eBay. Then I figured out that I could list things for other people and take a cut. Often people are simply too busy to sell things themselves.” She stopped, uncomfortable with the look Ben was giving her.
“That’s your
job
? eBay?”
“What’s wrong with that?” Tara asked, unable to keep the defensive tone from her voice. “It’s not stressful like real estate was. I may never be rich doing it, but I’m not doing badly. I have everything I need.”
“Like your old Jeep?” His voice held a hint of scorn.
Tara stared at him. “It’s not mine. A friend offered to let me use it.”
“To drive all the way across the country?” Ben whistled. “Nice friend.”
“I left my BMW for her to use,” Tara said, wondering just what he was getting at. “I wanted something a little more . . . rugged . . . for the trip.”
And so I wouldn’t show you up when I arrived at your humble farm
, she wanted to add but didn’t. Try as she might, it didn’t seem she and Ben could have a conversation without emotions and tempers involved. Now she was the one who couldn’t let it go.
“What does it matter what kind of car I’m driving or where I work?” she asked. “Last December you mocked me because of my big-city, pampered-girl lifestyle. I’m not like that anymore, but I guess I should have realized that just because I’ve changed doesn’t mean you did. You still look down on me and think you’re so much better.” She stood and pushed back her chair. “You know what? I didn’t come here to argue.” She threw a quick glance to either side of the table, to Deb and Josh’s shocked faces. “Sorry.”
“Why
did
you come here?” Ben asked. He stood, facing her across the table. “What on earth
possessed
you to drive clear across the country—in an old, borrowed car?” His tone of voice told her he didn’t believe her story.
Does he think I’m down on my luck or something?
Tara felt tears building behind her eyes as she met his gaze. “Nothing,” she said quietly. “There was nothing on
earth
that could have done that. It was a much greater power. One that you hold.” She paused, not wanting to say this now. Not wanting to ruin what she had hoped would be a wonderful, remember-for-the-rest-of-her-life moment. But it was too late. She’d already ruined everything. Again.
“I had hoped you would use it to baptize me.”
Thirty-Nine
Immediately following Tara’s departure, silence descended on the kitchen. Even Josh had stopped eating, though he still held his fork aloft, clutched in his unmoving hand. They all stared at the empty doorway in a dazed sort of way. Deb was the first to recover and find her voice.
“You.” She pointed her knife at Ben. “Are a total jerk.”
“
Baptized?
” Ben was sure his face revealed the shock he felt. “Tara wants me to
baptize
her?”
“Not anymore, I’d wager.” Josh put down his fork, picked up a drumstick, and bit into it.
Deb wrinkled her nose and frowned at him. “How can you eat at a time like this?”
“Like what?” he mumbled through a bite of food.
“That poor woman is upstairs, crying, no doubt, and you’re stuffing your face like some—”
“Pig?” Josh grinned at her.
“She’s not some poor woman,” Ben said. “Don’t let her act fool you. She’s critical and bossy and vain, and I
can’t
believe she really wants to be baptized. There’s something else going on. She’s after something.”
“You?” Josh suggested.
Ben shook his head. “In the past, she’s made her opinion of farmers—or anyone vaguely related—clear. Very uncouth in the company she keeps.”
“What makes you so sure she isn’t telling the truth about getting baptized?” Deb asked.
“Because I know her,” Ben said. “She’s the complete opposite of what a Latter-day Saint is supposed to be. She’s selfish and worldly and temperamental and spoiled. I can’t imagine the things that would have had to happen for her to want to join the Church.
“She sure didn’t seem to be any of those things today,” Josh said.
“People can change, Benji.” Deb reached for his hand, but he pulled away. “You’ve got to stop letting your mom taint every relationship you’re in.”
“My mom has nothing to do with this,” Ben said. “And I never had a relationship with Tara.”
“He just kissed her.” Josh winked at Deb.
Ben glared at him. “That’s one mistake I won’t be making again.”
* * *
An hour later, when the dinner dishes had been washed, dried, and put away, and he’d swept the floor and wiped down the counters and done every other chore he could think of, Ben headed up the stairs to his room. Tara had not left the house, but she also hadn’t come downstairs again. He worried she’d sneak out sometime during the night, leaving him without a chance to apologize. And he wanted to apologize. While he still didn’t believe her, he also couldn’t deny that he’d been rude and unkind during dinner. He needed to tell her he was sorry. He wanted to feel as if he were in the right of things again.
He wanted to know what Tara was really up to.
Ben trod carefully on the steps, hugging the wall as he went, so as not to put weight on any of the squeaky boards. Maybe if Tara thought he was still downstairs, she’d get tired waiting to leave and fall asleep. Then, in the morning, he could figure out what this was all about. If she really did need help, well . . .
It won’t be the first time.
He thought of the ten thousand he’d emptied out of his bank account five months ago and all the promise for the future he’d felt when doing it. To this day he still didn’t completely regret the decision. McKenzie and her two children had needed help. And he’d been only too happy to give it. Too happy to fly them out to Ohio, to have them close by for a couple of months. To pretend for a short while that they belonged together.
To start to believe he could fall in love again.
To remember that women—his adoptive mom and sisters being the only exceptions he could think of—were not to be trusted. Ever.
Especially one he’d seen in action before. Tara had been able to turn on the tears at will last December. The months since then would have only given her time to perfect her technique.
Ben’s face was grim as he passed her door. He wasn’t going to fall for it, for her. No matter how much he’d thought about her—
and that stupid kiss
—since last December, he wasn’t going to let himself be used again. He’d find out what she needed, and then he would help—or not—on his terms.
On my terms.
He liked the sound of that, the thought of being in control again. Exactly what he hadn’t felt all afternoon since seeing Tara seated at his kitchen table.
Forty
Deb returned from showering and flopped onto her bed. She glanced over at Tara, lying perfectly still in the bed across the room beneath the eaves. “I’ve never seen Ben like this. I’m sorry he was so rude tonight.”
“I bring out the worst in him.” Tara rolled to her side, facing the wall. She hoped Deb would take the hint and leave her alone. She didn’t feel like talking to anyone right now. She would have gone somewhere else for the night, but she didn’t trust herself not to get lost this far out in the country in the dark.
“Why is that, do you suppose?”
“I’m lucky that way,” Tara said sarcastically.
What does she expect me to say to that?
“I seem to bring out the worst in just about every man I’ve ever known.”
Maybe if I’d had a dad around, things would’ve been different. I’d have had a role model, someone to help me figure men out.
“Do you?” Deb asked. “Do you have other guys scattered around the country who are as madly in love with you as Ben is?”
Tara made a sound somewhere between a snort and a sob. “Ben isn’t in love with me. You don’t need to worry. I’m leaving tomorrow morning. You’ll never see me again, and you guys can go on and have your wedding and your happily ever after.”
“
What?
” A few seconds later the mattress sagged, and Tara rolled over to find Deb sitting on the edge of the bed. “Ben’s my brother.”
“That’s not funny,” Tara said. “In fact, it’s sicker than naming a pig Ham.”
Deb threw her hands up in the air. “All this time—today—you thought I was marrying
Ben.
Eeww.”
“You were grocery shopping together,” Tara said. “And there was that whole bit about you touching Ben and the pig being jealous. You’ve got that rock on your finger. You
live
here.”
“Like I could do that if we were engaged,” Deb said.
Tara stared at her, realizing she told the truth.
Ben
isn’t
engaged.
For a brief second she felt almost giddy. Only Deb’s eyes narrowing suspiciously kept Tara from laughing out loud.
“If you were a member of our church or had investigated it, you’d know two unmarried people can’t live together.” Deb’s voice was accusatory.
“I’d forgotten,” Tara said. “To the rest of the world, living with someone is perfectly acceptable. I forget everything that’s taboo sometimes.”
“That’s kind of a big one,” Deb said, still skeptical. She rose from the bed, bent over, and removed the towel from her hair.
“It is, isn’t it?” Tara said, disturbed by how easily she’d forgotten. If she’d thought about it, then much earlier she might have realized Ben wasn’t engaged, and her emotions might not have been running so high.
I might not have blown my one opportunity to ask Ben to baptize me and to make amends for the way I acted last December.
Though Ben had been rude, Tara felt the most disappointed with herself.
I should have waited. Should have tried to explain things better.
Twelve days and 2,400 miles for nothing.
“But you are engaged?” she asked, hoping to change the subject and take her mind off her misery. “Or are diamonds that size standard accessories for farmgirls in Ohio?”
Deb was still towel-drying her hair, but she turned her head to the side so she could see Tara.
“I’m engaged to Josh. I’d have thought that was pretty obvious. I kissed him on the porch in plain sight this afternoon, and we were flirting shamelessly during dinner. I guess you didn’t notice those things?”
“No.” Tara grimaced.
Now that we’ve established I am an unobservant, forgetful idiot.
“Congratulations,” she said sincerely. “When’s the wedding?”
Deb finished drying her hair and stood up. “We haven’t decided on a date yet. We’d like to get married soon, but . . .”
“What?” Tara asked, knowing full well that Deb wanted her to ask.
“I’m worried about leaving Ben all alone. It’s bad enough he talks to the pigs when I’m around. If he’s here by himself, I’m afraid things will get even worse.”
“Worse—how?” Tara asked. She leaned up on one elbow and gave Deb her full attention.
“I’m worried his depression will come back,” she said. “Summer was rough, and I’m not sure he’s completely recovered. Which is why Josh and I haven’t set a date.”
“Why was summer rough?” Tara asked.
Bad crops?
It couldn’t be the pigs. Josh had as much as told her that Ben had the best around here.
Deb tossed her towel on the back of a chair and climbed into her own bed. “It’s not my place to say anything. If Ben wants to tell you, he will.” She twisted the knob on the hurricane lamp on her night table, leaving the room in darkness.
“I’ll be surprised if Ben tells me so much as good-bye tomorrow morning,” Tara said.
“We’ll see,” was Deb’s only reply.
I wanted to see
, Tara admitted to herself.
I wanted to see Ben again, to see if my changing made any difference at all.
She frowned into the dark as a new, unwelcome thought crossed her mind.
Maybe that’s why everything went so wrong tonight.
Had she wanted Ben to baptize her just to show him she’d changed, that she was better than she’d been when he last saw her?