Authors: Michele Paige Holmes
How much?
was what she couldn’t figure out how to answer.
Her own emotions were easy enough to decipher. She’d been head-over-heels in love with him long before she’d even realized it. Even more than that, she respected him. He was honest, hardworking, kind, generous. And that only scratched the surface of his noble character. Which worried her. If LDS singles ran
The Bachelor,
Ben could be the star. He could have any woman he wanted.
So why would he want me?
It was a question she didn’t care to dwell on.
Aside from her relationship with Ben, life was entering a new rhythm far better than the previous. Unfortunately, she feared it still forecast a lot of lonely days.
She hoped that at least Christmas would be good this year. Since picking Ben up at the airport, she’d been toying with the idea of asking him to return at the end of next month. She planned to pitch the idea as a way for her to make up for how awful she’d been the previous December. With a little luck, it might just work.
Tara watched as Ben held Jane’s baby like a pro. He had the makings of an excellent dad. It really was too bad things hadn’t worked out for him and McKenzie.
Who am I kidding? I’m thrilled it didn’t work out for them.
Tara sighed as she felt a little more of her perfect cleanliness wash away.
Bummer that even our thoughts count against us.
She stood and followed the guys into the other room.
“Look who’s here.” Jane came in a minute later with two people Tara hadn’t met. More family, no doubt, though there were already too many here for Tara to begin to keep track. The newcomers didn’t quite seem to fit in with the rest of the family. They looked younger than most of Jane’s siblings and didn’t appear to have any kids with them. They made a striking couple, though completely different in looks, with her blonde hair and fair complexion beside his darker hair and looks. When they greeted the family, Tara thought she detected a slight accent.
“Hi, Jay. Sarah.” Peter set Ella in her car seat on the table and came over to shake their hands. “You made it.”
“We did,” Sarah said. “Actually, we flew in last night. We spent the day going through Jay’s storage unit.”
“We’re shipping what we want to keep and getting rid of the rest,” Jay explained.
“Which means you’re not returning to Seattle anytime soon,” Jane guessed.
“Probably not,” Jay said. “And this trip is short. We needed to work on the unit today because Sarah has to be back for a concert Saturday night.”
Jane turned toward Tara. “Tara, Ben, these are our good friends Sarah and Jay. They live in Boston but occasionally remember those of us out West.”
“
Occasionally
, as in most major holidays for the past couple of years.” Jay stuck his hand out to shake Ben’s.
“Jay was my law intern the summer before he graduated,” Peter explained. “We keep hoping we’ll get him here permanently.”
“We may get back here someday,” Jay said. “But right now Sarah’s having some fantastic opportunities with her music, and we’ve got to pursue those dreams first.”
Tara greeted each of them, deciding as she did that it wouldn’t be too awful a breach of etiquette to mix business with social tonight. “If you’ve got things in your storage unit you’d like to sell or just want to get rid of, I can help you.”
“That would be great,” Sarah said enthusiastically. “We hardly have any time to go through it, but we’d like to clear it out so this is our last month of rent.”
“We’re buying a house,” Jay announced, grinning.
“Kill my hopes,” Peter said, shaking his head. “But that’s great. Quickest way to a woman’s heart—” he took Jane’s hand— “is to buy her a house.”
“With a
yard
,” Jane added.
“You may have to come out and work on ours,” Jay said. “It’s an older home, but the front room is big enough for a grand piano.”
“When we can afford it,” Sarah said, though her eyes sparkled with excitement at the possibility.
“Let me help you earn some cash for that piano,” Tara said. “I’m pretty good at selling things to local stores and online. Remind me to give you a business card before you leave.”
“I will, and thanks,” Sarah said then followed Jay around the room to say hello to the rest of Jane’s family.
Tara noticed that Jane’s sister Caroline was the only one who didn’t give a warm welcome to Jay. She thought that was a little odd, but then, from what she knew of Caroline, she’d always been her own, outspoken, opinionated person.
Kind of like me.
The thought was comforting.
Maybe the gospel really is for those of us who are less than perfect.
Jane’s dad stood at the head of the table and explained the rules of the game. Then he turned to Tara and Ben. “Since this is your first time as our guests, you get the honor of sitting at the head of the table and being the Great and Lesser Dalmutis first.”
“But not for long,” one of Caroline’s sons called out.
“That’s what you think.” Ben stood then held his hand out for Tara. “Come, my queen. Leave the peasants behind.” They walked to the end of the room, and Ben pulled a chair out for her. “Ladies first. You get the greatest honor.”
“Why, thank you.” Tara sat and stared haughtily at her royal subjects. “Isn’t there supposed to be a back massage or something with this position?”
“Hey, you’re off the bench, aren’t you?” Peter yelled. He and Jane were at the far end of the table, seated on one of the hard, backless benches.
Ben took the chair beside Tara, and Jane’s dad reached into the plastic tub. “For you.” He placed a Burger King crown on Ben’s head. Tara could tell where fake jewels and sequins had once adorned it. She laughed.
“Our kingdom must be poor.”
“We’d better increase the taxes,” Ben said.
“And for you, milady.” Brother Warner removed an equally appalling cone-shaped purple princess hat. Tara tried to place it on her head, but it fell off—twice.
“First day on the job, and your head is already too big,” Ben teased.
Tara glared at him. “We’ll see who stays a Dalmuti longer.”
“We need to find something else for you to wear.” Ben stood and pulled her up. He removed his crown and set it on the person nearest him. “Start without us. We’ll jump in next round.” He towed Tara toward the front room. “I know just the thing. It’ll be much better. It’s
you
.”
“Back in a minute,” she called over her shoulder.
“I doubt it,” Peter said.
“Take your time,” Jane called, sounding amused.
Ben led her to the now-deserted front room and pulled a book-sized cardboard box from the top of the piano. “I saw this at a thrift store, and I thought of you.”
“You know, that hat in the other room wasn’t so bad.” Tara imagined the sort of atrocity Ben likely held in his hands. He’d only been in Seattle since Tuesday, and
already
he’d had time to find a thrift store? “If it’s going on my head, I hope you at
least
disinfected it.” She sighed loudly, remembering the Minnie Mouse fleece he’d crowned her with last December. “Let’s get this over with.”
“What? No tantrum, no tears? No ‘Forty-seven bucks and an hour at Sears is abuse’ line?’”
Tara folded her arms and shook her head. “We’re not talking about buying underwear. It’s a
game
.”
“You’ve changed, Tara.” Ben lifted a hand, as if to reach out to her and pull her close but hesitated at the last second. “And this isn’t a game anymore. Peter and Jane just helped arrange that convenient setup.” He opened the box and took out a sparkling silver tiara.
She gasped and reached for it. Ben handed it to her. It was heavier than she’d expected, and examining it closely, she noticed a slight tarnish on some of the inner curves.
Sterling silver?
“If you’re finding this kind of stuff at thrift stores, we need to go shopping together. This diamond looks real.”
“Could be,” Ben said casually. “I bought the tiara at an antique store the week after I flew home from Seattle.”
“You made an incredible find.” Tara stared at him. “It’s stunning, Ben. Absolutely beautiful.”
“Like you.”
She didn’t know what to say to that but felt herself flush with pleasure.
Ben set the box aside and took one of her hands in his.
“As I said—this isn’t a game.” All teasing was gone from his voice, and the tender expression he’d worn earlier was back.
“Ben?”
What’re we doing here?
“Once, I told you your name should be Tiara, because you were—”
“A spoiled princess,” she whispered, ashamed by the memory.
“It was an awful thing for me to say,” he hurried on. “But I still think you should have a tiara, because as you’ve discovered this year, you are a daughter of God—a princess who stands to inherit all the many blessings He has in store.”
Tara felt tears building behind her eyes. Her embarrassment fled, replaced by a rush of love for Ben, the one who really deserved a crown, the one who’d been named after a noble king and exemplified so many of the characteristics of his namesake.
“If it wasn’t for you, I might never have discovered that,” she said.
Ben gave her a wry smile. “I remain astonished that, in spite of me, you
did
.”
She laughed then pressed her lips together to quiet her nerves.
“Tara, will you accept this tiara from me and consent to be
my
princess, my bride?” He paused, searching her face for an answer. “My wife.”
Your wife?
She tried but couldn’t find her voice to ask the question, to be certain he was real, that he’d just asked her to marry him. Moments like this only happened to people like Jane. Good, deserving people who wore flannel nightgowns and were always honest and never longed for a drink and hadn’t done all the hundreds of awful things—
“You want to marry
me
?” Tara blurted.
“There’s no one else around here.” Ben’s smile was wide as he looked around the room.
“But I’m so—
flawed
.” And though she’d been baptized just yesterday, though she’d been washed clean, she knew that what she said was true. Her thoughts weren’t always pure—or even charitable. She was still impatient and temperamental. She’d probably mourn the loss of her old wardrobe the rest of her life. She didn’t think she could handle being a mom to half a dozen kids—maybe not even one. She wasn’t
wife
material.
“I love your imperfection,” Ben said. “It matches my own.”
She snorted. “You don’t come close.”
He took the tiara from her hands and placed it on the piano.
“You don’t know,” he said, quietly serious again.
But she did. She knew all that Ellen had confided to her during that long ride to Denver. Ben had problems too. Like her, his past was full of pain and difficulty. Those things had haunted him before, and someday they might again. But that didn’t matter to her, not in the least. If there ever was another time in the future when Ben was sick or hurting, she wanted to be there for him.
“I do know,” she said. “Ellen told me everything. About your mom and your engagement . . . All of it.” She stopped, aware of the pain filtering through his eyes.
“I see.” He stepped back in a weary, defeated sort of way.
“Wait,” Tara said. “What, exactly,
do
you see—besides me and all my imperfections that you love?”
He shrugged. “I’ve got a family history of—instability. It’s asking a lot—too much—for someone else to live with that. It’s probably for the best if I face up to that and am content to spend my life living with pigs.”
Tara poked a finger at his chest. “Don’t go comparing me to a pig.”
“Don’t mess with me, Tara. I was serious about this—about us. I wanted to tell you everything about my past. I wanted to take it slow, for both our sakes.”
“
Wanted
? What’s not to want now? I am serious about us. You didn’t give me a chance to say so, to say yes.” She paused, willing him to look at her.
Ben picked up the tiara and held it in his hands, his fingers running over the curls and curves and pieces of glass. “You were right. This one is real.” His thumb brushed over a princess cut diamond in the center of the tiara. “I picked it out for you, but I didn’t want to put it in a ring yet.” He met Tara’s surprised gaze. “I knew we both still needed some time. But I wanted you to know, I wanted us to start—”
Tara reached out, touching both the stone and his hand. “It’s beautiful.” She blinked back tears and prayed for the right thing to say, to make this better.
Only I could botch what should have been the perfect proposal.
“I would be honored to be your wife, Ben. If you can love me, in spite of knowing me when I was at my worst, then I think I should be allowed to love you, even though I’ve heard about the hardest part of your life.” She paused, waiting for him to acknowledge her acceptance of his past, to say something romantic or to kiss her. He did neither.
Tara tried again. “Ben, we’re not going to be like your parents or the Warners—or even Jane and Peter. I’m high maintenance, and you may have to deal with anxiety or depression sometimes, but we can be
us
with each other. And we can be happy. I know it.”
A corner of his mouth lifted, and Ben looked up at her, nodding his head slightly. “Yeah. I know it too.” He raised the tiara, and she bent forward so he could place it on her head. Then he stepped back to look at her.
“Even more beautiful on you.”
Tara reached for him, grabbed the front of his shirt, and pulled him close, covering his lips with hers. But her kiss was soft and gentle and sweet, just like that first kiss he’d given her on the mountain. She felt the magic again, much more than the chemistry between them, but all the deep, abiding love he felt for her and she for him.
When their kiss ended, Tara’s cheeks were wet with tears, and she kept her arms around Ben, hugging him tight. “When did you first think you loved me?”
“Um—at the barn dance?”
“It took you
that
long?” She reached up, pretending to take off the tiara.