Dragonfly Creek (24 page)

He could tell the pain was still fresh for her, from the way her mouth tightened.

“I imagine it was very difficult for all of you.”

“It isn’t a period of time that I like to dwell on.”

Ben hesitated, but he was curious about something. “You were raised very conservatively. So was I. How is it that you’re comfortable with Jonah’s sexuality? Not that I’m condemning him, or Doug, as that isn’t my right. But it can’t have been easy for you.”

She stubbed out the cigarette and sat back on the couch with a sigh. “It wasn’t, at first. But after Mexico, when we all had to lean on each other so much, I came to see them as Jonah and Doug—not two gay men. Their sexual preferences were none of my business. I don’t have to approve of the lifestyle in order to love the people. Does that make sense?”

“It does.”

“So what else do you want to know?” she asked. She looked as worn out as he felt, and Ben felt guilty just for asking. But he had to know everything.

“Mom told me about the miscarriage. About what caused it, I mean.” He felt sick just thinking about it. “I’d kill your mother if she were still here, for doing that to you. To us.”

“I thought Doug was going to. Jonah and Byrdie had to physically restrain him from going after her. They talked him off the ledge, so to speak.” She rested her head against the back of the couch. One finger traced the faded floral pattern. “I was serious when I told you I’d never be able to have children. And given my history, with the addiction, adopting is probably out. That’s something you should be aware of.”

The desolation in her posture was heartbreaking to see. Ben moved so that he was facing her, leaning against the cushions. He propped his head on his left hand, and with the exposed fingers of his right hand, he touched her arm.

“Do you want kids?”

Ainsley half-smiled. “I don’t know. Some days, yes. Some days, no. There are a lot of things in my past I’d rather not pass on, and honestly, I’m not sure I’d make a good mother. I’m a big risk. I’ve tried to not even think about having children in the last few years. There didn’t seem to be a point. What about you?”

Ben owed her nothing less than the truth. “I want kids. The idea of not having kids someday is just a really weird thought to even entertain.”

She raised her hand and touched his cheek softly. “That’s a big hurdle for us, then.”

“It is.” He put his hand on her waist and tugged. She obliged him by scooting toward him and turning so that her leg rested across his. “Would you feel the same way about our child? The one we lost?”

“Oh, Ben.” Her eyes grew damp, but she sniffed the tears back. “Don’t do that to yourself. Don’t play the ‘what if’ game. It will eat you alive, and it does no good.”

“I can’t help it. I’ve been playing that game for five years. I’m used to playing it.” He closed his eyes as she ran her hands over his shoulders in a comforting caress. “There are some things you should know. I have a few confessions of my own to make, while we’re laying everything out.”

Her hands stopped, and he opened his eyes. Her face was full of trepidation. “I’m afraid to ask.”

He gave a small laugh. “I’m afraid to tell. So I guess we’re in good company, huh?”

“I guess so.”

As he tried to figure out the words to explain the truth about his family and their abilities, he wondered if he was doing the right thing. If they didn’t end up together, she had no need to know. When he realized he was doing the same thing she’d done earlier, which had upset him, he shook his head at himself.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just thinking how perspective can change perception.”

Ainsley blinked. “Now that’s philosophical.”

Deciding the only way to tell her was to just tell her, he started the story. He just hoped the telling went well. Otherwise, he might find himself in a straightjacket.

“Once upon a time, there was this reclusive writer…”

Chapter Thirty-One

W
hen Ben told her he had confessions of his own, Ainsley’s anxiety flared. She did her best to push it down, but she was terrified he was going to tell her he had a wife or fiancé somewhere. Instead, he started out as though telling a story to a child.

“Once upon a time, there was this reclusive writer. He lived by himself on a mountain, and he never thought he’d find anyone to love him. But he did. And despite the fact that he had some unusual abilities, the girl he had met fell in love with him, much like he had her.”

Ainsley stopped him with a soft smile. “Are you talking about your parents?”

Ben smiled back, crookedly. “I am. Now, hush and settle in. Let me tell you the story.”

She goosed him. “Do I get milk and cookies if I’m a good girl?”

“If you want milk and cookies, yes. Now, where was I?”

“Your parents fell in love.”

He nodded. “They did. They fell hard. And it wasn’t easy, especially at first, because they had some issues to work through. Dad wasn’t upfront with Mom about some things, and that didn’t sit well, as you can imagine. But what he held back was so… unbelievable, so out of this world, that he was afraid if he told her everything, she’d run away from him screaming and never come back. Or worse, send men with pitchforks to finish him off.”

Ainsley frowned, though she kept his casted hand in hers and was rubbing his fingers absentmindedly. “That sounds ominous. What in the world could your dad have to hide that would cause that? They seem utterly devoted to each other.”

“They are.” He rotated his shoulders as if to loosen the tension. “I don’t know if your mother knew the whole truth or not. But one of the reasons that letter to the library board of directors caused such a ripple with us is because Dad really is a shapeshifter.”

She just stared at him, her mouth slightly agape, for several long moments. With a quick shake of her head, she laughed. “Seriously, what’s the secret?”

“That is the secret. One of them.”

“Ben, please. Don’t insult my intelligence.” She pulled away and stood up. Her arms crossed, she scowled down at him. “If you want out of whatever this is, you don’t have to make up some cock-and-bull story. Just tell me.”

He cursed under his breath and ran his hand over his hair. “It isn’t a cock-and-bull story. And yes, I realize how insane it sounds. But it’s the truth. Much like the ability your mother had, if I had to guess. It’s just part of who he is. Who we are. Though I’m not a shifter,” he hurried to add.

She was at a complete loss for words. Her mother had something most people didn’t.
But shapeshifting?

Ben wasn’t finished. “If memory serves, you read the H. O. McLemore books. That was something we talked about.”

“I have. I still have them at the farm, in the library. I’ve never stopped reading them. They were a connection to you, however tenuous.” She shook her head slowly. “You’re telling me that your father can do what Tobias Hedge does?”

Tobias, the boy in the books, took on the form of a deer and had adventures with a bobcat named Minerva and Hootie GreyFeather, an owl.

“Yes. And he can shift into a wolf, as well. The book where Toby meets the girl at the pond? That’s pretty much how my parents met. Only Mom didn’t know it until a couple of weeks before they got married.”

It was too much to take in. “I need to excuse myself.” Without waiting for his reaction, she fled to the bathroom. Inside, she sagged against the door, her mind racing in a big circle.

There was no way what he had told her was true. No way. It just wasn’t possible.

“Neither was Mother’s ability, and it was real,” she muttered. She thought about how Toby, who was slowly growing up over the breadth of the series, dealt with his dual nature. Being a shifter was just a part of who he was, and in Toby’s world, it was largely accepted that people could sometimes be more.
That
belief system was woven into the heart of Appalachian culture, and it made an odd kind of sense, really, that Owen would base his writing on something so magical and close at hand.

She made her way back to Ben, who was in the kitchen, getting himself a drink. He watched her warily—afraid, she realized—of what her reaction was going to be.

“So your dad is a shifter. What about your mom, your siblings?”

“Mom, no. John has a gift with numbers and patterns. Rachel and Amelia are both shifters. Emma’s completely normal, but she makes up for it in pure meanness.”

Ainsley laughed. “And what about you?” She was half-serious, half-indulgent, and the look he sent her told her he was aware of her disbelief.

“I have a thing with plants.”

“What kind of a thing?”

He turned and leaned against the counter, his arms crossed. “I can touch a plant and know its health, know what it needs. If it’s a plant I’ve never seen, I can get a read on what kind of properties it has. And if I go into this kind of trance, I can see the essence and perfume of flowering plants in the air.”

His face was red when he finished explaining, and his arms were crossed so tightly he was almost hugging himself. That, as well as the shuttered look on his face, told Ainsley more than anything that he was actually serious. She stepped over to him.

“You really believe what you’re telling me.”

He gave a tight nod. “I do. But you don’t.”

She scrunched up her nose. “I don’t
not
believe you. It’s just a lot to take into consideration.”

After a minute, he relaxed a little. “I guess it is. You’re the only person outside the family I’ve ever told. Growing up, Mom and Dad made sure we understood as soon as we were old enough that there were things we didn’t share with outsiders. Telling the wrong person could lead to, well… to something like what happened with your mother.”

He had a point. “Is that why you didn’t tell me five years ago?”

“No. I didn’t tell you then because, like Dad with Mom, I was afraid I’d scare you away. There is a chance, if we were to have children, that they could be shifters. It’s genetic. I would have told you, but I was still so shocked that you were with me to begin with, I was afraid to.” Since they’d been divided by that very secret, the irony wasn’t lost on Ainsley. He tried to smile, but it came out more as a grimace.

“And you didn’t think I might accidentally end up pregnant?” she asked gently. “Ben, what if I’d managed to bring that baby to term, and I hadn’t been able to get back to you? And what if it was a shifter? I don’t even want to think about how that could have turned out.”

He flinched. “Are you saying you wouldn’t have wanted my child if you’d known about my family?”

“No. That’s not what I meant at all.”

“You were on the pill. You were supposed to be safe. And I was too wrapped up in being with you to worry too much about the practicalities. Hell, if we’re being completely honest? I half wanted to get you pregnant so we would have to get married. I managed to do one of those things, just not the other.” He paused, as though a thought had just occurred to him. “How
did
you end up pregnant?”

His stare was challenging, and she realized he still had doubts about her role in the whole debacle. That stung.

“I started taking it less than a month before we were intimate the first time. Apparently, it takes up to six weeks before it’s fully effective. If you recall, I had to sneak to a clinic in Lexington to get the pill in the first place to try and keep Mother from knowing about it.”

She went back into the living room for another cigarette. The need for a drink or two was riding her hard all of a sudden, and by the time she got to her purse, her hands were shaking. Part of that was the withdrawal from the medicines she’d been on the last few days, and part of it was stress. She dug out her keychain, cursing her clumsy hands, and unhooked the medallion Jonah had given her on the first anniversary of her sobriety.

“Ainsley? Are you okay?”

She didn’t turn around. “Fine. I just need a minute.”

The craving hadn’t hit her this hard in a long time. She ignored Ben and let the need wash over her. Instead of fighting it, she let it come. Once it was had reached peak and started to ebb, she took in a deep breath, then started her breathing exercises. After several minutes, the gnawing desire for something to calm her nerves finally faded.

When she opened her eyes, Ben was standing beside her, his face etched with concern. She realized her hands were clenched together in front of her chest, and she forced them to relax. She had gripped the medallion so tightly that the pattern embossed on its surface was mirrored on her palm.

“Okay now?”

She nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize. Is there anything I can do?”

“No. I have to fight that demon on my own.” Exhausted, she sat on the couch. She couldn’t even muster the energy to light the cigarette. She tossed it onto the table and sat forward, resting her head in her hands.

Ben sat beside her and slid his uninjured arm around her. He stayed silent, but pulled her into him so that he was half supporting her. He placed soft kisses on her head, and she closed her eyes, letting the comfort he was offering soothe her.

“Does this happen a lot?” he asked after a few minutes.

“Not so much anymore. Usually only when I’m very stressed.” She looked up at him. “This last week hasn’t been anything approaching stress-free.”

“I haven’t helped.”

“You—” She struggled to find the right words. “No, but you didn’t mean to hurt. And for crying out loud, it hasn’t been a great week for you, either.”

“I’m okay.”

“Ben. Really?”

He shrugged. “No. Not even close. But I’m trying to be okay. I guess that’s what you’re doing, too.”

Ainsley smiled. “It is. And most days, it works.” Her stomach growled, surprising her and startling a laugh out of Ben.

“We should maybe think about some food.”

“Maybe.”

He suggested a local diner. “They’re open late. Food’s good.”

For a split second, she hesitated. She really didn’t feel like being out and about. But they were both hungry, and the diner would be neutral ground. Perhaps they could regain some equilibrium there.

“Lead the way.”

His pleased smile told her she’d made the right decision. “Yes, ma’am.”

Ben was a little surprised she had agreed to go, given her reluctance to be seen in public with him in the past. But he was relieved. A little shard of pain melted from his heart, and the pressure he’d been feeling for almost a week eased.

They didn’t say much as they headed to the diner and got a booth, then ordered their food. Ben figured Ainsley needed a little quiet time as much as he did. He took the opportunity to sift through the evening’s revelations.

The one thing that stood out in his mind was her hesitancy regarding children. When he had allowed himself to dream about the future, either with or without Ainsley, there had always been children. He adored his nephews, was eager for Emma’s little girl to arrive, and couldn’t imagine his own life without children in it.

But at the same time, he wanted Ainsley. He knew her concerns about her addiction were valid, but he did not share her concern about her being a bad mother. He just didn’t know how to convince her that they could conquer those particular demons.

By the time they had finished eating, some of the lines around her mouth had faded, and she looked more relaxed. Ben knew
he
felt better.

“So what now?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you want to go back to my apartment, your house, or somewhere else entirely?”

She leaned forward and rested her arms on the table. “I don’t know. You tell me. Where do
you
want to go?”

He thought about the pool at the farm and how he’d always wanted to take her there. This might be his only chance. “I think I know a place. If we can get a plastic bag here, how do you feel about a late-night swim?”

“I don’t have a suit.”

He smiled wickedly. “You won’t need one.”

Ainsley’s eyes widened, and a soft flush spread across her cheeks. “Ben, what are you thinking?”

“Trust me.” He held out his hand, and when she placed her fingers in his palm after just a few seconds, he felt another shard of hurt disappear.

A short time later, they pulled up at the farmhouse. It was close to nine o’clock, and the light had almost faded, but the half-moon was rising over the horizon. The rain clouds had moved on, leaving a clear sky in their wake.

“Wait here,” he told her as the porch light came on. “Unless you want to say hi to my folks?”

She shook her head, her hands going to her cheeks. “Not tonight.”