Point Pleasant (60 page)

“Nonsense,” Leslie said. “I couldn’t believe it when Nate read it to me this morning. Ben, it’s wonderful. I’ve read one of your books actually. The ghost story. Nicholas let me borrow his copy a while back. And my book club is voting on our next read this week. Your new one is on the list of candidates.”

“Please veto it,” Ben said, huffing out a laugh.

“Why?” Nicholas asked, sipping from his water glass rather than his wine. “Not a fan of your own writing?”

“Just that book.”

“I haven’t read it, yet,” Nicholas admitted.

“I’m sure it’s great,” Leslie said after swallowing a mouthful of food. “We’re our own worst critics.”

“True,” Ben said with a shrug. “I just got off the PR circuit for it. I’m probably just sick of the cover.”

Nicholas tilted his head in a curious gesture as if he realized for the first time that he had not thought to ask Ben about what he had been doing prior to his trip to Point Pleasant.

“But why do you use a different name?” Nate asked abruptly, eyeing Ben in a way that made him shift in his seat. Nicholas had obviously learned his most unsettling staring techniques from the original Sheriff Nolan. “You hiding out?”

“Not at all,” Ben said. “Dad asked me not to use Wisehart, so I got creative.”

Nate frowned and spared a furtive glance to his wife. “Sounds about right.”

“Dad,” Nicholas said with a sharpness that Ben had often used during his telephone conversations with Andrew.

“Preston James,” Leslie said, interrupting before they could go on. “Is that after Carrie?”

“That’s right,” Ben replied as he poked at his food. He caught himself and straightened in his seat.

Nicholas turned to Ben and furrowed his brow like he had just connected two very important dots, but he kept quiet.

“That’s lovely,” Leslie said. “She’d be so proud of you. And Kate.”

“I guess so,” Ben said, offering a small smile as he took a sip of wine.

“So what made you finally come home?” Nate asked. “World-weary?”

“I guess you could say that,” Ben replied.

“Are you staying long?” Nate pressed. His tone was casual, but there seemed to be some underlying current to the question that Ben could not parse. “In town, I mean.”

Ben noticed the reproving scowl that Nicholas shot his father and stored it away for later. “Yeah,” he said. “I think I am.”

“You are?” Nicholas asked, stilling with surprise.

“Of course he is,” Nate said with a certainty that Ben found jarring. “The funeral’s Friday.”

Dinner passed with further conversation, but Ben knew he was under the watchful eye of the former sheriff throughout most of it. He was just starting to wonder if he had done something wrong when Nate spoke up.

“Nicholas, why don’t you help your mother with the dishes. I bet Ben would like to see my motorcycle.”

Leslie let out a disgusted scoff and stood. “Say no, Ben. Just say no.”

“It’s a classic,” Nate said, guffawing at his wife with jovial indignation.

“I’d love to have a look,” Ben said. He sensed that Nate wanted to talk to him about more than a motorcycle and figured if he could confront an actual fallen angel, Nicholas’ father should be easy enough to handle.

Maybe.

“Better you than me,” Nicholas said. He clapped a hand to Ben’s shoulder as he stood and cleared the table.

Ben followed Nate through the kitchen to a side door that led onto the garage. Nate closed the door after them and walked to the motorcycle in question.

“Is that a Ducati?” Ben asked, and he whistled at the red trim.

“Ben, son,” Nate started, but he paused as if to find the right words. “What are you doing here?”

“Pardon?”

Nate let out a heavy sigh and regarded Ben with a shrewd stare. “I get it that you finally came home, which is all well and good. But what are you doing
now
? With Nicholas?”

“I don’t understand the question,” Ben said, shoving his hands in his back pockets to quell the urge to fidget with his belt loops.

“It took me a while before,” Nate said. “I thought it was just Lily. I thought he was so lost and broken because he’d called off the engagement. But then all the pieces started to fit better when I realized it was never Lily.”

Ben slid his hands further into his pockets. Nate took off his glasses and cleaned the lenses on the hem of his shirttail.

“Sir,” Ben started, but Nate held up a hand.

“I don’t think you fully understand me when I say
lost
and
broken
, Ben. That boy, he was not my son.”

Ben dropped his eyes to the floor and noticed an oil spot on the concrete. He felt an odd kinship with the stain as Nate continued.

“I don’t know what happened between the two of you before. I don’t know what your intentions are now. Nicholas’ either, for that matter. And it’s probably none of my business anyway. But you think long and hard about whatever they are. And if you do leave again, you better have the common decency to say goodbye this time.”

“Yes, sir,” Ben said, meeting Nate’s gaze.

“Good. Then we won’t have a problem.”

“It’s a beautiful bike, sir,” Ben said and gestured to the Ducati.

“It is,” Nate replied, though he continued to eye Ben with stern intent. “Maybe I’ll let you take it for a spin sometime if you stick around.”

“That’d be nice. But you’re missing a clutch,” Ben observed.

“Maybe I’ll let you replace it if you know so much.”

“I know enough.”

“How’s that Camaro of yours? Still drive it?”

Ben realized he had no idea what—if
anything
—Nicholas had told his parents about the night at the factory. As if on cue, Nicholas appeared.

“Need a rescue?” he asked with a grin. “He goes on and on about that stupid bike.”

“A man needs his hobbies,” Nate stated with a grumpy tone and rolled his eyes at his son.

“Uh huh,” Nicholas replied.

Nate reached over to swat at Nicholas’ shoulder, but Nicholas dodged the hit and laughed. Whatever tension that had risen between them during dinner seemed to have ebbed. The familiar twinge of jealousy Ben had always felt when he compared his relationship with Andrew to that of Nicholas’ with Nate slithered out from the rock it had been coiled beneath, and he turned his attention back to the Ducati.

“I should be getting Ben home,” Nicholas said. “It’s getting late.”

“Of course,” Nate said and led them back into the house. “It was good to see you, Ben. It’d be even better to see more of you.”

“And you, sir.”

Leslie met them in the entry hall and pulled Ben into another hug.

“Dinner was amazing,” Ben said. “Thank you for having me.”

“You’re always welcome at our table,” Leslie said and kissed Ben’s left cheek.

“Always,” Nate repeated and offered Ben a handshake.

Nicholas opened the front door and nodded to his parents. “Thanks for dinner. See you tomorrow, I’m sure.”

“I’m sure,” Nate drawled. “Good night, Nicholas. Ben.”

“Good night,” Ben said, giving them a final smile before he walked out onto the front porch.

The door shut behind them, and Nicholas tilted his head over to his car. A small, knowing smirk played at the corner of his lips. “Want a ride?” he asked. “Or would you prefer another walk?”

“Ride, please,” Ben replied with an awkward laugh. It was after ten o’clock and the temperature had dropped considerably.

Nicholas unlocked the doors and slid inside. Ben climbed into the passenger seat and was thankful when Nicholas flicked on the heating. The scanner rumbled with the muted voices of dispatchers and officers while Nicholas reversed out of the driveway.

“You seem happy,” Ben said, noting the absentminded grin on the other man’s face.

“I am happy,” Nicholas replied as he hung a left. “You came.”

Balmy air blew from the vents, and Ben felt even warmer when he noticed Nicholas’ fingertips thrumming against the steering wheel as if in time with a song only he could hear.

“It’s a nice night,” Nicholas said, nodding to the sky. “Don’t suppose I could convince you to go for a drive?”

“I think I could be persuaded,” Ben replied.

“That was easy,” Nicholas said, driving past the Wisehart house on Cardinal. “Where to, then?”

“Anywhere,” Ben said, peering out the passenger window as Nicholas turned right onto Main Street. Town Hall stood like an ivory sentry, its clock tower watching over the square and the charred husk of the Gazette.

Nicholas hummed in response and drove out to River Bend Road. The gentle whir of the heater mingled with the voices from the police radio and filled the easy silence between them. He veered onto a side road that was generally off limits according to a posted sign that warned against trespassers, but Ben supposed the sheriff could park his cruiser anywhere he damn well wanted.

Nicholas pulled to a stop at the end of the disused gravel lane, and Ben took in the view of the Ohio River before them.

The flickering lights of the cars on the other side of the river were charming in their scarcity. Most of Point Pleasant’s citizens were probably cozy underneath the comfort of their roofs, but not these drivers. Ben wondered how many of them were headed home for the night and how many of them were simply passing through.

Nicholas put the car into park and turned off the scanner, but he kept the engine running. He pressed a button on the main radio and adjusted the volume to a low drone. Ben eyed it warily, unsure of what might float out from the speakers, but he laughed when he heard the familiar chords of ‘Free Bird.’

“Well, that’s just bad timing,” Nicholas said, grimacing as Ronnie van Zant sang about moving on.
Ben continued to chuckle, and Nicholas smiled.

That boy, he was not my son.

“Nic,” Ben started, and Nicholas’ jovial mien immediately faltered.

“What’s the matter?”

“Earlier, what you said—”

“Which part?” Nicholas asked. “I said a lot.”

“The part where you think you have something to make up to me.”

Nicholas returned his hands to the steering wheel. He tightened them almost imperceptibly as if to steel himself for the worst.

“I have things to make up too,” Ben said. “You’re trying to take all the blame. I’m the one who left and didn’t come back. And I’ll never know what that did to you. Because I wasn’t here.”

“Ben, I’m the reason you left.”

“It’s no excuse for me being a coward.”

“You’re not—”

“We’re both to blame. You can’t think you have more to shoulder than I do. This won’t work if you keep carrying that around.” Nicholas frowned in response, but Ben continued. “I just want to say that
I’m
sorry. I should have come back sooner.”

“Yeah, you should have,” Nicholas said, staring off out the front windshield. Three sets of taillights glimmered in the distance. Down the river, lights from New Silver Bridge and the obelisk commemorating the Battle of Point Pleasant reflected in the dark, choppy waters of the Ohio.

Nicholas’ eyes raked over the water, but Ben could tell the other man was not really looking
at the sight before them. “You’re staying, then? For a while?”

“You want me to, don’t you?”

“Of course I want you to,” Nicholas said, regarding Ben with intent. “But is that what you want?”

“I want to be with you, Nic,” Ben replied without hesitation. The admission hung on the air between them like the dust particles he could make out in the cruiser’s headlights. “I’m not sure about Point Pleasant, but I’m sure about you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Nicholas turned back to the river in an attempt to hide the fresh grin that had usurped his tentative smile.

“Look at you,” Ben said with a gentle laugh.

“What? I’m happy.”

Good
, Ben thought. The idea of Nicholas smiling in such a way because of
him
reignited that same swell of joy from earlier.

Nicholas dropped his hands to his lap, and his shoulders relaxed, but his contentment was tempered with somber calculation. “We’ll take it as it comes, right?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“We’ll figure something out if you don’t want to stay.”

“What do you mean?” Ben asked.

“If you stay, you’re giving up a lot,” Nicholas replied. “You shouldn’t be alone in that.”

“Nic, you love this town.”

“I love
you
, Ben,” Nicholas said. “I want this to work.”

“Me too.”

“So we’ll just take it as it comes,” Nicholas repeated.

An older man’s voice replaced the music. “Arooooo!” he howled comically. “It’s Mike ‘The Wolfman’ Lupin, and you’re listening to 98.5 FM, Point Pleasant’s number one choice for classic rock.”

“Oh shit, Wolfman Mike’s still alive?” Ben asked, scoffing when he recognized the name.

“He is,” Nicholas tittered. “I swear, he still looks the same. He’s not the Wolfman, he’s Nosferatu.”

“Don’t even. If angels are real, God knows what explanation there is for Mike Lupin.”

“No kidding.”

“This town’s so weird,” Ben said after a moment.

Nicholas snorted, but he nodded in agreement. “Maybe it’ll inspire your next book.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin,” Ben said, glancing back to the river. “But hey, at least Point Pleasant won’t be swallowed up into some ferocious hellmouth, right?”

“At least,” Nicholas said, though something about the way he shifted in his seat told Ben that the sheriff was still unsettled by the events of the previous evening.

They slipped into another comfortable silence as Wolfman Mike faded into a commercial break.

“Hey, Nic?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I drive your car sometime?”

Nicholas erupted into laughter, and the hearty sound of it was everything Ben had always wanted but never knew he could have.

“Absolutely not.”

“Nic,” Ben said, lowering his voice and trying on an optimistic smile. “Come on.”

“No.”

“Not
now
,” Ben said, widening his smile. “Just sometime.”

“Ben, no.”

“Please?”

“It’s not gonna happen,” Nicholas said.