Scars Like Wings (A FAIRY TALE LIFE Book 4) Page 11

  “Nope… tonight, I’m your guest.” I looked around, hoping he was joking, but we were alone.

  Wait, was this a date? Surely this wasn’t a date! I took him in through a different lens; dark-washed Levi’s, black thermal shirt, heavy beige Carhartt jacket, and his usual black combat boots. Nope, same old Bennett, ruggedly casual with his I don’t care hair. It was definitely not a date.

  “And before you ask, no, this is not a date.” My jaw dropped. God, how’d he do that? “Do you remember back to the first barbecue night?”

  “Yeah, the night we met. That was the night you changed my tire.” And my life.

  Wait, what?

  “Right. Well, that night I was a guest. I was here to eat, because I needed food and didn’t have much.” His voice was bold and self-assured. And while I never wanted to believe that was the case, his revelation wasn’t a complete shock. “Do you want to know more?” I nodded. “Okay, ask away.”

  “Where are you from? Where did you grow up?”

  “Those are two very different questions. I’m from East Texas. I guess you could say my parents were in ‘sales.’ They dealt drugs from our living room.” I couldn’t rein in the gasp. “When I was in middle school, they were both arrested and sent away for a very long time, which left me with no guardians.”

  “So, then what?” I was intrigued.

  “So, I bounced around in the system a little, the typical ‘made for TV’ movie plotline, then I landed on a ranch for foster kids.”

  “Wait. Those exist?” I was fascinated. Bennett nodded.

  “Most of the kids were troubled, unadoptable. That wasn’t exactly the case for me, though. I wasn’t too much trouble and I was, in fact, eligible to be adopted, but no one really wants to adopt a kid with more facial hair by 5:00 than they can grow in three days.”

  The sun had started to set and the wind picked up, leaves swirling at our feet. I longed for my wool pea coat, which was still sitting in the passenger seat of my car. As if my thoughts were flashing on a neon sign above my head, Bennett placed his jacket over my shoulders. And, of course, as with anything in the proximity of Bennett Hanson, the scent of an evergreen forest in winter came with it.

  “So what happened?”

  “Well, I was kinda stuck there for a few years until I aged out.”

  Oh, my heart.

  “Was it awful? Were you safe?” My tone revealed more emotion than I was ready to admit. I could just picture Bennett, a sweet boy with no parents, just trying to find his place in this big world. I ached for the child he had been.

  “No, it wasn’t bad at all. I ended up living with a wonderful couple, Rosie and Doc, on a 600-acre ranch a little northwest of here. Rosie was a true Mexican mama in every sense of the word. She hovered, she worried, she fussed, she filled me with good food, and slapped me good when I gave her grief. She was exactly what I needed. Doc was different though. He believed in, ‘Walk softly and carry a big stick.’ Kids would be placed at the ranch after being kicked out of home after home, thinking they could run all over Doc. But I saw him set an egocentric little jackass straight a time or two and knew right away I wanted no part of Doc’s bad side.”

  “He sounds incredibly intimidating, and terrifying,” I mused. My parents had never been home. As long as I followed Nanny B’s rules, I was fine. And that was easy. She loved me like her own.

  “Yep. Exactly what I needed. But then I turned eighteen, and I had to figure something out.”

  Chapter 17

  Bennett

  “WHY? If Rosie and Doc were so great, why didn’t they let you stay?” I smiled, thinking back to those late night conversations with Doc as we mucked stalls or fixed loose boards. There was so much to be done on the ranch and there just weren’t enough hours in the day.

  “I could have stayed. In fact, Doc did all but beg me to stay on and work with the boys. I was good with them. They saw me as a peer and were more comfortable opening up to me. I thought about staying, but there was a whole, big world out there and I wanted to conquer it.”

  “And did you?” It seemed apparent that I hadn’t, seeing as how this entire conversation stemmed from my needing free food, but I saw it a different way.

  “Well, I did my damndest. I joined the United States Army. After basic, I spent a few weeks in Panama, nothing major. But then, the disturbance in the Gulf came about and it was no longer fun and games. Mine was one of the first troops on the ground over there and all of the sudden, I was playing with the big boys.”

  “Did you see a lot of action?” If she only knew.

  “More than I cared to, that’s for sure. When the battle finally came, we weren’t prepared… or at least not like I thought we would be. But you can’t dress rehearse a tragedy like that. My last day in battle, I lost my best buddy. We did everything together and, at least in the army, I didn’t know how to be me without him. That was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to go through.” Jillian’s eyes clouded over and I worried that she was thinking of the friend she lost. I hated to be the cause of her pain.

  “But now, you’re here. How did that happen?”

  “Well, after a delay in Germany, I made it back to the States and long story short, with nothing holding me back, I decided to give college a try.”

  “So, I’m confused. Didn’t you earn paychecks for serving?” I nodded. “How old are you?”

  “I’m twenty-two.”

  “Okay.” Her eyes rolled up as she mentally crunched the numbers. “So for roughly four years, you collected a paycheck, yeah? If you were active duty that whole time, then you had basically no expenses. Seems to me you’d have more than enough for a hot meal now, right?”

  “But, things aren’t always as they seem, as you’ve learned. You see, the ranch where Rosie and Doc lived was owned by an older gentleman and when he died, leaving no will, it became property of the state. But, the state had no use for an average plot of land in North Texas, so the whole ranch went up for auction.”

  “So, what? What happened?” Our food hadn’t even been touched. Jillian was hanging on my every word.

  “I bought the ranch, or at least half of it. Doc and Rosie were able to secure a loan for the other half.”

  “So, you spent your entire life savings to save a ranch for people you’d only known a few years?”

  “No, I invested my entire savings to save the ranch that saved me. And if that ranch saves one more child, or a thousand, it will have been worth every penny.” Phew. How I got through all of that without my eyeballs sweating, I will never know.

  “So, where do you live now?” And there it was, the one question I absolutely had to lie about. Jillian started to unpack our dinner and I thanked the Lord above for the distraction of food.

  “I have a small apartment in a building within walking distance of all my classes.” There. Not a lie. Not really.

  Dinner was delicious. In an insulated warming pot, we found thick beef stew with big chunks of red potatoes, carrots, and onions. Steam poured out as soon as I removed the lid and seconds later, Jillian was warming her hands on a bowlful while I shoveled it into my mouth like someone was about to steal it away.

  “Hungry, were ya?” she teased and I nodded, mouth too full to answer. She laughed. “Here, save room for these.” Jillian reached into the basket and pulled out a plastic wrap-covered plate, containing two of the most enormous brownies I’d ever seen.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll have room.” And for a second, just one second, I saw a flash of pity in her eyes, reminding me of who I was. The Princess and the Pauper, or Soldier, if I had to put an accurate label on it.

  In the end, Jillian gave me her brownie too, something about needing to fit into a dress, or something. With the remnants of what proved to be one of the best meals I’d had in months packed back into the basket, we returned to the kitchen.

  “How was everything?” Mrs. Lowe was just finishing the night’s dishes. The cafe menu had been chicken noodle soup and gril
led cheese, so I knew either she or Chance had made this meal specifically for us.

  “Perfect. Absolutely perfect.” Jillian replied with a satisfied sigh, placing her hand over her nonexistent stomach. Lillie Lowe beamed at her sincere words and I nodded in agreement.

  “I’m stuffed.” I rubbed my pooched-out belly for effect, making Jillian laugh for the second time that night. It scared me, how proud I was to have made her happy. I needed to get a rein on whatever the hell this was going on inside of me.

  Having everything under control at the cafe, Lillie shooed us off and I agreed to let Jillian drop me off at the library, as she had several times before. Pulling up to the curb, my usual drop-off point, she put the car in park.

  This is new.

  “Thank you for sharing your story.” Her words were soft, sincere.

  “You’re welcome.” Mine mirrored hers. She sucked in a deep breath, letting it out slowly through puckered lips, a good indicator she had something on her mind.

  In the army, I’d learned that a person’s words are only one communication tool, and a very unreliable one at that. Sure, hear the words, but watch the face, observe the body. That’s usually where the truth would shine through, often trumping the actual words to a degree. But all traces of light were gone, leaving in its wake a cloud-filled, inky sky. I could scarcely make out her features, thanks to the fluorescent lights on the street. And it was not enough to get a read on her.

  “You win.” Sorry, what was that again?

  “What?”

  “The bet. You win the bet.” Her breaths were coming quick, shallow, and almost as if she, herself, couldn’t believe what she was saying. The bet. I’d almost forgotten about the bet, so busy just enjoying being with her. It must have taken a lot to admit that and she certainly didn’t have to. She could have lied. How would I have known?

  “So, you’ll help with Thanksgiving?” I needed to tone down the excitement.

  I knew she had a family. Wouldn’t they miss her? When I initiated this ridiculous bet, I was one hundred percent certain I would lose.

  “Yep.” Her small smile was endearing, making my heart flutter like a caged bird. I squeezed my eyes shut, to clear my mind.

  “Okay. From what Chance explained to me the other night, the Lowes start on Wednesday night with the prep and meet the volunteers back up there around 9:00 Thanksgiving morning. Dinner is served at 6:00.”

  She nodded, and I grabbed the door handle to get out, then changed my mind. “Your whole day will be spent at the cafe. There won’t be time for you to go be with your family.” I paused, willing some night vision superpower to kick in so I could see her expression. I opened the door, just enough to make the dome light come on. She blinked several times, allowing her pupils to contract accordingly. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  Her face said nothing, but her steely eyes had water collecting in the corners. Was it from the cold, or something else? Cocking her head to one side, she nodded slowly, almost imperceptible. “More than anything else in the world.”

  The Community Cafe was closed the Wednesday before Thanksgiving to allow the volunteers to prepare for the flood of bodies that were expected to come through the doors the following evening. Lillie and Chance said they fed about three times their usual crowd each year and assured us that, if done properly, this meal would run just as smoothly as the rest of them. That remained to be seen.

  After class, I headed straight for the cafe and my heart jumped when a shiny blue BMW, parked in its usual space, came into view.

  Stop.

  I had to stop. This, whatever it was, needed to be extinguished. I was setting myself up for nothing but misery, letting these feelings grow. Shaking the thought from my head, I hurried in, out of the cold.

  The cafe felt alive, a cacophony of clatters and laughter creating a vortex of warmth and comfort. And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t miss the camaraderie of the army. I was finally finding my place and there was much to be thankful for this year.

  “Howdy.” I poked my head into the kitchen before putting my backpack in the office and grabbing an apron.

  I waved to a few people I recognized from the library, setting up portable tables and chairs in the dining room. A few more were filling salt and pepper shakers. Sports Talk was blaring on the radio.

  Lillie was washing vegetables at the small sink, then handing them over to Chance, whose cutting and chopping technique was more like a dance than a mundane task. The man was from New Orleans and master of his kitchen.

  “Where do you want me?” I asked, walking around to assess all the different preparation areas. Jillian was radiant. Her blonde hair was swept up in a loose bun, showing off her long neck, and those jeans… they deserved a standing ovation for how well they molded to her body.

  She’d been running water at the sink since I walked in the door and then turned toward the stove, carrying a large stockpot of water just as I was passing behind her. All at once and in slow motion, her boot caught on my retreating leg, causing water to splash all over the floor and soaking my right leg. I looked like I’d stepped in a lake.

  I watched the pot clatter to the tile, trying to come up with a witty comment, but when I looked back up and saw her face, I stopped.

  “What?” My heart pounded. Clearly, I’d missed something. Jillian stood still as death, eyes wide, taking me in as if I were the Grim Reaper.

  “Jillian, what? ” I stepped over the pot, backtracking to reach her, but she shook her head, pointing to the wet leg of my jeans. “It’s no big deal, Princess. I’ll dry.”

  Lillie continued her chopping, used to commotion in the kitchen, but Jillian looked as if she’d been dipped in starch. I moved toward her, slowly, so as not to spook her further. But for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what was going on with her. When I was standing right in front of her she looked up into my eyes and whispered, “Bennett, that water was near boiling.”

  I looked down and saw steam rising from the puddle at our feet. She’d been using the hot water spigot. I looked at the stove where a large bowl of diced potatoes sat, ready for boiling.

  “Oh, that?” My mouth was the Sahara, but I backed up, waving her off. “Don’t worry about that… high pain tolerance.” I backed up some more.

  She shook her head, eyes still wide as saucers. “But… you must be burned! There'll be blisters and—” She knelt down to reach for my leg.

  “Stop.”

  I hadn’t intended to spit the word at her like gunfire. “I’m… fine. Just drop it.” I continued my tour of the kitchen, in search of a task. Jillian, moving with none of the confidence and superiority I’d grown to expect from her, mopped up the water, never once looking up from her task. Wringing it out, she mopped again and then maybe even a third time. When she finally finished, she flung the mop into the bucket and shoved it into the utility closet, before filling up a new pot with steaming hot water.

  With salad cut, eggs boiled, cornbread baked, and vegetables sautéed, we locked up and said our goodbyes to the other volunteers. I’d automatically migrated to the passenger side of Jillian’s car, but stopped with my hand on the door handle, brows raised in question. She hadn’t said much since the hot water incident, so it probably wasn’t wise to assume things would magically go back to normal once we left the cafe. But a faint nod, lacking eye contact, answered my unspoken question.

  I’d done this. I was the reason she was hurt or mad or whatever emotion it was that stole her confidence and energy. And I hated myself for it.

  “Jillian… ” I whispered.

  She shook her head, staring straight ahead, her hands firmly planted on ten and two. We’d already pulled up to the library, the five-minute drive shrouded in enough tension to choke an elephant. Everything in me screamed there was more to her stonewalling act, but that’s not what this conversation was about.

  “I snapped at you tonight. It was out of line and out of character for the man I am striving to be.”


  I was getting nowhere. She hadn’t so much as taken a breath, so I turned in the seat to face her. “Look, when I screw up and do something I know I shouldn’t have, I feel it, like physical pain. I pride myself on character and, if you don’t let me get this out, it will eat me alive.” She loosened her grip on the wheel and turned toward me, but kept her gaze down, still never making eye contact. In that moment, I realized her self assuredness was one of her best qualities.

  Her hands were folded in her lap, so I reached out and put a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry about the way I treated you and it will never, ever happen again. You have my word and it’s stronger than titanium.” She nodded, which caused a tear to fall into her lap.

  And... It. Broke. Me.

  Without a second thought, I leaned over the console and pulled Jillian Walker into my arms, feeling her hot tears on my neck. At first, she remained stock-still, but I felt the exact moment her will dissolved. Her body melted into mine and it was the first time in so very long that I felt complete and like the person I used to be.

  It couldn't have lasted more than thirty seconds. I loosened my grip, letting her go, even though everything inside of me screamed to keep her right there by my heart. As I opened the door, she swiped a hand over her face and resumed proper driving posture.

  The moment my foot hit the pavement, I knew I’d made an enormous mistake. So I rushed around the front of her car and stopped beside her window. She turned her head and stared at me a moment before rolling down her window.

  “Jillian?”

  “Bennett?” She matched my tone precisely. I was getting my Jillian back, though I don’t remember when I’d started thinking of her as mine.

  Now or never.

  I leaned into her window. She gasped when she realized what was happening, but centimeters from her lips, I stopped. I hadn’t thought this through. What was I trying to accomplish anyw—

  Her lips, feather-soft, grazed across mine. Her hands, cold and tiny and smooth, cupped my cheeks and pulled me in closer. The temperature was no more than forty degrees, yet I was lit up inside like a campfire.