An Ever Fixéd Mark (10 page)

“Yeah. We used to dress up in period costume
and give tours in character. We had a lot of laughs together and
learned how to deal with stress. I think it was a pretty easy
transition to living together. I’m lucky to have such good
friends.”

“You are,” Ben set his glass down. “Do you
all still work in museums?”

“I’m the only one. Meg is perpetually in
grad school, teaching undergrads and writing another thesis. Nora
became a middle school teacher. She’s the most grownup of us. She
actually got a fiancé and moved out.”

“So Jackie moved in.”

“Yup.” she saw his gaze and then dropped her
eyes to her wine.

“Did you study history in college?” Ben
broke another awkward silence.

“I did,” Lizzie took another sip.

“You read a lot in high school.”

“I still do,” she lifted her eyes to him,
curious at the observation. “It keeps life interesting when my job
is so dull.”

“You think your job is dull?”

“Dreadful.”

He lingered his gaze on her eyes for a
second and shifted towards the coffee table where she rested her
feet. “Your ankle is swollen,” he observed. “Do you have an Ace
bandage?”

“I do,” she muttered into a sip of wine. “On
the shelf over the bathroom sink.”

She drank the rest of her glass and a sip of
another before he came back with the Ace bandage she abandoned a
week ago. He sat back at her side and turned her legs so they
rested in his lap. She watched him silently as he slowly pressed
his fingers into the bottom of her foot, concentrating his thumb
inside her arch. She felt the wine warm her skin and breathed
deeply as he progressed down to her heel.

“How did you end up at Mt. Elm?”

“Money,” she shrugged and took another sip
as he started to wrap the Ace bandage around her relaxed ankle. “I
worked on fundraisers at all the museums. It wasn’t a lot of skill
to switch the concept to hospitals.”

“But it’s boring.”

“Hellishly boring.”

“Why don’t you do something else?”

“I’ve thought about…” she watched him circle
the bandage around her foot. “I don’t… I don’t think I’m all that
qualified.”

He fastened the bandage and lifted his eyes
to her. “Qualified for what?”

Lizzie looked at her wineglass. She didn’t
know how to answer that. It was a relatively simple question. It
was an answer she would have easily found had Andrew not bailed and
stayed home. If Andrew hadn’t stayed home with Davis, she wouldn’t
be sitting with her legs across Ben’s lap on her second glass of
wine. “I…” she muttered, looking at her hands. Suddenly his hands
were unclasping the glass and taking it away from her to put on the
table. He moved his hands to her chin and pulled her against his
lips for a lengthy kiss.

He pulled back from her and slid her feet
back onto the floor. He moved a dangling strand away from her eyes
and held onto the side of her face. “I keep thinking about you,
Elizabeth,” he whispered. Lizzie kissed him again, unable to think
how to answer the echo of her own feeling. She pressed herself
against him, forcing him towards the sofa. She lifted herself onto
his lap and pulled back from the kiss to look at him and his green
gray eyes.

She started to unbutton his shirt and leaned
back towards him, kissing his mouth, across his cheek, down to his
neck. She felt him breathe in and out against her own neck. “I
tried not,” he breathed. “I tried not to do this.”

Lizzie didn’t understand what he was saying.
She figured it was the wine or just the elation of the moment
clouding her head too quickly. She lifted her face and kissed his
mouth again. “I’m glad you changed your mind,” she met his stare
and stopped undoing his buttons. She smoothed along his temples.
“Do you really…” she couldn’t stop her eyes from welling. “Am I
really what you’ve wanted all this time?”

He took hold of her face gently and kissed
her again. She barely noticed his hands leave her cheeks and slip
under her thighs as he lifted her and carried her up the spiral
staircase.

*****

Lizzie heard the doorbell ring as she
stepped out the shower. She threw on a towel and ran down the
stairs, her wet hair dripping on her shoulders. Nora laughed as she
opened the door. “I always forget traffic is better on Sunday
afternoons,” she offered.

“Meg is still at Alec’s,” Lizzie took one of
the dresses and walked with Nora up the stairs.

“Is she on her way?” Nora asked as they got
to the top of the staircase.

“I just came back from a run,” Lizzie
tightened her towel after hanging the dress up on the coat
rack.

“Another run? The day after your race? I
take it the ankle is back to normal,” Nora took the sheeting off of
Lizzie’s dress. “Don’t bother getting dressed. Go put this on.”

Lizzie went back to the bathroom and put up
her wet hair in a clip before trying on the dress. The burgundy
material fitted her frame flawlessly. She rushed back out to the
hallway to show Nora. “It’s perfect,” she beamed.

“It is,” Nora grinned as she unclipped
Lizzie’s wet hair to see it on her shoulders. “No, I think we
should see your shoulders.”

“Are you wearing yours up or down?” Lizzie
let herself wander over to the mirror in the hallway. She once
avoided it at all costs.

“Up,” Nora put the clip back in her hair.
“How did it go yesterday?”

“I made good time,” Lizzie turned away from
the mirror.

“And you decided to go for a run today.”

“
Ben came to see
me.”

“Ben? High school Ben?” Nora smiled. She was
impressed by the story of his chivalry on Memorial Drive.

“Yes,” Lizzie smoothed along the skirt.

“Did you know he was coming?”

“I didn’t know he was there until I was
waiting for Meg to bring the car.”

“And?”

“He ended up coming over last night,” Lizzie
couldn’t prevent the smile that eked across her chin as she heard
the door at the bottom of the stairs.

“Are you going to see him again?” Nora
asked, unmoved by the sound at the door.

“I hope so,” Lizzie smiled and ignored the
lump of doubt that prompted her to run on her bandaged ankle. Ben
was gone when she woke up. She didn’t know how she should feel
about that when he made her so happy by coming to her apartment.
When he said that he couldn’t stop thinking about her…

“Oh my God, Lizzie!” Meg got to the top of
the staircase. “You look amazing!”

“Thanks,” Lizzie let the praise warm her
memory and fade out the sickening sense of uncertainty.

“There is no way my dress is going to look
that good on me,” Meg dropped her bag and went to her dress on the
coat rack.

“I think you might be surprised, Meg,” Nora
offered. “Margie did an amazing job with the dresses. You should
see Becca’s.”

Meg took her dress off the hook and
disappeared down the hall into the bathroom. Lizzie turned back to
her reflection once more. She let Ben slip back into her mind and
hoped that he might be able to see her in that dress. “You know,
Nora,” Lizzie sighed at her reflection. “I think I really like
him.”

“Ben?”

“Yeah,” Lizzie shut her eyes accepting the
fact she just made it real. She hoped that by wishing it she didn’t
just curse it by making it too much like her last wish for a man
for whom she let herself feel.

“He would be a fool to walk away from
you.”

“A fool,” Lizzie repeated to her reflection
in near silence.

“Hey, I think you got a bug bite,” Nora said
suddenly.

“What?” Lizzie turned away from the
mirror.

“At the base of your neck,” Nora touched a
spot that Lizzie couldn’t see in the mirror or her periphery. “You
don’t feel it?”

“No.”

“Actually, you’ve got two of them.”

“Is it really obvious?”

“No,” Nora laughed. “That’s a funny place
for a bug bite.”

“Something probably found me while I was
running.”

“Maybe it’s the Chicken Pox.”

“I had those when I was seven,” Lizzie
looked at the mirror trying to see what she knew she couldn’t.

Meg came down the hallway, beaming at the
fit of her own maroon dress. “Margie is a genius.”

Nora smiled. “I am going to have beautiful
photographs!” she exclaimed.

Lizzie caught the contagious elation of her
friends and let it fuel her hope that there would be much more to
smile about in June.

Chapter Nine

He disappeared. Well, it seemed like it. She
knew he was probably somewhere in Cambridge living his life as
usual, going to his office and back to wherever he lived in Central
Square. But there was no word from him, no confirmation of the fact
that he really was thinking about her. That he wanted to talk to
her again. No email. Nothing on Facebook. Not even a phone call.
Not that she had given him her number. But it couldn’t be that
difficult to find it if he wanted to contact her.

Lizzie spent a week talking herself in and
out of all sorts of possibilities. She idled over Facebook and
Google looking at whatever the name Ben Cottingham yielded. Nothing
proved anything. She saw no evidence that he was married. He wasn’t
gay. She knew that for sure. She didn’t know why he left without
goodbye. Or why he hadn’t bothered to make any contact since. Was
he going to wait another six weeks and show up spontaneously with a
bottle of wine to check on her ankle? Was she going to wait another
six weeks for him?

She wanted to see him. She didn’t want to
send a message across Facebook and not be able to see the
expression when he saw her name in his inbox. She wanted to catch
him in the moment and see if he was glad to see her. Or if he had
an impulse to run away. She couldn’t just keep hoping for another
sudden appearance. She wasn’t running any races in the near future.
She thought briefly about finding one and posting it on Facebook to
lure him with another update. She didn’t want to resort to deceit…
not yet. She knew he lived somewhere close to the Charles River.
She could at least run there and hope that whatever led him to walk
a few blocks from his house on a Saturday afternoon would lead him
to cross her path again. Maybe. It was a stretch, but it would be
good exercise… for her ankle.

She directed herself towards the JFK Bridge.
With each step, she let her mind go back and replay the night in
her apartment over and over. He said he couldn’t stop thinking
about her. Then he said he tried not to… to what? To see her? To
obsess about her? To bring a bottle of wine to her apartment? To
seduce her? To stay away? What did he mean? If he wanted to stay
away, why did he show up after saying he couldn’t come to dinner?
Why didn’t he stay away?

Why didn’t he contact her? He knew how to
find her. He knew where she lived. He knew she was on Facebook. Was
he still trying to talk himself out of whatever it was that he was
trying not to do? Maybe it was Sara. Maybe he didn’t want to go
back down that road to Springs. Who could blame him? He had a
successful business in Boston. He didn’t need to look back.

She turned around at the Harvard Bridge and
headed back towards the train. Maybe she wouldn’t see him. She
would have to email him. She wasn’t going to allow another week to
pass without giving herself the opportunity to ask him these
questions that she asked over and over. Never mind her own
question. If it was a real possibility, would she stay? Or would
she find a reason to run away?

She passed the Mass Ave. Bridge when she saw
him. She didn’t see his face, but she knew it was him. He was
walking away from her, at a pretty brisk pace. She increased her
run to a sprint and then slowed when she was a few feet from him.
As if sensing her, he turned suddenly and gave her the reaction she
hoped to see. He smiled.

“
Hey Ben,” she took out
her earphones.

“Elizabeth,” he responded. “I see your ankle
is doing very well.”

“It is,” she felt the runner’s high release
her grin without any effort.

She saw the breeze ruffle his short hair. He
closed his eyes for a brief second as if collecting a thought. He
stepped back from her and looked down the river. “I’m glad to see
you,” he finally looked back at her.

“Me too,” she was confused by his look and
increased distance. The oxygen drain from her head often impaired
her perception. She felt the endorphin rush fuel her confidence.
“Maybe we could get dinner some time?”

Ben looked down the river a second time.
“Lizzie,” he startled her with her nickname.

She felt the coolness enter her brain. There
was something holding him back. Damn it. She didn’t care. “I feel
badly that you showed up and there was no dinner last week. I also
appreciate your attention to my ankle. Whatever you did made it
feel much better. You don’t know how much that meant to me,” she
smiled.

He looked at her intently. She sensed the
urge she felt at the top of the stairs when he brought her home.
She wanted to go towards him and pull him into her kiss. She was
about to take a step when he lifted his hand and ran his fingers
through his hair. He moved his face back towards the water, but she
could tell he was still looking at her. She knew he desired her.
She knew that much was true. If that was all… if she was to him
just what Eric was to her… maybe… maybe that would be okay.

“I saw that you are going to see Jack’s band
next weekend,” he turned back to face her.

“What?” Lizzie was surprised by the fact he
knew that. Facebook. “Oh yeah. Yeah, on Friday.”

“I’d like to see the band. And go with you,”
he smiled. “I’ll drive.”

“To Worcester?”

“I’d enjoy your company,” he returned his
smile to the one she saw at the beginning of the conversation.

“Okay,” Lizzie nodded. “Pick me up at…
seven? That should get us there by 8. Jack’s band goes on at 10.
The opening band is pretty decent, too.”