Only By Your Touch (9 page)

Chloe propped an elbow on her desk and rested her chin on her hand. “What happened?”

“He squared off and gave the boys a choice. They could push Mandy Jean’s books back to the corner with their noses or have a knuckle sandwich for their after-school snack.”

“And they did it?”

“You’ve seen Bobby Lee’s grin. He’s still got his teeth, doesn’t he?”

“Bobby Lee was one of the boys tormenting her?”

Sue laughed. “He was a brat. He wasn’t driving yet. Fourteen, maybe fifteen. Boys are ornery at that age.”

Unless they were gentle souls. “Poor Mandy Jean.”

“After that, they backed off, afraid Ben would rearrange their faces.”

“So he is capable of violence.”

“Aren’t we all? Ben wasn’t a kid to go looking for trouble. He just couldn’t tolerate cruelty of any kind. If he saw someone kick a dog, he went ballistic.”

“Do you—?” Chloe paused, feeling almost guilty for asking the question. “Do you think he’s dangerous, Sue? Bobby Lee seems to think he might harm me or Jeremy, that he’s genetically predisposed to violence.”

“Genetically?” Sue rolled her eyes. “If our genes control our behavior, God help us all.”

“That’s my feeling, too.”

“That isn’t to say you shouldn’t be careful,” Sue hastened to add. “He did kill a guy. I just don’t think his genes had anything to do with it.”

T
he pup was losing ground fast. Ben sat at the table, listening to the rattle of the dog’s breathing. It wouldn’t be long, a few minutes, maybe an hour. He’d turned off the lights. It was more peaceful in the shadows. Having failed to save the little guy, Ben at least wanted to make him as comfortable as possible at the end.

It was always difficult when he lost a patient. Life was sacred, and every creature, large or small, mattered to him. But it was doubly hard to fail when he knew a child would grieve as a result.

“He’s dying, isn’t he?”

Lost in his thoughts, Ben hadn’t heard his mother enter the kitchen. “Yeah, I’m afraid so. I’ve done all I can, and he just isn’t responding.”

“I’m sorry to hear it. That little boy loves him so.”

His neck ached with tension. Even in the dimness, he could see the lucidity in her expression. It was strange, how she drifted in and out. The doctor said it was common with milder forms of Alzheimer’s, especially at first, but Nan had had the disease for five years. On the one hand, Ben was glad her condition hadn’t deteriorated, but it hurt when she came back to him this way, only to leave again.

“I remember another boy who loved his dog.”

Ben nodded. “Yeah, me, too.”

“For months afterwards, you’d go missing, and when I went searching, I’d find you outside, sitting under that old tree beside his grave. All that winter and the following summer, you kept vigil. At times I wondered if you’d ever get over it.”

“In ways, I never have.”

“I hope little Jeremy doesn’t take it that hard. His heart was in his eyes today while he was petting that puppy.”

“It’s out of our hands now, Mom.”

“No, never that. As long as there’s life, there’s hope.”

Ben stared into the darkness.

“There’s nothing quite so beautiful as a child and dog, running and playing together on a sunny day. Just imagine, being able to make that happen.”

His throat felt so thick, he could barely reply. “You’re tired, Mama. Why don’t you go along to bed?”

“Yes, very, very tired.” She moved closer to rest a hand on his shoulder. “I love you, Ben. Do you know how much?”

He stroked her frail wrist with his thumb. “I love you, too. Never doubt it.”

“I don’t. What breaks my heart is that you no longer love yourself.” Ben could almost feel the sadness emanating from her. “As a mother, I’ve countless regrets, but the one that haunts me most is that I let him do this to you.”

“You shouldn’t blame yourself. You did all you could.”

“Did I?” She let the question hang there a moment. “It’s always easier to say we’ve done all we can, isn’t it? But it’s seldom true. We can always do more—if
only we find the courage.” She tightened her grip on his shoulder. “Seeing you like this would break your grandfather’s heart. He was always so proud of you, and he tried so hard to teach you to be proud of yourself. Where has your pride gone, Ben? Why do you deny what you are?”

“I’m not denying anything. Look at me.”

“You wear the trappings.” She fingered the beaded thong around his neck. “I know you’re trying. I see you touch the medallion sometimes—to remind yourself, I think.
‘I am Shoshone.’
But those are only words, Ben, and the medallion is only a stone passed down to you by your grandfather. ‘Wear it with pride,’ he said. You were only seven years old the night he died, but he saw in you the man you’d one day become.”

“And I’ve failed him. Is that what you’re saying?”

“No, Ben. You’re failing yourself. And that’s the heartbreak of it, don’t you see? You’ve closed the door to your soul.”

She drew away from him then, becoming part of the shadows again. He could hear her slippers shuffling over the tile as she left the kitchen. Long after the sound of her footsteps faded away, he sat there with his head bent, listening to Rowdy’s laborious breathing. He’d heard the death rattle too many times not to recognize it now.

With a trembling hand, Ben reached out to stroke the puppy’s fur, thinking of Jeremy. In ten or twenty years, would the child look back and remember this time in his life with an ache in his heart? Even worse, would he eventually become like Ben, afraid to let himself love again?

The thought made Ben ache with regret and myriad other emotions he couldn’t sort out or analyze. He allowed the weight of his hand to rest on the puppy’s
heaving rib cage. Images of Jeremy and the dog running and playing together drifted slowly through his mind, like the turning pages of a picture book. His mother was right; there was nothing more beautiful than a child and dog romping together in the sunlight. And what a joy it should be to have the power to make that happen.

Just once
, Ben thought.
How could it hurt if he did it only once?
He closed his eyes, let the tension drain from his body, and curled his fingers over the puppy’s wasted body.

When Chloe’s shift was over, she decided to drive home with her window down. Whispering Pines, the subdivision where she lived, lay ten miles west of town, a pocket of private land surrounded by national forest and countless small lakes that attracted fishermen. At this late hour there was never much traffic out that way. Normally, Chloe enjoyed driving the curvy, two-lane highway. But tonight, fearing she might fall asleep, she needed the wind in her face.

As she nosed the Honda through town at a sluggish twenty-five, she loosened her hair and sighed with delight at the breeze moving over her. The scent of pine and manzanita from the woods made the air smell fresh and clean.

As she turned left onto Shoshone Road, she accelerated and set her speed at fifty, slowing only when she passed one of the residential or business districts en route to the subdivision. The little store where she sometimes stopped to get Jeremy a treat was dimming its lights. The owner, a grossly overweight man, stood out by the gas island, balancing a clipboard on one hand. Just as Chloe passed, he bent over to read a pump meter. The waistband of his baggy jeans dipped
low in back, flashing a broad expanse of bare rump that gleamed in the moonlight like the underbelly of a dead fish.

She gulped back a startled laugh.
Country living
. Just last week, her brother Rob had asked if she missed the cultural diversity of Seattle. Heck, no. She had all the cultural diversity she could handle right here.

She sighed as she reached her favorite stretch of the road, bordered on both sides by trees. Some five miles long, it was intensely dark, with a windy ribbon of moon-silvered asphalt stretching ahead of her and a midnight-blue sky overhead, studded with thousands of stars. This was the Oregon she’d come to love as a girl when she’d vacationed here with her family, and it had been memories of this place that had drawn her back as an adult.

As she turned off onto Whispering Pines Lane, a two-mile stretch that led to the housing district, Chloe slowed her speed, ever watchful for deer. No deer leaped out in front of her, but she did come upon a porcupine waddling up the center of the road.
Jack Pine’s version of a traffic jam
.

Ringed by towering pines that blocked the moonlight, her front yard was cloaked in darkness when she pulled into the driveway. Tracy hadn’t turned on the porch light. The illumination inside the house, diffused by curtains at the windows, cast only a dim glow over the shrubs bordering the foundation. In the breeze, shadows shifted, creating sinister shapes.

Chloe hesitated before exiting the car. Then, scoffing at herself for being a goose, she wrenched open the door, got out, and forced herself to walk, not run, to the steps. This was a sleepy town, the crime running to domestic disturbances, traffic infractions,
and poaching, with an occasional fight at the bar to keep things interesting. She had no reason to feel uneasy.

Foiled by darkness, she fished for her keys, which, like an idiot, she had dropped in her purse.
Oh, duh.
Sleep deprivation. Her brain was on autopilot. She fumbled to insert the key in the lock. When she pushed into the living room, Tracy, engaged in conversation on the kitchen phone, waved hello.

“Gotta go. Chloe just came home. Yeah. Me, too.” She made kiss noises. “Bye.” After hanging up, she said, “Ooh, bummer. You look totally wiped. Was it a busy night?”

“Not too.” Chloe limply patted the girl’s shoulder. “I’m just tired.”

The supper dishes had been washed and stacked in the blue drainer. “You’re an angel, Tracy. Thanks for cleaning up.”

“No problem.” Tracy’s brown hair was secured in a twist with a big purple clip. Glitter gel made her sweet face sparkle like a showgirl’s, and she’d slashed her skintight jeans in strategic places. “I put some clothes in the washer for you and ran the vac. Jer spilled his popcorn.”

“When my ship comes in, I’m giving you a raise.” Chloe moved past her to go check on her son.

The night-light in her son’s bedroom cast a fanlike glow over the wall, illuminating his bookshelf and the posters above it, depictions of John Deere tractors, Winnie-the-Pooh, and monster-faced characters from his favorite movie,
Shrek
.

Chloe bent over to smooth his hair. Life was complicated as a single mother, but she had no regrets. Jeremy was the joy of her life. She kissed his forehead. “I’ll be back in a blink, big guy.” The Bower house was only one street over. Jeremy would be
safe for the few minutes it took her to drive Tracy home.

After dropping Tracy off, Chloe drove home faster than usual.

She no sooner killed the car engine than she realized the yard was still dark. She hadn’t thought to flip on the porch light. She muttered under her breath.

Stiff with tension, she struck off across the lawn. It was stupid to be so jumpy. Roger was an entire state away, and she had no reason to believe he might show up here. It was time to turn loose of her fear and get on with her life.

Just as she reached the rickety steps, a deep voice said, “Hi, there.”

She braked to a halt so suddenly that she almost pitched forward on her face. Her heart gave a wild leap when a man emerged from the shadows on the porch. For a horrible instant, she thought it was Roger. Then her panic-stricken brain registered the fact that he was far taller, and darker as well.

Ben Longtree
. Chloe clamped a hand over the center of her chest, where her heart was doing an erratic tap dance. “Oh,” she said weakly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

She moved her hand to her throat. It was going on midnight. What reaction did he expect? “It’s okay. I, um, just didn’t anticipate company.”

“I was going to telephone.” He rubbed his jaw. “Then I got to thinking that I’d rather tell you in person. Are you all right?”

“In need of defibrillation to reestablish a normal heartbeat, but otherwise I’m fine.”

He chuckled. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I should have parked in your drive or stayed in the truck until you reached the house.”

He stepped into the moonlight. He looked so—well, big. He looked big. And masculine. Too masculine for her taste. She could almost feel the heat rolling off him.

“I suppose you’re wondering how I found your place.”

She made a noise that passed for an affirmative.

“Jeremy called this evening. He gave me the address. I hope you don’t mind. I know it’s late for guests.”

Chloe’s brain had stuck on one thought. “Rowdy—he’s dead, isn’t he?”

Even in the moonlight, she saw his mouth tip into a grin. “Actually, no. He’s doing better. Right when I thought sure I’d lose him, he started to rally.”

Chloe groped for the wobbly porch rail. “He started to rally?” she repeated incredulously.

“He isn’t out of the woods yet,” he added. “Judging by the look of him, I’d venture a guess he was weak from starvation before he got sick, and the virus has robbed him of what little strength he had. But with proper care—meaning rest and plenty of nourishment—I think I can pull him out of it. I wanted to tell Jeremy. You know that saying, ‘Bad news can’t wait.’ In this case, it was good news that wouldn’t keep.”

Chloe imagined him working over the puppy half the night and then making a special trip over here to share the news. “Jeremy will be over the moon. I don’t usually wake him so late, but this calls for an exception.”

Ben’s eyes shimmered in the moonglow. “You don’t have to do that. The good news will wait till morning. I wasn’t thinking in terms of a six-year-old’s time schedule.”

“Hey, you have no idea how I dreaded having to
tell him the puppy didn’t make it. Now I won’t have to.” A smarting sensation washed over her eyes. “He had such grand plans. Then they all blew up in his face. I felt responsible, you know? When he was choosing a dog, I knew Rowdy wasn’t the best choice, but I didn’t put my foot down and—” She broke off and sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m blabbering, aren’t I? It startled me out of ten years’ growth when I saw you on the porch.”

“I got the impression you thought I was someone else.”

“For a second, yes.”

He nodded. “It takes a while.”

What
took a while? She was tempted to ask, but she had a bad feeling she wouldn’t like the answer. Jeremy was still too young to understand there were some things he shouldn’t tell people. Apparently he’d been filling Ben in on her personal life.