Under the Orange Moon (17 page)

“When, then?”

Ben groaned and looked down at Dylan’s suspicious glare. “I’m not flaking. Stop looking at me like that.”

Dylan said nothing as she stared back at him, contemplating an explosion in her room that may launch him over the houses and through his roof, landing in his own bedroom and out of her life.

Oh God, he’s flaking
.

“This isn’t a control thing, Dylan,” he said as if he were inside her brain. “It’s a timing thing, and I want it to be right.”

“You’ve planned this discussion, then?” Dylan asked, crossing her arms.

“I haven’t planned one moment of this, actually.” He laughed and pulled her to his lap. “I’m all messed up. This was the last thing I expected.”

Dylan pouted with his arms around her. She tried not to laugh at his open hearted comments, but they were too adorable for her to take.  Through her giggle, she asked, “So when does this discussion take place?”

Ben pursed his lips and smiled bashfully. “Tonight. Over dinner.”

“Dinner?” Dylan’s heart accelerated. “Out in front of people?”

“Well, maybe somewhere that won’t involve people we know.”

They leaned into a kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, a wordless, but obvious, sign she accepted his dinner invitation.

Ben stood up and got dressed quickly. “I gotta get out of here, like now. We’re getting a bit careless. I want people to know, but not when we’re naked in your bed.
Brandon would murder me before I could even explain.”

“Thanks for that vivid picture of
Brandon finding us naked. Yuck,” Dylan said, and walked across the room, tiptoeing on the carpet beneath her feet. She peaked out through the tiny opening she made with the door, and scanned the shadowy hallway outside. “Their doors are all closed.”

Ben stretched out his arms and yawned. “They’re all hung over, I imagine.”

“I’m sure we won’t be seeing any of them for some time today.”

Ben wrapped his arms around Dylan’s waist and pulled her back to him. She loved the feeling of her skin against his. “Still, I should get going,” he said to her regret.

“I know, I know. This is the last way they should find out about us.”

“What will you do while I’m gone?” Ben asked with a hint of sadness. He swiped a stray hair from her face, trailing her cheek with his fingertip as he did.

Dylan slid from his lap and curled up into the fetal position on her bed. “Sleep,” she said with a relaxed smile. “Goodnight.”

Ben leaned down and kissed her forehead, her cheek and then her lips. “Sleep,” he whispered sweetly. “I’ll see you later.”

She watched in silent agony as Ben once again slipped from her morning, leaving her alone in her bed. She closed her eyes and felt peace about their relationship.

She had never been to
Massachusetts before. She’s seen snow, but never lived in it, nor did she expect to want to one day. She knew he wanted her to go back with him and she knew what her answer would be.

She would happily follow Ben around the world.

Ben had a new stride in his step. He practically skipped through the yards as he walked back to Ruth’s house in the early morning hours.

He waved his hand to Mr. Raymond, flashing a genuine smile and ignoring the angry neighbor’s yells for being on his lawn. Normally, he would have flipped him off with that grin, but not today. It was different today.

He wanted so badly to tell Ruth what he had found in Dylan. He wished that she could know that it wasn’t too late for her to have that, too.

It would be a tragedy if there wasn’t someone out there for everyone. Dylan was clearly made for him, created for him, and put here for him to love and need. Why couldn’t everyone have that? What would be the point if they didn’t?

Ben strut through his mother’s back door and ignored the usual dark demeanor of his childhood home. The windows were all drawn; the black drapes were a constant obstacle to the sun for as long as he could remember. Today, that meant nothing.

“Mom?” he called from the bottom of the steps.

With no answer to follow, Ben made his careful way up each step until he reached the landing and turned his head up to her room.  Her door was closed with no light shining through from the other side.

“Mom?” he called again. His feet slowly took the last few steps as he kept his eyes focused on her door.

He pressed his ear to the wood that separated them. He listened. There was nothing, no usual weeping or movement of any kind.

He wanted to talk to her, to finally welcome a conversation. He hadn’t felt her friendship or that motherly connection in so long
—too long. He was ready to feel that with her. He was ready to allow her in for once and share what he discovered.

Ben slowly turned the brass knob to her door and stuck his head through the opening. “Ruth?” he whispered.

He stepped in through the door and stopped when he saw her in bed. Her back was to him and she still wore the same white pajamas from the night before. Her hair was down and a few strands covered her face. A bit of sun managed to escape through the slats of the blinds. The stream of light shot across the room and grazed the rim of the empty glass in her hand, creating a tiny sparkle just above her fingers.

“Didn’t I tell you to stop drinking with those pills?” he asked loudly.

Ben froze when he noticed her blue skin. He drew in a quick breath and held it there when he saw the empty prescription bottles spread out over her floral comforter. He couldn’t make his feet move as he watched for her still back to give some sort of indication of breath in her lungs.

Knowing there would not be an answer, he called out to her again through a crack in his throat. “Mom,” he said simply.

His chin quivered, but it was his anger he was trying to suppress. He chewed on the inside of his cheek and stared at his mother’s lifeless body. He couldn’t be surprised and he couldn’t find it in him to be sad. He just stood.

You stupid woman
.

“Very weak, Ruth,” he whispered, and left the room.

Dylan sighed and threw the covers from her body. It had been almost two weeks since she had been able to sleep peacefully and now, just when she was able to successfully drift off, loud siren bearing vehicles tore through the back of her subdivision as if every square inch of it was on fire.

“Ugh!” Dylan groaned as she kicked the sheets from her legs. She pulled her pillow from her head and sat up quickly. “You have got to be kidding me!”

Without warning, her door flung open and Jonah’s face appeared through the opening. “Is Ben in here?” he asked urgently.

Dylan pulled the sheets to her body, and screeched, “No! Get out Jonah!”

“Those ambulances are at his house!” he yelled, and slammed the door.

Dylan jumped to her feet and grabbed whatever article of clothing she could find. She was scared, but not so scared that she would run outside in her underwear and T-shirt.
              She hurried as she dressed frantically, attempting to block out the horrible assumptions that flashed in her brain: Ben tripped or fell down the stairs; or maybe he got hit by a car, an aneurism, a fatal heart condition…did Mr. Raymond finally shoot him?

Doors opened and closed in the hallway just outside her room. The panicked sounds of her brothers stampeding through the house, mixed with Linda’s fearful voice, echoed up to Dylan’s room as she raced to get ready.

By the time Dylan made it to the sliding glass door, her family was already through the first yard and on their way to Ruth’s. Dylan sprinted after them with tears in her eyes.

She caught up and ran just on the heels of Charlie’s feet. She ran with speed and she ran without thought. If she let her mind go, it would only lead her to the worst of conclusions. Even the slightest glimpse of the idea that Ben may be hurt was too much for her to stomach.

As they crossed the final yard, a lot filled with only gravel and a short palm tree, Ben’s slouched body came into view. He sat on his porch with his arms resting on his bent knees. He seemed to stare into space as the firefighters and paramedics moved all around him.

A police officer stood over him and quickly scrawled over a notepad in his hand while he nodded his head slowly, almost mechanically.

“Ben,” Jonah called.

He leapt over the soil that was once covered in beautiful flowers years before. Now it lied overgrown with weeds, abandoned from any tending and grooming whatsoever.

Ben’s exhausted eyes focused on Jonah as he slowly lifted his head. There were no signs of tears, though. Ben seemed to cry in other, less obvious ways Dylan had learned simply by observing him their entire lives.

“What happened, Ben?” Linda carefully asked, as she wrapped her arm around his back. “Is it your mother?”

“She’s dead,” he whispered without feeling.

Linda gasped. “How?”

Ben opened his eyes and stared at Dylan, who was wordless in the corner. She stood speechless with guilt, relief, sadness and shock. It was every emotion manageable, she thought. She
as y that Ben was unharmede ford., but she tried to decide if that made her horrible for
wondered if the relief she felt that it was Ruth and not Ben made her as horrible as she suspected.

Linda stood to her feet and approached the police officer that had been diligently taking notes off to the side. She turned and spoke in a low voice to keep her discussion discreet.

Dylan and Ben stared at each other. Dylan wanted nothing more than to comfort him. Just as she did the night he got into a fight, she wanted to clean his wounds and hold him. This was not so easily healed, though. This was something she couldn’t make better with a wet cloth and kiss.

“She’s not a victim,” he announced, shaking his head.

“You can still be upset,” Charlie said, placing his hand on Ben’s shoulder.

Ben shrugged it off and placed his hands on top of his head. He turned his back on everyone and faced the front door. His broad shoulders moved up and down as he tried to gain control over his raging emotions.

Dylan felt helpless as she watched Ben’s usual walls shoot up around him. She wondered if she should reach out, comfort him. Would he even allow that?

“Ben, come home with us,” Linda pleaded in her subtle, but demanding way. “The officer said he was done with you for now.”

Ben shook his head. “I need to make calls, tell everyone.”

“C’mon, man. You can do all that at our house,” Hugh said. “You don’t need to be here.”

“I don’t want to be with anyone,” Ben snapped. He took in a deep breath. “I just need a minute.”

Brandon
grabbed Hugh’s shoulder and eased him away. “Let’s give him some breathing room, guys.”

Linda wrapped her arms around Ben’s tense body. “We’re here when you need us.”

One by one, the Mathews family departed, unknowingly leaving Dylan behind as they went. She watched for them to disappear before turning to him and searching for something to say.

“Will you be all right?” she asked quietly. The stupidity of that question only hit her after it came out of her mouth. She wanted to slap her own face for even allowing it to escape.

Ben hissed a sarcastic sound. Disgusted, he shook his head and turned his back on Dylan.

“Stupid question.” She placed her arms around his waist and rested her face against his back. “What can I do?”

“You can leave me alone.”

“Please don’t shut me out, Ben.”

Ben sighed deeply. “Then don’t force me to, Dylan.”

“Let me be here for you.”

He turned to face her with his cold glare, the same callous expression that she knew all too well. As his eyes narrowed on her, Dylan felt his need to be alone. He truly didn’t want her there.

“Mr. McKenna?” a police officer said as he approached. “I think we’re about finished here. The coroner took your mother’s body to the morgue. Do you have any questions?”

Ben stared at the officer with a blank look. “Can you tell when she—when she did it?” It was almost unbearable for Dylan to hear the struggle in his voice.

“We can’t be too sure, but the coroner said so far it looks as if it was only a few hours ago.”

Ben looked down. “Right,” he said quietly.

The officer left, leaving the two of them standing on his porch alone.

“Please go, Dylan,” Ben demanded. “I don’t want you here.”

Dylan almost took a step back from his blatant disregard for her. He had just lost his mother in the worst of ways and now she would be his escape. She would take his anger and verbal abuse if it made him feel better. She was willing to be there in any way he wanted, no matter the pain it caused her.

When Dylan didn’t respond or move, Ben growled with anger. “Dylan, go!” he snapped loudly. “I don’t want to do this to you, but I need you to leave.
Please
.”

Dylan’s chin quivered. “Okay,” she obliged through a painful lump in her throat. “When you’re ready, I’m here.”