28. Willow
TWENTY-EIGHT
Willow
I t is, and was, so hard to not kiss Ben. He’s easily the sexiest man I’ve ever met and I wish beyond anything that he was completely and totally single. Even when he told me about the lack of things Shelby does as a wife and mother, despite how she painted it, I can’t help but feel bad for her. Losing a man like him? I couldn’t dream of it. Not if he were mine. How hard is it to clean a house? To have Jonny do it all instead, when he’s that young? And did I understand it right that Shelby pretended she was the one who cleaned? Bizarre! And dare I think it…cruel?
The walk to his property next door is lovely, and we take it slow along the shoulder of the street, talking about farming. No cars pass as I ask questions and he answers them in depth about the processes he uses to ensure healthy, abundant crops. “To be honest, I knew nothing of farming, so this is very interesting to me. ”
“Very?” he smiles as if catching me in a lie.
“It is!” I laugh, and gasp as we walk through the gated entrance that needs to be opened manually. He drags the gate back into position, inserting a steel thing-a-majiggy back into its place, a sort of lock without a lock.
“Anyone can open that!”
“But nobody does except those invited,” he informs me with easy confidence. “It’s safe in the country.”
We walk up a gravel driveway and my hand flutters to my neck as I drink in acres of perfectly lined produce rows, lit by moonlight in patches, illuminated by solar lanterns on shepherd’s hooks in others. “It’s so big!”
“Seventeen acres.”
“Oh my God! This is all yours?”
“I’m still paying on it, but yes, this is all mine.”
I turn to him. “Ben, it’s beautiful.”
“Planting happens in stages, different times for different plants. And the fruit trees take up most of it.”
“Any animals?”
A frown tears into his handsome features. “Just hens for eggs.”
I silently nod, understanding without needing to hear it, that at some point a discussion — maybe many? — was had about bringing animals into this gorgeous property.
I can see why he wouldn't have cows, since that's his dad's business to supply milk for others, although maybe one or two to have some milk of their own. But he loves horses. And so does Jonny now that he got over the fear he had when he was younger. With kindness I offer, "I guess with all of the trees and produce, there isn't room for horses."
"There was,” he says with a heavy voice. “I’ve always wanted my own horses. Let me show you the house.”
My heart sinks for him, the sadness in his voice. Then skips a beat, thinking of us being alone inside. This is so confusing! All of these feelings I have for someone I just met. And until I met him, I've never been with a guy who made me worry I couldn't control my sexual desire. It makes me feel a little guilty wanting him this badly when I just heard the hurt in his voice. But Ben just reeks of masculinity. He makes me feel more like a woman than I ever have. Like we compliment each other, and we’re supposed to touch, to kiss, to be closer. Skin on skin is all I can think about. How that will feel.
His muscles.
Deep voice.
The way he walks.
Oh, how he walks.
Ben strolls like he just got off a horse. That kind of walk always makes me think that a man is well endowed. And from what I felt when we were in the shed, I have no reason to doubt it .
My body is awake to him in ways it never has been before. Sex, for me, has always been a part of a relationship, but when I’m with Ben it's almost all I can think about.
How his lips feel.
How strong his hands are.
How they felt pressing my arms above my head. How they ran down my back and dug in, possessing me.
Ever since we left the others, we’ve been just talking about our lives, everything in them, including some things we hope to do in the future. But it’s crazy! There was no reason why, when he said he might want to sell at a farmers market himself just for fun, that I would feel a stirring between my legs.
But I did.
Could it be that his excitement excites me? Is this what true connection feels like? An awakening? Like I’m in tune with him and more of myself at the same time? In sync to a point of depth that actually turns me on?
It's amazing.
Wonderful.
I don't want it to ever end.
But I have to be careful.
My heart is on the line.
What happens if it breaks?
But isn't that what life is about? Aren't we supposed to listen to our hearts? Because mine is telling me I want to be nowhere else except where Ben is. And if that’s a mistake, then maybe I have to make it. I’d rather have heartache than regret not following my heart. When I’m old and it’s all over, would I say, “I loved too much.”
Doubt it.
He takes my hand and leads me to the house, a charming two-story with an open front porch that he explains used to be enclosed but the mesh wore down so he tore it out.
"More air this way," I smile. Kiss me.
“Plan to put in a new one. Dunno when. The bugs in Georgia are so big they’ll fly off with you.”
As he digs out his keys from his back pocket I take the opportunity to check out his ass. It’s perfect, and those jeans know it. Ben unlocks the front door to reveal a country-style living room — beige couch and wood coffee table, red dining table tucked in the corner by a matching hutch, fireplace on the wall far right, with a wall to our left cutting half-way through, designating where the kitchen begins and this room ends. He points to a door ahead. “That's Jonny's room. He was upstairs in what is now the guest room — which it used to be, a long time ago — but he wanted more space from us. He's a little man in the making. Would you like something to drink? "
The last thing I need is to loosen up my inhibitions. I’ll just ask for a water. “Do you have any wine?"
Oops.
"I have red. I don't drink white. "
"I prefer red. Except in the summertime. Sometimes it's too hot and white wine is… refreshing."
We walk into the kitchen and I'm horrified to see it doesn't look like him at all. Or anyone our age, for that matter. Or from this century. The wallpaper is flowered and not the pretty design kind. More like that of a grandmother back in the 1960s. The towels match and I have to guess that he did not have a hand in designing this.
It’s hard to say, “It’s nice.”
Not my place to judge.
Not my place at all.
It’s hers.
Her place.
Ben explains, “We used to have a kitchen island but decided to tear that out. I miss it. Probably gonna get another one. In fact, I definitely am.” He grumbles, reaching for the red, “Need to redecorate this whole thing. Not my style.”
I cross to him as he pours our wine, to gently slide my arms around his back, hugging him from behind. He straightens, tightens his arms over mine and leans into me. I close my eyes and lay my head between his warm shoulder blades. We stay like this for a few beautiful moments where the world disappears — the lack of a kitchen island, the longing for horses of his own, my wishing I had a job I love, the distance between my true home and his — all have vanished.
He turns and looks at me from his tall height, green eyes searching my face. “Willow,” he rasps .
“Kiss me, Ben. Just kiss me .”
The sound of a car pulls our attention and we separate so that Ben can check his phone. “They didn’t call. Shit.”
“What?”
“It’s not Mom or Dad. They’d have called.”
“Who is it then?” I realize instantly and whisper, “Oh no!”
“It’s Shelby.”
“I’ll hide.”
“No fucking way.”
“Ben!”
“I said, no fucking way are you hiding in a closet.”
“I’ll hide in a room then!”
“No. I mean it. No fucking way.” He groans, “I didn’t lock the door.”
It swings open and in walks his ex-wife. Soon to be? The wall separating us isn't big enough to hide that I'm here. She freaks out and the biggest fight I’ve ever been a part of, begins. “What the fuck is she doing here?!”
“Shelby, what are you doing here?”
“I have a right to be in my own house!”
They go back and forth and I start to make my way to the door, but Ben stops me. “No, Willow, stay.”
“Ben, you two have to work this out.”
“No way are you walking back alone.”
“It’s safe in the country, remember?”
“I said no!”
“Oh, so you’re protective of her?” Shelby demands. “No, you go Willow! Go! You aren’t welcome here!”
“Look,” I begin as Ben starts telling her she’s the one who’s not welcome. “I’m so sorry for everything. I'm going to go.”
She walks up and slaps me. Ben roars, “What the fuck?!” He grabs Shelby and hauls her over his head, carrying her outside. “You okay? Stay there!” he commands me.
“I’m okay!” I shout as she thrashes all the way outside, cursing like crazy. I hear them shouting on the porch and my heart aches so bad. This is such a mess! Is there anything I can do?
I run to a window in the living room — easier to listen through — and stay out of eyesight of where the battles is playing out.
“I knew she was a problem! I knew it!”
“You don’t want this life, and you don’t want me, Shelby! You just want a free fucking ride!”
“How dare you!”
“Just admit it!”
“You already found someone?!”
“That’s not the point!”
“I can’t believe you have her in our house!”
“It’s my house. You left months ago when I ended it. Now if you’d just sign the divorce papers?—”
“—Fat chance!”
“—we could both move on with our lives!” I’m expecting her to start crying but she doesn’t. I would be. I’d be bawling my eyes out if I found a woman in the house where I built a life I thought I’d keep.
Instead she starts calling him a bunch of names, the final one — loser.
I’m shocked, and furious. I start to shout, He’s not a loser!
But he says something that stops Shelby and I cold. “You wanna be married to a rich man living back in the city so go do that!”
Silence.
My heart is pounding as I wait for a reaction, a shout, more cursing, anything. What I don’t expect is to crane my head to hear her whisper, “I don’t know how to do that. I don’t know where to begin.”
More silence.
Ben’s voice comes patient and cautious, “You get a place in Atlanta and go meet people. There are a lot of guys who could give you the life you want. You know I’ve never been that guy. You’ve been just as miserable as I am in this.”
More silence.
Finally she says so quietly I almost don’t catch it, “What about Jonny? Men don’t want a woman who already has a child.”
“Bullshit.”
“It’s true!”
Silence.
In a measured tone, Ben offers, “I’ll take care of Jonny and you can have visitation rights. As often as you want. ”
More fucking silence.
I am waiting with bated breath!
I hear pacing, lighter footsteps than his ever could be so it must be her who’s doing the ruminating. “Would he hate me?”
He spells it out for her. “A child needs to see their parents happy. We’re his guide. We haven’t been happy for years. He feels that. If you do this, but you make sure to keep him in your life — take the time, come up and visit, have him there to visit you — then he won’t hate you. He’ll get to know a mother he can respect.”
She shouts, “Are you saying he doesn’t respect me?”
“I’m saying no one respects you.”
A loud gasp reaches my ears. Then sobs. Real wracking sobs that melt my heart and force me to peek outside the curtains. As she cries. “I want to be respected,” Ben reaches for her and pulls her weeping body into his strong arms.
“You need to do what will make you happy, Shelby, and make room for Jonny to be a part of that new life. You need to build yourself up into what you believe you can be.”
Weeping gasps. “New…life? I want…a…new life!”
I watch him inhale and tighten his hold on her, saying with patience and gentleness, “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”
“I could visit him whenever I want?”
“I’ll even drive him to the city anytime you wanna see him. ”
“Can I have the Jeep?”
“No.”
She laughs into his shoulder, and he smiles. I step back before I’m seen, feeling like I just witnessed a miracle here tonight.
Something broke.
Often that’s a bad thing.
But this was for the better.