Chapter Ten
Bea
Every year, on a Friday before Christmas (not necessarily in conjunction with the winter solstice, an inconsistency that drove Bea to distraction), Main Street closed to traffic so local businesses and crafters could set up booths for holiday shopping. This year, Toni had arranged for Heron Acres to have a mulled wine stall, where she ladled the spice-studded brew into paper cups. It was next to a food truck selling hot, fresh doughnuts and the aroma in their corner of the market was drawing the biggest crowd of the evening. Last week’s rain had softened to snow in time to blanket the street and rooftops in a few inches of white. The whole scene resembled a real-world version of someone’s mantle-top Christmas diorama. As they strolled through the booths, Bea filled Heron in on her most recent conversations with Ben.
“Bea,” Heron was exasperated. “He was trying to ask you out for New Year’s Eve.” By now, Heron had heard a somewhat censored version of all the details of Bea and Ben’s incipient romance. She had the grace not to gloat about her role in bringing them together, but she had given them a groan-worthy mashed up couple name. Heron saying she was on “Team Bean” was almost enough to make Bea throw the idea of dating Ben out the window completely.
“That’s silly,” Bea said. “If he wanted to take me out on New Year’s he’d ask. Wouldn’t he?”
Heron looked skeptical. “Not after you put the brakes on things. He might think it’s too big a step. Or,”—she scrunched up her face—“he thinks you’ll think it’s too big a step. It can be kind of a big deal, the kissing at midnight and everything.”
“Oh.” Bea sipped her wine. “I guess. This is exhausting. No wonder Herschel is my chosen life partner.”
Heron giggled and shoved her on the arm with a mittened hand. “It’s fun. Anyway, why don’t you invite him to Dad and Toni’s party?” Bea was considering this—she supposed she could text him—when Heron cupped her hands and called, “Ben!” Then she was waving him over.
Shit. Now? She quickly smoothed her hair as Ben dodged through the crowd, making his way toward them. He’d traded his Converse in for snow boots and his Cubs cap for a red and blue knit hat. Snowflakes gathered on the yarn and when he got closer Bea saw one clinging to his eyelashes. She suppressed the urge to reach up and brush it away. “I thought you’d gone to Illinois,” she said.
“I leave tomorrow.” His smile broke through the chill of the evening. “I was hoping I’d see you here.”
“Here I am,” she said, extending her hands in a ta-dah gesture and then immediately scolding herself. Dork. “Charlie went back to Connecticut right after his last final, but Heron doesn’t leave until tomorrow, so we’re having a girl’s night out.” She turned to include Heron in the conversation, but she was gone. Bea spotted her several yards away, disappearing into the crowd. “I guess I’ll catch up with her later.”
“Great. I have you all to myself.”
Her cheeks grew warm as she slipped her arm through his extended elbow. They strolled through the warren of booths and stalls, stopping for a minute to listen to a group of carolers in Dickensian garb sing “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree,” a juxtaposition that struck both of them funny.
“You know,” she said after they’d passed out of range and stopped snickering, “if you want to see me you could always just text me. Or call. Or email. I’m in the college directory, even.”
“I know.” His tone was glib. “But I kind of like the kismet.”
“Kismet?”
“Yeah, you know, like, trusting we’ll run into each other if we’re fated to spend time together that day. Our paths do seem to cross pretty often.”
When she’d been avoiding Ben, he’d seemed to pop up around every corner, although now that she was looking for him in the hopes of feeling the little zing she got when their eyes met, it didn’t seem to happen as often as she would like. “Ha. You should talk to Heron about that.”
“Oh, I know, she’s very into celestial guidance, isn’t she? Don’t tell me she got it from you.”
“No,” Bea said emphatically. “While I have some interest in the overlap between myth and astronomy, I come down firmly on the side of science. I did my best to encourage Heron to be sensible, but she got interested in this stuff when she badly needed something to believe in and I guess there’s no real harm done.” She didn’t think Heron would mind if she told Ben about her history, especially since, with classes over, he wasn’t her professor anymore. Besides, there was enough town gossip, it was possible he’d already heard something. As they strolled through the market, she continued, “Her mom left the family when Heron was fifteen. ‘Left,’ as in, she was just gone one morning. Didn’t tell anyone she was going, left her phone on the nightstand. The police had been involved for two days before Len found a note saying she’d be in touch once she was settled.”
“Jesus,” Ben said.
“And then, a position opened in the department here right as I was finishing my doctorate and I was able to move back here and help them through it. That seemed like fate to Heron. To me it only seemed like a wonderful coincidence. I would have been thrilled to work at Messiman under any circumstances, but it came at a time when they needed a little extra family around.”
“Wow.”
“It’s nice for me to be near family, too. I’m an only child and I’m not especially close to my parents, so it’s kind of like my extended family became my chosen nuclear family.”
They were reaching the end of the market and the sounds of music and chatter were growing faint, the smell of popcorn and cinnamon fading, but neither of them suggested turning around.
“Yeah,” Ben said, “I felt lucky to land back here too, actually. When the position opened up at the library, I felt like it was my shot to take, or my shot to blow.”
“Well, you also make your own luck, don’t you? I worked my ass off in grad school to make myself a good candidate for a position like this one. I had references on the faculty here and I rocked my interviews. I bet you did, too.”
“Oh my,” Ben clapped a hand to his heart. “Are you actually acknowledging that I have some expertise in my field?”
“Stop it,” she said, but she was laughing. “I did see an article recently, about how horoscopes and tarot are getting more popular. It’s a mindfulness thing, a way of learning to see opportunities. That makes more sense to me,” Bea said. Regarding Heron, it certainly did; Bea knew her therapist had encouraged her to explore mindfulness and meditation as a way to manage her anxiety. “Things are set up for you a certain way by fate or a deity or luck or whatever, but it’s up to you to align everything and make it fall into place.”
“We’ve both done a bit of that,” Ben said.
They walked on in the crystal quiet of the evening. Bea listened to their feet crunching in the snow. She was trying to think of something else to say, something wry and breezy, but her wit failed her. Maybe it was just as well to leave the spell unbroken.
They passed a deserted block where a dentist’s office and insurance agency sat closed for the evening, their storefronts lit by twinkling white lights. By unspoken mutual agreement, they stopped walking and Bea was sure one of them was going to suggest turning back to the market. Right as she was about to speak, snow began to drift from the sky in fat storybook flakes.
Okay universe, hint taken. Bea cupped Ben’s face in her gloved hands and pulled it toward hers.
Heron
After Heron left Bea chatting with Ben, she indulged in a self-satisfied grin. She spotted her friends Luke and Jamie near the cider booth. They both went to school in Seattle, and she hadn’t seen them since summer.
“Hey!” said Jamie, leaning in to hug her. “Let me see your ring!” Heron had posted engagement photos, but she wasn’t going to turn down an opportunity to show the ring off in person. She took off her mitten and held her hand out for Jamie to see.
Luke gave a low whistle, “Dang, Heron, congratulations.”
“Thanks.” She slid her mitten back on.
“Hey,” Luke said, “I know Dave is happy for you, too.”
“Oh.” Awkward. Dave was Luke’s best friend and they’d all hung out together in high school, when she’d been dating Dave. They’d broken up after graduation and expected to stay friends, but then she met Charlie and they fell out of touch. While she saw Luke occasionally because he could usually be found wherever Jamie was, she hadn’t heard from Dave in a long time. “Thanks. How is he?”
“He’s great. He graduated a semester early and is already starting at a gaming company.” Luke laughed. “He’s a total overachiever now.”
“Good for him.” In high school, Dave had been a bit of a slacker, but apparently game design had sparked his drive. Once again, Heron was reminded that everyone else seemed to have found careers to be passionate about and all she wanted to focus on was her wedding. Then again, so what? Her grades were fine and there was nothing wrong with putting love first. Maybe Bea was starting to figure that out.
Jamie checked the time. “Hey, we’ve got to run if we want to catch our movie,” she told Luke, then said to Heron, “They’re showing Home Alone. Do you want to join us? I can see if they still have tickets.”
“Thanks, but I’m good. I have some errands to run.” With Bea, Toni, and her dad otherwise occupied, this was a good opportunity to finish up her Christmas shopping. Jamie slipped her hand into Luke’s as they walked away.
The couples all around made her miss Charlie. He was expecting his LSAT results back any time, and she was eager to hear how it went. She texted, “Thinking of you, Charlie Brewster, future esquire. I love you.”
She expected him to reply as she wandered the market stalls, but her phone remained silent. It was late on the east coast though. And she would see him Sunday. She could hardly wait to meet Charlie’s siblings and see his house and hometown, and be near him again.
She was thinking about last minute packing and considering whether a jar of sweet onion relish, a Millet specialty, would be a good hostess present for Charlie’s mother when she heard a voice close behind her left ear. “Hi, Heron.”
She started, and turning, saw Jason standing right next to her. Right, they were probably some of the only Messiman students who hadn’t left for the holidays. “Oh. Hey.”
“Stocking your little pantry?”
She put the jar down. “Well, um, just doing some Christmas shopping.”
“Cool, cool. Where’s Charlie? I thought you were making a big deal out of spending Christmas together this year since you’re engaged and everything.”
She frowned. They might have talked about it a little—it was exciting—but they weren’t making a “big deal” out of it. As usual, Jason’s demeanor made her uncomfortable. It was attentive but devoid of friendliness.
Frazzled, she made a conscious effort to keep her tone light. “Charlie went home to Connecticut a few days ago. I’ll fly out to join him there tomorrow.”
“A trip to the family estate, nice. Give you a chance to see how the other half lives. And with Charlie away, you’ll have a chance to see Dave tonight. Nice for you.”
What the heck was he talking about?
“No,” she said evenly, “I haven’t seen Dave since the summer before sophomore year, actually. I heard he’s working now in Seattle. Why would you think that?”
Jason winked at her, but there was no charm or playfulness in his expression. “You seemed so close when we were all in school together.”
“We were, but that was a long time ago. You know how these things change.” The hair rose on the back of her neck. Jason was standing too close, regarding her too intently. Her desire to put distance between them overcame her ingrained politeness and she took a step backward into the flow of foot traffic, muttering, “Excuse me,” as a family group split up to move around her.
“I sure do, Heron,” he said gravely, looking directly into her eyes over the heads of the children scurrying between them, brandishing candy canes. “I sure do. Have a Merry Christmas now.” He disappeared into the crowd, leaving Heron confounded and unsettled among the lively shoppers.
Bea
Kissing Ben this time felt different to Bea than the others. Portland had been surprising, then frantic and desperate, as if she had to drink in as much of him as possible before the spell broke. The planetarium was illicit, then frustrating. This, this was just, fun. By unspoken agreement, they took turns guiding their kisses. First it was Bea using her gloved hand on the back of Ben’s head to bring him where she wanted him, then it was Ben weaving his fingers into her hair, faces close and breath coming in sharp bursts between kisses. Mirth bubbled up from deep within her, and she broke the embrace with an undignified giggle.
Ben grimaced. “I’m so very glad I can amuse you.” But then he laughed too. He took her hand and squeezed, their gloves padding the interlace of their fingers.
Bea looked up at him through the snowflakes gathering on her hair and in her eyes. “How early is your flight tomorrow?” she asked in a tone she hoped sounded flirtatious rather than administrative.
His voice, when he replied, had a husky rumble that shot straight through her legs, putting her off balance. “Not until late morning. I have all the time in the world.”
She grinned and said, “I think we’ve pumped the brakes for long enough and therefore it seems perfectly sensible to ask if you’d like to come home with me for a nightcap.”
“A nightcap?” He quirked a brow. “How fancy. I didn’t realize I was dating Grace Kelly.”
“You should be so lucky,” she said, flicking a little snow off his shoulder.
“Do you need to tell your cousin you’re leaving?”
“She’s getting a ride home with her dad. But I’ll text her.” She waited until they were in the car to take off her gloves and send a message to Heron, who responded with the thumbs up, flame, and grin emojis.
They made it through half a whisky each, an introduction of Ben to Herschel (who was not impressed but didn’t hide under the bed—a pretty solid endorsement), and a tour of precisely half of Bea’s tiny house before wandering hands caused them to drop the pretense.
“Come on, then,” Bea said from the bottom stair, extending a hand toward him.
“Gosh,” he said, “do all of your gentleman callers get ordered into your bedroom?”
She rolled her eyes. “What gentleman callers?” To his raised eyebrow, she said, “I don’t get out much.”
“Or in,” he said, but his voice was gentle.
“Don’t make a big deal of it, okay? It’s just that I’m pretty busy, and I’m…an acquired taste.” He looked like he was about to interrupt her, and she cut him off before he could get a word in. “I simply don’t see much point in bothering unless someone is pretty special.” Halfway through the sentence she regretted it. The whisky must have obliterated her filter. Surely Ben was not going to let that go without some teasing.
Indeed, Ben’s brows shot up and his mouth opened, but she kissed him before he could respond, running her hands down his back and into the pockets of his jeans.
“Don’t read too much into that,” she said softly, her mouth directly at his ear.
His eyes, when he pulled back to look at her, burned into hers, but they had that little crinkle in the corner, which matched the one at the corners of his mouth and of which she’d grown so fond—funny how it used to annoy her so, making her think he was laughing at her rather than with her.
His voice was a whisper with a rough catch underneath when he answered. “I wouldn’t dare.”
It was more comfortable and familiar between them this time, trading the surprise of what they’d had in Portland for more certainty, and knowledge of each other’s likes and dislikes and downright favorites.
Finally exhausted, Bea drifted to sleep with the expectation that she’d wake up in the middle of the night again, self-conscious, and fretful about sharing the bed—if it had been a problem for her in a hotel surely her own turf would be worse. But she slept through the night, waking in the morning to a nudge on her shoulder, and Ben’s alarmed whisper.
“Bea.”
“Hmm?”
“Bea.” A little louder this time.
She opened her eyes completely and saw Herschel on the nightstand glaring daggers at Ben, who was clutching the covers over his chest like a scandalized Victorian lady.
“What does he want?”
“Breakfast. Don’t worry, you’re not it.” She shrugged into her robe and made her way to the kitchen, where she shook some kibble into Herschel’s bowl and started the coffee maker. The kitchen tile was cold under her feet. She finished her tasks and darted back up to the bedroom as quickly as possible, diving back into the warmth under the covers.
“Hello,” Ben said huskily, rolling over to spoon her. Then, he shrieked like a teenaged girl when her icy feet made contact with his bed-warm shins. “Holy shit. That is something else.”
“Well, my slippers are on your side of the bed. It’s your own fault.”
“Sure. Blame the victim.” His hand, resting on her hip, traced a lazy circle, but then he sat up. “Much to my regret, I need to get my bags and be at the airport about an hour from now.”
“I can drive you,” she said, starting to rise.
He reached for his jeans. “Stay. It’s only a couple of blocks to my apartment and I already have a car reserved to take me to the airport. I want to think about you exactly like this. Bedhead…” He tousled her hair. “Beard burn.” He caressed a spot on her neck. “But I come back on New Year’s Eve, and I’d like to take you out that night. And then, I’d like to take you out on a regular basis. Can we do that?”
She sat up so she could look at him more directly. The awkward sense of not knowing her lines was gone. “I suppose we could. Oh, except New Year’s Eve. We can go out, but I’ve got Len and Toni’s party at the winery. You want to come with me?”
Ben was dressed now, and he knelt in front of her, threading his fingers in her hair while his thumb brushed the side of her neck. “I would love to. If you wear that blue dress.” He kissed her, lingering a long time, his hand winding more deeply and more insistently into the hair at the nape of her neck before he pulled away with a groan. “Dammit, I really do have to go.”
“Can’t disappoint all those nieces and nephews.”
“No, ma’am.” In the bedroom doorway, he turned and said, “Merry Christmas, Bea.”
“Safe trip,” she said, and then Ben was gone, leaving her to reckon with the aftermath of her own audacity. Did Ben truly want to start a full-fledged relationship? More importantly, did she?