Chapter Eighteen
On the weekends and even some evenings after work when she was in Austin, Libby often took a book to the park near her apartment and spent a few hours with her back propped against a live oak tree. After the emotional roller coaster she had been on the night before, she needed a day of rest as much as—or maybe even more than—Benny did. They had both been sick. His illness had been physical, so a day of rest in the fresh air and sunshine would help heal him. Hers might never fully heal because it was mental, but escaping in a good book might help with the symptoms.
Talk to someone. Benny. Opal and Minilee. You need to get this out of you, or it will eat you alive. The voices were back, but thankfully, this one didn’t belong to Victoria. Libby didn’t want to talk to her again for a long time, if ever.
“Not today. I need to get away from everything today.” Libby packed a tote bag full of sandwiches and snacks.
She finished that job and crammed a quilt and a small throw pillow into another bag, along with three books. She stared at the letter lying on the cabinet for several seconds before she finally picked it up and stuck it between the pages of the book she planned to read. Maybe she would look at it once again before she took it to work with her and shredded it.
Fancy danced around her feet the whole time she was putting things together.
“Yes, you can go with us,” Libby said, “but only if you promise me you won’t get in the water, and if you won’t follow Elvis off on one of his adventures. A hawk could carry you off as quickly as he could a rabbit.”
She snapped a leash to Fancy’s collar and picked up a tote bag in each hand. The little dog yipped once, jumped up and down several times like a windup toy, and stretched the leash out to the end when she ran to the door.
“Silly girl. If you trip me, neither of us will be going anywhere,” Libby said with a giggle.
The sky was that lovely shade of summer blue, and there wasn’t a single cloud anywhere in sight when she and Fancy met Benny coming out of his trailer. Sunrays glistened in the water droplets still hanging on to his hair. A nice little breeze sent the scent of his shaving lotion over to her and stirred up feelings she hadn’t had in a long time.
“I’ll carry one of those bags for you,” he offered.
She handed him the lighter one, and together they headed down the path toward the river.
“I have to warn you that I may die of boredom before we ever get to have a picnic lunch. I can’t remember the last time I had a whole morning to do nothing. If I wasn’t out looking for merchandise, then I was spending my time trying to bring some order to the office—which, as you know, I failed miserably at. By the way, thank you again for taking care of me. I’m at ninety percent this morning. Still a little fatigued but feeling much better. I’ll be ready to unload the trailer after we have our picnic.”
“We’ll see about that when we’ve made it to the river,” she told him.
“Yes, we will,” he declared in a determined tone, then changed the subject. “Look at Elvis hanging back to protect Fancy. Did I tell you that my friend also had a Jack Russell terrier when he got Elvis? The two dogs were great friends until Rusty died about a month before my friend’s accident.”
“Nope, you never mentioned it. I guess there’s a lot we haven’t discussed.” Libby shifted the bag over to her other shoulder so she could keep a better grip on Fancy’s leash.
“We’ve got lots of time,” he said, huffing with effort.
Libby slowed her pace a little, and then a little more a couple of minutes later. “Almost six months, anyway.”
“Yep, and then we’ll write up a new contract that has no end date.”
Benny’s breath was coming even harder now, and Libby deliberately slowed down more. The muddy, swampy scent of the river had replaced the sexy smell of his shaving lotion, so she knew they were nearing the water. They rounded one more curve, and she went straight for a willow tree growing back against a bank that had been carved out by time and lots of floods. She took the tote bag from Benny and spread the quilt out under its shade, laid the pillow at the top edge, and sat down.
Benny joined her, removed his sandals, and set them off to one side. “So, this is the spot?”
“Yes, it is,” Libby answered. “You can’t tell me that you’ve never been down here before. You run the path every morning that you are home.”
“I’ve been down here, but not to this exact spot. I usually only run to the end of the path; then I turn around and go back home. That gets my three miles. Grandpa enjoyed fishing when I was a kid, but he didn’t have much time for it later in life. I came with him a couple of times, but I was way too hyper to sit still—and still am,” Benny said. “What do we do now? Watch the river flow or the sun make its way to the top of the sky?”
Libby handed him two books. “We read until noon. Choose one, and either lean on one of the trees or lay back on a pillow. You’ll be surprised what a whole day away from your normal duties will do for your body and soul when you get lost in a story.”
“Are you sure you weren’t studying to be a therapist?” He looked over both books and set one aside.
“Not me,” she replied. “I can’t even analyze my own problems.”
“What’s this?” He pulled the letter from the book in his hands. “Please don’t tell me it’s your two-week notice.”
She plucked the letter from his hand. “I gave you the wrong book. That’s the one I need to finish for the club meeting on Monday. This is your other choice.” She offered him the third book she had brought.
“Do you want the pillow?”
“No, that’s for you. I intend to use the trunk of the tree for a back rest. I used to go to the park near my apartment on Sunday afternoons and take a good book with me.”
“What did you do on Saturdays?” he asked.
“I volunteered to watch kids at a local women’s shelter,” she answered as she scooted back on the blanket and opened up to the last page she’d read. She reached the end of the chapter and realized that if she were to take a test on what she’d been reading, she would fail miserably. The words had gone through her mind, but her thoughts were on that letter at her side.
“Okay, I need to talk,” she said.
Benny put his book aside and sat up. “What about?”
She picked up the letter and tossed it over in his lap. “That thing.”
He glanced down at it. “What is it?”
“Read the letter, and then we’ll talk,” she snapped, and she caught the edge in her voice. “Wait ... Benny, I’m sorry I came off like that. I don’t want to tell you what’s written in that thing. I want you to read it and tell me how it would affect you if your name was on the outside instead of mine.”
Benny held it for a few seconds. “Are you sure about this? Seems to me like whatever is in this has caused you a lot of pain.”
“A lot of pain, and even more anger and enough tears to flood this river, and I need a friend to talk to about it,” she answered. “I’m not asking for sympathy, just for your opinion. Victoria left it for me, and I’ve had the box it was in since she died. But I only got up enough courage to unpack it last night. I found that letter among some keepsakes from my childhood and a couple of photographs of my parents.”
“If you are sure ...” He pulled the letter out of the envelope and read through both pages, then flipped back to the front page and read it again. Then he folded it, put it back into the envelope, and handed it to her. His brow furrowed and his mouth set in a firm line. “You have every right to be angry and feel betrayed. I’m surprised that you are as calm as you are. Do you think you’ll ever trust anyone again?”
“I don’t know about trust, but you hit the nail on the head when you said betrayed and angry. And yet I feel sorry for Victoria for being saddled with a child that wasn’t even hers. Does that make sense to you?” Tears filled her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She had cried enough for a lifetime.
Benny slid across the quilt, wrapped his arms around her, and drew her to his side. “I can see tears about to run down your cheeks. Grandpa used to say that tears on the outside wash the pain away, but tears on the inside stick to the soul and stay. So go ahead and cry. Get it all out.”
“I’ve cried enough. I’m a big girl. I’m strong and independent; I can be grateful to Victoria for teaching me that much. Thank you for understanding.” Libby couldn’t remember a time when anyone had held her like Benny was doing. Unlike a couple of previous relationships, when the guy holding her had wanted something in return, Benny was simply being a friend. A good friend.
She finally moved away from him and said, “How do I live with this, Benny? I don’t know who I am.”
“Are you the same person you were before you read it?” he asked.
“I guess so—except for bouts of anger, usually followed by tears,” she replied.
“Those are normal. It doesn’t matter who your parents were or who raised you. You’ve learned from your past how not to be, and you moved away from all that years ago. I’m here if you ever need to vent. After all, we’re more than just friends. You took care of me when I was physically ill. I’ll take care of you when your heart and soul hurt.”
She managed a weak smile. “You are getting the short end of the stick.”
“No, I’m not,” he disagreed. “This is just a bump in the road on the journey of life. Someday, you’ll look back on it and ...” He frowned. “Do you remember that old song about broken roads?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Well, someday you’ll bless the broken road that led you to Sawmill, where you found friends that love and appreciate you.”
“I hope so,” she whispered.
Benny opened his eyes to bright sunlight and wondered how he had slept so long. A small dog, not two inches from his nose, stared at him without blinking. The pillows must have gotten shifted, because they were shoved up against his back. And were ... solid? He jerked himself fully awake and sat straight up.
The dog yipped, and Elvis came running. Benny rubbed his eyes and realized where he was. He wasn’t in a hotel. The little dog was Fancy, and those had not been pillows against his back—that was Libby.
“Mmmm,” Libby murmured as she stretched out her long body, flipped over to face him, and smiled. “Did you have a good nap?”
“Yes, I did,” he answered. “Are you going to tell Opal and Minilee that we slept together?”
“What happens at the river, stays at the river,” she said and then sat up, pulled her knees up under her chin, and wrapped her arms around them. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving,” he replied with a nod.
She looked up at the sky. “Me too. It’s past time for lunch. The sun has already gone past straight up and is starting to sink toward the west.”
Benny reached for his phone, then remembered it was back at the trailer. “So, we are going to determine time by the sun?”
Libby pulled hero sandwiches wrapped in cellophane, a bag of chips, a container of guacamole dip, and two bottles of sweet tea from her tote bag. “We’ve got homemade cookies for dessert.”
“It all looks great.”
“If you don’t like any of the vegetables on the sandwich, just toss them into the river for the fish.” She brought out a baggie full of dog food for Fancy and one for Elvis. “I thought they might be hungry, too. I’ve seen them lapping up water from the river, so they’ll be fine with that.”
He picked up a sandwich, unwrapped it, and waited until she had dumped the dog food into a couple of disposable bowls before he handed it to her.
“Thank you,” she said and bit into it before she opened the bag of chips. “Being near water always makes me hungry.”
“What else is in the bag?” he asked.
“Supper,” she answered between bites.
“We’re staying all day?”
He had read a couple of chapters in the book before his long nap. His energy was restored, and he seemed to be over whatever twenty-four-hour bug had gotten hold of him the day before. He was ready to unload the trailer and get ready for business as usual the next morning.
“Of course we are. After we eat, we’ll take the dogs for a nice long walk down the riverbank and come back here to talk about what we’ve read and then read some more until suppertime,” she answered.
“How do you know when it’s time to eat again?”
“Here’s our afternoon agenda.” She pointed to the west. “When the sun begins to dip down below those trees, we’ll have supper, and then we’ll gather up all our stuff and head home. Do you think you can handle that much time unplugged from the world?”
“I’ll give it my best shot,” he said, “but know that I wouldn’t do this for anyone else. Not even Opal and Minilee.”
“Well, now.” She smiled. “That makes me feel special.”
“You are,” he said. “You’re my friend.”
“Yes, I am, and I appreciate your friendship.”
“So, after our walk, we come back here and read some more?” he asked.
“We do.” She nudged him on the shoulder. “Are you liking the book?”
“I am,” he said. “I can’t remember the last time I read a book for pleasure. I’m escaping into another world.”
“What has been your favorite line so far?”
“There’s this old fellow in it that reminds me of my grandfather. In one place, he’s arguing with his grandson and says ...” He paused, trying to remember word for word but couldn’t. “‘Forgive, forget, learn the lesson, and move on.’ As I read that part, I added another line: ‘With no regrets.’”
“Good words but hard to do.” She brought out a container of cookies and opened it.
He recognized the crisscross pattern on the top of each one. “Minilee makes peanut butter for me on my birthday. They’re my all-time favorite. What’s yours?”
“Probably sand tarts. June used to bring some to me at Christmas,” she answered. “The book I’m reading is set over the holidays. I can almost smell the cookies that the author talks about. There’s a line in it that I really like. It went something like this: ‘A heart that is hurt is like a broken bone. It takes time and a lot of tender loving care to make it whole again. If you don’t apply those two things the way you would a cast or medication, then it never heals properly.’ It made a lot of sense to me. I never thought of a heart being like that, or that it would need just as much help to get well as a broken bone.”
“Me neither.” Benny laid a hand on hers.