Chapter Twenty-Eight
Libby’s heart felt like someone had wrapped a rock around it with heavy chains when Benny was gone. Sure, she would like some time alone, but she hated the heaviness in her chest. She ran a warm bath and even put in vanilla-scented bath salts to relax her. The smell made her think of the shaving lotion Benny used—that woodsy stuff with a hint of vanilla in it. She got out of the tub before the water was even lukewarm and dressed in her rattiest old sleep shirt—the leftover one from her college days that was almost threadbare.
She picked up the book she was supposed to finish in time for book club at their next meeting, but after she’d turned the page several times, she couldn’t remember a word of what she had read. Her mind kept drifting back to the day she and Benny had gone to the river and the conversation they’d had about the stories they had been reading then.
Finally, she gave up and went to bed. She expected to fall right to sleep like she always did when Benny was beside her. She felt as if she had not made him understand why she wanted them both to have time alone: so they could be sure that the arrangement they had fallen into headfirst was right for both of them. What she’d said had apparently come out all wrong and made it sound like she was the one who needed space, when she really wanted to be sure of what they both wanted before they went any further.
“I don’t want this to be a fleeting romance that puts us both in too deep, too quick to get out of without regrets,” she told Fancy.
The dog hopped down from her place on the sofa and trotted across the floor. Libby picked her up and set her on the bed. The animal stuck her nose in Benny’s pillow and whimpered.
“Whose side are you on?” Libby grumbled and moved over to bury her own face in the pillow, inhaling deeply to get a good solid whiff of his scent. There was no getting to sleep, so she got up and paced in circles for a few minutes.
All the color sheets and pictures from the shelter kids that Dolly had sent her were taped to the broad side of the refrigerator. She stopped and looked at each of them, imagining their little faces as they worked on the special gifts for her. Someday, she wanted to hang things like that on a very different refrigerator—pictures her own children had made for her. And she wanted their father to be Benny.
“I can’t let this alone until tomorrow,” she whispered.
She went into the front room, peeked out the window, and saw the trailer’s lights were still on. She shoved her feet into the shoes she had kicked off earlier. “How do I know that my feelings are real? That this isn’t all just ...” She stopped midsentence when the lights in the trailer went out.
Before she could talk herself out of what was in her heart to do, she walked outside and closed the door behind her. Elvis raised up from the porch, but when he saw that it was Libby, he went back to sleep.
She took a deep breath, walked halfway across the distance, and lost her nerve. She couldn’t knock on his door. She had been the one who wanted space.
“I’ve changed my mind,” she said, and took another step.
She made it all the way up the steps to the trailer door and froze again. She had never made the first move in any relationship. Elvis’s cold nose prodded the back of her leg and scared her so badly that she almost tumbled backward. She had barely gotten her balance when the dog yipped a couple of times and scratched the door.
“I’m coming.” Benny’s voice sounded like it came from the back of the trailer.
Light suddenly flowed from the windows again and left a yellow path to the station. The door creaked when it opened, and Elvis raced inside. Benny was silhouetted by the light behind him inside the trailer and was wearing nothing but a pair of sleep shorts. Libby had seen him in far less clothing, but she stood there, speechless, before him, not knowing what to say or even where to begin.
“Did you get hot out there on the porch?” he asked the dog, and then his expression changed when he saw Libby standing on the other side of the top step. “Libby, is everything all right?”
“Not right now,” she answered. “Can we talk? On the porch?”
He stood to the side and motioned for her to come in. “It’s cool in here,” he said in a flat tone. “Come on in.”
Libby stepped into the tiny living area. Elvis took up most of the space on the small love seat that sat against one wall. She heard a noise and glanced to her left. Benny had pulled out a chair at a table for two. She sat down in it, and he brought out two beers from a refrigerator under the cabinet only a few feet away. He twisted the top off each of them and handed one to her.
She took a long drink and asked, “Are you going to say anything?”
“Not until you do. You’re the one who is calling this meeting,” Benny answered and sat down in the other chair.
She wanted to move over and sit in his lap and lay her head on his broad chest. She wanted to listen to his steady heartbeat the way she had done so many times before. But she knew that that wasn’t going to happen when his face was set in stone. She realized, without hearing any voices in her head, that she had caused this situation, so it was up to her to fix it.
“I was wrong.” She shifted her gaze from his face to the bottle of beer in front of her. “Having space means loneliness. Not trusting you, when you haven’t given me a single reason not to, is wrong. I’m sorry. I love you, Benny. Please, come back to the apartment.”
He reached across the table and took her hands in his. “Why? We’ve got a perfectly good bed right here.”
Her eyes darted up to his face, and the smile she saw there erased all the tension in her body. “Are you inviting me to spend the night here?”
“I’m asking you to spend every night from now on with me—either here or in your apartment. I want us to live together, but we really need to build a house so that we aren’t shifting from one place to the other all the time,” he answered. “It’ll confuse our dog children.”
“Don’t we need to talk this through some more?” she asked, fighting back a small smile of her own.
“Do you love me?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said without blinking.
Benny stood up, still holding both her hands. “I love you, too. That’s the beginning of making a foundation in every relationship. We’ll build on that.” He walked backward until they reached the edge of the bed. “One brick at a time, but love is the cornerstone.” He sat down and pulled her onto his lap.
“What if we argue? Will that destroy our foundation?”
He tilted up her chin and kissed her—long, lingering, and heat producing. “No, darlin’, we’ll just have makeup sex.”
Libby thought of what Minilee had said about starting fights with Floyd so they could go to the bedroom and make up. After the way she had felt when she and Benny were apart for a few hours, she vowed that she would never deliberately start an argument. If she had a valid opinion, she would stand by it, but if she wanted to have sex, she would just take Benny by the hand and lead him into the bedroom.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked as he strung kisses from her neck to her lips.
“Makeup sex,” she whispered. “And, Benny, I really do love you with all my heart and soul. I have fought with my feelings and with my trust issues, but I truly believe I’ve found closure, thanks to you.”
“And, Libby, I love you, too. We are going to be so happy together.”