An Ever Fixéd Mark (8 page)

“
Where to?” he met her
eyes briefly before getting back into the traffic.

“Newton. You can just cross the river and
get on the Pike. Get off at the hotel exit… and that will get you
pretty close to my apartment.”

“That sounds easy enough.”

“Thanks,” Lizzie wasn’t able to segue into
her invitation.

“Not at all,” Ben shook his head. “I wasn’t
going to leave you to hobble back to the T.”

“I’m lucky you happened to walk by.”

Ben took in a short breath. “Pretty
lucky.”

Lizzie didn’t understand why he hesitated
like that. Did he regret being her savior? She felt her confidence
sink deep into her stomach.

“So are you training for another marathon?”
he asked casually, as if it were an automated response to picking
up women with sprained ankles.

“I’m running a 10K at the end of next month.
Hopefully this will heal by then,” Lizzie sighed as they crossed
the Charles

“It takes four to six weeks to heal
completely. You can get a brace and work back gradually,” he said
matter of factly and turned his head. “When’s the race?”

“Six weeks.”

“I’m sure you’ll do okay. You’ve got strong
muscle.”

Lizzie bit her lip. Was that a compliment or
a casual observation? “I work at a hospital,” Lizzie laughed at
herself. “I know a doctor or two.”

“I know… just take it easy for the rest of
the weekend,” he cleared his throat. “Have you heard from Sara
lately? How’s she doing?”

Lizzie let out a sigh and with it her hopes
for dinner. “She seems okay,” Lizzie answered, not that she was an
authority on how Sara was doing. Pretty much anyone who was a
Facebook friend could deduce what she could tell Ben. “She had her
baby.”

“Oh?” Ben clearly didn’t pay attention to
Facebook.

“Jack and I talked about going to
Connecticut to visit her,” Lizzie continued. “But we haven’t really
gotten around to it.”

“How’s Jack? Have you been to see his band
play recently?” he continued as though the questions were
predetermined and the answers didn’t really matter.

“
Jack’s all right. I
haven’t gone to see the band lately,” she didn’t want to think
about the band… or the drummer. She looked away to the sign
indicating the necessary exit.

“
Send him my regards,” Ben
nodded as they took the exit. “You’ll have to guide me from
here.”

Lizzie was glad to give up the conversation
for navigation of the half miles and turns to her house. She didn’t
see Meg’s car and figured Jackie wasn’t apt to come down and help
her up the stairs. Lizzie picked up her sneaker and looked at Ben.
What would it hurt to ask him? Just to say thank you?

He looked straight ahead, through the
windshield. His thoughts seemed to be somewhere beyond Jefferson
Park or the fact that she was sitting beside him. Was he thinking
back to his question about Sara? Or a regret that he ignited a
conversation with a one night stand he preferred to let alone and
ignore? Lizzie was sure she had his expression on herself when she
left Jack’s house that January night.

“Elizabeth,” he began and let a deadening
silence rest between them. “I…”

“Thank you so much for driving me home. I’m
sorry if I got mud on your seat,” Lizzie said quickly and opened
the door to get herself out. Before she knew it, he was beside her
to help her out of the seat.

“You need to keep the pressure off your
ankle,” he lifted her into his arms. He took the key from her hand
and carried her up the stairs. He settled her softly back on her
good foot, slowly unwinding his arms from her side. She was very
close to him. Almost touching her torso against his. She could feel
his breath against her exposed neck. She wanted to kiss him. She
didn’t want to kiss him. She couldn’t do that to herself and let
him walk away. He would walk away. She saw that in his vacant gaze
out the windshield. She wanted to kiss him very very badly. She
felt herself slowly lean a little closer as the door to the
bathroom opened at the end of the hall.

Lizzie stepped back and remembered the pain
of her ankle. Jackie came into view and quickly surveyed the
situation. “Hi Jackie,” Lizzie recovered herself. “This is my
friend, Ben.”

Jackie narrowed her dark eyes with semi
interest. “What happened to you?”

“I slipped when I went running and hurt my
ankle.”

“Oh,” Jackie’s unpleasantness softened into
sympathy. “Let me get you some ice.”

“You should get off that foot, Elizabeth,”
Ben urged as Jackie left for the kitchen. His eyes looked at her…
was it sadness or pity that reflected against their green tint?

“Yeah,” she locked his gaze for a few
seconds, feeling another urge to leap at him for a kiss as Jackie
returned with a bag of frozen vegetables.

“We don’t have peas,” she laughed. “But I
think broccoli will work. We forgot to fill the ice trays.”

“Broccoli will work,” Ben winked and went
down the stairs.

“Thanks, Ben,” Lizzie said softly and let
Jackie guide her to the sofa.

Chapter Seven

Lizzie looked at the Facebook updates and
switched back to her word document. She had been alternating
screens every five minutes for two weeks now. There was never
anything indicating the presence of Ben on the social networking
site. Nothing to reveal what he was doing since he left her at the
top of her stairs. Nothing in her inbox to ask if she felt better.
It was a foolish habit and just made the day drag even more.

She started typing a status update about her
boredom but was distracted when the door to the office opened,
ushering in Richard, Dr. Chiang, and their lunch partner. “Lizzie,
you know Gerard Fulton,” Richard approached Lizzie’s desk after
taking Gerard’s coat.

“You’re the girl from the house,” Gerard
paused to recognize her with his waspy blue eyes. It wasn’t a look
of admiration.

Lizzie forced her smile. “Yes I work there
on alternate Saturdays,” Lizzie held out her hand kindly.

“We are lucky to have Lizzie on staff,”
Richard said as his phone rang. “She has told us many interesting
facts about your ancestors.”

Lizzie smiled at Gerard and Dr. Chiang as
Richard politely excused himself to take his call. She wondered if
the Fulton heir was as charmed by Dr. Chiang as everyone else when
a pager buzzed the surgeon’s coat pocket. Lizzie directed her to
another desk and phone to use, leaving Lizzie alone with Gerard
Fulton. She tried not to linger too long in awkward silence,
knowing how important Gerard’s money was to the hospital. “Have you
visited Brattle Street recently, Mr. Fulton?” she asked
politely.

“Not since the end of the summer, I’m
afraid,” he actually seemed to perk up at the opportunity to
discuss the house.

“I was there last Saturday. I always like
the early spring in that house. The light seems to best highlight
some details in March and April – before all the leaves block out
the sun,” Lizzie smiled, but was uncertain when he offered nothing
to fill the next silence. “Do you know who Lotty might be?”

“Lotty?”

“A few months back, my manager showed me a
letter that Harriet had written to someone named Lotty,” Lizzie was
inspired by her preoccupation with the Fulton daughter.

“That was probably Charlotte,” Gerard stated
the fact proudly. “The wife of Horace, John’s son from his first
marriage.”

“Oh,” Lizzie felt satisfaction for both
intriguing him in conversation and answering a minor mystery. It
was something she could include on the tour. She had it straight
from the mouth of a Fulton.

“She was English,” Gerard continued. “I
can’t remember the history of her family. Horace started to invest
in a ship building company south of Boston, but he died before
making his own fortune.”

“I didn’t know that,” Lizzie responded. She
actually didn’t want to know that.

“I didn’t know there was such a letter,”
Gerard said abruptly.

“Yes, it is in the museum archives.”

“Hm,” Gerard muttered. “Harriet married
Lazarus Benedict. He was from the North Shore.”

“We don’t know very much about Harriet,”
Lizzie commented hopefully.

“It is a pity about that chair,” Gerard
looked at her.

“The chair?”

“In Harriet’s room. It gets far too much
exposure from the sun. It is a fine piece. You must do something
about preserving it.”

“Yes,” Lizzie smiled empathetically.

“Tell Jonathan he should get some better
shades for that room,” Gerard advised as Dr. Chiang returned to the
conversation.

“I will,” Lizzie assented, even though she
seldom had reason to speak with the curator never mind the
authority to tell him how to maintain the property.

“Gerard, I apologize for that,” Dr. Chiang
interrupted.

“That’s all right. Leslie is very kind.”

“Yes, Lizzie is very helpful,” Dr. Chiang
smiled once more before leading him into Richard’s office.

Lizzie laughed to herself and returned to
her computer as Richard closed the door. She sat back at her
computer, with no added tasks from her idling before. She clicked
over to Google and typed in Charlotte Fulton. She saw a genealogy
page that confirmed she was married to Horace Fulton, son of John
and his first wife, Caroline. There was a link to an art
collection, tracing the original purchase back to a Charlotte
Fulton in 1858. Lizzie wasn’t sure if it was the same Charlotte
Fulton. Perhaps. But… not much else. She clicked on the image
option – just in case there was some random portrait out there.
There were a lot of modern photos of Charlottes and Fultons… but no
Charlotte Fulton. On the next page, she found a silent movie star
in a mysterious black and white photo. Lizzie clicked on that
picture and found a profile. That Charlotte Fulton appeared in a
number of films in the 20’s of which Lizzie had never heard. Well…
she had some more information, but nothing interesting or in depth
enough for a good story on her tour. All she could say, really, was
that Harriet wrote A letter ONCE to her sister in law. Not really
that exciting.

Lizzie remembered there was another name in
the letter. Mr. Chester. She typed in Charlotte Fulton Chester in
the search icon. Another genealogy page showed up. There were too
many words and too many names for Lizzie to understand how they all
connected to one another. She scrolled down to find Charlotte
Fulton or Chester. Her eyes froze on the sight of Benjamin Chester.
Her heart skipped as her cheeks flushed immediately. So much for
distracting herself from those thoughts.

She clicked out of Google and back to
Facebook. A red notification popped up to say she was tagged in a
few photos someone finally put from the reunion. She was in three
of them. There was one with Sara. One with Dan and Delany Stewart.
And one with Ben. She lingered on that image and let herself be
mesmerized by the happiness of the gray green eyes. She liked how
she looked in that picture. The multiple glasses of wine didn’t
show. She looked… happy. Like he did. They looked like… a
couple.

She habitually clicked to see who else was
logged on. She saw Ben’s name. Was he looking at the picture of
them together and thinking… what might he be thinking? Lizzie went
back to the picture and selected the link to his profile from his
tag. It looked as though he caught up with his negligence of
Facebook within the past ten minutes. He was friends with ten new
people… including Delany Stewart. There wasn’t much else. Nothing
to show what he was thinking. She looked over to his profile and
saw the same succinct explanations for his place of employment and
education. He hadn’t revealed his interests, activities, music, or
films. She went back to the picture of them together and saw he
removed the tag identifying himself.

Lizzie’s heart sank. It was so silly and so
relatively minor. But… why didn’t he want the Facebook world to see
him partnered with her? Did they look too much like a couple? Did
he not want anyone in particular to see that and get the wrong
impression? A girlfriend he already had? Or… God forbid… a
wife?

She shut her eyes and took in a deep breath
as the door to Richard’s office opened. Dr. Chiang hastened back to
the desk to make another phone call. Richard escorted Gerard to his
coat and thanked him for his time. Gerard Fulton nodded to Lizzie,
muttering something else about the chair in Harriet’s room. All the
words blended together, but she managed to force a smile and keep
her eyes dry enough to not make the wretchedness she felt more
obvious.

“He was impressed with you, Lizzie,”
Richard’s words were clear as he came over to her desk, landing a
small piece of paper in front of her.

Lizzie looked down at the check for fifty
thousand dollars. She managed to place herself back to the hospital
for a few seconds and met Richard’s eyes. “That was generous of
him.”

“And it’s just the first installment,”
Richard winked. “Make sure you follow up about that chair business
if you can. Mt. Elm will appreciate it.”

“Yeah,” Lizzie said mechanically.

“If you want to type up the thank you
letter, you can leave early this afternoon,” Richard offered.

“Thanks,” Lizzie smiled and made herself
close the Internet browser and go back into Word.

“A success,” Dr. Chiang took Richard’s hand
before he returned to his office and shut the door. Lizzie looked
away from her computer to Dr. Chiang lingering by the desk. “Do you
like working at the Fulton House?”

Lizzie was startled by the sudden question
and didn’t know how to quiet her thoughts to register an honest
answer. Just a polite, simple, “Yes.”

“
Maybe I’ll take a tour
someday. I’ve heard so much about it.”

Lizzie resisted the disbelief from
registering on her face. Lizzie knew she had reason to flatter
Gerard Fulton about his family’s history… but why offer Lizzie the
insincere comment about hearing so much about a museum people only
discovered by accident or through tourist guides? Lizzie took in a
deep breath, annoyed with her peevish lack of patience. She
shouldn’t jeopardize her professional relationships because she was
insulted by Ben Cottingham. “I’d be happy to give you a tour
sometime.”