The Preacher's Daughter (10 page)

Ben had never learned how. He knew where he came from. He knew where he wanted to go. He just didn’t know how to get there—how to set aside the burdens that weighed him down. Was he even worthy to keep company with people like the Chaneys? Was he right to feel unworthy yet protective of someone like Lorabeth? He stored the doubts in a little cubbyhole in his mind and ignored them.

The reverend read the story of Joseph and how his jealous brothers sold him into slavery, and Ben’s thoughts drifted to the kiss he and Lorabeth had shared. Her father would run him out of town on a rail if he knew.

Last night rose up and taunted him. Which was worse? Ben sullying Lorabeth’s innocence or another man making the attempt?

The other man, of course.

He couldn’t stop himself from turning and seeking out the man who’d been on his thoughts all night and this morning. He located the Tibbs family on the other side of the church, a few pews back.

Carter’s parents appeared engrossed in the message. Carter’s older brother and his wife stole secret looks at each other and held hands. Carter was studying the front pew where Lorabeth sat with her younger brother on her left and her older brother and his wife on her right.

Carter’s intense gaze traveled from the front of the church to fasten on Ben. He cast a barely perceptible nod. The greeting wasn’t as much of a hello as it was acknowledging the competition.

A warning that had been flickering to life inside Ben burst into flame. For now his focus zeroed in on protecting Lorabeth. He could best do that by keeping her safe. By not neglecting her or forsaking her to the wolves in sheep’s clothing.

He wasn’t completely fooling himself. He couldn’t deny that the idea of being Lorabeth’s guardian appealed to him on more than one level. He accepted the challenge in that moment while his gaze was locked with Carter’s.

The reverend summed up his message with a prayer. With Lillith on one arm, Ben quickly made his way to the front to escort Lorabeth from the church.

A short time later they were riding toward home in the buggy Caleb rented on Sundays. Lorabeth was seated with Lillith and David on either side of her, and Ben had sandwiched himself in the rear with Flynn and Nate. Anna was asleep on his lap.

A thought occurred to him in that instant—an awful thought. What if Lorabeth
preferred
Carter Tibbs’s company to his?

“Did you hear me?” Lillith asked over Lorabeth’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, what?” Ben asked.

“I said why did God make fleas? Mama said I should ask you ’cause you know all about animals.”

He thought that one over, seeking logic and finding none. “Maybe Lorabeth should answer that one. She knows more about God than I do.”

Lorabeth turned to give him a look that said,
Thanks a lot.

Caleb and Ellie exchanged amused glances in the front. Ben gave Lorabeth an innocent smile. Her tawny gaze held a measure of amusement.

“Some things we just don’t know,” Lorabeth replied easily. “God is much wiser than all of us, so if He thought fleas were a good idea, who are we to question Him?”

Ben was highly impressed when Lillith calmly accepted that answer and resumed her seat.

He made sure he maneuvered his duties so that he was in the kitchen with Lorabeth as she took a ham from the oven and placed it on a platter.

“I’ll slice,” he offered, reaching for a knife.

She used a masher on a pan full of potatoes and whipped them until they were fluffy.

“So you had a good time with Carter last night?” he asked as though it was of no concern to him one way or the other.

“Mr. Tibbs is quite nice. Did you have a chance to say hello this morning?”

“We acknowledged each other.” He stacked slices of meat. “I trust he was a gentleman.”

“Very much so. He was attentive and thoughtful.”

“Lorabeth.”

His serious tone caught her full attention. She turned a wide-eyed gaze on him.

“I’m concerned for you. You’re not used to the pranks and the games. You’ve led a very sheltered life.”

“Why are you concerned?” She frowned. “Are you disapproving of me wanting to make friends and have fun?”

“Of course not,” he answered quickly. “It’s just that, well, I’d feel responsible if anything were to happen. I introduced you to these people. You’re too unworldly to know the dangers.”

She raised her eyebrows. “What are they?”

The deeply buried memory of a dark night many years ago throbbed to life, seizing Ben’s mind and voice. All the helplessness and horror flashed into his awareness now. At a loss for words, he was relieved when Ellie joined them, her clothing changed.

She donned an apron. “My, aren’t the two of you an efficient team?”

She squeezed Ben around the waist affectionately and gave Lorabeth a little hug from behind.

Lorabeth turned to her in obvious surprise.

“I’ll pour milk and make sure the hooligans are washed and have the table set,” Ellie said, sweeping toward the back porch and the icebox.

Ben and Lorabeth worked in silence until Ellie returned with two pitchers and carried them to the dining room.

Gathering his thoughts, Ben finished with the ham and wiped his hands clean. “The dangers are probably beyond your understanding,” he told Lorabeth. “Men aren’t always who or what they seem. One of them could seduce you before you knew what had happened. Or…or worse.”

Lorabeth was stirring the contents of a pan on the stove, but she turned and stared at him. “Worse?”

He remembered the screams. The feeble cries. “Ignore your innocence and your wishes and compromise you.”

She gave him a puzzled look. “That’s pretty unclear.”

His anger was actually apprehension for her safety now that he thought it through. “All the more reason to be careful.”

“You’re truly afraid for me?”

Now that she’d put it so baldly, he had to admit it. “I am.”

“You know more about these things than I, Benjamin. I trust your judgment. I do so enjoy the home socials. So should I stop going?”

“No. It’s important to you. I’ll take you. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

Like the wolf guarding the sheep, he thought momentarily, then dashed that nagging worry away. He would keep her safe.

“That’s kind of you.”

“No, it’s selfish.” He’d be honest. She was honest.

“Because?”

“Because I don’t want to worry about you.”

Ellie returned and peered over Lorabeth’s shoulder at the smooth dark gravy. “Perfect.”

She reached into a cupboard for two china gravy boats and then helped pour.

“Are you as hungry as I am?” she asked Ben.

“Pretty hungry,” he answered.

They picked up the platters and bowls and proceeded to the dining room.

The wind had increased, bringing with it rain that tapped on the steamed-over windows in staccato bursts. The sound of geese overhead was a reminder of winter ahead. Inside it was warm and comfortable, and all seemed right with Ellie’s world.

With an overwhelming sense of satisfaction, she looked from her husband to her brothers and children. Madeline lay sleeping in her wooden cradle in the corner of the room. Ellie dabbed at her eyes.

“Something make you sad?” Caleb asked, leaning close to take her hand and touch a fingertip to her cheek.

She shook her head and smiled through the sheen of tears. “Something makes me very, very happy,” she said. “You’ve made me happy, Caleb.”

He kissed her forehead and squeezed her hand. “I love you.”

Their family swelled around them, laughing, passing food, and Caleb turned to take the warm roll Anna was pushing at him.

Ellie glanced from her husband to her brothers. Flynn was as happy and carefree as a lad his age should be, thanks to Caleb. And thanks to Ben.

She turned her attention to Ben, and her pleasure dimmed ever so slightly. The picture of him as a skinny, terrified eight-year-old flitted across her memory, replaced by images of formative years and teen years, and his contorted and perspiring, gaunt face the night he’d offered his life in exchange for hers.

She probably understood her brother better than he knew himself. He thought he had all his ducks in a row. He held himself in strict judgment to prove he was a person who mattered. Being hard on himself somehow made up for their past and the sins of others.

Ben took slices of ham for himself and Lillith and sliced Lillith’s into bite-size pieces. Each of these children had cut through his defenses right to his heart. How much more would it take for a woman to do the same?

Ellie’s gaze moved to Lorabeth. Ben had never shown interest in a particular woman before, and Ellie understood his hesitation. He’d seen too much during his formative years, things that had skewed his perspective of men and women. He wouldn’t want to do the same things he hated in others.

Inside Ben was a tender heart seeking acceptance, a wounded soul needing fulfillment. Caleb’s love had mended Ellie’s emotional wounds. Love would do the same for her brother.

B
en felt so much better about the situation with Lorabeth that he slept all night without the recurring dreams that normally haunted him, dreams in which he was helpless to protect the people he loved. This morning he awoke refreshed. As a rule he liked Mondays because they represented a fresh start on a week.

He was making rounds of his caged patients when a familiar buggy pulled close to the barn. He recognized Suzanne Evans. She had a man with her this time.

The tall, sandy-haired fellow assisted her to the ground and they walked toward Ben. The man wore an expression of puzzlement and concern. Something about him, about the impressive width of his shoulders and sheen of his fair hair in the sun struck Ben as oddly familiar, though he knew he’d never laid eyes on the man before. Unexplainable apprehension nagged at his gut.

“Mrs. Evans,” Ben said, striding forward. “Is Minnie in trouble again?”

“No, Doctor. I’ve brought my husband.”

“I’m not a people doctor, ma’am. That’s my brother-in-law’s job.”

“I know,” she answered. “Wes isn’t ill.”

Ben’s attention traveled from Suzanne to the man standing beside her. That strange and uncomfortable sensation crept up his spine and raised the hair on his neck. “Who are you?”

“Maybe we should sit down,” the man suggested.

Stiffly, Ben pointed to the front of the house, and Suzanne headed for the porch. He followed a few steps behind Wes. “Chairs are dusty,” Ben said. “Don’t sit here much.”

“It’s all right.” Suzanne took a seat.

Ben waited for Wes to follow suit, then perched warily on a painted bench.

The man took a breath as though fortifying himself. “Was your mother Sylvia Foster?”

The air left Ben’s lungs. He stiffened his spine and narrowed his gaze. How would this man know that? “Who are you?”

“Well…” His disturbing eyes moved from his wife to Ben. “I think I’m your father.”

The words hung in the air. The drone of a bee was the only sound save the pounding in Ben’s ears. “I don’t have a father.”

“Everyone has a father,” Wes answered.

Ben had thought the same thing a hundred times, but a biological fact didn’t make a family. Ben stood and moved to the bottom of the stairs as though preparing to get away. “What are you trying to pull?”

Suzanne spoke up then. “I’m the one who asked Wes to come here and see you for himself. You two are the spitting image of each other.” She gestured by jutting an upraised palm toward her husband. “
Look
at him!”

Ben’s instincts were on alert. He didn’t want to look, he didn’t want to recognize any such thing. He knew the circumstances of his conception, and he didn’t need to imagine them. But the oddly familiar sense he’d gotten at first sight of Wes nagged at his peace of mind.

Wes hadn’t moved from his perch on the wooden chair, though his body was rigid. The man had hair the same color and texture as his own; his eyes were the same shocking blue that startled Ben each time he looked into a mirror. The man’s hands were large, his fingers long, nails flat and blunt. Looking at Wes’s hand was like looking at his own, except for the added years.

Ben had always known that his father could have been any of a hundred men. It should be no surprise to discover a man who looked exactly like he would in twenty years.

“My mother was a whore,” he said flatly. “If what you say was true, it wouldn’t say much for you.”

He glanced at Suzanne, realizing she was learning that her husband had paid a cheap whore for sex.

“Wes and I have been married eighteen years,” she told him as though guessing his thoughts. “And the situation wasn’t what you’re thinking.”

The anger and resentment that were never far below the surface welled up in a ball of rage in Ben’s belly.

“Your mother was Sylvia Foster, wasn’t she?” Wes asked. “You have an older sister named Ellianna.”

Ben’s gaze shot to Wes, and he placed one foot on the bottom stair in a move toward the man. “What the hell do you know about her?”

“I told you I knew your mother.”

“And my sister? You knew my sister?”

“Saw her when she was a tiny little thing is all.”

“Get off my land.”

“Dr. Chaney, please listen,” Suzanne begged.

“You don’t have anything to say that I want to hear,” he told Wes. “My mother was a whore. If you knew her, that’s your sad story. I don’t need it, thanks. I don’t know what you want from me or why you came here, but I don’t want anything to do with you.”

With a pained expression, Wes glanced at his wife. She shrugged and stood to reach for his hand. He took it and they moved past Ben into the yard. The man paused and turned his head to the side as though he wanted to say more. Apparently he thought better of it and continued on to the buggy.

Ben strode to his barn and waited for the sound of horses and harnesses to assure him they’d gone.

He looked at his hands and found them shaking. He curled his fingers into fists and pressed them against his eyes.

Years of safely guarded emotions clawed at his soul like demons gaining a foothold to scramble out of a pit. He knew where he came from. He’d dealt with it. He couldn’t change it. He didn’t need anyone except his family. Ellie. Caleb—the Chaneys who’d become his family by choice—
because they wanted him.

He sure as hell didn’t need the hellish reminders that man wanted to dredge up, and Ben refused to acknowledge Wesley Evans as his father and buckle to the depravity of being sired by a whore.

What would it prove?

Ben replaced hay in stalls and pens, then untethered Delilah the goat and let her follow him as he worked. The animals were his solace; helping them had healed him. He spoke to them—nonsensical things, important things—as though purging himself of all the confusion and anger could heal him. Delilah was a good listener, and followed him from barn to house.

He donned a jacket and pulled up the collar against a late-afternoon chill. Minutes later a galloping rider approached from the road.

Ben recognized Riggs Webb, son of the Arcade Hotel manager.

“Ice wagon ran over Mrs. McKinley’s dog, Doc!” Riggs managed out of breath. “She’s hurt bad.”

“I’ll grab my bag,” Ben called. “Can I take your horse and you follow with my wagon?”

He was only a few minutes away from town, and the dog still lay in the street when he arrived. A small crowd milling around the injured animal parted when he arrived.

The dog wasn’t bleeding from his head or mouth, but his back legs looked crushed, and the high-pitched whine was pathetic. Ben filled a hypodermic needle and immediately gave the canine a sedative.

Mrs. McKinley sobbed into a lace hanky. “Beau was right beside me in my garden. I was covering my bulbs with straw. Then he heard the dismissal bell and ran toward the schoolhouse. He likes to follow the children home, you know. Can you help him, Dr. Ben?”

Mrs. McKinley lived right beside Ben’s house in town, and Beau greeted him with a friendly yip and a visit each time he saw Ben come and go.

“I’ll do my best, ma’am.”

The ice truck was stopped several feet away. “Somebody fill a gunnysack with ice and bring it to me.”

Robbie Rentchler hurried to do Ben’s bidding, and Ben placed the ice on the dog’s hindquarters. “Help me get him on this blanket so I can take ’im to my place.”

Robbie helped him, and they placed the now-unconscious dog in the back of the wagon.

Mrs. McKinley cried like a little girl who was losing her best friend. Eva Kirkpatrick had come out of her dress shop, and she draped an arm around the woman’s shoulders to comfort her. “Why don’t you come in and I’ll make us some tea? Benjamin will let you know how Beau is doing.”

Ben thanked her with a nod and took the dog home.

The most serious injury was a broken hip. He worked on the animal through the evening, setting the bone and keeping him sedated while he made the cast and let it set.

He believed the animal would make a recovery, but he wasn’t sure how well he’d be able to get around afterward.

Eva drove Mrs. McKinley out to see the patient that evening. Ben greeted them and offered them cups of coffee.

“How come no woman has caught your fancy yet, Benjamin?” Eva asked in her friendly manner as they sat at his kitchen table. She glanced around the spacious, obviously little-used room. It looked pretty much like it had the day he’d moved in.

He shrugged good-naturedly. When he’d first come to Newton, Caleb’s first office had been above Miss Kirkpatrick’s dress shop. Ben had been Caleb’s helper until leaving for college, so he’d had plenty of opportunities to get to know the kindhearted woman. “Don’t know, Miss Eva. None compare to you, I reckon.”

She laughed. “None compare to that sister of yours is more likely.”

“That woman is a dear,” Mrs. McKinley agreed. “Taking on all she has, what with you boys and Dr. Chaney’s son, and now her own children. Watched you boys grow from skinny young things to strappin’ men under her care, I did.”

“I don’t know if you can entirely credit Ellie with their remarkable size and strength,” Eva chided. “Heredity may have had something to do with it.”

Her friendly remark jolted Ben’s thoughts back to the man who’d been there that morning. He and Flynn had survived
in spite of
family origin, thanks to Ellie.

Mrs. McKinley waved away Eva’s comment and added another spoonful of sugar to her coffee. “I’ll be so lonely without Beau tonight,” she said, and a tear rolled down the thin pale skin of her cheek. “He sleeps across the foot of my bed and keeps my feet warm even in the dead of winter.”

“Why don’t you come stay the night with me?” Eva suggested, patting the elderly woman’s arm. “We’ll play a game of cribbage in front of the fire.”

“That’s kind of you, dear. Thank you.”

Ben took them to see Beau again before they left. The mutt was awake and raised his head and thumped his tail at his mistress’s attention. Ben took it as a good sign that the animal was alert, though he planned to keep him sedated and resting for several days until he let him go home.

Beau was the focus for his thoughts and attention the next two days and nights, and Ben was glad for the distraction. When he felt the animal was recovered enough so that Mrs. McKinley could care for him, he drove the wagon to town and got him settled.

Ben ate supper at the Arcade and once it was dark, rode to the Chaneys’. He let himself in the front door and stood in the foyer listening to the heartwarming sounds of life and family. This was what was missing in his house. Children’s voices carried from upstairs. It was bedtime.

He found Flynn in Caleb’s study.

“Hi, Ben! I heard about Mrs. McKinley’s Beau.” They’d been neighbors with Mrs. McKinley for years, and it was a family joke to call the dog Mrs. McKinley’s Beau. “How’s he doin’?”

“I think he’s gonna be all right. Where is everyone?”

“Caleb got called out. Ellie and Lorabeth are upstairs. I’m finishin’ my studies.”

“Would you mind askin’ Ellie to come talk to me in the kitchen when she’s finished?”

“Don’t you want to go tell her yourself?”

“I don’t want to get the kids all excited. I’ll just wait.”

“Okay.” Flynn left and returned a few minutes later. “She said she’ll be down shortly.”

Ben watched Flynn tally a row of figures and eventually wandered into the kitchen, where he pulled out a chair and waited. He considered pouring a cup of coffee, but apprehension made his stomach refuse that idea. He needed to find out whatever Ellie knew, but he was afraid of what the facts might be. She would be straight with him; she always had been.

A few minutes later Ellie showed up. She leaned over him to smooth his hair and press her face to his temple in a motherly gesture.

Ben caught her hand. Emotions welled up and he fought for control.

With her hand still in his, his sister sat on the bench beside him. Her look flickered over his face and hair. “Something wrong?”

He dropped his gaze to the tabletop and composed his thoughts and his words. “Had a visitor a couple days ago.”

“Who was it?” she asked.

“Man name o’ Wes Evans.” He brought his attention to her face to observe her reaction. “Ever heard of ’im?”

Ellie’s lifted brows and slow blink showed a measure of surprise. “Wes? What did he look like? What did he want?”

“Matter of fact, he looked a lot like me.”

A floorboard creaked overhead and the clock in the hallway chimed, but neither of them flicked an eyelash as they stared at each other.

“Do you remember him, Ellie?”

“Vaguely. She—” they never called her mother “—had a friend named Wes for a time. I was too little to remember much. He was kind, I think. I don’t recall things being so bad around that time. They got worse later. Ben, what did he want?”

“A week or so ago his wife brought her cat for treatment, and she stared at me the whole time. I know why now. Apparently she went home and told her husband she’d seen me. I have no idea what that conversation must’ve been like…but she brought him to see me.”

Ellie stared at him wide-eyed.

“He thinks he’s my father.”

She blinked a few times. Opened and closed her mouth. Gripped his fingers and then let go to press both hands to her breast as though her heart was a speeding train threatening to jump the rails.

“Why would he admit to that?” he asked. “Why would he tell his wife he fathered a kid with a whore?”

She shook her head, apparently trying to reason or remember. “What did you say to him?”

“I told him to leave me the hell alone.”

“Oh, Ben.” She stared at him wide-eyed. “We haven’t talked about this for a long time. I think about it every day. I don’t need to take it out and beat myself with it, too.”

“You’re the one who said I shouldn’t punish myself with the past.”

She conceded with a begrudging nod. “But you’re the one who told Caleb the truth about Winston and what he did to me—what
she
let him do to me—because you wanted to stay with Caleb so badly, remember? You told him that night after Winston came after me again.”