Five Ways to Fall (Ten Tiny Breaths, #4)(93)

“I had no idea he had started drinking in there. Josh was a quiet, broody man to begin with and I was na?ve. I didn’t know the signs. I didn’t grow up around that sort of thing. The only alcohol in our house was champagne on Christmas morning.” She heaves a sigh. “I blamed myself for a long time. I figured I wasn’t enough for him, that I wasn’t attractive enough anymore, my body stretched out with having all these babies. Josh was still in good shape, aging gracefully. I was too preoccupied with the children and work to put on makeup and lace. When he started going out at night and coming home with lipstick on his collar, I was devastated. But I looked the other way. I cried. I convinced myself that every woman must deal with this sort of thing. And I prayed. I thanked God for giving me my life and my children and asked for his help to make me a better wife so my husband didn’t need to drink or go to other women anymore. I was stupid,” she admits more softly. “When I finally accepted that my husband had serious alcohol problems and I confronted him about it, it only got worse. He lashed out, telling me to leave him be, that he could stop if he wanted to but that it helped him suffer through the monotony of this life. And then he started drinking more.

“And then the accident in the wood shop happened. I assume Ben told you about that?”

I nod again, quietly picking as she goes on.

“I lost Joshua after that. The man I fell in love with was gone for good, leaving me with a memory I didn’t want to let go of. Not until last night, when I saw the look on my baby’s face, when I realized all that I had lost by believing that if I just held on long enough, we could go back. That everything is worth saving.”

I hear the first sounds of the dune buggy engine in the distance, the familiar dips as it shifts into gears, each one bringing the rumble closer. It sounds like Ben’s got the needle buried.

Wilma smiles sadly. “It hasn’t sunk in yet. I’m in shock—I know it. All I can think of right now is that it’s going to be so nice to have all my children here, under one roof again. Even under the circumstances.” I help her load the filled crate onto the trailer as red and yellow come into view, a cloud of dust billowing.

Her hand, small but deceptively strong, grabs hold of mine. “I don’t care what that boy has told you. He cares a great deal about you, whether he has admitted it to himself yet or not. I’ve seen how he is around women and he’s just different with you. I can’t quite put my finger on it.” She smiles as she pats my hand and then lets go. “Don’t give up on Ben just yet.”

The dune buggy comes to a skidding halt. “Mama, you disappeared on me.” Ben grabs onto the roll bars and hoists his giant body out in a very “Dukes of Hazzard” way, cautious eyes shifting between me and Wilma. “What’re you doing out here?”

“I’m helping Reese, of course. What does it look like I’m doing, Benjamin?” she retorts snidely.

“Lorna Parker’s waiting for you at the house with more food.”

“My gosh. Thank goodness we’ll have a full house. I don’t know how else we’re going to get through all this before it spoils.”

“Maybe you should stop making more, then,” Ben remarks with a head shake. “The timer on the oven started beeping, so I took out the meatloaf. I dunno if it’s done yet, but it sure smells good.”

“Perfect. Thank you, son.” She pats his cheeks once and then climbs into her truck. She’s gone in seconds.

“She seems to be holding up well,” I note.

“She’s in shock. If you have any requests—cookies, cakes, a leg of lamb—now’s the time to ask. The woman probably won’t stop cooking for the next week.”

“I think I’ll have to try that next time I deal with a catastrophic event.” It’s a lot healthier than Jim Beam and, after what I’ve witnessed this weekend, I’m considering swearing off hard liquor for the rest of my life.

Ben rounds the trailer and starts shifting the boxes around, the muscles in his arms straining against the weight. “You’ve done a lot.”

“Remind me when my body hurts tomorrow,” I mutter, turning back to the tree. Who knew picking fruit could be so strenuous? But with all stretching and reaching, I know I’m going to feel it.

Strong hands land on my shoulders and begin kneading softly over the balls and down my biceps. I groan and lean back into his chest.

“What’s with this hat?” Ben exclaims, yanking it off my head and tossing it onto the wagon before resuming his attention to my body.

“What? Your mom doesn’t want my beautiful, flawless skin damaged,” I explain, enjoying the warmth of the sun almost as much as I’m enjoying Ben’s proximity.

“So . . . what were you two talking about?” I hear the smile in his voice but there’s also something else there. Wariness.

“The usual.”

A pause and then, “Are you going to make me drag it out of you?”

I close my eyes, wondering what that would entail. “Just that you’re madly in love with me and you just don’t know it yet.”

Ben rests his chin on top of my head as he folds me into an embrace. And snorts loudly. “Even on the day her husband kills himself, that woman’s intent on marrying me off.”

I reach up to blindly pat his cheek, the reminder of this morning sobering. “How are you doing? Are you in shock too?”