The Good Twin(20)

“Me, too,” murmured Ben.

Lisa was silent for a minute, then sat up in the bed and looked over at him. “I mean it. I’d like this to be normal, not some secret rendezvous that needs to be hushed up.”

Now, Ben sat up, too. “You know it’s you that I love.”

She looked at him with eyes that seemed filled with sadness. “I’m not sure that’s enough.”

“What are you saying?”

“You’re married. You have a life. At some point, Charly will want a child. I want those things, too. And as long as I’m with you, in this lovers’ limbo, I won’t have that.”

“I’m going to leave her. We’ll be together. It’s just . . . I can’t do this now. Not with her father dying.”

“And after he dies? Won’t she be in mourning then, and need your comfort?”

“He has three months left—five at the most. Then, give me six months. After that, I promise I’ll divorce Charly.”

“Right. You’ll walk away from her money. You’ve made it clear that’s not in the cards.”

Ben pulled her into his arms. “Six months after Rick dies. I promise. That’s all I’m asking you to wait.”



Ben arrived home a little after 9:00 p.m. He knew Charly wouldn’t return until 10:00 p.m., but he didn’t like to cut it close. With his plan already in motion, it was vitally important that nothing disrupt it. He couldn’t have Charly getting suspicious by his absence. At moments like this, he thought he should step back from Lisa for the next few months, really play it safe, but that was just his nerves talking. He had everything under control, so why deprive himself of some pleasure?

At 10:05 p.m., Charly walked in. Her eyes were puffy, and she walked as though she were carrying a heavy backpack. As soon as she saw Ben, she stepped into his arms and began sobbing. He stroked her hair and let her cry herself out. When the sobs subsided, he asked, “Is there something new?”

She nodded. “He was turned down for the experimental treatment.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“I wouldn’t cry in front of him. I needed to show him I’m strong. But as soon as I left, I broke down.”

As Ben held his wife tight in his arms, his only thought was, I wonder if Mallory can lose enough weight in time.



Graham was already warming up when Ben arrived the next morning for their weekly racquetball game, and they dove into the competition right away. This time, Graham swept all three games, although Ben only lost the last by one point. After they’d showered and changed, they stopped by the café for a quick lunch.

“Weren’t you close with Jeff Mullin in high school?” Ben asked when they were seated.

“Yeah. We grew up on the same block. Our sisters are still friends. Sad case.”

“That’s what I heard. Came back from Afghanistan all messed up, right?”

Graham nodded. “Hooked on heroin. He was arrested a few times—petty stuff, mostly, then robbed a few homes, you know, to support his habit. When he got out of jail, his folks finally forced him into a rehab center. He got out six months ago and is working at a warehouse. His parents wanted him to move home, but he took a room in some flophouse in Brooklyn. Supposedly, he’s still into drugs and still looking for easy money to get them. He’ll end up back in jail before long.”

Ben held back a smile. He was pretty sure he’d found the guy he needed.





CHAPTER 15

At Ben’s suggestion, I went to the local gym, a small building with treadmills and bikes and elliptical machines, along with several weight machines and free weights. I signed up for personal training sessions twice a week and was assigned to Jackie. I wasn’t a gym rat. I never had the money to belong to one, or the inclination. Neither was I athletic. My life had been filled with school and work, with no time for anything else.

That done, I found my way to the Mohonk Preserve visitor center, off Route 55, where I filled out a hiker’s membership form and received an ID card, then purchased trail maps. I’d never hiked before and was a bit leery of it. I spoke to the helpful volunteer at the visitor center, and she suggested I start with a walk on the Duck Pond trail. “It’s mostly level, and pretty short,” she’d said, before showing me directions to get there on the map.

I drove to the trailhead, where there was a small parking area, and went through the gate opposite. The dirt path was easy to follow. After about twenty minutes, it veered off to the right and went steeply uphill. I struggled upward for just a short distance before it leveled out again. I enjoyed being alone in the woods. As I walked, I felt the crunch of fallen leaves underfoot. Before long, I reached Duck Pond. I walked to the edge and spotted a large tortoise swimming near the surface. I wished I’d brought my sketch pad with me—the clear pond, surrounded by hills, autumn-colored leaves on the trees painting a stark picture against the deep-blue sky, would have been lovely to draw. I resolved to come back another day.

I found a rock to sit on and slipped off my backpack, then pulled out a thermos with hot chocolate and a bag of trail mix—assorted nuts, chocolates, and dried cranberries. I supposed I should have brought something more conducive to losing weight—maybe coffee and baby carrots—but I hadn’t, and I hungrily tore into what I had.