Chapter Sixteen

At six o’clock one morning, the doctor stopped in during rounds and startled Ben erect. “I’m sorry,” Ben said. “I must have nodded off.”

The surgeon smiled. “Most of us do when we’ve slept in fits and starts for over forty-eight hours.” He bent over Sissy. “Ms. Bentley, how are you feeling this morning?”

Sissy opened her eyes. “My leg hurts.” She stifled a yawn and struggled to focus. “But all I really want is to go home.”

The doctor, a stocky blond who looked to be in his mid-forties, nodded. “I think we may arrange for that to happen today. But first I’d like a set of X-rays to check your tibia. If all looks in order, I’ll put in for her release.”

Ben sat alone in the room while Sissy was taken downstairs for X-rays. When she was wheeled back in and her bed was returned to its former position, the nurse grinned at Ben. “You ready to take this young lady home? I’ve been told you plan to be her caregiver. That means you have to go through all the instructions for her care with me and sign a paper. You up for that?”

“Absolutely.”

Ben listened intently to everything the nurse told him. Then the surgeon returned. “X-rays look great.” He smiled at Ben. “It’s your job to keep them that way. No weight on the leg. She must take sponge baths until I see her again. Under no conditions should the boot be removed. No showers, no matter how creative you think you can be to keep the boot dry. One slip, and she’ll be in the OR getting bolts in her bone. No sex.” He sent Ben a pointed look, making Ben wonder if the entire hospital knew he wasn’t Sissy’s brother. “If she isn’t using the restroom, I want her elevating the leg above her heart. She can sit up occasionally with it elevated below the heart to eat, but for short periods of time at first. I’ll let her know when she’s allowed to do it longer. The therapist will fit her for crutches. They are to be used only while she has assistance for as long as she’s on pain medication. The stuff I plan to prescribe is what I fondly call ‘happy juice.’ Easy on the stomach, great for pain relief, but she may get dizzy. It’s a narcotic, so you must take the script to a pharmacy to fill it. Choose one near you, because she may need refills.” He tapped his pen on the clipboard. “That’s it from me. The nurses will tell you the rest, and my PA will be getting in touch to schedule appointments.”

Ben nodded and gave him his phone number, a favor the doctor returned. “Get my number on her phone as well,” the surgeon said. “If anything happens or if you have questions, I’ll get back to you as quickly as I can.”

Ben expected checkout to be simple. It wasn’t. Sissy’s jeans had been destroyed with scissors the night of her fall, and she’d puked all over her top. Sissy told her attendants to trash the clothing. A nurse supplied her with a pair of overlarge, bile green scrubs to wear home, one leg hacked off to ride above her boot. He had to sign papers. It seemed like hours passed before Ben had her on the passenger seat of his truck in a reclining position with her injured leg resting on a pillow on the dash.

The ride back to Mystic Creek was a nightmare for Sissy. The stiff suspension under the Dodge made it a rough ride. Sissy didn’t complain, but Ben could tell by her pallor that every bump in the road hurt her. Before he even got her out of Crystal Falls, he was rethinking his plan of action.

“Maybe I should just fill the script here so the trip home won’t be so awful for you,” he told her.

“It’d be too far to drive back for refills, which I believe I’m going to need,” she replied. “Besides, the new guy, Drake Mullin, who bought the Pill Minder, can use the business. The older people think he’s too young to know what he’s doing.”

“Fresh out of pharmacy school, he probably knows a lot more than the old fart that sold him the place.”

“Ahhh!” Sissy cried when one tire hit a pothole in the street.

Ben’s heart hurt for her, but there was no way he could make it a smooth ride. Whatever speed he drove, every jiggle brought Sissy pain.

They made it to Mystic Creek without mishap, but not without a great deal of discomfort for Sissy. Ben wanted to take her straight to the café, get her settled upstairs, and then get her prescription filled. Sissy countered him on that idea.

“I’m going to need a slug of that happy stuff before you help me out of this truck and I try to climb the stairs on crutches.”

Ben parked along the curb on East Main and raced across the street to the Pill Minder. When he pushed open the door, a bell jingled. Except for the dark-haired, broad-shouldered young man behind the counter, there wasn’t a soul in sight. Ben decided Sissy had it right; the guy needed customers.

Ben strode to the counter. “I’m Ben Sterling. I don’t think we’ve met.”

“I’m Drake Mullin, the idiot that wanted to get out of the city, live over his pharmacy, and connect with his customers. It never occurred to me that I might have no customers. It’s the only pharmacy in town. I don’t get it.”

Ben didn’t have time for a chat, but he did feel sorry for the guy. “I’ll get my mother on it.” He slapped the script onto the counter. “I need that filled fast.”

“You’ll get your mother on what?” Drake asked, his brown eyes filled with bewilderment.

“Getting the old fools in this town to stop driving to Crystal Falls to get their prescriptions filled. They think you’re a pup who’ll make mistakes with their medications.”

Drake picked up the paper but didn’t look at it. “A pup? I’m thirty-one years old! Better for me to fill their prescriptions than the last pharmacist. At least I can see.”

Ben forced a smile. “I hear you. The old people in town are being silly. But for right now, that concern goes on hold. I’ve got a lady in my truck in so much pain that she’s about to scream.”

Drake looked at the script and whistled softly. “Well, this’ll take care of it. For Sissy Bentley, huh? I heard she got hurt.”

Ben leaned over the counter. “Drake, just fill the goddamned script. I promise to drop by as soon as I can to visit. I’ll bring coffee and donuts from the Jake ’n’ Bake, and we’ll talk until you can’t wait to be rid of me. But right now, Sissy is in horrible pain and every second seems like an eternity to her.”

Drake turned away and strode into an aisle. “I hear you, and I’ll hold you to the donuts and coffee. Plus, you’re in luck. This stuff comes in a bottle. No measuring. All I’ve got to do is label it, and off you’ll go.”

Ben tapped his knuckles on the counter. He already had his credit card out to pay when Drake handed him a small white sack with the pharmacy’s logo on it. “Just go. The machine takes forever to get card approval. Come back and pay when you can.”

Ben felt a newfound respect for Drake. “Thanks. That’s kind of how Bill did business.”

Ben shoved his card back into his wallet and said over his shoulder as he headed for the door, “My mom knows everybody. She’ll get on the horn and have half the people in town convinced you walk on water, and the other half will stop by to see if they can watch. I swear, she could sell monkeys to a banana grower.”

*   *   *

The moment Ben got back to his truck, he read the dosage and opened the bottle of happy syrup to pour some into the supplied measuring cap. Sissy, now looking green around the gills, took the tiny cup in a shaky hand, tipped her head back, and swallowed the cherry pink liquid. Then her arm flopped down at her side. Ben plucked the cup from her tightly clenched fingers.

“I’m just going to sit here,” he told her. “Let’s give that stuff a few minutes to take hold.”

“Amen.” She let her head loll on the reclined seat. “I’ve never had anything hurt like this.”

“Just hold on, honey. The liquid should get into your bloodstream fairly fast.”

He glanced at his watch. It was ten after three. The next time he checked, only another minute had passed. “How are you feeling?”

“No relief yet. Call the doctor to see if he can prescribe something stronger.”

Ben, who’d given Sissy his jacket to wear, lifted a hip to fish his phone from his back pocket. He knew she wasn’t a wimp when it came to pain. He got an answering service and left a message for the surgeon.

Sissy, still pale, said, “He told us to just call him. Like it was a hotline straight to his ear. Instead we get his answering service? It could be twenty minutes before he calls back!” She sank against the seat again, too short to utilize the headrest. “I need another dose.”

Alarm bells went off in Ben’s mind. Another entire dose didn’t sound like a smart idea. “Honey, this may be powerful stuff. Let’s not overdo it.”

“I’ll take my chances!” she cried. “Give me that bottle!”

Ben tucked the sack between his hip and the driver door. “Not until I call Drake and ask if you can safely take more.”

“Drake, the pharmacist nobody trusts?”

Ben was already dialing the Pill Minder. Drake answered and said, “Pill Minder. I’m sorry. Can you hold for a minute?”

Ben shot a wondering look across the street. He could see the pharmacist at the counter, holding the phone. There wasn’t a single customer in the store. “Hell, no, I can’t hold for a minute. This is Ben Sterling. I was just in there.”

“Oh.” Drake laughed. “I just started saying that. It’s my new plan so anyone who calls will think I’m busy. Busy draws customers. It’s been proven in a study.”

“Well, I hope your new tactics work, but for the moment, there’s an immediate problem. Sissy’s still in horrible pain. She’s wanting a second dose of syrup. I just want to make sure it’s safe.”

“No!” Drake said. “You didn’t already let her take it, I hope?”

“No. I called you first.”

“Well, don’t let her. Somebody twice her weight, maybe, but there isn’t much to her, and that’s a powerful narcotic. It’ll hit her in a blink.”

Ben glanced over at Sissy. She was gazing out the windshield and smiling slightly. Her body now looked almost limp. “Uh, yeah, I can see that. I think the pain crisis is over now.”

Ben saw Drake at his front window, peering out at them. “Getting her upstairs to her flat will be challenging. You want some help?”

Ben hooked a thumb at the druggist. “Like you said, there isn’t much to her. But thanks for offering.”

*   *   *

Ben took a page out of the paramedics’ book and parked in front of Sissy’s café so that she would have a straight shot as she moved toward the stairs on crutches. After he cut the truck engine, he glanced over at her as he probed his left front pocket for the key to her place. Still there. He shifted to dig it out. Then he exited the truck to unlock and open the front door of her restaurant. Seconds later, he had drawn her new crutches from the backseat and opened the passenger door, and was studying Sissy, who was now giggling.

Barely able to contain a grin, he asked, “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, I was just thinking about John Wayne. Remember that movie? He and Maureen O’Hara were still married but estranged, only somehow they got stuck with each other again. And he got drunk. She was trying to help him up the stairs, he started to go over backward, she couldn’t hold his weight, and down they went.”

“I won’t let you fall back down the stairs.”

Sissy giggled again. “Oh, yeah? I think this thing on my leg weighs almost as much as I do. I’ve never used crutches. The law of averages says that as I try to swing my body up, I’m going to lose my balance and fall over backward.”

Ben was pleased to note that she was still reasonably alert.

He steadied the crutches on the pavement with one hand and reached out to her with his other one. “If you’re wobbly on these things, I’ll carry you.”

“I don’t think that’ll work.” She flashed him a grin, mischief twinkling in her eyes. “For the first time in my life, I may not fit into a space large enough for most adults.” She gestured at her elevated leg, which was only slightly bent at the knee inside the brace. “I suppose you might manage if you go up sideways.”

Ben realized she was right. “Okay, sideways it may be.” He’d definitely decided to carry her and come back for the crutches later. He could tell just by looking that she was drunker than a lord. After balancing the crutches against the truck, he leaned in to unfasten her seat belt. Then he slid his arms around her, one behind her back and the other beneath her legs. “One, two, three, up!”

She was so relaxed that her butt sagged, and he nearly dropped her. The only rigid place on her was the brace. He left the door open, stepped up onto the curb, crossed the sidewalk, and turned sideways to get her inside the café. He’d have to carry her upstairs the same way.

“Too bad we’re not on video,” she chirped. “The Duke was good, but we may outperform him.”

Not if Ben had anything to say about it. Holding her close against his chest, he carried her through the café and found solid footing on the first step with his right boot. Then he lifted his other foot. And so it went, all the way up to her flat. Once at the top, he decided Sissy would have an additional cost when she remodeled. These narrow steps were going. It was a miracle she hadn’t killed herself when she fell.

Once inside the flat, he deposited her on the sofa, gathered pillows from her bed to place at one end, and then carefully lifted her hurt leg onto the billowy softness. Patches bounded across the living room carpet, proving that missing two front feet would never slow him down. He leaped onto Sissy’s chest, pushed his whiskered nose against hers, and said hello with a mournful meow.

“Oh, Patches. How are you, sweetness? Did you miss me?”

Ben decided to leave Sissy wearing his jacket while he trekked back down to get her happy juice and crutches, along with the white plastic bag of stuff that the nurse had sent home with her.

When he got back upstairs, Sissy, wide-awake but smiling, held Patches on her chest. Ben’s oversize jacket had slipped off her right shoulder to reveal the borrowed scrub smock. Ben looked down at her and decided she was the only woman on earth who could look beautiful in bile green.

“Hi,” she said. “Where’d you go? You missed our family reunion.”

Ben dropped the bag on the floor. Patches, he noticed, had already tucked himself into a ball and fallen asleep. “He missed you.”

“He missed you, too. Where’s Finnegan?”

Ben didn’t think a rambunctious dog would mix well with a woman on crutches. “Finn is at Barney’s house. They have a golden retriever his age. It’s pup heaven over there.”

“That’s too bad. I’ll miss him tomorrow during breakfast prep.”

Surely Sissy didn’t think she could work tomorrow. He decided to leave that topic shelved. “He’ll be back soon.”

She stroked the kitten. “Don’t avoid the subject. I have to reopen the café in the morning. I can’t let everything I worked for get flushed down the toilet just because I broke my leg.”

Ben sat on the coffee table. “Well, there’s a pickle, because cooking takes two hands. Maybe with practice, you could learn to get around with only one crutch, but you’d still be a hand short.”

She went from happy to sad. “I can’t keep my café closed until I can walk again. I overheard a nurse say it might be as long as six weeks before the doctor gives me a walking cast.”

Ben drew in a steadying breath. “The café will reopen in only days. I’ve made arrangements at my ranch. I won’t be needed there.” He paused to let her absorb that. “Remember when I told you teaching me how to do kitchen cleanup and meal prep was sort of like insurance? If something happened, I could take over for you?”

She fixed an appalled gaze on him. “You can’t run the Cauldron.”

“Why not? I know how to operate the cooking appliances. I sure as hell have the prep work down pat. I can do it, Sissy. Maybe not as well as you can, but your customers don’t come here only for the food. They come because they love you. You’re their friend. You make them feel important. Take Chris Doyle. Plenty of people say hello to him and ask about his day, but you know what he wants for each meal and you plan your daily menus around his eating preferences. You go out of your way for him.”

Tears slipped down her pale cheeks. “He’s the grandpa I never had.”

Ben’s brain snagged on that. Didn’t everyone have at least one grandpa? “He’s pretty special,” he said. “He loves you, that’s for sure. And that’s my point. Christopher is worried about you. He’ll come here to eat, and while I’m trying to juggle your load, I’ll remember his menu choices. I may not make each meal as well as you do, but I’ll give it my best shot.”

“You have your own business to run. And you love it. I don’t want to be responsible for you going under while you try to keep me afloat.”

She had a point. But he had something going for him that she didn’t, a supportive family.

“Let me do this. At least give me a fair chance. I know it’ll be hard to run the café with the same efficiency you do. But while you’re laid up, you can advise me. I’ll have your brains and my brawn to keep things going here.”

“Maybe it’d work. But it’s not easy.” She smiled faintly. “At least I’ll still be able to do the books for both operations.”

Ben felt a wave of pure pleasure move through him. In the past Sissy would have objected to him helping her out. But, with him, at least, she’d moved beyond her fear that any man who helped her would expect paybacks. It also told him that their relationship had reached a new level.

“Never said it will be easy. But you’ll be just upstairs. I can call you on my cell. I can send you pics of the food. You can direct me.” Ben leaned close to her, got a whiff of her hair, and still smelled lavender. “I can pull it off. Won’t you at least let me try?”

She smiled and said, “Why not? Even if you hit a few rough spots, at least the café will still be open, and you have a way with people. As soon as I get used to crutches, I can come downstairs and supervise.” She shrugged and grinned more broadly. “We’re a great team.”

“Yeah, we sure are.” Ben finger combed her hair, thinking of how smoothly she’d slipped into his life, accepting him for who he was and what he was. Hell, she even loved his dog. Even in the hospital, she’d worried aloud about Finn, and today she’d been disappointed that the pup wasn’t present for their reunion. “Have I told you today how much I love you?”

She beamed another smile at him. “No, and I’ve missed hearing it.”

“Well, I love you.” He bent to kiss her forehead. “The best thing about that is, I thought I’d never find you.”

She laughed. “You found me, but I chased you away. I’m glad you didn’t run this time.”

Ben studied the expressions that flitted over her face, every line of which he felt certain had been engraved upon his heart. What was she thinking about? He saw tenderness warm her eyes. Then a deepening of her smile. He had never wanted to be a mind reader—until just now.

“Ice,” he said, jerking Sissy’s attention back to him. “Thank God you’ve got a good ice maker downstairs. I remembered to elevate your leg, but I forgot to ice it.”

“I hate icing it. I get so cold!”

“It’s probably because you don’t have much meat on your bones. I’ll double-layer you up top.” He reached down to draw his jacket over her shoulder. “That sheepskin lining will help, and I’ll turn up the thermostat.” He strode toward the door. “I’ll be only a minute. If you need to use the restroom or anything, tell me now. I don’t want you trying to maneuver by yourself.”

“I’m good,” Sissy told him. “And I promise not to move.”

As he ran downstairs, she listened to the sharp reports of his riding boots on the steps. Moments later, he returned, carrying a large, black garbage bag partly filled with ice. He gently packed the cubes around her leg, making sure the sack was knotted tightly enough not to leak and get her boot wet as the frozen chunks melted.

Then he stood back and studied her. “How’s your pain level?”

“It’s definitely there. A five or six, I think.”

He inclined his head and glanced at his watch. “Well, the directions say that you can have another quarter of a dosage if you don’t have total relief in thirty minutes. It’s been that long.”

Sissy nodded. As he went to collect the bottle of medication, she admired his backside. He returned with the carefully measured liquid and put the cup to her lips. “Down the hatch. There’s no point in being uncomfortable unless it’s necessary.”

Sissy swallowed the syrup. “It tastes awful.”

*   *   *

Within thirty minutes, Sissy was chattering and giggling as if she were drunk. She’d study Ben for a moment and then burst out laughing. After ten minutes of the odd behavior, Ben began to get worried and called the Pill Minder. No pain medication he’d ever taken had made him feel happy and energized.

Drake answered with, “Hi, Ben.” Then he chuckled. “Sorry. I now recognize your number. No one else calls here. Well, rarely, anyway.”

“Hell, man. That’s bad.” Ben heard Sissy giggle and glanced over his shoulder. She was now engaged in a conversation with Patches, which he normally wouldn’t have found strange, but Sissy was saying both her lines and the kitten’s, making her voice squeaky when it was supposed to be the cat talking. “I’m a little worried. Sissy’s laughing and talking a blue streak, and right now, she’s—” Ben broke off. The pharmacist didn’t need to hear details of Sissy’s behavior that might embarrass her later. “I’m a little worried.”

“Is she still in pain?” Drake asked.

Ben asked Sissy and she giggled at the question. “She doesn’t appear to be.”

Drake chuckled. “I can hear her. She’s as happy as a flea in a dog kennel. That particular narcotic can cause euphoria. As long as the medication is controlling her pain, which is undoubtedly considerable, it’s okay for her to feel happy.”

“Are there any warning signs of overdose that I should be looking for?” Ben explained that he’d given Sissy an extra one-quarter dose, just as it said on the bottle.

“Well, if she falls asleep in the middle of a sentence, call me. Or if she floats in and out and her speech becomes slurred, I might worry a bit. But it sounds to me as if she’s pretty alert. Maybe get some food in her stomach.”

“Good advice.”

Ben got off the phone and fixed Sissy a small meal—beef vegetable soup with a slice of toast. He discarded the half-melted bag of ice, helped her to sit up on the sofa, pillowed her braced leg on the coffee table before serving her. “I let it cool a bit, but still be careful not to spill it.”

She filled her mouth with some meat and vegetables. Then she began waving the spoon as she chattered between bites. A blob of beef flipped off the flatware and landed on the front of her scrub top. She dimpled a cheek at Ben and giggled.

Oh, boy. Ben couldn’t help but smile. His little neat freak had vanished. After getting her tummy full, she allowed Ben to position her on the sofa in a prone position again, and then promptly fell asleep. Ben gazed down at her, thinking she looked as innocent and sweet as a young girl. He didn’t feel that she’d blinked out with abnormal swiftness. Her last words had sounded fairly rational.

Taking advantage of the downtime while Sissy napped, Ben stepped out onto the stairs to call all the members of his family with whom he hadn’t yet spoken, the only exception being Jonas, away at university. Everyone was happy to help Ben out.

When he finished making phone calls, he felt as if someone had just given him a bear hug. He was so blessed in his family. Nobody had questioned him about his relationship with Sissy, even though everyone had to be curious.

After making sure Sissy was still fast asleep, Ben went down to check her kitchen supplies. He had never made out an order for a café, so he called Joe across the street.

“Unlike Sissy, I cook the same stuff day after day,” Joe told Ben. “It’s not dinner hour yet. I’ll come over and have a quick look at her weekly menu.”

Seconds later, Joe appeared at the door. He was around six feet tall, with deep brown hair and eyes that matched. Ben walked over to let him in. “I really appreciate this, Joe.”

“Well, don’t be too overcome with gratitude until I actually help you out. My operation is nothing like Sissy’s.”

Joe perused Sissy’s menus, helped Ben find the names of her suppliers on invoices in her file cabinet, and made out a list of things Ben would need to order for the first week.

“I really grateful your help,” Ben said as he escorted Joe out. “She’s your competitor. A lot of people would rub their hands together and hope she went under.”

“We’re not competitors,” Joe corrected. “Sometimes people want a taco, sometimes they don’t. Sissy doesn’t steal any of my business. Same goes for José next door at the Straw Hat. We all offer different stuff.”

Joe saw a woman and small child enter his building. He shook Ben’s hand. “Gotta go make tacos and fill soda cups. I don’t open for breakfast at my place, so I’ll come back in the morning to help you make out your first order. You won’t have to call it in until you’re ready to roll.”

“You’re a good man,” Ben told him.

“Not a big deal. Tell Sissy everybody in town is keeping her in their thoughts.”

*   *   *

After locking up, Ben returned to the flat to find Sissy awake again, her face drawn and pale. He glanced at his watch and realized he’d spent more time downstairs than he’d intended. Her second full dose of pain medication needed to be administered.

“Damn, honey. You should have called me.”

“I don’t have my phone.” Her voice rang taut. “Haven’t seen it since before I fell down the stairs.”

Ben made a mental note to find the phone and get it charged. But first, he needed to get her pain under control. He gave her a dose of medication. Within fifteen minutes, she was euphoric again. Ben found her phone in the kitchen, spotted her charger plugged in by a toaster, and got the phone hooked up.

“Your cell will be charged in about an hour,” he told her as he sat on the coffee table. He couldn’t help but grin. Her eyes, glazed over only a few minutes earlier, now looked clear and danced with merriment. The next time he felt depressed, maybe he’d ask a doctor for some of that syrup. “How you doing?”

Ben was surprised when she reached out to clasp his hand. “I need to tell you some stuff—things I’ve never told anyone about myself.”

Ben thought, Uh-oh. He’d yearned for this moment, ached for her to open up, and now he didn’t want her to say a word. He pressed a fingertip to her lips. “Sweetheart, you should wait to tell me later when you aren’t on a narcotic that’s loosening your tongue.”

“I’ve wanted to tell you this for a long time.”

And now she had a good measure of false courage. “I understand,” he assured her. “But if it’s waited this long, it can wait a couple more days.”

“No.” She shook her head, making her hair flash in spots like dark gold in the light coming from the kitchen. “It’s about me, my childhood. The story won’t change if I wait to tell you.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth. “My parents never stayed in one place.”

Ben nearly groaned. She’d regret this once she sobered up. He needed to stop her before she got started. “Sissy, this really isn’t the time.”

“I want to tell you the truth about myself.”

Ben had a bad feeling about this, but he couldn’t shove a sock in her mouth. “Okay, but tomorrow remember that I tried to postpone this conversation.”

“I was born in an old travel trailer at an apple orchard in Hood River.”

Everyone in Oregon was familiar with Hood River, renowned for its apple production. “No wonder you’re so sweet.”

She gave his fingers a soft squeeze. “My mother went into labor at the top of a ladder, picked apples until she couldn’t continue, and went inside the trailer to have me. The next morning, she made a baby sling for me out of a pillowcase and started picking apples again.”

Shock burst through Ben. “You weren’t taken to a hospital?”

“No. My father was, is, and always will be an insane alcoholic. My mom lived in poverty because he drank away almost every dime they made, and she continued to do that until I left home. She married him against her family’s wishes. I guess they must have disowned her and are all as loony as she is. Not even at the very worst times did she ever try to contact any of her relatives for help.” She expelled a long breath, as if those words had been pent up within her for years. “They moved, on average, about four times a school year, and at least once every summer. I rarely got to attend the same school for more than two months. It was difficult to make friends.” She closed her eyes and tightened her grip on Ben’s fingers. “When I did manage to make a friend, my parents moved again. It wasn’t long before I realized that trying to forge relationships with other girls wasn’t worth the bother.

“Keeping up academically was nearly impossible. Sometimes a new school would be behind me in some subjects, but the next school might be way ahead. If I got lucky and found a teacher willing to spend time with me, my parents moved again before I got enough help to make a difference. When I graduated, I had barely passed most of my classes. I excelled only in English, because I always escaped from reality by reading books from the school library. Even though I could decipher words and guess their meanings, I was a rotten speller.” Her mouth twisted with bitterness. “My folks often moved in the middle of the night. They owed rent. They hadn’t paid for their utilities. They sneaked away under cover of darkness and never warned me ahead of time. I’ll bet I took thousands of dollars in books from school libraries over the years.”

Ben tried to think of something to say. “Well, you were just a kid. It’s not as if you deliberately stole them.”

“Spoken like a man who always got to return his library books.” Her mouth twisted again, this time into a smile laced with fond regret. “Librarians are special. They enjoy when kids haunt the library, looking for wonderful books to read.” Her dark lashes swept low over her cheeks and then fluttered upward. “They don’t judge children by their covers, so to speak. They never seemed to notice that my clothes were bargain bin specials or that my hair had been hacked by my mother. I never owned a hair dryer or a curling iron until I ran away from home.”

Ben had moved beyond wanting to silence her. He was fascinated. Sissy was peeling away all the layers and revealing to him who she really was. His heart hurt for the little girl she’d once been.

She looked deeply into his eyes. “The school librarians were always my friends. By the time I was ten, when I arrived at a new school, the first place I wanted to go was the library. I knew I’d make a new friend there, if only for a short while.”

Ben wanted to hug her up in his arms. “Hey, you,” he said, aiming for a teasing tone. “I think you may be spilling beans tonight that you’ll wish you still had in the pot tomorrow.”

She shook her head. “I need to get all this said.” Her aching blue gaze locked on his. “You need to know who I really am, Ben. Otherwise, I can’t move forward with you. Do you get that?”

His stomach knotted. “Sure. I get that. I don’t think I’ve kept any secrets from you. I’m glad you’re not going to keep any from me.”

“My teens weren’t fun. The girls picked on me, and so did the boys, only in a different way. The poorer girls called me names, laughed at me, shunned me, and sometimes beat me up if they caught me alone. I was beyond poor, and I think it made them feel good to finally be able to look down on someone instead of being the ones who were looked down upon. The rich girls, with professionally employed parents, treated me like I had a contagious disease. It wasn’t only my awful clothes and haircuts. I couldn’t get good grades, no matter how hard I tried, so they thought I was a dummy as well as a scumbag.”

Ben winced.

“The boys saw me as easy picking. I had no friends. They probably knew I was lonely. The first time I got targeted, a boy offered to carry my books. I’d gotten to the school in spring, and there were no empty lockers, so I had to lug everything around all day. My parents couldn’t afford to buy me a book bag. Translate that to mean my father wanted the money for booze. This boy shared two classes with me, so in between those two periods, he’d carry my books to our next class. I thought he was so nice. He was cute and popular. I think it was about a week and a half before he demanded paybacks.”

She paused and swallowed. Ben’s heart hurt. “Paybacks?”

“Yeah. He coaxed me into an empty classroom and wanted sex. When I refused, he threw all my books at me.” She touched a tiny white mark above her eyebrow that Ben had never noticed. “A corner of one of them cut me and made me bleed.”

“Dear God. Did you go to the office and report it?”

She burst out laughing. “You really don’t get it, do you? If I had done that, the principal would have called my folks, and then my dad would have punished me for drawing attention to myself. He isn’t just a drunk; he’s crazy. He did jail time for car theft and assault. He jumped parole. He owed people money in every town we lived in. He stayed under the radar as much as possible. Before I finished high school I’d lived in thirty-six states.” She took a deep breath. “At the next school, a boy noticed that I had nothing to eat for lunch several days running. He bought two lunches in the cafeteria, found me, and handed me a tray. I was wary. I was starting to realize that nobody did anything nice unless they expected a payback. But he’d already paid for it, and I was hungry, so I sat with him in the cafeteria to eat. That guy waited until after school. There, if you lived within a half mile, you had to walk, and I was one of the unlucky ones who couldn’t take a bus. He waited. He’d been watching. He grabbed me off the sidewalk and dragged me into some bushes. He said I was his, bought and paid for. I curled my hand over a rock and bonked him in the face. I ran like a rabbit for home and never told my parents.”

Ben felt sick. He remembered when he’d tried to hang a heat lamp for her, and he finally understood why she had so adamantly refused, why she’d rejected his offer of friendship at first, and also why she never wanted to be indebted to anyone.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured.

She flapped her hand. “I’m not finished. Now I’m going to tell you about my first boyfriend. And trust me, your story about your first romance won’t be similar to mine, period.”

“Oh.” Ben tried to think of something he could say.

“He was actually my almost boyfriend. When I got to that new school, I was—hmm—sixteen, I think. I definitely knew the drill. Kept my head down. Didn’t stay in the bathrooms any longer than necessary because that was where other girls might draw on me with lipstick or beat me up. A hobo is what they called me there.”

Ben’s muscles jerked. “A what?”

Sissy giggled. “A hobo, or sometimes a scumbag or transient. Your childhood, compared to mine, was likely a walk on easy street,” she said with no trace of resentment. “Anyway, back to my story. I arrived at this new school. I thought I’d learned to be invisible. Watched my feet when I walked. Sat outside in a hidden place to eat my sack lunch if it was warm enough, or sneaked into an empty classroom to eat if it was winter. I went to a water fountain if I wanted a drink. Kids could leave campus if they had transportation, but some of them stayed to eat in the cafeteria. I didn’t want them to see what my mother had managed to make for me—or, most times, what I’d made for myself because she’d started working nights a lot by then.

“Anyway, I’d been at the new school for about a week when a guy cornered me out in the hall during lunch hour. He was very nice and said all the right things. ‘You’re so pretty, blah, blah, blah.’ And he asked me out to the movies. I about fainted. He was a very popular football star, and I couldn’t believe he’d even noticed me. His dad was the mayor and owned a huge ranch.” Tears pooled in Sissy’s eyes. “That boy was so out of my league, but I thought he actually liked me. So I said I’d go out with him.”

Ben felt her fingers loosen their grip on his and start to tremble.

“Instead of taking me to the movie theater, he drove out onto his dad’s property where he knew nobody would happen along. By then, I was nervous. No, actually, I was scared. I tried to get out of the car, but it was a fancy one, with door locks that the driver could control. He tried to rape me.” She lowered her gaze, her attention focused on the beef stain on the green scrub top. “He picked on the wrong girl. I was a nobody, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to be a victim because of that. So I fought him with every ounce of my strength.”

“Good for you.” Ben heard his voice. It sounded like a boot being dragged over gravel. “I hope you kicked his ass.”

“Not really. Mostly I just pissed him off. He called me a piece of white trash and said I wasn’t good enough to lick his feet. When I scratched him, he punched me in the face. At that point, I knew I had to outsmart him, so I went limp, pretending he’d knocked me out, and then I waited for my chance. He dropped his pants and straddled me, giving me a perfect target for a knee jab, and I gave him a good one. Then I punched him with an upward slam to his nose. While he cried like a baby, I crawled over him to release the door locks, and then I ran.”

“Oh, sweetheart. I’m so—”

“I’m not finished. That’s only the start of my story. It was darker than smut out there. I was new to the area and had no idea where I was. I ran blind. When I realized I was going the wrong way, I got off the road, stumbled through the woods toward distant lights, and reached town. Only then I wasn’t sure where our house was. I was disoriented. Couldn’t remember the street we lived on. After hours of walking, I finally got home.”

Ben realized that he was now squeezing her hand. He tried to loosen his grip for fear of hurting her.

“I burst into the house, thinking my parents would go to the police and press charges against the boy. But, as always, my dad was drunk. He’d been waiting for me and building up steam. Before I could tell him anything, he started hitting me and calling me a slut. I was so banged up the next day, I couldn’t go to school. And when my mother told my dad that it was the mayor’s son who attacked me, they packed up and left that very morning. My dad wanted no part of pressing charges against a mayor’s kid.”

“Sweet Jesus.” Ben’s throat suddenly felt as if he’d guzzled drain cleaner.

“At the next school, there were other popular boys who asked me out. I was never dumb enough to accept again. To them, I was nothing. And that was pretty much true. I lived in shacks. My clothes were awful. My mom used some of her tips once to buy me makeup, and when my dad found out, he beat the hell out of her.” She glanced up at Ben, her expression suddenly rebellious. “But being nothing doesn’t mean I’m someone to be used.”

Ben, gazing down at her precious face, couldn’t believe she’d ever felt that way about herself, and it was even more mind-boggling to realize that she possibly still did. Before he could get a word out, she rushed on to say, “When I met you, I immediately tagged you as one of those popular boys. Well, not a boy, definitely a man, but I still used the same measuring stick.”

Ben’s heart twisted. He had been popular in school. Everyone in town had respected and admired his parents. At sixteen, he’d worked for his dad on the farm and earned enough money to buy a nice used pickup with his father’s help. On the surface, he’d been the spoiled son of a pillar of the community.

“You come from a normal family. You not only got a good education as a kid but went on to university. What that boy said was true. My parents are white trash, and an apple never falls far from the tree.”

Ben tried to protest, but Sissy cut him off. “You need to listen. The worst thing for me wasn’t how the boys at school treated me. It was the way my father did. He couldn’t keep a job because of his drinking, so when I was in my teens, my mom started working double shifts at a truck stop to keep a roof over our heads, booze in the cupboard, and at least some food on the table. About three months before I graduated, she started working the graveyard shift. One night, I woke up from a sound sleep to find my father on top of me.”

Ben released his hold on her hands, not because he didn’t want to comfort her, but because he knew he’d grip her fingers with too much force. He still didn’t know her father’s name, but he did know the man would crawl and beg for mercy if he ever found him. Sissy. He remembered when she’d given him the finger times five, and tears stung his eyes. Snotty, cold-shouldered Sissy with a smart mouth and an attitude he didn’t understand. Now, though, he was starting to comprehend why she’d been wary of him for so long.

“My own father tried to rape me,” she whispered raggedly. “He thought I was nothing, too. I hit him on the back of the head with my bedside lamp. He was already drunk. The blow knocked him out. At first I was afraid I’d killed him—but I hadn’t.”

Ben nodded. He knew that wasn’t an appropriate response, but he couldn’t speak.

“What were the chances that he’d remain unconscious until my mom got home? And, as always, we lived on a rough side of town, so I wasn’t about to leave the house to hide from him all night, only to risk getting gang-raped. So I ran out to his old beater pickup, grabbed the tire iron, and sat in the dark living room, waiting for the bastard to wake up.”

Ben didn’t ask what happened next. Sissy, who’d always guarded her secrets so fiercely, had now opened her floodgates. “When he staggered out of my bedroom, mad enough to hunt bear with a butter knife, I greeted him with the tire iron, and I was ready to use it. I told him that if he ever tried again, I’d kill him, and I meant it. He called me horrible names, but he didn’t come near me. He finally got tired of yelling and went to my parents’ room, where he passed out again on the bed.”

Ben swallowed, trying to wet his throat so he could speak. “Did he ever try again?”

She shook her head. “I slept with the tire iron until I earned my diploma, and then, without a dime in my pockets, I moved out. Well, I grabbed what clothes I could carry and stole what was left of a loaf of bread. I’ve never contacted them since. I don’t know where they are, and I don’t care.”

Ben stared down at her slender hand that he’d recently been holding. “You still wear your mother’s mood ring.”

She nodded. “My mom isn’t bad, Ben. She’s just crazy. That’s my only explanation for her staying with him all these years. I despise my father. A part of me still loves my mother, even though I know she doesn’t deserve that. She was the adult. She was obligated to protect me. Instead the only thing she ever did to make him stop pounding on me was to step into his line of fire and take the beating herself.” She lifted her hand and stared at the ring. “The mood ring is symbolic to me. It changes colors, according to how the person wearing it feels. While growing up, I lived with a man whose moods predicted whether we had fair weather or foul inside our home. When I look at this ring, I don’t think about how much I love my mom. I think about how I can avoid ever being anything like her.”

Ben wished he could come up with something more to say, but he was fresh out of words. Sissy’s former euphoria had been pushed aside by sadness and rage. He guessed that the narcotic could take a person either way. Only, in all honesty, he couldn’t blame all this on the happy syrup. She had every reason to feel sad and outraged. Who wouldn’t?

“So, after you left home, did you encounter any more jerks?”

“A trucker who pretended he had a spare set of tires that would fit my car if I’d meet him outside after my shift. Another trucker intervened, so except for a few bruises, I survived.” She shrugged. “The bad guys were everywhere, and I had a talent for finding them. A couple of bosses who offered me better shifts to earn more tips, provided that I would go into the storage room with them every night and put out. Male waiters who busted ass to help do my work when it got busy and wanted favors in return.” She smiled slightly. “I did meet a couple of good guys along the way, only it turned out the really nice one was gay, and the other one was already in love with someone else.” She held up a finger. “And I can’t forget my last boss, Gus. When he got mad, he threw pots around the kitchen, but he never laid a hand on his waitresses. And when I inherited the café, he spent hours on the phone with me, teaching me how to cook.”

“I’m sorry that so many bad things happened to you.” Ben flexed his shoulders and rubbed the back of his neck. “At least you’re out of it now, a businesswoman who’s worked hard for success.” He gestured around them. “Just look at what you’ve done here! You’ve doubled your aunt’s business. You’re remarkable. Remember when I couldn’t figure out my accounting program and I sent you my files? You figured it out after I’d been struggling with it for weeks. The apple did fall far from the tree in your case. You don’t have to put up with any of that crap ever again.”

Sissy surprised him by saying, “I know. After I got the café, I took online courses at night after working all day to improve my spelling, vocabulary, and math skills. Intellectually, I know I’m now just as good as anybody else is, when it comes to cooking, anyway.” She pressed her fist over her heart. “But way deep down, Ben, that girl and young woman are still inside of me. Their voices still whisper inside my head. Not really voices, but feelings that remind me I’m not as good as everyone else. I try to chase them away, but they often sneak back in.”

Ben took her hand again. “Maybe later, when things are back to normal, you should get some counseling.”

“Maybe, but how could it help? When you’re raised like I was, I think ‘low-class’ gets branded on your heart.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “But, like you say, the bad times are behind me now. The problem is, I can’t leave behind who I really am. My father is crazy. My mother is nuts. I’ve never met any of my relatives on either side, but I’m pretty sure I’ll find a bunch of fruitcakes if I try to find them. I’ve got bad blood.”

Ben’s skin went cold. “You rose above it. Look at yourself now. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Law of averages. What are my chances?” She sighed as if talking so long had drained her. “At least you know who I really am now. I’m not from your world, Ben. As kids, we didn’t even grow up on the same planet. Everywhere I ever lived, I was the daughter of the town drunk.”

Ben struggled against his urge to gather her into his arms. “Sissy, will you do me a favor?”

“If you’re about to ask me for sex, the answer is yes.”

Ben laughed, and he couldn’t quite believe he’d done it. Talk about bad timing. “I will ask for that sometime, but not tonight. The favor is this. I want you to brand something new on your heart in huge, bold print.”

“What would that be?”

“Short and simple. ‘Ben Sterling loves me.’”

Her eyes went shimmery and her mouth quivered. “Okay. I’ll do that.”

Ben stood and smiled down at her. “It’s way past dinnertime. We both need something to eat. And while we eat, I want you to tell me about some happy things you remember.”

“Okay. But first, I need my crutches. Ladies’ room time.”

Ben did a quick count of the hours since he’d carried her upstairs and wanted to kick himself for asking only once if she needed to use the restroom. Then he glanced at the coffee table, which sported no glass of water. All it had supported for most of the day and evening was his ass. She’d gone for hours without emptying her bladder. Hello, that meant she hadn’t consumed enough fluids.

“Well, shit,” he blurted. “I’m a rotten nurse.”