CHAPTER 34

Ben

“What do you mean, she’s dead?”

I step back to let Neil in.

“They found her first thing this morning. She’d managed to do a lot of damage with a shard from a mirror in the bathroom.”

“Jesus,” I hiss, running my hand through hair that is in dire need of a cut.

“What?” Isla’s voice sounds behind me. “Oh hey, Neil? What brings you here?” she asks, wedging beside me as she slips her arm around my waist.

It’s been two weeks since we brought Stacie home. Two weeks since I barged into a hospital bathroom to find two women on the floor, bloodied and crying. I’d been frantic as I examined Isla for the source of the blood. She directed me to Jahnee, who was sitting on the floor against the opposite wall, a cut on the inside of one wrist bleeding profusely, and a blood-stained butter knife clasped in the other hand.

She’d been weeping pitifully as she was strapped onto a waiting stretcher and couldn’t look me in the eye.

“Hey, beautiful,” Neil greets Isla, while darting me a questioning glance.

“Neil has some disturbing news, Pixie,” I tell her, dropping my arm around her shoulders and tucking her close as she lifts her face up to me. “Apparently they found Jahnee this morning.” I don’t have to explain anything; understanding is instantly visible on her face. Still, her words surprise me.

“Good,” she says, closing her eyes and nodding firmly. “I hope she finds peace.”

Isla had recounted every word that was exchanged in that bathroom. The knowledge that the baby Jahnee lost had not been mine, had already given me the sense of peace I wasn’t even aware I needed.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” she says, waving Neil in. “Come on in. You can be our guinea pig. Mak and I are teaching Stacie to bake.” She slips out from under my arm and leads toward the kitchen

“Should I be worried?” Neil asks under his breath as he passes me.

“My sister’s kitchen skills are killer.” I try hard to keep a straight face, but Neil’s worried expression is too much, and I’m laughing as I follow him inside.

Stacie flinches when she sees the unexpected guest walk into the kitchen, but kudos to Neil for not reacting to her dramatically changed appearance from last time he saw her. He simply leans down and kisses her cheek, as he does with Mak. Easy as the guy himself.

My sister has become quite comfortable around us in the last weeks, no longer trying to hide her scars. I contribute it to my niece and Isla, who treat Stacie no different than they would’ve before. I’m the one who’s having a harder time treating her as before. I’ve been more protective, more careful of her feelings, and most of the time it just seems easier to avoid interaction at all.

Until a couple of days ago, when the girls were talking about the wedding. Our wedding.

I was prepared to haul Isla off to Vegas to do the deed. No muss, no fuss. So when Isla asked Stacie to be her maid of honor, my ears perked up and my protective instincts jumped to attention.

“I would love to be your maid of honor,” I heard my sister exclaim.

“Perfect!” Isla clapped her hands. “Mak and I were looking online yesterday and we found the perfect dress for you. If you like it of course,” she quickly adds.

“She doesn’t have to wear a dress,” I jumped in. “Why doesn’t everyone just wear what they feel comfortable in? We don’t need to get all gussied up, do we?”

Three pairs of eyes turned in my direction, all burning holes through me.

“What? Since when do we stand on protocol?” I defended myself.

“Since your wife-to-be and my daughter clearly know me well enough to realize that I wouldn’t pass up on a chance to wear a pretty dress. Unless, perhaps, you think I shouldn’t?” Stacie snapped and I wanted to sink down a hole when I saw the hurt in her eyes.

Fuck me. My forty-ninth birthday just weeks away and I still hadn’t learned a goddamn thing.

In two steps I stood in front of her, pulled her out of the chair and wrapped her gingerly in my arms.

“I think you should do whatever makes you happy. You’re always beautiful, but when you’re happy, you are breathtaking.”

“Good save,” Isla stage whispered, making Makenna giggle.

Clearly I’ve been dramatically outnumbered, which is why I don’t mind at all throwing another set of balls in the vice that has been firmly clamped over mine. Namely Neil’s.

“Neil came to sample your baking,” I say with a grin in my sister’s direction, who immediately narrows her eyes, before diving down to pull a fine-looking pie from the oven.

Now, I’ve learned not to get fooled by looks alone, but in contrast to previous experiences with Stacie’s pies, this one actually smells good.

She cuts a healthy wedge, and hands it to Neil who, with his puppy dog enthusiasm, dives right in. I wait for the inevitable grab for a glass of water or something to wash the taste down, but to my surprise, he forks another piece in his mouth. And then another.

“Hot dang, this is good pie,” he says around a mouthful. “And I should know, I lived in Gus’s guest house for a while and his wife, Emma, is a master pie baker. For a while, I was their resident taste tester. Best job ever,” he mutters, as he shoves in another forkful.

The smile on my sister’s face is big as she turns to me with an eyebrow raised.

“Fine,” I say, my hands up defensively. “I’ll have a taste.” Stacie’s mouth falls open and Mak busts out laughing.

“Are you shitting me?” my perfect little sister slings at me. “You give me grief over my cooking and baking for years, but now that someone else likes what I have to offer, you suddenly want to have some? Forget it.”

With determination, she cuts the remaining pie into four pieces, loads another slice on Neil’s plate, hands a plate to Mak and one to Isla, keeping the last one for herself. She demonstratively shoves half of her slice in her mouth at once.

“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?” I tell my sister with a roll of my eyes.

“Well, I hope so,” she counters with a half grin, crumbs falling from her mouth. “I work hard enough at it.”

Isla

I don’t know why I’m nervous.

Maybe it’s because I’m wearing a dress. Not just my only secondhand sundress, but an actual girly dress with three-quarter sleeves of lace. Lace!

If not for Stacie pointing out how perfect it would look with my brand new, baby blue Converse high tops, I probably would’ve passed on it. It’s a simple dress. The simplest we could find in the store. Technically, it’s just a strapless, Empire waisted dress of the softest flowing material. A deep scoop neck showcasing my pregnancy boobs. Something I know will make Ben happy to have on display, since I actually have some cleavage now. The skirt is gathered high, right underneath my breasts, leaving the rest flowing freely around my big baby bump and my ever-widening caboose in the back. Pear-shape anyone? The three-quarter sleeves belong to a long lace vest coat that closes with a single clasp between my breasts and falls open from there, creating the prettiest frame for my unhideable, advanced pregnancy bulge.

I let Mak go to town on my hair, with baby’s breath and what looks like dill, making my head look—and smell—like a salad. She loved it, and I didn’t have the heart to say anything other than that I do, too. Stacie tried to contain her giggles as she helped me put on some makeup. She lost that battle when Uncle Al came to get me and announced something smelled good, and was making him hungry for salmon.

But standing outside in the doorway to the front deck, which Ben and my uncle finished this past week, seeing my husband-to-be waiting for me on the lookout point, the dog by his side, I find myself suddenly nervous.

What was supposed to be a small intimate wedding has morphed into a sizable gathering. Damian is here, serving as Ben’s best man, and some of Ben’s old crew are here, too. I recognize his old boss, Joe Francisi, as well as Barnes; I just don’t remember his first name. Then of course there’s Jen who came together with Ryan DeGroot. And even our lawyer, Nicholas Flynn, who’s been leaving messages for Stacie since Ben mentioned she might be settling in town.

Then there is an entire contingent of GFI operatives with whom we’ve become quite close, who all brought their wives.

Just like that, I’ve gone from a solitary, somewhat searching soul, to someone with a home, a community—a family.

“You look beautiful,” Ben says smiling, when I finally reach him after only tripping three times on those damn long skirts. He leans in to kiss my cheek. “And you smell fucking fantastic,” he mumbles in my ear, and I can’t help myself, I burst out laughing.

The actual wedding is brief, practical. The vows we exchange are simple; yet hold every truth and emotion. The first kiss as husband and wife a scorcher, burning many a retina in the crowd. And the party that follows is the most fun I’ve had in a long time.

For the first time we reap the full benefits of the great room, easily housing the thirty some people we have here. The moment is perfect, when Ben pulls me in front of the fireplace and calls the guests to quiet, once everyone is provided with a glass of champagne. I’m holding my own glass, filled with only a single sip, so I can take part in the toast I know Ben is about to make.

“In case it’s escaped your attention,” he announces in his deep rasp, which carries surprisingly throughout the room. “We’re expecting.” Loud catcalls and whistles go up and I can’t stop a blush from heating my cheeks. “My wife and I have known for a while, but decided to wait sharing the gender with friends and family until we could officially reveal the perpetuation of a family name that seemed doomed to die with me.” He pauses for dramatic effect, even though everyone is already smiling and chuckling, before he concludes. “It’s a boy.” 

The evening is a bit of a blur after that, with congratulations, hugs and kisses, lots of laughter, and the boisterous hum of life within the walls of our home.

But what will stay with me until I let go of my last breath is when, after the last guest has left, Ben grabs a quilt and leads me back outside. He sits me down on the rock, in between his legs, and wraps his arms around me, covering my belly with his big hands. His big body is curved around me as he rests his chin on my shoulder.

It’s a clear night, after a crisp but beautiful early spring day. I don’t feel the cold, not with Ben’s body and the quilt to warm me. The moonlight bounces off the water of the reservoir and stars dot the sky.

“You gave me this,” he says, his breath caressing my cheek. “A place on top of the world. A beautiful view that goes on forever. A future I can hold in my hands. And a life I want to grow old in.”