Chapter 18: Bethany
“Bee?”
When Mom came back in around dinnertime, I jumped. I had been sitting in my room, reading design journals on my laptop, my door half-shut.
“Mom!” I called, surprised. “You’re back.”
She laughed. I heard her coming up the stairs. “Yes, I am. How was your day, sweetie?”
“It was good,” I said mildly. She came in at the door and frowned.
“Hell! You must have been in here for ages. It’s all stuffy, sweetheart.”
I sighed as she opened the windows.
“I did go out for a walk, Mom,” I said softly.
“I’m sure you did,” she said. “But you shouldn’t work so hard, baby. It’s your holiday. Come and help me cook? It’ll be fun.”
I sighed. “Okay.”
She looked at me questioningly. “What’s up, baby?”
“Why?” I asked as I stood and collected the coffee cups of my desk, heading to the stairs.
“Nothing,” she said, looking hurt. “It’s just…you seem a bit—different. I dunno,” she shook her head. “Just me being silly.”
I put an arm around her shoulders. “No, Mom. It’s not you, really. I’m just distracted. It’s work,” I lied. I didn’t want to mention Luke. She would be worried about me. And she wouldn’t understand his effect—hell, even I didn’t understand!
“Well, like I said, you work too hard,” she said gently. “Now, come on. I thought we could make a roast vegetable lasagna for dinner?”
“Oh!” I smiled. “That sounds great.”
We went down to the kitchen together.
“So,” Mom said as she started to chop up onions. “I was talking to Claudia, and she said that her cousin’s son, Turner, remember him? Anyway—they’re having a wedding soon.”
“Oh?” I felt a small sadness inside me. Somehow, whenever I heard about things like that I felt a bit sad. I was in my thirties and I was starting to feel societal pressure. So many of my friends—hell, so many of my colleagues, many of whom were younger than me—were settling down. Why not me?
“Yes! I don’t envy Claudia—she’s getting involved, of course. You know her.”
“No,” I commented. “Um, do you want these peppers cut up?”
“Yes, sweetie. What’s wrong?” she asked.
“What?” I asked, realizing I must have looked really upset. I blinked, rearranging my face to grinning.
“I don’t know why, but you just seem sad to me, dear,” she said.
“I’m okay,” I said, sniffing. I wondered whether or not to tell her. “I was just…thinking about the past. About Luke.”
“Oh! That asshole,” Mom said. “I’d like to see him in court, so I would.” She stabbed the air with her chopping knife for emphasis.
“Court?” I frowned. I had finished with the peppers and moved onto the squash.
“Yes! He was abusive, sweetie. And violent. The guy’s dangerous. I’d like to see him get it for what he did to my girl…”
“Mom!” I felt suddenly angry. “Please. Just, don’t say that. Like, make me feel like a victim. I’m not just a victim, okay?” I sniffed, tears springing to my eyes. I didn’t know why, exactly, but something about what she’d said had really made me feel uncomfortable.
“Oh, honey,” she sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”
I shook my head. She looked crestfallen. I wished I hadn’t lost it with her. It wasn’t her fault I felt so unsafe. She was just mad on my behalf, being my mom.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I said. I went over and gave her a hug. Her hair smelled of onion.
“Baby,” she said gently. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Come on. Let’s get those in now?” she gestured to the oven. “Should cook through before we add the thinner stuff.”
I nodded. “Okay, Mom.”
I let her take the ready-cut vegetables and put them out and then turned back to her with a sigh.
“Is Rodney coming over?” I asked.
“Oh, I dunno,” Mom said with a raised brow. “Let’s check my phone. As it is, we’ll have enough for three. You know how much lasagna this makes.”
I nodded, laughing. “Mom, you should cook for the military or something.”
She grinned. “You’re right.”
We finished cooking the supper in companionable quiet. We made the sauce and then Mom disappeared outside while I assembled the meal.
“Okay,” she called, coming in. “That was Rodney. He said he’s going to be late. Want to take a walk?”
I looked out the window. It was still light outside. I nodded, shrugging. “It’s a beautiful evening. Why not?”
“Great!” mom nodded. “We’ll put that aside and then stick it in when we come back. Only takes about twenty minutes.”
“Perfect.”
We took lightweight jackets and headed out into the summer evening.
“Great,” Mom nodded. “It’s so beautiful out here. And so nice to see you, my baby.”
I smiled. “Thanks, Mom.”
We had a brief hug and I felt my heart settle. It was good to see her. My creative, exuberant mom. I think she inspired me and Rodney to be who we are.
We walked to the corner, sat in the sun for a while, and then walked back.
“Oh! Hi, Lane,” mom waved to a friend. “How’re you doing?”
As mom chatted to her friend, I walked a little along the sidewalk. I was considering taking a seat on a bench for a while, when I saw a familiar face. He was right there. I froze.
“Luke, please,” I hissed.
“Bethany.” He stayed where he was, about three paces away. “How long are you here?”
“Not long,” I said, flustered. If I was on my own, I’d probably turn around and run. As it was, I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. If I ran, either Mom would think I was crazy or she’d come over and sort out Luke. Neither of which were things I wanted to encounter right now.
“Bethany,” he said. His voice had that same wheedling quality I recalled from all our time together. It was a quality that made my hair on my scalp prickle. When he spoke like that in the past, I’d have done anything for him. Let him use me, belittle me, hurt me. But not now. Never again.
“What?”
He chuckled. “You know—you really should come back to me,” he said, with a smile that lit up those pale green-tinted eyes. “We’re suited, you and I. Who else gets you like I do?”
I felt myself smile. “You never understood me, Luke,” I said tightly. “I know that now.”
“Oh?” he instantly looked alert. “Who is he, hey?” he asked.
“Luke, what?” I asked. “I am not yours anymore. I can go out with anyone I choose to.”
“Oh.” He looked at me like I’d smacked him. His eyes narrowed at me. “Fine,” he said firmly.
“It is,” I nodded. “Very fine.”
“Huh,” he still stared at me. I had the feeling that I should walk away, but yet I couldn’t. I was standing there, transfixed like an animal in a hunter’s torch.
“I’m going,” I said tightly.
He smiled. “Well, I’ll see you around,” he said.
“Probably not,” I said.
“Well, I dunno,” he said with that smile again. “I’m quite close here, after all. Probably will.”
“Maybe,” I said tightly. “Not by choice.”
He laughed. “Come on, Bethany,” he said, wheedling. “You know you miss me.”
I bit my lip. I wasn’t going to say the things that sprang to my mind—the sharp retorts. It felt as if my throat had closed up, stopping my words. “Bye,” I said.
I turned and walked away, heading quickly back to my mom. She smiled at me when she saw me.
“Hey, Bethany. There you are. Look who’s here, hey?”
Lane, an old friend of mom’s who lived in the same neighborhood, smiled at me. “Bethany! Hey! How’s it going?”
“Good,” I said. I bit my lip again, feeling the strong want to run. I didn’t want to be standing here in the street, talking about everyday things, when that guy was out here. He scared me.
“So, you’re on holiday now?” Lane asked.
“Yeah,” I nodded. “It’s good to be back.”
I was standing with my hands linked and Mom must have picked up my stress because she nodded to Lane.
“Sorry, Laine—I should go. Supper needs cooking.”
“Oh.” She nodded. “Okay. Well, see you around. Bye. Bye, Bethany! Have a good holiday.”
“Thanks!” I called back as we hurried away.
“Well,” Mom said, looking at her watch. “We’re doing well for time—still got about half an hour before Rodney is set to arrive. You look so stressed, honey. I’m so worried about you.”
I shook my head. “I’m fine, Mom.”
She sighed. “I do wish you’d talk to me sometimes.”
I laughed. “I do talk to you, Mom,” I said lightly.
She pulled a face. I joshed her shoulder.
She laughed and we walked back together.
At home, we put the lasagna in the oven and settled down to wait for Rodney to arrive. I still felt subdued and I found myself distracted, haunted by Luke’s face.
Luckily for me, Mom was in a light mood and talked cheerfully about her work, telling some very funny stories about different incidents with the team and her boss. I was feeling more relaxed and cheerful when Rodney arrived.
“Hey!” he embraced me cheerfully, then kissed Mom. “What’s for dinner?”
“Mom’s lasagna,” our mother said with a grin as Rodney smiled.
“Great!”
We sat down to dinner again. I listened to Mom and Rodney chat together, sipping my drink and trying to forget that cajoling voice, those smiling eyes. Luke Rayburn, just go away. I never want to see you further.
“Bethany?”
“What?” I jumped.
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “Heck. You’re jumpy tonight.”
I put down my drink, feeling annoyed. “Yes, I am.”
Mom looked from me and Rodney and I sighed, feeling like a troublemaker.
“Sorry, Bee,” Rodney said. “I’m just being difficult.”
“No, you aren’t,” I said gently. “I am.”
“Hey, guys!” Mom yelled. “Do you smell burning?”
“Hey!”
We both breathed in and there was indeed burning. Rodney opened the oven.
“It’s okay,” he said. “Looks good.”
“Whew.”
Mom jumped up and started dishing out the supper. I breathed in the familiar, comforting scent of cheese and vegetables and home. I felt my spirits settle.
I was being silly, I told myself firmly. What could Luke actually do to me? He was one guy, one investment banker in San Diego. He couldn’t hurt me and why would he even want to? And he had no right to try and tell me what to do.
“Did I tell you about the new program launch?” Rodney asked, his eyebrows quirking with soft amusement.
“No?” I said, fork pressed to my mouth, suddenly interested in his day. I wondered if Kyle had been there. Weird to think that Kyle was, effectively, Rodney’s boss.
“Well,” he began, “there was a bit of a party for it, and Blake got a bit, um, cheerful, and he was busy toasting everyone with his glass and he fell over.” When we all laughed, he carried on. “That’s not all. When he was busy pulling himself up again, Kyle said, “excuse us for the system’s crash.” I know, it’s not that funny now—but for ten programmers, it was hilarious.”
I was laughing, smiling at him. I was imagining Kyle cheerful and joking. Kyle probably more like he was always supposed to be, before the pain and hurt affected him.
He is coming out of himself, I thought with a big grin. So good to hear a story of him being confident and assured. Funny.
“It is funny,” I said, still chuckling slightly. He smiled.
“I know. I’m still laughing too. He’s a good guy.”
“He is.”
I felt my heart melt. It was wonderful. My little brother liked him, he was sweet and kind and funny. I loved him.
I blinked in surprise. I did?
Yes, I realized, with a funny melting feeling in my heart. I really did. I had never felt that before. But now I knew what it was. I loved Kyle. And, if I thought about it, he was certainly very kind to me. Kinder than anyone had ever been before. If that indicated anything, he felt strongly for me.
I looked at Mom and Rodney, my heart overflowing with love. As I felt it, the fear of Luke disappeared, washed away in the outpouring of love.
“Guys, I’m so happy to see you,” I said warmly, raising my glass to them.
Mom smiled at me, her eyes damp. “Oh, baby. You have no idea how great it is to see you.”
“Yeah, Bee,” Rodney said, saluting me with his glass. It was lemonade—Rodney never drank, since he never liked it.” It’s great to see you.”
“I love you guys,” I said, my throat tight.
We all smiled at each other and it felt as if a gentle warmth settled on the kitchen.
“Well,” Mom said after a long moment. “Anyone for lasagna? There’s enough in there for a second lot for everyone.”
“Hooray! Sergeant Mom and the army canteen…”
We all laughed as Rodney teased mom. Mom grinned.
“Yes.”
As Mom gave us all seconds and she and Rodney teased each other, I closed my eyes and let myself feel surrounded by the wash of love and tenderness in that small family kitchen. I felt so happy. No matter what happened next, I would always remember this moment.