“Mostly, but we put flowers around the edges. Some of them help with insects, and the butterflies look so pretty around them.” She grinned at him, though her eyes were questioning. “Did you want me to plant you a nice row of beets?”
“Yuck. You bet. Right next to your favorite kind of squash.”
She left his side, taking a seat on a park bench in front of the candle shop. Lucy collapsed at her feet. “She’s tired.” Kate leaned forward to ruffle the golden retriever’s fur. Ben thought if dogs could purr, that’s what Lucy would be doing.
Without looking up, Kate said, “I thought maybe if we sat here for a little while, you’d want to talk about whatever’s really bothering you. We’ve already broken up, so it can’t be that. We’re doing pretty well with the friendship thing, so I don’t think it’s that, either. But something’s wrong.” She continued to stroke Lucy, her hands gentle on the old dog.
He sat beside her, thinking if they weren’t looking at each other, he could stop himself from telling her. But he hadn’t reckoned on the feel of her arm against his, the warmth of her skin through her sweatpants where their thighs touched or the remembered certainty that anything he said or did was safe with her. But a promise was a promise. He couldn’t tell her what was on his mind, hurting his heart, making his knuckles white. He couldn’t—
“It’s Pop.”
“Tim?” She laid her free hand on Ben’s where he clutched the edge of the bench between them. “I noticed he looked tired. Is there more to it?”
He chuckled, though there wasn’t any humor in the situation that he could see. “He’s had heart disease for years. There’ve been a few surgeries and he’s been on the transplant list. Mom’s taken great care of him when he hasn’t been well and they’ve chosen how they were going to live with the disease. Actually, he’s chosen and she’s made it possible. Patrick and I wanted him to retire five years ago. I’m sure you can imagine how that conversation went.”
She laughed, and her fingers squeezed his. “I’ll bet it made the ones about your ponytail seem mild in comparison.”
“Oh, heck, yes. There were even a few ‘don’t darken me doors’ tossed in there.”
Her fingers, nervous now, squeezed his again. “Go on. Tell me about your dad.”
“His heart disease has followed its natural course. He was on the transplant list, but the older he got and the worse his general health became, the less likely he was to receive a heart. He is at the point now that he probably wouldn’t survive the surgery. As he puts it, ‘me ticker’s winding down and the stem’s broken off the clock.’” Ben shook his head, finding relief in talking about his father.
“Oh, no.” Horror flickered across Kate’s features. “What does Maeve have to say to that?”
“She smacks him upside the head and starts singing to him. He sleeps a lot more than he used to, though, and every now and then, one of us will catch her just watching him and crying. You know Mom—she never lets anyone see her cry.” He fell silent for a minute, searching for equilibrium amongst all the thoughts of losing his father. “It’s hard.”
Kate secured Lucy’s leash under her foot and turned to face Ben, putting her arms around him. Her cheek, damp with tears he hadn’t seen there, rested against his. She didn’t give him “buck up” pats or whisper soft shushes into his ear, but just held him.
When she did speak, her words were brisk. “So, what can I do to help?”
It never occurred to him to give her the standard answer: Thanks anyway—we’ve got it covered. She’d know he was lying, for one thing, and would be insulted for another. Her offer came without strings or drama. The least he could do was accept it. “Work at McGuffey’s sometimes if you’ve got the time? Morgan’s helping out on weekends. I’ve taken a partial leave—I’ll work in Boston one or two days a week. Dylan’s taking some kind of sabbatical to come and cook for the summer. Patrick’s contributing some vacation days here and there when he can and so is Morgan’s fiancé, Jon. Mandy’s been with them for years, but the other waitress finally retired. She’d probably be willing to help out, but her feet and her back can’t take it anymore.”
“Yes.” Kate drew back, mopped her face on her sleeve and smiled at him, though the smile trembled at the edges of her mouth. “I’ll work as often as I can.”
He’d forgotten how beautiful that mouth was. He had to look away from her before he did something about it. He got to his feet. “We should get moving. Lucy’s sound asleep. So to answer your original question, short woman, bartender’s looking like the profession of choice. For a few months anyway.”
“I just saw Maeve and Morgan this afternoon. They didn’t say a word.”
“No one’s supposed to know. While they’re gone to Ireland, we can tell people, but they don’t want any ‘black wreaths hanging about the pub,’ to quote Pop again. I told you because you’re by way of being family, no matter what happened that night thirteen years ago.” Ben caught Kate’s hand and pulled her past the Bagel Stop. “Let’s go around a couple more blocks.”
Kate gave him a speculative look. “It’s giving you a chance to avoid making a decision, too, isn’t it?”
“It is,” he agreed instantly, although this was the very thing he hadn’t wanted to admit aloud. “I’ve never felt about medicine the way I thought I should, though it’s been a good life and a great living. But I can’t do a thing for my father, the person who does love medicine. Did you know he used to study with Patrick and me? Pop’s education is spotty at best—my grandfather thought being able to sign your name and balance your checkbook was sufficient for anyone—but he could have aced a few of the hardest tests we took. The fact is that for all the time and money and effort he put into our educations, none of our knowledge can do a thing for him. I don’t know if I want to continue practicing medicine. I just don’t know.”
They dropped Lucy off at the inn, grinning at each other when she lay down in a sighing heap on the back porch. Sally came to snuggle next to her. The dog was snoring by the time they closed the gate behind them to continue their walk.
“Take time to decide then,” she suggested. “It’s not what you would have chosen—we’d all like for Tim to live to be at least a hundred—but he’d be the first one to tell you to put this time to good use. Make lemonade out of a definite lemon situation.”
“Kind of like someone I know who’s going to manage a bed-and-breakfast.” Ben put his arm around her shoulders, tugging her close enough that he could feel her body heat as they walked. He didn’t need it—it was a warm evening—he just wanted it. Being with her eased the ache of thinking about his father and the abrupt and sad turn life had taken.
It was more than her clothes and the brightness of her hair and eyes. She smelled different, too.
“You’re right,” she admitted. “I am using the time to avoid making a real decision.”
Good grief, she not only smelled wonderful, she admitted he was right about something. Maybe the day wasn’t a complete loss after all.
“What are you going to do for breakfasts when Marce is gone?” he asked. Unless more had changed than he realized, the kitchen wasn’t Kate’s favorite room in the house, although she was a good cook.
“I’m going to cook them. Believe it or not, I’ve helped Penny cater enough that I’ve learned to enjoy cooking. Not to mention that I make arguably the best coffee in the Northeast Kingdom—next to Dylan. Penny’s going to make the pastries—she and Marce have always baked together and I don’t have the patience or the touch. I’ll do the laundry, and as soon as she’s home from college, Samantha’s going to help with the cleaning and be my backup when I need to be away from the inn. She didn’t have a job this summer, so that worked out