Calmer Secrets: Calmer Girls 2 (Calmer Girls Series) Read online

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  Another unexpected turn of events awaited her when she arrived at Cash and her mother's house on Friday. Finding the place empty, she phoned Kalen as soon as she landed, to see if he had any new playing gigs scheduled for the weekend and the following week. She'd called and talked to him the previous weekend, but playing engagements could pop up sometimes when other bands cancelled. All a part of the spontaneity and nature of the local entertainment biz.

  Mel answered. “Hi, Samantha. Kalen is gone. He moved his stuff into his new home this morning.”

  “He has his own place now?”

  “Uh-oh. I thought you already knew. Maybe he meant it for a surprise.”

  “That’s possible, I guess,” Samantha said.

  “I'm sure he'll call you soon. We have a practice session tonight around the corner in Gerry's brother's basement, so he's supposed to meet us there at seven thirty.”

  “Oh, okay. Do you know if he has a phone hooked up there yet?”

  “I think I heard Gerry say Kalen's getting a cell phone. Listen, sorry, I have to run and pick up some Chinese food for supper. I'll see you at practice, huh?”

  “Yeah, probably. Thanks, Mel.”

  “Bye!”

  Samantha frowned as she went to bring her suitcase into her bedroom. Had Kalen gotten a new job and neglected to tell her about that too? Something had to pay for all these expensive changes in his life. The deposit on an apartment alone required hundreds of dollars, and he must have a contract for the new cell phone. She knew only a handful of people with cellular phones, so she had limited knowledge of how much they cost.

  It could be he’d finally lucked into a heavy equipment position with one of the local construction firms. That would make perfect sense. She should hear from him soon with his good news.

  Maybe, she guessed while she hung up her clothes in the tiny closet, an invitation for her to move in could be in her future. She smiled at the mental picture of the two of them setting up house and sleeping together every night she was home from Corner Brook, and beyond, when at last she graduated next year and, with any luck, found a job of her own. A warm tremble ran through her at the notion. She longed to see him and to hear all the juicy details of his “surprise”.

  The phone jangled in the kitchen. She ran, grabbing the receiver before the second ring ended.

  “Samantha? Hi. It's Mandy.”

  “Oh, hi.”

  “I've got Henry here with me. Ronnie is working overtime and won't get off until eight or eight thirty. Would it be alright if I brought him over there?”

  “Sure! Momma's at work, but I can take care of him.” She checked her watch. Six o'clock. She might miss the band practice but she should be able to meet up with Kalen afterwards. “Come on over.”

  “Thanks, Sam. You're a lifesaver. We've got our midterm break party tonight with the MUN crowd and Gina wants us to get there early to help with the prep work. We're on our way.”

  Darlene probably got delayed at work later than planned too, Samantha presumed. She swung open the fridge door, wondering if Henry had eaten yet. Hungry herself, she eyed a Tupperware container inside, filled with what she guessed to be leftover pea soup. Unsure if Henry liked it, she set to the task of reheating it on the stove anyway and took a sleeve of soda crackers down from the cupboard. She spied a can of Chef Boyardee mini ravioli in the cupboard too, which she knew her nephew liked, so there was a backup menu for him.

  While she set bowls and spoons on the table, the doorbell rang. They didn't waste much time getting here, she mused as she hurried to answer it, eager to see the young boy.

  Samantha opened the door with a big smile, anticipating seeing Mandy and Henry. Her smile evaporated as she stared back at the serious expression and the dark eyes that greeted her.

  It was Ben.

  Chapter Eight

  “Each time you happen to me all over again.”

  ― Edith Wharton, The Age of Innocence

  “Samantha! I didn’t know I’d see you here,” he said, his eyebrows raised, standing in thick arches on his forehead. Staring, he opened his mouth and closed it again. Jamming his hands in the pockets of his bomber jacket, he looked past her shoulder into the interior of the house. “This is the address Veronica gave me. Is she home?”

  Samantha scrambled to find her voice. The bitter February wind blew in, hitting her in the face. “Um, she's still at work. This is where Momma and her boyfriend Cash live, but Ronnie brings Henry here a lot. Come on in, your uh – he's on his way here now.”

  She withdrew from the doorway to allow him entry. Tripping over her wet boots standing near the entrance, she clawed at the doorjamb behind her to regain her balance, managing to steady herself at the same moment Ben reached his arm out to help her. They were inches apart, close enough for her to smell toothpaste on his breath and to catch the essence of him, the clean and singular scent of him she used to be so familiar with.

  She blinked, lightheaded. Intense moments they’d shared when she was sixteen and he was eighteen blazed through her mind, unbidden. Entranced by the flashback, she focused on the deep curve of his scar, like a small parenthesis on the corner of his mouth, a memento from his hockey-playing days. She longed to trace it with her finger like she used to.

  A deep, burning flush crept up her neck and washed over her. She pivoted on her heel to hide her embarrassment. “Can I get you something? A coffee?” She escaped into the kitchen, leaving him standing alone in the hall.

  “She said to come over this evening,” he called to her. “I guess I'm too early.”

  “She was scheduled to be off earlier but ended up working overtime. Her hours at Othello’s can be a tad unpredictable.”

  He trailed after her. “A glass of water will be fine.”

  “Coming right up,” she said, turning off the stove and putting the bubbling pea soup on the rear burner. Her appetite for supper had all but disappeared. Ben leaned against the counter, watching her. She poured the water for him from a jug in the fridge and invited him to wait in the living room with her. Observing him from behind as they walked back to the living room, she detected a slight limp in his gait which hadn’t been there before.

  He sat on the couch, so Samantha perched opposite him on the edge of Cash's La-Z-Boy recliner, trying to think of something neutral to talk about. The years since she’d seen Ben last had added more bulk to his tall frame. He seemed stronger, more muscled. More manly. She tried to stop herself from staring.

  A curious Lily padded into the room, sniffed the air with her delicate nose, and made a beeline for him. She jumped into his lap, curled into a ball, and purred as if he’d never left her behind more than four years ago.

  “I think someone might’ve missed you.”

  Smiling, he rubbed the cat’s ears. “I missed you too, my Lily.” She nudged his hand with her head for another fondle.

  “I meant to ask you when you phoned here at Christmas: what are you studying? You're at Dalhousie, I heard?” She would forgo any mention of Cherise. She'd let him bring her up if he so desired.

  “You heard right.” He put the emptied glass on the coffee table between them. “I’m studying Psychology. More specifically, Bachelor of Science with a major in Psych.”

  Samantha thought of his mother. “With the intent to counsel?”

  “Not sure yet. I tossed that around at first, but now I’m considering the research side of things. We'll see.”

  “Sounds intriguing.” She sensed a new maturity in him that pleased her.

  “My graduation will be delayed for a couple of years because I had a late start, unless I can figure out how to go straight through, summers and all. By the time my pelvis healed enough and I finished with most of the physio and other stuff, I'd lost an entire year.”

  Samantha nodded, reliving the dreadful aftermath of their auto accident. She'd sustained a concussion, a broken arm and the biggest scare of her life, yes, but Ben had suffered multiple injuries, including
a broken pelvis and a badly fractured femur. She guessed the “other stuff” he referred to was his therapy for depression.

  “Well, you sure appear to be healed. I mean, it's great to see you looking well again.” And hotter than ever. My nerves! “The last time we saw each other—”

  “I know. I was a wreck. Emotionally too, I might add. Of course, you already knew about that.” He gave her a penetrating look, as if to make sure she understood. “The worst is behind me now. I haven't felt this healthy in a long time.” He smiled, which made him even more handsome to her, if that were possible.

  “It shows,” she said quietly, a warmth filling her throat. Tears pricked behind her eyelids but she ignored them. “I'm so glad you’ve weathered the storm.”

  “It's wonderful to see you after all this time, Samantha. You’re beautiful.”

  She looked down into her lap, swallowing the lump and wiping the corners of her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. “Thanks.”

  They both stood when they heard the door push open. Samantha sprinted ahead of him, to see Mandy pulling off Henry's snow-laced boots.

  “Thammie!” the boy shouted, barrelling into her legs and wrapping his arms around her. She scooped him up in a hug, then helped him out of his puffy winter coat and buttoned cap.

  “Give me a kiss,” she said, laughing, squishing his cold pink cheek against hers. “Come on, plant one on me.” But the tot peeked over her shoulder at the tall stranger in his grandma's house. Samantha turned around so Ben could get a better look at him.

  “Henry, this is Ben,” she said. “Ben, my nephew Henry.”

  “Hi,” the small boy said brightly.

  “Hi yourself,” Ben replied with a smile. “How's it going, Mandy?”

  “Hey,” she said from the living room archway, flipping her head back with a jerk in a “whazzup” gesture. “It’s been a while, man.” Mandy and Ben had never gotten along well back in the day, so the gesture was huge coming from her. Samantha grinned inwardly.

  “Gotta bounce. Thanks a mill, Sam!” She reached out and chucked Henry under the chin. “By the way, he already had his supper,” she added before she left.

  Ben reached inside his jacket and approached Henry, who was still in Samantha’s arms. Out came a Batman action figure. “Hey, see who I found in my pocket? Now, how did he get there? Would you like to play with him?”

  Henry eyed the toy with open suspicion for a moment, then nodded slowly. It was the first time Samantha had ever witnessed him behaving in such a shy manner.

  “Here, you can have him if you want,” Ben said. But the boy didn't move a muscle. He kept staring at Ben and remained silent.

  “Go ahead, Henry,” Samantha coaxed. Only then did the boy thrust his hand out. When he snatched it from Ben, he buried his face into his aunt’s shoulder.

  Samantha put the boy down. “You two should get better acquainted while you’re waiting for Ronnie.”

  Ben glanced down at Henry, who had taken up playing with his new toy on the faded living room rug. The boy left for a moment and came running back with an armful of toy cars and trucks from the spare room. Over the few short years since Henry's birth, Darlene had stocked a full toy box in there for him.

  “There's something important I need to talk about with Veronica. You’re sure it’s alright to stick around for a while?”

  “Of course, Ben.”

  He walked over to the child and knelt beside him. “Wow, those are some boss trucks you’ve got there, Henry.”

  Henry looked up. “Wanna play wiff me?”

  “Sure.” Ben picked up a shiny red pickup truck, but Henry's arm shot out.

  “Not that one,” he said, grabbing it out of Ben's hand and placing it in his narrow lap. “That one ith my betht one.”

  “Oh, is that so?” Ben chuckled and picked up another. “How about this one?”

  “Okay-y-y,” Henry said with a touch of exasperation, already absorbed in his imaginary game as he sat Batman down in the back of the truck.

  Samantha curled up in the La-Z-Boy to watch them as they played, their heads bent together in their game of cars and trucks. She noted the contrast in their hair: Henry's, pale golden-blond and Ben's, dark and tousled. Tears threatened to emerge again, unsummoned, to see them together at last. To her, Ben didn't act like anyone trying to shirk his fatherly responsibilities. Again, she speculated whether this was the first time he had deemed himself healthy enough to come see his son and, after a lengthy but understandable delay, could now be the parent the child deserved. The scenario she created in her mind as she sat there made infinite more sense than the one she'd been led to assume. Besides, they were all older now, and with age came maturity. She could see how Ben might have at last come to terms with what everyone expected of him.

  But was she too hasty with her reasoning? Did she give him the benefit of the doubt because of their history? Perhaps she was biased. She admitted it as a distinct possibility. Try as she might, and as confused as she sometimes felt, it was undeniable she still harboured a deep-seated affection for him.

  Someone was at the front door. “I'm home!” Darlene called. “Samantha, are you here?”

  “Yes, Momma. And we have a guest.”

  Darlene walked through the archway to the living room. “Hello, Ben.”

  “Hi,” Ben replied, climbing to his feet and drawing himself up to his full height of six feet. He acted somewhat self-conscious. Henry ran to his grandmother, showing her the toy from his new friend.

  Samantha made a move to slip out of the room in case they wanted to talk in private. “Come in the kitchen with Auntie,” she called to Henry. “We'll see if we can find a snack for you before you get your bath with Mr. Bubbles, okay?”

  Once the boy had eaten a small bowlful of grapes, Samantha bathed him in the tub and dressed him in his favourite dinosaur-print pyjamas. She told him to pick out a bedtime storybook from his section on the living room bookshelf while she fetched a cup of milk for him. She stole a peek at a business-like Ben sitting nearby, leaning forward with elbows on knees and fingers tented in front of him. Her mother sat across the room, the perennial glass of red wine in her hand.

  The phone rang and Samantha answered it. Veronica chirped in her ear. “Hi Sam, it's me. Did Ben Swift show up yet?”

  “Yes, he’s been here a while now.”

  “I see.” A short pause hung between them. “I should be leaving in a few minutes. If he can't wait, that’s alright. I can talk to him another time.”

  “Well he's talking to Momma there now, so—”

  “He's seen Henry then?” she interrupted.

  “Oh yeah. They played together too.”

  “Alright, I'll be there when I get there.” The line went dead.

  Replacing the receiver, Samantha realized, with a start, she had yet to hear from Kalen. That’s odd. She knew he was busy moving and had practice with the band, but why hadn't he called her on his new phone? She hoped he was alright.

  “Ronnie said she'll be home soon,” she announced, giving Henry his milk.

  “Well, it's getting late, so I think someone needs to say nighty-night. Come along, Henry. Grandma's going to read to you and tuck you in.” The boy protested but allowed Darlene to herd him to bed.

  “G'night, little man,” Samantha said.

  “Good night, Henry,” Ben said with a small wave. His face resumed its sober aspect as soon as he and Samantha were alone again.

  She sat down in the recliner. “Is something wrong?” she asked, before she could bite the words back.

  “Your mother shared something interesting with me.” His tone bordered on disbelief. “Interesting and disturbing. She said she had no idea about the money my old man tried to give Veronica. You know, to help out with Henry.”

  “What?” Samantha's mouth dropped open.

  “You didn't know either?”

  “No. I know nothing about money from your father. When?”

  “He tried several times sin
ce Henry was born. I’ve had no income to speak of, but he's working at a great job now with a successful architectural firm in Dartmouth and can well afford to offer support. He mailed substantial money orders to her a couple of months after Henry was born, and for each of his Christmases as well as his three birthdays, but they were all sent back.”

  Samantha stared at him, incredulous. “Are you sure he sent them to the right address?”

  “Oh yeah. She received it all because she sent a note with the last Christmas gift, stating she refused to accept any charity from either of us, and for us to stop sending anything from there on in. Oh, and she also said she wanted her and Henry to be left alone. That was in December. So the old man stopped trying.” He ran long fingers through his hair. “And when I called here on Christmas Day, she told me the same thing. She barely tolerates me, and she has yet to tell me anything about Henry. Truth is, the old man and I have wondered what we should do about it ever since.”

  “All this time, you guys were trying to provide for your son and she rejected everything.”

  “Which makes me wonder: why would she? Is your sister that bitter and vindictive over our breakup, she’s denying me any relationship with him at all? Because she and I are ancient history doesn’t mean my son and I should be kept apart.” He rose from his chair and paced the floor. “I mean, she can despise me all she wants, it still isn't fair to the poor little guy.”

  “I agree! It’s totally unfair.” Samantha absorbed this new information. How could Veronica be so callous? Why was she blind to what was in Henry’s best interest? “I don't get it. And how she led Momma and Cash to believe the worst about you, that you were one of those deadbeat dads!”

  Ben crossed to the window, hands in his pockets, gazing out into the darkened street. “Did you believe it too, Samantha?”

  “I didn't want to believe it,” she said. “It didn't sound like something you were capable of. Not the guy I used to know, anyhow.” She went over to him. “Look at me, Ben.”