AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What’s going on?” Bethany demanded.
Rebecca’s nostrils flared. “She knows we’re here.”
“And? Where is she? Is she coming back?”
Rebecca shrugged. “I don’t know anything else.” Listless, she shifted the car from park and slowly eased through the parking lot, heading back to the old Victorian home. It seemed as though both Victor and Esme were in the midst of a horrendous later-life crises as she dealt with her own midlife one. She prayed Bethany was up for the ride. They needed her.
Chapter Twelve
The mattress hadn’t dried properly. This was a conundrum, as Doug had already nodded off in his chair in front of the television and would soon need a real place to sleep. Ben heaved his own mattress from his bed upstairs and walked down the stairs very slowly, careful not to trip. If he got injured, what would Doug do? When he reached the living room, he set the mattress into Doug’s bed frame, stretched new sheets onto it, added fresh pillows, and clapped his hands. Doug peered at him sleepily from his chair.
“All this racket is distracting,” he complained. “I’m trying to watch my shows.”
“Don’t lie to me. You’re as exhausted as I am.”
“Where the heck are you going to sleep?” Doug demanded. Slowly, he shifted forward in his chair and stood. The pain was apparent in his eyes, but he didn’t complain.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll figure something out,” Ben explained.
Within the next ten minutes, Doug was fast asleep in the living room. Ben flipped off the television and turned his attention to his own needs. It was only nine at night, and his mind whirred with worries about the house. What he needed was a walk. What he needed was a drink.
Ben wasn’t a big drinker. Riddled with trauma, sorrow, and PTSD, he was frightened that too much alcohol would throw him into a dark chasm of despair. As it was, he drank a beer here and there with Doug, who didn’t seem to think twice about enjoying himself. Probably when you were ninety-eight, all your neuroses fell away. The future was no longer something to fear.
Ben placed Doug’s cell phone directly beside Doug’s bed, along with a note to call him if he needed anything. He then tugged on his spring jacket, donned a black beanie, and headed into the crisp June night.
The moon hung low in the pitch-black sky, and stars sparkled over their little island in the middle of the ocean. For not the first time, Ben asked himself if Nantucket was real or if he’d invented it somewhere in his traumatized mind. As he walked toward Sunset Cove Bar, he watched the tourists. Wearing a gentle smile, he observed fathers carrying their tired children on their chests, older children licking ice cream cones, and mothers pushing strollers, their eyes soft with fatigue and happiness.
What would it have been like to feel like a part of a family? Would Ben have liked to be a father? To feel responsible for helpless little children? Sometimes, Ben had dreams about his ex-wife. In the dreams, he’d never gone to war, and they’d had children. The dreams were filled with small arguments, laughing fits in a kitchen he didn’t recognize, and long walks through a city he’d never seen before. By the time he awoke, his psyche had nearly convinced him his dreams were true.
The Sunset Cove Bar was jam-packed. Only one barstool remained at the bar counter, and Ben made a beeline for it. It was better that the bar was busy; it meant nobody would single him out and wonder why he was all alone.
Ben ordered a beer and looked at his phone for a little while. Due to his poor attendance because of his depression last summer, he hadn’t been asked back to his dishwashing job, which left him in a bind. He scanned through online applications for other dishwasher, server, and deliverer positions and sent a few inquiries. As usual when he applied anywhere, he knew the next job would go nowhere. They would fire him sooner or later, and he would have to find another to take its place.
And eventually, his and Doug’s house would crumble around them. They would be homeless veterans. Just another statistic.
Disheartened, Ben ordered another beer and glanced around the bar, careful not to linger on anyone too long. If he didn’t want anyone to stare at him, he couldn’t stare back.
That was when he noticed him. Rebecca’s father, who’d been outside the Sutton Book Club, sat two stools away. He was hunched over his beer, and his gray hair spilled wildly around his ears. He muttered to himself and cupped his ears.
As Ben watched, another older man approached. His voice boomed over the chaos of other conversations. “Is that you, Victor Sutton?”
Victor turned to show panicked eyes. After a split second, he took back control of his face. “Henry Collins. You son of a gun.” They clapped hands and shook.
The stool between Ben and Victor had recently been vacated. Henry slid onto it and shook his head at Victor. “I never thought I’d see the day you’d walk back through the doors of the Sunset Cove.”
“It’s your lucky day. Or is it your nightmare?” Victor tried to laugh, but it sounded all wrong.
“I see you on television all the time,” Henry continued. “The world-renowned family and child psychologist. What you did with that talk show host last year was monumental. At least, that’s what my wife calls it.”
Victor grunted. From what Ben could see, all the light had drained from his eyes.
“My wife told me Esme’s missing,” Henry went on. “But half the island thinks she’s just hiding out until you leave.” Henry wheezed with laughter.
Victor tried to join him yet failed.
“We came to really like Larry,” Henry continued. “Good man. Like Esme, he was all about that Book Club. I remember Esme saying you only read something if it furthered your career. Oh, but heck. Your career is far and away better than anyone else’s around here. I guess all that reading paid off.”
Ben’s heart dropped into his stomach. Who was this horrible man? And why did he feel it necessary to kick Victor when he was obviously down?
