Ben eyed the plate before him with a feeling of apprehension. There’s generosity―and then there’s this. If the amount of food on the table was any indicator, Ma intended to celebrate the return of her sons by feeding them all the meals they’d missed while Nate was imprisoned in one go.
“You trying to make sure I don’t leave home again by filling me so full I can’t leave the table?” Nate shared Ben’s thoughts. “Look at this! The mashed potatoes alone are the size of my head.” But he picked up his fork anyway.
“A lot of mothers wouldn’t even bother cooking for a son who put her through all the worry I’ve had.” Ma placed a jug of gravy on the table, pausing to smooth Nate’s hair. “You’re lucky you’re getting anything at all.”
“So that’s it.” Despite his complaints, Nate was making serious inroads on his dinner. “You’re planning on giving us a stomach ache by way of revenge.”
“Sit down, Ma.” Ethan was working his way steadily through his serving of cheesy baked broccoli. “Your food’s getting cold.”
Ma patted Ethan’s cheek affectionately as she took her seat. “It’s very good to have a full house again.” Her smile rested with evident pleasure on her children.
Ben watched. In his many years of working for ARX, he’d assisted many families after the death of a loved one. They’d saved lives, put vengeful spirits to death, but they’d never done anything like this―reuniting a family.
He liked it.
“Eat up, Ben, there’s plenty to go around.” Ma didn’t manage more than a few mouthfuls before she was back out of her seat. “There’s sausages to come.”
“This is enough, thank you.”
“Nonsense.” Ma slid a freshly cooked sausage out of the frying pan and onto Ben’s plate. “You’re one of the family now, you don’t need to hold back.”
Family? Ben’s mouth quirked. Ma certainly hadn’t made any distinction between the massive servings she’d given Ethan and Nate and Ben’s heaped plate. He looked to see if Nate shared his amusement, instead caught Nate hastily looking away.
Ben looked down at his plate. There’d been no chance to talk to Nate privately. Things were still unresolved between them. We can’t go back to how we were before. But what did that leave them?
Ben blinked as Ethan reached over, taking up his plate. In one quick movement, he removed the bulk of Ben’s meal, leaving him with the sausage and an entirely manageable portion of mashed potatoes.
Ben stared at him, but Ethan steadfastly resisted meeting his eye. “Like Nate said. More for us.”
Ben picked up his knife and fork. “Nice to know I’m good for something.” He felt Nate looking at him, turned to meet Nate’s eyes.
This time, Nate smiled.
Ben had finished his much more reasonably sized meal and was trying to convince Ma that he didn’t need seconds when a vehicle pulled up outside. Nate stood up to look out the window. “It’s a truck with a trailer―one of those old RVs.”
“Silver?” Ben stood. “That’ll be George. I’ll see what she wants.”
George wound down the truck window. “I’m not staying. Just dropped by to let you know I’m headed to New Camden.”
“Am I supposed to wish you luck?”
George grinned at him. Today’s lipstick was a rich burgundy. “Jealous that you’re missing out on the excitement? You know, if you’re good and promise not to steal my thunder, I might let you be my sidekick.”
“Your sidekick?”
“Too dangerous for you? That’s right, I forgot you’re retired.” George smirked at him. “I suppose I could find some paperwork for you to file as my secretary.”
“Pass.”
George shrugged, drumming her fingers along the side of the truck. “Had to ask. You change your mind, you have my number.”
“And you’ve got mine.” They weren’t friends. George had endangered Nate and risked Ethan, and Ben wasn’t entirely sure that she wasn’t going to drag him into more danger just by association. But all the same, he found himself grasping to find the right words for her. “Be careful, George.”
George laughed. “If I was careful, I wouldn’t be in this profession.” She wound up the window.
Ben stepped back to watch her back out onto the road. The lazy afternoon breezes were just starting to cool, stirring the evening air pleasantly and tugging at Ben’s shirtsleeves. He lingered on the lawn, watching the changing color of the fading sunset play across the clouds. The mountain peaks caught the light, but the slopes were already a mass of shadow. Slip away now and he wouldn’t be noticed. Nate, Ethan, and Ma were so complete in their happiness, they wouldn’t even notice―
“Hey.” The porch creaked as Nate leaned on the end of it. “It’s safe to come back inside. Ma’s stopped cooking. She’s making up the spare bed.”
Ben walked slowly across the garden. “I was planning on heading back to New Camden. Your family―they’ve only just got you back. I don’t want to intrude.” It’s the truth. So why, when Nate looks at me, does it feel like an excuse?
“You’re not intruding. Ma, Ethan, they both want you to stay. Okay, that’s an exaggeration.” Nate scratched the back of his neck. “Ma wants you to stay. Ethan probably wouldn’t notice one way or another.”
Ben’s mouth flickered. He was pretty sure Ethan would notice. Does that mean I’ve made it with Nate’s family? “What about you?”
“You don’t know?”
Ben wrapped his arms around himself. “I said some harsh things. I know you’re not trying to manipulate me―”
Nate sat on the edge of the porch. “Maybe not on purpose. But my day job is entirely based on making people not just like me, but need me. I―” He hesitated, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “Sandy left without a word. Amber dumped me without any warning. You― Maybe I am coming on too strong. I’m terrified you’re going to leave just like they did.”
“Nate―”
Nate shook his head. “When I told you about them in the barn, I’m not going to lie, a big part of me was hoping that you’d say you weren’t going to leave. This time―” He looked down at his knees. “I don’t want a promise you’re not ready to make or you to feel sorry for me. I just want you to know that I did a lot of thinking while locked up, and I didn’t like some of the conclusions I came to. It’s not fair to you to bring my past into our relationship. So, yeah. I want you to stay, but I also don’t want to pressure you.”
Ben pulled himself up on the porch to sit next to Nate. He gripped the edge of the wood to keep from reaching for Nate’s hand. To be so close, and not touching seemed―wrong. “I― My mother was an agent of this same demon. I was very nearly her victim.”
He heard Nate exclaim but didn’t trust himself to look at him. “I have a lot of negative associations with love because of―the incident.” He winced at the sound of his own voice. Formal and frozen, as if he was talking about someone else. I could tell George! Why is it so hard to tell Nate? Ben swallowed. “Logically I know you’re looking out for me, but sometimes, I let my fear get the better of me. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to― Shit.” Nate had no reservations about taking and squeezing Ben’s hand. “That―”
Ben’s smile was rueful, as he turned to Nate. “I’m starting to realize that I have more issues than simply the vampire ones.”
“How do I subscribe?”
“Nate!” Ben elbowed him. “That’s terrible.”
“I’m sorry. Couldn’t help it. But.” Nate grinned at him. “We already knew we’re complicated. We don’t have to figure things out right now.”
Ben made a noncommittal sound. Nate’s fingers stroked his wrist. The gesture was probably unconscious, but it was calming, making him feel relaxed―more relaxed than Ben had any right to feel in the current situation. “If I stay―we’re probably going to have sex.”
“Definitely.”
Ben squeezed Nate’s hand in warning. “Every time we do, I…get more comfortable with you, closer to you. I’m…really starting to depend on you.”
“Is that such a bad thing?” Nate sounded curious rather than defensive.
“What if we decide to break up? It’s going to be devastating. Or if we need each other too much―”
“Ben.” Nate brushed Ben’s hair out of his eyes, and Ben automatically looked up to meet Nate’s eyes. “We don’t know what the future’s going to throw at us. The only thing we know is right now.”
“Are you saying I’m overthinking?”
“I’m saying that planning for circumstances that haven’t happened yet, and might never happen, is an exercise in stress. Figure out what you want right now, what is best for you, and go from there.”
Ben swung his heels against the porch, looking out at the rental car across the garden. It was a long drive back to New Camden, and he was tired―too tired to make the long trip. If it hadn’t been for his uncertainty about Nate, Ben wouldn’t have hesitated to take up Ma’s invitation.
And Nate…
Ben placed his hand on Nate’s arm and moved it down in a gentle caress, observing that Nate’s fingers tightened on the wood of the porch much like Ben’s had earlier. “Holding yourself in check?”
“I don’t want to make your decision for you.”
“I know you don’t.” Ben placed his hand over Nate’s. “Trusting you with my life was easy. I don’t know why it’s so hard to trust you with my heart.”
“No one said this was easy. Or made sense.”
Ben’s mouth quirked. “I guess not. Then― I’d like to stay tonight.”
“Only tonight?”
Ben made himself firm. “If I don’t figure out what I want―who I am―I’m going to be forever wondering if I’m giving in to you.”
“I hear there’s this thing called compromise. Apparently relationships are based on it.”
Ben struggled to keep his mouth flat. Smiling now would ruin everything. “You’re right. But in order for us to have a proper relationship, I need to figure out what’s important to me―what I won’t compromise. Do you understand?”
“I know this is going to sound needy and desperate, but is there anything I can do?” Nate looked down. “I understand you needing space, but part of me still feels like I’m never going to see you again.”
“Maybe this will be good for both of us. You’ll see that we don’t have to be always together in order to be together.”
“I can text you right? And call?”
Ben nodded. “We can still meet.”
“You mean like on dates?”
Ben’s mouth quirked. “We haven’t actually been on a date yet, have we?”
“No wonder we’re messed up. We’ve been doing this entire relationship back to front.” Nate stood up, squeezing Ben’s hand. “Come on. If we’ve only got the one night, let’s not waste it.”
✩✩✩
Considering how little sleep Ben got, there was no way he should have felt as peaceful or rested as he did the following morning. He wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t half-asleep still. The day had a muted, unhurried feeling to it. Ben might have thought he was still dreaming―if his nightmare hadn't woken him.
No one spoke much over breakfast, but it was the companionable silence of friends, rather than fraught with tension. Ben took advantage to indulge his thoughts. Was his current cozy feeling the result of waking up with Nate wrapped around him―or the result of the activity that led to Nate staying the night with him, in clear defiance of Ma’s rules? It was a hard problem to solve, and Ben gave it his full attention.
Ma put down her coffee cup. “Nate, Ben. If you’ve finished with your breakfast, I’d like a word with you.”
Ben put down the piece of toast he was struggling with instantly. Ma’s statement killed what little appetite he had. He glanced at Nate. So much for Ma’s rules being lifted?
“What’s up?” Nate also put down his coffee.
Ma took a moment before replying. “Nate. You’ve never been to the old Winnaker property, have you?”
“What, the old farm?” Nate shook his head. “I know where it is―Pa showed us the boundary―but he said we shouldn’t ever play there. That the house wasn’t safe, that we should leave it alone.”
Ma considered him. “I think it’s time you went,” she said at last. “Ethan’ll take you. Ben, you stay here with me.”
Ethan stood at once, putting his plate on the counter, but Nate shot Ben a puzzled look. “I don’t know. If it’s Ben’s last day―”
“Ma’s right.” Ben put his hands on his knees where they couldn’t be seen beneath the table. “You should go.”
Nate still hesitated. “Are you going to be here when I get back?”
Ben nodded. “I won’t leave without saying good-bye.”
Nate was visibly relieved. “Thanks.” He followed his brother out the door. “You have me nervous now, being all mysterious. If this is a new strain of apple…”
Ben listened to Nate’s complaints gradually fade out of hearing. His fists were clenched under the table. Everything in him wanted to go with Nate, protect him from―what exactly? I don’t know. I don’t know what it is or if Nate needs protecting from it―and even if I did, that’s not my call to make. Choosing to stand on his own had one distinct disadvantage. I can’t protect Nate. I have to let him live his own life.
Ma’s sigh startled Ben. “It’s been a long time coming.” Ma stood, automatically gathering up the breakfast dishes. “But it’s time.”
Ben stood. “Can I wash?”
Ma looked as if she would refuse but decided against it. “Thank you.” She placed her hand on Ben’s arm as he carried his own dishes to the sink. “You’ve done a lot for my sons―both of them,” she said. “I hope Nate has told you that you’re welcome here―no matter what the two of you decide to do.”
“That means a lot.” Ben hesitated. He didn’t know how much of what was behind Ben’s decision to return to New Camden Nate had shared with his mother.
But Ma spoke before he could. “There’s something you should know about us, Ben. I haven’t told anyone what I’m about to tell you. Mitch and I, we couldn’t ever have children. I was heartbroken when I found out―we tried various options, but nothing worked. I was getting desperate, and then a hiker stopped by.” She picked up the dishcloth, drying the dishes as she talked. “He was a retired forest ranger, finally hiking the trails that he’d been working on all those years. We ended up inviting him to stay for lunch and he told us the strangest tale. He’d heard it from another ranger. When the area became a national park, the state looked into buying up the land around it, to preserve the forest. Most folks refused to sell for the price they were offering. But Winnaker jumped at it. Sold his entire farm and was glad of it. The ranger thought this was odd, and so he got to talking to Old Winnaker. Winnaker was reluctant to talk at first, but a couple of beers later, he told the ranger the farm was cursed and the park was welcome to it.”
Ben realized that he’d stopped washing to stare at her. “Cursed?”
“That’s what he said. Seems there was a chestnut tree on his farm, not too far from his house. This was before the blight, when the woods around here were so full of chestnut trees that people went out with a rake to gather nuts. Nate’s told you about the blight?”
Ben handed Ma the next dish. “He’s mentioned it a couple of times.”
“It’s hard to comprehend the difference it made here. More than the nuts, the chestnuts were Little River’s main source of lumber―an entire industry gone, just like that. Half the town left with the chestnuts. I wasn’t born then, but I heard it from my parents.” Ma placed the dried plate on the bench but didn’t immediately reach for the next. “Anyway, this happened as the blight reached us. Old Winnaker got up one morning, and in place of the chestnut tree, there was an oak. He gathered the pastor to be a witness, swore up and down that the chestnut tree had turned itself into an oak. Folks thought he was daft, that the stress of the blight had got to him. Tensions were high as you can imagine, with news of the blight approaching and nothing nobody could do to stop it. Signs had already been seen on some of our trees.” Ma placed a hand on the counter. “No one had time to listen to Winnaker’s crazy stories much less believe them. So he decided to get rid of the tree himself. It was a big oak, so wide that three men couldn’t get their arms around it. Wider than Winnaker could cut down in one day. He tried and tried, but when he returned next morning to finish the job, the tree was healed. It became an obsession with him. He swore the tree was alive and against him. Well, he didn’t have a good temper to start with, so no one was really surprised when his wife ran away, and his children all left home. But Winnaker blamed the tree. He tried poison, he tried fire, but no matter what he tried, the tree remained. Once the forest park took over the farm, he left Little River and never returned.”
Ma put the dishcloth on the counter. “I think I need another cup of coffee. Will you join me, Ben?”
“Of course.” There was no way Ben was missing the end of Ma’s story.
Ma took her time, blowing on her coffee before taking the first sip. “It’s a relief to talk about this at last. Ethan… I’ve always been afraid to ask Ethan how much he knows.”
Ben looked up from his own coffee with a feeling of shock. When Ma had said she hadn’t told anyone, he’d assumed that didn’t include her family. “What happened?”
“We went to the Winnaker farm.” Ma leaned back in her chair. “After hearing the ranger’s story, Mitch and I were curious to see the tree for ourselves. Mitch knew exactly how to reach the farm, so we went there. You’ve been there yourself, so you know what we found.”
Ben nodded. “There’s―something there. A definite presence.”
“I felt it, as strongly as if it was a person standing right beside me. Mitch and the ranger, they didn’t feel a thing. They were arguing over whether or not they’d got the right place―the farm was too overgrown to only have been abandoned forty years. But I knew. I could feel it. I put my hand on the trunk. I couldn’t understand it, but I knew it was lonely somehow. It was wanting something. Maybe it felt my want for a baby―we’d just had a call from the hospital that morning. The latest test had come back negative, and it seemed hopeless. Anyway, I think the tree understood. Something fell on the ground near me, a chestnut shell. I put it in the pocket of my skirt, not saying anything about it to the ranger, but that night, I told Mitch I thought it was a sign. He thought I was out of my mind, but he humored me. We ate the nuts together. Nine months later, our son was born.”
Ben realized he was holding his breath. He swallowed, his throat uncomfortably tight. “Your son?”
“He was the quietest child you ever saw.” Ma’s smile was fond, her eyes settled on the wall beyond Ben. “Hardly cried at all, and the sweetest way of looking at you. He was everything I’d ever wanted. As he grew up, the district nurses and the other mothers said there was something different about him, but to me he was perfect. It didn’t matter that he didn’t talk, that he was the last of his antenatal group to learn to walk. He was my precious, precious son. He loved helping me in the garden, would follow after me everywhere. Mitch would take him into the orchard with him, and they could spend hours there. I never knew a child so happy.” Ma’s expression clouded. “And then Mitch had the heart attack. We were entirely taken by surprise. You’ll think me a horrible mother, but in the panic of calling the ambulance, and taking care of Mitch till they arrived, I didn’t have a thought to spare for our boy. He was so good and so quiet always, that it wasn’t until the ambulance had left, and I was packing a bag to send to the hospital for Mitch that I remembered he was still out in the orchard.”
She was being very careful to avoid saying ‘Ethan.’ Ben gripped his cup of coffee tightly. He wasn’t sure where this was going.
“When I found him―” Ma took a moment to steel herself. “He was covered in blood. His thumb was missing―cut clean off.” She shook her head, her mouth tightening. “Mitch had been grafting, and he’d copied his father. I was distraught as you could imagine. I don’t know how much time I spent searching for the missing thumb, praying we’d be in time for the hospital to reattach it but―he wouldn’t show me where it was. Only when we were back at the house and I was starting to call the ambulance did I realize that my son wasn’t acting as though he was hurt. He was calm, uncomplaining as I cleaned him up and bandaged his wound. I thought of the tree and for the first time… I wondered.”
Ma looked at Ben. Her face was tired. “You'll think me heartless for not rushing him to the hospital. I was afraid. He was my world, and I was afraid that if people knew just how different he was, I would lose him. I couldn’t bear the thought of it. So I did nothing.” She sighed, looking down at the woody grain of the table. “Mitch was furious when he found out. By then it was too late to do anything, but he told me off for jumping to conclusions, demanded to see the wound for himself. You can imagine our shock when we removed the bandage to find that his thumb was growing back.”
Ben stared at her. Neither of the twins was missing a thumb. He didn’t even remember seeing a scar.
“A few more days and it was good as new. Nothing to show that anything had happened. Mitch and I had many discussions about whether or not to consult the pastor, but in the end, it came back to fear. We didn’t want to lose him.”
Ben placed his palms flat on the table. He needed to steady himself. “What happened next?”
“Mitch had to take things easy. The doctor forbade him from doing any strenuous work. It was a month before he went back to the orchard―and he immediately came back to the house so white and trembling that I started to call the ambulance thinking he’d had another attack. He stopped me, told me I had to go, look in the orchard. I did.” Ma laced her fingers together over around the coffee cup. “There was a baby in the orchard.”
“A baby?”
Ma’s brow furrowed at the memory of the discovery. “He was a tiny, skinny little thing, about a year old, but completely naked and fast asleep in the orchard grass. I couldn’t believe that Mitch had just left him there, and I bent to pick him up. That’s when I realized he was growing from the tree by this thumb.”
Ben stared at her.
Ma met his eyes directly. “You’re probably wondering how I could just leave the baby like that. Well, he seemed perfectly healthy where he was, except for a slight, greenish tinge, and I was that shocked, I didn’t know what else to do. Mitch and I talked it over back at the house. Once I got over the fright, I wanted to bring the baby inside. Mitch wouldn’t hear of it. ‘This is no ordinary baby, Emma,’ he said. ‘We don’t know how it works. We might hurt the poor thing.’ He convinced me to wait, promising that if it seemed like the baby was in a bad way, we’d help it. He let me put a blanket over the baby, and one or the other of us checked on him every day. He grew fast―a lot faster than a baby should. Within days he was the size of a toddler.
“At the same time, our son had developed a fondness for playing outside on his own. He’d disappear for hours into the orchard. Some of his clothes disappeared, and he got in the habit of taking food from the pantry. Mitch insisted we let him be and waited to see how things played out. And then one day, I called our boy in for dinner, and he had a second little boy, exactly like him but for his thinness. ‘He’s my friend,’ our boy explained. ‘Can I keep him in the shed?’”
Ma shrugged, or at least, she tried to. “You can guess what happened. We took the second little boy in, and the two became inseparable. Within days it was impossible to tell one from the other. We had a hard time explaining the second child to our neighbors. We said there’d been a mix-up at the hospital, but I’m afraid a lot of our neighbors suspected Mitch of having an affair. It must have been hard for him, but he said it was better that than letting the truth be known about our sons―and by that time, they were both our sons.”
“Who―”
Ma shook her head decisively. “We don’t know,” she said. “The plant child ate so well and learned so quickly that within days I couldn’t tell who was who and they both answered to ‘Ethan.’ When they started school, we picked one to be Ethan and one to be Nathan, but I could not tell you now which was the son I bore and which the son we found.”
She was lying. Ben watched her avoid his eyes. He knew she was lying―but he couldn’t fault the motives behind the lie. Any mother would want to give her children the same equal footing. “What are you going to do?”
“What I’ve always done.” Ma picked up her cup of coffee. “Love them both.”
✩✩✩
Retracing his steps through the forest would have been easier if there had been steps to trace, or if the forest had not been quite as full of trees. Everywhere Ben looked the trees looked much the same as the trees he walked past minutes earlier.
Even the forest felt different. Some of the pressure had lifted, the presence strong but no longer so concentrated. Ben quickened his pace as he saw the fence up ahead. Almost there.
The difference Ben felt was not his imagination. As he approached the house, Ben paused, looking around him. Weren’t there oak trees here before? Instead of the oaks, there were long, thin trees that stood as straight as soldiers being inspected. Looking up into their branches, Ben could see spiky green pods. Chestnuts? He looked for the large oak.
In the center of the clearing which the large oak had previously dominated, was an immense tree, its trunk so huge that four men would have struggled to get their arms around it. Standing in front of it in silent contemplation were Ethan and Nate. Ben hesitated. Although neither twin spoke, he had the feeling he was interrupting.
Nate glanced at him as Ben walked up beside him. His eyes were suspiciously bright. “Ben. You’re not going believe this.” Nate looked up at the tree, and Ben followed his gaze. “It’s a chestnut tree. These are all chestnuts. But there’s not supposed to be any chestnuts left! The blight―”
The tree towered. It was taller than the oak had been, standing proud and strong―but Ben didn’t sense any of its earlier overpowering intensity. Was it the feeling of being constantly constrained, held in check that had produced the pressure that hung over the valley?
Nate grasped for Ben’s hand. “This― I don’t know how to explain this. It feels like I’ve been here before―that this place is inside me. But I know I’ve never been here. Am I losing my mind?”
“There is a lot of magical energy in this forest.” Ben squeezed Nate’s hand, leaning against him. “Every living thing has the potential for magic. It’s usually associated with people, but some animals have demonstrated ability to use it. Black cats, for example. There’s no reason why a tree couldn’t possess magic. Or that, knowing that it was threatened, do what it could to protect and preserve itself and its fellow trees, gathering the energy of its dying kin, and disguising itself and its offspring as oak to avoid the chestnut blight and remaining here ever since.”
Nate’s hand rested on Ben’s shoulder. His presence seemed to be a support. “And you think this is why Ethan and I are―different? We’re not trees.”
Ben thought hard. Was there any way to explain what wasn’t his story to explain?
Ethan took his brother by the wrist and placed Nate’s hand on the chestnut’s trunk. “They’re ours. And we’re theirs.”
Ben watched silently. He didn’t know what Nate felt, but he saw the confusion in his face clear. Something inside Ben eased. He’s going to be okay. There was a chestnut-sized lump in this throat, and Ben swallowed it with difficulty. He wanted independence for himself. He couldn’t grudge Nate his.
“But why now?” Nate asked. “If they’ve always been here―why stop hiding now?”
“It’s time,” Ethan said, placing his own hand on the tree. “No more hiding. For any of us.”