Ben strolled beside his grandfather on a path that wound through the retirement community. For the past week, since realizing he would like something more than simple friendship with Ashley, he’d kept silent about his feelings. But finally, he’d known he needed some wise counsel, the type his grandfather never failed to give him.
While they walked, Ben told Grandpa Grant everything—about Ashley and her reaction to her brother, about what Ben felt for her and what he feared, about everything. Then silence ensued until they settled onto a park bench to watch a couple of swans paddling in the pond.
“You will have to share your story, my boy, as you said. I know there’s a risk that your history might frighten her away, but I don’t see how you can put it off. It wouldn’t be honest. Especially not now. This must be her decision.”
“I know.” Ben leaned forward, arms braced on his thighs. He watched the midday light play across the water. The trees at the far side of the pond had turned to gold and red, the change of seasons painted across the landscape.
“She’s quit her job to come to work for you. Am I correct about that?”
“Yes. Today’s her last day at the store.”
“That complicates things even more.”
He nodded. Would she hold that against him? She’d quit her job. She’d risked her financial stability. Would she feel betrayed by his revelation? Would it end any chance he had of seeing if their friendship might become something more?
“Don’t waste time on what-ifs and if-onlys, Ben. They don’t change a thing.”
“I know, Grandpa. But it’s hard to tune them out sometimes.”
His grandfather draped an arm over Ben’s shoulders, and the two returned to silently watching the pair of swans.
* * *
It was after ten on Friday evening, Ashley’s last day of work in the store. She felt mixed emotions as she pushed open the door and exited the building for the last time as an employee. All day, coworkers had been telling her they were going to miss her. It had surprised her how much their words meant. After all, it wasn’t like she’d ever hung out with them. She wasn’t the type to go out for a beer after a shift ended, although she’d been invited plenty of times to join them, especially early on in her employment.
“Don’t be a stranger!” a woman named Maria called to her from several parking spaces away.
“I won’t.” Ashley waved, then unlocked her truck and slid onto the seat behind the wheel. But she didn’t start the engine right away. She took a moment to let her body relax.
It had been a rough week, as expected. Long hours at the store would be good for her checking account, but she’d fallen behind on life itself. Her dogs and horses had been fed and watered but not much else. Her sink had more than one meal’s worth of dirty dishes in it, waiting to be washed. She’d only spoken to her mom once, and that conversation hadn’t gone well. The strain of wondering about Dylan—where he was, how he was surviving—was wearing on them both. And whether or not she cared to admit it, she’d missed seeing Ben. She hadn’t even talked to him on the phone. Her own fault. She’d told him she was scheduled to work every day this week. In fact, when she’d told him goodbye last Saturday, she’d added, “See you on the fourteenth.” Why would he call when she’d sounded like she didn’t want him to?
“Did I want him to?” she asked into the silence of the cab.
Yes, she supposed she had wanted it. But it didn’t matter now. She would see him on Monday. That was the day she would settle into her new job as a barn manager. Barn manager. The two words sounded great together. She would work with horses every day—and get paid to do it. Her uniform would be jeans and boots. Life didn’t get much better than that. In fact, she should pinch herself to see if it was true. How’d she get this blessed?
“Thank You, God,” she said, recognizing that He was the reason for her blessings.
With a smile, she turned the key in the ignition and drove her truck out of the parking lot, headed for home and a good night’s sleep once her chores were done.
* * *
Pastor Trent opened the side door of the church before Ben reached it. “Thanks for coming. Sorry for calling you this time of night.”
“It’s all right. Sounded serious.”
Trent motioned with his head. “He’s in my office. Passed out.” He turned.
Ben followed him. “What happened?”
“I was working late and heard breaking glass. I found him trying to get into the coffee bar. Looking for money, I guess.”
“Did you call the police?”
“Not yet.”
“Should have been your first call.”
“I know.”
“Do you know who he is?”
“No. I’ve never seen him before. I hoped you could talk to him, perhaps learn his name and the reason for his circumstances.”
“Depends how drunk he is. It’s a waste of time to try to glean information if the alcohol is in control. He won’t understand what I say if he’s high.”
Trent opened the door to his office. The man in question—it was hard to tell his age from where Ben stood, especially given his unkempt appearance—lay on the leather sofa, baseball cap pulled low on his forehead, one foot on the floor, the other draped over the arm of the couch. He snored softly. Trent moved toward the sofa and nudged the man’s foot with the toe of his shoe. No response. “I suppose you’re right about calling the police.” He sat on a nearby chair. “I shouldn’t have bothered you at this time of night. I know you work with these men, and I thought . . . Well, I don’t know what I thought.”
“You’re a man of compassion who always wants to help others.” Ben took a different chair. “But sometimes the real kindness is to let the chips fall where they may. He broke into the church, Trent, and then he was trying to get to the cash registers in the coffee bar. That sounds like attempted robbery to me. I don’t believe letting him sleep it off on your couch is the best option.”
Trent sighed. “Neither do I.” He stood and went to the phone.
While the pastor made the call, Ben stared at the man on the sofa. He could see now that he was young. Early twenties, more than likely. A stupid young man much like Ben had been not all that long ago. Judging by the smell of him, he’d had no access to a shower stall or bath for a while. His cheeks seemed gaunt. Was he as hungry as he looked? Had he been choosing booze or drugs over food when he managed to get some money? Probably.
By the mercy of God, Ben had found his way out of that life. He could only pray that this young man would do the same.
“The police are on their way,” Trent said. “They asked if he had a weapon, but I didn’t know. I never saw one. I suppose if I had seen one, he wouldn’t be sleeping it off in my office right now.”
A groan from the direction of the sofa drew Trent’s and Ben’s gazes back to the intruder. The fellow rubbed his face, opened his bleary eyes, muttered a curse, then pushed himself upright. He looked like he wanted to bolt from the sofa but hadn’t the energy to do so.
“Don’t try it,” Ben said in a level voice. “I’m in better shape than you are. You’ll never make it to the door.”
He tried to glare at Ben, but his eyes couldn’t quite focus, making the look ineffective.
“My name’s Ben. What’s yours?”
The only reply was a string of curse words.
“I doubt that’s your name.”
There was a long silence, then, “Dylan.”
A knot formed in Ben’s gut. Was it possible? “Dylan what?” he forced himself to ask, dreading the answer.
“None of your business. That’s what.”
“Maybe not. But it will be the police’s business, and if I’m not mistaken, that’s them at the door right now.”
This time Dylan did push to his feet, but Ben stretched out his arm, causing him to fall back on the sofa. Before Dylan could right himself a second time, the police officers were entering Trent’s office. Ben moved out of the way to let the cops do their jobs. Dylan clammed up, saying only one thing when an officer asked him a question: “I want a lawyer.” After that he remained mute.
Ben knew he wouldn’t hear the kid’s last name after that. But he didn’t need to hear it. He knew. Despite the fellow’s disheveled, haggard appearance, Ben had seen a resemblance to Ashley. Something around the eyes and the cut of the jaw. This had to be Ashley’s brother—and Ben was going to have to tell her about Dylan’s arrest . . . and his own part in it.