Double Jeopardy (24 page)

“Uncle Ben, I gotta pee. It’s
urgent
.”

“Okay, Stanley. Look, Ms. Weaver, I’m gonna have to go.”

“Do you or do you not wish for me to represent you in this matter?”

“Uncle Ben, I really really
urgent
need to pee.”

“Yes, Stanley, we’re going home right now. Hold on, okay, sport?” What should he do? What decision should he make about this incredible debacle?

“Yes, Ms. Weaver, I do. I do want you to represent me.” With a sinking sensation in his gut, Ben disconnected the call and started the van.

It was past nine that evening by the time Judith got home. Ben, with immense gratitude and relief, turned over Stanley’s care to her.

He was exhausted; his godson had just gone to sleep ten minutes before. Stanley had thrown a major tantrum when he found out his ice cream had melted into a puddle on the long drive to the house. He’d also wet himself in the van, and it took some doing for Ben to convince the little boy that a bath was in order and it was time for pajamas.

“I want my mommy,” he’d insisted, bottom lip trembling. “I want my daddy. I want my ice cream.”

Ben could supply only one of those items. In desperation, he called a cab company and had the driver pick up a tub of chocolate ice cream, packed in ice, and deliver it. When it arrived, Ben mounded some onto a cone, a box of which he found in a kitchen cupboard, and Stanley was mollified. He ate it slowly, eyes almost closing between mouthfuls.

Ben tucked him into bed, read a favorite book about monsters twice through, and at last, thumb firmly plugged, the little boy slept. Ben wished he could crawl in beside him, close his eyes and erase the day.

After leaving the Brulottes’ house, Ben drove straight to St. Joe’s and made his way up to the maternity floor. He arrived just in time to congratulate Greg and Lily on the safe arrival of their tiny daughter.

“She’s perfect. Look at her.” Greg beamed. “Lungs are great. She did eight on the Apgar. Morgan says she’s like a full-term baby. And Lily’s fine. She went through it all like a trooper. We’re calling the baby Hannah, after Lily’s grandma. Here, take her.”

Greg plunked the blanket wrapped baby into Ben’s arms. The tiny girl’s blue eyes were wide open, and she was gazing around at the world. She had a full head of straight, dark hair, and she seemed to give Ben a quizzical look.

“Hello, little Hannah. Welcome to the world.” Ben grinned down at the baby, and for a magical moment the problems and concerns of the day disappeared in the miracle of birth.

On the drive home through the warm summer night, he thought of the baby Hannah, and Sera’s face appeared in his mind’s eye. Witnessing Greg and Lily’s happiness with each other and with their new daughter had made Ben lonely in a way he’d never been before. He thought about Sera coming to Vancouver, and how very much he wanted to see her.

And then, for some unknown reason, he thought of Vera and the baby they’d lost so many years before. Tears filled his eyes and overflowed, and he mopped at them with his wrist, embarrassed by this rush of powerful emotion.

Why did that memory come back to haunt him now? How could that ill-fated marriage still be causing him problems? But it was, in the form of Ryngard and his association with Vera’s uncle, Roderick Miller.

Ben realized that he’d never really apologized to Vera. He’d given her all the material possessions they’d amassed together; he’d willingly paid her alimony for five years; but he’d never said in so many words that he was sorry for what had happened to her.

He steered his truck across the Cambie Street Bridge. An apology wouldn’t make any difference to anything. What had happened was in the past. They were both different people by now; to dredge it all up again wasn’t logical.

But by the time he pulled into his parking slot of his apartment in Gastown he knew that, logical or not, apologizing to his ex-wife was something that he simply had to do. In some obscure fashion, making peace with Vera had everything to do with his feelings about Sera. He wasn’t clear how or why; he knew only it was necessary.

And if he was going to do it, he’d better get at it right away, before he lost his courage.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Ben worked the following day, grateful for a demanding surgery that absorbed all his time and attention in the morning. In the afternoon he had back-to-back patient appointments that left no opportunity to worry, or even to make personal phone calls.

He was aware that he hadn’t yet telephoned Sera and made a firm arrangement to see her when she was in Vancouver. He was putting it off, half afraid that she’d reconsidered and decided not to see him after all.

After work he drove home, fed Grendel and immediately dialed her number. Her cell phone wasn’t turned on, so he called the motel and left a message for her to phone him as soon as she got home.

He waited all evening, postponing Grendel’s walk. He called her twice more before eleven but was unable to make contact. It was almost one and he’d just gone to bed when the phone finally rang.

“Ben?” She was apologetic. “Forgive me for phoning so late. I just got in. We were shooting on location in a little town in the desert and the battery on my cell phone died. There was a note on my door, asking me to call you.”

“I’m glad you did.” He propped pillows behind his head, and Grendel, on the bed beside him, rumbled his annoyance. “How are you, Sera?”

“I’m okay.” But her voice was brittle. “Listen, Ben, I’ve been thinking. It’s probably best all round if I don’t see you this weekend.”

His body tensed. “Why’s that?”

She didn’t answer directly. “Did you know my dad’s already complained to someone at St. Joe’s?”

“Yeah, the guy talked to me. But that doesn’t have anything to do with you seeing me.” Was this panic roiling in his gut?

“It does, though.” He detected embarrassment in her tone. “I told Papa I thought he was wrong to do what he did. I told him I believed you, but no matter what I personally think, they’re still my family. If I go on seeing you, I’ll be caught in the middle of all this, and I don’t want to be.”

He heard her take in a quavering breath, but her voice was firm when she added, “Pasquale’s offered me a permanent job with his company. I’ll be based in L.A., and won’t be coming to Vancouver much. And it’s not as if there’s anything serious between us, Ben. We both agreed that our careers came first. You said in the beginning you weren’t interested in long term.”

He had said that, goddamn it. He always said that.

“What can I say to make you change your mind?”

“Nothing, Ben. I just think it’s time we ended it.”

He swung his legs to the floor, gripping the phone as if it were an enemy to be vanquished, and drew in a breath to argue with her. Then it dawned on him with a shock of recognition that she was using his tactics against him.

He’d done this countless times himself, reached the point where a relationship had to end, phoned and tried his best to be gracious and firm at the same time, struggled through the awkwardness and pain and prayed for the call to end quickly.

His pride came to his rescue. “If that’s your decision, I guess there’s nothing for me to do but accept it.” The words were like gall in his mouth.

“Thanks.” A heartbeat later she said softly, “Bye, Ben.” There might have been a sob in her voice, but maybe he was only imagining what he wanted to hear. The connection ended.

He swore, a long stream of profanity, and drove his fist into the mattress. Grendel yelped in protest and slunk off the bed.

Ben couldn’t lie down again. He couldn’t stay in the loft, either. He dragged on shorts and a shirt. “C’mon, boy. We’re going walking.”

Grendel bounded off the bed and found his leash, wagging his tail so hard his entire body shook. As Ben strode through the nearly deserted streets, he tried to tell himself that this was for the best. Eventually, he would have told Sera it was over. Better that it should end now, before they got into it any deeper, he reasoned.

His brain went on and on with logic, but with every step his heart seemed to grow heavier in his chest. Images of Sera flashed like silent movies through his mind. Grendel finally grew tired and started to lag, but Ben increased his pace, trying unsuccessfully to leave the pain and sense of loss behind.

The thing that became more and more clear with every step was his conviction that in order to go ahead he would have to go back. He just had to make his peace with Vera.

Friday morning, he had Dana cancel his afternoon appointments. As soon as his surgery was done, he drove to North Vancouver. He’d made inquiries; it wasn’t difficult to find the bakery where Vera worked. He pulled up in a spot across the street and parked. Instead of getting out immediately, he sat there, staring across at the striped awning, heart hammering as cravenly he hoped that maybe she wouldn’t be at work today.

Coming here had been hard. It was about the last thing he’d wanted to do, but something had driven him. At last he made his way across the street and into the small shop.

Two customers were buying bread and sausage rolls, and for an instant Ben didn’t realize the woman serving them was Vera. It wasn’t until she smiled at them and assured them the sausage rolls had been made that morning that Ben recognized her voice.

When they were married she’d been petite, bone slender, with long silvery blond straight hair that he’d loved to touch. Now she was heavy, and her hair had turned shiny white. It was short and tightly permed. Her face was still pretty, but the extra weight made her look older than she was. She wore a voluminous white apron over a cheerful yellow dress.

The customers left, and she turned to him with a professional smile that faded into shock when she recognized him.

“Hello, Vera.” He moved closer to the counter.

“Ben?’” Her face paled. She put her plump hands on the counter, as if to support herself. “Ben. What—what are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.” Would she order him out? Would she become hysterical? He hadn’t planned what to say, hadn’t gone further than just making this journey. His throat was dry. “I hoped we could talk, Vera.”

She stared at him for what seemed an eternity, her silvery gray eyes hard to read. At last she nodded. “Okay. I’ll get Lisa to watch the counter for me.” She disappeared through the door to the back. A young girl in jeans and a white T-shirt came out and began to cheerfully serve an old man and a young girl who’d walked in while Ben waited.

It felt like a long time before Vera reappeared. Her apron was gone and she’d obviously brushed her hair and applied fresh lipstick. A pair of red sunglasses perched in her curly hair. She led the way out the door to the street. “There’s a park at the end of the block. We can go there,” she suggested.

“Good.” Ben followed her along the sidewalk, desperately groping for something to say and coming up empty. “It’s a great day,” he finally blurted.

“We’re having good luck with the weather this summer,” she agreed. After that they walked along in silence.

The park overlooked the inlet. The sun glinted off the water, and Vera sat down on a wooden bench and tipped the glasses down onto her nose.

“Why the visit now, Ben? After all this time?”

Here it was; here was his opportunity. The words were easy, as if he’d been unconsciously rehearsing them for a long while. “I want to apologize to you, Vera. I want to tell you I’m truly sorry for the things that happened between us.” It was a huge relief to say it. “I wasn’t much of a husband to you.”

She smiled a little and shook her head. “Nope, you sure weren’t.” Her simple words confirmed what he already knew, yet he was surprised that she didn’t sound angry. Instead, she seemed resigned. He wished she’d take off her glasses so he could see the expression in her eyes. He had more to say to her, and it would be difficult. He took a breath and let it out.

“I’m sorry about the baby, too. I should have been more understanding. I should have valued it more, valued
you
more.” He struggled on. “I was ambitious. All I could think of was going to India, getting the training and experience I needed, getting on with my career. It was egotistical and selfish of me.”

“I certainly thought so at the time.” She turned her head away and gazed out at the ocean, her thoughts impossible to read. “I was about as unhappy as a person could get. But I didn’t realize at that stage that I had a form of mental illness. All I could do was be mad at you and sorry for myself.”