Only By Your Touch (18 page)

“Oh,
yes.
”

Chloe could have stayed forever. The animals cavorted in the water, as agile as seals. The babies, still inexperienced at slapping their tails, seemed to be practicing the technique. Occasionally the mother demonstrated how to do it properly, sending up an impressive spray of water.

“That’s their danger signal,” Ben explained to Jeremy. “The mama beaver teaches them how when they’re very young. It’s important to their survival.”

“Wow.” Jeremy looked at Chloe. “Isn’t this cool, Mom?”

Ben glanced at his watch. “I guess it’s about time to head back if you’re going to make it to work on time.”

“Oh, darn,” Jeremy said, his voice ringing with regret. “I don’t wanna go.”

“We’ll come again,” Ben promised. “Fun’s over for today, though. Your mom will get in trouble if she’s late to work.”

“When can we come back?” Jeremy pressed.

Chloe expected Ben to put Jeremy off with a vague
reply. Instead he said, “Tomorrow, if you like. I can always squeeze in a half hour to watch the wildlife.”

As they followed Ben back through the woods, Chloe studied him with a new understanding of who and what he was: not a mere wilderness expert, but as much a part of this rugged country as the animals that lived here.

When they came upon a rocky area, he grasped Chloe’s arm, took Jeremy’s hand, and guided them to a hollow under a boulder. “Shh,” he said as they approached. “No talking at all, Jeremy. Okay?”

The child nodded. And he kept to the rule, even after Ben gently lifted the end of a large rock to reveal a nest of baby chipmunks. They looked like newborn mice, their tiny pink bodies squirming in the soft, billowy collection of nesting material.

After allowing Jeremy to look his fill, Ben carefully returned the rock to its original position. As he straightened, Chloe yearned to ask how he had discovered the newborns. But, like Jeremy, she observed the rule of silence. At her questioning look, he smiled and grasped her arm again, this time more lightly, his fingertips trailing like whispers over the sensitive underside of her arm. The sensation made her nerves thrum, and something low in her belly thrilled in response. For just an instant, she tried to imagine how it might feel to have him touch her that way everywhere.

When she realized what she was thinking, a strong urge to escape crashed over her. She didn’t want to feel this way—couldn’t allow herself to feel this way. It was dangerous. She’d loved once—and trusted once. The very thought of making herself vulnerable like that again filled her with panic, an awful, clawing panic. Roger had been her prince, and then he’d become her jailor. Even though she knew it hadn’t been his fault, there was a part of her that couldn’t trust so
easily again—a part of her that recoiled from any kind of physical closeness.

As though he sensed her need to escape, Ben stilled his hand, his palm and fingers radiating warmth into her flesh that spread in pulsing tingles to her shoulder and then into her torso. At the first shock, Chloe threw him a startled look, but before she could analyze the sensations rolling through her, she lost her ability to focus. The fear flowed from her like water from a sieve, and a delicious languor replaced it, making all her muscles relax. She felt like a wax candle going soft in a spill of sunlight, and she found herself leaning toward him.

He didn’t immediately release her as he led them away from the rocks. When he finally did turn loose, she felt oddly bereft. He fell into a walk with Jeremy at his heels. Chloe trailed several paces behind them.

“Those baby chipmunks were born much too late,” he said over his shoulder. “Usually they come before the snow melts. When they’re a bit older, I’ll bring nuts and corn for them to horde for winter. If left to their own devices at so young an age, they’ll never make it till next spring.”

“Are late births common?” Chloe rubbed her arms, still feeling oddly euphoric. She’d never tried any recreational drugs, but she imagined this was how they’d make her feel—light as air and absurdly happy. She couldn’t remember now why the touch of Ben’s hand on her arm had upset her. It was the oddest thing. “I thought Mother Nature orchestrated things more precisely.”

“Percentage-wise, it’s not common,” he replied, “but it does happen every year. Somehow the natural cycle gets bumped off course, the young are born too late, and they die when winter comes.”

Not for the first time, he stopped and lifted his face
to the breeze. Chloe couldn’t shake the feeling that he was picking up scents on the wind that she couldn’t detect. Sometimes he got a distant look in his eyes that made her wonder if he was even aware of them beside him. He had described his grandfather as a deep and soulful man. Watching Ben now, Chloe wondered if he realized that he had also been describing himself.

“It’ll rain tonight. That will be good. The forest can use the moisture.”

Chloe studied the clear sky. “What makes you think it’ll rain? I don’t see any clouds blowing in.”

“Can’t you smell it in the air?”

Chloe couldn’t, but she had no doubt that he could.

As they continued the return trek to the ridge, she noticed Jeremy mimicking Ben’s every move. Where the man stepped, the child stepped. When Ben stopped to sniff the air, Jeremy tipped his head back, too. Chloe could understand her son’s enthrallment. Ben Longtree was everything most little boys yearned to become—big and strong and fearless.

“Which way is north?” he asked Jeremy about halfway down the incline. When the child couldn’t say, he showed him how the moss grew on the north side of the trees. “Which way is water?” he asked another time. When Jeremy frowned, Ben said, “Always head downhill if you’re lost and thirsty. Eventually you’ll find water if you don’t come to a road first. Either way, you’ll eventually get a drink.” A few minutes later, he began pointing to dry deadfall that would easily ignite. “Sometime soon, I’ll show you how to make a fire without matches,” he promised. “You can also use that deadfall to build a temporary shelter. If you ever get stranded in the woods, build a windbreak and roof with limbs, then gather pine needles to make
a bed. In a pinch, they’re nearly as good as a blanket. Just pile them in a heap and burrow in for the night, like our brother the bear.”

“The bear’s not my brother!” Jeremy exclaimed with a giggle.

“Sure he is.” With a sweep of his arm, Ben indicated the forest. “You’re related to everything, even the trees and grass. The Shoshones always understood that. Scientists are proving now that they were absolutely right. Everything’s made from the same tiny particles.”

Jeremy’s eyes went wide. “Everything?”

“God just put the particles together differently to create bears and trees and other things in our world. We aren’t alike on the outside, and yet, essentially, we’re the same. I am in you, and you are in me, and we are in the animals and the trees. Someday, I hope all of mankind will come full circle back to the basic truths that Jesus tried to teach and the Shoshones knew without ever having met Him—that we’re all one with each other, millions of tiny pieces in a huge jigsaw puzzle. If we destroy just one of the pieces, we risk destroying it all.”

“Is that how come you don’t eat animals, ’cause you think they’re your brothers and sisters?”

Ben chuckled. “Vegetarianism is a personal choice. As long as there are supermarkets and I can fill my cupboards with other good foods that keep me healthy and fit, I prefer not to eat animals, that’s all.”

“What if all the stores closed?”

Ben laughed again. “Well, in that case, I would hunt as my forefathers did. And, following their example, I would say thanks to the animal’s spirit for giving its life to sustain me. First, though, I think I’d try my hand at gardening.”

Ben suddenly dropped to a crouch. Gathering Jeremy close to his side, he pointed to some brush just ahead of them. “Look,” he said softly.

A tiny fawn, almost invisible against a backdrop of multicolored leaves, stood stock-still, staring at them. Chloe hadn’t noticed the fawn until Ben pointed it out, but she couldn’t shake the feeling he’d known it was there all along.

The child gazed raptly at the fawn. He’d seen pictures of baby deer, and so had Chloe, but nothing compared to actually coming upon one in the forest. The small animal was exquisitely formed. Its huge brown eyes reminded Chloe of Jeremy’s. Oddly, the little guy didn’t seem frightened. Chloe decided that fear of humans might be a learned behavior.

Ben made a shrill bleating sound. Chloe stared at his throat, watching the tendons work in a strange undulation to produce the noise. She was incredulous when the fawn took a faltering step forward. The baby deer seemed far more worried about Chloe than he was about Ben and Jeremy. She held her breath and stood absolutely still. One hesitant step after another, the fawn kept coming.

When the baby finally reached them, Ben reached out a big hand and caressed its fragile body.

“You can pet him if you like, Jeremy.”

“Won’t he be scared?” Jeremy whispered.

“Has he reason to be?”

Jeremy shook his head.

“Well, then, I don’t think he will be.”

Jeremy thrust out a hand to touch the fawn’s forehead. “Hi, baby deer.”

The fawn smelled Jeremy’s hand. And then, to both Chloe’s and her son’s surprise, the youngster caught one of the child’s fingers in his mouth and began to suckle. Jeremy giggled. “He thinks I’m his mom.”

“No. He understands who his mama is. She has left him for a bit, probably to forage for food. He’s supposed to stay hidden while she’s gone, but he knows me and isn’t afraid, so he’s breaking the rules.”

“Will his mom be mad?”

“No. She knows me, too. She comes to the house a lot to eat cracked corn. He understands that it’s okay to break the rules with me.”

The fawn grabbed another of Jeremy’s small fingers.

“He’s getting your taste and scent.” Ben nudged the child forward. “If you give him your breath, he’ll always remember you.”

“How can I give him my breath?”

“Just breathe into his nostrils.”

“But my mom says animals got germs.”

“They do, and so do we. His won’t make you sick. Share your breath with him. When he’s an antlered buck, he’ll remember, and he won’t be afraid if he sees you in the woods.”

Jeremy scrunched up his face, bent forward, and pressed his pursed lips to the fawn’s nose.

“Breath out. Open your mouth.” Ben kept a hand on the child’s shoulder. “Let him taste you.”

“His tongue’s scratchy,” Jeremy exclaimed with a giggle when the fawn licked him on the mouth. “I’m gonna ’member his taste for always,” he said a moment later, scrubbing hard at his lips with the back of his hand.

“And he’ll remember yours.” Ben cupped the child’s chin in his hand and made eye contact. “You’ve made a sacred promise to him, Jeremy. Do you understand what sacred means?”

“Like in church?”

Ben nodded. “Exactly, only this is a church without walls, and God, no matter what name you call Him by, is the Father of all that you see. You’ve made a
promise to the fawn that you’ll always be his friend. He trusts you now. If you break that trust, it will be a very bad thing.”

“I won’t break it.”

Jeremy no sooner finished speaking than the fawn butted him. It was only in play, but the child was knocked clear off his feet. Rump planted in the dirt, arms braced behind him, he looked indignantly at the baby deer and said, “That wasn’t nice.”

Ben laughed and helped the child stand up. While brushing off the seat of Jeremy’s pants, he said, “Young deer play with each other that way. He doesn’t understand that you’re a boy and don’t know how to tussle with him.”

“If we see each other in the woods when he’s big, will he do that again?”

Ben gave the child’s pants a final swat. “Nah. He’ll grow up and become full of himself.” He sent Chloe a warm look. “Some of us forget how to play when we grow older, and more’s the pity.” He stroked the fawn again. “When he gets horns, be careful of them. Sometimes they swing their heads at a fly or something and hit you accidentally. You don’t want a prong in your belly.”

“I’ll be real careful. Is he really gonna be my friend from now on?”

“For always,” Ben assured him solemnly.

It was an impossible promise. Rationally Chloe knew that. Yet watching Ben’s dark face as he said the words, she could almost believe they were true.

They walked in silence for a while after leaving the fawn. Then, out of the blue, Jeremy asked, “Did God make those baby chipmunks, Ben?”

“He did.”

“Are all of them my brothers and sisters, too?”

“They are,” Ben said in that same oddly quiet way.
“And if you remember that when you become a man, Jeremy, you will be extraordinary.”

“What’s
’strordinary
mean?”

Ben thought for a moment. “It means you may have to walk through life alone, that few will come behind you and only a very special, rare person will choose to walk beside you.”

“Won’t that be lonesome?”

Ben flicked Chloe a searching look. “Sometimes, yes. But if you know you’re walking the right way, you grow to accept the loneliness.”

T
hat evening, Bobby Lee stopped in to do his paperwork only minutes after Sue left to go buy the nightly lattes. When Chloe glanced up and saw the deputy entering by the front door, she moved her pencil holder to the far end of her desk. It wasn’t nearly as precious to her as the lantern had been, but it was a gift from her sister Phoebe, and she always smiled when she read the message.
I
’
VE WORKED HARD FOR THIS NERVOUS BREAKDOWN
.
BACK OFF AND LET ME ENJOY IT
.

Bobby Lee’s uniform shirt was wet with rain. He tugged at his collar. “If you don’t like Oregon weather, be patient and it’ll change.” He wiped his boots on the mat. “June, and it’s pouring. Can you believe it?”

Chloe leaned around to peer out a window. Sure enough, rain sluiced over the glass. She remembered Ben’s prediction and said, “Who would have thought it? The sky was clear as a bell this afternoon.”

Chloe resumed her work, hoping Bobby Lee would take the hint and go straight to his office. No such luck. After clearing a space, he propped a hip on her desk. Chloe ignored his presence.

“Hi,” he said when she didn’t look up.

Chloe sighed and abandoned her work, wondering as she did if his timing was a coincidence or if he’d been waiting for Sue to leave so he could catch her alone. She leaned toward the latter theory, which made her uneasy.

“What’s up?” she asked

“Only this.” He thrust a rain-spattered white bag with gold lettering into her hands. “It was the least I could do.”

Chloe recognized the name of a classy little curio shop over on Sunrise Loop that catered to tourists. “What on earth is this?”

Bobby Lee swept off his sand-colored Stetson and raked his fingers through his black hair. “Open it and see for yourself.”

Bemused, Chloe sat back in her chair with the package on her lap. “I know it may sound hopelessly old-fashioned, Bobby Lee, but I don’t accept gifts from men outside my family.”

“It’s not a gift. More a peace offering.” He hooked his hat over his knee. “I felt so bad about breaking your lantern that I went shopping to find you a replacement. It’s a lighter shade of blue but the same size. I know it can’t replace the one your dad gave you, but I bought it anyway.” He waited a beat. When she still didn’t open the sack, he said, “Hey, come on. It’s not a gift. When you break something that belongs to someone else, it’s customary to replace it.”

He had a point, and normally, Chloe wouldn’t have felt hesitant. She just didn’t want to get herself into a sticky situation with a male coworker, and she’d sensed from the beginning that it would be easy to do with this man.

Setting aside her reservations, she lifted the fancy white box from the bag. When she tugged up the lid, she saw a tissue-wrapped Japanese lantern nestled
inside. It was almost identical to the one Bobby Lee had broken, and she knew he must have searched several stores before he found it.

As she lifted the sphere carefully from the box, she felt like a worm. She’d been so certain that he had broken her other lantern on purpose. This was inarguable proof that she had been wrong. Genuine Japanese lanterns were a rarity these days, and the scarred surface of the sun-tinted glass told her this was the real McCoy. “Oh, Bobby Lee, I don’t know what to say. You really shouldn’t have. This must have cost you an arm and a leg.”

“Nah, only an arm. And it’ll be worth every penny if it convinces you to take my name off your shit list.”

She gave a startled laugh. “You aren’t on my shit list. I was upset about the lantern, I admit. It was very special to me. But I knew it was an accident.”
Liar
. “I’m sorry if I led you to think otherwise.”

“I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have been fiddling with it.” He watched her hold the lantern up to the light. “It’s not a reproduction. They said it wasn’t, anyway, and charged accordingly. Even so, I know it’s not the same.”

Chloe set the new lantern on her blotter. “Nothing can replace the one my dad gave me, but it means a lot to me that you went to the trouble and expense to buy me another one. It was very sweet of you.”

“Sweet enough to warrant your going out to dinner with me?” He held up a hand. “Before you say no, hear me out. I don’t mean a date, just a nice meal between friends. I got off on the wrong foot with you. I’d like a chance to set things right. We are coworkers, and we’ll be seeing a lot of each other. It seems to me it’ll be better, all around, if neither of us bears the other any animosity.”

He reminded her oddly of Jeremy in that moment,
his eyes open and honest, his expression imploring. For a fleeting instant, she remembered what Ben’s grandfather had said.
If you see no heart, run.
Could she see Bobby Lee’s heart in his eyes?

Chloe wasn’t sure. He looked sincere, yet there was something—something she couldn’t name—that made her uneasy. Of course, to be fair, most men made her uneasy these days. Maybe she needed counseling.

She wadded up the sack and tossed it in the trash. “No one can have too many friends, Bobby Lee. It’s just—well, you gave me the distinct impression you were—”

“Looking for more?” He shrugged. “When you first came to work here, I was. I won’t lie about it. You’re a pretty lady.”

“My mirror contradicts you, but thank you for the compliment.”

He rubbed his jaw. “I realize now that you aren’t interested in me that way, so you can stop looking wary. We can still be friends, can’t we?”

She rocked back in her chair again. “Of course. I’d like nothing more.”

“Well, then? Let me start over with a clean slate.”

Chloe had never been one to hold a grudge. “It’s really not necessary to take me to dinner, Bobby Lee. We can start over fresh by mutual agreement.”

“I want to buy you dinner, all right? The High Desert Inn is a family restaurant. What better way is there to clear the air and really get acquainted than over a nice meal?” When she hesitated, he rushed to add, “Come on. Be a sport and say yes. It’ll give me a chance to prove I’m not such a bad guy.”

“I’d love to say yes, but I hate being gone from home on my nights off.”

“We’ll make it an early evening. I’ll have you back in time to tuck Jeremy in, I promise.”

She ran a hand over the lantern. “You’re making it very difficult to say no.”

“Then don’t. Dinner out with a coworker. What harm can it do?”

“None, I suppose.” She relented with a nod. “All right. Sure. Why not?”

He flashed a relieved grin. “Great. How’s Friday night at six sound?”

“Six will be fine. I can feed Jeremy and do the dishes before I leave.”

He pushed up from her desk. “Friday at six, then. I’ll look forward to it.” He settled his Stetson back on his head. “You won’t regret it, Chloe. I promise.”

She sincerely hoped not.

Over the next five days, Ben was always at the house when Chloe and Jeremy arrived to clean cages and feed the animals, and the routine established that first day became a pattern. Each morning, he insisted that Chloe join him on the deck for a cup of coffee before she started work. Their conversations had an overall tone of lightness that made her relax and laugh but also gave her something to think about later.

Ben had a way of slipping profound observations into an exchange, taking her off guard and sucking her in before she realized the communication had turned serious. “Do you know why most plants are green?”

“Photosynthesis.”

“Ah, but why so many shades of green? My grandfather believed it was God’s favorite color. That was easy for me to buy. Then I went to college and discovered it was actually all about the fibrous composition of different plants and the spectrums of light different plant structures absorb and reflect. In books, there’s a fact to explain every mystical thing my grandfather ever taught me.”

He sounded so sad. Chloe stared into her coffee, trying to imagine him at nineteen and twenty, with his nose in biology books. He was so rugged and elemental that the image wouldn’t gel. “Just because the books proved him wrong doesn’t mean he was any less beautiful as a person.”

“For a long time, I became convinced he was just an ignorant old man who had concocted a story to explain every damned thing. I felt betrayed—and angry, which compelled me to learn all that I could so I’d never be stupid and ignorant like he was. That makes me feel ashamed now.” He gave his coffee a slow swirl. “I lost touch with the truths he taught me, began to scorn them. I had to come home and walk through my woods again before I came full circle. Green
is
God’s favorite color. We’ve only to look at the plant life to know that. He masterminded photosynthesis and created different plants to absorb different wavelengths and light spectra. My grandfather was right all along. God painted the world green.

“Everything is linked, the sun to the plants, the plants to the earth, and the earth to all its inhabitants. Nature is a complex dance with countless partners. Without opening a book, my grandfather understood the magical choreography of it all and stripped it down to simple truths. In our arrogance, we give fancy explanations for everything when a simple one would do just as well.” He winked at her. “The plants are different shades of green because God painted them that way with a divine brush.”

“Of course. Why make it complicated? Simplicity is much more beautiful.”

“Exactly,” he murmured. “Why make it complicated, Chloe?”

The questioning note in his husky voice made Chloe’s nerves jangle. She understood the unspoken
invitation—to simply let go and allow her feelings to take over. They were strongly attracted to each other, yet she was balking, letting concerns that had nothing to do with him spoil something that could be beautiful.
Problem
. Until Ben opened up to her, how could she let down her guard with him? She still didn’t even know what he did for a living.

Another morning, right after they took their usual positions on the deck, Ben pointed to the patches of earth visible in the distance between the expanses of trees. “Do you know why the soil here is red?”

Chloe smiled. “Because red is God’s second favorite color?”

He shook his head. “The Shoshone died fighting for this land, and they stained the earth red with their blood. Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust, they became part of it again.” He turned an ear to the woods. “If you listen closely, you can hear their voices riding on the wind.” He flashed a quick grin. “Sometimes the breeze catches the dust just right and funnels it toward the sky. When that happened, my grandfather always stopped what he was doing, lifted his arms in prayer, and wished his ancestors a safe journey. He believed lingering souls were being lifted by angels into the Great Beyond.”

“How lovely.” Chloe stared into the distance. “I’ll never look at the red earth here again without thinking of him—and all those who went before him.”

“Neither will I,” he said softly.

Each afternoon, Ben helped Chloe change animals’ bedding so she and Jeremy could accompany him into the woods. During those walks, Chloe watched as her son was slowly transformed from a troubled little boy who was withdrawn around strangers, especially men, into an outgoing child with a sturdy, tan body and a healthy glow. Sometimes the things Jeremy revealed
to Ben embarrassed Chloe, but she held her tongue. Ben was like a balm to her child’s battered heart. She saw it in Jeremy’s expressions and heard it in his words. Ben was making Jeremy believe in magic and miracles again, possibly because the man himself believed in them so deeply.

By the third day, Chloe realized she would not be surprised by anything that happened when they were with Ben Longtree. His world was intricately layered, rich with mysteries another person might never see. On the surface, his woods looked like any other, just a bunch of trees and brush. And then Ben would reveal something incredibly beautiful.

Jeremy loved the walks and absorbed information like a sponge. On one such trek, he saw a monarch butterfly hovering over a bush and asked Ben where butterflies came from. After a good deal of searching, Ben parted the foliage of a manzanita bush to reveal the dangling remains of a chrysalis.

“That’s where butterflies come from,” he explained, touching the fragile shell with his fingertip as he explained the metamorphosis from caterpillar to pupa and then to butterfly. “When I was about your age, my grandfather found one of these, and we watched it every day until the butterfly finally came out.”

“You got to see it?”

“Actually, no, but there was a butterfly flitting around when we found it empty, and my grandfather believed that it had come out of its chrysalis just before we got there. He was dying at the time, and I was very young. I think he was trying to prepare me for that final good-bye. He’d been trying to teach me the difference between our bodies and our souls. You know what a soul is, don’t you?”

“The part of us that goes to heaven?”

“That’s right. It’s the beautiful part of us that no one
can see. It’s how we think, and how we feel. More important, though, it’s how we make other people think and feel when we’re with them. When we die, they bury our bodies, but our souls aren’t inside us anymore. They’ve flown away, just like a beautiful butterfly from its chrysalis.”