Point Pleasant (13 page)

Ben kept silent and wondered if Kate had spilled his pseudonym too.

“What the hell did you write, Ben?
Twilight
?”

A laugh broke free from Ben’s lips before he could still the reaction. The lightened atmosphere elicited a smile from the sheriff, whose rigid posture loosened as he leaned against the cell door. “So who are you? Have I read you?”

“That would be telling.”

Nicholas hummed, and Ben was surprised when Nicholas moved on as if content to not push further. “We came to the agreement that if you pay a fine, you’re free to go. Provided you cease with your member-of-the-press line.”

“I’m not a suspect anymore?”

“You never were. Freemont hung himself. It’s pretty cut and dry.”

“What the hell was that interrogation about earlier?”

Nicholas shrugged with intentional precision. “Maybe I just wanted to see you in handcuffs.”

Ben gazed at the other man in disbelief. “That just brought a whole new level of meaning to ‘perverting the course of justice.’”

Nicholas gestured to the door. “You gonna pay the fine?”

“Yeah, I’ll pay,” Ben said. “Unbook me, Danno.”

Nicholas snorted and waved Ben out of the cell. As Ben moved to exit, Nicholas put a hand on Ben’s shoulder to halt him. “Let’s have that beer, though. Right now.”

“Aren’t you on duty, Officer?” Ben chided, and he peered down at Nicholas’ hand, which the sheriff promptly withdrew.

“I’m off as soon as I discharge you.”

The earnest intent in Nicholas’ eyes inspired Ben to consider the offer. “Yeah, okay. I could use a drink.”

Nicholas nodded knowingly and led Ben to the front of the station where he signed off on some already-completed paperwork while Ben took care of the fine with Sarah. She returned his coat, keys, wallet, and phone with an awkward smile.

Ben fisted his hands into the pockets of his coat as he walked out of the Sheriff’s Department. He raised an eyebrow at Nicholas when they stood in front of the square. “So… The Point?”

“I need to go home and change. Doesn’t look good to drink in uniform.”

“Appearances are important,” Ben said. He was suddenly unsure why he had agreed to the drink, regardless of whether or not it was needed.

“It’ll take five minutes, I’m just over on Dunmore.” As he spoke, Nicholas tilted his chin toward the street around the corner from the station. “Come on, then The Point.”

Nicholas turned, but Ben remained planted on the sidewalk like the base of one of the streetlights that lit up the night.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said, hating the way his voice wavered.

Nicholas gave Ben a warm, inviting smile. “Don’t be stupid. Let’s go.”

Ben took a deep breath and followed. Trepidation settled in his chest. He could say he had come to terms with Nicholas’ long-ago rejection, but he knew it was a lie, and he did not need to be party to his former friend’s domestic happiness.

The short walk to Nicholas’ house—a two-story Victorian with a well-manicured front lawn that would have made Andrew nod in approval—was not long enough for Ben to prepare himself for seeing Lily, and he focused on the crunch of dead leaves on the sidewalk under his shoes to steady himself.

Nicholas climbed the steps to the porch and unlocked the front door. He headed inside and flicked on the lights of the entry hall. “Come in.”

Ben entered, but he gave a short shake of his head when Nicholas closed the door. “I um—I don’t want to intrude.”

“On who?” Nicholas asked with a voice so full of confusion that Ben almost faltered.

“Lily, I guess,” Ben said. “And your kids, I suppose, if you have any.”

He wondered if confusion could be contagious because Nicholas’ sober reaction was bewildering.

“We never got married,” Nicholas said.

“You what?”

“I never got married. Not to Lily. Not to anyone.”

“Oh.” Ben tried not to look as stunned as he felt.

A curious expression crossed Nicholas’ face, and he gestured to a door on Ben’s left. “Wait in the living room, I’ll be right back.”

Ben furrowed his brow as he shuffled through the doorway.
Why didn’t he marry her?
Had Nicholas taken Ben’s plea to heart?
You’re fucking deluded, Benji.

As he glanced around, Ben felt gloomy. It was a lovely room in a lovely house, but it lacked
something
. The furniture was sparse. There was a leather sofa, a coffee table, and a mounted flat screen television. The room had the appearance of belonging to someone who had only recently moved in and had yet to make the house his own. The walls were barren, but the far end of the room was lined with floating shelves filled with various works. Ben wandered over and scanned the books to note familiar titles that made him smile. He owned a lot of them too.

His eyes settled on one that was jarringly recognizable:
The Blue Tulip
by Preston James. Its spine bore cracked wrinkles as evidence of it having been read at least once, possibly twice. Ben reached out and dragged his fingertips across the embossed lettering. He thought it strange to know that he had connected with Nicholas on some level in the last ten years even though neither one of them had realized.

Ben withdrew when he heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. He pocketed his offending hand just as Nicholas entered the room.

The sheriff was now wearing dark jeans and a tucked-in black button-down shirt. His gilded badge was clipped to his belt. Ben tried not to let his mind wander to anything inappropriate.

“Wide reader,” Ben observed as he gestured to a bookshelf in an effort to redirect his thoughts.

“I guess you could say that,” Nicholas said. “Any of them yours?”

“Nah,” Ben lied. “I’ve read a lot of them, though.”

“Oh yeah? Which one’s your favorite?”

“I don’t see any Vonnegut,” Ben said with reproof.

“Oh, he’s around somewhere. Do you like Cormac McCarthy? His style reminds me of you.”

“Southern and grotesque?”

Nicholas rolled his eyes. “I meant it as a compliment. The interest, I mean. The dark underside of everything.”

Ben smiled at that. “I appreciate McCarthy.
The Orchard Keeper
, especially.”

Nicholas pulled a book off the shelf. Ben kept his smile in place when he realized it was
The Blue Tulip
.

“Have you read this, though? By Preston James? He’s really good. Danny turned me onto him a few years ago. I’ve read this one twice. I think you’d like it.”

“Oh?” Ben said, taking the book when Nicholas offered it. Maybe Kate told Nicholas about Preston James after all. “What’s it about?”

“Well, it’s complicated. But there’s a girl, and the whole thing is told as memories of her. It’s all very disjointed at first and from different points in time, but the memories come together and, well, the end is upsetting but poignant, you know?”

Ben nodded. Of course he knew. “So I should read it?”

“I think you should,” Nicholas replied. “It’s one of the best books I’ve ever read. I think it’s my favorite if I had to choose one.”

Ben’s thoughts scattered like the celebratory rice he had once imagined as the herald of Nicholas’ marriage to Lily Conrad while unaware that the event had never taken place.

“I’ll read it, then,” he said, hoping he did not sound as stiff as he felt.

“Take my copy,” Nicholas said, but Ben shook his head.

“I—I’ll buy a copy. I don’t know how long I’m gonna be here. I don’t want to take off with your book,” Ben said, and he returned the copy of
The Blue Tulip
to its owner as he spoke.

“Right,” Nicholas said, frowning while he fumbled to return the book to the shelf.

“I need to wash the jail off my hands. Do you mind if I visit your bathroom? ” Ben asked, overcome by a sudden need to be alone.

“Yeah, of course,” Nicholas said. “Down the hall, on the left.”

Ben found the bathroom and flipped on the light switch before he shut the door behind him. He put his hands over his face and took a deep breath.

Fuck.

Either Kate had told Nicholas about Ben’s pseudonym and Nicholas was fucking with him, or Nicholas’ praise was genuine. The ease of the conversation led Ben to assume it was the latter.

He straightened and turned on the tap so that Nicholas could hear the sound of its running water if he was listening. When Ben looked up at the mirror over the basin, he blinked at the sting of tears that blurred his green irises.

Get a grip, Benji. Get a fucking grip.

Ben washed his hands and face and double-checked his reflection to ensure he had gotten rid of his teary,
I’m-a-fucking-basketcase!
eyes before he returned to the living room.

“Shall we go?”

“Yeah, let’s,” Nicholas said. He smiled, and Ben’s chest tightened.

Ben waited on the sidewalk in front of the house while Nicholas secured the front door. “It’s a really nice house,” he said. “You lived in it long?”

Nicholas put his hands into the pockets of his gray wool coat. “Yeah? I bought it last year. And you’re living in Boston?”

“Did Kate tell you that too?”

Nicholas fisted his hands deeper into his pockets as they walked. “You have a Massachusetts plate on your car. And you put your address on the paperwork earlier.”

Ben hummed in response.

“Have you been there this whole time?”

“For the most part.”

“Care to elaborate?”

Ben let out an awkward laugh. “Are you interrogating me again, Sheriff?”

“Not at all,” Nicholas said and came to an abrupt halt. Ben paused as well and watched as Nicholas’ shoulders slumped, which stood out prominently on his otherwise perfect posture. “You said before we aren’t friends anymore, and I get that. But I’d like to be. I’d like to know what my old friend has been doing with his life.” Nicholas seemed unsure of whether or not to go on, but he continued anyway. “I’d like to know why he left in the first place.”

Under the orange glow of a streetlight, Ben shifted uncomfortably and remained silent as he assessed Nicholas’ sincerity. “No reason to stay is usually a good reason to go, wouldn’t you say?”

Once more, Ben could have sworn that his words upset the other man.

“I reacted poorly,” Nicholas said.

“You reacted how you reacted,” Ben replied with a shrug. “Look, it really is ancient history.”

Nicholas’ expression shifted into one of wretchedness. “I came to see you,” he said. “A few days later.”

Ben blinked twice in surprise. “Did you?”

“I was going to yell at you,” Nicholas said, letting out a weak laugh. “For upsetting Lily. Your dad said you’d gone on a road trip. He told me you’d be back. I kept waiting for you to come back.”

“I guess I thought I would,” Ben replied. He took a breath and resumed their course.

Nicholas followed and slipped into a sullen silence as they approached The Point.

Emboldened by the promise of alcohol, Ben faced the sheriff. “Listen,” he started, “I
was
being a dick earlier. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for cuffing you,” Nicholas said. “That was unnecessary.”

“But arresting me wasn’t?” Ben asked with the same incredulous tone he had used earlier.

“You broke the law!”

“Oh, not really!”

“
Ben
.”

“
Nic
.”

They stared at one another for a long moment, each with his eyebrows raised high in a kind of exaggerated
are-you-kidding-me
expression, but Ben did not miss the way Nicholas’ eyes softened at Ben’s use of ‘Nic.’

“How about I buy you that beer?” Nicholas asked.

“You do that, Sheriff.”

The Point emanated the welcoming, divey warmth of most local watering holes. Axel Cook’s handlebar mustache had not changed and neither had his cheerful service.
When you don’t see the point, go to The Point.

Three beers apiece into their relaxed reunion, and Ben was snorting with laughter as Nicholas recounted how he
very
recently arrested a
very
drunk and
very
naked Josh Calloway for attempting to buy a carton of milk from Chapman’s.

“He took a swing at me and everything,” Nicholas said.

“What the hell even made you want to be a cop?” Ben asked.

“I figured I might as well make use of my criminology degree. Of course, there’s something appealing about the idea of ‘to protect and serve.’”

“Apparently.” Ben took a long drink of his beer. “Your dad must be proud.”

“Yeah,” Nicholas shrugged, but he did not elaborate.

Ben knew Nate Nolan probably had pride to spare for his son’s endeavors. Nicholas had followed his example, after all. Andrew Wisehart would have been delighted for his own son to do the same. Nicholas’ apparent intent to sidestep the father talk, most likely in light of what he had discovered from Kate during their phone call, was almost endearing.

“How is he?” Ben pressed. “And your mom?”

“Really good. Enjoying retirement together. They’re in Memphis visiting her sister for the week,” Nicholas replied. “They’re back on Tuesday. I hope you’re still here then. My mom would love to see you. She’s always asked Andy about you. And Kate, of course.”

Ben gave a slight nod and tried on an awkward smile.

Nicholas regarded Ben with a closeness that was both familiar and disconcerting. “What about you?” he asked as if he sensed the need to redirect the conversation. “I thought you hated writing.”

“I hated writing for the
Gazette.
Crop forecasts and high school football games. Come on,” Ben said and rolled his eyes for dramatic effect. “I don’t know, I just had a lot of thoughts in my head. It felt good to put them on paper. At some point I realized I had written a book. So I sent it off, and it got published.”

“Come on, what’s it called?”

“You wouldn’t believe me.”

Nicholas leaned forward, and Ben caught a trace of the other man’s mossy cologne again. “Go on, tell me. Is it romance?”

Ben grunted out an affronted laugh and tried to stifle the swell of longing that threatened to consume him. “Now I’m definitely not telling.”