explanation.
In the past he would have accepted the lies, because it was easier, but he’d reached the end of his rope. Loving her and forgiving her had worn him down, the cycle unending despite all the promises that she would change, that she would be faithful. He’d been foolish enough to believe them at first. He had loved her unconditionally and for a time had thought that accepting her flaws was a part of that.
Then he’d realized that what he felt wasn’t love, but an obsessive need not to lose someone important again. He’d seen the truth with blinding clarity that afternoon. He’d realized finally that he’d never really had her anyway.
On that fateful night he’d told her to get out and he’d meant it. Her hold on him had finally snapped.
“You’ll change your mind,” she’d said confidently, slurring her words, her expression smug, beautiful even in her drunken state.
“Not this time,” he’d told her coldly. “It’s over, Graciela. I’ve had enough.”
If that had been it, he could have moved on with his life, buried the repeated humiliations in the past and kept his heart hopeful that someone else would come along. But Graciela hadn’t even made it out to the main highway when she’d crashed. He’d heard that awful sound and run outside, only to find the mangled wreckage, her body broken and bloody and trapped inside as the first flames had licked toward the gasoline spilling across the drive.
Frantic, he’d tried to drag her to safety, knowing even as he struggled that it was too late, that nothing he could do would save her.
From that moment on, as the car exploded into a fiery inferno, Ben had shut down emotionally. It had stirred the images that had haunted him from childhood of his parents’ plane going down into the side of a mountain on a foggy night. He’d been so young back then that he’d barely understood what had happened. Everyone was careful to tiptoe around the details of that crash, so he’d filled in the blanks for himself, envisioning the kind of unbearable horrors that only a child with an active imagination could spin.
Now he shuddered and tried to push from his mind all of those memories, forever intertwined even though they’d occurred years apart.
“There’s a huge difference between being alone and being lonely,” he pointed out quietly. “No one should recognize that better than you. I don’t see you trying to snag a husband now that your nest is empty, Destiny.”
She frowned at the challenge. “It doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to have companionship if the right man came along.”
“There,” he said triumphantly. “The right man, and nothing less.”
“Well, of course.” She gave him a sad smile. “I had that extraordinary experience once. I know what it’s like. I won’t accept anything less.”
“Neither will I.”
“But you won’t find it, if you don’t get out and look,” she scolded.
“So you’ve decided to bring the likely candidate to my doorstep?”
She shrugged. “Sue me.” Then she gave him a sly look. “It worked, didn’t it? You’re intrigued by Kathleen. I saw it in your eyes. You were watching her.”
“Maybe I’d just like to paint her,” he said, unwilling to admit to any more. Kathleen had been right, if Destiny knew about that kiss, he’d never hear the end of it. Who knew what she might do to capitalize on the impact of that kiss? Throwing them together at every opportunity would be the least of it.
Destiny chuckled. “You don’t do portraits. If you are genuinely interested in painting her, I find that very telling, don’t you?”
He refused to give her an inch. She would seize it and run with it for a mile. “Not particularly.”
“Look at your choice of subjects, Benjamin,” she said impatiently. “You’re more comfortable with nature than you are with people. Ever since you lost your parents, you don’t trust yourself to truly connect with anyone, much less to fall in love. Even Graciela was safe, because she was incapable of real love. You knew that from the start, and it suited you. You’re afraid we’ll all leave you.”
“I fell in love with Graciela,” he insisted.
“I don’t believe that for a minute, but let’s say it’s true. In the end, she only reinforced the pain,” Destiny said.
They’d been through this before. Ben had copped to it, so he saw no need to belabor the point. “Yes,” he said tersely.
“I haven’t left. Richard and Mack haven’t left. And you’re beginning to let yourself care for their wives, too. They’re here for the long haul. I’ll wager that you’ll lose your heart to the children when they come along, as well.”
“More than likely,” he agreed. Each time he felt Melanie’s baby kick, it set off an odd tug of longing inside him. He envied his brother the joy that awaited him, no question about it.
“Then why not open yourself to the possibility that there might be someone special out there for you as well?”
“I don’t need anyone,” he declared flatly.
“We all need someone. If I haven’t taught you that, then I’ve failed you miserably.”
“You don’t seem to need anyone.”
“But I have memories,” she said sadly. “Wonderful memories.”
“And those keep you warm at night?”
“They bring me peace,” she said. “Life is for living, darling. Never forget that.”
“Unless fate steps in,” he said. “Tricky thing, fate. You never quite know when it’s going to bite you in the butt.”
She sighed, her expression suddenly nostalgic. “No, you don’t, do you?”
Ben seized on the rare hint of melancholy in her voice. “You’re thinking about what you gave up to come and take care of us, aren’t you?” he said.
“You say that as if I have regrets. It wasn’t a sacrifice,” she insisted, just as she had on so many past occasions. “I did what I had to do. You boys have brought nothing but joy into my life.”
“But nothing to equal the man you left behind,” he pressed, wishing for once she would share that part of her life. If he had his hang-ups, they were nothing next to the secrets that Destiny clung to and kept hidden from them.
“Water under the bridge,” she insisted. “I have no regrets, and that’s the point. People move forward, take risks, let people in. Holing up and protecting your heart doesn’t keep you safe. It keeps you lonely.” She gave him one of her trademark penetrating, steady looks. “I could give you Kathleen’s phone number, if you like.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t had it tattooed to my hand while I slept.”
“Tattoos are too tacky,” she teased. “Besides, if I happen to be wrong just this once, I’d hate for you to have to explain it away the rest of your life.”
Ben grinned despite his exasperation. “I love you, you know that, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she said, her expression totally serene. “And in the end you’ll do what I expect. You always do.”
Sadly, she had that right. He could call Kathleen Dugan in the morning or he could hold out against the inevitable. In the end, though, he would see her again. Kiss her again.
He just wanted to make sure it was on his own terms.
By noon on Friday, Kathleen’s gallery was packed with customers who’d read a review of Boris’s