Page 120 of Every Good Thing
Ruthie hops closer. “It’s me! And you, Mommy. But where’s—”
“Ruthie,” Ben’s voice is sharp. He waves her over, and she quickly complies.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him leaning down to Ruthie’s level, talking, but I focus on the group. “It’s not right, Cherry. It’s missing Ben.”
Dot and Cherry stand like a united front, pulling me into their circle.
“I didn’t include Ben for a reason,” Cherry argues in a heated whisper. “You don’t want a logo that doesn’t fit anymore.”
“Cher has a point, Lena, babe,” Dot says. “This is about the future of Saddletree.”
Panic rises at the idea that this could be my future—a life here without him. It’s certainly my present. But he wants to talk. And he belongs here. With us. With me.
“I don’t care,” I say between labored breaths. “Saddletree is our story. His, mine, and Ruthie’s. I want him in the logo.”
Dot and Cherry give me a stare-down before Cherry shrugs. “Fine.”
She pulls out a second drawing, identical to the first, but with Ben beside me, his arm perched against the bark, leaning close like he’s telling me a joke.
It takes my breath away.
“This is the first one I did,” she explains, “but I wanted to see if you’d go for the revised version for your own sake.”
“That’s Saddletree,” I tell her, smiling through fresh tears.
I look for Ben over the gathered crowd as they wriggle in to see the other design. But he’s gone.
Ruthie bobbles over, sloshing her lemonade.
“Where’s Dad?”
“Had to go,” she says.
I circle to the front of the house, but it’s too late. His Jeep bumps quickly down the driveway. So much for talking later.
I end the meeting, and the group lazily disbands, offering muted encouragement and brief congrats on the changes, while I nod, smile, and secretly fall apart.
Alice leaves last, giving me a pointed look. “Hang in there, Lena. The world ain’t over until we see the zombies or feel the blast.”
I nod. “Might be soon.”
“Okay, well, find us in the basement… you know the door, right?”
“Yes, thanks, Alice. You’ve never steered me wrong.”
She smiles. “No, I haven’t. You remember that.” She squeezes my hand before leaving.
In the barn’s open doorway, I watch Ruthie play with dogs and try to bring my roller coaster emotions back into the station. My feelings aren’t my reality.
But it’s no use.
A dark, unthinkable reality strangles my leftover hope. The longer he’s away, the more I know my worst fear is coming true.
Ben’s not coming back.
Thirty-Seven
BEN
