Part 3: 

Kibbles came around the end of the porch and nudged Ben’s leg. He reached down and scratched his ears.

“He acts like he knows you, Ben. When you rode up this morning I thought you must be a neighbor or something. He usually stands in the yard and barks at strangers. Where did you meet up with Kibbles?”

“He came out of the path by woods up next to the tracks and ran around in circles until I began followin’ him.”

I told him about the storm last night and about Kibbles not being around. Ben said there was no storm where he was. I was beginning to feel stranger and stranger. 

“I watched your movie last night. Do you think that might have had anything to do with your being here?”

He stared at me for a moment. “I know they made a movie about me. I was in it. It was awfully cold that year. A lot of bad things happened in that movie. I’d hate for you to think it’s like that all the time.”

I looked at him, truly not knowing how to answer him. He was the movie…the movie was him…there is no other time…except for now. I turned my head around, looking out toward the barn. Maybe there was another dimension I wasn’t aware of? Maybe now I was in it?  My hands went to my temples. A headache was forming. I looked up at him, seeing the same confusion in his eyes. His arms went around me and held me close to him. Mine slid around his waist, feeling the warmth beneath his coat. He was as real as I was. 

I don’t know how long we stood there wrapped in each other, long enough for me to decide not to ask any more questions. He no more had the answers than I did. It was he that broke away. Lifting my chin and staring into my eyes, he kissed me softly and with a slight smile he backed away and stepped off the porch. My body wanted the warmth from his and protested when he left the porch. I reached for a wicker chair and sat down, watching that walk, those shoulders, as he made for the barn. I wrapped my arms around myself trying to keep that feeling from fading away.

I made myself get up and do something. The laundry flapping on the line caught my eye.  Back inside I set up the ironing board and ironed pillowcases and his shirt. All the stains had come out. It was a bit frayed along the cuffs but otherwise good as new. Finished with this, I put things away and made a pot of coffee.   

Ben came in through the back door and I jumped up. “Why are you so jittery?” he asked, drawing the words out.

“I don’t know,” I said and meant it. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“Yeah, it smells good.” He sat down at the table. I placed a plate of cookies there and brought him a mug.

“Did you make these?” he asked, biting into a cookie.

“No…Karen did before she left. She’s my sister-in-law.”

“Hmm, you said you’d left your husband. How long ago was that?”

“I’ve been here for about a month and a half. That’s how long. I’ve filed for divorce. That takes awhile even when you have grounds for it.”

“What kind of grounds?” he asked, catching my eye.

“Adultery. He’s a doctor…I was his nurse. He hired a lab tech. She turned out to be a little more than that. I caught them in the office. zIt wasn’t the first time, Ben, but it was the last time.”

“What will you do now? Stay here?”

“No, I want my own place and a chance at nursing again.” I looked up and caught that hard look in his eyes before they settled on me and softened. 

“You deserve that,” he said and picked up his mug.

“What kind of places do they have around here for nursin’?”

“I’d have to go into Lenoir. There’s a hospital there and medical facilities, lots of doctor’s offices. When I’m ready I’ll look for a place there.”

“What makes you ready, Susan?”  he asked softly.

“I’m waiting to see what kind of settlement I can get…from the divorce. I’ve got a little money but not enough to…well.” 

He smiled and took another cookie. “How far is this place…Lenoir?”

“Nineteen miles. I could drive it, I guess. In fact I should go ahead and put in my apps…applications…now.” I ran my hand through my hair. “I don’t know what I’m waiting for, I really don’t.” That wasn’t exactly true. I was hoping to wake up one day and the past six months would have not happened. I know it’s silly. I honestly do not want my husband back…not now that I know what I know about him. 

“What time is dinner?” he asked in that same soft voice. 

“Wha…dinner? Oh, not for a couple of hours but if you’re ready I could start it…” 

“I’m just asking so I’d know what kind of time we had.”

“Time…time for what?” I met his eyes across the table. He didn’t have to answer. I was glad I’d changed the sheets on my bed. 

Ben Wade was mine for a while, and I had him thoroughly. From the time our bodies lay on those sheets it was…lips seeking finding…tongues probing, tasting…hands touching, grasping…fingers probing, nails digging…arms holding, legs twining…bodies meeting, joining…pumping life into each other…until…the stars exploded…and fell into the sea…breathlessly holding, loving.

It was after nine o’clock when I slid the steaks under the broiler. We didn’t care, really, whether we ate or not. At least I didn’t, but I knew he needed more than a chicken salad for the day.

I will say that all my jumpiness was gone. I was languid. I felt soft and loved. I gave myself over to him. He was in control and I think he liked that. The night that followed was just as intense. I loved him…I still do. I also believe, as much as he can love anybody he loved me…I still feel it now.

I have no idea when the warmth of his body left my bed. I slept soundly after our lovemaking. I only know when sunlight streamed into my bedroom I was alone. I knew he was gone before I moved from the bed. Oh, yes, I cried and called out his name. I threw on my robe and ran down the steps out onto the porch. Kibbles was asleep in the sunlight and Juicy the cat was in the wicker chair. I ran out to the barn, now a faded red, and walked through it. There was no sign Ribbon had spent a day and night in the stall. I went down on my knees and wept.

After a shower and a cup of coffee I began to think I had dreamed the whole episode. The DVD and the storm…it hadn’t been real at all. There was nothing here to indicate Ben Wade had been in the house. I convinced myself it was only my overactive imagination. 

The next week I drove up to Lenoir and applied everywhere I could for a job. A few looked promising. I drove around the city just looking. It would be awhile before I could afford a house and that’s what I had decided I wanted. I found a neat little neighborhood with older houses and the one at the end of the street caught my eye. It was painted a faded blue with white trim, a little Victorian cottage with a wraparound porch. I got out and walked around the house, noticing the old overgrown rose bushes. There was a for sale sign in the yard and I copied down the phone number. Maybe I would call just to get an idea. I stopped at my car and looked back at the house again. I could imagine a white picket fence around the yard and hanging ferns across the porch.

It was two weeks before I got a call for an interview. Once I sat down in the chair and talked to the head of the unit, I knew I had the job. We just hit it off. I left there feeling good about the world. Deciding to drive by the little blue house before I left town, I almost cried when I saw a sold sign pasted across the front. Someone else had my idea, white picket fence already in place. All that was needed were the ferns. I consoled myself with the thought there would be another house…there would.

So you can imagine when I got home and went to the mailbox, finding the large envelope addressed to Susan Stephens-Wade that contained the deed to that little blue house at 144 Sycamore Street that I fainted. Kibbles brought me around licking my face. I rolled over in the front yard and looked again at the paper I held in my hand. Well, I thought it must be a mistake so went inside and called the realtor. It was no mistake. I sat down in the chair next to the phone and cried. How he had accomplished this I do not know. What could I think but that my ‘dream’ had some reality to it? 

My brother and family arrived from their vacation full of stories and loaded with souvenirs and pictures. I spent a week listening to their tales. I never said a word about my own or how I had managed to purchase the little house in Lenoir.

Two months went by and I was moved into the house and working. I was happy in my new surroundings and with my job. I had been for some time passing off morning sickness as anything but. My supervisor, however, was a little more astute and asked me one day how far along I was with my pregnancy. I thought I was going to faint again and she helped me to a chair, pushing my head between my knees. 

I was tested and it came back positive. I was nearly three months pregnant. How could I not have realized what was wrong with me? I lay that night curled in my bed holding my stomach and loving my child, for I knew then for certain Ben Wade had been no dream but a reality. 

My lawyers handled my divorce in Virginia and I never had to appear in court, which was a good thing considering I was eight months pregnant by the time it was finalized. Of course my brother and sister in law thought it was my former husband’s child. I let them think that. They wouldn’t have believed me if I’d told them who the father really was. 

He has his father’s eyes, my little Benjy. I wonder sometimes if he can see him. I feel him so close at times.