Instant Family. Donna Gartshore
flared in Frankie and she stepped forward.
“These gentlemen happen to be very good friends of mine,” she declared. “And I can assure you that he’s about the furthest thing from crazy that you could ever want! Perhaps you need to work on how you approach your visitors so that you don’t offend them.”
She looked at Ben, whose befuddled expression would have made her giggle under different circumstances. Obviously, nothing in their brief acquaintance would have prepared him for the declaration that they were close friends. Fortunately, the volunteer’s focus wasn’t on him at the moment.
“Let’s go,” Frankie said to Ben and his father, who clung to his son’s hand and studied his feet. “Come on, Rae, we’re going back to the cabins.”
Rae chewed her lip, a sign that she was very puzzled. But she took her mother’s hand and the four of them left together.
Once outside, Ben held his father by the hand and hurried up beside Frankie and murmured, “I suppose I should say thank you, but would you mind telling me what that was all about?”
“I work with seniors,” she said, “and I knew your dad needed help. Besides, I hate labels like that.”
“Like ‘crazy’?”
She nodded.
They walked together for a little while, not saying anything.
Frankie took in the eclectic shops ranging from a hairdresser to a sporting-goods store to a small art gallery. She loved the smell of the air and seeing the tall pine trees.
“My dad used to be a minister,” Ben offered quietly. “He was one of the kindest, wisest men you’d ever want to meet.” Sadness and another expression that Frankie couldn’t quite decipher flickered across his face.
Ben’s father had let go of his hand and walked beside Rae, slightly in front of them. “I’m Al,” Frankie heard him tell Rae. “Who are you?”
Frankie wasn’t sure how Rae would react, both because of the unusual situation and because she had become much more reticent since her dad had left. But she just looked shyly up at Al and shuffled her feet a bit. “I’m Rae,” she told him.
The two of them continued to stroll together in what looked like a compatible silence.
Rae was an intuitive little girl, and she could probably sense that Al didn’t mean any harm, despite what she had seen at the Nature Center.
She also noticed Ben’s stiff shoulders loosen slightly. His handsome face no longer looked as agitated as it had, but still wore deep shadows of the devastating kind of fatigue she knew could overcome long-term caregivers: the kind of fatigue people had when they knew things would only get worse.
“What about your mother?” Frankie asked. “Do you have any brothers or sisters to help out?” She avoided asking him why he hadn’t placed his father in permanent care. She knew that the decision to do so was very complex, colored by each family’s experiences and emotions.
She also wasn’t going to ask if he was married and why his wife wasn’t with him if he was. It was none of her business and she certainly didn’t care. She had noticed that he wasn’t wearing a ring, but these days that didn’t mean anything.
“Mom died two years ago,” Ben said. “Ovarian cancer.”
“I’m so sorry. It’s horrible watching someone go through that.”
“I was away,” Ben said tersely, in a tone that clearly indicated he wanted no further questions. He reached up and brushed his hair off his forehead. Frankie found herself wondering why she’d never been attracted to a man with light hair before. Trevor’s hair had been dark.
“Is something the matter?” Ben asked, catching her gaze.
Frankie felt her cheeks flush. “No,” she said shortly.
After another moment, he said quietly. “I’m glad Mom never had to see Dad like this.”
She nodded. She understood there was nothing to say.
“As for your other question, I’m an only child so it’s just Dad and me now.”
“It’s just Rae and me,” Frankie heard herself say, and inwardly cringed a little. She didn’t tell people personal things about herself, especially men. She just didn’t. She rapidly changed the subject. “I’m sure your dad appreciates you, even if he can’t always tell you.”
For a moment weariness and something darker shadowed Ben’s features.
“It’s the least I can do,” he said.
He glanced over at Al and Rae and said, “Is your daughter okay with him, do you think? I don’t want her to be uncomfortable.”
Throughout her conversation with Ben, Frankie had been able to hear the light, gentle notes of her daughter’s voice, telling Al that she liked Sunday school and that she was allergic to peanuts.
“She’s doing fine,” she said, and was pleasantly surprised herself. Maybe Rae paid more attention than Frankie thought when she talked about her work and how important it was to treat seniors with dignity.
“Anyway,” Ben said, “before Dad wandered off, we did go to the office and I got everything straightened out. I asked Paula—she’s the manager—to open the cabin and, thankfully, there isn’t any damage to the inside. Dad and I are fine to stay there and they’ll get cleanup crews for the outside damage as soon as they can. Our cabin is clean for you.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” Frankie said again.
“It’s already done.” His tone brooked no argument.
Well, Frankie reasoned to herself, she could accept it for Rae’s sake. Even if the inside of the cabin was fine, she knew it wouldn’t feel right to sleep in a cabin that had been vandalized whether for reasons of mischief or true malice.
“You said there’d been vandalism around here,” she said. “Do you think it’s safe for us to stay here?” Her head began to drum out an ache and her nerves to strum an accompaniment as she thought of her parents’ generosity and the promises she had made to Rae. Ben appeared to give his answer careful consideration.
“It’s disturbing,” he said, “and it’s getting very expensive for the town—all the cleaning supplies and fresh paint. But I honestly don’t think anyone is in any danger.”
Frankie nodded, pondering.
“Does anyone have any idea who’s doing it?”
Ben shrugged in frustration. “No one is saying for sure, but I think there are some kids in the town whose parents have a little too much money but not quite enough time to give them.”
Frankie had been so absorbed in their conversation that she was surprised when she spotted the Nature Center again and realized they had walked in a circle.
Ben chuckled a bit ruefully as he noticed the same thing.
“Dad likes to walk,” he said. “It helps calm him. If you don’t mind, we could make another loop, and this time I’ll show off my tour-guide skills.”
Frankie sensed the effort Ben was making to be hospitable and how difficult it must be for him to find balance in his life. A tiny piece of armor fell from her heart.
“Are you okay to walk a bit more?” she asked Rae.
“Sure,” Rae answered cheerily. “Al and I are having a good chat.”
Frankie was happy that Rae was comfortable. It was what she wanted for her daughter. But she couldn’t help wondering how any kind of attachment to their summer neighbors—even a minor one—would impact their time and her own aspirations.
* * *
Later, while Ben scrambled eggs for