The Lucky One Page 13

  "I wouldn't go that far. But I know my way around the kitchen. I make dinner every night."

  "Oh yeah? What did you have last night?"

  "Turkey sandwich on wheat. With a pickle."

  "And the night before?"

  "Turkey sandwich on wheat. No pickle."

  She giggled. "What was the last hot meal you cooked?"

  He pretended to rack his brains. "Uh . . . beans and franks. On Monday."

  She feigned amazement. "I stand corrected. How are you at grating cheese?"

  "In that, I would consider myself an expert."

  "Okay," she said. "There's a bowl in the cupboard over there, beneath the blender. And you don't need to do the whole block. Ben usually has two tacos, and I have only one. Anything more would be for you."

  Thibault set his beer on the counter and retrieved the bowl from the cupboard. Then he moved to the sink to wash his hands and unwrap the block of cheese. He snuck glances at Elizabeth as he worked. Finished with the onion, she'd already moved on to the green pepper. The tomato came next. The knife danced steadily, the movements precise.

  "You do that so quickly."

  She answered without breaking the rhythm of her movements. "There was a while there when I dreamed of opening my own restaurant."

  "When was that?"

  "When I was fifteen. For my birthday, I even asked for the Ginsu knife."

  "You mean the one that used to be advertised on late-night television? Where the guy on the commercial uses it to cut through a tin can?"

  She nodded. "That's the one."

  "Did you get it?"

  "It's the knife I'm using now."

  He smiled. "I've never known anyone who actually admitted to buying one."

  "Now you do," she said. She stole a quick look at him. "I had this dream about opening this great place in Charleston or Savannah and having my own cookbooks and television show. Crazy, I know. But anyway, I spent the summer practicing my dicing. I'd dice everything I could, as fast as I could, until I was as fast as the guy on the commercial. There were Tupperware bowls filled with zucchini and carrots and squash that I'd picked from the garden. It drove Nana crazy, since it meant we had to have summer stew just about every single day."

  "What's summer stew?"

  "Anything mixed together that can be served over noodles or rice."

  He smiled as he shifted a pile of grated cheese to the side. "Then what happened?"

  "Summer ended, and we ran out of vegetables."

  "Ah," he said, wondering how someone could look so pretty in an apron.

  "Okay," she said, pulling another pot from under the stove, "let me whip up the salsa."

  She poured in a large can of tomato sauce, then added the onions and peppers and a dash of Tabasco, along with salt and pepper. She stirred them together and set the heat on medium.

  "Your own recipe?"

  "Nana's. Ben doesn't like things too spicy, so this is what she came up with."

  Finished with the cheese, Thibault rewrapped it. "What else?"

  "Not much. I just have to shred some lettuce and that's it. Oh, and heat up the shells in the oven. I'll let the meat and the salsa simmer for a bit."

  "How about I do the shells?"

  She handed him a cookie sheet and turned on the oven. "Just spread the shells out a little. Three for us, and however many you want for you. But don't put them in yet. We still have a few minutes. Ben likes the shells fresh out of the oven."

  Thibault did as she requested, and she finished with the lettuce at about the same time. She put three plates on the counter. Picking up her beer again, she motioned toward the door. "Come out back. I want to show you something."

  Thibault followed her out, then stopped short as he took in the view from the covered deck. Enclosed by a hedge lay a series of cobblestone paths that wove among several circular brick planters, each with its own dogwood tree; in the center of the yard, serving as a focal point, was a three-tiered fountain that fed a large koi pond.

  "Wow," he murmured. "This is gorgeous."

  "And you never knew it was here, right? It is pretty spectacular, but you should see it in the spring. Every year, Nana and I plant a few thousand tulips, daffodils, and lilies, and they start blooming right after the azaleas and dogwoods. From March through July, this garden is one of the most beautiful places on earth. And over there? Behind that lower hedge?" She pointed toward the right. "That's the home of our illustrious vegetable and herb garden."

  "Nana never mentioned she gardened."

  "She wouldn't. It was something she and Grandpa shared, kind of like their little secret. Because the kennel is right there, they wanted to make this a kind of oasis where they could escape the business, the dogs, the owners . . . even their employees. Of course, Drake and I, and then Ben and I, pitched in, but for the most part, it was theirs. It was the one project at which Grandpa really excelled. After he died, Nana decided to keep it up in his memory."

  "It's incredible," he said.

  "It is, isn't it? It wasn't so great when we were kids. Unless we were planting bulbs, we weren't allowed to play back here. All our birthday parties were on the lawn out front that separates the house from the kennel. Which meant that for two days beforehand, we'd have to scoop up all the poop so no one would accidentally step in it."

  "I can see how that would be a party stopper--

  "Hey!" a voice rang out from the kitchen. "Where are you guys?"

  Elizabeth turned at the sound of Ben's voice. "Out here, sweetie. I'm showing Mr. Thibault the backyard."

  Ben stepped outside, dressed in a black T-shirt and camouflage pants. "Where's Zeus? I'm ready for him to find me."

  "Let's eat first. We'll do that after dinner."

  "Mom . . ."

  "It'll be better when it's dark anyway," Thibault interjected. "That way you can really hide. It'll be more fun for Zeus, too."

  "What do you want to do until then?"

  "Your Nana said you played chess."

  Ben looked skeptical. "You know how to play chess?"

  "Maybe not as good as you, but I know how to play."

  "Okay." He scratched at his arm. "Hey, where did you say Zeus was?"

  "On the porch out front."

  "Can I go play with him?"

  "You'll have to set the table first," Elizabeth instructed him. "And you'll only have a couple of minutes. Dinner's almost ready."

  "Okay," he said, turning around. "Thanks."

  As he raced off, she leaned around Thibault and cupped her mouth with her hands. "Don't forget the table!"

  Ben skidded to a halt. He opened a drawer and grabbed three forks, then threw them onto the table like a dealer in Vegas, followed by the plates Elizabeth had set aside earlier. In all, it took him less than ten seconds--and the table showed it--before he vanished from view. When he was gone, Elizabeth shook her head. "Until Zeus got here, Ben used to be a quiet, easygoing child after school. He used to read and study, and now all he wants to do is chase your dog."

  Thibault made a guilty face. "Sorry."

  "Don't be. Believe me, I like a little . . . calmness as much as the next mother, but it's nice to see him so excited."

  "Why don't you get him his own dog?"

  "I will. In time. Once I see how things go with Nana." She took a sip of beer and nodded toward the house. "Let's go check on dinner. I think the oven's probably ready."

  Back inside, Elizabeth slipped the cookie sheet into the oven and stirred the meat and salsa before ladling both into bowls. As she brought them to the table along with a stack of paper napkins, Thibault straightened the silverware and plates and grabbed the cheese, lettuce, and tomatoes. When Elizabeth set her beer on the table, Thibault was struck again by her natural beauty.

  "Do you want to call Ben, or should I?"

  He forced himself to turn away. "I'll call Ben," he said.

  Ben was sitting on the front porch, stroking a panting Zeus from his forehead to his tail in one long stroke. />
  "You tired him out," Thibault observed.

  "I run pretty fast," Ben agreed.

  "You ready to eat? Dinner's on the table."

  Ben got up, and Zeus raised his head. "Stay here," Thibault said. Zeus's ears flattened as if he were being punished. But he laid his head back down as Ben and Thibault entered the house.

  Elizabeth was already seated at the table. As soon as Ben and Thibault sat down, Ben immediately started loading his taco with the seasoned ground beef.

  "I want to hear more about your walk across the country," Elizabeth said.

  "Yeah, me too," Ben said, spooning on salsa.

  Thibault reached for his napkin and spread it on his lap. "What would you like to know?"

  She flourished her napkin. "Why don't you start at the beginning?"

  For a moment, Thibault considered the truth: that it began with a photograph in the Kuwaiti desert. But he couldn't tell them about that. Instead, he started by describing a cold March morning, when he'd slung his backpack over his arm and started down the shoulder of the road. He told them about the things he saw--for Ben's sake, he made sure to describe all the wildlife he'd encountered--and talked about some of the more colorful people he'd encountered. Elizabeth seemed to realize that he wasn't accustomed to talking so much about himself, so she prompted him by asking him questions whenever he seemed to be running out of things to say. From there, she asked him a bit more about college and was amused when Ben learned that the man sitting at the table actually dug up real-life skeletons. Ben asked a few questions of his own: Do you have any brothers or sisters? No. Did you play sports? Yeah, but I was average, not great. What's your favorite football team? The Denver Broncos, of course. As Ben and Thibault chatted, Elizabeth followed their exchange with amusement and interest.

  As the evening wore on, the sunlight slanting through the window shifted and waned, dimming the kitchen. They finished eating, and after excusing himself, Ben rejoined Zeus on the porch. Thibault helped Elizabeth clean up the table, wrapping the leftovers and stacking plates and silverware in the dishwasher. Breaking her own rule, Elizabeth opened a second beer and offered another to Thibault before they escaped the heat of the kitchen and went outside.

  On the porch, the air felt noticeably cooler, and a breeze made the leaves on the trees dance. Ben and Zeus were playing again, and Ben's laughter hung suspended in the air. Elizabeth leaned on the railing, watching her son, and Thibault had to force himself not to stare in her direction. Neither of them felt the need to speak, and Thibault took a long, slow pull of his beer, wondering where on earth all of this was going.

  12

  Beth

  As night fell, Beth stood on the back deck, watching Logan concentrate on the chess board in front of him, thinking, I like him. The thought, when it struck her, felt at once surprising and natural.

  Ben and Logan were on their second game of chess, and Logan was taking his time on his next move. Ben had handily won the first game, and she could read the surprise in Logan's expression. He took it well, even asking Ben what he'd done wrong. They'd reset the board to an earlier position, and Ben showed Logan the series of errors he had made, first with his rook and queen and then, finally, with his knight.

  "Well, I'll be," Logan had said. He'd smiled at Ben. "Good job."

  She didn't want to even imagine how Keith would have reacted had he lost. In fact, she didn't have to imagine it. They'd played once a couple of years ago, and when Ben won, Keith had literally flipped the board over before storming out of the room. A few minutes later, while Ben was still gathering the pieces from behind the furniture, Keith came back into the room. Instead of apologizing, he declared that chess was a waste of time and that Ben would be better off doing something important, like studying for his classes at school or going to the batting cage, since "he hit about as well as a blind man."

  She really wanted to strangle the man sometimes.

  With Logan, though, things were different. Beth could see that Logan was in trouble again. She couldn't tell by looking at the board--the intricacies that separated the good from the great players were beyond her--but whenever Ben studied his opponent rather than his pieces, she knew the end was coming, even if Logan didn't seem to realize it.

  What she loved most about the scene was that despite the concentration the game required, Logan and Ben still managed to . . . talk. About school and Ben's teachers and what Zeus had been like when he was a puppy, and because Logan seemed genuinely interested, Ben revealed a few things that surprised her--that one of the other boys in his class had taken his lunch a couple of times and that Ben had a crush on a girl named Cici. Logan didn't deliver advice; instead he asked Ben what he thought he should do. Based on her experience with men, most assumed that when you talked to them about a problem or dilemma, they were expected to offer an opinion, even when all you wanted was for them to listen.

  Logan's natural reticence actually seemed to give Ben room to express himself. It was clear that Logan was comfortable with who he was. He wasn't trying to impress Ben or impress her by showing her how well he could get along with Ben.

  Though she'd dated infrequently over the years, she'd found that most suitors either pretended Ben didn't exist and said only a few words to him or went overboard in the way they talked to him, trying to prove how wonderful they were by being overly friendly with her son. From an early age, Ben had seen through both types almost immediately. So had she, and that was usually enough for her to end things. Well, when they weren't ending the relationship with her, that is.

  It was obvious that Ben liked spending time with Logan, and even better, she got the sense that Logan liked spending time with Ben. In the silence, Logan continued to stare at the board, his finger resting momentarily on his knight before moving it to his pawn. Ben's eyebrows rose ever so slightly. She didn't know whether Ben thought the move Logan was considering was a good one or a bad one, but Logan went ahead and moved the pawn forward.

  Ben made his next move almost immediately, something she recognized as a bad sign for Logan. A few minutes later, Logan seemed to realize that no matter what move he made, there was no way for his king to escape. He shook his head.

  "You got me."

  "Yeah," Ben confirmed, "I did."

  "I thought I was playing better."

  "You were," Ben said.

  "Until?"

  "Until you made your second move."

  Logan laughed. "Chess humor?"

  "We've got lots of jokes like that," Ben said, obviously proud. He motioned to the yard. "Is it dark enough?"

  "Yeah, I think so. You ready to play, Zeus?"

  Zeus's ears pricked up and he cocked his head. When Logan and Ben stood, Zeus scrambled to his feet.

  "You coming, Mom?"

  Beth rose from her chair. "I'm right behind you."

  They wended their way in the darkness to the front of the house. Beth paused by the front steps. "Maybe I should get a flashlight."

  "That's cheating!" Ben complained.

  "Not for the dog. For you. So you don't get lost."

  "He won't get lost," Logan assured her. "Zeus will find him."

  "Easy to say when it's not your son."

  "I'll be fine," Ben added.

  She looked from Ben to Logan before shaking her head. She wasn't entirely comfortable, but Logan didn't seem worried at all. "Okay," she said, sighing. "I want one for me, then. Is that okay?"

  "Okay," Ben agreed. "What do I do?"

  "Hide," Logan said. "And I'll send Zeus to find you."

  "Anywhere I want?"

  "Why don't you hide out that way?" Logan said, pointing toward a wooded area west of the creek, on the opposite side of the driveway from the kennel. "I don't want you accidentally slipping into the creek. And besides, your scent will be fresh out that way. Remember, you two were playing out this way before dinner. Now once he finds you, just follow him out, okay? That way you won't get lost."

  Ben peered toward the woods.
"Okay. How do I know he won't watch?"

  "I'll put him inside and count to a hundred before I let him out."

  "And you won't let him peek?"

  "Promise." Logan focused his attention on Zeus. "Come," he said. He went to the door and opened it before pausing. "Is it okay if I let him in?"

  Beth nodded. "It's fine."

  Logan motioned for Zeus to go in and lie down, then closed the door. "Okay, you're ready."

  Ben started to jog toward the woods as Logan began to count out loud. In midstride, Ben called over his shoulder, "Count slower!" His figure gradually merged into the darkness, and even before reaching the woods, he'd vanished from sight.

  Beth crossed her arms. "I must say that I don't have a good feeling about this."

  "Why not?"

  "My son hiding in the woods at night? Gee, I wonder."

  "He'll be fine. Zeus will find him in two or three minutes. At the most."

  "You have an inordinate amount of faith in your dog."

  Logan smiled, and for a moment they stood on the porch, taking in the evening. The air, warm and humid but no longer hot, smelled like the land itself: a mixture of oak and pine and earth, an odor that never failed to remind Beth that even though the world was constantly changing, this particular place always seemed to stay the same.

  She was aware that Logan had been observing her all night, trying hard not to stare, and she knew she'd been doing the same with him. She realized she liked the way Logan's intent made her feel. She was pleased he found her attractive but liked that his attraction didn't possess any of the urgency or naked desire she often felt when men stared at her. Instead, he seemed content simply to stand beside her, and for whatever reason, it was exactly what she needed.

  "I'm glad you stayed for dinner," she offered, not knowing what else to say. "Ben's having a great time."

  "I'm glad, too."

  "You were so good with him in there. Playing chess, I mean."

  "It's not hard."

  "You wouldn't think so, right?"

  He hesitated. "Are we talking about your ex again?"

  "Am I that obvious?" She leaned against a post. "You're right, though. I am talking about my ex. The putz."

  He leaned against the post on the opposite side of the stairs, facing her. "And?"

  "And I just wish things could be different."

  He hesitated, and she knew he was wondering whether or not to say anything more. In the end, he said nothing.