Second Time Around Part 25

'I'm so sorry, love.'

'You broke my heart.'

Suddenly, she was standing in front of him, looking up dolefully. 'And I want to mend it again. I know I can. Please don't let your anger come between us.'

'I want to believe you, Jennifer. I really do.' He shook his head as he spoke and would not look her in the eye.

'What do I have to do to make you believe me, Ben?' She took a step closer, placed the flat of her palm against his chest and he looked into her eyes, br.i.m.m.i.n.g with tears. 'I see now what I didn't see before. We are made for each other and a life without you is pointless and futile. I don't care what other people think any more because my love for you is more important to me than what they say. Please let me show you how much I love you.'

Shaking, he took both her hands in his and stared deep into her eyes. 'I tried to stop loving you, you know. I told myself you were too old for me, you came with too much baggage and I was a fool for giving up my inheritance. But it didn't make any difference.' He brushed the hair from her forehead and touched her cheek. 'I can't stop loving you.'

Hope flickered in Jennifer's eyes. 'Will you give me another chance?'

He nodded, his love for her far stronger than anger or fear. And when she came into his arms, and he wrapped his around her, he knew that he would never love another woman.

Later, when she'd taken the bottle of whiskey away and made him drink several cups of strong coffee, she came over to him at the table, all animated and happy, her loveliness restored. 'You're a real hero, you know,' she beamed, leaning over and very gently kissing his smashed face. 'Defending my honour like that.'

'No, I'm not.' It had all been rather pathetic actually. He'd taken a swing for Oren as soon as he opened the door of his flat. A scuffle in the hall followed, watched from the doorway by a bookish bloke in gla.s.ses, which resulted in the blow to his eye. He'd woken up, face down, on the grimy tiled floor outside Oren's front door, with Oren nowhere to be seen.

She sat down beside him, their chairs sitting at a forty-five-degree angle to each other, knees touching. 'A real knight in s.h.i.+ning armour,' she went on dreamily as if he hadn't spoken.

He sighed happily and tried to raise both eyebrows but the right side of his face wouldn't move. 'If you say so.' He took her hand and pressed it to his lips. 'Let me ask you something. What made you come here tonight? What made you change your mind about me?'

'One of the reasons I finished with you,' she said, placing a hand on his knee and giving it a squeeze, 'was to try and please Lucy. I know. That sounds ridiculous. But I was trying to be the mother that she and Oren obviously expected me to be. But after Oren made that lunge for me, and Lucy believed him, I '

'What?' he said sharply, cutting her off. 'Lucy believed Oren?'

'That's right.'

He shook his head in disbelief.

'Well, I realised then that she was probably lost to me. Oren's never going to tell the truth, is he? But I shouldn't have let Lucy manipulate me like that. And then m.u.f.fin died and she blamed me for his death.'

'Oh, my darling, I'm so sorry. What happened?'

She smiled sadly and told how m.u.f.fin had been hit by a car and David had to put him down. She stared sadly into the distance for a few moments, then sighed heavily and brought her gaze back to Ben. 'Anyway, I thought about what you said to me on New Year's Eve and I realised that you were right. I was second guessing what was right and best for you. I shouldn't have done that. I should have listened to what you wanted.

'And then out of the blue Maggie came to see me tonight. She made me see how foolish I'd been in letting you go. When Matt came in and told me that you were down here drinking, and that you'd been like a bear with a sore head since we split up, that was the clincher. I knew then that you still loved me.'

'I never stopped.'

She grinned, looked around and said brightly. 'So, now that we're back together, are you going to re-open the restaurant?'

He followed her gaze. The room, so beautifully designed by Jennifer, was the talk of Ballyfergus and beyond. And the kitchen, under Jason's expert direction, was now working like a finely tuned machine. The restaurant would be a success with or without him. If only he had the courage to walk away.

'I suppose so,' he said and she looked at him sharply.

'You don't sound very enthusiastic.'

'I'm not. I've come to realise this past month or so just how much I hate my job.'

'Well, then, you mustn't go back to it,' she said lightly, as if walking away was an option.

'It feels as if I haven't any choice.'

She watched him for a few seconds then clasped both his hands in hers. 'You said something to me a while back and it stuck. You said that what you wanted to do more than anything was to be an English teacher. Well, this is your opportunity. Go to Stranmillis and get your teaching qualification.'

'Do you think I could? Haven't I left it too late?' Becoming a teacher was a pipe dream, so far from where Ben found himself that he could not imagine ever realising it.

'No, of course not. Sure they're crying out for mature teachers. And people change careers all the time. Look at me. I only started my business twelve years ago.' She regarded him thoughtfully and then added, in that pragmatic way of hers, 'Are you going to spend the rest of your life asking "what if?" and living with regrets? Because if you are, I don't want to live with you. I want to live with a man who's fulfilled by what he does for a living, who takes pride in his work and takes pleasure from it every day.'

'That's the kind of person I want to be.'

'Well, then, do something about it!' She lowered her voice, looked deep into his eyes and said, 'I don't know what kind of hold your father has on you, Ben. I know it's not money because you don't give a fig about that. But whatever it is, believe me, you've paid your dues. He's had seven years of your life.'

'Oh, my darling,' he said, tears welling up. Jennifer was right. Seven years was too long to harbour secrets and guilt that should've been shared long ago. He brushed the side of her face with the back of his hand and said in wonder, 'What did I ever do to deserve you?'

But he never heard her reply, for the front door exploded open and Alan stormed in wearing a winter overcoat, his chest pushed out like a sergeant major and a determined expression on his round face. They both stood up, with Jennifer grabbing his hand as they met Alan in the middle of the restaurant.

Ignoring Jennifer, Alan growled, 'I just got a phone call from Jason McCluskey to say that you sent the staff home and closed the restaurant. What the h.e.l.l's going on?' He hesitated momentarily, 'And what the h.e.l.l did you do to your face?'

'I got in a fight. It's just a black eye.' Ben took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. This was his chance to break free of him, to make his own life, find his own way. He must find the courage from somewhere to stand up to him. Jennifer squeezed his hand and glancing over, she nodded her head in encouragement. He took a deep breath, stared his father directly in the eye, though his right knee was shaking uncontrollably, and said, 'I've decided to jack it in, Dad. I don't want to manage Carnegie's any more. I quit.'

Alan looked at him in bewilderment. 'But the place is a roaring success, son. We're getting a two-page spread in Ulster Tatler next month. And we're on course for winning a Taste of Ulster Award this year. Anyway, you can't leave me in the lurch like this. I don't have anyone to run this place.'

'I'm sorry. I should've given you more notice,' said Ben.

'Please Ben. You can't do this to me.'

Ben's resolve hardened. Alan would use any means, including emotional blackmail, to get what he wanted. Ben had fallen for this ploy in the past, but not any more. 'But I've made my mind up and that's it. Surely you can pull a manager out of one of the hotels meantime until you get someone permanent?'

'Well, yes, I suppose so,' said Alan, grudgingly, 'but that's not the point. You've only been here two minutes and you're fed up already. Can't you stick at anything?'

'I've been fed up for a long time, Dad,' said Ben darkly. 'I think you know that.'

Alan sighed and the anger went out of him. 'Okay, what job do you want to try now? How about a spell in Head Office?'

'I don't want any job working for Crawford Holdings.'

Alan's face drained of colour. 'Don't be a fool. You don't mean that,' he said, but his voice lacked conviction. He pulled out the nearest chair, sat down heavily and glared at Jennifer. 'I should have known she'd have something to do with this,' he said, jabbing a stubby finger at her. 'She's only after your money, you know.'

'Enough!' Ben put his arm protectively round Jennifer's shoulders. She shook with rage but, remarkably, held her tongue. 'Jennifer's here to stay, Dad. And I'll thank you to give her more respect.'

'Ben, son, what are you thinking?' said Alan, shoving cutlery aside and putting his elbow on the table. He bent his head and rubbed his brow with his hand. 'You know the future of the business rests with you. There is no one else. You can't walk away from it. You just can't.' He lifted his head and his small, grey eyes squinted at Ben as if he was looking at the sun. 'Who do you think I do it for, huh? Not for myself but for you and the generations that'll come after you. One day the Crawford name will be famous all over Ireland and beyond.'

'It might be what you want, Dad. But it's not what I want,' said Ben quietly. He let go of Jennifer's hand, went over and put a hand on his father's shoulder. Ben wasn't sure if it was because he was standing and his father sitting, but Alan seemed diminished somehow; the crown of his head, bereft of hair, looked so vulnerable. 'I've spent the last seven years trying to fill Ricky's shoes and I can't do it any longer, Dad. I'm sorry. I've decided to become a teacher.'

Alan's head shot up. 'What would you want to do that for? Sure everybody knows there's no money in teaching.'

Ben laughed and his hand slid from Alan's shoulder. 'Well, maybe that's exactly why I want to do it, Dad.'

'I won't fund it, you know,' said Alan, his beady eyes blinking rapidly. 'I won't pay for you to go to teacher training college.' He sat back in the chair with a triumphant look on his face and folded his arms.

'You won't have to,' said Jennifer, speaking for the first time and both men snapped their heads round to look at her. She pulled herself up to her full height, lifted her chin and stared imperially at Alan, her dark eyes flas.h.i.+ng with anger. 'Because I will.'

Ben's heart swelled at this selfless act of generosity. Jennifer's income was not great, he guessed, and yet she was prepared to support him for an entire year.

'That is so sweet of you, my darling,' said Ben, taking her hand again and giving it a tight squeeze. 'But you won't have to. I have a small trust fund from my maternal grandmother and some savings. It'll be enough to put myself through college.'

'And then what?' said Alan. 'Do you think you'll be happy living in some hovel together on what she earns and a teacher's salary? Don't make me laugh.'

Ben and Jennifer looked at each other and did exactly that they burst out laughing. 'Well, yes, as it happens,' said Ben. 'It won't be a palace but it won't be a hovel either. But that's okay, isn't it, my darling?'

'Yes,' said Jennifer firmly, looking up at his face and clinging on to his hand as if she would never let go. 'We'll be happy no matter where we are, so long as we have each other.'

Alan stood up. 'Then I wash my hands of you, Ben,' he said, the old steeliness back, 'and on Monday morning I'll have my solicitors write you out of my will. Maybe that'll make you see sense.'

And with that he stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Ben watched Alan disappear out of sight. He let out a loud sigh and the tension in the room immediately dissipated.

His heart was still pounding and his hand, holding Jennifer's, was damp with sweat. But he also felt an incredible elation, a lightness of heart and spirit that he had not felt since before Ricky's death.

'Well, that's the toys thrown out of the pram,' observed Jennifer and Ben laughed far more than the joke merited. Alan's red Porsche roared out of the car park, brakes screeching. 'Do you think he will write you out of his will?'

'Probably. But it'd be a relief in a way. Then I wouldn't feel the way I have done all my life as if I owed him.' He tutted, annoyed with his clumsy attempt at articulating his feelings. 'I don't mean that I don't owe him I do of course I do. He's my father and he gave Ricky and me a very happy, privileged upbringing. And I love him.' He felt himself choking up.

'But he wanted to own you.'

He nodded and Jennifer put her arm around his waist and tucked her head against his shoulder. 'I'll go and see him when he's calmed down a bit,' said Ben, pensively.

'Yes, you should.'

'There are things I need to tell him,' went on Ben, talking more to himself than Jennifer. 'Things I should've told him a long time ago.'

Chapter 24.

A week and a half had elapsed since the earth-shattering moment when Lucy had stood on Oren's doorstep and her world had crumbled beneath her. And now she stood on a bright and sunny Wellington Park Avenue, with a weekend bag in her hand, looking up at the window of her room, the place where she'd sat on many a winter's evening with Oren, trying to let G.o.d into her life, while Oren took occupation of her heart. She'd thought him her saviour, come to rescue her from a life of lonely despair. And he had, for a time, but it was all a mirage. Like the foolish man in Matthew, chapter seven, who built his house on sand, she'd built her hopes of happiness on a faithless hypocrite.

She turned slowly and walked to the end of the street where she stood at the bus stop. She put her hand on the outside pocket of her jacket and felt the small, square box containing her engagement ring. Her heart lurched and she felt like she might be sick. She clung to the bus stop sign, let out a single wretched sob, and the nausea pa.s.sed. A woman with a baby in a blue pram walked past and looked at her strangely. Lucy turned and faced the wall, as a single gla.s.sy tear trickled down her cheek. She had loved him with all her heart and soul. But her devotion to Oren, and to G.o.d, had not been enough. Why did he want to marry her, when he could not be faithful? And why did he want her plain, gangly, boring Lucy when he could have any girl he wanted?

Did Oren think that because she was plain she would tolerate his behaviour? Lots of girls would, she supposed. She might even, had she believed it a one off. But she knew that it wasn't. He'd made a pa.s.s at her mother and she was ashamed that she had not believed her. She could only hope and pray that her mother would forgive her.

She thought back to all the times he'd not answered her calls or responded to texts, the times he claimed to be studying or playing rugby or preparing a speech for church all opportunities for unfaithfulness. If she married him, is this how her life would be? Always looking over her shoulder, doubting him, never being able to trust him? Her confidence, and her love, slowly eroded by each betrayal, every time she looked away or turned the other cheek? Lucy did not yet know what G.o.d intended for her life but she was quite certain it wasn't this.

She saw Oren as soon she entered the high-ceilinged concourse of the train station, standing on the pale grey tiled floor, close to the frosted ticket barrier as if he might catch her trying to slip past him. Behind him, train times and messages flashed up in bright red on the black notice-board. He wore jeans, white trainers and a battered brown leather jacket that he loved, and he was standing perfectly still, towering above the crowd like a rock. People flowed around him like a stream and, while her heart leapt at the sight of him, tears sprung to her eyes. He cut such a fine, handsome figure with his rod-straight back and those broad shoulders, she had to fight back the tears, determined to see this through with dignity and poise. It was all she had left.

'Why didn't you answer my calls?' he cried as soon as he saw her. He touched her lightly on the elbow and guided her over to a row of perforated, moulded metal seats fixed to the floor. 'Oh, Lucy, I've been so worried.' And looking into his watery eyes, she could so easily believe him.

'I've been driven mad with worry. Amy hasn't seen you in over a week. I called at the house loads of times but they said you were out.' For that small kindness she would forever be grateful to her housemates.

When she could not answer, her reply stuck in her throat like a chicken bone, he went on, 'Why did we have to meet here? I really, really want to talk to you, Lucy. Listen, why don't we find a coffee shop or something nearby where we can talk, you know, properly?'

She did not want to sit in a coffee shop somewhere, listening to a web of smooth-tongued lies, fearful that he might entrap her once more. For though she knew he was a cheat and a liar, she still loved him. She found her voice at last and said, 'I have a train to catch in twenty minutes.' A sharp pain stabbed her heart and her legs felt as wobbly as her voice. She put a hand out and steadied herself by holding on to the back of a seat.

'At least sit down with me?'

She looked at the seat of the chair nearest to her, all s.h.i.+ny with use, and shook her head. Sitting with him would indicate a willingness to converse, to listen, to understand. And, after days of agony and sleepless nights, she had come here for none of those things. She looked up at his broad face, not as handsome as she'd remembered it. 'I can't see you again, Oren.'

'I know I've let you down, Lucy. I'm sorry. I've let myself down. Please forgive me.' He bowed his head the way he did in church when he prayed and she wondered if he meant for her to touch his crown, like a faith healer. Or a Catholic priest absolving him from his sins.

He looked up and stared at her with such a desolate expression on his face, she had to remind herself that he was the architect of this situation. 'I've thought of nothing else these past ten days, Oren. But I can't forgive you.'

'You can, Lucy. Please. I love you. I still want to marry you.'

'Please, don't ...' she said, looking away, and folding her arms miserably across her chest. He still loved her. He still wanted to marry her. Her stomach tightened in a knot and his soulful eyes were trained on her like a puppy. Her heart was bruised with hurt like a fallen apple, but worse was the terrible, aching sense of disappointment. 'You're not the man I thought you were. I thought you were faithful. I thought you were good.'

'Oh, Lucy, I never claimed to be good,' he said holding out both hands, palms upwards. 'I always told you I was a sinner. And aren't we all? For all have sinned and come short of the Glory of G.o.d.'

'Don't bring G.o.d into this.' His hypocrisy in quoting the Bible at her grated, like the screech of a train somewhere in the background. 'G.o.d has nothing to do with this. Only the devil.'

'No, you're wrong, Lucy,' he said earnestly, and fleetingly she closed her eyes, bracing herself for one of his persuasive arguments. 'The devil put temptation in my way and I succ.u.mbed. But didn't G.o.d teach us how to forgive? Be ye therefore merciful,' he quoted, his eyes s.h.i.+ning bright as they always did when he recited Scripture, 'as your Father is also merciful. Judge not, and ye shall not be judged: condemn not, and ye shall not be condemned: forgive, and ye shall be forgiven.'

'I know I should forgive you, Oren. And I hope that, with G.o.d's grace, one day I can.'

His face brightened and his hands dropped to his sides. 'Don't let my sins tarnish you, Lucy.'

'What?' she said, removing her hand from the back of the seat.

'But if ye forgive not men their trespa.s.ses, neither will your Father forgive your trespa.s.ses.'

She was stunned into silence for a few moments. How had his sin suddenly jeopardised her chance of entering the Kingdom of G.o.d?

'I don't want you to incur the Lord's wrath,' he went on. 'Forgive me, Lucy, and all will be as it was. We can be happy together as man and wife.'

'Oren,' she said evenly, spite stirring in her breast. 'If I thought that what happened in your flat was a one off, then maybe I could find it in my heart to forgive you.'

'Oh, Lucy, I knew you would!' He moved towards her and she took a step back, the heel of her boot clanging on the metal bin. 'It was a moment of madness. A mistake. I promise you, it'll never happen again.'

She shook her head, watching his features closely. 'But what you did to my mother was wicked and evil. You lied and you stood by, watching, while my family nearly tore itself apart.'

He bit his lip and took another step towards her until he was standing too close, crowding her against the bin, his breath on her face. 'As G.o.d is my witness,' he said, his eyes boring into her like a drill, 'I never laid a hand on your mother.'