Page 19 of Bluebell Promises

“We didn’t have a subject to change,” Ben countered.

The barbecue went on. Sophie and Lily took charge of the music, introducing them to Gen Z songs that Ben and Landon agreed were “pretty cool.” Now that he was getting closer and closer to forty, Ben felt further and further away from what was going on culturally. It was nice to have connections with younger people. They were the ones creating culture now, he supposed.

Eventually, Pierre padded over to Ben to say hello. Ben helped him onto his lap and stroked him, whispering sweet things into his ears. When he raised his eyes, he expected to find Wren watching him. But Wren wasn’t on the veranda anymore. He waited, knowing she’d return sooner rather than later. Maybe she’d come over and sit beside him. Maybe they could talk more about photography, or her travels, or whatever else was on her mind. But five minutes drifted to fifteen, and still, she wasn’t outside.

Ivy noticed, too. “Where has that girl gotten off to?” She got up and went inside, scowling.

“I’m sure it’s all right, Ivy,” Celia said, following after her.

Juliet got up, too, chasing her sisters and letting the screen door slam behind her. Ben and Landon made eye contact, sensing a storm brewing. Elliott stood and opened the cooler to get more beer out of it, his eyes wounded.

“Is there something wrong?” Ben asked.

Elliott popped the top off his beer and considered this. “Ivy’s worried, I guess.”

“She’s always worried,” Lily affirmed. “I’m sure Aunt Wren is fine.”

“Couldn’t believe how cool Aunt Ivy was about the dog,” Sophie offered.

They were quiet for a moment, watching Pierre as he panted happily on Ben’s lap.

It was then that they heard the Harper sisters upstairs. It was a breezy, beautiful August day, so all the windows were open. Everyone on the veranda sat, listening, although they knew that they shouldn’t.

“What on earth is wrong with you?” Ivy cried angrily, fearfully.

“Oh, honey,” Celia said, her voice marred with worry.

“It’s fine,” Wren responded, her voice muffled. “It’s all fine! I just need to lie down for a second.”

“It’s obviously not fine,” Ivy shot back.

Ben could picture the scene in his mind’s eye. He could see them—maybe in Wren’s bedroom—standing in a circle around Wren’s bed, looking down at her. Ivy’s tactic, when worried, was to react angrily. Ben had had his own share of that, when he’d been married to Rina. He understood that anger was a normal response, if not a comfortable one for anyone involved.

“You need to tell us what’s going on right now,” Ivy said.

Ben shifted. Pierre got up, his legs shaking on Ben’s lap, so Ben helped him to the ground and watched as Pierre hurried to the door and whined to be let in. It was like he wanted to come to Wren’s aid. Ben got up, too, finishing his beer. He didn’t want to eavesdrop on this family. He’d come for the proposal, and it was time to go.

“Tell Ivy thanks for hosting,” he said, shaking Landon’s hand. “And congratulations.”

“You don’t have to go,” Landon said, although his eyes were wounded. He hadn’t wanted today to go like this, clearly. But families were complicated. Ben reminded himself that this was one Landon wanted to marry into, which meant there was plenty of love here, too.

“I have some work to do back home,” Ben lied. “But I’ll text you later.”

Ben said goodbye to everyone else, then hurried through the shadows of the house and came out on the front porch. Out here, he couldn’t hear the Harper sisters at all, although he imagined that they were still arguing, still demanding answers from poor Wren.

Back at home, Ben changed into a pair of tennis shorts and a big T-shirt and turned on a baseball game. Neither team was his team, but he liked to zone out, watching the players whip around the field and the ball shoot into the sky. Back when he’d been married, Rina had liked baseball more than he did, and they’d gone to games quite often—usually the Boston Red Sox, although Ben hadn’t had an allegiance to them. He wondered if she still went to games. When he considered looking up her social media to see if she’d posted anything Sox-related, he scolded himself inwardly. He’d promised himself not to regret the past. He broke that promise all the time.

It was eight years ago already that Rina didn’t come home. Ben had had a difficult day at the vet clinic. He’d had to help a family say goodbye to their black lab, and in the process, he’d shed a few tears himself. That particular dog—Randy—had been one of his “patients,” so to speak, for more than five years, and he’d privately always regarded Randy as one of his favorites. But cancer had spread throughout Randy’s organs, and he was in far more pain than any dog should ever have been.

Needless to say, Ben had needed the love and support that many people seek from their spouses. He’d gone home and lay on the couch with a beer, watching television glumly, watching the clock and the door and craning to hear the first sounds of his wife.

Admittedly, things hadn’t been entirely good between him and Rina for a while. It wasn’t that they fought. Rather, they were exhausted with one another. They rarely shared information about their day, and they always made plans with friends before checking with one another. Sometimes Ben came home late to realize that Rina had ordered food to be delivered, but she hadn’t thought to get anything for him.

These were little things, Ben knew. He told himself these things were inconsequential, that married couples went through difficult times, that feelings came and went.

Ben’s first instinct, when Rina didn’t come home, was to call her best friend Sunny. Sunny and Rina had grown up together. Sunny had been the maid of honor at their wedding and had been present for most major life events, including birthday parties, New Year’s Eves, and Christmases. She was more like family.

Sunny didn’t answer at first—not the first or second time that Ben tried. This gave Ben immediate pause. Like many people, Sunny was addicted to her cell phone and almost always had it on her. She’d talked about her “obsession” and ways to curb it, but Ben guessed that she hadn’t found a way to kick the habit yet. It meant she wasn’t answering the phone because of who was calling. But why wouldn’t she want to talk to Ben?