A Wife For Ben

“Thank you again,” she whispered. She reached up and rubbed her throat, thinking it felt raw as she talked.

“You’ve said that before,” he countered lightly.

She squeezed her daughter closer to her side. She didn’t think she would ever stop saying thank-you. The fear that had consumed her as she’d realized the house was on fire and her daughter was down the hall—her heart pounded just remembering the terror.

“I won’t get tired of saying it. You saved my daughter’s life.” She felt tears come again as she said those words.

The man driving the car rolled his eyes. Ben Mayeaux stiffened with unease.

Bachelors, she could tell. Not used to women, but she couldn’t help it. Her child had almost died. This man had saved them. “You’re my daughter’s hero. I can’t thank you enough for what you did.”

“Yeah. Well…” Ben shifted uncomfortably.

Stephanie cleared her throat. “I know we’re supposed to rest, but is there any way…I mean…” She shrugged, holding her daughter as close as the seat belts would allow. “I really need to stop and see my house today. Just to assure myself. I know it sounds crazy but…”

“No, it doesn’t.” Ben turned to the driver. “John, let’s stop by there first. But it’ll only be for a few minutes,” he added without looking at her.

Stephanie felt duly reprimanded for disobeying doctor’s orders. But she just had to see her house. The fire hadn’t been out when they’d left. She couldn’t explain why it was so important, but she just had to see, to make sure something was there. The fire seemed almost like a dream.

John turned onto the Pride-Port Hudson road before taking another turn onto a road that led to the house.

The first thing she noticed was that there were still small clouds of smoke hanging over the house, coming up in thin spirals from some blackened wood to the side of where her daughter’s room used to be.

The second thing she noticed was that part of her roof was missing.

John pulled into the driveway, the gravel crunching underneath the tires as he rolled to a stop.

“Mama,” Katie whimpered and pointed.

“It’s okay, honey,” Stephanie said, though it wasn’t.

She released her seat belt and pushed open the car door.

The smell of burned wood permeated the air, making her daughter wrinkle her nose.

As Stephanie started toward the house, Ben warned, “Don’t go inside. We don’t know what’s secure.”

Katie clung to her mother’s hand. Stephanie trembled as they walked to the side of the house past the many azaleas and hydrangeas, past the hawthorns and bridal-wreath bushes to where their bedrooms were located. The garden that had contained her flowering perennials had been crushed and was covered with soot. The annuals were gone, trampled and destroyed in the attempts to get her daughter and put out the fire. The walls to the bedrooms had been severely damaged, especially Katie’s room.

Her stomach turned, and she felt queasy as she saw how much damage Katie’s room had sustained.

Her daughter wouldn’t have lived had Ben waited for the firemen to get her out.

“Thank you, God,” she whispered, shuddering.

Katie tugged on her hand, slipped free and ran toward the blackened wood.

“Katie! Watch out. It’s dangerous there.”

“My bear, Mama,” she said, and squatted in the mess that had once been the outside wall to her room.

Stephanie hurried after her and got to her just as she stood.

Sure enough, black-coated but amazingly not too wet or burned, was the white teddy Katie liked to sleep with.

The little girl pounded the bear on the ground. “She’s dirty.”

“She sure is,” Ben said, walking up. “We can wash her out at my house,” he offered.

Stephanie wasn’t sure how well the bear would fare being washed, but she didn’t argue. Instead she said, “Mr. Ben is right. We can clean it all up.”

If only she could say the same thing about the house, she thought as her daughter ran toward the car to show John what she’d found.

Katie didn’t know what a stranger was.

Stephanie surveyed the rest of the house from where she stood.

Ben walked next to her. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“It looks pretty bad,” she said and laughed. It was not a laugh of joy but of welling despair. It was a laugh with a touch of sarcasm, a laugh that escaped to cover the tears that would come otherwise.

She had the oddest feeling Ben knew that as he slipped an arm around her and gave her shoulders a hug.

“We’ll come back tomorrow and go through everything. Just from this side it looks like the fire started toward the back and spread. I guess breaking your daughter’s window gave the fire enough oxygen to really destroy her room, but I’d be willing to bet the rest of the house is intact, if not a little water-and smoke-damaged.”

“I don’t know,” she murmured. “Standing here…”

“You need to rest.”

Glancing at the man beside her, she realized he was right. She was numb.

He was very perceptive.

Studying him, she realized he wasn’t feeling as well as he sounded, either. “Does your throat hurt as much as mine does?”

A crooked grin tilted one corner of his mouth. “I don’t know. How much does your throat hurt?”

“Feels like a rusty railroad track, and the train derailed somewhere along the line,” she admitted.

He chuckled. “Come on. Let’s go to the house. You can take one of those pills the doctor gave you—after you shower.”

“Clothes!” she said, suddenly realizing all she had were the pajamas she was dressed in.

Ben glanced down, realizing what she was wearing.

“Ah, um…” He stepped away from her, looking acutely uncomfortable. “You can borrow one of my shirts. You really shouldn’t go in there until we’re certain how stable the structure is. And your daughter, well, can she wear a T-shirt maybe?”

He acted like he was embarrassed or unsure of the offer. To her it sounded like a lifeline. “Thank you—again,” she said.