I touch his knee. “I read some online articles.”
He nods and stares out the windshield. “So you already know how it ends.”
I know that the Drexler men decided to change their version of events. They pinned the murder of Ben’s father on Ben’s Uncle Layton, who conveniently died last year. Angus and his father were the only other witnesses besides Ben and they told the same incredulous story. They said Layton was arguing with his brother and pulled a gun. They said after Ben’s father was killed they were afraid. They said Layton had threatened them. They said Ben had simply been mistaken about what he saw. Understandable, since witnessing his father’s death was a traumatic event. Of course some details got mixed up. Sure, they were awful sorry that they lied all this time but that was in the past. Everyone could move on now.
As for Angus’s injuries, he would be recuperating for a long time following an unfortunate ‘skiing accident’ over the holidays.
And the missing couple?
The case remains cold with no evidence to tie their disappearance to the Drexler Group.
Reading between the lines, it’s easy to see that there has been a long list of people, from politicians to reporters, who have been bribed or threatened to make them cooperate with this new fiction being peddled by the Drexlers. I guess all the money in the world can do that. The idea is terrifying and I don’t know how Ben can stand it. Then again, he doesn’t have a choice. Perhaps someday justice will be served. Until then, life can’t be placed on pause indefinitely.
Since I left my rice bowl behind in the cafeteria Ben offers to take me to lunch at a small retro diner in Black Mountain. We choose a cozy booth in the back and Ben stays on my side with his arm around me.
“So.” I snuggle against him and try to sort out which question I want to ask first.
He peers at me. “So?”
“Well, for starters, what name should I call you from now on?”
“You should call me Ben.” He tugs at a piece of my hair. “Like you always have.”
“And is it Ben Drexler or Ben Beltran?”
He massages my neck and becomes pensive. “I gave that a lot of thought. I wondered if I was dishonoring my father by abandoning the family name for good. Then I decided that my father would understand. He would understand that I stopped being Bennet Drexler a long time ago. Somewhere along the way I stopped simply pretending to be Ben Beltran.”
I kiss his cheek. “You are Ben Beltran.”
He grins. “Yup. Resident of Devil Valley. Devoted son. Second baseman for the Black Mountain Academy baseball team.” He reaches for me and runs his hand over my cheek. “And most importantly, Camden’s boyfriend.”
I grab him in a fierce hug, all the days of heartsick anxiety melting away now that he’s close to me again. “You’ll have to get comfortable in this position,” I warn him. “Because I’m never letting you go.”
He chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’m not ever going anywhere without you.” He seals the declaration with a kiss. And a whisper. “Trust me.”
I whisper back. “Forever, Ben.”
Epilogue
Ben
Five years later
“You can stop doing that.” She laughs at me.
“What?”
“Throwing me a worried look every mile. I promise I won’t ruin your upholstery.”
“Shush, I wasn’t thinking about my truck’s upholstery. I was admiring my wife. Do you need to stop before we get to town?”
“No, I can make it. I’ve only puked once today so I’m hopeful that this phase is on its way out.”
I look at her again, this stunning genius of a woman who, for some inexplicable reason, chose me.
“What’s the deal with Frankie? He didn’t want to drive up with us?”
Her brother is in his third year at ESU, where both Camden and I went to college. We don’t live too far from campus and we see him all the time. After playing ball for the university for all four years I accepted a job in their athletic department. Camden, meanwhile, became editor-in-chief of ESU’s weekly newspaper and went on to achieve her masters in record time. She teaches some undergrad journalism classes and also writes freelance articles for a number of publications around the country. Two years ago we tied the knot and two months ago we bought our first house.
The same week we discovered that we are going to be parents.
“Frankie is getting a ride into town with one of his friends this evening, which is good because my mom would have been disappointed if he missed Christmas Eve.”
When we’re still five miles away from Devil Valley, Camden says she wants to stop at the Cushings’ house first in case we lose track of time later. We’ve always stayed in close touch with them and visit whenever we return to Devil Valley, which is often. They lovingly refer to us as ‘the children’.
Diane and Dee are delighted to see us, as always. Dee had gastric bypass surgery last year and they have recently taken in two foster kids, both teenage boys who greet us shyly with their hands stuffed in their pockets. The boys smile with childlike surprise when Camden presents them both with prettily wrapped gifts. Diane serves us plates of cheese and crackers and asks about our jobs and our new house. They see Camden’s parents regularly but want to know how my mother is doing.
My mother’s life has taken a completely different direction. She’s written a memoir, started a new business as a life coach and moved to Black Mountain. I’m pleased to tell them she’s doing great. We won’t see her for Christmas since she’s currently enjoying a Caribbean cruise but these days she’s confident and successful and has no use for Dirtbag-type people. I’m proud of her.
Camden’s parents are expecting us so we can’t stay long. When we return to the truck I lean over and plant a quick kiss on my wife’s lips.
“I feel kind of guilty that we didn’t share the news.”
She smiles and flattens her palm to her belly. “We’ll tell them. After we tell our folks.”
I start the engine and switch on the heat. “We better get to it before your belly pops.”
“Already happening. Check me out in these new elastic waist pants.” She beams as she says this.
Her hand still rests on her belly and I cover it with mine. Among the gifts packed into the shopping bags in the backseat is a picture frame containing an image from last week’s ultrasound. We plan to give it to her parents on Christmas morning.
On the short drive over to Camden’s old neighborhood we talk about our other plans for the week we’ll be in town. Kent and Trina made us promise to visit Black Mountain and have dinner at their house. Kent just signed a contract to play pro hockey and in the spring we’ll be visiting Black Mountain again to attend his wedding to Trina. They broke up after high school but in time things worked out for them and now they’re back where they belong. With each other.
“Forecast says it might snow late tonight,” I point out, noting that the sky already looks pretty threatening.
“That’s perfect.” Camden plays with a strand of hair and smiles as she watches the familiar sights of Devil Valley roll by. We pass Devil Valley High and Imogen’s Diner and Dee’s Gas and Goods. I slow down when we approach the fateful street corner where the two of us used to wait for the bus to Black Mountain.