Ben’s head jerked back as though she’d slapped him.
Realizing how hurtful her words sounded, Amy clapped a hand over her mouth.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for that to come out like that.”
He glanced away, but Amy saw the muscle in his jaw clench in the dim light.
“Please forgive me.” Tears filled her eyes, and her throat burned. The last thing she wanted was to hurt Ben. She grabbed his arm. “Ben...”
He looked at her. “You’re right.” The pain in his eyes and voice tore at her heart and her chest tightened.
“No, I should never have—”
“I used to be a father,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “But I’m not anymore, and I used to be a husband, but I’m not anymore.”
Hot tears ran down Amy’s cheeks. The anguish in his voice broke her heart.
“I don’t know what I am anymore.”
“Listen to me.” She put both hands on his shoulders much, as he’d done to her earlier that evening. She gave him a slight shake, waiting for him to look at her. “You’re still a father. That hasn’t changed because Cassey isn’t here. You’re also a son, a brother, a nephew, and a cousin, but most importantly you are a wonderful, kind, compassionate man, to whom I am very grateful.” More tears spilled onto her cheeks. “Please, don’t let my careless words hurt you. You know I tend to speak without thinking, and I’m so sorry. I can’t bear for you to leave without forgiving me.”
Ben cupped her face with both hands and wiped her tears with his thumbs. “It only hurts because it’s true. Unfortunately, the pain of acceptance is almost as bad as the pain of the actual loss.” He dropped his hand and turned to leave.
“Please, don’t go.” She grabbed his arm again.
He covered the hand on his arm and squeezed. “There’s nothing to forgive, Amy. I’m not angry with you,” he said, his voice flat. Then he turned and walked out the door.
Amy dropped onto the couch and buried her face in her hands. These emotions had been building ever since she saw the pictures of Melanie’s lifeless brown eyes and that empty car seat base. And now, her careless words were another source of pain for Ben.
Will I ever learn to think before speaking?
Hope came home a few minutes later and found her crying. She sat beside Amy and put her arm around her. “What’s wrong, dear?”
“Oh, Hope. I said something awful to Ben. I didn’t mean to. It just slipped out.”
“Tell me what happened.”
Fresh tears filled Amy’s eyes when she told Hope about seeing the file on Melanie’s accident, and how it made her feel, despite the fact she didn’t even know Melanie.
Hope’s arm tightened around her, and she cried with Amy as she shared how difficult losing Melanie and Cassey had been, especially on Ben.
Amy told her about the careless words she’d said to Ben. “He said he wasn’t angry at me, but how can he not be hurt by what I said?”
“Ben has always been that way. After the accident, I rarely saw him cry. He often had red eyes, so I know he cried in private, but he rarely did in front of others. He prefers to be alone with his grief, but I’m not sure he’s dealing with the loss very well.”
“I wish I could say or do something to help him.” Maybe she could, if she could remember where she’d seen the baby from the photograph on Ben’s desk.
“We all do, dear.” Hope hugged Amy again. “But you’ve done more than you realize.”
Amy pulled back. “What do you mean?”
“Ben has smiled more since you and Kallie came to town than I’ve seen in almost a year. And he comes around more often than he used to.”
“I keep worrying Kallie is a constant reminder of what he lost.”
“In some ways, I’m sure she is, but I’m hoping she will be his own little form of therapy.” When Amy’s brow furrowed, Hope added, “Maybe she can help him accept his loss and be the reason he decides to build a new life.”
Could Hope be right? Ben did seem more comfortable with Kallie lately, and Kallie liked Ben. Could she pull him out of his grief?
