Page 50 of The Story Sisters

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“You’re moving back?” When they were young they couldn’t wait to get out of town; it was all they talked about.

The snow is shin-deep, and Shelby has to blink in order to see.

“Yeah, well, I’m getting married,” Ben says. “That’s what the new house is all about. She’s a pharmacist, too.”

“Aha,” Shelby says. Her heart has dropped. She just keeps breathing.

They walk on. Ben is obviously waiting for more of a response. He doesn’t get it.

“Is that all you have to say?”

“Congratulations?” Shelby tries.

What is she supposed to do? Tell him she ruined their relationship like she ruined everything else and she doesn’t wish him luck for a single second even though he’s walking with her through a cemetery in a snowstorm?

“What’s she like?” Shelby says, hoping her jealousy doesn’t rise through her skin in green puffs.

“Her name is Ana. Her family is from Cuba, but she grew up in Northport. We met at a conference and it turned out we had mutual friends.”

Shelby didn’t know Ben had friends. She doesn’t. Only Maravelle. She can’t imagine who else would put up with her.

Now that Ben has started talking about his intended he can’t seem to stop. He has a dreamy expression. “She has long black hair. She calls me Benny.”

“Great,” Shelby says. “Perfect. Don’t tell me any more. Okay?”

“Sorry,” Ben says. “I didn’t think you’d care.”

Shelby walks faster. She’s afraid she’s crossing over graves because it’s impossible to tell where the paths end under all the snow. Finally there is the angel near her mother’s grave site; Shelby is sure of it. Her wings are feathered stone. It’s hard to tell where the fresh graves are because of the new cover of snow, but Shelby finds the spot.

“You’ve got a natural sense of direction,” Ben says.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? And did you have to tell me how beautiful Ana was?”

“I wanted to tell you I was getting married before someone else did. And I didn’t say she was beautiful.”

But Shelby can tell from Ben’s tone that she is. He just doesn’t want to wound Shelby any more than he already has with another woman’s beauty. The dog starts to whimper, so Shelby puts him down in the snow.

“Here you are,” Shelby tells Buddy. “So now you know, she’s not coming back. Not if you wait for a hundred years. She’s left you and you’re all alone, so get used to it.”

Buddy stands there shivering.

Shelby doesn’t even know she’s crying until Ben puts his arms around her. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Shelby.”

She sobs until she can’t breathe. When she pulls herself together, she backs away from him. She takes off one of the gloves she bought at the 7-Eleven and blows her nose in it.

“Lovely,” Ben jokes.

Shelby laughs. Then she looks down. She doesn’t see the dog.

“Oh, no,” she says. Everything is white. Blindingly white. “Damn it, Ben, the dog is missing!”

Shelby is in a panic. She starts clapping her hands together and calling for the dog. She wanders blindly through the snow. “Buddy,” she calls. Her mother will never forgive her. It was the one thing she asked of Shelby, and she can’t even do that right.

Ben comes up behind Shelby and takes her arm. “Over there,” he says.

Shelby turns. There is the poodle sitting beside the angel. Shelby’s sobbing must have scared him. He’s too afraid to move. Shelby runs and picks him up. He’s soaked with snow.

“Buddy,” she says. She feels about ten years old and so lost no one will ever find her.

Ben Mink is there. “It’s okay,” he tells her.

“Is it?” Shelby says. How could she ever have thrown him away?

“It will be,” Ben says.

They walk back following the tracks they left. Soon those tracks will be gone. A foot of snow will fall by midnight. Shelby climbs the fence first. Ben hands the dog over, and follows. Once they get into the car, they turn up the heat and Shelby towels the dog dry with a blanket Ben keeps in the backseat.

Ben gets out and goes around to the trunk. When he gets in again and sits behind the wheel, he’s got a large, fancy box. “I bought you something. I knew I’d see you. I just didn’t think it would be at a 7-Eleven.”

“It’s not my birthday or anything,” Shelby says.

“It’s just a present, Shelby.”

“Because my mother’s dead?” Her voice breaks and then she’s embarrassed.

“Because I wanted to give this to you. I’ve wanted to for a long time.”

Shelby opens the box. It’s a Burberry raincoat. The last time she saw him she’d gone on and on about wanting a Burberry raincoat and he must have believed her.

“Ben,” she says.

“I was an ass the last time I saw you. I didn’t want you to know how much you used to mean to me. When we were together I could never afford to get you anything nice. This is for old times’ sake.”

Shelby decides she doesn’t want to go back to her parents’ house. She has a timetable for the Long Island Rail Road in her pocket, so Ben drives her to the station. This is as over as a relationship can get. She used to mean something to him. Ben gets out of the Volvo to wait for the train with her. Shelby has Buddy tucked into her coat. The raincoat is draped over her arm.

“Well, that was fun,” Shelby says. “Remind me to invite you to the next funeral.”

“Maybe she will be a cardinal,” Ben says.

Shelby laughs. “You said that kid was a liar and bad news.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s not right.”

When the train arrives Ben hugs Shelby as best he can without crushing Buddy.

“It’s okay if your girlfriend is beautiful,” Shelby says. “I want you to be happy.”

Ben grins. “Really? You never did before.”

They laugh and embrace, then Shelby gets on the train. At this hour, it’s almost empty and she has a double seat all to herself. There is so much snow it’s like taking a train through the clouds. Buddy’s even breathing means he’s fallen asleep again. She’ll keep her promise to her mother and take him home. As they near Penn Station, Shelby considers leaving the raincoat behind for some needy person to find. It’s not really her style. Then she realizes she’s the needy person. She didn’t thank Ben, and she probably should have, but maybe he knows that she’s grateful. Maybe he understands that saying thank you can be just as hard as saying good-bye.


Tags: Alice Hoffman Fantasy