Dinner ….
Fraser searched through the selection of books he kept on hand, his favorites. Black Beauty by Anna Sewell caught his eye. He hoped that Meg wouldn't mind the children's classic, it was either that or Don Quixote by Cervantes. Although a good story, it was a bit tedious at times.
Ben slipped Black Beauty into the back of his waistband and went back to the kitchen. He was also enjoying cooking for someone besides himself. He'd whipped up the previous night's beef stew from scratch.
"Can I have some?" Dief sniffed as he squeezed between Fraser's feet at the stove. He'd been smelling the chicken Parmesan for the last hour and a half.
"You may have some of the chicken when it's finished cooking." Ben answered. He'd put an extra chicken thigh in the pot for the wolf. Dief gave him an annoyed sniff and went to lay in the corner of the warm kitchen.
"We'll have to delay our evening walk until after I've given Meg her eye drops, I've agreed to read to her this evening." Fraser informed his old friend.
"If there's a mess on the carpet, remember, it was your idea to wait." Dief shrugged and yawned.
"I should let you out into the back yard for the evening." Fraser reconsidered.
"Thought you'd see it my way." Dief perked his ears up.
Ben laid out two plates of chicken Parmesan with sweet peas, asparagus and mashed potatoes with brown gravy. One for Meg and one for himself. Two glasses of iced tea accompanied supper. Carefully, he carried the heavily laden tray upstairs, Dief trotting along behind. Meg had the door open before he could call out.
"How did you know I was outside the door?" He asked, surprised.
"I heard your boots on the stairs." Meg smiled, proud to have helped out.
"Ah, I understand." Ben carried the tray over to the dresser and set it down while he pulled the TV tray out for them to share.
"What smells so good?" Meg heard Ben moving around in the room so she stayed near the door, out of the way. He told her while he took her hand and led her to the bed.
"What book did you bring?" Ben noted how eager she sounded and hoped again that she didn't mind his selection.
"Black Beauty by Anna Sewell, but I can find something else if you'd prefer." He volunteered.
"No, that's fine, I haven't read it since I was a young girl." Meg gestured with her hand, turning over her iced tea.
"Oh my, let me get that." Fraser rushed to get the overturned glass before it drained completely out and drenched the carpet. He put both of their linen napkins on the spill at his feet. When he rose he found Meg seated on the bed, both her hands tucked beneath her. If Ben hadn't been there he was certain that she would have been crying from frustration.
"I'll get another glass of iced tea, excuse me." Ben left the room so that she could have a moment of privacy. When he returned Meg had begun eating.
"I hope you don't mind, I started without you, it smells delicious." The cheerful note in Meg's voice was forced and Ben could tell it, but graciously ignored it. Instead they made small talk about their favorite dishes. Meg nearly choked on her chicken when he described eating moose liver with onions. It didn't sound a bit appetizing.
After supper Ben took their dishes to the kitchen and came back ready to sit and read the tale of life from a horse's point of view. Meg had put on her pajama bottoms and settled down under the covers, her chin firmly planted between her collar bones. It felt as uncomfortable as it looked. She longed to lay her head back and roll her shoulders.
"I'm ready when you are." The lady Mountie folded her hands in her lap, her feet wiggling beneath the bedspread. Ben pulled the desk chair up to the side of the bed and cracked the spine on the well worn, hard back book. He took a deep breath before beginning. "The first place that I can well remember was a large pleasant meadow with a pond of clear water in it."
"Fraser, you can sit on the foot of the bed, it would be more comfortable." Meg suggested when she heard him move restlessly in the chair for the fourth or fifth time during the second chapter.
"No, I'm fine." He paused to answer between paragraphs.
"Fraser, the sound of that chair creaking tells me otherwise, go on, have a seat on the bed. I'm beneath the covers, you'll be alright." Meg insisted, waving his protests away.
Ben didn't know if he trusted himself that close to Meg, the way she smelled so sweet, or the memory of her striped toe nail polish.
"Come on, Fraser, we're nearly through chapter two." She patted the bed beside her. Ben caved. He got up from the chair and sat down at the foot of the bed opposite her.
"That's better isn't it." Meg stated confidently.
"Yes, it is." Fraser yielded, trying to hide the pleasure he felt simply being near her. He continued reading, his voice fluid and melodic as he pronounced the words easily. Meg hung on every word of the classic tale. Ben suspected she would have agreed to any of his choice of books. He felt good that he could make her more comfortable. The Mountie wondered if things had been different, could they have made an honest go of a relationship. He knew he longed to hold more than her hand when she needed him.
Before either of them knew where the time had gone, the church bells peeled out the first of ten chimes. Ben put a slip of paper into the book and closed it reluctantly.
"Eye drop time." Meg groaned, throwing back the comforter.
"Yes, I'm afraid so." Ben agreed, scooting off the edge of the bed to retrieve the offensive medication. Meg scooted down in the bed and leaned her head back against the headboard, waiting for Ben and his lightning fast method. He sat down on the side of the bed beside her, carefully drawing a dose into the plastic, suctioning stem. Meg winced after the first drop hit her eye. She dodged, getting the second drop on the side of her face. Her hands reached out, taking hold of Ben's knee as the cold, slimy drop settled into her eye.
"Eww, that was cold." She shuddered, her small but warm hand resting on the leg of Ben's uniform pants. He froze, unsure of what to do. Part of him wanted her to leave her hand there.
"The second drop was unsuccessful." Ben said after a long pause. Meg noted the way his voice rose a fraction. Moving her hand, she realized where she'd put it.
"Try it again, Fraser." Meg withdrew her hand, instead taking a handful of the comforter while she tried to hold open her eyes. She could make out a very blurry hand above her face then the fat, wet drop hit her other eye. It made her shudder to her core. Meg wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand to get the excess medicine off her face. She felt Ben stand up, the mattress bouncing.
"Here are some Kleenex." He pressed them into Meg's free hand.
"Thank you, Fraser." She dabbed gently at her eyes. They itched, watered, matted with dried eye drops and felt gritty most of the day. The only time Meg felt relief was when she was asleep. During the precious fifteen minutes of the hour she got to move her head normally, the lady Mountie had to do the things she couldn't otherwise, brushing her teeth, combing her hair, using the restroom, etc. It was draining.
"You're welcome, Meg." He responded.
"May I ask a personal question?" Meg said before Fraser could start toward the door.
"Yes, certainly." He said, leaning against the foot post of the bed, his arms crossed over his chest. Meg couldn't see it but she'd seen him stand just that way often enough to picture it in her mind's eye.
"I've asked you to call me by my first name, why haven't you extended me the same courtesy?" It wasn't as personal as Ben had anticipated. He felt relieved, but had no clue how to respond. How did he tell her that the sound of his name in her voice made him weak in the knees?
"You can call me Ben or Benton, if you wish." He tried to sound casual. The Mountie just hoped that it wasn't going to be an 'I want you to want to do it', sort of thing.
"Good night, Ben, thank you." Meg tried the word out for the first time since pulling him in on her rouse with Cloutier. Ben saw the smile pulling up the corners of her perfectly formed lips.
"Good night, Meg." He walked the length of the bed, his first impulse was to lean down and kiss her good night. Instead, Ben turned on the bedside lamp.
"What's that for?" Meg asked, confused. Why turn on a lamp when she couldn't see anything.
"Yes, quite right, you don't need a lamp just yet."
"It was considerate of you anyway." Meg pulled the comforter up to her shoulders as she settled into bed.
"Sleep well." Ben wished her as he crossed to the door.
"You too, Ben." Meg said his name with relish, making him smile.
The Next Morning …
"Good morning, Canadian Consulate, Constable Turnbull speaking." The junior Mountie answered the phone at eight the next morning with his usual, annoying exuberance.
"This is Gunnar Larsen, is Constable Fraser available?" The Icelander asked politely.
"One moment please." Turnbull transferred him to Fraser's office. The currently ranking Mountie answered promptly.
"Constable Fraser, Gunnar Larsen here, I'm calling to see how Inspector Thatcher is doing." The trade official cut straight to the point.
"Inspector Thatcher came through surgery quite well, she's currently recovering nicely." Fraser kept it brief. He was certain that Meg wouldn't want Larsen to know she was staying at the consulate.
"Is she well enough for a lunch appointment before I leave, I'd love to introduce my daughter, Viviana, to Inspector Thatcher. I'm trying to inspire her to be something besides a professional mall shopper." Larsen chuckled at his own joke.
"May I get back to you later today, Mr. Larsen, I'll have to consult Inspector Thatcher." Ben began to smooth his brow with his thumbnail, his mind working overtime.
"Yes, let me give you my cell phone number." Larsen agreed easily.
"Give Margaret my regards, Constable Fraser." He said after rattling off his cell number for the Mountie.
"I will, Mr. Larsen, have a good day." They hung up and Ben took a long, exasperated breath. Meg was going to have a fit.
Breaking the News ….
"A lunch appointment!" Meg said incredulously. Fraser could see the anxiety on her face despite the eye patches. She felt unprepared to meet Mr. Larsen and his daughter. Ben knew she felt hideous, what with her eyes covered, unable to present herself as she usually did.
"Should I call Mr. Larsen and cancel?" Fraser offered, willing to be the bad guy.
"No, no, Ottawa would frown on that." Meg jumped, her mind spinning.
"Mr. Larsen will understand, you're recovering from surgery." Ben offered, trying to make the best of a bad situation.
"He'll just have to won't he." Meg shrugged, sitting back on the bed. "I'm afraid I'm not a very good example for his daughter just now." She touched the strap of the eye patch carefully. Ben felt responsible all over again. He sat down on the bed beside her, quietly thinking. Meg laid her hand down, thumping him gently on the thigh just above his knee. She pulled her hand into her own lap when he jerked an instant later. Neither of them said anything.
"You're a fine example, Meg, you're very brave." Ben said, taking her hand between both of his. Meg turned as if to look at him, still frowning. His hands felt warm and solid around hers. After a gentle squeeze, he released her hand and stood up again.
"I suppose we could have a light brunch here at the consulate." Meg supplied with a resigned sigh.
"Yes, an excellent idea." Ben stopped pacing and turned back toward Meg.
"Day after tomorrow then?" Meg said confidently. If she was going to show herself at her most vulnerable, it might as well be the sooner than later.
"I'll arrange a caterer." Ben began making a mental list of things to do before the Larsens came for brunch.
"Ben, this is going to work, isn't it?" It was the first time he'd heard Meg sound so unsure of herself.
"I'll be there every step of the way." Fraser gave in to his impulse and crossed the room to her. The Mountie touched Meg's cheek with the back of his hand. She turned her face up, surprised by his affectionate caress.
"I'm confident you can do anything you set your mind to, Meg Thatcher." Ben said softly, bending down to press a soft kiss against her forehead.
"Will wonders never cease." Meg thought to herself when she felt Ben's kiss. She sat perfectly still, afraid to disrupt the perfect dream coming true. Before she could say anything, Ben had pulled away and started toward the door.
TYKTYKTYK
Ben closed the door softly behind him as he left the Princess Margaret Suite. Absently walking down the stairs, he found a broad smile on his face for no other reason than he'd kissed Meg. It had been an innocent, encouraging kiss, so why did he feel like he was flying? He'd kissed Meg. It wasn't the kind of kiss they'd shared on the runaway train roof, but it had been a kiss just the same.
"Hello, Constable Fraser, how's the Inspector's recovery?" Turnbull asked when Fraser walked past the front desk.
"She's recovering wonderfully." Fraser answered, his mind finally returning to the consulate. He felt giddy.
"I'm acting like a schoolboy, and at my age." Ben thought to himself, shaking his head as he pulled out the consulate address book and called their usual caterer.
TYKTYKTYK
