NOW:
It was Sunday afternoon when Ben saw Adam again.
He came into town in the company of Hoss, Joe, and Jamie to attend church. Afterwards, his three sons left town, and Ben held back. As they rode away, he was taken aback by the visual. How many times in his lifetime had he watched three of his sons leave in one another's company? Would there ever come a time when he would look upon all four? He dearly hoped so.
He arrived at the sheriff's office only to find the door locked, the insides of the building curiously dark. He walked the distance between Main and Kay streets and found his oldest son sitting in a chair on the porch.
Ankle hooked over his knee, Adam lazily sipped a cup of coffee, his attention rooted on a book sprawled open on his elevated thigh. The front door of the house had been left open, the area of the porch just beyond the threshold of the home littered with a collection of carefully stacked books. Ben could not help smiling, the stacks were the handiwork of his grandson, no doubt. An inadvertent obstacle for any who happened to call and be invited in. Still, neither the boy nor Peggy were anywhere to be seen as Ben opened and strode through the gate separating his son's lodgings from the rest of the town.
The creak of the wood prompted Adam to look up and take note of his approaching father. "Howdy," he said, casting him a curious gaze.
Ben nodded in return.
"What brings you this way?" Adam asked.
"Church," Ben said.
"Ah."
"I thought I'd stop by and say hello. You weren't at the office." It was more explanation than Ben needed to give, but he still offered it. "So here I am," he added lamely.
"To say hello."
"Among other things."
Shutting his book, Adam held it in his hand and avoided looking at his father. "What other things?" he asked.
Lord, their conversation felt so awkward and forced. Why did it have to be this way? They were family, not enemies, or strangers. They were father and son. Why did it feel as though they were nothing at all?
"I have been spending a great deal of time at the Running D lately," Ben said. It was better to be direct, lest he lose his nerve to speak about such things completely.
"And?"
"I've been doing a great deal of thinking."
"And?"
"I think that we're overdue for a talk."
"About?"
"The past."
"Oh, Christ," Adam mumbled. "Not this," he added, his voice returning to its usual volume. "Not again. How many times do I have to tell you, there isn't anything left for us to talk about with regards to any of that?"
"I think there is."
"There isn't."
"Do you really believe that?"
The question hung between them as Noah emerged from inside of the house. Security blanket hung across his shoulders, he padded purposefully to his father's side, holding a half-eaten, oversized cookie in one hand and expectantly reaching for Adam's book with the other.
"I'm not finished, buddy," Adam said, his attention shifting from his father to his son.
Forehead wrinkling with thought, Noah looked between his cookie and Adam's book, then seemingly deciding upon something, he extended the cookie and pointed to the book with his free index finger.
"A trade, huh?" Adam asked evenly, a fond smile curling his lips.
Noah nodded.
"Your cookie for my book?"
Noah nodded again.
"I'll tell you what, I'll hold on to your cookie, if you hold on to my book, and then we'll trade again later this afternoon. Okay?"
Noah seemed to think about the conditions of the agreement before carefully placing his cookie upon Adam's leg and reaching for the book. He held it in both his hands as he turned and strode slowly to the doorway to place his new acquisition atop his growing tower. Then disappearing into the house, he was gone again, leaving his father and grandfather to the conversation they had begun.
"Adam— "
"I don't want to hear it, Pa," Adam said. "How many times do we have to have the same conversation? I don't want to talk about the past. It is what it is. Leave it alone; let it lie."
Ben could not do that, not now that he had finally found the clarity and desire to invite transparency on all that he had protected. Maybe Adam did not want to talk about or listen to his explanations concerning the past, but he needed to. If not for his daughter's benefit than for his own. The past would not have been easy to talk about under the most ideal circumstances; under the current ones it was nearly impossible to summon the desire or courage to do such a thing. It had to be done, Ben thought, the same obstinate conviction that had refused to be dismissed since his conversation with Peggy. It was Peggy's conviction; her solemnly shared belief and the sadness beneath her insinuations that had finally led Ben here, and now that he was, he refused to be silenced.
"Ohio," he said simply, the word meant as a warning of sorts. A warning of the seriousness of the impending conversation. Of the necessity of what he was about to say. He was not certain what kind of response he was expecting or trying to solicit; still, it was not the one he received.
"Is that supposed to threaten me?" Adam scoffed.
"Well, no."
"Because it doesn't. Maybe at one time it might have, but it doesn't. Not anymore."
"What does it do?"
"Nothing you want it to, I'm sure."
"You're angry," Ben said bluntly. He deserved as much. "That's fine. Adam, I can accept whatever you have to say, however you choose to say it."
"I'm not angry," Adam said. His terse tone seemed to negate his statement. "I hardly have time for such frivolities."
"Then what are you?"
Just tell me how you feel, Ben thought, so we can talk about it, or scream at each other like we used to. We can finally have a big explosive, cathartic argument. The kind that left us both feeling better about whatever it was we were disagreeing about. Tell me how you feel, so I can help you not to feel that way anymore. I'll tell you what Will did, what I did for him and why, and then you can tell me what you did and both our consciences can finally be cleansed. Lord, it sounded so pleasant when he thought about it; if only reality could be so kind.
"Adam, please—"
"I'm tired," Adam said firmly.
Ben felt the tiniest twinge of hope. "Of?" he asked.
"This. You. Of being forced to say the same thing so many damn times that I—"
"Careful," a feminine voice from the doorway of the house suddenly interjected. "I am sure I do not need to remind you gentlemen that there are young, impressionable ears lurking just beyond this conversation. Noah may not speak, but that does not mean he cannot hear."
Adam did not react to the interloper making themselves known. Ben, however, looked upon the woman in shock. Though she had aged, Lilian Manfred, a woman once known to him publicly as Laura Dayton's Aunt Lil, and privately as Cupid's Henchman, was as well put together and rotund as she had ever been. He had not expected to see her again; he certainly would not have anticipated seeing her emerge from the confines of his eldest son's home.
She smiled at Ben, her blue eyes appraising him from afar. "Hello, again," she said warmly. "Forgive me for not introducing myself properly, but it seems the past has negated the need for such things. I have not forgotten you, and I am certain you have not forgotten me."
"I could never forget a woman like you," Ben said.
Though it sounded like a compliment, it was not. He did not like this development one bit, the seemingly unpredictable return of a woman he had never trusted. He had been so skeptical of her intentions. Adam had been skeptical of her, too. So why was she here? Not only in town but inside his son's home. The answer came quickly to him. Peggy was here. She was the link between this woman and his son—between all of them now.
"Once a charmer, always a charmer," Lil said. "Forgive me for saying, it is no mystery where Adam inherited his way with women, or maybe it's just the Manford women who are more susceptible to the Cartwright charm."
"Lil," Adam interjected, trying and failing to deter the direction of the conversation.
"Oh, come on, now," Lil said affably as she cast Adam a knowing grin. "Do you have any idea how difficult it is to woo the women of this family, and you went and wooed yourself two. Of course, Laura was a bit easier to win over." She smiled fondly. "She always was a bit flighty. Now, E—"
"Enough," Adam said. Taking careful hold of the cookie Noah had left in his lap, he stood abruptly and wiped his free hand over the crumbs clinging to his pants. He handed the cookie to Lil. "Look after that for me," he said. "I'm gonna need it later."
"Oh, honey." Lil evaluated the half-eaten treat. "It isn't as though we don't have more."
"It's not his," Ben said, not really understanding why. Maybe it was because now he suspected he had been wrong about Lil. She was not the interloper. He was. Something about this interaction declared she would belong here more than he ever would.
"Oh," Lil said, her expression softening with understanding. "I see." She looked at Adam. "What did Noah get out of you this time?"
"A book," Adam said.
"A half-eaten cookie for a book," Lil mused. "The boy made a fine trade, now if he'll only grow up a little more so that he can actually read it."
Adam smiled at that, then, looking at his father, his expression tightened. "I'm overdue at the office," he said. "I trust you won't follow me there."
"Of course not," Ben said. There was nothing else to say after that. Nothing else to do but watch his son leave, each step Adam took putting more distance between them as a new question emerged. He wanted things to be different, but what did Adam want? It alarmed him to realize he did not know.
"You look like you could use a cookie," Lil commented as Ben looked at her. "Or a really stiff drink." She tilted her head at the house. "Come on, I can offer you both."
"I'd prefer a cup of coffee."
"I can do that, too."
Despite her cultivated, ladylike refinement, Lil was not without her share of surprises. She led Ben into the kitchen instead of the sitting room. He hoped the choice of room was not indicative of something more. Lingering judgements, dislike, or ill-will, perhaps. Though her genial demeanor did not falter, she did not seem interested in impressing him. She indicated he should sit in a chair surrounding the modest table and then offered him a plate of cookies that he quickly declined. Placing the cookies in the middle of the table, she moved to the cast-iron stove and began to prepare a pot of coffee.
Their silence was awkward, almost as unbearable as those Ben shared with his oldest son. Lil did not bother so much as a word as she labored over the coffee, and Ben would not dare one until he determined how she intended to speak to him. It seemed nothing short of divine intervention when Peggy walked in, the soles of her boots announcing her presence, filling Ben's ears like a welcome chorus.
"Peggy," he said.
"Hi," Peggy said. If she was surprised to see him, she gave no indication.
"Your aunt and I are going to have a cup of coffee. Why don't you get a glass of milk and join us?"
"Milk?" Peggy chuckled as she reached for a cookie. "No, thanks. I'm a little too old for coffee-milk tea parties."
"What?" Ben laughed.
Peggy shook her head, the meaning of the phrase lost on the elders in her company. "I put Noah down for his nap," she said to Lil. "And I'm on my way out. I promised Sally Jenkins I'd take a ride with her this afternoon." She rolled her eyes. "She's just dying to tell me all about Harry Colter."
"Sally Jenkins is interested in Harry Colter?" Ben asked.
"A little more than that," Peggy said. "Harry asked Sally's pa if he could court her."
"At her age," Ben scoffed. It hardly seemed possible such a thing could take place. Though she was a year or so older than Peggy, it seemed like just yesterday Sally was running around with pigtails. It did not seem right that a man should be interested in making her his wife. At least another decade should pass before such a thing was possible.
"She's sixteen." Peggy shrugged indifferently. "Harry's twenty. It's not wildly inappropriate."
"I would say it is not inappropriate at all," Lil said. "Your mother wasn't much older than Sally when your father courted her."
But the marriage had been problematic, Ben thought. Frank Dayton had been too old and Laura too young. They had struggled from the beginning, despite Peggy's quick entrance into the world. It was not good to marry too young or too old. The young were rarely acquainted with the people they were supposed to grow into, and the old were usually too stuck in their habits to allow anyone to change.
"Courting is something you might want to spend more time considering yourself," Lil said to Peggy as she appraised her niece's masculine garb. "It would be in your best interest to soften your appearance, and start paying a little more attention to how you present yourself, especially if you really have decided against furthering your education."
"How come those are my only two choices?" Peggy challenged. "Get an education or find a man and become somebody's wife."
"Because you were born a girl," Lil said. "And society looks down upon women who do not properly embrace their purpose. You count yourself lucky times have changed enough to allow you more than one choice. Your mother didn't have a choice when she was your age. You have an opportunity she was not presented."
"Yeah," Peggy groaned. "Go to school and put the inevitable off for a few more years."
"I don't make the rules, darling."
"No, you just enforce them," Peggy said. She looked at Ben. "See you later," she added, then mouthed two silent words: good luck.
Ben wondered what he was in for. What this cup of coffee would cost him in the end.
Noting his consternation, Lil chuckled, seemingly interpreting it as a sign of something else. "I would not worry about that one, if I were you. Her Daddy's got his heart on seeing her educated, and Peggy has hers set on not indebting herself to a man. They'll both get what they want in the end. School will win out, which is a good thing, because I do not think Adam is ready to deal with potential suitors."
"What makes you say that?"
"Look at the clothes he allows her to wear. Peggy could step outside of this house wearing an oversized potato sack and Adam would not say a word. He is not going to stand in the way of anything that would prevent her from being noticed by eligible young men." Shaking her head, she grinned. "No, that man is not ready for another man to love that girl, or for her to love one in return."
"I would say he's fairly safe. Peggy did not come back here to fall in love."
"Doesn't mean she can't. Love often does not come to us at the most opportune time." Lil cast him a knowing glance. "So, I take it she's already approached you about that land. That's an old argument, I'm afraid, yet another that neither party is prepared to lose. I would not get caught in the middle of it, if I were you."
"I'm already in the middle of it."
"I suppose you are. I suppose you always have been."
It was more of a statement than accusation; still, Ben felt chastised. Had he really expected Lil to dance around the truth as proficiently as Adam did? If he did, then he should not have. No, this woman was always destined to be as direct as her grandniece, at least with topics where scheming would reach no favorable end.
"If you have an opinion on me or my past actions then I would just assume you voice it," he said.
"You would, would you," Lil said curiously as the coffee pot atop the stove began to whistle and spit steam. Guarding her hand with a kitchen cloth, she pulled it off the heat and placed it on the table. Turning, she grabbed twin mugs from the open shelving hung above the countertop. "You are a very interesting man," she added as she placed one of the mugs in front of Ben, one in front of where she intended to sit, and filled them both. "Your son is a very interesting man, too, and your grandson, Noah, is growing into a very interesting little boy, which leads me to think that exhibiting thought-provoking behaviors is somewhat of an ancestral trait where the Cartwright men are concerned."
"You've spent a lot of time with both of them."
"Of course, I have."
"In what capacity?"
Lil looked at him oddly. "Oh," she said, her expression becoming sympathetic. "Adam has not told you anything, has he?"
Ben thought the only thing more unbearable than the question was the look upon the woman's face whilst she had asked it. Needing a distraction, he reached for his coffee, only to find it a little too hot to properly sip.
"Does he speak to you at all?" Lil probed. Though Ben did not reply, it did not stop the woman from gleaning the truth. "I'm sorry, that must be very difficult for you, especially considering how things once were. I always had the impression the two of you were close; he seemed to be your right-hand man where ranch business was concerned."
"What do you know about how things once were?" Ben asked. Where did you come from? he wanted to ask. Why are you here? And why are you allowed to be so close to Adam after what you once did? While courting Laura, Adam had not trusted the woman who now sat across from Ben. It was difficult for him to understand how such a thing could have possibly changed. Why would it have changed?
"With regards to Peggy's time with Will, a lot," Lil said. "I know he hurt her. I know he was not the man who Laura thought he was, or that maybe you wanted him to be. I know the wellbeing of that little girl was a catalyst for a lot of change for the people who truly loved her."
"For Adam, you mean."
"I mean for everyone. It wasn't just Adam's life that changed. It was Peggy's, yours, and mine. Everyone's life changed the day he took her away from Will, because the word family seemed to take on a different meaning after that. Some of us became closer and others pulled further away. It is difficult to be the one who has to stand alone, especially when it's in opposition of your own father."
"If you intend to speak of matters that took place between Adam and I then I would appreciate it if you voiced your criticism outright, rather than veiling it."
"Oh, honey," Lil sighed, "I wouldn't dare. Forget the fact that Adam would never forgive me if he caught wind of it, with regards to Adam and you, I know hardly anything at all. He never spoke about it in detail to me. Although, I suspect Eddie knew the full story, or Adam's side of it, at least."
"Eddie." There was that name again, the same person Peggy had previously referenced. "And Eddie is your… son?"
"Daughter."
"Your daughter." The explanation seemed almost too outlandish to be true. Lil was a conniver. A trickster. A caricature. Women like Lil couldn't have daughters; god help the men surrounding them if they did. "You have a daughter?"
"No," Lil said, her eyes etched with sadness. "I did. I don't anymore." Taking a sip of her coffee, she cast her gaze upon the wall and seemed to think about something before continuing. "I'm going to do you a kindness." She looked at Ben again. "I'm going to connect some dots for you, because god knows I don't think you'll become privy to them otherwise. Eddie was my daughter. She married your son. Together they adopted Peggy and brought two children into this world. You are Noah's grandfather, and I am his grandmother. That's why I'm here. I came to make sure things were going as well as could be expected under the circumstances, and to offer my help, because that's what family does when there's been loss."
"Eddie is gone," Ben said sadly. Though he had not had a name to call his son's wife, he had suspected she had passed. It still hurt to hear, though. It hurt to know Adam had loved and then lost, and was being forced to endure what his father had somehow managed to live through three times. "How…?" he began and then ceased, rethinking his impending query before voicing it again. "How long has it been?"
For a moment, Lil appeared too heartbroken to reply. "Not long," she eventually managed. "Not long at all."
"I'm sorry."
"You're lucky to be blessed with so many children, so many sons who want to build their lives around yours. Adam may have been gone for a while, but he came back, because he knows the importance of family. I suppose, so do I, because, truthfully, I did not come here because I think Adam, Peggy, and Noah need me. I'm the one that needs them. Our house in San Francisco was once so full and now it's so empty. I can't stand the quiet. I can't stand the—" Inhaling a thickened breath, Lil's eyes shined with tears and she did not continue.
Ben did not need further explanation to understand. He may not know what it was like to be forced to live through the death of one of his children, but he knew the depth of the pain that accompanied loss. She had told him a lot, and for the moment it was enough. He did not want her to offer up anything else; he wanted to give her something instead. He extended his hand across the tabletop and she took it, and they sat together, their grief somehow shared, their thoughts their own as they finished their coffee in silence.
And as he considered and then reconsidered what she had told him, Ben did not have the heart to press Lil for more information, further clarification of the one statement that seemed destined to haunt him, embedding into his heart and soul a unique and powerful anguish.
Two children. Lil had said Adam and Eddie had brought two children into the world, and Adam was in the company of only one.
He could have asked Lil for further clarification, but he did not. It hardly seemed right considering how upset she had become—how upset Adam could become at her if he discovered the things she had shared. No, if Ben was to glean more information about Adam's family, then they were details for his son to share, in his own time and way.
He sat with Lil until Noah awoke from his nap. Lifting his grandson high into the air, he took comfort in the child's gleeful grin, the happiness etched upon his young face, and his bout of silent yet contagious laughter. He hugged him tightly before handing him over to his grandmother and taking his leave.
Traveling the thoroughfare, his walk was without thought or premeditated purpose. His steps did not take him closer to where he had left his horse; they took him through the front door of the sheriff's office.
Adam had traded his chair on the porch of his home for the one behind his desk, the book he had been reading for a stack of WANTED bulletins; the look of exasperation he cast his father had remained the same. "I thought I told you not to follow me," he said.
"It's Sunday," Ben said as though that should explain everything.
To Adam, it seemed to explain nothing. "So?"
"So, I would very much like it if you, your children, and Lil came to the Ponderosa for dinner tonight."
Adam frowned. "Look, I don't really want to put my children in a situation where they are likely to be exposed to the tension between us. It's better if you and I continue on as is, seeing each other as little as possible."
"No, it isn't, and you know it's not. If you don't want to talk about the past, then fine. I'll put away what I want to tell you until you are in a place where you want to hear it. But you didn't come back here to stay away from your brothers, or me. If you really wanted that then you would not have come back at all. You would have found somewhere else to live."
"And you know this how?"
"From experience," Ben said simply. "You think I don't know what it feels like to feel confined by the father I was born to, imprisoned by my family name, I assure you I do. But there's a difference between you and me, the things that drove us away from the places we once called home. I never went back. No matter how bad things were, no matter how much pain I was in, I never wanted to look back. You do, because you are here."
"You think that makes you better than me?" Adam asked. "Stronger?"
"No, it makes me worse. Weaker, because I run away, Adam. You never do. You never really have. From the day you came back, I've been running from you, the truth of what happened between us and why, because I didn't want to see it. I didn't want to bring back all that pain. What I failed to see is that you still have to live with it, because of what happened, because of what some folks around here might still think of you, because of what my actions must have made you think I thought of you. Coming back, serving this town in the capacity you do while holding your head high and standing tall, is not an easy thing to do. But you do it."
Adam did not respond as Ben paused, collecting his thoughts for the first time since entering the room, and, as Ben opened his mouth once more, Adam did not stop him from speaking again.
"I know there are countless things we need to talk about, things that aren't going to magically go away because we want them to. There are certain tensions, hurts that aren't going to heal without being properly addressed. I don't think you want to know that, but I think you do. I also think a part of you isn't ready and that's why you have no desire to discuss the subject. I think you need time to sort through it all."
"Oh, Pa," Adam said, his voice deep, gravelly, and laced with condescension. "I've had six years. If something does not change in that amount of time then it is unwise to think it ever will. You say what you say like it's supposed to matter to me. Like you telling me stories about why you protected Will is going to change the fact that you did in the first place. It won't; it can't. Peggy may forgive you for not protecting her better, but I never will. You stand there and you act like you know certain things about certain things all-the-while ignoring the one fact staring you in the face: I'm not the man you once knew. You cannot judge any of my current behavior based on how I was in the past. The past changed everything; it sure as shit changed me. You think coming back here was an act of bravery? It wasn't. All time does is make fools out of all of us. Turns out, I'm a runner just like you."
"I don't believe that."
"I don't care what you believe."
"I know."
"Then why are you here?"
"I would like to see you at dinner tonight," Ben said, his tone even and mild. "We sit down at six o'clock. I promise, all discussion will be kept amicable. If you don't want to talk about the past that's fine. Then let's allow our current actions to reinforce our current words as we truly focus on the present and future and stop allowing the bad memories to influence the good in front of us."
He did not wait for the invitation to be accepted or declined as he exited the office. Stepping back into the thoroughfare, he could not help wondering what his son would do, and what, if anything, the evening would bring.
TBC