CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR Benedict

W alking on Main Street reminded me of the holidays in Time's Square, but on a much smaller scale. Plentywood's Chamber of Commerce had wrapped the light poles with tinsel rope and hung an elaborate holiday decoration at the top of each one. The charm effect for small-town America was off the charts.

A giant artificial tree had been erected in the town square the week after Thanksgiving. Hunt and I had gone to the lighting ceremony, holding hands and sipping hot chocolate with the other revelers. A few folks made a point to let me know they hadn't seen Hunt at any of the town's functions in quite a while. I knew it'd been two years, to be exact. Everything about Hunter Copeland was before two years ago, and then the Hunter Copeland ever since.

Hunter was reserved with his feelings concerning the upcoming holiday every time I brought the occasion up. If I'd thought that he was finally warming up to the idea of Christmas because we went to the tree lighting, I was wrong. It'd been two weeks since I walked out of his house because he couldn't imagine having a Christmas tree in it. He hadn't called. I hadn't called.

But Jill had called. Several times, in fact. And tonight, I was walking to the diner after business hours to speak with her. I could've driven considering the temperatures were below freezing, but I liked walks in the snow.

What Jill wanted to discuss was no secret. Her concerns and worries were shared by most people in town that knew about Hunt and me. Small towns were like that. Some would say nosy, but I had a kinder viewpoint. They simply cared.

Businesses were closed along the street, even Smitty's, since it was a weekday after nine PM. Wind blew small drifts of snow up Main Street, piling around the wheels of the few trucks parked in town. The night was quiet and eerie as I made my way to Jill's Diner. The silence enveloped me as I huddled tightly into my parka, my nose feeling icy.

The open sign was off when I walked through the front door. Jill peeked through the opening to the kitchen and smiled, placing a small, old-fashioned crockery bowl in the space before coming around to the dining area.

"Let me take your coat, Ben," she said, motioning to the nearest table. "I saved you a bean casserole. It's hot out of the oven," she added.

"You're a dear," I replied, rubbing my hands together and blowing on them. "You going to join me and eat something, too?"

"Just coffee for me," she answered. "You want a cup?" she asked, holding up the pot.

I nodded and waited for her to be seated. We both sipped on the steaming coffee and gazed at each other. She smiled nervously before clearing her throat.

"Nothing?" she asked.

"Nothing," I confirmed.

Her lips pursed as she appeared to not like my answer. "He's sliding backward again."

"Agnes said he isn't working," I offered. "Hasn't been seen around town either."

"He did finally text me he was fine. Whatever that means," she revealed, while I took another bite of her delicious recipe. "Maybe my threats to hate him for the rest of his life got him to respond."

Jill and I simultaneously looked down at the tabletop. Neither quite knew what to say about the current situation. After another minute, she broke the ice.

"Have you gone out to see him yet?" she asked, raising her hand immediately after asking. "I know. I know. It's none of my business and I'm pushing, but I'm just concerned," she confessed. "Even after Mark died, he'd let me come over to visit. He won't open up to me this time."

"Tell me about your brother," I inquired, shifting the focus. "I know he was a superstar in this town but tell me something about him that maybe nobody knows."

I figured she might need a minute to dig up a little known factoid, but she was preloaded with an answer. "He was controlling," she stated.

I found her answer surprising. I hadn't expected such a direct analysis of her own brother, but I had asked the question.

"How so?"

"Mark had strict rules that he lived by. He wanted things a certain way, and he refused to compromise about them," she said. "But I don't mean to infer that he was unkind. That wasn't it. But he really didn't like to do things any way but his way."

"How about you?" I asked. "How'd you fit in with a younger brother that was so particular?"

"We all just did what Mark wanted. Life was easier that way. Besides, he was usually right."

"And Hunt? How did he deal with Mark?"

Jill's brow furrowed as she thought about my question. "That's odd," she began. "I never thought about what Hunt did to keep Mark happy and in control."

"You've used the word control twice now, Jill."

"Mark was the planner. We all just went along," she said. "I loved my brother very much, but it was just easier to give into him. He was the baby of the family. And when our parents died, despite me being older, I let him make the decisions. He was better at those things."

"And Hunt? Did he depend on Mark to make all the decisions?"

It took exactly a half-second for Jill to answer. "Oh God, yes," she replied. "Hunt was lost during college. He almost didn't finish because he missed my brother so much, but of course, Mark insisted he stay and get a degree. Mark was an adult by then and wanted to set up a home as soon as Hunt returned. Hunter loved him so much that he did whatever Mark asked."

"And then Mark died," I whispered.

Jill's eyes misted over as she gazed at me. "And then Mark died," she parroted.

I leaned forward and waited for Jill to return from whatever memory she was recalling at that moment. "And what happened to Hunt after Mark died, Jill?"

"He was a mess, of course," she replied. "He was completely lost, for sure."

"Why do you think Hunter was so lost?" I pushed, knowing the answer the second I asked it.

"Well, because Mark was gone, I'd imagine," she answered. "Everything was yanked out from under him. His life wasn't the same."

"But why?" I grilled. "Grief is understandable, but why so lost , as you mentioned?"

Jill studied me carefully. She wasn't understanding my question, not realizing why Hunt may have never gotten past the sudden death of her brother. "Because he was sad?" she half asked, half stated. "I'm not sure I understand your question, Ben."

"I think Hunter is stuck because he doesn't know what to do now," I said. "I mean, think about it, Jill. He's never had to make decisions before. From high school to college. From college to marriage and a house. Hunter depended on Mark to set up each stage of their life. I'm not saying Mark was mean. Far from it, actually. I've heard nothing but wonderful things about your brother, but he led the way during Hunter and his relationship."

"Yeah," she agreed. "He did do that. Even in high school."

Jill was seeing the lightbulb that had just been lit in her mind, so I pushed on. "Hunt reluctantly finished college, right?" I asked. She nodded. "I'm guessing that he'd been miserable at college without Mark, right?" She agreed again. "Because Mark was not with him at college, I think Hunt was unsure of himself. But when he returned, he married the person who led the way, the one he loved. And there is nothing wrong with that," I added.

"And like all of us, Hunter already knew that Mark was a control freak," she said. "Hunt hates confrontation because he's mellow by nature. He was fine with Mark leading because Hunter is strong in other things. Mark loved the masculine man that Hunt is, but he did run basically everything about their lives."

"Can you see what I'm getting at?" I asked.

"Yes. Of course," she agreed. "God! Why didn't I see that? Hunter is unsure of what to do now that he's responsible for his own life," she added. Her eyes widened, and she made a circle with her mouth. "And all those stupid notes," she gasped. "And the silly routines he thinks he has to follow. Oh God, Ben. I should've known this."

"He needs help, Jill."

"Do you love him, Ben?"

"Yes," I confessed. "I do love him."

"Can you help him, then? I mean, I know that's hard if he won't open up, but we could let him know what we suspect, right? We could do that, right?"

"We, I mean, I could do that," I stated. "Give me until tomorrow," I suggested. "We need to be positive minded with an approach while not attacking him. If I've learned anything, Hunt is sensitive to those notes."

"Hunter loves you so much, Ben. I've never seen him like this. And his renewal began when you came to town. I think he truly sees a way forward with you. But I'm positive now that he doesn't know how to let Mark go. Or if he believes he is even allowed that option without hurting what they shared."

"He is allowed that option," I stated. "I just have to help him make that decision."