Chapter Twenty

Benjamin stood at the window of the suite that had become his second home in the last several weeks, watching the snow come down so fast that the Hartford DPW trucks couldn"t keep up with the accumulation. He"d spent so much time at the Crowne Plaza since the shooting, he"d permanently reserved the room so he could come and go as he pleased.

Despite the warmth in the room, a raw cold sat in the center of his chest. It had started as a nugget of ice lodged beside his heart, and had grown steadily for three days.

He"d taken some of the four months of vacation time he"d accrued and never used to be in Hartford during Jon Roth"s criminal trial. The same influence Jon Roth had used to get a bail hearing rushed through pushed his trial for attempted murder on the fast track, and now on day three of the trial he could be sentenced and imprisoned by Christmas.

For three days, Benjamin had sat in the courtroom and learned the sordid, dark details of a life both foreign and all too real to him. The prosecution did their job without restraint, pulling out of the deepest, darkest corners of the model of dysfunction that was the Roth household. They painted a picture of a drunk, a man losing his business, a man pushed to his limits who finally snapped and lashed out. While they conceded that Victoria had not been the object of his rage, or the intended target for his bullet, she was the ultimate victim. They argued that a man who would pull a weapon with his child in the line of fire was a man who couldn"t be trusted to exist in society, a man who wouldn"t hesitate to take out his vengeance on anyone who stood in his way.

The defense took another approach, and as would be expected by the legal team defending Jon Roth, they painted a picture of a victim. A man pushed to his limits, a man who could not be expected to bend and finally break under the strain of a crumbling life.

Forever to be documented in the tomes of judicial history, they told the story of a young man who worked hard to create a life for his wife. A man who built a business with a partner and friend he trusted, only to be betrayed by that same friend. They portrayed Ben Prescott as a user, a backstabber, and a heartless bastard who seduced his best friend"s wife the night before his own wedding. A man who never claimed responsibility for his transgressions.

Jon Roth was an honorable man if his legal council was to be believed. He hadn"t wavered in his love when he learned his son, his first child, was Deaf. He"d given his whole heart to helping his son. When he learned his firstborn child was not his child at all, he reacted with more restraint than any man could be expected to have. He had decided to save his family from disgrace by raising the boy as his own.

Throughout the entire testimony, Benjamin was never identified by name. The defense attorney told Benjamin it was to prevent the jury from connecting Benjamin with his natural father in any positive light. During cross testimony, the prosecuting attorney did just the opposite, continuously naming Benjamin and pointing out the wrath he had suffered at the hands of his "honorable" and "respectable" father.

By the end of the three days, Benjamin"s head pounded from grinding his teeth and his hands ached from clenching his fists.

No matter how he looked at it, he was the source of everything. It didn"t matter that he hadn"t asked to be conceived, he didn"t ask to be the product of his mother"s infidelity, and he didn"t ask to be a constant reminder to the man who "claimed" him.

To the prosecution, Benjamin"s existence was just an excuse for Jon Roth"s abhorrent behavior. To the defense, Benjamin was a burden that finally pushed Jon Roth past his breaking point, and Victoria was the innocent victim of years of strain and stress on her father.

Benjamin hung his head and closed his eyes, resting his forehead against the cold window. A tight headache pulled from his temples along the back of his head and down to the tense knots that twisted his shoulders.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, but he didn"t reach for it. He knew who it was. The same person who had texted him several times in the last day and a half. The same person he couldn"t bring himself to answer.

Jewell.

He couldn"t bring himself to answer her. Couldn"t put on a convincing enough fa?ade to make her believe everything was going fine, that he could look himself in the mirror without feeling…disgust? Anger? He didn"t even know, so he hadn"t looked in two days.

Benjamin figured a therapist would have a field day with him.

Not willing to risk a trip on the road, and knowing he had to eat something more than the bagel he"d grabbed that morning with his coffee, he decided to head down to the lobby for a late dinner. He wasn"t a fan of "fusion" cuisine, but they had a full bar.

He was on his second scotch when he looked up and saw Ben Prescott weaving his way through the restaurant to the back table Benjamin had chosen. Catching his waiter"s eye, Benjamin held up his glass and tapped it with his finger. The waiter nodded and moved off to bring him another. He"d probably need a double after this conversation.

Prescott sat across from him without invitation. When the waiter returned with Benjamin"s scotch, Prescott ordered the same. Except he ordered the double Benjamin wished he had. Done with the walnut salmon he"d ordered, with barely a third of it gone, he pushed the plate away and wiped his lips, tossing the napkin on the table. Prescott didn"t say anything until his drink arrived. Even then, he swallowed half and set the glass down with enough force to vibrate through the table.

As far back as he could remember, Benjamin wished he had no father. He never went so far as to admit—even to himself—that he wished Jon Roth dead, but he would have willingly accepted just about any scenario that freed him from the hatred and abuse for which he was the main target. Now, Jon Roth was only the name on his birth certificate and Ben Prescott was the father who walked away. Neither of them wanted him, and he wanted neither one of them.

Prescott finally lifted his head, the red rims around his eyes obvious under the restaurant lights. He picked up the scotch glass again, swirling the amber liquid in the bottom of the glass. "I"m sorry you"ve had to hear?—"

Benjamin raised his hand, cutting off whatever apology or explanation Prescott might offer. "Did you come here for a reason, Prescott?"

Prescott shrugged and downed the last of the scotch. "I don"t know. I just…I told Barbara I"d come check on you."

"Why?"

Prescott finally looked straight at him, but only held the stare for a few seconds before he looked away. "We—your mother and I—we didn"t want things to happen this way. We didn"t want?—"

"You didn"t want everyone to know your dirty little secret, including your dirty little secret."

"It"s not like that, Benjamin."

"Just exactly what is it like?" Before Prescott could speak, Benjamin stood and took his wallet from his pocket, tossing four twenties on the table, then added another ten to make sure Prescott"s drink was covered. "You know what, Prescott? I don"t care enough to hear whatever excuse or reason or justification you may have convinced yourself made this okay somehow."

His "father" didn"t follow him into the lobby. Instead of walking to the bank of elevators leading to his room, Benjamin strode across the marble tile lobby and straight into the storm. Left or right, it didn"t matter. He just started walking.

* * *

Jewell unlocked the suite door and pocketed the extra keycard, dragging her small suitcase in behind her. The drive from Boston had been challenging, to say the least, especially once she hit the Connecticut border. Travis Traynor had decided around noon to let everyone leave early, and give everyone but essential personnel the next day off—extending the already extended Christmas holiday. Jewell wasn"t sure she"d ever packed so fast, thinking only one thing. Get to Hartford and be with Benjamin for what would hopefully be the last day of Jon Roth"s trial.

She"d tried to reach him since leaving Bulwark, but just like the last two days, Benjamin didn"t answer any of her texts. She only hoped the worst of scenarios running through her head weren"t reality.

Leaving her suitcase in the main sitting area, she shrugged off her heavy coat and glanced around, searching for him in the large room. When she didn"t find him there, she moved into the bedroom, even glancing into the bathroom. With no sign of him, Jewell sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, running her hand over her hair. Enough snow had accumulated in her hair just coming from the car to dampen her curls and make them twist into tight ringlets around her face.

Fighting the nervous energy that had been building just beneath her skin for two days, Jewell stood and went to the window. The snow was really coming down, and now that she saw the storm from this perspective, she was amazed she"d made it without going off the road. The daughter of a friend of her mother"s had been in an awful accident the year before in the middle of a Nor"easter, and had nearly died. Since then, Jewell"s mother had begged her not to drive in weather like this.

With a deep sigh, Jewell turned away from the window. She gasped and jumped back when she saw Benjamin standing just inside the suite door, watching her. His hair was wet and smattered with snowflakes, and the shoulders of his shirt were soaked through as though he"d been in the storm without a coat. Jewell pressed her hand over her heart.

"Benjamin, you frightened me," she signed as she crossed to him, a smile spreading her lips as relief washed over her like a cool wave. "Where were you?"

He stared hard at her, his eyes never leaving her face as she walked to him. It wasn"t the cold stare of anger, or the tense stare of thought, but something she didn"t know or understand. Suddenly, Jewell was afraid. The worst part was that she didn"t know what she was afraid of.

She stopped and touched her palm to his chest. Cold emanated from him. His heart pounded hard and fast beneath her hand. "Benjamin? What is it? What"s wrong?"

He covered her hand with his own and wrapped his arm around her body, pulling her close. As his eyes skimmed over her face, gooseflesh spread out over her arms and body. His fingertips curled and pressed into her spine. She didn"t know why, but tears burned behind her eyes.

"Benjamin, please."

He snatched the words from her lips with a devouring kiss desperate in its intensity. Jewell had to wrap her hands behind his neck just to hold on. His tongue delved into her mouth and his arms held her so tight it stole her breath. Just as suddenly as the kiss began, he broke away and buried his shocking cold face into her hair and against the curve of her neck.

Jewell pushed her fingers into his damp hair and held him, her own heart now pounding at a ferocious pace. What happened? What had him acting this way?

Benjamin mumbled against her throat, and Jewell strained to hear him. When she did, her thundering pulse nearly stopped.

"I love you," he whispered again and again.

Jewell swallowed, her throat suddenly parched, and reluctantly pulled back, urging him to raise his head with her touch. His smoldering brown eyes met hers, and what she saw was pain. As much pain as when Victoria was shot.

"Benjamin, please," she forced out, thankful he didn"t need to hear the weak quiver in her voice. "Tell me what is going on."

"I love you, Jewell."

Tears momentarily blurred his face, but she blinked them away. "I love you, too."

He shook his head, a sad, slow action. "Soon, I think you"ll hate me."

So many thoughts rushed her mind, Jewell couldn"t begin to decipher them or pull them apart to make sense of any of them. She held his face in her hands, his skin still cold from the winter wind.

"Benjamin, nothing could ever make me hate you."

His arms dropped and he stepped away to stand behind the same chair his mother had sat in the night when she and Ben Prescott told him the truth. He clutched the back until his knuckles whitened and his head dropped, golden brown waves of hair falling forward. Benjamin spoke, his head still down, and Jewell knew it was to avoid any interruptions. If he couldn"t read her lips or see her signs, she couldn"t speak.

"You have changed me," he said in a strained voice, even the soft quality of his speech sounding hard. "I wasn"t looking to fall in love. Didn"t want to fall in love. Never considered falling in love. But I have, and it happened so easily."

Tears fell from Jewell"s eyes, but she made no effort to wipe them away. She crossed her arms over her body and waited. Waited for whatever bomb he was going to drop. There was one coming. Jewell knew it just as surely as she knew her own name.

He slammed the heel of his hand against the chair"s back and Jewell could see a tense muscle jump along his jaw. Jewell took a step toward him but his hand shot up in an indisputable sign for her to stop. She held her breath, waiting.

"I can"t ask you to be a part of my life. It is too twisted and too hard."

Jewell shook her head back and forth, slowly. Words formed on her lips as realization sank in. Her stomach flipped. "No," she whispered pointlessly.

"I don"t know who I am anymore. I don"t know what I am. Everything I ever thought has been thrown in a blender and shredded. How can I expect you to love me? How can you even know who I am when I don"t know who I am?"

Jewell ignored his silent request to stay away. She moved to him and pushed his shoulder to make him stand and face her. The anguish in his expression was excruciating to her.

"Stop it," she demanded.

"I can"t. This is…this is what I have to do."

"Benjamin, this is crazy. You just told me you love me, and now you"re saying you want to end it?"

"I don"t want to."

"Then don"t." It was all Jewell could do to keep herself from screaming.

Benjamin grasped her face with his hands, his fingers pushing into her hair and his palms cold and damp against her cheeks.

"Tell me who I am, Jewell. Am I Benjamin Prescott Roth or am I Ben Prescott Junior?"

"I love you, not your name."

"But isn"t that who I am?"

Jewell pushed back, anger flashing in to mix with the tumult of emotions raging through her. "Who do you love, Benjamin?"

He stared at her, furrows creasing his brow, and he shook his head slowly.

"Are you in love with Frances Louise Shackley?"

The furrows deepened and his eyes squinted. "Who the hell is Frances Louise Shackley?"

"I am."

"What the hell are you—" he began but stopped as understanding crossed his expression.

"Yeah," she shot back. "Tell me again how much a name means. Do you love me—Jewell Kincaid? Or do you love Frances Shackley? Would you love me if you knew me as Frances?"

He nodded slowly. "Of course, I would."

"Then why don"t you believe I can love you?"

Benjamin pressed his fists against his eyes and sank into a chair. "I don"t know. I don"t know," he mumbled over and over again.

Jewell dropped to her knees and knelt before him, pulling his hands from his face. "Benjamin, don"t worry about me. Don"t worry about my ability to love you. I love you, that is all you need to know. I can handle whatever happens because I know we are doing it together."

"You shouldn"t have to handle it."

"Neither should you. But you are. And so am I."

"Jewell, I don"t know if I can get beyond the things that happened when I was a kid. They made me who I am?—"

She covered his lips with a finger. "Yes, they did. And I love the man you are."

"But I might have been a different man if they hadn"t."

Jewell nodded. "You might have, that"s true. You might have been a worse man. A man I would have never known. Benjamin, we can"t live around what-ifs. What if my mother hadn"t been an addict? What if she hadn"t given me up? What if I grew up in a home of drugs and abuse? What if Cecil and Opal Kincaid weren"t the ones who adopted me? Don"t you see? Everything that happens can go another way. Every choice we make affects the rest of our lives. Everything, everything has brought us here. Brought us together."

He touched her cheek with his fingers. Jewell clutched his fingers to turn into his hand and kiss his palm. Benjamin leaned forward and gently touched his lips to hers. Relief burst in her chest and spread out through her limbs. She closed her eyes and relished the kiss.

Then it was over. Benjamin stood, pulling her to her feet. The loss of his touch and sudden position change made her dizzy. He held her hand for a moment, squeezed her fingers, then released her and walked to the door leading out of the suite. He pressed his hand high up on the doorjamb and leaned into his arm. Jewell watched him, waiting for him to turn and gift her with the smile that always made her knees weak.

He did turn, but there was no smile. Benjamin took in a long, slow breath that pushed up his shoulders and expanded his chest.

"I contacted Travis at home. I tried to give my notice, but he refused to accept it. So, I"m taking a leave of absence. I don"t know how long."

"Where are you going?" she whispered, her throat so tight the sound barely escaped.

"Nowhere. I"m staying here in Hartford for the trial. I"m going to bring Victoria back to Boston when the trial is over. If she"ll come me now that?—"

"Benjamin, please don"t do this."

"I have to. I don"t know how else to say it."

She took a step toward him, but he stepped back and opened the door. Benjamin held her stare for several seconds, and the tears flowed down Jewell"s cheeks. He pressed his eyes closed and placed his hand over his heart, then brought his other arm across in a far more intimate sign for love, signed "forever," and then he was gone, closing the door behind him.

A harsh burst of air ripped into Jewell"s lungs and she stumbled back to fall into the chair behind her. She sucked in her breath, trying to stop the dizzy whirl of the room around her as a sob racked her body. Jewell buried her face in her hands and cried.

When she"d cried herself dry, she drew in a shaky breath and rose to her feet. She"d come to Hartford for a reason, and she"d be damned if she"d do anything less. With her heart aching in her chest, she retrieved her coat and suitcase and left the suite. Hopefully, the hotel had an empty room that wouldn"t cost her a week"s salary.