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He cradled her face in his hands, tried to smile, and looked beyond her to Victoria. His sister stood near the window, looking out. Moisture glistened on her cheeks and she held a tissue to her lips. As he watched, she sank into a chair and rested her head against the high back. How much more chaos could Jonathan Roth create? Benjamin looked back to Jewell.
"Are you okay?" he asked. "Did he hurt you?"
Jewell shook her head within his grasp. "No. Benjamin, what is going on? Was that your father?"
He nodded, ashamed to admit a link to the man, though it was only biological. "I'm sorry you had to be here for any of that. I never expected him to show up here."
Victoria stood and walked to them. "They left. I watched them get in their car."
Benjamin pulled his sister against his side and kissed her forehead. "When there was no one left to fight, it wasn't worth sticking around." He stepped back from both women and sighed. "This isn't the way I wanted it. Jewell, this is my sister Victoria. Victoria, this is Jewell Kincaid."
Both Victoria and Jewell smiled and exchanged brief greetings between them. Then both snapped their heads around to look towards the door leading to the hall. Victoria turned back.
"There's someone at the door. It might be Dillon."
Benjamin signed for them both to stay put and headed back out. He highly doubted his father would come back to continue the fight, but would rather be safe than sorry. There was no need for either Jewell or Victoria to deal with Jon's arrogance and antagonism again. The light in the hall blinked slowly, indicating a more rational suppression of the button outside.
Benjamin stepped on the broken vase in the hall, feeling it crunch beneath the soles of his shoes, and opened the door. Dillon Ferguson stood outside, a wide smile on his face. As soon as he took in the state of the front hall, and most likely the dark expression on Benjamin's face, his smile faded.
"What's wrong?" Dillon asked.
Benjamin motioned his sister's fiancé into the house. With a glance up and down the street to look for his parent's white BMW, he shut the door. He kicked some of the vase against the wall. Dillon looked down and moved some of the pottery with the toe of his shoe. Confusion pulled his eyebrows together when he looked back at Benjamin.
"Victoria is in the den. Our parents were just here."
"Oh, shit."
Benjamin nodded, agreeing with Dillon's sentiment. Victoria came out the den door and jumped into Dillon's arms. The tall, dark-haired man Benjamin had known since childhood embraced Victoria and kissed her hair. He saw them speaking but didn’t attempt to understand any of it. Jewell now stood in the doorway of the den and watched. Her face still read of concern and alarm.
"You two go. Get out of this house for a while. Try to enjoy the rest of the night," Benjamin told them.
Victoria wiped again at her cheeks and nodded. "Yes, okay. Ben, I'm sorry for causing so much trouble."
He shook his head and held up his hand. "No. That bastard caused the trouble, Vicki, not you."
Her eyes were sad and angry, but she gave him a watery smile and nodded. Victoria stepped away from Dillon and turned to Jewell, squeezing her hand.
"I'm sorry you walked in on our dysfunctional family. Trouble seems to follow us everywhere. Don't let it discourage you."
Jewell shook her head and touched his sister's arm. Victoria and Dillon joined hands and headed for the door. Benjamin released a long sigh and crossed his arms over his chest as the door shut behind them. The shattered vase shouted out a violent reminder of the hostile pandemonium that followed his father like a plague of pestilence. Deep gouges now scarred the high polish of his hardwood floor. He closed his eyes and leaned into the wall. His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to ward off the growing headache behind his eyes.
This wasn't exactly the way he thought the evening would go. Benjamin hoped for something more along the lines of a short dinner and a quick exit to the living room couch. Holding Jewell in his arms for three, four, or twenty-four, hours would do wonders to elevate his mood.
Thinking of her, he opened his eyes, surprised to see Jewell crouched near the door with a hand broom and dustpan in hand. She balanced on the balls of her feet and swept the bits of broken pottery into the pan.
He stepped forward and stooped down beside her. "I'll get this," he signed and took the half-full dustpan from her.
"I broke it. I'll clean it up."
A jolt of anger pummeled him and he grabbed at the dustpan. "You had nothing to do with it," he said through a clenched jaw.
Her expression darkened and he saw moisture build in her brilliant green eyes. It just fed the anger smoldering inside. His father was such an asshole the effects of his rampages lingered even when he was gone. Anyone and anything that brought tears to those beautiful eyes deserved to be hurt the same way. Whether it was him, his father, or anyone else. For Jewell's sake, he bit back the anger and circled his fist on his chest in apology.
She nodded and gave his hand a quick squeeze. Jewell refused to give him the broom, but brushed it across the floor and added the final remnants to those in the pan as he held it. With all bits off the hardwood, she allowed him to take the small whisk. Benjamin indicated with a tilt of his head for her to follow him into the kitchen. Once there, he dumped the trash into his compactor and hung the items back in the small closet where Jewell had found them.
When he turned back, Jewell stood near the sink, her hand resting on the counter edge. She'd left her hair loose except for two narrow braids she'd pulled back from her temples to clip at her crown. On any other woman, the dark brown of her v-neck sweater might seem plain. On Jewell, it deepened the auburn of her hair and accentuated her pale skin and freckles. He indulged in a few moments of just looking at her.
"Dinner smells wonderful," she signed, rubbing her hand over her stomach.
