A Getaway by LynnE

Chapter 6

Nothing had been settled that evening, or the next day. When the limousine came from the office to take Meg to the airport, the tension was still thick in the air.

* * * * * * *

The night before, Ben had stayed downstairs for hours, only venturing back to their bedroom when it was very late. He found Meg asleep. Quietly, he stripped and lay down next to her. She turned towards him as he got into bed, resting her arm across his chest. He took her hand.

Ben stared at the ceiling for an hour, until exhaustion overtook him, wondering how it all had gone so wrong.

* * * * * *

The next afternoon Ben helped Meg bring down her bags, and helped the limo driver load them. When it was done, he turned impulsively to Meg. "Let me go with you to the plane," he offered.

Maria interrupted, "Ben, did you forget? We have an appointment this afternoon for Benjy's day camp." She turned to Meg, smiling apologetically, "Dr. Estrada thinks Benjy should spend time with children his own age. And she thinks it's better if Ben and I make these decisions together."

"I understand. It doesn't matter." She got into the car.

Ben bent to the window. "Call me with your number as soon as you get there. Have a good flight." He kissed her softly. "I love you, Meg."

Maria flinched.

"I'll call you," Meg replied. The limo drove away. Ben watched, sadly, until it was out of sight.


First class is a great way to travel, Meg thought, as she accepted another smoked salmon canapé. They were flying non-stop, and the movie, "Shakespeare in Love" had been wonderful. Ben would have loved this. They hadn't been to the movies in months, Meg thought. She gave herself a mental shake, and applied herself to the files one more time.

Chapter 7

It was a balmy 73 degrees in Hamilton, Bermuda, with a light breeze. Meg's driver was waiting. She shook hands with Harold Barnhart, and he carried her bags to what looked like a London taxicab.

"That's what it is, Miss. Here in Bermuda, we are taxed by engine capacity. Those big limousines are horribly expensive to own and maintain." He paused, doubtfully, "But if you want, I'll call the garage. We do have one."

"No, don't. This is so adorable. Let's keep it."

"Are you sure, Miss? I want you to be comfortable." He spoke with a fatherly concern to which his 60 years entitled him. She felt happier than she'd been in months already.

"I'm very sure, Mr. Barnhart. I am comfortable, and my name is Meg."

They motored away sedately. Meg enjoyed the feeling of being perched high above the road. As they made their way through Hamilton, Harold Barnhart pointed out all the sights, the old Anglican church, the Legislature, the Governor's compound. He discoursed on the best shops and restaurants and the best beaches. In all too short a time, they pulled into the driveway of her hotel, in the hills just above town.

The Roseden was an unusual hotel. It had been built at the turn of the century, as a private home belonging to the family which owned Bermuda's largest baking concern. Since just after World War II, it had been a hotel. The white ginger-bready main building had the offices and suites, while behind that, hidden from view, were a garden, a swimming pool and more conventional blocks of rooms.

A dozen or so other guests were lounging on the wooden porch, as drinks were being handed round and a trio played island music.

"No, no dearie, just enjoy the party," said the motherly clerk as Meg tried to check in. "Leave the bags and we'll send them up in a while. Go on! Have a drink and relax."

Meg went back out and did just that, after arranging for Mr. Barnhart to come back in the morning to take her to her meeting.
It was a treat to put her feet up and rest, rum swizzle in hand, chatting with the other guests. There were honeymooners (Frank and Cathy Wright, from Harlingen, Texas), long-time Bermuda vacationers (the Budds, the Weiskopfs, Mrs. Clifford), other business travelers (Mr. Hutchens, who sold greeting cards; Mr. Frye, the bank examiner), first-time vacationers (the Jacobsons from New York City), a congenial bunch. Some had been there a while, some, like Meg, had just arrived. They were unanimous in their delight with the people and the place.

After an hour or so, the trio took their leave and the party broke up. Meg declined an invitation to join some of the others for a late dip. It had been a long day.

When she went back to the desk, she found her bags were gone. "Oh, it's all right, dearie," explained Mrs. Wynters, the clerk, "They're upstairs waiting for you. Just sign here." Meg signed and was given the key to her suite. "It's just at the top of the stairs on the left. It says 'White Rose Suite'."

Meg smiled her thanks and went up. Whose idea was it to put her there? she wondered.

The suite was lovely, full of mellow antiques, and the bed was covered in an exquisite, white-on-white embroidered spread. The curtains were lace overlaid with white rose damask swags. Meg had never seen anything so pretty. There was a big bouquet of white roses in a vase on the desk. Her heart leaped at the sight.

How had he known? she wondered. She opened the card. "Compliments of the Management," it was signed, "Welcome to the White Rose Suite."

Chapter 8

Ben tried very hard to pay attention to what the day camp supervisor was saying. Something about nap schedules? He couldn't concentrate, so he let Maria do all the talking, while his thoughts drifted three thousand miles to the east.

He pictured Meg in a pretty sundress, with a big hat, strolling through the beautiful Botanical Gardens; then he saw her in a bikini, swimming in the clear Atlantic waters; he envisioned her on Front Street, window-shopping. Ben saw himself buying her a wonderful gift and Meg protesting about the cost. He smiled, never noticing Maria's glare.

"Ben!" Maria's voice grated in his ear, "pay some attention, this is costing us enough."

There is no US, he thought savagely. I made the biggest mistake of my life moving you in and I'm paying for it with a hell of a lot more than money.

In the end he found himself agreeing to everything Maria and the supervisor decided, writing an enormous check, and leaving as fast as he could. "Take Benjy home by cab," he told her, "I have to go to the Deep."

"Aren't you coming home to have dinner? Mama's coming."

"Dammit Maria! What did I tell you about bringing your mother over?" He was fuming now.

"Lower your voice, Ben! Tess will be there, and Mama has agreed to dress down and to leave her cards at home. Everything will be fine." Maria had never been less attractive, with her sour face and hectoring voice.

"Look, I have work to do. If you want to send Benjy to that high-and-mighty, socially-advantageous day camp, someone's got to pay for it." I can't believe it, he added to himself, it doesn't cost much more than this for a year at Harvard. For good measure, he announced, "and I don't want to have dinner with your mother."

He hailed a cab and put Maria and Benjy in it. Then he left for Shock Wave, where he could have dinner with a mother he respected. Why hadn't Meg called?
At the Roseden, Meg swallowed her disappointment about the flowers and called her folks. Thankfully, her mother answered. She told Joan about her day and gave her the hotel's number. "I've got to go, Mom, it's getting late here and I still have another call to make before I can go over my paperwork for tomorrow's meeting and turn in. I love you, too. Bye."

She placed her next call to Ben's. Tess answered. She jotted down the number and wished Meg a successful stay.

"Thanks, Tess," she replied. "Tell Ben when you give him the number that I'll be up for a while, so he shouldn't be afraid to call me." Meg hung up, hoping to hear from Ben as soon as he got in.

* * * * * *


At Shock Wave, Hank Cummings eyed his erstwhile son-in-law suspiciously. "What do you want, Evans?"

Ben controlled his temper with an effort. "I thought perhaps a quiet dinner?"

"Isn't someplace fancy like Grenadine's more your style? Or what about eating at home? Don't you like your wife's cooking?"

"Meg's an excellent cook, as you know. But she's not home tonight, and Maria has invited her mother over." Ben looked at Hank with the air of a man appealing a death sentence.

Despite himself, Hank laughed. "I guess I can't blame you, can I?" He followed Ben to a table, poured him some coffee and handed over the menu. After a minute's hesitation, he surprised Ben by sitting down.

Hank got right to the point. "I don't hate you, Ben. I never have. If, all right, when, I've lost my temper it's because of the situation, not you. Ya see, Meg, she's my precious little girl," he choked up, then cleared his throat and went on, "and I can't stand seeing her hurting. It kills me, it just kills me, and I want it to stop. It's gotta stop, Ben."

Chapter 9

Maria came home feeling pretty pleased with herself. Oh, Ben was a little out of charity with her at the moment, but for now at least Meg was out of the way, and soon Benjy would be, too. This day camp would allow her the opportunity to resume her painting career, not to mention the good times with Annie. Tess would be there to look after the boy the rest of the time, so Maria could concentrate on turning back the calendar eight years, becoming the girl she used to be, and winning back the man she wanted. A pretty good afternoon's work, she thought.

Tess was waiting at home. She took Benjy upstairs to get him cleaned up for dinner. Maria headed for the kitchen to get it started. She noticed a note next to the phone. Meg's number in Bermuda, eh, she thought. She folded it into a poor approximation of a paper airplane and tossed it in the wastebasket. Ben certainly doesn't need that!


At Shock Wave, Ben struggled for an answer to Hank's plea. "I want our troubles to be over, too, Hank. Please believe me; all I've ever wanted was a quiet life, with Meg at the center of it. I don't derive any satisfaction out of watching Maria trying to get back into my life, and I know she's trying to use Benjy to do it. But he is my child. He's entitled to a father AND a mother. Even if she comes complete with Carmen." He sighed.

"I heard about that incident last night, from Joanie. What's with Carmen, anyway?" Hank asked.

"I don't know. She's always been melodramatic. To me it's only an irritation, but Benjy's scared to death of her."

"Yeah, he wants Joanie to be his grandma." Hank shook his head.

"To be honest," Ben replied, "I wanted that too, I mean I wanted Joan, and you, to be grandparents to my children. But that wasn't the hand we were dealt." He slumped back in his chair. Hank patted him on the shoulder.

Joan joined them, full of news. "Well, I heard from Meg. I wish I'd known you were here Ben, I could have put you on with her."

Ben shrugged, "It's on a par with the way my luck's been running lately. How is she?"

"Fine. The flight was great, and the hotel is lovely. She picked a small one, called the Roseden, ever heard of it?"

"I have, it's supposed to be very pretty and romantic. It's quite a favorite with honey- mooners." Ben put his elbows on the table and rested his head in his hands. This was one of the most depressing days he could remember.

Joan clucked sympathetically. "She said she called you, but you weren't home and she wasn't sure she could reach your cell phone, so she just left the number with Tess. Speaking of her, how's Benjy doing?"

Ben groaned, "Maria is having Carmen in to dinner. I'm sure he's miserable just now. I couldn't stand it myself, which is why I'm here." He laughed at himself, "I'm becoming quite the coward, afraid to turn up at my own house."

Joan smiled, "I don't blame you a bit." She paused, "If there's ever anything I can do… well, you know that." She got up briskly, "Never mind the menu, I'll bring you something terrific."

"Thanks, Joan, and thank you too," he said to Hank as the latter rose to attend to some customers.

"That's all right," Hank replied. He thought, I don't envy you the next few months. And I'm damned glad Meg is away at least for now.

Chapter 10

One in the morning, and still no word from Ben. Meg gave up, put away her paperwork and changed for bed. As she slid under the covers, she fantasized about the beautiful old bed and having Ben's company in it. His hands, his voice, the thoughts made Meg happy; she fell asleep smiling.

* * * * * * *


A little after ten, Ben turned the key in the front door, praying that dinner would be long over and Carmen long gone. His luck was in, the house was quiet. He went to the phone on his desk, but there was no sign of a note from Meg. Where could it be? He checked the desk, the wastepaper basket, the floor. "Damn!" he muttered. "Where is it?"

No time to look for it now, he thought, and called Shock Wave.

Hank gave Ben the number. He checked his watch, almost eleven o'clock, two in the morning in Bermuda. He couldn't call now. Ben took a fast look in on Benjy and went to bed in an ugly frame of mind.

* * * * * * *


Meg woke early to a beautiful, sun-splashed morning. She took a quick swim in the pool, showered and changed into her dark gray business suit. Breakfast at poolside, and at 8:30 on the dot, Mr. Barnhart picked her up and they were off.

Ben woke at 6 and rang the hotel, but Meg was already gone. Grinding his teeth, he left the first of what would be a day full of messages. Tess came downstairs and Ben set on her.

"I thought you left Meg's number by the phone."

"I did. Wasn't it there?"

"No, and you weren't around to ask."
Tess grimaced, "Everybody went to bed early last night. Dinner was a disaster."

"Not again. I thought Carmen was going to, I don't know, change her style."

"Well, she did, actually. She came minus the beads and the rest of her usual junk, and she was real quiet, but Benjy still wouldn't go near her." She sighed, "then, in the middle of dinner he announced that he wanted you. We called the Deep, but you weren't there, and you didn't have your cell phone. When we told him we couldn't find you, he insisted that you and Meg were together and he wanted both of you, and he wanted Mrs. Cummings for a grandmother, and then he threw in Mr. Cummings for a grandfather. It was a mess. Maria and her mother were furious. Benjy was such a brat; I've never seen him like this before."

Ben frowned. "This arrangement is not working, Tess."

"Tell me about it. You bring Benjy here, and then you spend as much time as possible out of the house. Talk about a mixed signal."

Ben stiffened. "That's enough. Perhaps you should be getting Benjy up?"

Tess disappeared upstairs. Ben paced the living room. He had to admit that Tess was right. He wasn't bonding with Benjy at all, not in any family context. Oh, it was pleasant enough when he had the boy to himself, but Benjy was picking up his and Maria's mutual resentment. Ben was sure that Maria had taken away the note, to keep him from contacting Meg. Maria carped constantly about Meg's presence and anything else that came to mind.

Ben hated her new attitude. Maria seemed so sure that being Benjy's mother was all she needed to reel him in. This wasn't the sweet girl he married years ago. And yes, Ben was backing away from her. He felt trapped, and with Meg gone, isolated.

What Meg found when she went to Hamilton to meet with the various contractors for the new Liberty Corporation resort did not surprise her. It was the usual collection of mostly middle aged men who were amazed at the appearance of Gregory's representative, a tiny woman with a soft voice. But what really amazed them was her grasp of the depth of the project's woes and her cool rejection of the various excuses offered for them. When she dismissed the landscaping firm, they really sat up and took notice.

"But," Mr. Hopkins, the general contractor, sputtered, "we've worked with them for years."

"And they have obviously gotten slack because of it. These plans are a mess, the estimates are a bad joke. The schedule is totally unrealistic. I'm surprised at you, sir. Didn't you examine their paperwork when you got it?"

"We only got it yesterday." He realized he'd made a bad mistake the moment he said it.

Meg shook her head. "And why is that? These plans were due months ago. As they stand they are slipshod, useless. Liberty Corporation has no intention of paying for this kind of…. " She searched for a word.

Tom Williams, the youngest member of the consortium piped up, "Trash?"

Back to fanfiction
Back to Eva's Sunset Beach Page
Back to Ben och Meg