Love Entwined (15 page)

“I can’t believe you actually remembered that small detail,” I said, surprise evident in my voice.

“We remember so much about you, Ireland. You’ve always held a special place in our hearts—all of our hearts,” she said, giving her son a knowing glance. “We can’t tell you how elated we both were when Bentley called us the morning after the wedding to tell us who he had run into. It’s such a small world really. What are the odds that our Ireland is Gregory’s wife’s best friend and maid of honor? You two have almost come full circle—first as ring bearer and flower girl and now as best man and maid of honor. Now we just need another wedding,” she added with a wink.

Bentley must have noticed the look of panic spreading across my face. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Mom.”

“What? I’m just stating the inevitable,” she said nonchalantly.

Thank god I hadn’t been drinking sangria at the time or it would’ve ended up all over Rita’s tablecloth.
Of course then maybe she wouldn’t be speaking of the “inevitable.”

We made it through the rest of dinner without any talk of a wedding. At least a marriage between Bentley and me. We went on to tell Rita and Martin all about Katie and Greg’s wedding. Hearing Bentley tell his mother about seeing me again after all those years sent chills up my spine. More than once, I wanted to fake an illness in hopes that we could head back to the cabin early and finish where we’d left off earlier in the day.

“You two have such a history with weddings. I remember your mother taking so many pictures of you two during your pretend nuptials.”

“She did? I would’ve loved to see those,” I said, with a hint of sadness. “I don’t really have many photos from my childhood. Just the few tiny pictures in the locket Bentley gave me when we were kids.”

“I wish I had them here, dear. I would love to see them again as well. I do believe there is a box somewhere back at the cabin though. You’re welcome to look for it.”

“Seriously, Mom? Is this your way of making Ireland clean out your old stuff?” Bentley chuckled.

“No, son. I just remember rescuing a box of photos among other things from the curb of Ireland’s house after the new owners began moving in. Ireland had already gone into foster care, and I didn’t have any way of seeing she got the items. I tried contacting social services, but they wouldn’t give me any information—all that red tape, you know,” Rita said, with a few tears welling in her eyes. “I always hoped she would come back into our lives, but after so many years I began to give up hope. I often considered tossing the box, but something always held me back. I realize now I was always right—you belong with us, Ireland.”

I swallowed back the lump in my throat and reached across the table to hug Rita.

“You’ll never know how much that means to me, Rita. For so many years, I’ve felt like I haven’t belonged anywhere. Tonight, I feel like I truly belong. I feel like I’m home,” I whispered, looking back at Bentley.

After I’d helped Rita wash up the dinner dishes and we were seated back in the living room, I could hardly focus on anything the rest of the evening. All I kept thinking about were the contents of that box and what might be packed inside. Bentley tried making small talk and including me in the conversation, but it was very evident my mind was someplace else entirely.

“Earth to Ireland,” he said, waving his hand in front of my face.

“What? I’m sorry. I guess I’m just tired after the long drive yesterday. I do apologize,” I said, sheepishly.

“No need to apologize, dear. Bentley, I think you need to get this girl tucked into bed. And, don’t keep her up all night,” she added with a wink.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mother.”

“Don’t give me that nonsense, son. Your father and I were young once, too.”

“OK, on that note, I think it’s about time for me to get this one back to the cabin,” he said, pointing in my direction.

“We’ll stop by again tomorrow before you leave for the hospital,” he said, standing to kiss his mother on the cheek.

We arrived back at the cabin shortly before nightfall. Bentley unlocked the door for me, before heading off to find some wood for a bonfire. I couldn’t forget the box of childhood items that Rita thought might be stored in the basement of the cabin. I probably should’ve waited for Bentley, but instead decided to head down to the basement on my own. Hopefully he wouldn’t feel I was overstepping my boundaries.

I opened up the door that led to the basement and flipped the light switch—darkness. Shit! A burnt out light bulb. I’ve never really been a big fan of basements. It seems like they’re always cold, damp, dark and filled with creepy crawlies.

Deciding to grin and bear it, I placed my hand on the railing. I ran quickly down the stairs—each step creaking below my feet—my only source of light coming from the hallway upstairs. Reaching the bottom, I walked head first into what felt like the mother of all cobwebs.
What did I tell you about creepy crawlies?
I was going to itch for the rest of the night.

Pulling the silky strands from my hair, I soon spotted what appeared to be a lamp in the opposite corner of the room. I crept over to the light, careful not to trip in the darkness, and turned the switch—again nothing. “Seriously? It’s like I’m in one of those cheesy horror movies. Jason is probably waiting for me on the other side of the room,” I said to myself.

Just then, I heard a creaking sound coming from back near the basement stairs. I bolted toward the steps, hoping it was just my imagination getting the best of me. I’d almost made it back to the landing when I ran smack dab into someone’s firm chest.

“Ahhhhhh,” I screamed. “Please don’t kill me with your chainsaw.”

The rock-hard chest began twitching and laughter soon erupted, making me realize I wasn’t dealing with Jason after-all.

“Bentley! You’re such an asshole. You scared the shit out of me. I thought you were still outside,” I screamed, smacking him in the chest.

“I got back a few minutes ago. I called for you a few times, but you didn’t answer. I saw the basement door was open so I came down to look for you. Why didn’t you turn any lights on?”

“Gee, lights? Why didn’t I think of that,” I answered with obvious sarcasm in my voice. “None of the damn things work, Bentley!”

Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved his cell phone. He tapped on the screen a few times before his flashlight app opened, producing a stream of light.

“Huh, why didn’t I think of that,” I chuckled.

“I don’t think the light bulbs are burnt out. It’s a blown fuse, no doubt,” he said, walking over to the circuit box. After dusting off the box and fidgeting around for a few minutes, the lights all came on.

“Just as I suspected,” he said.

“Well, aren’t you just Mr. Fix-it in the flesh,” I said, reaching up to give him a quick peck on the lips.

“Does that mean I’m forgiven for scaring you?” he asked.

“Not entirely, but you’re moving in the right direction,” I said with a wink. “Now help me find this box that your mom said was down here.”

After pulling down dozens of boxes and finding nothing but old Christmas decorations, we’d almost called it quits. I was just about to tell Bentley to call off the search when I spotted two boxes, with Bentley’s name written on them, on the top shelf of an old workstation.

“Do you think those could be the boxes,” I asked, sounding hopeful.

Bentley pulled down the first one, wiping away a layer of dust before opening the lid. I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. On the very top, lay the green checkered blanket from my childhood that I remembered so well. I reached for it and immediately brought it up to my nose. It was probably just my imagination, but I swear I could smell the floral perfume that my mother always wore, mixed with the woodsy scent that I always assumed was my father’s cologne.

“I can’t believe this has actually been here for nearly twenty years,” I said, tears now streaming down my cheeks. “I don’t know how I can ever thank your mother for this. It means so much more to me than words can even begin to express.”

“She knows, Ireland. I’m glad you accepted my invitation to come here this weekend,” he said, gently running his fingers through my hair.

Under the blanket were four photo albums. Setting the box on the floor, we knelt beside it before searching through the albums. I opened the first and was shocked to see pictures from my parents’ wedding.

“I remember my mom showing me these when I would ask her questions about my dad,” I said, running my fingers across the old prints. “I didn’t think I would ever see them again.”

Also inside the box was my father’s old police badge as well as photos of Bentley and me as children and then as teenagers. In some we were playing dress up and in others we were helping to build the tree house with Martin and my Uncle James.

My favorite was a small album filled with photos from our homecoming dance from my freshman year of high school. I looked so young in the photos—so carefree. I’d nearly forgotten that time in my life. So much of my teenage and young adult years had been filled with heartache. It wasn’t until I’d graduated from college and became a social worker that I actually found true happiness again—and even then something, or someone was still missing. I was starting to believe that Bentley always was that missing someone.

“Young love,” I said to Bentley who was looking over my shoulder. “I didn’t have a care in the world.”

“Your date was one lucky dude. He’s a stud, too, if I must say so myself,” he laughed.

“Full of yourself much?” I said, rolling my eyes. “I was so skinny. Someone should have fed me a cheeseburger.”

“You were just as beautiful then as you are now, Ireland,” he said, his eyes wandering to the dip in my shirt. “But, if I’m being honest, I do really love this more filled-out version of you.”

“I’m sure you do,” I laughed.

“I remember how excited I was when I found that dress. I wanted to look perfect for you,” I reminisced, lost in my own memories.

Bentley and I had hidden our relationship from our friends and parents for years before finally telling everyone the truth. I wanted to scream it from the rooftop from the moment Bentley and I kissed in the tree house, but he thought it would be best if we kept it as our little secret. I always thought it was because I was two years younger than Bentley and he didn’t want to admit to his friends that his girlfriend was just a kid. He insisted that he just didn’t want anything to change between us.

I was beyond ecstatic when I began my freshman year at Jefferson High and Bentley asked if he could officially call me his girlfriend and escort me to the homecoming dance. I’d waited for what seemed like forever to hear those words come from his mouth. Our friends acted surprised, but I knew they really weren’t. The two of us had been nearly inseparable since we’d met nearly seven years earlier.

Bentley’s mother was so excited when we told her. I think she was already envisioning our wedding and her future grandchildren while my mother was a bit hesitant about the entire romance.

I remember I nearly had to beg her to allow me to go the homecoming dance with Bentley.

“Please, Mom,” I begged, every night for nearly an entire week. “Please say you’ll let me go to the dance with Bentley. This is like a dream come true for me.”

“I just think you should go to the dance with your girlfriends, Ireland. You just started high school. You shouldn’t be in a serious relationship right now. You’ll have plenty of time for that stuff when you’re older.”

“Mom, I’ve loved Bentley for as long as I can remember. If you won’t let me go with Bentley, then I’m not going at all.”

“I hardly think you know what love is Ireland, but if you’re so sure you want to go to the dance with Bentley then I’ll allow it. But, you WILL come home immediately after the dance. I don’t want you out late, or going to any of those parties afterward.”

Although I wasn’t happy with her rules, she at least was letting me go to the dance and I wasn’t about to argue with her.

“Thank you, Mom,” I said, relieved. “Can we go shopping for a dress this weekend? I’ve saved my allowance. There’s a dress in the window of Mrs. Roberts’ boutique that I’ve had my eyes on for weeks. She’s been holding it for me.”

“Yes, I’ll see if I can take the day off on Saturday and we can go. I’ve got some money set aside for a special occasion such as this, though. I don’t expect you to spend your money.”

Just as she promised, Mom and I went to the boutique that weekend to try on dresses. After trying on about eight different styles and sizes, I went back to the first dress I tried on—the lavender, knee-length party dress with the sequined bodice.

I can still remember the look on Bentley’s face when he picked me up for the dance. He was dressed in a tuxedo with a vest and tie that matched the color of my dress. I giggled thinking that his mother had something to do with his choice of wardrobe. If it had been up to him, he would’ve picked me up wearing a pair of faded jeans and his worn football jersey.

“You look beautiful, Ireland,” he said, securing the purple and white corsage of roses and carnations on my wrist.