The Cult

I made Claire breakfast the next morning, but the first thing she asked when she stepped into the room was, “Where’s Daddy?”

“Work. He’ll be home soon.”

The disappointment was unmistakable, but she shrugged it off. She sat in the chair across from me and picked up her fork. With a wary gaze, she examined my overly runny eggs and big clumps of cheese that weren’t evenly spread over the food.

“I’m not as good of a cook as your father, obviously.”

She stabbed the fork into her food and ate without complaint. “It’s still good.”

I smiled, loving that sweetness she had, that she was mature enough to choose her words wisely instead of hurting my feelings.

I drank my coffee and picked at the eggs.

“When will he be home? He’s usually here when I wake up.”

“He’s working nights now. Might be this way for a while.”

“Oh. But you’ll be here?”

I nodded. “Yep.”

“You want to go see the ponies today?”

“Um, sure.” It was Saturday and she started school on Monday, so I wanted to take her to do something fun while I still could. “I’ll ask your dad when he gets home. Did he tell you that you’re going back to school on Monday?”

“I am?” Her fork dropped onto the plate with a loud clank. “Yes! I can’t wait to see Angelica and Linda.”

Her joy was infectious and always pulled me out of my bad moods. I was happy for her but also concerned for myself. Without her around, I wasn’t sure what I would do to keep busy. She’d been right at my side for a while now, and she’d become my crutch pretty quickly. It was easy for me to understand why Benton was so devastated when she was gone. It was also easy for me to understand why she was the only person in the world who could make him tolerable.

“And there’s Jeremy…I think he likes me.”

“Yeah?” I asked. “Why?”

“Because he gives me flowers.” She grinned down at her food, her cheeks a little flushed.

“You like him?”

“Gross! No.”

“Because it’s okay if you like him.”

She shook her head back and forth, over and over. “No, no, no.” She even waved her finger in front of my face.

Hopefully she didn’t like boys for a while, because I was certain that would put Benton through the wringer. “I had my first boyfriend in sixth grade.”

“But sixth grade is soooo old.”

“Ha,” I said with a laugh. “If you think that’s old, wait until you get to my age.”

The sound of the front door opening reached us both, because Claire dropped her fork again and turned in the direction of the sound. “Daddy?”

Benton’s voice carried to us. “Hey, sweetheart.” A smile was in his voice, and it matched the smile on his face when he emerged. His blue eyes were so beautiful when they were lit up like that. His face looked totally different too, a dimple in each cheek, a softness to his face. The hardness had been chipped away like stone, revealing the sculpture underneath. His eyes were on her, like I wasn’t even there.

All the weight left my shoulders the second he walked in the door. It’d been a long night for me, a restless one, listening hard to every creak, every drop of rain that hit the glass, every time the heater kicked on with a hum. The knife had been at my bedside, ready to grab within an instant.

Claire slid off the chair then ran to him, in her pink pajamas, her arms extended out.

He was on one knee instantly, that smile bigger than it was a second ago, and he enveloped her in his steel arms before he got to his feet once more. He held her body in one arm, his other hand at her back. “How’s breakfast?”

She lowered her voice so I couldn’t hear, but I could definitely hear. “Eggs taste like frogs…”

I couldn’t hold back the chuckle that came from my throat, and I tried to cover it up by drinking from my coffee. Nothing like the honesty of a child.

His eyes shifted to mine, that handsome smile still there. He looked at her again, giving her a pat on the back, and he spoke to her in a whisper too. “I’ll teach her how to make eggs like Daddy.”

“Okay.”

He kissed her on the forehead before he returned her to the floor.

He turned to the kitchen to make himself a plate, and instead of coming back to the table to eat, she followed him. He scooped the leftover eggs onto his plate, grabbed a cold piece of toast, and made himself a coffee.

“Can we go see the ponies today?”

“You just saw them last week.”

“But Constance hasn’t seen them. Please?”

He finished his cup of espresso before he carried everything to the table. “Alright. Since you said please.”

“Yes!” She climbed back onto her chair and looked at me, informing me of his decision as if I couldn’t hear what he’d just said. “Daddy said we can go.”

“Great. Can’t wait to see Budweiser.”

Benton took the seat beside her, dragged her chair closer to the table with one hand, and then turned back to his food. “Finish your food, and we’ll go.” He grabbed the linen napkin from the table and put it in her lap.

She grabbed her fork again.

“Elbows off the table.”

“Your elbows are on the table,” she fired back.

He gave a quiet sigh before he stopped doing it himself.

She shoveled the food into her mouth quickly, inhaling all of it, eager to get going as quickly as possible. “I’m going to get ready. You guys better hurry.” She slid off the chair and ran down the hallway into her bedroom.

The instant she was gone, he was back to his normal self.

His eyes dimmed.

His smile was a frown.

His elbows moved back to the table.

And he ignored me.

The man was literally two different people.

“I told her she’s going back to school on Monday.”

He turned his stare on me, his eating an afterthought.

“She’s excited.”

He resumed his meal, and once his bite was swallowed, he took another. There was no intention of responding.

“You don’t have to come with us today. I’m sure you’re tired.”

“I’m not missing things with Claire. And you have no idea where to go.” He looked straight ahead again and ate his cold breakfast without complaint.

I looked down into my coffee for a while, which had gone cold a while ago. “How was your night?”

He kept eating.

“I love the way you are with Claire. Just wish you were like that more often…”

He turned his gaze on me, his body going still, the food forgotten. “Not going to happen.”

“Even with the woman who saved your daughter? I think I’ve earned a little more respect than that.” I didn’t expect a particular level of kindness or grand gestures. I just wanted there to be more than this enormous divide of hostility.

He stared.

“Why is that so hard for you?”

Blue eyes pierced me, a summer sky in the midst of winter, still like the winter landscape before the storm hit. His eyes didn’t shift back and forth. He didn’t draw breath. Like the statues at the cult, he was lifeless. “You’re right.”

Push and pull. Back and forth. Lethal one minute, kind the next.

“I’m sorry.” His eyes were still. Unblinking. There was no emotion, but he seemed sincere.

Statues didn’t speak or issue apologies. But this one did. “Why is it so hard for you?” I repeated the question because I still wanted the answer. I’d never met anyone like him, a man so hard and heartless. I wanted to understand.

The staring continued along with the silence. “Not a people person.”

“I’m not either.”

A subtle shadow moved into his face, a tone of incredulity.

“Anymore…I guess I should say.”

He dropped his gaze and grabbed his fork again. He returned to eating, but this time, he didn’t close off from me. His eyes were down, but the hostility was gone.

“So…how was your night?”

He finished his food in a couple more bites, scarfing everything down like he hadn’t had a chance to eat last night. “I don’t belong there anymore. But it is what it is.”

“What do you do…exactly?”

The plate was wiped clean, so he grabbed his glass of water and took a drink. “We’ll talk about it later.” His eyes flicked to the hallway, where Claire emerged, dressed in her rain boots and jeans, ready to go.

“You guys are still eating?” she asked incredulously. “Come on, let’s go!” She ran back into her room, her boots tapping against the hardwood floor.

He tilted his head back and downed the rest of the water in a big swallow. “You heard the boss. Let’s go.”

I’d used the money he’d given me to buy new clothes.

I wore black jeans with rips in the thighs, black booties, and a black button-up blouse that tucked into the front of my jeans. With my hair and makeup done, I almost didn’t recognize myself.

I looked like a whole new person.

When I met them at the doorway, Benton was putting her coat on, getting her little arms through the sleeves.

“I’m hot.”

“You won’t be when we get there.” He rose to his feet, still in the long-sleeved shirt he’d worn last night because he didn’t seem to need a jacket. No surprise there…since all those muscles burned hotter than a furnace. His eyes flicked to mine and lingered for a millisecond. He’d only seen me look like a shitshow up until this point, and the difference was startling enough that even he noticed it.

But then he looked away as if he hadn’t noticed anything in the first place.

We went into the garage, got into his blacked-out Range Rover, and drove through the wet streets of Paris. The sky was overcast, and the asphalt was dark from the nighttime rain. Puddles splashed under the tires as we drove. The tint on the windows was dark, blocking out our faces completely from anybody who passed.

It was illegal—but not for Benton.

From the passenger seat, I glanced at him from time to time, seeing him drive with one hand on the wheel, the other bent, with the elbow on the center console so he could reach all the gadgets and the touch screen. The system played a kid’s sing-along, and it was ironic because this man and this car looked like they would play rock music…or something along those lines.

It was the first time I’d been out of the house with him, and it was a lot more relaxing than when I went out alone. There was no need to glance over my shoulder, to check the walkway before I took it, to search for the smile of a jack-o’-lantern.

With him, I felt invincible.

We left Paris and headed into the countryside. The Eiffel Tower and cafés turned into green pastures and ponds with lily pads. High gates blocked beautiful homes that I would only ever see on a real estate site.

Benton slowed down and turned onto a road with an iron gate and a high stone wall that wrapped around the property. He came to a stop, entered a code into the keypad, and then the gates opened.

“Yay!” Claire said from the back. “We’re here.”

Benton drove up the road, approaching a two-story home that looked straight out of Parisian aristocracy from the 1800s. Instead of pulling up to the front of the house, he took another road, heading toward a stable in the rear.

Green pastures showed a couple horses—and some ponies.

Claire pressed up against the window. “Constance, look.”

“Wow,” I said. “They’re beautiful.”

“That’s Strawberry.”

“She’s very cute.”

Benton pulled over, and we entered the stables, where some horses stood, eating their hay or staring at us as we walked inside.

There was a rancher there, an older man in jeans and boots, the person who oversaw the horses when Benton wasn’t around. They exchanged a few pleasantries before he scurried away, like he didn’t want to be around Benton longer than he had to.

Didn’t blame him. Benton was a bit intimidating.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone.” Claire took my hand, and one by one, she introduced me to the horses by name in the stables before she moved out to the fence where the rest were in fields. “We can’t ride the ponies, but we can pet them.” She held out the carrots the way her father taught her, and then Strawberry walked over to munch down. When the carrots were gone, Strawberry licked her fingertips, making Claire giggle. “I’ll get more!” She ran back into the stables to find more fresh carrots.

Benton stood at the fence, his sleeved arms resting on the wood, looking out onto the field and not at the pony that waited for Claire to return. His cold eyes examined the surroundings with indifference, slightly narrowed in a brooding stare, and his short blond hair moved slightly in the winter breeze.

It was hard not to stare.

Then he abruptly pulled his arms off the wood and walked away, moving farther down the fence to another pen.

My head turned the other way to watch him go.

“Got some more.” Claire returned and handed me one. “Keep your hand flat like this.”

I didn’t want my hands to get coated in slobber, but I didn’t want to sabotage her excitement, so I played along. Strawberry devoured my long carrots instantly then went to Claire next.

A loud whistle pierced the sky.

I turned instinctively back to Benton.

An enormous black Clydesdale emerged from the distance, trotting toward Benton before slowing to a walk when he was closer. With a beautiful black mane, a shiny black tail, and a girth that rivaled a ship, the powerful horse walked to the man who mirrored him in many ways.

“That’s Budweiser.”

The horse came to Benton for a scratch.

Benton rubbed down his neck and across his flank over the fence.

I watched him, seeing him show kindness in a way I didn’t expect.

“I’m going to get some apples this time.” Claire jogged back into the stables to search through the storage.

As far as I could tell, no one else was on the property and the house was vacant. I left the pony near the fence and walked to Benton, watching him handle the enormous horse like it was an average steed. “Nice to meet you, Budweiser.”

Benton withdrew his petting hand and rested his arms on the fence once again, admiring his horse up close.

“Are you going to feed him?”

He shook his head.

Budweiser started to munch on the grass below his hooves, his tail flicking from time to time. He stayed close to the fence but knew the rubs were over.

“That’s the biggest horse I’ve ever seen. Do you ride him?”

His eyes remained on the beast. “No.”

“Then why do you keep him?”

“So, he’s not slaughtered for meat.”

“Oh…”

“An associate was about to sell him off, but I offered a higher price.” His blue eyes took in the horse with a hint of reverence. It was different from the way he looked at Claire, like the Clydesdale was more of a trophy than a loving pet. But it was still a drastic change from his usual look of emptiness.

“He’s beautiful.”

“He is.”

“The other horses here…is it because you saved them?”

“No. But some of them are donations. Horses too old for riding or racing. I had room, so I took them.”

“Then this is your place?”

He straightened, suddenly enormous beside me like he was a Clydesdale himself. “Yes.”

“It’s beautiful. Why don’t you live here?”

“We do in the summer. Get away from all the tourists. But her school is down the street from the apartment, and my work is in Paris.” His hands gripped the edge of the fence, his knuckles callused and distinct.

“Constance!”

I turned around to see Claire holding an armful of apples.

“Strawberry is full. Let’s go feed Bubblegum next.”

She was the cutest damn thing in the world. “Alright, I’m coming.” I turned to Benton.

He gave a sigh before he released the fence. “Like I could ever say no to her…”