Chapter 2 - When He Didn't Throw Me Out
He didn't answer right away after I said her name.
I remembered the way his mouth stayed open a little, like he'd been about to say something else and then forgot what it was. His eyes were still locked on the bear, not on me. I could hear my own breathing, fast and shallow, and the bear's fur was damp where my hands had been squeezing it.
Behind us, her heels clicked on the marble. I didn't have to look to know it was the woman in the black dress. She had been standing with her arms crossed the whole time. Now she was coming closer.
"Bennett?" he said again, so quiet I almost didn't catch it.
I nodded. Or I tried to. I couldn't make my head move right.
He stood up then. Slowly. One hand stayed on the arm of the sofa for a second, like he needed it to steady himself, and his silver watch caught the chandelier light. He turned just enough to put himself between me and her, and I saw his shoulders square under the tuxedo jacket.
She stopped a few feet away. I could see the sequins on her dress glittering every time she breathed. Her arms were still crossed.
"This is becoming a spectacle," she said. Her voice was low but sharp enough that a couple near the Christmas trees turned to look. "Our donors are watching. You need to get that child out now and let security handle it."
I felt my stomach drop. I thought she meant me. I thought I'd done something wrong by sitting on the fancy sofa in my red dress.
He didn't move. He kept his back half toward me, like a wall.
"No," he said. His voice was calm, but there was no give in it. "Not until I understand this."
He tipped his head just a little toward the bear in my arms. The thin blue band on the bear's leg showed where my thumb had pushed the fur aside.
"This bear," he said to her, still quiet. "Do you know what this is? This isn't a toy store bear. This is from Grace Bennett's program. That band - I recognize it. If this child has it, someone gave it to her. Someone who knew Grace."
The woman's mouth tightened. She didn't look at the bear. She looked at him.
"You're embarrassing yourself over some stray child," she said. The words were clipped, like she wanted them to land in front of other people. "Do you hear yourself? You're kneeling on the floor at our Christmas gala interrogating a toddler about a stuffed animal while the entire foundation board is in the next room. Think about what this looks like."
I didn't understand most of what she said. But I understood her tone. It was the same tone adults used when I was in the way. When I'd spilled juice or asked for something twice.
My hands locked tighter around the bear. I pressed it hard against the velvet of my dress until I could feel its nose against my chest. My pink shoes didn't touch the floor from the big sofa, they just dangled and knocked a little against the gold scrollwork.
It was my fault they were fighting. If I hadn't sat down. If I hadn't been there at all.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. It came out thin and shaky, and I wasn't even sure who I was saying it to. To him. To her. I looked up at the man's back and my eyes filled again. "I'm sorry."
He must have heard the way my voice broke, because he turned immediately. He crouched back down so fast his knee almost hit the marble. He wasn't looking at the woman anymore. He was looking only at me, his face level with mine.
"Hey, no," he said softly. "No, sweetheart, not you. You didn't do anything wrong. Okay? You didn't do anything wrong."
His hand hovered near the sofa arm, not touching me, just close enough that I could see the cuff of his white shirt and the watch again. His eyes were kind, but his brow was still pulled together, and I could tell he was trying to keep his voice steady for me while he was still upset with her.
Behind him, the woman let out a short breath through her nose.
"Fine," she said. "Keep her here then. But you explain to the board why a lost child is sitting center stage at our biggest night of the year. Don't expect me to cover for you."
She didn't wait for an answer. Her heels clicked again as she stepped back, not far, just enough to give us space, but she didn't leave. She moved to the edge of the garland near the trees and turned, arms crossing again, watching. The way she stood made it clear this wasn't over, she was just letting it play out in front of everyone.
The man didn't watch her go. He stayed kneeled in front of me, and the noise of the ballroom seemed to get a little louder again, the music and the chatter and the clink of glasses, but around our little sofa it felt separate, like a small circle had been drawn.
He glanced down at the bear again, then back at my face.
"You're safe right here," he said, quieter now, just for me. "I promise. You can stay on the sofa with your bear. No one is going to move you. All right?"
I didn't know what to say, so I just held on and nodded once, my wavy hair falling into my eyes. I didn't let go of the bear. I couldn't. The blue band on its leg had gone soft from me rubbing it, and I tucked it against my red dress so no one else would try to take it.
May you like
He settled his hand lightly on the edge of the sofa cushion beside my leg, not moving me, just staying there. From where I sat, I could see over his shoulder to where the woman stood under the warm chandelier light, still observing, still stern. She didn't come closer again, but she didn't look away either.
I stayed where I was, small and breathing too fast, with the bear locked against my chest, while he kept kneeling between us.
