Free That Was Then... by Melody Carlson

said quickly, “but Caitlin is such a good friend to me. And she’s too nice to ask anyone herself. She keeps saying they probably need to give Ben space. But he hasn’t talked to Josh or Cesar or anyone. And that just doesn’t seem right to me.”
    I nodded. “Yeah, I can understand the concern.”
    “But if you can’t tell me, I’ll understand.”
    I pressed my lips together, trying to decide what to do. “Nat has told me not to tell anyone…But I will say this—there are some problems.”
    Chloe nodded. “That’s understandable. I mean, seriously, what a hard way to start a marriage.”
    “It’s been hard. On both of them, Chloe. And the truth is—I’m really worried about both of them. Andwithout revealing too much, I think that Josh should go have a talk with Ben.”
    “Really?”
    “Yeah. But I didn’t tell you anything, did I?”
    “No. Not really. But I’ll tell Josh to give Ben a call.”
    “Not just a call,” I said suddenly. “I mean Josh should make a point to actually see Ben. Even if he has to pop in at work, or at the apartment, or whatever.” Okay, I knew I was starting to sound urgent then. But I really wanted someone else—someone besides me—to know what was going on.
    And as I sit here writing this, I’m thinking that Nat’s black eye wasn’t from the cupboard. Ben had probably been drinking, gotten angry like Nat said he does sometimes, and hit her. And that just makes me sick. In fact, if Josh doesn’t follow up on this, I think I will. I will ask Nat to tell me what’s going on, and I will tell someone. Maybe not their parents. But I could tell Caitlin and Josh or Pastor Tony. They should know what to do.
    Making this decision feels like a heavy load’s been lifted from me. And before I go to bed tonight, I will really be praying for Nat and Ben. I’ll be asking God to get them some real help.
Friday, November 24
    This was our first Thanksgiving without Mom. And it was weird how it hit both Dad and me pretty hard. Earlier this week, Dad found out that ski season would open onThanksgiving Day, and he suggested we go on up there. At the time it sounded great. And maybe it was, but it was tough too.
    The snow was fairly good, and it was awesome being on my snowboard again, but the slopes were conspicuously empty, and my guess was that everyone else was home having turkey with their families. I’m sure Dad felt this too. So instead of being a good distraction from what—rather who—we were missing, it felt as if our grief was in the spotlight. But we never mentioned this as we took advantage of the short lift lines, until the place finally started to dose at four.
    “I thought we could grab a bite to eat on our way home,” Dad said as he stuck our equipment in the back of my Jeep. I’d offered to drive today, hoping this would be good practice for me and maybe Dad wouldn’t worry so much if I came back up here again for snowboarding.
    “Sounds good.” I climbed in and started the ignition. We didn’t talk much as I drove to the nearest town. And we quickly discovered that the only place open was a very nice restaurant, where they were serving a special Thanksgiving menu.
    “Hey, we’ll get our turkey, after all,” I told Dad as we went inside.
    But I could tell that he wasn’t too happy with this. And finally, after the waiter brought our food, I had to ask him what was wrong.
    “I’m sorry, Kimmy,” he said sadly. “I was just remembering…”
    “Mom?”
    He nodded.
    “I’ve been missing her too.”
    He nodded again.
    “But we’ll get through this.” I tried to sound more hopeful than I felt at the moment.
    “Yes. I know.” But I could see his eyes glistening.
    “I’ve heard that holidays are the worst,” I said, a lump growing in my throat.
    “Yes.” Now he looked around the restaurant, as if taking it all in—the wood beams, the pine-paneled walls. Finally his gaze fixed on the large stone fireplace that was burning cheerfully. “This is