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April 3, 2016
In Her Eyes
By Wesley Banks
Blurb:
When Ben Wilder is given a second chance he focuses on the one thing he's always been good at: running. After walking on to the University of Florida Track and Field team he begins to quickly move up the national rankings, paving a path towards the NCAA Championships. Everything is going the way he planned, until the day he bumps into Casey Taylor.
New to Gainesville, and focused on her first year out of medical school, Casey is initially hesitant to let Ben into her life. But the truth is she's worried about letting a guy near the one thing she loves most: her daughter, Emma. After one fun and fateful night Casey can no longer bury her feelings behind these excuses, and takes a chance on a guy she is slowly falling for.
Casey's relationship with Ben starts to gradually build into a love that she has never felt before. But more importantly, Emma has taken a particular liking to Ben. As they all spend more time together Ben is forced to confront painful memories when he starts to notice something hauntingly familiar in Emma's eyes.
After a local journalist uncovers the secret of Ben's past their lives begin to converge on a single promise that Ben Wilder has long since made: to never give up...no matter what.
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Excerpts
Ben took a seat in one of the blue leather chairs across
from his desk. To Ben’s right was a brunette lady sitting against the adjacent
wall, wearing a black pantsuit with a white blouse, and clutching a leather
bound notebook.
“You wanted to see me, Coach?” Ben said, ignoring the
woman in the room for the moment.
Coach didn’t say anything at first, he just leaned back
in his chair and folded his hands in his lap. He looked annoyed about
something.
“Ben, this is Claire Stewart,” Coach said. He didn’t
motion at the woman, or even look at her. He just stared straight ahead at Ben.
Ben looked over at Ms. Stewart. She looked middle aged,
maybe late thirties. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail with long bangs
cropping her face, and a pair of glasses tucked into her blouse. Ben was unsure
if he should cordially introduce himself or half pretend she wasn’t even in the
room like Coach. The woman flashed a quick closed lip smile, and he chose to do
the same.
“Miss Stewart here is a journalist for the local ABC
affiliate.” Coach paused again, seemingly forcing his sentences out through
gritted teeth. “She plans to run a story in the near future.”
Ben tried to remain expressionless as his hands clamped
tightly around his legs, as if he were bracing for impact. It hadn’t been
abnormal for reporters to request interviews, but Coach was making this
particular one seem like a big deal.
“She is here out of the kindness of her cold, black heart
to let us know in advance,” Coach seethed.
It would be an understatement to say Coach definitely did
not like this woman, or the reason she was here.
The woman who had been sitting silently in the corner of
the room began to speak: “Ben.” Her voice didn’t seem hurtful or mean. In fact
it was soft and slow and poured out like a stream of cool water. “I want to
tell your story.”
Ben looked over at the woman’s dark brown eyes but didn’t
respond.
She continued. “I want to tell the story of the young man
who returns to running to shatter several collegiate records, after overcoming
the tragic loss of his daughter and wife…”
The woman kept on talking about something, possibly even
asking Ben questions. Ben still stared in the woman’s direction, but he didn’t
see her. He didn’t hear her. All he heard was Grace’s voice. All he saw was her
aquamarine eyes.
Ben walked by several rooms that looked exactly how he
remembered them. Eggshell colored hospital beds were covered with crisp white
sheets, tucked neatly at every side. Teddy bears and other stuffed animals
lined the beds, and colorful animal balloons floated in front of the health
monitors. Most of them also had a navy couch with wood trim that folded into a
bed just below the prison like windows. He hated those rooms.
Turning the corner he found the same tiled mural of
butterflies, and birds, and dolphins on the wall. And then he heard a familiar
voice. A voice he really didn’t want to hear.
“Benson?” Dr. Sanchez called out.
The voice stopped Ben cold where he stood. For a moment
he thought about just breaking into a run. That seemed to be the only solution
he had lately. But something held him standing still where he was.
Dr. Sanchez walked up beside Ben. He had shaved his thick
black mustache, and there were large bags under his eyes. He looked tired, Ben
thought, possibly even sad.
“How are you?” Dr. Sanchez said, touching Ben’s shoulder
lightly. “What brings you here?”
Ben didn’t answer.
“I’ve been reading about your races in the paper. That’s
really great,” he said with a smile.
Ben’s eyes burned into the orange and green coral shaped
designs on the floor, but he didn’t say a word.
“Well,” Dr. Sanchez said lightly, “I…I better get back to
work. It was…good to see you.”
Ben wanted to nod, or at least acknowledge the man in
some way, but what do you say to the man that killed your daughter?
About The Author
Wesley recently moved from Florida to Oregon to get back to the great outdoors that he loves so much. He lives with his wife Lindsey, and his two dogs Linkin and Story. Most of his time these days is spent writing, with as much rock climbing, hiking, or skiing as they can fit in.
You can find Wesley at
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