17. ~ Char ~
CHAPTER 17
~ Char ~
“Y our parents’ house?” I pushed my way deeper into the passenger seat of James’s Range Rover. We’d kissed once, twenty minutes ago, out of excitement over the grant. And now I was about to meet his parents?
I gently brushed my lips, still warm and tingly from James’s earlier kiss. I know, it was only my imagination telling me I could feel the effect and pressure from his lips on my own, but his kiss had been sweet, and oh-so right and I wanted to savour and stay in the after-bliss for as long as I could.
The question was: why were we at his parents’? He’d promised me a distraction after I heard back from the grant agency and hadn’t been able to sit still. It hadn’t helped that Tamara had been shooting visual daggers at me as I filled in the girls on the agency’s decision. Somehow, she knew I’d made a wish.
Even though it was eight at night, I wanted to go buy the land and set to work.
And so James, ever the friend, had dragged me away—even though our kiss hadn’t been a friend-zone kind of kiss. It had, in fact, been toe-curlingly delicious. The kind of kiss you shared with a soulmate. The warm, fuzzy vibes James gave me were even better than holding an old piece of Athenian pottery. Way better.
When he’d suggested a distraction, though, I’d thought we might go somewhere and make out. Not go meet his parents.
I think I’d rather be at home, pacing until the land offices opened, as well as freaking out over what our kiss meant, thanks. His parents were going to take one look at me, and know I wanted to be out of the friend zone with their son, even though it broke my own rule about dating someone I already knew I wouldn’t marry. They’d instinctively know I didn’t understand close-knit family vibes, or how a family should be there for you, reading your needs, and taking care of them without any apparent thought. I’d learned from watching Tamara’s family how important that was, and I knew I was lacking. I didn’t know how to do that. How to comfortably fit myself into that type of familial situation.
“I’ve got to run in and grab something.” James came around the Range Rover’s bumper and opened my door. “I still can’t believe you got that grant. And so fast!”
I nodded, one eye on the front of the cute bungalow with its cheery potted flowers and freshly tended lawn.
“I mean, they even dipped into their emergency reserves so you can buy both lots, and tear down that warehouse. You have to be the luckiest woman in the world.”
His gaze was liquid warmth spreading over me, and I nodded again. At this moment, with him looking at me like that, I was the luckiest woman in the world. I was also a woman out of her depth.
He held out his hand.
“I can wait here,” I said, leaning further from the door.
“Aren’t you coming in?”
“I thought you just had to grab something?” I knew he had his own basement suite near SAIT, which meant this was a quick zip in and out. In other words, there was absolutely no reason for me to go inside.
“I do. But come meet my parents.”
“Um…”
He was holding out his hand, insistently bouncing it, palm up, waiting for me to take it. “They don’t bite. They meet all my friends.”
Friends. “Right. Of course.” I nodded, the friend zone reminder snapping me out of my freak-out daze. Talk about putting the cart way before the horse on that one. It wasn’t like we were romantically serious about each other, and needed to meet each other’s families. It wasn’t like his parents would assume I was there as a potential future daughter-in-law. James was the socially sure kind of guy who brought friends home, even though he was an adult. Tamara’s boyfriend, Kade, had been like that in high school. I was sure everyone in our school had been to his house at one point or another.
I mentally bolstered myself. I needed to remember that making mental room for the possibility of a relationship with a guy like James was one thing. Thinking he wanted me to meet his parents because he was in love with me was quite another.
I hopped out, my hand gently resting in James’s as I slid out of the SUV. He released me sooner than I wanted, leaving a hole in my gut. He led us to the front door, letting us in with a hearty, “Just me and a friend!” He said to me, “Ditch your coat wherever.”
Friend. I was starting to really dislike that word.
I glanced around the entry at the coat hooks already filled with jackets. “Aren’t we just running in and out again?”
“Yup.” He tossed his jacket on a filled hook, then took mine, adding it to the heap while he kicked off his shoes.
A dazzling woman in her fifties, with long sweeping earrings, appeared. Her left earring tickled the top of her shoulder, her other was hidden in a tangle of curly black and silver hair. What her body lacked in mass, her hair more than made up for. She looked at home in a paisley wrap-around skirt and ropes of beads.
Not at all the plump, unstylish mom I’d imagined.
“I’m Sally.” She offered her hand, and we shook, even though she struck me as a hugger. Maybe she was holding back, sensing that it was too early for me to be comfortable with a hug. “You must be Char.”
I blinked at James. He’d mentioned me to his mother? I was charmed.
And way too hopeful.
“Nice to meet you,” I said, already imagining what it might be like to be a part of her circle. Homey afternoons spent gossiping around the kitchen table with cups of tea with sunlight streaming in through the open windows….
Seriously. One kiss and, even though I wasn’t cut from the same cloth as the Backstrohms, I was trying to figure out how to blend my way into this sweet family’s routines?
Sally led us into the kitchen where a card game was laid out, mid-play. A woman with a spine curved by age smiled at us. James went to her side, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
“Hello, Mrs. Laven. How are you doing today?”
“Beating your mom at cards,” she crowed triumphantly, her eyes sparkling.
“Good to hear it. This is my friend Char.” James turned to me. “Mrs. Laven lives next door.” He turned to his mom. “Where’s Dad?”
“He had a later shift, but I think I just heard the garage door go.”
A man stepped into the kitchen as though on cue. “James! Thought I saw your car. Nice to see you.” He was tall and built, an older, more rugged Viking version of James. He gave his son a shoulder squeeze, kissed his wife sweetly, said hello to Mrs. Laven before making his way over to me. I was still in the doorway on the other side of the room, unsure where I should be and what my role was.
“Hello. I’m Otto.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Char.”
“Just raiding the costume box,” James said. “Back in a mo’.” And with that, he ducked through the door his father had appeared through, leaving me in the kitchen. I hesitated, unsure if I was supposed to cross the airy room and follow, or stay put and be social. My index finger had found the hole in my shirt’s sleeve from earlier, and I forced myself to stop worrying the spot.
“I donated most of it!” Sally called after her son. When the door didn’t reopen, she shrugged and turned to me. “He’ll figure it out. Cookie? They’re homemade.”
I stepped further into the room, accepting a chocolate chip cookie, which was still warm from the oven. Soft, gooey, sweet and utterly perfect, just like her ginger cookies had been.
“James brought us some of your ginger cookies. Thank you. They were a big hit.”
Sally smiled. “I’m glad you liked them.”
“She loves to bake,” Mr. Backstrohm said, grabbing two cookies for himself.
“I do.” Still holding the plate of warm cookies, Sally angled her cheek toward her husband, who planted another kiss on it.
The whole sweet family and doting parents were actually a real thing in James’ world. And it didn’t give off liar vibes like I’d half-expected. Everyone seemed happy, upbeat, and truly alive. The idea that a perfect little home life might exist left me feeling strangely alone, like an outsider looking in, wondering how the pieces all went together to create such a beautiful picture. But most of all, how to make it last?
Even during my family’s better days, I didn’t ever recall a settled feeling quite like this one. This was a blip in time so easily taken for granted, so mundane, and yet so heartwarmingly real.
Was it possible that my parents had always been cartwheeling, slipping and sliding toward divorce from the day they’d met? Maybe my wish had simply been the nudge that had finally tipped them over the edge to face the reality that their relationship had hit a dead end.
Watching James’s parents interact, their cozy evening routine already on autopilot, I realized how easy it would be for me to say the wrong thing or make an inopportune, ill-thought-out wish—which seemed to be my specialty—and ruin it all should I ever become a part of it.
“She looks a bit rounder,” Mrs. Laven said, leaning toward Sally as she sat back down at the card game, speaking as though I wasn’t there, her gaze on me. “Is she expecting already?”
Instinctively, I sucked in and smoothed my blouse over my midriff.
“Greta, this isn’t Sophia,” Otto said awkwardly, giving me an apologetic smile as he pulled a prepared plate of leftovers from the microwave.
Sophia. The ex-fiancée who hadn’t made the cut. Why? Was she too similar to this sweet life that James had had growing up? Was he looking for something different? For more excitement than this cozy routine could bring him? Because I could tell him firsthand that ‘excitement’ and this kind of home life didn’t mix. Maybe he already knew that? So then, what did the man truly want?
“This is his friend, Char,” Sally added.
“Hello,” I said stiffly, edging toward the garage door on the other side of the room. “Maybe I should go help James.”
“I bought them a toaster.” Mrs. Laven studied me with a critical, rheumy eye. “I liked your hair better when it was shorter, although this colour suits you nicely.”
“Thank you,” I replied politely.
“Come sit,” Sally said, patting a chair at the table. I slipped into it. “What a lovely blouse, but oh dear.” She clucked and stood, one hand on the sleeve that was ripped.
When she released me, I instinctively covered the tear with my other hand and watched her leave the room, back in an instant with a small wicker basket. “Let’s fix that sleeve for you.”
“Oh, but…”
“It’ll only take a moment. Are you wearing a cami underneath?”
“Sally,” Otto warned.
“Oh, it’s just us ladies here,” Mrs. Laven stated.
“That’s my cue,” Otto said, exiting the room with his plate while giving me a look of sympathy.
I mentally checked which camisole I might be wearing under the blouse. Was it ratty? Too sexy? Ill-fitting? Basically embarrassing in any way? Probably. But with Sally already matching the thread from her kit to my shirt, I felt I had little choice but to start unbuttoning.
Sally slipped on a pair of reading glasses and set to work as soon as the red fabric was in hand. “Tell us about yourself, Char.”
“Um, what would you like to know?” I ran my fingers down my bare left arm, feeling chilled despite the warmth of the cozy room.
“Did you grow up in the city?”
“No. Eagle Ridge.” I’d only lived there a few years, but it was easier telling people that was where I was from than explaining my life story.
“Lovely area. Do you know the Firestones?”
“I don’t,” I admitted. Sally gazed at me over her glasses, obviously in need of an explanation.
“Very pretty town,” Mrs. Laven added.
“We moved there when I was in grade nine.”
“Are you parents still there?” Another look over her glasses.
I shook my head.
“Oh. Where are they now? Are they retired?”
“My dad’s in Lethbridge. He’s retired.” Again, easier than explaining that after a work accident, he was on disability, and would be for the rest of his life. Or that he rarely left the house, and despite my pushing and prodding, wasn’t willing to road trip to our province’s capital to take in a travelling exhibit with me. True, he’d already seen the ancient civilizations exhibit in a documentary, and taking it in would mean him travelling four-and-a-half hours each way. But I thought he loved that stuff as much as I did.
“Not too far. And your mom?”
“She…” I realized I wasn’t sure where she was at the moment. She travelled a lot with Damon, often living in a different province or country for months at a time while he did consulting work. Mom and I hadn’t talked in over a year, and the few times we did chat it was usually about something necessary, making the calls brief. “She lives in B.C. some of the time.”
The sewing went down, and Sally’s head came up. She wore a look of curiosity, as though her mom senses were sniffing out the brokenness in my past. Looks like that always cut me to the core and sent my eyes welling.
It was such a dumb reaction. I wasn’t an abandoned child. If needed, I was sure Mom and Damon would bail me out of jail or let me crash there overnight. They were still family, even though I hadn’t gone to their destination wedding, and didn’t celebrate the holidays with them.
Sally gave my closest wrist a squeeze, her empathy so thick and real I had to blink back unexpected tears.
“Family is tricky, isn’t it?”
Looking around at her cozy setting, her family and neighbour, I wasn’t sure if she truly understood just how tricky it could be. How devastatingly isolating it felt to be unwanted, or to be the wrong fit in the group of people you should feel closest to.