40. ~ Char ~
CHAPTER 40
~ Char ~
“T oday was nice,” I told James as we sat at the small patio table in the backyard. I’d allowed myself to explore the edges of my contentment without question, simply testing its edges, bouncing in the weight of it.
He found it hilarious that Mrs. Laven had conned me out of fifty dollars, and any possible sting from his mirth had been happily kissed away. Not that there was any sting. I was actually a bit tickled in the way the older woman had outmaneuvered me so smoothly.
All day, James and I had stayed fairly busy. Being with him from almost dawn until now had felt fluid and natural as well as so incredibly easy. From our work on the park, to chores around the house, to cooking supper. Normally, I’d be tired of someone by now and feeling antsy, but not with him. In fact, I wanted more.
Was this what it was like for couples like Sally and Otto?
“The afternoon was the best,” I added, tentatively trusting that maybe today had been real. No wishes. No magic. Just us being us. Friendship with a relationship layered over top. Building something that could outlast any magic Estelle sprinkled on us.
“Even better than watching the backhoe tear down the warehouse frame?”
I grinned at the memory. Seeing the strength of the machine as it cracked the strong wooden joists, tearing apart a building that had withstood so much time and weather was very cool.
But even as gratifying as it had been… “Still wasn’t as nice as this afternoon.”
James held my hand across the table. “It’s better when we’re together.”
“It is. And it was fun. Being here for the afternoon.” Playing house.
“You turning into a homebody, Char McDonnell?”
The word ‘homebody’ froze me.
“Is that what you’re looking for?” I asked.
His eyes solidly met mine. “I told you what I want.”
“Serendipity?”
“Yes.” His thumb rubbed lines across my knuckles, grounding me, keeping me here in the moment instead of giving into my fears and freaking out.
“But you also want a homey wife,” I said, voice hoarse. I blinked like I had a speck of dirt in my eye, my thoughts jumbled. Maybe my definition of homey was off. Maybe it meant something like what today had represented to me.
Homey could mean having someone at your side for both the fun and the work, similar to what Mrs. Laven had told me. It was having someone easy to love, no matter what the day brought you or where you were. Homey, but with a slice of serendipity.
“I want someone who is happy wherever she is, and no matter what she is doing.”
“Nobody is happy all the time,” I said absently.
“I know. But some people find fun where they are, and if they aren’t enjoying themselves, they change gears. I’m just looking for a woman that I get along with. Someone I can have fun with, no matter what our days bring us.”
My hands were shaking. As terrifying as it was, we wanted the same thing. Homey didn’t mean a 1950s housewife to either of us.
It meant…us.
As we were.
But I didn’t have the lifelong example of a healthy relationship to model after like he did. I didn’t know how to resolve a fight or keep things spicy. I wasn’t sure I could live up to our current dream or that, over time, I wouldn’t fall short.
“I don’t know how to do this,” I whispered, unable to look at him.
He pulled me to my feet, drawing me to his side of the table and into his lap, where he wrapped his arms around my waist. “It looks like today. It looks like friendship. It looks like love and commitment. Kindness and trust, as well as compassion for each other.”
My heart was hiccuping. I wanted all of that so desperately.
He tenderly kissed me, whispering. “That’s the secret. The real magic to making it work.”
I nodded, sniffing back tears. It felt doable, even though I’d consistently been pulling away and reserving a piece of my heart. Even though my wishes had nudged this relationship ball into rolling on false pretences.
I wanted things to be messy and real, and without my wishful interference. I might not get that, but I had right now. I had this moment along with many others. And I could hope that enough of them were real, and that James truly knew who I was, and that he would still love me even when he was no longer looking at me through the lacy gauze of a magical spell.