Chapter 25
Taysom
I’m met with a cluster of parents and kids as I approach the Early Childhood Center the next evening. The expression on Charlotte’s face when I walk in is a mixture of joy and professionalism, bordering on fatigue. I’ve caught her right in her element, and I can’t stop staring.
She’s wrapping up the free gait analysis night in style, wearing a giraffe hat on her head and a multi-colored scarf threaded through the belt loops of her jeans.
I nearly kissed her during our heist last night and just thinking about that moment between us has my heart rate ticking up.
I really like Charlotte and when I’m not around her, I wish I could be.
I admire her drive and her passion for the kids she works with.
I love her red hair and her big, brown eyes.
And I’m blaming the strong emotions of last night on the lights going off and having to be in such close proximity to her.
Strange things can happen in conditions like those.
Except nothing happened.
I should be relieved because I’m pretty sure Kyle would freak out if it had. Despite myself, I smile at the memory of last night, my body pressed against hers in the dark hallway outside the janitor’s closet.
I knew I liked her, but whoa. That was hot.
Charlotte tosses me a glance and then continues on with her client. The kid can’t be more than two years old and he’s not cooperating. He doesn’t want to put his feet on the giant ink pad. I know this is a big part of the analysis, so it’s important that he does it.
But Charlotte gives a casual wave of her hand. “If he doesn’t want to, it’s fine,” she tells the kid’s mom.
“I think he’s just a little concerned about his feet,” the mom says. “His senses get overloaded at times.”
“Oh, then we really won’t push it. Let’s just skip this part. We can still check for a few things.” She rushes over to the counter nearest her and picks up the stolen inclinometer.
When Charlotte motions for the kid to come and join her at the counter, he screams. “I wanna walk!” He rushes back over to the footprint paper stretched across the room.
“Now you want to do it?” His mom gives a stressed out laugh and turns to Charlotte. “Sorry, can we try again?”
“Of course! I’d prefer it if we can get even just a few steps.”
He almost steps on the ink pad but hesitates. He seems scared to step onto it.
“Ah, how about I go first, okay?”
Charlotte slips her shoes off, wipes her feet with wet wipes and then plants her feet down on the giant ink pad. “We color our feet and then we walk, just like this.” She demonstrates, holding her arms out to her sides. Her footprints bloom onto the paper under her.
“And look at the pretty feet we made?” Charlotte points to the green splotches of footprints, which gradually grow dimmer as she reaches the end of the paper walkway.
She then sits on a chair and wipes the underneath of her feet off.
“See? Good as new!” She shows the kid her feet and they’re pink and free of all green dye.
Her demonstration has the kid convinced and she scrambles up to help him as he does a little dance on the giant ink pad. Then, she holds his hand as he takes steps on the paper.
“Look at your footprints! Cool, huh?”
The kid beams and so does his mom. And I find myself smiling, too, because Charlotte is pure magic. Leave it to her to motivate the kid.
Once the event is over, I help Charlotte and her coworkers clean everything up. Then, they start to leave, one by one. She hugs each of them fiercely.
Willa tucks her hair behind her ears. “So, do you need a ride home, or…” She looks at me and then back at Charlotte.
“Oh yeah. Willa brought me to work this morning. We carpool sometimes and we figured we better do it again while we still can.”
“I got you.” I turn to Willa. “Thanks for bringing her but I can get her home.”
Charlotte packs her backpack full to the brim with stuff, including the inclinometers we “borrowed” from the Institute last night.
“I don’t exactly know how we’re getting these back to podiatry, but…”
“I’ll just drop them off at the front desk tomorrow. I let the facilities guy know that we grabbed them and he was totally fine with it.”
“So are you saying our heist wasn’t actually a heist, but more of an approved outing?”
“Oh, it’ll always be a heist to me.” I’m staring at her for too long, so I motion for the large backpack she’s slung on her shoulders. “Here, let me help with some of this stuff.”
Charlotte smiles. “If you just want to grab the therapy balls, they’re mine from home, I’ll get this stack of things and we’ll be on our way.”
Wearing a big backpack and carrying a stack of papers and small boxes, she can’t lock the door behind her, so I fish her keys out of a pocket in her backpack and do it for her.
We reach my car and I pop the trunk. “Put all that stuff in here.”
She puts the backpack in there but keeps a firm grip on the items in her hands. She presses them to her chest. “If I put these down, they’ll fly all over your trunk.”
We get in and she rests the stack of papers and things in her lap.
“So, do you want to come over to my place?”
“What about Miley?”
“We could stop and grab her and bring her over.”
“Well, I checked on her a couple of hours ago when I ran home to eat dinner before the event and she was fine then. Honestly, I kind of just want to go hang out with you.”
“She’s a sweetie, but…I kind of agree with you,” I say.
She drops her head against the headrest. “Oh no, we’re horrible cat parents. Our kitten is going to grow up scarred!”
I like the thought of Miley being “our kitten.” I mean, it’s felt that way these past few weeks, but I really like how it sounds.
“So, how do you feel about tonight?” I ask.
She gives a tired sigh. “I feel really good about it. Of course, we couldn’t diagnose anything, and the majority of the kids presented with completely normal gait patterns. But we had a few that we referred to various places.”
“I think it’s awesome you did that. Such a great idea.”
She nods. “The goal is every quarter. I’d been working on an initiative to provide free screenings in this area. But I don’t even know where I’ll be working, so who knows if this is something I can do in the future.”
“Heard anything back about the job in Austin?” My stomach twists to one side as I think about her possibly relocating. See? This is why it’s inadvisable to have such strong feelings for her. If I’m traded, how much worse will it be?”
“Not a thing. I reached out and touched base with the people who interviewed me and no response. I guess that’s a ‘no,’ right?” She rests her elbows on the stack of things in her lap. “My coworkers have new jobs lined up.”
“It’ll come. Trust the process.”
She glances over at me and gives me a look of one part gratitude and one part sadness. Or fear.
“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” I say. “You’ve got this.”
We pull up to my house, a newer, four thousand square foot home in a gated community. Charlotte whistles. “I like your place.”
“Thanks, me too.” Nerves broil up in me. Can I keep my wits about me with Charlotte in my home? I’ve felt ready to have her over for a while now. And as she walks through the garage door and into the mudroom, a feeling of rightness settles inside of me.
It feels good to have her here.
“You’ve got good taste,” Charlotte says, her eyes wide. “It’s like cozy chic meets rich man with a minimalist complex.”
“That would be the interior designer I brought in when I bought the place my rookie year.”
“Ah, okay. I like it.” It’s masculine with some luxurious touches like the marble countertops with flecks of gold and the wall-to-wall, apple green built-in shelving all along one wall of the great room.
She turns to face me and that’s when I realize it: The whole front of her is imprinted with green ink in splotches and rifts.