Chapter Four Charlie
Chapter Four
Charlie
“You okay, Harps? Dinner’s ready.” I sat on the edge of my daughter’s bed, where she’d gone as soon as we’d arrived home after I’d picked her up from aftercare at school. She had her back to me, and her brown wavy hair pooled on the mattress.
I felt like shit that she was one of the last kids to be picked up.
But I was buried at work, and she usually liked staying after school so she could play with her friends.
“I’m not hungry,” she sniffed.
I reached for her shoulders and rolled her so she was lying on her back. It hurt me when I saw how puffy her eyes were. “Hey. What’s going on?”
“Nothing, Daddy. I’m just not hungry.”
These were the moments that I struggled with. I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing parenting a little girl all on my own most of the time, and it was a constant battle in my head if I was fucking this up. All I knew was that I woke up every day and loved her enough for two parents.
I loved this kid enough for a mother and a father.
Hell, I loved her enough for two sets of grandparents as well.
Because I was a one-man show when it came to raising Harper.
I worked hard to provide for her and give her everything she needed.
But this kind of shit was out of my wheelhouse.
My little girl looking like someone stole her sunshine.
I didn’t know how to handle that.
I had zero experience with little kids before my daughter was born. I grew up in and out of foster care, so I had very little experience with stability before my Harper came into the world.
I stroked her hair away from her face. “You might feel better if you eat something.”
“I don’t want to. I’m not hungry.”
I sighed, trying to figure out if I should force her to eat or give her time.
There was a knock on the back door, which could only be one person.
The menace from across the yard.
The past few days had been filled with snarky emails, and she continued to come by the jobsite daily to check on the progress and question everything.
Every. Single. Thing.
“I’ll be right back.” I moved through the house toward the back door and yanked it open.
“What did you burn down now?” I leaned against the doorframe as I took in her face. Her eyes were a little puffy, unless I was reading into it. The biggest sign that something was off was that she didn’t have a snarky comeback.
She wasn’t spewing venom at me.
She just stood there looking a little—broken.
“Can I just put these in your oven and then come back in twenty minutes to pick them up? I’m too tired to go to the diner, and I don’t have anything to microwave, and I need some comfort food.” She held up the bag of pizza rolls.
I’d ordered a new oven for the guesthouse, and it was expected to arrive in a week to ten days. And now I felt like a big dick that she couldn’t cook food for herself in the house where she was living.
“Yes, of course.” I took the bag from her hand and moved toward the oven, still warm from the garlic bread I’d just pulled out for dinner. She followed me inside, and I handed her a cookie sheet. She poured several pizza rolls onto the pan before handing it back to me.
Her eyes were definitely puffy.
I wouldn’t have guessed Violet Beaumont would ever let her guard down long enough to cry, but the signs were there.
She was quieter. Less combative.
Her eyes were puffy and red.
“Thank you. I’ll be back in twenty minutes,” she said as her gaze moved to the table with two plates of pasta sitting there, accompanied by a basket of garlic bread and some salad. “What’s going on here? Looks like it’s getting cold.”
I put the pizza rolls in the oven and leaned against the kitchen counter before blowing out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know. Harps says she doesn’t want to eat. She’s been in her room lying in bed since we got home, and I’m pretty sure she’s been crying.”
Violet narrowed her gaze at me. “You’re pretty sure she’s been crying? Does she not make any noise when she cries?”
“She was quiet on the drive home, and then I started dinner out here, and when I went to go get her, I found her in her bed. She kept sniffing, and her eyes were puffy.”
Just like yours are.
“She’s definitely been crying, genius.” She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, as if I’d been the one to make my daughter cry. “Did you ask her why she was upset?”
“I asked her if she was hungry, and she said no. I asked her if she was sick, and she said no.” I trailed a hand down my face.
“Well, there’s lots of other reasons for someone to cry other than being sick or hungry. Especially when you’re six years old. You should always just ask the damn questions. Most people want to talk about it—they just don’t think you care.”
“Of course I care. She’s never done this before, and I didn’t know if I should push,” I admitted, feeling like an insecure asshole because most of the time I didn’t know what I was doing when it came to parenting.
“You always push, Charles.”
“All right. Well, it looks like you’ve been crying too. What’s going on with you?”
“It’s none of your damn business, you big Neanderthal,” she hissed.
“You told me to ask.”
“And I have a right to tell you it’s none of your business. Now watch my pizza rolls for me, and I’ll go talk to Harper. I’m very good at figuring out why someone’s upset.” She moved past me like she owned the place.
The woman had a way of lighting up any room she entered.
Even when she was pissed off at me, which was most of the time.
Moving around on a mission, like a goddamn firefly.
“Thank you. It’s the second door on the left.” My house wasn’t that big, so it wouldn’t be hard to find her, but I needed to say something.
I poured myself a beer now because I was on edge. I was letting my ridiculously annoying yet sexy neighbor talk to my daughter when I should’ve been the one doing it.
But Harper had never closed herself off to me like this.
This was a first, and I was at a loss.
I took a swig of my beer, then moved down the hallway quietly, positioning myself outside the door so I could listen.
“It’s okay to have a bad day every now and then,” Violet said as I stood completely still. “I didn’t have a great day today either. How about you tell me what happened, and maybe we can help each other?”
“You didn’t have a good day today?” My daughter’s voice cracked, as if she’d just stopped crying.
I had one fucking job in this world, and it was to give Harper a good life.
Yes, I ran a company, and I worked hard to provide for us.
But the one job that mattered, the only fucking thing that was my reason for waking up every single day and working hard, was the little girl on the other side of this wall.
And knowing that she was hurting did something to me. I felt it physically in the center of my chest, where a deep pain resided now.
Hell, I’d run away because I was too damn scared to ask her why she was crying. Harper had always been open with me. She’d never hesitated to tell me every feeling she had.
So why was she acting so strange about it now?
“I didn’t. But here’s the thing, sometimes you just need a good cry, you know? Like you just let it out, and you scream at the top of your lungs if you need to, and then you remember all the good things that happened in the same day.”
I heard a sniff and assumed it was Harper before she spoke. “I got the most points in reading today. And I got one hundred percent on my math test.”
Attagirl.
My chest puffed with pride.
“That’s amazing. Sounds like lots of good things.” Violet cleared her throat. “And then something happened that bothered you?”
“Yeah.” My daughter’s voice was just above a whisper.
“Do you want me to go get your dad so you can tell him about it too?”
“No,” Harper said so quickly it felt like a punch to the gut. “I don’t want to tell Daddy what happened.”
Why the fuck not?
Had I done something to make her not trust me?
“Okay. That’s fair. Do you want to tell me? I always feel better when I tell someone why I’m upset.”
“Did you tell anyone why you were upset today?” Harper asked, and there was more sniffing.
“No. But what if we make a deal? You tell me what’s bothering you, and I’ll tell you what’s bothering me?”
I wanted to peek in the room. Were they sitting on the bed together? Were they both sniffing, or was that just Harper?
“I like that,” my little girl said. “I’ll go first because it’s scary going first sometimes, but I’m not scared to tell you.”
“Thanks for being brave,” Violet said. “What happened?”
“Denise Quigley was at aftercare today with me. That’s for kids that stay late because their parents work.”
“Yes. I always went to aftercare,” Violet said. “So what happened there?”
“Denise said that my mama probably left me because my hair is too wavy and I’m short.” I could hear the tremble in my daughter’s voice, and I closed my eyes and tried to breathe slowly. “And she said I dress like a boy sometimes.”
I wanted to storm into her bedroom. This was my daughter, and I should’ve been handling this.
But Violet’s voice was strong and certain as she spoke. “Denise Quigley? Her mom works at the diner, right?”
“Yeah, she works at the Brown Bear Diner.”
“Well, let me tell you, that girl is not nice. I saw her make her brother cry at breakfast once.”
“You did?” my daughter asked, her curiosity impossible to miss.
“Yep. I watched the whole thing. He’s much younger and he was trying to eat his pancakes, and her mom was talking on her cell phone, and I saw Denise pour her glass of juice over the poor little guy’s pancakes.”
“No,” Harper said on a gasp.
“Oh yes,” Violet said. “And I told her mama what she did when she finally got off the phone, and Denise called me a liar and told me to mind my own business. And her mother took Denise’s side.
So, I don’t think I’d be listening to that girl.
And for the record, you dress so great. I love your style.
I mean, look at me, I’m in leggings and a hoodie. We’ve all got our own style.”
“Denise wears glitter shirts, and she has pink tennis shoes,” Harper said, and I made a mental note to take her shopping this weekend.
“Good for her. But anyone who has to make someone else feel bad is just insecure. Trust me, Denise is jealous of you.”
“What’s insector?”
“‘Insecure,’” Violet said slowly on a chuckle. “She doesn’t feel good about herself. So she probably lashes out at you because she wants to be like you.”
“You think so?”
“I know so. I know her type,” Violet said, her voice confident.
“But what if that really is why my mama left?” Harper said, her voice sounding wobbly again.
We’d never talked a whole lot about it. I’d just told her that I loved her so much, and that not everyone has two parents. Her mother came around once a year, and that was just how it had always been.
Obviously, it was time to have a chat about it.
“Well, I don’t know any mamas who leave because their daughter has wavy hair.
I’ve seen Denise’s hair and it’s very straight, and yours is long and dark and wavy, and everyone wants hair like yours.
” She took a breath, and I assumed she was thinking over her next words. “When did you last see your mama?”
“I saw Caroline last year on my birthday. She left me when I was just a little baby girl because she knew Daddy loved me enough for two parents.”
I leaned my head back against the wall and breathed through my nose as I swallowed back the lump forming in my throat.
I do love her enough for two parents. I’d walk through fire for this little girl without hesitation. And that is the fucking truth.
“Well, that sort of blows Denise’s theory to shreds, right? I mean, if you were a baby, she never saw your hair or how tall you were. Denise is a—” She paused, and I hoped like hell she wouldn’t finish that sentence with any of the words that came to my mind. “Sad little girl, I think.”
“You think she’s sad?” Harper asked.
“I do. Because happy people don’t like to hurt others.”
“My mama does come back, but I don’t call her ‘Mama,’ though.
She only comes on my birthday because she wants to be friends.
Her name is Caroline, and I don’t remember her from last time, ’cause my birthday was so long ago.
So, so long ago. But I don’t think she thought I was short, or my hair was too wavy. ”
“Of course she didn’t. Your hair is so pretty. I wish mine was that long and that color.”
“Your hair is wavy, and you’re so pretty, Violet.”
They both chuckled, and my fucking chest squeezed. Because my daughter had just felt her first heartache, as far as I knew, and now she was laughing.
“I think you’re so pretty,” Violet said.
“Will you tell me why you were sad today too?” Harper asked, and I listened intently.
“I guess the same reason as you. I got my feelings hurt. Someone said something to me that made me feel extra sad.”
“Who said it to you?” Harper pressed.
“Actually, it was my father.”
Harper gasped dramatically, because I knew all her little sounds, and I could just picture her hands over her face as she looked at Violet. “Daddies are never supposed to make you sad. My daddy only makes me smile.”
Damn straight, baby girl.
“Yeah. Well, mine isn’t that kind of daddy. He’s real selfish, but it’s okay.”
“Because he’s insector?”
Violet’s laughter poured down the hallway. “Yeah. He is very insecure. But I have a question for you.”
“What’s your question?” Harper asked.
“Well, you clearly have the best daddy. Why didn’t you just tell him what Denise said to you? He would have told you what I told you, and you wouldn’t have needed to be sad.”
Exactly.
“We can’t tell Daddy about this,” my daughter said, and now her tone was very serious.
“Why?” Violet asked.
“Because I have the best daddy in the whole wide world,” she said, a little giggle escaping. “I don’t want him to think I’m sad that I don’t have a mama. Because my daddy loves me enough for a mama and a daddy. He might not know why my mama really left, and I don’t want Daddy to be sad.”
A loud buzzing noise came from the kitchen, and I startled.
The fucking pizza rolls.
I hurried down the hall before they caught me eavesdropping and I turned off the buzzer.
And I listened as multiple footsteps padded down the hall toward the kitchen.
Violet had gotten my little girl to come out of her room.
I guess there was more to Violet Beaumont than I’d guessed.
I glanced over at her as she beamed down at my daughter, shining all that light her way like a goddamn firefly.