Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
Sam Todd hadn't heard that voice in five decades.
He was standing before he knew it, the men with him forgotten as he glimpsed the woman who'd just come into the store and gave Imelda a laughing response. The voice was older, of course, maybe a little deeper than it had been when he'd last heard it, but even if his fox hadn't come to full alert, Sam would have known Charlotte Nelson's soft tones anywhere in the world.
And it might have been less shocking anywhere but here, at home in Virtue.
The hair that peeked out from under a badly-knitted green hat was white now, soft curls curving around the brim. The shape of her cheekbone was much the same, though he couldn't really see anything else of her beyond the high collar of her winter coat. Still, it was his Charlotte, and if he'd had any doubts, they fled as she turned to smile at the table he was at.
God , she was lovely. As lovely as she'd been when they were eighteen, with a ready smile, gentle brown eyes, and a comforting presence he could sink into. Her cheeks were pink from the cold right now, and her lips, a little thinner than he remembered, were compressed even as she smiled. She was everything he remembered: sweet, wonderful perfection.
Right up until all the color drained from her face when she saw him. A horrible sick lurch shot through Sam's gut as he realized—remembered—that she thought he was dead. For all she knew, she was seeing a ghost, right now. She clutched at the display case to keep her balance, and Sam opened his mouth to offer some kind of reassurance that came out as a helpless croak of sound.
Garius, closest to Charlotte, came to his feet and caught her weight to make certain she didn't fall. She made a sound not unlike the one Sam had just made, steadied herself, and gave the big shifter a weak smile. "Thank you." Her gaze flickered back to Sam instantly, though, and Garius, following it, got an expression of sudden understanding.
"You're welcome. May I invite you to our table?"
"Oh." Charlotte barely vocalized the word, then cast an uncertain glance between the store's proprietor and the men at the table. "I just…came in for…coffee and a doughnut…"
"Conri and I," Garius announced firmly, to Conri's strangled noise of protest, "were just about to take our coffee and doughnuts for a walk around the square. Why don't you take our places? And my bear claws."
Charlotte, rallying, said, "I don't think I can eat four," with audible amusement, but let Garius guide her to the table while Sam continued to stand there like a fool, gaping helplessly, hopelessly, adoringly, at the woman he'd lost decades earlier. Conri made another sound of protest that ended with Garius levering him up from his seat and bodily walking him out the door. Sam caught him muttering something about sparks flying as the door jangled shut again, and then for all he cared in the world, he was alone with Charlotte Nelson.
He only realized he was still standing when she said, "Well. Shall we sit?" in a wry tone. It jolted him into action, an abrupt step toward her, which would have worked better if the table hadn't been between them: he crashed into it with his thighs, yelped, and as the silverware clattered and coffee slopped, sat back down.
"Charlotte?" It was the first thing he'd said since he'd seen her, and his voice was faint with confusion and hope.
She smiled, the soft gentle smile he remembered so well, and sat in the chair Garius had been in. "It's Lola now."
"Lola." Sam cradled the name in his soul. "You always liked that nickname. I remember…you convinced the yearbook to use it, the last year, didn't you?"
"God, I don't remember. Are you all right?"
"I've never been better," he replied, stunned, then realized she meant whether he'd hurt himself walking into the table. "Yes, fine, but…no. Lola…? I looked for you," he said desperately. "I never stopped looking for you. But you disappeared, you…"
"Well," she said slowly, "you were dead."
Sam laughed, a cracked sound, and put his face in his hands before looking up again. "Yes. Obviously not, but…I'm sorry, Char…Lola. They had no right to do that. Did you…" So many questions swirled through him, he honestly had no idea where to begin, and he imagined she had at least as many to ask him in return. After a few struggling seconds, he said the one thing he knew absolutely to be true: "I have never been so happy to see anyone in my life as I am to see you right now."
To his relief, Lola's smile blossomed, bright and beautiful. "Me either. Oh, Sam ."
He couldn't say which of them pushed the table out of the way (spilling more coffee, but he didn't care). He just knew that suddenly they were hugging, his nose buried in her soft white hair, and nothing else in the world mattered. She was alive. The only woman he had ever loved, the only one he'd ever wanted to love, was alive and in his arms and nothing, nothing , could be wrong in this moment.
When they finally released the embrace, Lola's brown eyes were bright with tears that she carefully daubed away. "I don't know how I imagined this would go," she whispered. "I didn't imagine spilled coffee and…what is a 'bear claw' doughnut?"
"Mostly a joke for Mr Beren," Sam said. "Because he's…"
A shifter, his fox prompted. A bear shifter.
Sam nodded, but the thing was…they'd been kids when they last knew each other. Madly in love, but kids. He had only been struck with the certainty that Lola was his fated mate a few days after their high school graduation. A few weeks before they disappeared from each other's lives for decades.
He had never had the chance to tell her that he was a shifter. And now, sitting in a doughnut shop, seeing each other for the first time since they'd been teens…was obviously not the time or place to tell her.
She'll understand, his fox promised. Mates always do.
Yes, but…
"Large?" Lola asked, amused. Sam blinked at her a few times, having totally lost his own train of thought before it came back to him in a crash of recollection.
"Right. Yes. Mr Beren is very large. Bear-sized, even. Yes." That was the most obvious explanation for the bear claw doughnuts being for Garius specifically. A hazy sense of disbelief rolled through Sam as he gave his mate a helpless smile. "I don't know what I'd imagined either," he told her. "I've imagined this day so often, Lola, so many times a day for so many years, and now…now I don't know what to do. What to say. How is that possible? How could I have been practicing this in my head for so long, and be at a loss when it happens?"
"Well," she said again with that same slow thoughtfulness, "you probably didn't imagine a doughnut shop and spilled coffee, either."
He glanced at the mess he'd made, then back at her with a rueful smile. "You're right. Not once. Not once in a million dreams was there spilled coffee or doughnuts. They're almond-filled, usually. Bear claws are."
Charlotte Nelson—Lola Nelson, or whatever her surname was now—gave him a very solemn look, and with the quick dry humor he remembered from their youth, said, "Don't be silly, Sam. Bear claws are full of keratin, just like human fingernails. Almonds. Hnf. Well I never."
Sam laughed, bright and joyful, and felt like it had been years since he'd heard himself laugh that way. "Smart aleck. You haven't changed much, Lola."
Her eyebrows, feathery and white now, rose as she first glanced, then gestured down at herself, indicating the years and their toll since they'd last seen each other. Sam shook his head, still with a smile. "You know what I mean."
"I do. I admit, when I saw you, all I could think was you hadn't changed at all."
Sam discovered it was impossible not to do that downward glance and gesture, the one that encompassed all the inevitable changes that age brought. Lola said, "You know what I mean," and of course, he did, although she added, "The beard is new, though. I'm going to have to think about that."
"I can shave it," Sam said promptly, although he also brushed his hand over it rather possessively. "One of my kids told me I looked like Santa Claus with it, though, so I kept it."
Shock filled Lola's brown eyes, although it was tempered a moment later with understanding. "Of course you have children. How many?"
"Mostly foster kids," Sam admitted. "I never married or had any serious relationships after…" As her eyes widened again, he took a deep breath and tried to answer the questions she'd actually asked. "Quite a few. Most of them were relatively short-term, but I had a handful who stayed with me. You?" he asked a little hesitantly.
He thought she hesitated, too. "One daughter. I did get married, after a while. And my granddaughter… she ended up in Virtue, somehow. That's how I found out you were alive."
Sam felt his eyebrows fly upward. "You knew ?"
"Only for a few weeks now," Lola said hastily. "It's taken me that long to nerve myself up to visiting. Not because I didn't want to see you, although of course I didn't know how you might have changed, or if you'd want to see me , but…" She glanced out the window at the vast town square, and spoke quietly. "It wasn't a happy time, when I left Virtue. I wasn't sure I wanted to come back here . If you can understand the difference."
"I do, but…" Sam spread his hands. "I have so many questions, Lola."
Her laugh, high and fluting, sounded strained. "Oh, believe me, so do I. It just…this doesn't seem like the place."
"No. No, it doesn't, but…I'm so glad to see you." It was such an understatement Sam was almost embarrassed to say it, but the tender smile he received in response was everything he could hope for.
"Me too," Lola whispered. "Oh, me too, Sam. I hardly know what to do with myself, but I'm so glad to see you."
"Would you like to—" Sam bit off the impulsive question, then rushed ahead with it. "Would you like to come out to the house this evening? Or tomorrow? So we can talk?"
"The house." Lola's face went blank for a moment, as if she was repressing a memory. "Your parents' house. Of course that would be yours now. Oh, God, Sam, I don't know. The last time I was there was for your funeral, for heaven's sake, and it didn't go well."
"My funeral didn't go well?" he asked in astonishment. He'd known they had one for him, before he'd made his way back home months later. But he'd imagined it as a heartbroken, solemn affair that his parents, for obvious reasons, didn't like to talk about. The idea that it hadn't gone well was almost laughable, if it weren't for the old pain in Lola's eyes.
"No one told you," she said after a moment. "Oh, my. Well. You know your parents didn't like me."
Sam closed his eyes briefly, feeling his expression say everything that needed to be said, although as he opened his eyes he also spoke aloud. "I do know. We had a lot of fights about that."
His fox sniffed with disdain bordering on fury. They were stupid. Fate is the best mate.
"I know you did," Lola said with a sigh. "And so did I, with them. Oh, Sam. There's so much to explain and part of me wants to pretend none of it ever happened or matters, and in a way I suppose it doesn't. It's been so long. But at the same time…"
"It doesn't matter," Sam said firmly. "Because we have now, whatever we make of it, no matter what else." His voice gentled, and he put his hand out across the table, hoping she would take it. "I don't know what you might want from this reunion, Lola, and I'm not going to push you about that, either. Not ever, but especially right now, when we've got so much to figure out about what happened. But please believe me. There's nothing I want more in the world than to hear your story."
To his relief, and with an electric sensation of joy, Lola gently fitted her hand into his. Her skin was cooler than he remembered, the bones more prominent in her fingers, knuckles larger than they'd been, but her touch was exactly as it had been so long ago: one part steady comfort and one part sparking connection, saying they belonged together in a way he never could with anyone else. Lola smiled at their joined hands, lifting her gaze to his. "My hand never did fit quite right in anyone else's."
"That's just what I was thinking."
Lola took a deep breath and shook her head. "I don't think I can face your house yet, honestly. Could we meet somewhere else? My granddaughter has an apartment over the new bar."
" Hold My Bear ?" Sam asked. "I went in there once just after they opened. It was so nice I ran away again."
"Right?" Lola laughed aloud and squeezed his hand. "It was such a dive when we were kids. I couldn't believe it when Charlee told me she was working there, and I couldn't believe it even more when I saw the place!"
"Wait, wait. Oh, of course. Charlee must be short for Charlotte. Chef Charlee is your granddaughter? She's only been in Virtue a few months, but she has legions of passionate acolytes in town. Even an old recluse like me has heard people waxing eloquent. I gather she's an incredible cook!"
"I taught her to cook," Lola said with no false modestly, "but she took it to levels I never dreamed of. I'm sure she would bring something up for us if her apartment would be all right with you?"
"It would be perfect," Sam assured her. "And Charlee doesn't even have to feed us, if she doesn't wan?—"
"She'll want to," Lola said dryly, and when he laughed, said, "No, I'm serious. I've been too nervous to eat and she's been fussing. She'll probably bring the whole menu up for us. Sam…" There was longing in his name. "It's so good to see you again."
Sam blurted, "We could go over to her apartment now?" and tried not to cringe at how eager-teen he sounded. "No, that's pushy, I don't mean to be?—"
The store's door bells rang, startling him: he had more or less forgotten the world existed around them anymore. He and Lola both glanced toward the door, and Sam met Garius Beren's apologetic gaze. "Oh, hell. I forgot I was doing business."
"We can arrange to meet again tomorrow," the big man offered. "I just thought I should stop back in and decide on our course of action before leaving you to yours." His smile for Lola was charming enough that she dimpled, although Sam could also almost see her thinking 'what a nice young man.'
"Don't let me interrupt your business," she said. "Sam and I are just old friends, catching up after a very long time."
He knew better, but that 'just' sent a pang through Sam's heart.
From Garius's expression, it showed, because his smile twisted gently. "I appreciate that, but I hate to break up a reunion. Unfortunately, Conri and I are scheduled to leave tomorrow afternoon, so…"
So, with a groan, Sam stood up to leave Lola Nelson behind.