Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
C HARLIE
The crisp October air cools my skin and the earthy smell of the leaves I just finished blowing and raking for my mom loosens up the tension I’ve felt since I arrived here today. Being at the home I grew up in brings back unwanted memories of my childhood and the emotional and verbal abuse my dad handed out to my mom and me on the regular. Sometimes he used his fists to hurt us, too, but that was far less common.
I sip the hot, homemade cider Mom made and the hint of tartness complements the burst of the sweet apple flavor as it hits my taste buds. She and I rest on the patio chairs after doing the fall cleanup in my parents’ yard.
“Thank you so much for helping me today. It would have taken me a week straight to get the leaves cleared.” My mom smiles sweetly at me.
“Of course. You know you can always ask me to help with whatever you need to do around here, right?” She nods. “Though it would be a lot easier on you if Dad had let you keep the leaf blower I bought you for Christmas a few years ago.” There’s an undertone of bitterness in my voice.
“I know, Charlie. But you know your dad thought it was too much.”
I glance down and notice my mom wringing her hands in her lap. Just the mere mention of my dad seems to put her on edge.
“Yeah, well, Dad isn’t the one who does the fall cleanup, Mom. You are. So, it’s easy for him to say to do it by hand.”
“Shhh. If he hears you…”
“He’s not even here yet. Don’t worry, okay?” I smile at her as my way of letting her know I’m very aware of the need to make sure I say nothing in front of my father that will anger him. Not because I’m afraid of him—I’m not a six-year-old boy growing up with a rage-filled father anymore. But I don’t want to make anything worse for her, even if it kills me not to put the asshole in his place.
Mom and I sit quietly for a few more minutes, sipping our cider and watching a small herd of deer grazing at the edge of the wooded part of their yard. They scatter when the slamming of the metal screen door behind us startles them. I glance over my shoulder and see my father.
“Charles, what are you doing here?” He doesn’t even bother to say hello.
“Just helping Mom clean up the leaves.” My eyes remain on the woods when I answer him.
“I suppose you couldn’t do it the man’s way and you brought your fancy leaf blower here, huh?”
I don’t respond to him since I know from experience it just makes him worse. And Mom will be the one here to deal with him when I leave.
“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue just like when you were a kid?” He chuckles, like he thinks he’s funny, and takes a swig of the beer he brought out with him. Mom’s eyes dart back and forth at my father and me.
A memory flashes through my mind, one that invades my thoughts more often than I’d like to admit.
Clinging to Mom’s pant leg, I try not to cry because it’ll make him yell more. I’ve learned that lesson the hard way.
“I said tell me why you’re so late, Marianne! It doesn’t take that long to pick him up from school. What were you doing? Who were you talking to?”
“Charles, please. I was just slow today. I swear I didn’t linger.”
I know it’s my fault he’s yelling at her. I was the last kid out of the classroom today. I should have been faster.
“If you won’t tell me the truth, maybe he will. If he can get his fucking words out, that is. Tell me, Charles, who was your mom talking to after school that made you guys so late?”
I glimpse up at my dad. “N-n-no one. I-I was l-l-late.” I’m shaking against my mom’s leg, and she puts her hand on my back to soothe me.
“Jesus, Marianne. When’s he gonna learn to talk right, huh? You give me one kid and he’s fucking stupid.”
“Charles, please. He’s only six.”
I stand. “Nope, Dad. Just gotta go. I have to stop at a friend’s before I head home.” I walk toward the house to put my glass in the sink and grab my truck keys from the counter. Mom follows me in but, fortunately, my dad stays outside to finish his beer.
“Bye, Mom. I’ll see you soon, okay?” I pull her into a bear hug and hold her tight.
“Goodbye, honey. Thanks again for everything. You’re a wonderful son.”
I pull back and look her in the eye. “Mom, you know if you ever have enough of this, you can come stay with me, right?”
A sad smile crosses her face. “I know. But I’m fine, Charlie. He doesn’t hurt me anymore…”
“He might not lay a hand on you, but fists aren’t the only way to hurt someone. Words can hurt, too.” I glimpse my dad walking to the house through the window. “Just remember, you always have a place with me if you need it.”
I pull her in for one more quick squeeze, then head out the back door, passing my father on the way out without acknowledging him. I hate that I have the man’s blood running through my veins and pray I never become like him. I’ll do just about anything to avoid that.
* * *
EMILY
The sizzling of the chicken I’m pan searing and the mouthwatering aroma from the homemade garlic bread cooking in the oven relaxes me. Creating delicious food has always been something that brings me joy. I won’t lie to myself—I’ve been sad since the break-up with Teddy. He’s been in my life for so long. But I also feel sad because I realize that I had tamped down parts of my personality over the years to make room for his. And I hate I let that happen—that it snuck up on me.
A sharp knock on the door followed by Charlie’s voice breaks through my downward thought spiral.
“Hello? Anyone home?”
“I’m in the kitchen,” I call out. Butterflies take flight in my stomach, and it strikes me I’m excited to see Charlie.
A few seconds later, he walks into the kitchen looking ruggedly handsome in worn jeans and a white T-shirt, with an unbuttoned flannel over the top. His dark hair is a bit mussed and sticking up at the crown of his head, but it only makes him look more attractive. Seeing Charlie always cheers me up, and not just because he’s eye candy—which I’m not sure he realizes he is.
I’m not na?ve. Charlie has stopped over more in the last eight weeks when Trina’s not here than is normal for him. I suspect he does it as a favor for Trina to check in on me when she’s working one of her twenty-four-hour shifts at the fire station. Still, I really enjoy spending time with him, and I always feel better—happier—after I see him.
“Geez, something smells amazing.” Charlie plants himself in one of the tall chairs at the large island in Trina’s kitchen.
“It’s chicken piccata and garlic bread. You hungry? I made plenty if you want to stay for dinner.”
Charlie smiles. “Well, I was coming to see if you wanted to order a pizza with me so I’d have company during dinner, but this seems like a much better option.” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in through his nose, then a wide smile spreads across his face. When he opens his eyes, he asks, “Anything I can do to help?”
I can’t stop myself from laughing out loud at that. “No, thanks. I won’t soon forget the debacles you and Trina have made the couple of times you two have tried to cook meals here for us. You guys ruined several good pans and, no offense, the end-product was barely edible.” He grins, under no illusion that he knows his way around a kitchen. “But seriously, I’ve got it covered. And cooking… It relaxes me and helps me destress. Just grab yourself a drink and keep me company.”
As I’m preparing the sauce, several long moments pass in silence between us.
Finally, Charlie clears his throat. A sign I’ve learned over the years that he’s about to say something that makes him uncomfortable. Charlie’s a man of few words anyway, but add in emotional or sensitive topics and sometimes I swear he visibly squirms.
“So, speaking of stress… How are you doing with everything? You’ve had a lot of changes and started a new job all in a few months.”
I lower the heat under the sauce so it can simmer, and I turn to face him. His elbows rest on the island and he has head propped up in his hand. His striking hazel eyes are intensely focused on me as he waits for an answer.
“The job is great. I feel like I’m getting my rhythm for how I want to run my classroom. And the kids are damn adorable. We had an open house last evening, and they were so cute and excited to show their parents their desks and artwork. I’m so lucky the timing for me getting this position worked out.”
“I’m not sure it had anything to do with being lucky. Don’t sell yourself short.”
I don’t mean to, but I snort.
“Hey, I’m serious. The school district is fortunate to have you.”
He looks down at the island, lifts his soda, and takes a sip. I watch him as he rubs his big hand over his beard and his brow furrows. Then he looks up at me and I swallow a lump in my throat as his eyes meet mine.
His voice is quiet, almost rough, when he speaks. “How are you doing about everything else?”
I hold his gaze for a few seconds, then turn back to the sauce and stir it.
“I’m okay, Charlie. I know Trina’s worried about me and has you checking up on me, but you can tell her I’m fine. I’m”—I pause and take a deep breath—“I’m okay. And as painful as it’s all been, I’m finding a bit of myself that I think I lost for a while. Not every woman dates the same man from sixteen years old until she’s twenty-two. I’m learning who I am as an individual, not just part of a couple. So, that’s probably a good thing.”
When I place the wooden spoon in the spoon rest and turn back around, Charlie is standing. And he’s staring at me. Silently, he moves around the island until he’s in front of me. We awkwardly stare at each other for several long seconds until he pulls me against his chest. I audibly gasp. I’ve known Charlie for four years and he’s never hugged me—I’ve always been the initiator the few times we hugged. And his hug is amazing, like being wrapped in a warm, weighted blanket that smells like strength and security, if those things had a smell.
Get a grip. It’s just a hug.
Charlie puts his chin on top of my head and his voice is rough when he speaks. “First of all, I’m not checking in on you for Trina. Well, not just for Trina. I’m checking in because you’re my friend and I care about you. Second, I’m glad you’re finding yourself, sunshine. Because you’re an amazing woman and you’re meant to shine, not be eclipsed.”
I’m at a loss for words, both shocked and thrilled at Charlie’s brief speech to me. I don’t move an inch, not wanting this moment to end. Eventually, he kisses the top of my head and pulls away from the hug, then steps back and puts his hands in his pockets, tilting back on his heels and turning his eyes downward.
I take pity on him and his obvious discomfort with the emotion in what we just shared and change the subject. “The food’s just about ready. Can you grab some plates, and we’ll eat?”
Charlie nods and makes his way to the cupboard where Trina keeps her plates, pulling down two. A few minutes later, I’ve plated our food and we’re sitting outside at the table on the patio since we want to take advantage of the last few gorgeous fall days. It’s a little chilly, but a sweater suffices to keep me warm.
After we eat, Charlie gestures over to Trina’s wood pile. “Do you want me to build you a fire inside before I head home? I think the temperature is supposed to drop over the next few hours.”
“Ooh, that would be great. You know Trina doesn’t want me messing with the fireplace after I forgot to open the flue last winter. She said the house smelled like smoke for weeks.”
Charlie chuckles and a smile breaks out across his face. “Oh, I remember. And the smell did last for a really long time.”
A half hour later, Charlie has a roaring fire going and I walk him to the door.
“Bye, Em. See you soon, okay?”
I nod and he turns to leave.
“Hey, Charlie?” He stops and looks over his shoulder, meeting my eyes. “Thank you,” I whisper. “You’re a good man. A really good man.” My voice is soft, and I hold his gaze as I speak.
He smiles at me, but there’s disbelief in his eyes and he subtly shakes his head. And he walks away, leaving me staring after him, confused about the sad smile and why Charlie would ever think he’s not a good man.