Chapter Four – Marion
Panic gripped Marion. Why had Alfie followed her here?
But that panic was quickly followed by another overwhelming emotion. Disappointment.
Meeting Alfie at the garden center, watching how he interacted with Charlie, how she had drawn him out of his shell, had given her hope. Faith even.
Faith that there were good men in this world.
But this…
This behavior was exactly what she’d learned to recognize as a red flag. Following someone who hadn’t invited you, having others cover for you…these were the warning signs she’d ignored once before when her sister, Heather, met Razor and allowed him to take over her life.
Yet as she studied Alfie’s face, searching for the telltale signs of deception or manipulation, she found only genuine concern mixed with something that looked remarkably like embarrassment.
His hands hung loose at his sides, not clenched.
His body language was open, with no sign of aggression.
And his eyes—those warm, expressive eyes—held no hint of the cold calculation she’d learned to fear.
Marion’s gaze drifted to Charlie, who was creating a small pile of stones beside their plot, completely absorbed in his task. The same boy who’d been practically mute for weeks had chatted about butterflies on the drive over. Because of Alfie.
She thought of Heather, still defending Razor even after everything.
Still insisting he was misunderstood, that his temper was just passion, that his control was just love.
The familiar rage bubbled up in Marion’s chest. Rage at her sister for choosing that man over her own son’s safety, rage at herself for not seeing it sooner, rage at a system that had taken so long to protect Charlie.
Marion forced herself to take a long, steadying breath.
The rage had nearly consumed her in those early days when she’d fully understood what Charlie had become…
a shadow of the bright, curious boy she’d known.
Holding onto that anger would only poison her ability to create the safe, stable life Charlie deserved.
She looked back at Alfie, really looked at him as he stood there patiently. Not pushing, not demanding, just...waiting. Giving her the space she needed to process, to decide...
“Why are you really here?” she asked, her voice low enough that Charlie wouldn’t hear.
Alfie glanced at Charlie, then back at her. Something shifted in his expression, and for a fleeting moment, she saw…vulnerability.
“The truth is...” He paused, seeming to weigh his words carefully. “I felt bad about the mix-up. And I also wanted to make sure that you and Charlie...” Another pause, heavier this time. “I wanted to make sure you were both okay.”
The words hit her like a physical blow. Marion pressed her lips together, swallowing hard against the sudden lump in her throat.
Was it that obvious? Could everyone see the cracks in her carefully constructed facade?
That things hadn’t been okay for so long she’d forgotten what okay even looked like.
“We can take care of ourselves,” she said, the words automatic, reinforcing the walls she’d built so carefully. The walls that kept them safe. That let her function.
“I have no doubt.” Alfie’s face broke into that affable grin, but his eyes remained serious. “But that doesn’t mean we don’t all need a little support. I thought a friendly face might help.”
It had helped. Marion couldn’t deny that when she’d spotted him through the crowd, she’d felt a rush of relief so strong it had surprised her. That strange sense of connection she’d felt at the garden center had only intensified.
“Aunt Marion, look!” Charlie called, holding up a stone. “This one looks like a heart.”
“It does,” she agreed, grateful for the distraction. “Save that one. We can paint it later if you want.”
Charlie’s face lit up at the suggestion, and he carefully set the heart-shaped stone apart from the others.
“He’s a great kid,” Alfie said with a smile.
“He is.” Marion’s voice caught slightly. “He’s been through a lot.”
“Kids are resilient,” Alfie said, then seemed to reconsider. “But that doesn’t mean they don’t need support, too.”
Marion studied him, this man who spoke to plants and understood without being told that Charlie needed space and patience. Who’d followed her here out of concern, not control.
“The tomatoes go in the back,” she found herself saying. “They’ll need the most sun.”
Alfie’s smile was swift and true. He really did wear his heart on his sleeve. “I can help if you’d like. I mean, I do this for a living.”
“I noticed the shirt,” Marion said dryly and was rewarded with a startled laugh.
“Best birthday present ever,” Alfie said, plucking at the fabric. “From my brother. Not Finn, a different brother. He said it suited me because I’m a sentimental sap with a soft spot for seedlings. He thought it was hilarious.”
“How many brothers do you have?”
“Five.” Alfie kneeled beside the plot. Not too close to Charlie, but near enough to be included. “Big family. You?”
“Just me and...” Marion’s throat closed. “Just me and Charlie now.”
Alfie didn’t push for more. He didn’t ask the questions she could see forming behind his eyes. Instead, he picked up one of the tomato plants. “Hey, Charlie, do you want to learn how to plant tomatoes for the best crop?”
“Sure.” Charlie placed the rock in his hands down on the pile and came to hunker down next to Alfie.
“Okay. See how the stem has these little fuzzy hairs?” Alfie held the plant out so Charlie could take a closer look. “When you plant tomatoes, you want to bury them deep, right up to the first set of true leaves. Those hairs will become roots.”
Charlie scooted closer, fascinated. “Roots? Really?”
“Really. Makes the plant stronger. Want to dig the first hole?”
As Charlie eagerly began digging, Marion felt a rush of relief. Maybe she’d been wrong to be suspicious. Maybe, just maybe, Alfie was exactly what he seemed, a kind man who grew things and made terrible puns and somehow understood that the way to her heart was through kindness to Charlie.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
Alfie looked up at her, dirt already smudging his hands. “For what?”
“For following us,” she said, surprising herself with the admission. “For caring enough to check if we were okay.”
His expression softened. “Anytime, Marion. Anytime.”
The way he said her name sent an unexpected shiver through her. Not of fear or wariness, but something warm and unfamiliar. Something she was not ready to name. But was she ready to let herself feel ? To be vulnerable. To trust again.
“Look what I found!” Charlie’s excited voice broke through the moment. He held up a worm, grinning.
“That’s a good sign the soil here is healthy,” Alfie said, crouching down to Charlie’s level but maintaining that careful distance Marion had noticed earlier. “Worms are a gardener’s best friend. They help make the soil rich and healthy.”
“Really?” Charlie carefully placed the worm back in the dirt. “How?”
As Alfie explained about worm castings and soil aeration, Marion found herself studying him again. The patience in his voice. The way he let Charlie lead the conversation. The genuine enthusiasm that lit up his features when he talked about growing things.
“You know a lot about dirt,” Charlie observed when Alfie finished.
“I know a lot about helping things grow,” Alfie corrected gently.
“Sometimes that means understanding the dirt. Sometimes it means knowing when to water or when to wait. And sometimes...” He glanced up at Marion.
“Sometimes it means planting yourself nearby even when you’re not sure you’re wanted, just in case someone needs an extra pair of hands. ”
Marion felt her defenses wavering, and that scared her. In some ways, Alfie might be more dangerous than Razor.
“Can you teach me more about worms?” Charlie asked. “And maybe about the butterflies, too? Do butterflies like tomato plants?”
“Some do,” Alfie said, straightening up. “We could plant some marigolds between the tomatoes. They help keep pests away and attract beneficial insects.”
“Can we, Aunt Marion?” Charlie turned those big eyes on her, more animated than she’d seen him in months.
How could she say no to that? How could she deny him this small happiness when he’d had so little to smile about for so long?
“If Alfie doesn’t mind coming back to help us plant them,” she said, carefully testing the waters. Giving him an out if this was just about today, just about making sure they were okay before moving on.
Boy, she hoped this wasn’t just about today.
“I’ll bring some from the garden center,” Alfie offered immediately. “Different varieties. Charlie can pick which ones he likes best.”
“Tomorrow?” Charlie asked hopefully.
Alfie looked at Marion, leaving the decision in her hands. There was nothing pushy in his expression, no assumption that he had the right to insert himself into their lives. Just that patient hope, waiting for her verdict.
“We’ll see,” Marion said, her standard non-answer when she needed time to think.
But this time, instead of disappointment, Charlie just nodded and went back to his stone-picking, humming under his breath. As if he somehow knew that “we’ll see” was already softening into “probably” in Marion’s mind.
“I should get some stakes to help support the tomatoes as they grow,” Alfie said. “And some twine. I’ll just pop back to the garden center to get what we need.”
“You don’t have to…” Marion began.
“I want to,” he said simply. “I mean, Finn did say I was bringing tools. So, I’d better go get them.”
There was something self-deprecating in his smile that made Marion’s heart ache. He was trying so hard, and not in the overwhelming, boundary-pushing way she’d witnessed in her sister’s relationship with Razor. It was as if he was trying to prove himself to her. Even though she had no idea why.
“Okay,” she said with a nod. She wanted to add hurry back , but she didn’t.
As Alfie headed toward the parking lot, Charlie looked up from his work. “He’s nice,” he said matter-of-factly. “Not scary like...” He trailed off, but Marion knew exactly who he meant.
“No,” she agreed, watching Alfie’s retreating figure. “Not scary.”
“Do you think he really knows about butterflies and worms and stuff? Or was he just being nice?”
Marion thought about the way Alfie had moved through the garden center, the reverence in his touch when he’d checked the seedlings, the genuine joy in his voice when he’d talked about plants responding to human attention.
“I think he really knows,” she said. “I think he loves growing things.”
“That’s good,” Charlie decided, adding another stone to his pile. “Maybe he can teach us. We don’t know much about growing things, do we?”
“No,” Marion admitted. “We don’t.”
And she didn’t just mean plants.