Chapter Six – Marion
“Do you think he’ll come back?” Charlie asked as he placed another stone on the ever-growing pile he was making.
Marion straightened up and placed a hand on the small of her back. She didn’t have to ask who Charlie meant. Even though the question had been asked before, many times, about someone else.
Razor.
But this time, the question was not being asked in fear.
“I’m sure he will,” Marion replied, hoping that Alfie would not let her nephew down.
Because if he did, she feared she might lose another small part of Charlie. The boy had lost so much already.
“I’d like to learn more about soil and growing things,” Charlie said as he carried on sifting out the stones.
“We could learn together,” Marion said.
Charlie looked up at her, considering her words. After a moment, he nodded. “Do you think Alfie will teach us?”
Heat crept across Marion’s cheeks. She could think of no better teacher. Alfie was patient, attentive, and empathetic. Everything she could want in a man.
She mentally shook herself. She was not interested in romance.
They had moved to Bear Creek for a fresh start, and she planned to focus entirely on Charlie.
And anyway, how could she ever trust her heart to a man who made plant puns?
It was obvious Alfie was a nice guy, but not a serious guy.
And she needed serious, she needed sensible. ..
But when the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and she turned to see his truck pulling into the parking lot, her heart gave a treacherous jolt that said perhaps Alfie and his puns were exactly what she needed.
“He’s here!” Charlie ran a couple of steps forward, dropped the two stones he’d been carrying on the pile, and then jogged away to meet Alfie.
Marion opened her mouth to shout a warning, to call him back, but then she clamped it firmly shut. This was what Charlie needed, a new focus, and plants were so much better than some of the alternatives.
As Marion brushed the dirt off her hands and followed Charlie to meet Alfie, resisting the urge to run, she felt lighter. As if today was a turning point. That at last the past was behind them and they had a bright future ahead.
Alfie was heading toward them, his arms loaded with supplies, when Charlie reached him.
“Whoa there,” he laughed as Charlie skidded to a stop. “Do you want to help me carry these?” He nodded toward the collection of stakes, twine, and a tray of bright marigolds balanced precariously in his arms.
“Are those for us?” Charlie asked, reaching for the tray of flowers.
“They sure are,” Alfie said, carefully transferring the marigolds to Charlie’s waiting hands. “I promised you butterfly attractors, didn’t I?”
The boy’s face lit up as he examined the bright orange and yellow blooms. “They’re so bright!”
“That’s how they catch the butterflies’ attention,” Alfie explained, adjusting his hold on the remaining supplies. “Butterflies are attracted to bright colors, especially yellows and purples.”
Marion approached more slowly, watching the easy interaction between them. Charlie was actually smiling. A real smile that reached his eyes. When was the last time she’d seen that?
“Need a hand?” she asked, reaching for some of the stakes Alfie was juggling.
“Thanks,” he said, their fingers brushing as she took them. That same jolt of awareness shot through her, and from the way his eyes widened slightly, she knew he felt it, too.
“I brought everything we’ll need,” Alfie said, clearing his throat. “Stakes for the tomatoes, twine to tie them up as they grow, some organic fertilizer, and of course, the marigolds.”
“And tools?” Marion couldn’t resist asking, one eyebrow raised.
Alfie’s cheeks colored slightly, but his smile remained steady. “Those, too. Trowels, a small rake, even some gloves for Charlie.”
“You thought of everything,” she said, impressed.
“I tried to,” he admitted. “I wanted to make sure you both had what you needed.”
There was something in his voice, a sincerity that made her defenses waver. No one had simply given her what she needed in a very long time. She’d been the one giving, supporting, fighting for Charlie when no one else would.
“Let’s get these planted then,” she said, turning back toward their plot to hide the tears pricking her eyes.
As they walked, Charlie proudly carrying the marigolds, Alfie fell into step beside Marion.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For coming back.”
“I said I would,” he replied as if it were the simplest thing in the world. As if promises were always kept, and people always returned when they said they would.
“People don’t always do what they say,” Marion said, the words slipping out before she could stop them. She felt exposed suddenly, vulnerable in a way she hadn’t allowed herself to be in years.
Alfie paused mid-step, his expression thoughtful rather than offended. “No,” he agreed. “They don’t. But I’m a reap what you sow kind of a guy.”
The honesty in his voice caught her off guard. She’d expected him to defend himself, to insist he was different. Instead, he simply acknowledged the truth of her statement.
Marion kept her eyes on Charlie, who darted ahead, eager to get back to the plot with his tray of marigolds. She never shared a part of herself with anyone. Not since Heather had thrown her concerns back in her face, accused her of jealousy, of trying to ruin her happiness with Razor.
What was happening to her? What was this man doing to her?
Nothing. He wasn’t doing anything to her. Alfie was just being Alfie. Marion glanced sideways at him and had the sudden thought that he was the most genuine person she had ever met. Puns and all.
“But I try,” he murmured. “To do what I say, I mean. I’ve found it’s easier that way. No complicated stories to remember.”
A small laugh escaped her. “Is that your secret? Honesty as the path of least resistance?”
“Busted,” he grinned, shifting the supplies in his arms. “Plus, my mom would kill me if I broke a promise. She raised us better than that.”
“She sounds formidable.”
“Oh, she is,” Alfie chuckled. “Although she has a heart of gold. You’d like her, I think.”
The casual way he seemed it was a foregone conclusion that she would meet his mom made her breath catch. Or was she once again reading too much into his casual comments?
“Aunt Marion!” Charlie called, breaking the moment, as he reached the plot and set his tray down. “Can we plant these now? Alfie said they’ll bring butterflies!”
“Yes. I’ll come help you,” she called back, grateful for the interruption before she could say something foolish. Something that might ruin this perfect morning.
They spent the next hour working side by side, Alfie demonstrating how to stake the tomatoes properly, and showing Charlie the perfect depth for the marigold seedlings. His hands were gentle with the plants, patient when Charlie’s enthusiasm led to a few crushed leaves.
“It’s okay,” he assured the boy when Charlie apologized. “Plants are tougher than they look. Just like people.”
Marion watched them together, the way Alfie seemed to know exactly when to offer help and when to step back. How he listened intently when Charlie spoke, never making him feel stupid no matter what the question.
“You’re good with him,” she said quietly as Charlie proudly watered the newly planted marigolds.
Alfie’s smile was warm but tinged with something like sadness. “He’s easy to be good with. Smart. Observant.” He hesitated, then added, “Careful.”
The word hung between them, loaded with meaning. Yes, Charlie was careful.
Had learned to be careful in ways no child should have to learn.
“He hasn’t always been,” Marion admitted, surprised at herself for sharing even this much. “He used to be fearless. Reckless, even.”
“Life has a way of teaching us caution,” Alfie said with a sideways glance at her. “Sometimes too well.”
Their eyes met, and Marion felt that strange connection again. As if Alfie could see past her defenses to the person she’d been before when she too hadn’t been so careful.
So damaged.
How she missed that person. How she wished one day she could be her again.
“Aunt Marion, look!” Charlie’s excited voice drew their attention. A small yellow butterfly had landed on one of the marigolds, its wings slowly opening and closing in the sunlight.
“Already?” Marion marveled, moving closer.
“They know good things when they see them,” Alfie said, his eyes on her rather than the butterfly.
Heat bloomed on her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. For the first time in longer than she could remember, Marion allowed herself to feel the pull of attraction, of connection, without immediately shutting it down.
Maybe, just maybe, there was room in their new life for more than just safety and stability. Maybe there was room for joy, too. For trust. For a man who kept his promises and talked to plants and looked at her like she was a rare and precious flower.
“I guess you could say the butterfly is experiencing love at first plant ,” Alfie said, gesturing toward the insect still perched on the marigold.
Marion couldn’t help but laugh, bubbled up from somewhere deep inside her, somewhere that had been silent for too long. The sound surprised her almost as much as the heat that threaded through her veins at Alfie’s expression.
His eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned, clearly delighted by her response. There was something so infectious about his joy, his openness, the way he found delight in small moments, and found herself wishing that one day Charlie could approach life with that same unguarded enthusiasm.
“How’s it going?” Finn’s voice interrupted her thoughts as he approached their plot, clipboard still in hand, but his attention fully on them.
“I think we’re going to have an amazing crop of tomatoes,” Alfie replied, standing to greet his brother. “I believe Charlie has green fingers.”
Charlie looked up from where he was patting soil around the final marigold, examining his hands with serious concentration. He held them up, wiggling his fingers in the sunlight. “Nope, not green.”
Marion grinned at her nephew’s literal interpretation, her heart lightening at the glimpse of the old Charlie. The one who had always taken things at face value, who had seen the world in straightforward terms, before life had taught him to look for hidden meanings and threats.
“It’s just an expression,” Finn explained kindly. “It means you’re good with plants.”
“Oh.” Charlie considered this, looking at the neat rows they’d created. “Maybe I am.”
“There’s no maybe about it,” Alfie replied. “Those marigolds couldn’t have been planted better if I’d done it myself.”
The pride that bloomed across Charlie’s face was worth every ache in Marion’s back, every worry about letting someone new into their carefully constructed world.
“The plot looks great,” Finn said, admiring their work. “Must be all that expert guidance.” He shot his brother a knowing look that Marion couldn’t quite interpret.
“It was a team effort,” Alfie replied, his eyes finding Marion’s. “Some things just...work well together.”
The double meaning wasn’t lost on her, and she found herself unable to look away from his warm gaze. Something was happening between them.
Something she hadn’t planned for, hadn’t expected, and hadn’t budgeted for emotionally.