Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Mom called the next day.
“A lookout goes missing, and you don’t tell me?” she screeched in greeting. Impossibly, her voice grew more shrill with each word.
I guess we skipped right over hello, I thought, and cringed.
She had a right to be angry. I’d gone back and forth on whether or not I should tell her, knowing all she would do was worry herself and everyone else into an early grave.
I hadn’t decided yet either way, but clearly, I’d waited too long.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I was distracted by keeping up with everything and didn’t want to worry you.”
“She was in the next tower over!” she shrieked. “And she’s the fourth person to go missing in two months!”
She must have wrung those details out of Dad.
I didn’t have her on speaker, but she was loud enough that Charlie turned from where he stood at the window, binoculars dangling from his neck, and gave me a look that said she has a point.
“Don’t start,” I mouthed at him, gesturing with my hand for him to turn back around and mind his business.
He rolled his eyes and continued with the hourly smoke check.
“The search parties are still out looking for her. She may have gotten lost or injured—they could still find her alive.”
Truthfully, I didn’t believe that anymore, but it was a knee-jerk reaction to soothe Mom’s nerves.
“Just promise me you’re being careful.” She sounded tired.
“I promise,” I answered, staring at the back of Charlie’s head.
We chatted for a few more minutes before saying our goodbyes. “I’ve got to take these cookies over to the church before this afternoon, so I’ll let you go. I love you, Reese's Pieces.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
When I hung up, Charlie faced me again, his mouth kicked up at the corner. “She seems nice.”
“She is. Her worrying gets on my nerves, but I can’t complain, all things considered,” I said, joining him at the window.
“Does she…” he trailed off, blushing. “I mean, the way that cop acted, it seemed like he might’ve wanted to be more than your… friend.” He began nervously twisting the strap of the binoculars. “Are you and he, like, well, I mean, have you—”
“Charlie?”
“Hmm?” His voice was about four octaves higher than normal.
“Are you asking if I’m gay?”
“Uh-huh.”
I bit my cheek to keep from smiling at the way his voice cracked. “Yes, I am.”
“Yes, you’re seeing the cop, or yes, you’re gay?”
“Yes, I’m gay. No, I’m not seeing Tate.”
He cleared his throat, outline flickering a bit. “Oh.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You good?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. So, does she—I mean, she said she was taking cookies to church. Does she know?”
My heart broke a little. The more I learned about Charlie, the more it felt like I’d always known him, but then I’d suddenly remember he grew up decades before me. Of course, there were still people nowadays who couldn’t come out to their family, but a lot had changed since he was alive.
“Yes, she does. My dad knew well before Mom, I think. But the summer I turned sixteen, my step-dad, Keith, caught me making out with the neighbor boy by the pool. So, you know, that sort of blew the door off that secret.”
His eyes widened. “What did he do?”
I chuckled. “He told me I should talk to my mom about a few things, and then invited him to stay for dinner.”
I’d probably never forget the sight of Keith standing in front of us, grill tongs in hand, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.
“And they were ok with it?” Charlie asked quietly.
“More than ok with it. They’ve always loved me for who I am. After that, Mom found a church down the street that flew a rainbow flag in the parking lot.”
He looked a bit misty-eyed. “That’s really nice. I didn’t—I mean, I had girlfriends. I liked women. But I also liked men. I just never had a chance to act on it, or maybe it was easier to ignore it. I’ll never know what my family would’ve thought, but I’ll always wonder.”
He shrugged and peered through the binoculars again, as if he hadn’t just said something important. The clenched muscle in his jaw spoke differently.
“How old were you when you died?” I asked quietly.
“Twenty-nine.”
Fucking hell. Twenty-nine. He’d been on the cusp of settling into his life; enough experience to have an idea of what he wanted to do, who he wanted to be, only for it all to be snuffed out.
I reached out to pat his back. He was cooler this time, and while my hand didn’t fall through his body, it felt more like that just-barely-close-enough magnetic pull right before touching someone, than actually making contact.
Like he was there, and not there. “I’m really sorry you never had the chance to find out. ”
His light flared, and his back solidified beneath my palm. “It feels good that I got to tell you.”
I studied his profile. “Do you want me to look up your family for you? To reach out?” I doubted his parents were still alive, but hadn’t he mentioned a sister? Maybe he had cousins?
At the moment, I couldn’t imagine something I’d rather do less than cold call a stranger to tell them I was living with the ghost of their dead family member, whom everyone assumed was a serial killer, but I found myself offering anyway.
Who the hell am I? I regularly ordered delivery online so I wouldn’t have to speak to another person.
But if it helped ease the sadness in his eyes, I’d do it.
“No,” he responded quickly, shaking his head. “No. Not yet. I’m not in denial that Mom and Dad are probably… That they’ve probably passed away.” He cleared his throat. “But I don’t want to know about Frankie yet. Or what she thinks of me, if she’s still alive.”
I nodded. “Is Frankie your sister?”
“Yeah. My older sister. We lived together before I moved out here for the lookout job.”
I took a step back, dropping my hand. “Where are you from?”
“Iowa. I wanted a career in the Forest Service, so when I got this job, I jumped on it, hoping it’d be my way in. Mom and Dad were sad I was moving so far away, but Frankie knew it was where I wanted to be. She was so excited for me.”
Charlie smiled a little, like he could still feel how happy she’d been for him.
Was she still alive? Did she mourn him, or had she done her best to forget her brother-turned-serial-killer had ever existed at all?
“She gave me this for my birthday,” he continued, holding his arms out to indicate the flight jacket he always wore. “It was the last night I saw her. My birthday wasn’t for another month, but she knew we wouldn’t see each other again for a while, so…” Eyes far away, he drifted off in thought.
“When’s your birthday?” I asked softly, pulling him back.
He blinked out of his memories. “June twenty-seventh.”
My mouth popped open. “That’s only a few days away. We have to celebrate.”
“Celebrate?”
“Yes! I’ll get what we need on my supply run. You only turn thirty once,” I said with a sly grin.
He shot me a deadpan look. “I’m well over thirty by now.”
I waved it off. “We’ll celebrate anyway, yeah?”
Charlie got that small, quietly happy look again, as if too afraid to actually look forward to something. He shrugged. “Sure. If you want to, that’d be nice.”
“I want to.”
I really, really did.
Icalled Bobby a few hours later, after Charlie left for his afternoon rest.
“Hey,” he answered. A baby wailed in the background. “Everything going alright?”
“Sounds like I should be asking you that,” I replied, talking through my wireless earbuds. Just about finished with my hourly smoke sweep, I paced around the outer deck to double-check the lightning strike sites I’d reported in the last storm, like Janine said I should.
“Ear infection. Poor girl’s been up three nights straight.”
I cringed. “I’m sorry. Is she okay? How are you two holding up?”
Bobby sighed. “Doctor said it’s normal. Jade and I are alive, but that’s about all. Anyway, how are things there?”
“As good as they can be. Janine’s still missing. Another lookout quit this morning. Everyone’s worried. Oh, and Mom called. She knows. I should’ve told her myself, but now she’s not going to leave it alone.”
Bobby made a dejected noise. “Can you blame her? Have you thought about getting out of there?”
I stopped short. “What do you mean?”
“I mean quit, like the others.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not?” he asked, confused. “It’s not about the money, is it? I’m sure you could figure out somewhere to live for the summer. I can talk to Dad and see if there’s a position for you at the ranger station in town. Anything other than staying out there all alone.”
I turned to go inside, but stopped short when I saw Charlie had appeared. He shook out his blanket and carefully folded it before draping it over the back of his chair. When he looked up, he grinned and waved hello.
“I can’t leave,” I answered, more harshly than I intended to.
“Okay…” Bobby said. Molly’s wailing pitched higher.
“I’m the only lookout left on the west side,” I added, softer. “I don’t want to leave your dad hanging.”
Bobby sighed. “I get that. But—”
“I feel better out here,” I cut in. With sudden certainty, I knew it was the truth. “I haven’t thought about the shit that’s wrong with me in days, Bobby. A lot of that is about what’s going on, sure. And I’m worried for Janine. But it’s also just being out here. I enjoy this.”
My eyes caught on the way Charlie tentatively picked up the binoculars, his hands tangling in the straps. “I’m not ready to go back to real life yet. I feel like I’m just finding it again, if that makes sense.”
He shushed the baby in the background. “You do sound lighter. And I’m happy for that. I just don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all.”
I looked at Charlie again. “I’m being careful.”
Scritch scratch scritch scratch scritch
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I groaned, tossing my sketchpad aside.
It was late, well after dark. I sat in bed sideways, with my back to the wall, facing Charlie. As usual, he hovered near the wood stove, and the way the firelight danced along his cheekbones had inspired me to practice my shading.
For no particular reason.
He peered up from the book in his lap. “What’s that noise?”
“This goddamn raccoon won’t leave me alone,” I grumbled, shuffling over to slide on my Crocs. “I’ve tried everything I can think of to make it go away, but it keeps coming back.”
“Oh, is it Randy?” he asked, excited. Darting over to the window that’d been uncovered when I very first arrived, he peered out. “Hi, Randy!”
SCRITCH SCRATCH SCRITCH SCRATCH
“Who the fuck is Randy?” I asked, tromping over to join him.
“The raccoon!”
And there it was, in the flesh. Fat as it could be, the furry little creature squatted on its haunches in front of the window, chattering excitedly.
It never sounded like that with me.
With its black mask, beady little eyes, and striped tail wrapped around its middle, the little shit waved its tiny hands out, whiskers twitching as if in hello.
The railing wobbled precariously beneath its weight.
“You named the raccoon Randy?”
It stopped chattering and hissed at me.
Charlie glared. “Do you have a problem with that name?”
I blinked at him. “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”
He reached for the window latch. “Not even a little bit. Now move, she wants inside.”
I grabbed his hand and pulled it away. “Absolutely not!”
He glared at me again. “She gets cold at night. She used to live in the old mattress before they came and replaced everything. I couldn’t get the window open when they left and have been worried sick about her ever since.”
I gaped at him, at a loss for words.
Charlie yanked his hand out of mine and undid the window latch, cranking it open. “Come on, girl,” he cooed, reaching his hand out. “I bet you’ve been so cold and hungry out there all on your own. I’ll cut you up a hot dog, how’s that sound?”
“Doesn’t look like she’s been hungry,” I grumbled.
The raccoon hissed at me again and scurried farther down the railing.
“Don’t be mean,” Charlie scolded.
Despite his coaxing, five minutes passed, and he hadn’t cajoled her any closer. “She doesn’t like you,” he huffed, hands on his hips.
“Would you like me to sleep on the deck, instead?”
He peered up at me as if debating it, before he sighed. “I suppose not.”
“You suppose not?” I asked, offended. “You’d rather live with her than me?”
He smirked. “Spot the difference.”
I laughed so hard my stomach hurt. “How do you know it's a she?” I asked when I could breathe again, wiping my eyes. I hadn’t been light-headed from laughing in… Months? Longer?
“She brought her babies here a few years ago,” Charlie said fondly, as if reminiscing. When I looked over at him, though, he was staring at me.
I heaved a defeated sigh. “We’ll put a cut-up hot dog out for her tonight. But only for tonight. Will that make you happy?”
Charlie’s eyes twinkled. “Yes. It would.”
And that was how I became a beaded-curtain-believing man who fed a raccoon named Randy.