Chapter 20 Adelaide #3
His expression reminded me of how he’d looked in first grade, when one of the older boys had called him a sissy for not fighting when they tripped him on the school bus.
I’d stood up for him then, and I felt the same tug to do it now.
“Listen to me, Charlie McCauley. You are, too, a hero. You were over there in a trench, fighting for freedom, and you were wounded. And that makes you a hero, absolutely and positively.”
He shook his head.
“I bet you were trained to run when a grenade is thrown, correct?”
He slowly nodded.
“Well, then, you did the right thing, the absolute right thing, the thing you were trained to do. And it must have been harder for you than for the others, because you were sick and weak with dysentery. So don’t you waste one more moment of your life thinking you’re anything less than the hero you are. Do you understand me, Charlie?”
A lone tear tracked down his cheek. He brushed it away and pressed his eyes tight together.
“Tell me you understand,” I demanded.
He opened his eyes, gave a slight smile, and snapped a salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
I grinned at him. “That’s more like it.”
“Boy, you’re beautiful when you’re bossy.
” He reached out and touched my hair. “You have such a way about you, a way of making everything better.” He twisted my hair strand around his finger.
His eyes glowed with a soft love light, so adoring and tender that it made me queasy to know I would hurt him.
“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Addie.
Thinking about you was what pulled me through.
And now—well, I can hardly believe you’re here. ”
A torrent of love poured from his eyes. He was about to kiss me.
I couldn’t let that happen. I abruptly lifted my fingers from his arm and shifted away. I tried to hide the awkwardness of the moment with a bright smile. “You mean you’re here. You’re home! And everyone is so happy and relieved.”
“Everyone?” His gaze practically burned my face. “Are you happy and relieved?”
“Of course.” I busied myself opening the picnic basket.
“Happy and relieved enough to marry me?”
My hands froze on the picnic lid. “Oh, Charlie . . . no.”
“Because of my foot?”
“Of course not!”
“I’m getting special shoes. They say that after a while, I won’t even have much of a limp.”
“Oh, Charlie—that’s wonderful. But that has nothing to do with this.”
Silence pulsed between us. Blue jays chattered in the trees, and a car motor purred down the road behind us. I opened the picnic basket and pulled out a covered dish of fried chicken just to have something to do.
I could feel his gaze on me. “Is it because of what I just told you?”
“Of course not. Don’t you dare try to turn that into an issue!”
“So why won’t you say yes?”
“I told you before you left. I don’t—” God, why was this so hard? “I don’t feel about you the way you deserve for a woman to feel.”
He leaned in and gripped my upper arms. It wasn’t romantic; it was uncomfortable and desperate.
I was still holding the fried chicken. “I can make you feel that way, Addie. When we’re married, and you know everything is sacred and blessed, why, then you can relax and everything will be just the way it should be. ”
I didn’t say anything. What could I say? I clutched the dish of chicken as if it were a shield.
“You think that life is like the movies, Addie—that love is like some kind of magic spell. It’s not that way in real life.”
I knew damned well that it could be, but I couldn’t say it. “It’s not just that, Charlie. I love being independent. I want to work and travel and see the world.”
“Travel’s not what it’s cracked up to be. It’s messy and inconvenient and believe me, there’s no place as wonderful as home. Move back here, Addie. Move back, and let’s get married.”
I shook my head, tears welling up in my eyes.
The wounded look in his eyes made me feel like I’d just kicked a puppy.
“Is there someone else?”
I didn’t answer. What could I say? I looked through the picnic basket as if I were ravenous. “I’ve had enough of this talk, Charlie. Let’s eat.”
He put his hands on my wrists, stopping me. “Answer me, Addie. Is there a man waiting for you in New Orleans?’”
Joe wasn’t in New Orleans anymore, so I could answer truthfully.
“No. And I’m seriously tired of talking about this.
Let’s just eat our lunch and have a good time, Charlie.
I’ll tell you all about my job and all the news about Margie and the USO, and you can tell me more about the funny things you wrote me about—about the pranks the guys pulled on each other on the ship over, and how you hid the sergeant’s shoes.
Let’s just have a good time and not spoil everything by talking about the future. ”
“Talking about the future will spoil everything?” His voice had a bitter edge to it I’d never heard before.
“I’m just not ready, Charlie.” And I never will be. But I couldn’t tell him that. Not with his shoeless, sock-clad foot hanging out of his pants, and his collarbones sticking out of his shirt, and his eyes so haunted and forlorn that I couldn’t bear to meet his gaze.