Chapter 18
Oliver had barely raised his hand to knock on Charity’s door when it flung open, revealing her anxious face. Without hesitation, her hand shot out, and her fingers curled in the front of his shirt. She pulled him forward, and he willingly allowed her to manhandle him. Stepping inside her apartment, the playful remark he was ready to speak faded as he registered the look in her eyes. She needed more from him than a joke.
The week had been long and taxing, with Charity on edge every day that Kofi and Ramzi did not come back to the center. Since he was now on other assignments, they had spent hours on the phone every night. He’d listened as her emotions bounced from worry to hope and back to worry again.
The overnight bag he carried with him dropped to the floor before he wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her close. He kissed the top of her head as her cheek rested against his heartbeat.
She didn’t need to say a word. He understood the depth of her concerns, and his protective instincts surged. But he knew it was Charity’s caring nature to feel so deeply, and he wasn’t about to take that away when it made her who she was.
She lifted her head and offered a small smile. “I know I’ve been a basket case this week with everything going on, but I really want us to have a good evening.”
“Charity, honey, if you let me help you, I promise it’ll be a good weekend.”
Her smile settled firmly on her face. “Perfect.”
He bent and took her mouth, wanting to take her mind off anything other than the feel of their bodies pressed together. His tongue slipped between her lips, delving deeply, and the anticipation of what was to come hit straight to his cock.
An alarm sounded from the kitchen, and she jumped back, ending the kiss too soon. Eyes wide, she exclaimed, “Oh! Dinner!” She turned and ran through the living room and into the kitchen.
He sighed, adjusted his crotch, then followed her. A glance revealed the table set for two with several candles lit in the middle. A delicious scent reached his nose, but his attention was on her ass as she bent over to pull the casserole dish from the oven.
She turned and held up the dish covered in a lightly browned crust. He had no idea what it was, but it smelled amazing.
“It’s homemade chicken potpie,” she announced. “I use puff pastry on the top and bottom, so it’s really good!”
They were settled at the table a few minutes later, their plates piled high with her home-cooked meal. The light had already faded through the window in the kitchen, but the candlelight sitting on the table flickered its illumination in her eyes.
He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had fixed dinner just for him as part of a date. He quickly cast his mind back through the years and realized that tonight was a first. He’d never wanted a woman to arrange a scene of domestication when the only amount of time they’d be together was a few hours of sex.
But looking at Charity across the table, the candlelight casting a glow on her face, and eating the meal she’d cooked, he couldn’t imagine a better start to a date night.
He lifted his beer. “Here’s to our second date.”
She laughed and shook her head. “As much time as we’ve spent together here at the center, and all the calls and texts, this doesn’t really seem like just a second date, does it?”
He smiled and wholeheartedly agreed. “Then here’s to the continuation of us.”
She grabbed her glass of wine and clicked it against the neck of his beer bottle. “Now that’s a toast I can celebrate.”
“I hate to ask anything that’s going to bring the evening down, but we might as well get it out of the way. Have you heard anything today?”
Her shoulders slumped, and she sighed as she put her wineglass down. “I haven’t heard anything from them. I asked a few of the kids if they knew Ramzi or Kofi, but they didn’t. One of the girls said she thought she remembered Kofi from several years ago in school. She said the only reason was because his name was so unusual.” She looked up with worry lines etched into her face. “What do you think they’re into? Do you think they’re okay?”
He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Sweetheart, there’s no way to know. It was obvious that they had moved in with somebody who was using them for something. Drugs? Stealing? Something that makes them vulnerable and feel trapped.”
“Because I know it must be dangerous, I’m terrified. But I also know I’ve met many kids, and each has a story. Some came and stayed. Some came and left immediately because they couldn’t handle the center”s rules. Some had so many difficulties that the center wasn’t right for them. But I can’t help but think that Ramzi and Kofi would be very successful here.”
“I agree, but only if it’s what they truly want.”
She nodded and let out a sigh. “You’re right, and that’s what I have to tell myself every day when I come to work. There’s only so much I can do.”
By now, the meal was finished, and they quickly cleaned the dishes and the kitchen. They linked hands as they wandered into the living room, where he sat on the sofa and pulled her down with him.
He cupped her cheeks and kissed her gently, then nuzzled his nose over her jaw, trailing kisses over her face. Leaning back, he asked, “Do you want to know what I thought of this week that I hoped for tonight?”
Her breath hitched underneath his kisses. “What?”
He held her gaze. “I know more about Ramzi and Kofi’s backgrounds than yours. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but we’re a little unbalanced for us starting out. You know about my family, the relationship I have with my brother, and you’ve met Leo and Natalie. Sweetheart, I hope you feel you can trust me with your story as well.”
She held his gaze, her face easing into a soft smile. He breathed a sigh of relief, seeing that she didn’t tense up or become upset.
Instead, she offered a little shrug. “There’s not really much to tell. I don’t have a terribly exciting story.”
“I don’t want you to tell me anything you don’t want to share,” he said, his voice gentle but filled with curiosity. “But I hope tonight will go the way I think we both want it to go. We’re not just two people meeting for a night and then moving on. You absolutely fascinate me, and I’d like to know how you became you.”
She pressed her lips together, a contemplative look in her eyes as she gazed around the room. He didn’t feel she was avoiding looking at him, but more like she was just gathering her thoughts. He waited patiently, eager to receive the gift of knowing her better.
Finally, her gaze settled on him with a little smile playing over her face. “You know how most people have names that somehow meant something to the parents. My name meant something to my mom. And even though it might seem really awful to some people, I’ve always liked it.”
He stared at her soft smile, thinking everything about her was beautiful, especially her name. “What did Charity mean to your mom?”
She shifted next to him, getting comfortable. “My mom was seventeen years old when she got pregnant with me. She was at the beach with friends and met some soldiers on leave. One of them seemed to like her. They hung out for most of the week he was there. And then he went back for an overseas tour. They sent emails back and forth a few times, but it wasn’t long before they stopped. She was heartbroken, but more than that… she discovered she was pregnant. Her parents couldn’t stand the idea that their teenage daughter was pregnant. She tried to let my dad know and finally got ahold of a friend of his who said he’d been killed in action. Her parents kicked her out of the house. She lived with a friend for a while, but they couldn’t keep her and a baby, so she moved into a homeless shelter.”
“Jesus, Charity.”
“When it was time for her to give birth, there was a free clinic that provided services. She said she thought they would be judgmental and rude, but everyone there was so nice. When they placed me in her arms, she looked up and saw one of the signs on the wall that said Charity begins at home. She thought how much she wanted a home for her baby, so she named me Charity.”
“Fuck, sweetheart,” he muttered, his heart clenching at the thought of the origins of her name.
She shook her head gently. “No, don’t you see, Oliver? I was named for all the people who had been so kind to her. My mom might’ve been young, but she knew enough to find people who could help her, and that’s what she did.”
“And after you were born? Was she still able to get help?”
“They encouraged her to get in touch with my dad’s parents. She tracked them down, but they didn’t believe her. They weren’t interested in a paternity test, and she wasn’t going to push. If they didn’t want to know if their son had a child, then she always said it was their loss.”
“So what did she do?”
“There was a shelter for moms with babies or small children. They offered childcare as long as the parent was working at least thirty hours a week. So she worked, and we stayed there until I was almost two years old. It was crowded, and she was determined to have a place of her own. She saved every dime, and when I turned two, she had enough money for a first month”s rent and security deposit on a camper.”
He was taken aback, barely able to maintain a steady expression, and hid his startle.
She sighed. “I know what you’re going to say. A camper? I suppose it was more like a tiny mobile home. A woman who lived close by would babysit some of the kids as her way of making money. So Mom kept working as a server for another year. Then the woman convinced her that if she worked with her, they could do child care for more money than she was making in tips. Mom wasn’t too sure at first, and she simply took night shifts and Sundays at the diner. But the woman was right. They made enough as an unofficial daycare so she could quit the diner.”
“What memories do you have?” he asked, emboldened by her soft smile and desperately curious about everything she could share.
“Playing with other kids in the mobile home park and having Mom close by. She was always smiling and singing. And could bake the best sugar cookies.” She smiled as her gaze shifted to him. “Mom and I would plant flowers and some vegetables outside the house. I loved our garden.” Looking back at him, she admitted, “That’s why I have plants in the bedroom near the window. It’s my little garden.”
Oliver tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. He knew there was so much more to her story and was consumed by knowing every detail. He’d never felt that about another person before. Not his fellow soldiers. Not the Keepers he was working with. With Charity, he wanted to know everything—her memories, her secrets, what made her smile, and what made her cry. With her tears, he wanted to know how to keep them from falling. And if he couldn’t, he wanted to be the one to wipe her tears away.
“I grew up poor,” she continued. “The kids in the mobile home park traded clothes as we outgrew the ones we were wearing. We went to the same school, and while I don’t condone violence, a few of the boys and some of the girls didn’t mind swinging their fists if someone made fun of us for being poor.”
She chuckled as if fond memories were flooding back into her mind. “Of all the wonderful lessons my mom taught me, do you want to know the one I think is the most important?”
“Charity, I want to know everything,” he replied, his eyes locked onto hers with intensity.
Her smile widened, and she met his gaze head-on. “Mom would tell me that there was always someone worse off, and we needed to count our blessings. I came home one day after visiting with a friend who lived in a big home. I was kind of down about our tiny home. My mom reminded me that people who lived under bridges and on park benches would consider our small trailer a perfect home.”
At the word blessing, he blurted, “I met a woman named Blessing at the USO in the Atlanta airport. She quoted someone I can’t remember, but it was about comfort, good food, talking with someone, and how that makes a home.”
Nodding, Charity said, “That sounds like what my mom would say. Home is being with the ones who make you feel good.”
“What else did she tell you?”
“Every morning, when she woke me up, she hugged me.” Charity began to blink back the moisture gathering, but a tear rolled down her cheek. “She would give me a hug and tell me that I could be anything I wanted. I had a bright future.”
Oliver’s eyes stung, and he felt his chest compress. Charity. Bright Futures Home. He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Tell me more.”
She closed her eyes, sucked in a deep breath through her nose, and let it out slowly. She opened her eyes and looked deeply into his. “When I was sixteen years old, Mom went to the grocery store. That was the last goodbye hug I received. She was a victim of a senseless act of violence. A kid pulled a gun to rob the cashier, and my mom came around the corner, not realizing what was happening. He panicked, aimed toward her, and fired. The police said that when he saw what he’d done, he turned the gun on himself. Two lives were lost, so pointlessly.”
Gutted, Oliver could barely hear over his heart pounding and wondered how Charity could share her story and keep breathing.
“She lived long enough for the cashier to rush over to her, and her last words were, tell my daughter that I love her.”
“Her last thought was of you,” he said, his voice shaky.
“That was my mom. She let me know she loved me every day of my life.”
“Oh, baby, what did you do then?’
“I didn’t have anyone tell me that I had to move out of the trailer because there was enough money to pay the rent. I kept going to school, and in the afternoons and evenings, I continued childcare and babysitting with our neighbor. I started out at community college on scholarships, and then went to the local college, still living in the trailer park.” She shrugged. “In fact, I lived there until I earned my master”s degree and started working.”
“And your little home?”
“You might think that I’d be so glad to get out of it. But it held the memories of my mom, and even when she was gone, I couldn’t stand the idea of living somewhere she’d never been. And then I realized that the rent was so cheap, I saved a lot of money by living there. But the mobile home park was changing. The old manager died, and the new people didn’t care about the place. My first apartment was near my job, and while it was much bigger than the trailer, it never felt like home. When I was able to move in here, I can’t explain it, but it felt more like home.”
“Maybe it was just the right time. Maybe it was time for a home.”
She smiled and cupped his face with her hands. “I didn’t mean to dump all this on you. Believe me, I had other plans for this evening.”
“I wanted to know everything I could about you,” he said. “But, believe me, the night is young.”