7. Deacon
Chapter 7
Deacon
Sleep evaded me again. My brain had buzzed all night long with thoughts of my conversation with Charlie. She’d wanted to know more about why I was the way I was with her.
I had been so close to telling her the truth. The truth being that for years, I’d been riddled with guilt from the day I couldn’t stop her from being severely injured. And how that experience was another fuck up in my long line of making shit decisions that negatively impacted other people.
I’d wanted to tell her. God, I wanted to tell her so badly.
But when the time came and her bright blue eyes shone with wondrous curiosity, I shut down. That old part of me—the one who’d built walls a mile high—won out. Brick by brick, they shot up leaving me looking like an asshole…once again.
Since moving to Pebble Brook Falls, I’d found a way to open up to my friends. Johnny had been in the military, so he knew the cost those years took from all of us enlisted. He understood what it meant to be forced to make fast decisions and have your comrades’ lives in your hands. It took a while, but when it was just the two of us, I was able to talk about my past. Not much, but enough that I was able to let some of the steam out.
Sarah had taken a less gentle approach over the years and basically forced me to be friends with her. We had an unspoken agreement though. She knew when she was inching too close to my edge and backed off before I had to tell her to.
I had the two of them and it had been enough for me. Now that Charlie was in the picture, I had no idea how to feel or what to think. Part of me wanted to lean in. To stop being so damn closed off. But the second I thought the words might slip from my lips, I clamped up.
Last night was a colossal fuck up and I would have to pay the consequences of seeing Charlie’s disappointment when I went to the cabin this afternoon to work on the dock.
I ran a hand over my face and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. Coffee. I desperately needed coffee.
Meandering through my living room toward the kitchen, my heart kicked into high gear when I heard a knock on my door.
Judging by the lack of sun coming through the windows, it was barely sunrise. I reached for the doorknob and turned it. As the door swung open, I was shocked to find Charlie standing on my front porch.
A rose color bloomed across her cheeks from the cold air, making her freckles stand out even more. The ball at the tip of her nose was rosy too and I found myself wanting to pull her into my arms to ward off the frost that was biting her skin.
Instead, I stood there frozen.
I hadn’t noticed she was carrying something until her arms extended and I looked down to see a woven basket filled with what looked to be chocolate muffins. Most of them had sunken middles and dilapidated tops.
“I brought you these as a thank you for taking care of the chimney last night. And…” Her cheeks hollowed out and her gaze shifted to the ground between us. When she looked back up at me, I hated that there was conflict dancing in her eyes. “For making you feel uncomfortable with all of my questions. I have a tendency to pry, and I know it’s not always fair for the person on the receiving end of the questioning.”
When I didn’t take the basket of muffins, she set the basket down on the ground, then she shifted to the side like she was about to walk away.
I’d already made such a mess of things last night, the last thing I wanted to do was make her feel bad again.
“Wait,” I called out to her before she started making her way down the steps. She turned around, sunset colored hair flitting in the winter breeze. God, she was so beautiful. Charlie didn’t belong in this cold tundra. But somehow, she’d found her way here and every chance I got, I ruined things between us.
I reached for the basket of muffins, and she handed it over to me. “You didn’t have to go through all that trouble. I was happy to fix the chimney. It’s part of my job description as the landlord anyway.”
“Right.” She smiled sheepishly like she’d forgotten that part of the rental agreement. “Well, thank you anyway.”
I nodded.
Gesturing toward her car over her shoulder with her thumb, she said, “Well, I’m going to get back. I hope you enjoy the muffins.”
“I’m sure I will.” I cleared my throat. “Oh, and I’ll be by the cabin later this afternoon to start working on the dock.”
“Great!” Her voice hitched up a few octaves. “See you then.” Long curls bounced up and down as she turned and headed down the stairs toward her car. I was thankful that this time she chose to wear loose sweatpants and a baggy sweatshirt. Though, it didn’t make watching her walk away any easier.
When she was in her car, I shut the door and set the basket of muffins on the kitchen counter. Charlie’s presence this morning was like a ray of sunshine beaming through the dark clouds that always seemed to follow me around.
I knew that anyone who was close to Charlie had a significant gift in their life. She clearly wanted to get to know me, and I was a fool who couldn’t keep the past where it belonged.
There was a nagging sensation in the back of my mind telling me Charlie was right. This all happened for a reason and the more I resisted it, the harder it was going to be for me.
The only thing I wanted after the war and after the fire was to find peace. I’d paid my dues in life and now was the time for me to rest. The problem was that it had already been a week since Charlie moved into the cabin, and I hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep.
Something needed to change.
I just wasn’t sure what that something was.
Frustrated with myself, I snatched one of the chocolate muffins from the basket and bit into it. Dry chunks of batter mixed with undercooked parts melded together in my mouth, creating a doughy paste.
“Blugh,” I groaned before flipping up the garbage bin lid and spitting the bite of muffin into the trash. Then I moved to the kitchen sink, dunking my lips under the running faucet to gather some water in my mouth. I swished it back and forth and spit it out to clear the rest of my mouth.
That was fucking terrible .
As I stood there alone in my kitchen with the bundle of Charlie’s muffins sitting on the counter, I smiled to myself for the first time in a really long time. Warmth spread down my neck, to my chest. The sensation felt bizarre, yet comforting. Like seeing an old friend after years of time had changed him.
She’d gone out of her way to bake me a thank you gift and even though the muffins were fucking terrible, she’d thought of me. It was one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for me in a while.
It didn’t take me very long to decide I enjoyed the feeling and if being around Charlie let me have more of it, then I could learn to live with the discomfort our shared memories brought.
Metal pounding against metal struck through the sound of the river rushing below me as I worked another nail into the new board running across the dock. When I finished the row of nails, I noticed the swish of a white tail out of the corner of my eye.
Peering to my left, I saw Casper trotting over the frozen ground while Charlie struggled with her hands full of what appeared to be paint supplies. Slipping the hammer back into my toolbelt, I rose from the middle of the dock and crossed the yard to the back patio of the cabin.
“Let me help you with that.” I grabbed the large white canvas from under her right arm while she set up the wooden easel.
“Thanks,” she said breathlessly from the effort of carrying too much. After she finished setting up the paints and brushes, she took the canvas from me and settled it onto the middle of the easel.
“I didn’t know you were an artist.” I took a step back as she brought the kitchen stool in front of the easel and sat on it. She reached for a paintbrush, and it was the first time I noticed how slender and delicate her hands and fingers were.
I looked down at my right hand that I sprawled out. Dirt was buried under my fingernails and scrapes from splinters in the wood I’d been cutting and hammering all afternoon darted in all directions over the top of my hand. I didn’t have to look at my palm to know callouses from years of hard labor had formed beneath each digit.
“Yup,” she responded. “I went to Savannah’s College of Art and Design. My parents helped support me until my paintings started finding buyers.” When she turned to settle her eyes on me, there was a brightness there I hadn’t seen before. Like talking about her art made her beam from the inside out. “I’m one of the lucky ones. I landed some spots in a few amazing galleries and found buyers pretty immediately. Now, I do a combination of commission work and selling original pieces.”
“Wow,” I said with genuine surprise. “I’ve never met an artist before.”
Her brows pinched together. “Sure you have. Your friend Sarah does incredible work with her pastries. The chocolate croissant I had was art in food form.”
I snorted. “You have a point with that. Her pastries are pretty incredible.”
“Speaking of, did you have one of the chocolate muffins I made you yet?”
My stomach gurgled as I thought back to the chocolate paste I had to spit into the garbage earlier this morning. But there wasn’t a chance in hell I was going to tell Charlie that her efforts were wasted. I’d eat every single one of them if it meant putting a smile on her face.
“I did. It was pretty good. Thank you again for making them for me.”
A long strand of her hair fell forward against her cheek. My fingers ached to reach out and tuck it behind her ear, to draw my fingertips along the edge of her smooth jaw until my thumb stopped on her bottom lip.
The blue depths of her eyes shuttered for a moment, like she could see right past the walls I’d built between us, straight to the desire that roared through my body. I had a tight leash on it, but when I was this close to her my grip loosened.
She cleared her throat and looked down at the paintbrush in her hand. “I’m glad you liked them.”
With the moment between us severed, I took a step back. I knew I was doing everything wrong. It wasn’t fair for me to tell Charlie that I didn’t want anything to do with her one day and then turn around and gawk at her like she was one of the seven wonders of the world the next.
I knew this…and still I couldn’t stop acting like a fool when she was around—because the connection she’d spoken of last night was one I’d felt the day of the fire too. Maybe it was real, and I was avoiding any sense of emotions that tied me back to that time in my life. Or maybe I had some fucked up savior complex that ignited when I saw a beautiful woman in need of my rescue.
But there was a nudge deep in my core that told me I wouldn’t be feeling this way about anyone else. It was her who had haunted my thoughts for years on end. The image of her suffering from my mistake was branded into my mind and if I wanted any chance of things being normal between us, I was going to have to figure it out.
I shoved my fists into my jeans pockets. “Okay, well I’m going to leave you to it and get back to working on the dock.”
A question passed over her face as her lips parted for a moment. Then, the moment was gone. Instead of urging her to say what was on her mind, I retreated down the steps to the dock where I was safely away from saying something stupid that I would surely regret.
We both worked until the sun faded behind the trees across the river. My arm was sore by the time I gathered the scrap pieces of wood into a bucket to haul away in my truck. The dock was finished in record time. I chalked up the accomplishment to the frustration I felt towards myself and as I looked at the heavy hammer marks surrounding each nail in the boards, I realized just how much heaviness I’d been carrying in my mind.
Finally looking up, I saw Charlie was packing her painting materials up. The easel and canvas were already gone, probably moved inside already. My throat cinched as I tried to come up with something to say to her. Anything that would retract what I’d spewed from my mouth last night.
Because the truth was that I’d lied. There was no part of me that wanted to stay away from Charlie. Every bone in my body ached with the need to be closer to her and it made me wonder if that was why I’d been so miserable the last seven years. I’d run away from the only person my heart ever yearned to be near.
That was the thing about haunting memories though. They created barriers that stopped us from getting to what we needed most.
And when it came to haunting memories…I had more than most.