Chapter 6 Charlie
CHARLIE
—from the journal of Charlie Savage
“That one is a looker.” Grandma pointed up toward the ceiling, where we could hear Bennett tromping around on the roof, assessing the storm damage. Grandma and Grandpa had stopped by Mom’s house for lunch. Grandpa’s whole attention was on the puzzle, but Grandma’s had turned to me—and to Bennett.
There was no way Bennett could hear her through wood, drywall, and shingle.
But seriously, all I needed was for him to think I was attracted to him.
I still hadn’t gotten over him discovering the infamous torso sketch—would never get over it—and had bent over backwards to make it clear I had zero attraction for him.
Less than zero, because I didn’t even notice him in that way.
Bennett was like a functional, non-decorative pillow.
You’re grateful to have one to lean against (metaphorically) now and then, but pillows aren’t, like, sexy or anything. “I’m engaged.”
“Huh. To the boring one. I remember.”
“He’s not boring. He’s stable. Steady.” And currently giving me the cold shoulder. He’d left my last two texts—both apologies—on read.
“The side-effect warnings on my blood-pressure medication are more exciting than Greg.”
“Come on. Those side effects are wild. It’s an unfair comparison.” I liked that Greg was consistently consistent, unless he was upset, but I knew how to get back on his good side, so it was a nonissue.
“I’m just saying. If I were single and forty years younger…” She held her hands up to her sides like a perp caught red-handed, but the action was paired with her mischievous, guilt-free smile.
“You’d what?” Grandpa asked absently. He scanned the table for another piece to fit into the jigsaw puzzle.
“I’d kiss him. At the very least.” Grandma shimmied her shoulders. “He has a very kissable face.”
“Who does?”
I hadn’t heard Bennett walk into the house, but I felt him come up behind me and lean over to peer at the puzzle, his hand on the back of my chair. He picked up a piece and studied it.
“You,” Grandma said, with zero embarrassment. It took everything in me not to groan and cover my face, but oh, I wanted to.
“Aw, thanks.” Bennett dropped a friendly kiss to the top of Grandma’s head as he locked the puzzle piece into place.
“I think his face is punchable,” Grandpa groused, staring right at where Bennett had placed the puzzle piece. “I’ve been looking for that piece for fifteen minutes.”
Bennett barked out a laugh. “Fresh eyes.”
Mom approached the table with a tall glass of iced lemonade for Bennett. It was Mom’s specialty, and Bennett closed his eyes with the first sip. “Summer in a glass,” he said reverently.
Mom patted his arm and then sat next to me, looking defeated. “Bennett says we need a whole new roof.”
He grimaced. “It’s pretty torn up,” he confirmed. “I’ll patch the worst of it, which will buy you maybe six months. Depends on how rough winter gets this year.”
Mom rested her chin in her hands, and I could see the weight of yet another expense settling in her eyes.
This was why I’d applied me and Greg for Married in the Wild.
We’d get paid for every episode that aired with us on it.
Just one episode would pay for an entirely new roof.
A few more to finally finish paying off Dad’s medical debts—and Mom’s new ones after the accident.
And if we actually won? Maybe Mom could finally relax and have fun for the first time in her life.
“We can help,” Grandpa said. “How much do you need?”
“No.” Mom shook her head, firmly. “You have a fixed retirement, and I’m not drawing from that. I’ll pick up a few extra hours per week at work to cover it.”
I knew better than to offer to cash out my 401(k) again.
That offer had not gone over well last time.
Mom insisted that she had not sacrificed so much for me to give up my dreams in a blink.
To be fair, having a robust retirement account had never been my dream, but Mom could not be reasoned with when it came to finances.
“Can you get the materials you need, Bennett? Then just save the receipts for me.”
“Sure thing,” he said. “I can do it this weekend.” His hand gently squeezed my shoulder in assurance—there was no world in which Mom was going to see a single receipt from Bennett—before he placed yet another puzzle piece.
“Dagnabbit.” Grandpa pushed back from the table. “I’m done. Ready, Momma?”
“I’ve been ready for twenty minutes,” she told him saucily. “Since you told me you had to get one more piece before you could leave. I’m still waiting.”
Grandpa grumbled something under his breath, which made Grandma laugh as she slid her arms into her pink cardigan.
Grandpa took his puzzling very seriously, and Grandma took it as unseriously as she possibly could.
I swore I’d seen her put pieces in the wrong place just to get under his skin, or palm the last piece so she’d have the honors of placing it at the end.
But despite their quirks and teasing, they so clearly loved each other.
“Now, don’t forget what I said about wearing orange,” Grandma said pointedly. “Your life is hard enough.”
“This is my jersey,” I told her. Bennett wore his matching one for our softball game tonight against our rivals, the Bookish Ballers. “And my life is great. I’m getting married in two weeks!”
Grandma’s frown softened. “You’re still living in the same town you grew up in, doing the same job your dad did, marrying someone you’ve dated on and off since you were a teenager. You need some adventure.”
Her worry settled heavily on me. I wanted to tell her about Married in the Wild.
Promise her I’d find adventure. But I couldn’t tell everyone else before I told Greg.
What if he said no? What if it didn’t happen?
I’d disappoint everyone again. “I don’t want to live anywhere else but Winterhaven.
And I love my job.” Teaching marine botany was my actual dream come true.
Mostly. Eventually one of my research topics would be approved, and I’d be able to lead my own team exploring the ocean.
“Chuck has one of the coolest jobs on the planet. Only second to mine.” Bennett ruffled my hair, something he’d been doing since I was a teenager.
“Bennett!” I tried to smooth the strands back into place.
He gave me an unrepentant smile, and Grandma turned her narrowed eyes from me to him.
“And you. Perpetually brokenhearted, endlessly carrying a lantern for those you’ve lost. Tethered to nothing but the sea, which gives the very coldest of hugs, my dear.”
“Mom,” my mom said at the same time I exclaimed, “Grandma!” All we needed was for Bennett to get upset and refuse to come back until Grandma apologized.
Greg still wouldn’t say more than a few terse words to her, because she refused to apologize to him for being blunt, sometimes to the point of rudeness.
I was used to it, and I knew underneath it all was worry and love, but other people had a harder time with her.
Bennett’s easy expression didn’t change. He leaned his arm on the back of my chair, and his low voice sent a hot tumble of air across my ear. “But what an embrace while it lasts.”
I shivered.
“Charlie and I should head to the field for warm-ups,” Bennett continued as he moved away from my chair, his voice still warm, but lacking that rumbling quality that made me feel as disoriented as being caught in a riptide. “It’s been a pleasure, Nana Marie. Feel free to kiss this face any time.”
Grandma barked out a laugh, while Mom groaned, “Don’t encourage her, Bennett. But thank you for the roof. You’re a lifesaver.” Mom rounded the table and pulled him into a motherly hug.
“Anytime,” he said, hugging her back tight. When Rosie had moved to town, we’d bonded over both losing a parent when we were young—I’d lost my dad, and Rosie her mom—and sometimes I forgot that meant Bennett had lost his mom too.
“Ready?” he said to me.
I grabbed my softball bag and slung it over my shoulder. My phone buzzed with an alert. I opened a text from Lily, showing a picture of a dozen red roses sitting on our table.
Lily: These were delivered for you.
Another picture showed the note attached: I forgive you, Charlotte. Always, Greg.
HE forgives ME? an impossibly quiet voice complained in the back of my mind. I ignored it as usual. He was trying—the flowers were nothing if not evidence of that. They were apology enough, even if he didn’t use the words themselves.
I stuffed my phone back in my pocket and turned to Bennett with as bright a smile as I could manage. “I’m ready.”
Bennett and I had played on the same rec softball league team, the Icy Asps, for the last eight years—with the exception of the three years I’d lived in Seattle to complete my master’s program.
The Icy Asps were named after a local restaurant—an Italian café and American-style pizzeria—and tonight, we were out for blood.
The Bookish Ballers had been our rivals for all of those eight years, for no other reason than we were the two original rec teams, and for about three years, we’d only had each other to play.
Our teams ranged in ages from eighteen to seventy-seven (Mrs. Mabel, the semi-retired English teacher at the high school who was a beast for the Bookish Ballers), and we took our rivalry very seriously.
“Good turnout tonight.” Bennett released a satisfied sigh as he parked in the mostly full parking lot.
“We’d better hurry.” I picked up my speed, Bennett right on my heels as we dodged people wearing orange (for our team) or blue (in support of the Bookish Ballers.)
It was a beautiful evening, cloudy but dry. We were finally getting a break from the lashing rain we’d been dealing with for the first half of the summer. I breathed in the scent of hot dogs and cookies, feeling like I was coming home.