Chapter 25 #2
So Charline took the day off and went to the bank to apply for a loan against her house. She and Suzette would be taking her mother home later that morning and she had hired a nurse to start work the day after Christmas.
Charline was certain she’d get the bank loan, but she wasn’t as certain how she’d pay it back.
There would be a balloon payment, she was told.
If worse came to worst, she’d need to sell the house.
But her hope was that the serum would be commercialized by then and she would be making lots of money.
If she could keep Hogarth under control.
If they could keep Trent’s participation a secret from his team doctors and the sports media.
If the serum truly worked like she’d hypothesized.
She put all negative thoughts aside as she finally appreciated the Christmas season and all the hope it brought, all the joy and love and heart-swelling light.
It was late afternoon and already getting dark by the time she and Suzette finally had their mother installed on the couch in the living room, comfortable with her tartan plaid blanket and plush red robe.
Charline had maintained her mother’s pain medications, but discontinued the antidepressants for now.
She was hopeful the Christmas holiday would keep her mother’s spirits high.
It had always been a fun and important holiday in their family, always joyful, even the year her father had passed.
“Would you like some eggnog, Mother? I’m whipping up a batch now.”
“That would be lovely, Suzette, dear.” The way they’d positioned their mother allowed her to see them and the whole room, especially the tree, even with the curvature of her back and neck.
Charline smiled, felt that familiar swelling joy as she took in the scene and breathed in the scent of their undecorated tree.
Everything else in the house was decorated down to the tiniest details thanks to the efforts of Suzanne and Diggins these past few days to make it nice for Mother when she came home.
“Eggnog already? Don’t get plastered before our guest arrives,” Charline said, half laughing, not caring if they were all fall-down drunk and half thinking they deserved to be.
“What time is your young man arriving, Charline?” Her mother probably didn’t even remember Trent’s name.
“Trent will be here in an hour or so. That gives me enough time to clean up—I think.” She looked down at herself and realized she wanted to look extra festive, extra nice for him tonight.
It was a special occasion because even though he was a fake fiancé, her mother didn’t know that and it would make her happy to believe he was real.
Charline felt a blip of sadness at the idea that her mother was fading. Any moments of joy they could give her were worth far more than little white lies—or even big dark lies.
Wearing the red sweater dress that Suzette had picked out for the occasion, having more fashion foresight than Charline ever did, she ran down the stairs, nearly tripping in her heels.
The doorbell rang. Feeling like she’d changed more than her clothes, more like a butterfly, she felt liberated at the prospect of sharing this almost-secret side of her life.
Then she realized she’d been living with lies, secrets, and deceit all her life, keeping her family illness private—ever since her father had mandated the secrecy about her mother when she was a child.
Sharing the secrets eased her tension. Sharing with someone special.
Admitting he was special felt like she’d pried the last of the bars from her soul, freeing her.
Trying to hide how she truly felt from herself and everyone else had been a wasted effort.
And wouldn’t make it any less devastating when their relationship came to an end.
Shutting that thought from her mind, she hit the bottom of the stairs and went for the door.
“I’ll answer it, Suzette,” she belatedly called to the living room.
Rushing to the door, breathless, flushed, she pulled it open, her new unchecked smile in waiting to greet him, words of joy spilling from her lips.
“Merry Christmas, Trent. Welcome to the Morneau home.”
His eyes grazed up and down over her, a look of sensual delight lighting his face as he stepped inside the door. She saw the banked passion, felt the controlled energy of him, as if he were forcibly preventing himself from taking her in his arms.
She wished he would take her, hold her, lift her up and swing her around.
There was no reason for these reckless feelings.
Maybe all the deceit was catching up to her and she was going insane.
Maybe she was happy to have someone with whom she finally had no cause for deceit, someone she could share it all with, by whatever freakish circumstance that had thrown them into this black cauldron of lies together.
As unlikely as it was, something she’d never have predicted, she was glad it was him.
Knew it wouldn’t have been the same if it were anyone else.
A wicked curl of smoky desire wound through her as his appraisal ended with an unmistakably passionate gleam of his eye and he whispered, “You look like a mouthwatering dessert.” He edged closer, leaning forward so that the vibration of his excitement zipped through her like a low-level bolt of electricity, a promise of more to come.
“So tempting. You make me want to skip the meal.”
The hot blush that rose to her face wasn’t embarrassment at his words, more like the heat of desire.
She ought to back away before she got scorched, but she didn’t want to.
Instead, Suzette stepped from the kitchen into the hallway, her cautious gait warning them, banking the fire between them to a low flame, still with enough wild sparks to see.
Suzette had seen those sparks judging by the startled “Oh” and her sudden stop. Charline turned and went to her sister, taking her hand, drawing her in.
“Trent, this is my sister Suzette. You’ve recently converted her to a football fan and her friend, Buck, is forever grateful.”
“So charmed to meet the man who’s put the first genuine joyful smile on my sister’s face in too many years to count.” Suzette extended her hand.
“You have no idea how happy I am to meet you.” He took her hand and then leaned in for a hug, a lighter version of the kind she’d seen him do with his sister, Tammy.
He released her from the gentle clasp and said, “I want to thank you for being so supportive of Charlie. She says nothing but wonderful things about you and your mother.”
“I hope we don’t disappoint you then,” Suzette said with a flirty laugh.
Charline had known Suzette would be charmed, but she marveled at how thoroughly and quickly Trent had her. If he could bottle that talent—
“Not even possible,” he said. Then he looped his arm around each of them, one on each side.
“Let’s meet your mother. And let’s have a look at that tree.
It’s been a while since I’ve taken the time to decorate a Christmas tree and I’m kind of excited about it.
” Charline directed him through the maze of hallways in the old house to the living room.
Trent was moved by her loving, nurturing nature with her mother and sister and their butler-caretaker-handyman, Diggins. Trent’s job was to place the ornaments on the high branches. Diggins had strung the lights. Suzette and Charlie handed him ornaments and placed some on the lower branches.
When they were finished, he drank his eggnog, warning them he could have only one because he was in training.
The mar in Charlie’s otherwise happy face at the reference to training didn’t escape him.
She’d been so light and carefree all night.
He’d never before seen her without a measure of her seriousness firmly in control—except when they were making love.
He switched the subject to admiring the charm of the festively decorated house. As he sat on the comfortable couch, he noticed the faded upholstery, fraying at the corners, noticed the worn wool carpet and that the walls needed painting.
Everything was clean and bright, but ramshackle. Their home could use a facelift.
Then for the first time, he realized that she might be struggling financially under the burden of the medical expenses and keeping the family together on a medical researcher’s pay.
When Suzette yawned as he ate his fourth cookie, he looked at his watch. Ten p.m. A chime sounded from another room.
“That’s the grandfather clock.” Marie Morneau said, still surprisingly alert. “It must be getting late, though I don’t feel it. I wouldn’t mind if this night went on forever.”
Charlie gave her mother such a heart-wrenching smile of sadness, that he felt the stab, the heavy melancholy descend, leaving a layer of poignancy over the cheery room with the crackling fireplace and the glittering tree trying to hold up the bargain of the joyous season.
“I should go now. Training.” He stood. Charlie snapped her head around and jumped up with him, looking like he’d told her Santa Claus wasn’t real.
He had a feeling Santa Claus hadn’t been real in this household for a long time.
Taking one last look around the shabby corners of the room, he determined that this was one thing he could fix.
He could play Santa for this family, though he knew it would be only a small gesture, nearly meaningless up against the disease they faced.
“I’ll walk you out,” she said, getting control and returning to the serious professional, dropping the mantle of delighted and carefree young woman she’d been most of the night.