Girls of Summer

by C. E. Hilbert

  53

  “I’ll be home by Friday,” Charlotte said.

  “And you aren’t changing your mind?” Georgie’s typically soft, rounded words came through the phone clipped with a tinge of fear.

  She glanced at her slim fingers linked loosely between Mac’s wide ones. “I promise. I will explain everything when we get back home.”

  “We? Who’s we?” There was the little sister she’d always wanted. Nosey. Pushy. And Annoying. Charlotte couldn’t be happier. “Control your inner Austen, George. Or would you like me to start poking at you, Mrs. Special Agent? I saw that Bible Cade has been twisting his brain in a pretzel to understand.”

  A muttered cough pressed through the phone into Charlotte’s ear.

  The crack of the courtroom door sliced through the hustle of the hallway. “I have to go. It looks like the hearing is breaking for the day.”

  “I love you, Charlotte.”

  “Love you, too. Tell Savvy I’ll be home soon.” Slipping the phone into her purse, she stood.

  The two Assistant U.S. Attorneys in charge of making the case against Anton Dorokhov and his crew exited the courtroom deep in discussion. Neither prosecutor broke their strides as they passed the group.

  Dylan hustled after them, pacing his gait with theirs.

  Charlotte intently logged every head nod and shake. The older A-USA tucked a stray hair behind her ear and the younger, barely shaving attorney straightened to appear nearly two inches taller.

  Dylan’s natural ability to build camaraderie broke through their tough exteriors.

  She wondered if Dylan’s super power would uncover details in favor of Mama or against her.

  Dylan shook both of the A-USAs’ hands and pivoted back toward them.

  The warm lifeline of Mac’s strong grip tightened around her fingers.

  “Her testimony’s complete. For now.”

  “Can I see her?”

  “The Marshals are moving her to another temporary location today. I’ll make a call. See if we can connect you.”

  “Dylan.” Charlotte clutched his hand. “I need to say good-bye.”

  He nodded. Lifting his phone to his ear, he separated himself from the group.

  “What if I can’t see her, Mac?”

  “You’ll always have your last visit.”

  “But I didn’t know it was the last.”

  “We never do.” He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. “But we can be thankful when the last memory is a good one.”

  Charlotte thought back to coffee with her mother and a soft warmth spread through her chest.

  Dylan slid his phone in his pocket, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Charlotte.”

  “We can’t arrange a meeting?” Mac asked.

  “Not today. She will need to testify during the trial. There might be a chance then, but I think it is highly unlikely. I’m sorry.”

  Charlotte nodded. “I’m ready to go home.” A new chapter needed to begin.

  Dylan and Cade took the lead, with Mac and Charlotte following through the hallway down to the entrance on Worth Street. Mac called for their town car as they stepped through the front door. The cacophony of whistles, horns, and shouting voices vibrated through her being. The music of the city was no longer a welcome harmony, but a rowdy dissonance between her old and new life.

  All three men had their phones pressed to their ears, as the quartet closed the dozen steps to the street. Tightening her grip on Mac’s hand, she stretched her gaze along the lower Manhattan thoroughfare. Bike messengers, yellow cabs, creeping city buses, all crawled, sometimes with halted journeys, carrying hundreds of people by the majestic building. They had children. Spouses. Bills. Favorite restaurants. Busy jobs. Worries she could understand. And many she never would. No one maneuvering this street knew or cared about the life altering moments she experienced over the last two days. They were living life. A smile tugged at her lips. She looked forward to joining them.

  “Our car was waiting at Foley Square. He’s pulling around,” Mac said, as he slid his phone in his pocket. “That’s a nice look. Haven’t seen one of those crack that pretty face of yours in a while.”

  “It’s a beautiful day.”

  Mac leaned forward and pressed his lips to her cheek, branding her with the gentle touch.

  Her cheeks burned with heat reflecting the pure light of hope flaming through her. Pressing a breath through her lips, she glanced at a series of three black SUV’s idling on the corner. A flurry of activity drew her attention to the side entrance of the courthouse, and she watched as two oversized men in U.S. Marshals’ jackets hovered over a small woman as they jogged to the waiting vehicles.

  “Mama?” She whispered. Sliding her hand from Mac’s, she hustled toward the corner waving. “Mama? Mama, wait…”

  The lead Marshal opened the back door of the middle SUV, guiding the small, dark haired woman into the backseat. He followed her in, and then closed the door.

  “Wait!” Charlotte screamed.

  The caravan moved onto the street.

  “Please…”

  BOOM!

  Charlotte propelled backwards, scraping her left side as she slid to stop. Pushing to her knees, she wobbled to stand, facing the explosion. “NO! MAMA!”

  The middle SUV, engulfed in flames, was swarmed by federal, state, and local first responders.

  “Charlie.” Mac tugged her to his chest.

  “Mama…Mac, she was in the SUV.”

  54

  The funeral was graveside. Only Charlie, her grandmother, and Mac attended. Her grandmother’s priest officiated. No mourners. No flowers. No music. No body. The explosion left only ash and soot. And dozens of unanswered questions.

  With the final prayer, Alla thanked the priest and laced her arm through her granddaughter’s crooked elbow.

  Mac followed behind Alla and Charlie to the waiting limousine. He listened to the melancholy tones of their Russian heritage as they spoke words he could not comprehend but the sentiment he understood all too well with the loss of both his mother and father.

  The driver opened the rear door to the limousine. Alla slid in with traces of the Bolshoi infusing each movement. Charlie followed.

  Mac couldn’t help but admire the practiced grace with which she folded her long body into the waiting car. A sharp pitched scream snatched him from his wondering thoughts and sped his feet down the slope to the waiting car. Shoving the driver out of his way, Mac dove through the doorway. “Charlie!”

  Landing on the wide floorboard with a thud, knocking the wind from his chest, but not the fear from his veins, he flipped to his knees and stared at Charlie who was embracing Georgie.

  Georgie merely lifted a single brow to match the soft twist of her lips.

  Pushing himself to sit on the open bench, he kneaded the muscle at the base of his neck. “Do not scream when there are shooters, bombers, and mobsters running lose and wreaking havoc.”

  Both sisters chuckled.

  “Yes, sir.” Charlie saluted. “From now on I’ll reserve my screams for violent attempts on my life, near disasters, and all around natural crises. Is that fair?”

  Mac bit the inside of his cheek, pooling blood in his mouth, but the metallic taste was preferable over the words he wanted to shout at Bent’s daughters.

  Alla winked at Charlie. “Your My Mac is good man, myshka. He run to crisis. No teasing.”

  “Yes, Baba.”

  “Mens don’t appreciate womens humor. They too sensitive.”

  ~*~

  Two hours later, Charlotte carried a tray of empty teacups and delicate china plates littered with scone and sandwich crumbs from the elongated tea her grandmother hosted for their surprise guests to the kitchen and Marta’s waiting hands.

  Georgie, Cade, Dylan, Savvy, and Mellie flew up to support Charlotte and her grandmother. They let them have their privacy at the cemetery, but in true southern tradition, a spread of treats, casseroles, snacks, and food laden in butter
and sugar covered every surface of Baba’s kitchen.

  Charlotte was astounded by the extreme kindness. No one, aside from her grandmother and Mac, knew Mama as anything but an accomplice to an international crime syndicate and yet they came to celebrate her life.

  The clank of silver against china drew Charlotte’s focus.

  Mac balanced a small stack of plates in his left hand, while cradling her grandmother’s prized teapot in the other.

  “If you drop that teapot, Baba knows places in Siberia they will never find your body.”

  “Har, har.” He handed her the pot and slid the balance of the dishes on the last open spot on the counter beside the sink. “I used to help my mom when she had her café. I can balance plates and bowls with the best of them.”

  “So, when you’re fired because you break the heart of the co-CEO, you have a back-up plan.” Charlotte leaned her hip against the wide breakfast table.

  Mac closed the distance between them and rested his hands on her shoulders. “If I break her heart, I promise I will fix it.”

  “Good to know.”

  “And if she breaks mine?”

  She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. “I have a lifetime supply of mending just waiting for you.”

  Epilogue

  Three Months Later…

  “That was a strike! Ump, you better get some glasses if you’re gonna call games here.” Charlotte dropped her cupped hands from her lips, gratefully accepting the ice water from Mac’s extended hand.

  “As a former strike-ball expert, that was definitely a ball.”

  Her lips pinched to a pout. “Don’t mess with me, Taylor. We’re down by two in the bottom of the fifth. If I have to get in the ump’s head, I will.”

  “She takes this all very seriously.” Cade’s intended whisper to Georgie floated over her left shoulder.

  “You have no idea. It’s easier to agree.” Remy said. His chrome and black cane and slow, slightly slurred speech were the only remnants of the terrible accident six months earlier.

  “Hey, Special Agent man, if you don’t take baseball seriously, you don’t take life seriously,” Charlotte mumbled.

  “See what I mean?” Remy said.

  Mac lowered onto the seat to her right, draping his arm over her shoulders. “We are only a month into a very long season, Charlie.”

  She leaned forward, resting her elbows against her knees, hiding her broad smile. She couldn’t remember the last time she was this content. This truly happy.

  Over the last three months, thanks to her mother’s pre-taped testimony, dozens of Anton’s partners had been arrested, some already tried and convicted, for the hundreds of crimes they had committed in the United States. The RICO trials would begin in the fall, but based on what Cade and Dylan had been allowed to share, their cases were airtight. The demons who had tortured hundreds of thousands directly and indirectly would be brought to justice. Finally.

  With each update, the pride she felt for her mother’s final choice nearly burst through with the brightness of the sun at midday.

  As the case closed, Cade asked for a permanent transfer to the Charleston Field Office. He asked Savvy and Charlotte for their blessing in his asking Georgie to marry him over a week ago. Now, Charlotte was on pins and needles every time she saw her sister’s name pop onto her phone screen. If Murphy didn’t ask her soon, Charlotte was going to shove him onto one knee on the way out of church on Sunday.

  Her phone buzzed in her pocket, drawing her attention from the poorly called game. “Charlotte Dixon.”

  “Hi Charlotte, its Dylan. Sorry to bug you during the game, but wanted to give you a heads up. You should be receiving a package at the ballpark today. It’s from me. It’s safe.”

  “OK.”

  “Don’t be worried. I just wanted to ensure it wasn’t accidentally thrown out as a suspicious package. Thought the ballpark would be the safest place for delivery. Have a good one.”

  “Weird,” she whispered.

  Mac leaned forward. “What’s weird?”

  “That was Dylan. He said he sent a package to me. Here. At the ballpark.”

  He tugged a white business envelope from his shirt pocket. “That he did. Jimmy had it delivered to security, but Cade gave me a heads-up this morning. I stopped by the security office after I was finished with the new port contracts. Cade told me Dylan’s been temporarily reassigned. I don’t think we will see him for a while. I think he’s working with Maggie’s Uncle Jack.”

  She snatched the envelope from him. Measuring the length with her fingers, she peeled back the edge, ripping through paper made soft in the late spring humidity. Hurried handwriting scrawled across three pages. Flipping to the end, she saw the signature, “Mama.”

  Her heart thumped, nearly rattling her chest. She whipped her head toward Cade, who lounged with his hand over Georgie’s shoulder, his opposite hand laced fingers with hers. His vision focused toward the field.

  “Charlie, sweetheart, what is it?” Mac asked. His tone hushed seeming to sense the fear she felt oozing through her skin.

  She quickly read through the letter, the words a blur in her vision.

  Her mother was safe. She couldn’t say where. The explosion had been a quickly thwarted plot attempt by one of Anton’s men, the same bomb maker who had attacked her. The U.S. Marshals swiftly responded to the threat with a convincing piece of theater.

  Mama apologized for the hasty exit, but wanted Charlotte to know how much she loved her.

  “She’s alive.” Charlotte’s voice was barely a whisper. She handed the letter to Mac.

  He scanned the letter and then refolded the pages, shoving them into the ripped envelope. Tugging her to his side, he whispered, “You will have to destroy this letter.”

  She nodded. The lump in her throat was too thick to allow for words.

  They watched the sixth inning in silence. She was content to have the comforting sounds of the ballpark announcer’s game day chatter fill the giant holes of question filling her being.

  The traditional seventh inning stretch had fans in the Bombers’ stands unfolding from their seats and screeching about rooting for the home team. She watched arms slung over shoulders throughout the stadium and a warmth flooded the icy chill that had crept into her soul with the letter.

  Her mother was alive.

  She could only pray the transformation she had seen in Mama three months earlier would take root and she would one day see her mother again in the arms of Jesus. The hope would be enough.

  Charlotte glanced to her left and caught the glint of sparkle on Georgie’s left hand. Grabbing Mac’s fingers, she squeezed. “Taylor, he did it! He proposed. Finally!” She turned to face Mac, a smile stretched across her heart.

  Mac lowered to a single knee in front of her as the final strains of ‘Take Me Out To The Ball Game’ flitted through the air.

  “What are you doing?”

  Mac popped the hinge on a tiny ring box. A perfect square cut solitaire shined back at her. “Murphy stole my thunder and my idea, but I thought the seventh inning stretch was the perfect time to propose to my girl of summer. Charlie, love of my life. Pain in my side. Gift from heaven, will you marry me?”

  Tears flooded her vision. She nodded.

  Slipping the ring on her finger, he pressed a light kiss to her lips. Applause rocketed through the ballpark. She glanced at the centerfield screen. Their faces were twenty feet tall and the words, “SHE SAID YES” scrolled under the image.

  “No taking it back now.” He chuckled.

  “You are stuck with me for all of your summers.”

  A Devotional Moment

  BUT THE TAX COLLECTOR STOOD AT A DISTANCE. HE WOULD NOT EVEN LOOK UP TO HEAVEN, BUT BEAT HIS BREAST AND SAID, ‘GOD, HAVE MERCY ON ME, A SINNER.’ ~ LUKE 18:13

  For centuries, the words of the tax collector have been prayed by Christians in a prayer known as The Jesus Prayer, or the Prayer of the Heart. For Christians, acknowledging our sins
and asking for forgiveness is the way to show humility and to rely on God. In acknowledging that Jesus is the Son of God, we express our faith. We come in humility, confessing that we are sinners and unworthy, but He’s given us grace! We are forgiven if our heart is truly contrite.

  In Girls of Summer, the protagonist learns that her actions lead to disaster, so she pushes everyone away in an attempt to protect her family from evil forces bent on tearing them apart. But her family, driven by God’s tender grace, work together to bring her peace. Her experience with God leads her to The Jesus Prayer, faith, and absolution.

  Have you ever found it difficult to rest in a place of peace? It’s important to take time to pray, but not only to pray, but to call to mind any sins you may have committed during that day. Remember sins can be done in thought, word and actions. God will forgive you for anything. All you have to do is ask. While some may think that since He’ll forgive you (or has forgiven you) that you don’t need to confess sins or even bring them to mind. But, there is something wonderful that happens when you do confess your sins to God, even when you already believe He’ll forgive you. And that something wonderful is that they are brought to light so that the evil one cannot use them against you. Once you’ve given the sins to God in a tangible way that can be grasped by human senses, even if guilt or shame try to bring you down, you will know in your own self that you are forgiven and that God has removed that guilt or shame. What is brought into the light cannot harm you. So confess your sins to God on a daily basis. Clear your conscience, receive mercy and forgiveness. When you do, you’ll receive power to overcome evil and the grace to live with a peace-filled heart.

  LORD JESUS CHRIST, SON OF THE LIVING GOD, HAVE MERCY ON ME, A SINNER. IN JESUS’ NAME I PRAY, AMEN.