by B. N. Toler
She sighed, clearly exasperated by the two chuckleheads that were suddenly unable to do anything without her. When she spun around to pick up the waders, my father shed his facade and perked up, darting his gaze to me, half-raising his fist in victory.
Jesus Christ!
I widened my eyes, begging him to be cool before she caught him. He nodded enthusiastically and gave a quick thumbs up then settled back and resumed his old man act. Relief ran through me as Charlotte finally stepped into the gear and lumbered into the water, ready to save the day.
At least the plan was working, however terribly we’d implemented it. The waders were huge on her small frame, and she took her time navigating around the rocks to where I’d indicated my line was caught. My heart raced as the crucial moment grew closer. My father was right, everything leading up to it was background noise compared to the significance of the moment. I was in love with this woman. She’d saved me. She was a part of me. I needed her. I knew she loved me, but I couldn’t fight the fear looming in my gut that she might say no. Up to this point, I’d been able to keep the negative thoughts at bay, but as I watched her moving through the water to the spot where I’d tied my entire future to a fishing line and wedged it between a couple rocks, my temperature rose, and my forehead beaded with sweat. I ran my forearm over it to wipe it away, taking a deep breath to calm myself. This was it. This was happening.
When Charlotte reached the end of the line, she inspected it before she bent over, attempting to free it. When she gave the line a hard jerk, my heart jumped to my throat. “Maybe don’t yank so hard,” I suggested, working hard to hide the panic I was feeling. “I’d really like to hold on to the bait.”
“It’s only worth maybe a dollar, George,” she huffed. “I can spare a buck.” Damn she could be sassy sometimes. She was right though, the bait was cheap.
“Just try to loosen it without losing it; it’s hard to find in stock.”
“It’s wrapped around a stick,” she said after a few minutes. “I think I’ll need to cut it,” she decided, reaching her hand into the chest pocket for the pocket knife she knew would be there.
“NO!!!” I yelled abruptly, the panicked cry echoing over the water as I watched my plan well and truly go all to hell. If she cut the line, my great-grandmother’s engagement ring was very likely to disappear forever down the Jackson River.
Abandoning the charade, I clamored through the water as fast as I could, fighting against the current for every plodding step. The water sloshed high around me as I shouted incoherently at her while she stared wide-eyed at me like I’d gone completely insane.
That’s when it happened.
That’s when all hope of saving any of my remaining dignity died a watery death as my boot wedged between two rocks and I flopped face-first into the water.
Once down, I was quickly able to find a stone to brace myself, momentarily grateful my face had merely belly-flopped on the water, versus smashing against a rock. Still, all of the positives aside, I got water up my nose and hacked desperately to clear it as I assessed my situation. Standing was out of the question now that my waders were full of water, so I splashed and flailed around until I maneuvered into something resembling kneeling.
“George McDermott!” Charlotte shrieked. “What the in the world has gotten into you?”
Coughing, I brushed my matted hair from my forehead with a quick swipe, only managing to get some of it. Glancing over at my father on the river bank, I saw him, camera in hand, snapping photos of me and Charlotte’s epic moment, just as we’d planned. The photos were meant to be keepsakes, something we could look back on for years to come. Me on my knees, soaked like a wet dog wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind. I grumbled, letting my shoulders sag in defeat. Dad motioned his hand, encouraging me to go on. Then he lifted the camera and snapped another picture of me. When I returned my focus to Charlotte, concern was written all over her face.
“Don’t.” I said, holding a hand up to stop her when she took a step toward me. So, my plan was blown. That happens in life. But I had started this and I would finish it.
Through the clumps of hair plastered around my face, I met her gaze, squinting to see past the water in one of my eyes. “You know I love you, don’t you?”
Her features softened as her narrowed gaze relaxed. “Of course.”
Bracing myself on a couple of nearby rocks, I moved myself closer to her until we were inches apart, remaining on one knee, though a little off balance. “And you know I’d do anything for you, right?”
She inhaled deeply, confusion returning to her brow. “Yes, I do.”
I let out a breath and motioned around me with my hand. “This wasn’t how I’d planned this to go…”
“What wasn’t?” she asked, not following what I was saying.
My plan was in shambles and practically drowning in two feet of water, so all I could do at that point was lay my heart at her feet.
“Marry me, Charlotte.”
Her eyes widened as I continued, “I know I don’t deserve you. I know I’ve made mistakes—”
She cupped her hand over my mouth. “Stop it. You are a good man, George McDermott, and you des—”
I pulled her hand away, entwining my fingers with hers, and stopped her protest with a shake of my head. I wasn’t looking for her reassurance, I’d only mentioned the past to point out that I knew how lucky I was to have her. “You’re my best friend. You make me…” I paused, searching for the right words. “You make me want to be a better man. You make me excited to wake up every damn day because I know I’m waking up to you.”
Her eyes glossed over as her lip trembled.
“I was in a dark place for a long time,” I admitted. “I was lost and living life so wrong. And you saved me. You brought me back, Charlotte, and I want more than anything to be with you for as many days as I’m blessed to have.”
Her gaze fell away from mine, but not before I saw the uncertainty in her eyes.
“You know I love you, too, George. But do you understand what you’re signing up for here? Do you understand…” she threw her hands up before letting them flop back to her sides. “That I see the dead and probably always will?”
I nodded. I did understand. I knew it wasn’t always easy; not for her, and it wouldn’t always be easy for me. “Look at me, babe,” I said, giving her hand a gentle tug. “I know it will be hard sometimes, but we’ll figure it out. Together. You’re not alone in this, Charlotte.” Her dark eyes finally met mine again as a tear streamed down her delicate cheek. “The good, the bad, and the ugly—I want it all.”
While Charlotte sniffled and wiped at her face, I carefully retrieved the ring, throwing up a quick prayer of thanks that it was still there. Turning back to face her, I held the ring up for her to see, the fishing line still attached and dangling limply from it.
“Marry me, Charlotte,” I said again.
A broken sob escaped her as she lunged against me, her hand covering the ring as her lips found mine. “Yes,” she mumbled against my mouth. “Nothing would make me happier,” she added as I pulled her against me and kissed her with everything I had.
It was there, with me on my knees in the river, soaked and humiliated after tripping and falling into the water, that Charlotte promised me her hand. And that’s when my father captured her favorite picture—the framed photo sitting on her hospital nightstand.
“The only fish in the sea?” Marlena asked before blowing on her cup of tea.
I smirked. “Sounds cheesy now, but at the time I thought I was pretty clever.” We were tucked in a corner at a small table and away from everyone else. I looked at the cup of still-steaming coffee in front of me, not really knowing how or when we’d gotten here.
“It’s a lovely story, George,” she said, leaning back in her chair.
I shrugged absently as the effects of recounting one of the best days of my life faded and reality reared its ugly head again. No matter what the conversation was, or who it was with, I always fo
und myself landing on the same truth: Charlotte might die. Shaking my head, desperately wanting to stay as far away from that untenable thought, I tried to change the subject. “What about you? You have someone waiting across the pond for you to come home?”
Her voice matched the smile on her face. “I do, indeed. In fact,” she sat up and pulled her cell phone from her jacket pocket and checking the time, “if you don’t mind, I’m going to give him a shout before it gets any later for him.”
I nodded. A part of me wanted to rush back to Charlotte, but I decided it would be good to be alone for a little while. Charlotte was in good hands, and Sniper knew where to find me if anything changed. “Think I’ll stay here for a bit. Finish my coffee.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Marlena acknowledged. “I’ll see you upstairs in a bit. I’d like to discuss helping the girl.”
I blinked a few times, momentarily confused before I realized she was talking about Click. “Yeah, okay.”
Without another word, she left and I stared down at my coffee, hating myself for resenting Click. If it wasn’t for her, Charlotte wouldn’t have had any reason to go back to the Hell House. I immediately regretted the thought. Click didn’t cause Charlotte’s aneurysm, she was just a little girl trapped in a terrible situation. Still, my wife was fighting for her life and all Marlena seemed to care about was Click. I sighed, knowing that if there was a chance Marlena could figure out a way to help the girl, Charlotte would want me to help Click, no matter what. So that’s what I’d do, for Charlotte; if for nothing else than to finish the very thing she may have given her life trying to do.
Ike
Charlotte stared numbly ahead, the room heavy as the weight of her explanation left each of us without words. I watched Axel as he watched her closely, arms crossed over his chest, his face tight as he processed her story, knowing he felt just as helpless as I did.
“That’s all you remember?” Grams finally asked.
Charlotte’s eyes filled with tears as she released a shuddering breath. She’d managed to keep herself together for the most part, but now that she finally remembered the details of what happened prior to her death and purged her story, she was coming undone. “Oh God,” her hand flew to her mouth in agony, “George must have found me…” she trailed off, choking on a sob as she fell against Grams.
I closed my eyes as the pain of her words hit me. Of all the horrendous things she’d recounted, her guilt for what George must’ve felt sent me reeling. If just the thought of finding Charlotte like that was enough to destroy me, I knew my brother was in agony for having actually done it. I rubbed my face with my hands, anxiety setting in as a long-forgotten powerlessness anchored itself in the pit of my stomach.
Charlotte’s lip trembled as she let out a load moan. “Click. Click is still there, trapped.” She stood up, her face contorted in anger as tears ran down her face. “The three months of my life, I’ve made my husband miserable because I just had to save Click, and now she’s trapped there forever. I failed her. I failed him. I failed everyone!” she wailed. Her body convulsed as her breaths caught on sobs. I moved to take her in my arms, but Axel beat me to it and embraced her. I’d seen Charlotte emotional before, but this was something else. This was devastation mixed with self-loathing. This was chaos. Suddenly, she seemed to deflate and, holding her weight, Axel gently knelt, lowering her to the floor and tried soothing her as she cried.
She resisted his comfort, angrily pushing away from him, her face red and streaked with tears, strands of hair sticking to her cheeks. She fisted his shirt. “He found me there! Dead!” she cried. “I knew he didn’t want me to go alone, but I just couldn’t wait. I just knew I could do it myself, and then it would be done, and he wouldn’t have to deal with my bullshit anymore, and we could move on with our lives, but no…I didn’t fix anything, I left him. The last thing he’ll remember of me is that I left him.” She collapsed into him and sobbed.
“Char, it’s okay.” He took her face in his hands. “I know it hurts to think about it, but you can’t do this to yourself. It isn’t your fault.”
“It is my fault,” she argued. “I messed everything up.”
I couldn’t stand back anymore. Axel may be her brother, but this woman was everything to me, and her pain was also my pain when it came to my brother, George. I pulled her from Axel and yanked her to her feet, holding her by the arms. “Stop this!” I ordered, staring her dead in her eyes.
Every person unravels at some point, everyone’s fabric rips and the stuffing begins to come out, and if we’re unable to collect ourselves—stow our tears and contain the hurt—someone else has to step in. That’s what love is. It’s not always a hand to hold or a shoulder to lean on; sometimes it’s a kick in the ass. This wasn’t a hold-me-I’m-sad moment for Charlotte. It was an I’m-falling-apart moment.
Her dark eyes met mine, still glassy with unshed tears, as the room fell silent. I was sure Grams and Axel were alarmed by my drastic move and tone, but I didn’t care. I only cared about Charlotte and keeping her from melting into self-hate and guilt. “George will remember that the most amazing woman in the world loved him. He will know you went there because your heart is good, Charlotte. He will know you didn’t do it to hurt him.” I moved my face closer to hers. “I know my brother, baby girl. He’ll forgive you, I promise; he probably already has.”
Her crying waned briefly before she collapsed into me. I held her head to my shoulder as she attempted to calm down. “What if he...what if he uses again?”
My heart squeezed with worry, but deep inside I knew he wouldn’t; I had faith in my brother. People may stumble sometimes; hell, they even fall and lay dead for a while sometimes. People think the measure of strength is determined by those who never waiver, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. True strength is measured by those who hit rock bottom and, instead of losing hope and wallowing in their misery, they fight. Somehow they wriggle on their bellies until they make it to their knees, and they drag themselves to their feet. Somehow, even when weighted with the past of shame and regret, they shoulder that weight and move forward with stunted steps until they find their stride. That’s where real strength lies. George did that. George is the strongest man I know.
“He won’t,” I said firmly. I pulled her from me and held her head in my hands. “You know it, deep down. Here.” I touched her chest. “He won’t.” I held her gaze until I saw she believed it too, then I pulled her into me again. I prayed he wouldn’t make me a liar because I knew if anything could bring him down, it would be the loss of Charlotte.
Charlotte
After I’d depleted myself into a limp noodle, Grams led me to her guest room, the same one I’d slept in as a child when we stayed with her, and tucked me into bed. Grams explained that while we didn’t need sleep on the other side, she believed ‘closing my eyes for a pause’ would do me some good. I didn’t really care if I needed sleep…I wanted it, especially after my meltdown. Even in life, sleeping was my quiet time, a place in the calm and dark where I could reset. It was my safe haven from the souls that always stole my peace. For the last few months of my life, I hadn’t been able to find that solitude, not really, and I yearned for it, but even on the other side of living, it still eluded me.
As soon as I closed my eyes, I heard ticking. A clock…maybe a watch? The ticking grew louder as I followed the sound until I found the source. Lying open on the ground was a tarnished antique gold pocket watch. Bending down, I picked it up and watched the second hand move to the same rhythm as the sound. I snapped it closed as I stood, and the ticking halted.
“What the…” I muttered in confusion and opened it again. The ticking resumed. I closed it, and the ticking stopped. I repeated the cycle several more times with the same results. Finally I left it closed, choosing silence over the ticking.
So much for a peaceful sleep.
A shriek sounded in the distance, causing me to whip my head around in search of where the dreadful sound cam
e from. My stomach knotted as I realized it was Click, even though I couldn’t see her. She was shrieking—terrible wails like she’d made when I took her beloved music away. Tears burned my eyes, and I covered my ears, hoping to block the sound. When it grew quiet again, I dropped my hands as the hairs on the back of my neck stood.
I wasn’t alone.
I froze, holding my breath, opening myself up so I could figure out where I was sensing this person.
“Charlotte.”
Hidden amidst the pitch-black recess of my subconscious, a female voice called to me. Where was she? I didn’t move even a fraction of an inch, afraid she’d find me if I made any sound.
“Charlotte,” she called again. Her voice echoed, the reverberations pinging my mind each time, increasing my anxiety. Who was this? She had an accent—British. I didn’t know anyone British. At that moment I realized I’d never actually helped a soul that was British, either. That was odd. Though I was unsure, my curiosity got the better of me. Something in me reached back for her, like when someone stands on their tiptoes, hoping to see better without success. I instantly regretted it the moment I moved and something hooked me. My body jarred and I lost my footing. Unable to recover, I lunged in the opposite direction and used all of my strength to crawl, clawing at the ground, fighting whatever was trying to take me.
“Charlotte,” she called again as whatever had hold of me pulled harder.
I grunted and moved faster, but it wasn’t helping. I was losing ground, despite all my effort. Just when I thought I was going to be jerked into the unknown, something else grabbed my arm and I was released, my body crashing forward, my face burning from rubbing against the carpet.
“Charlotte!” Grams squawked. I jolted up, my hair a tangled mess across my face, panic coursing through my veins. Grams stood above me, her expression concerned and unsure as she stared down at me. I gulped in air, still exhausted from the tug of war I’d just played over my body with some unknown opponent. I was back in Grams’s guest bedroom, on the floor. I must’ve fallen out of the bed when I was released in my dream.
