by Avery James
She made it all the way across Georgetown to his house before she realized she had no way of getting inside. Instead, she sat back down on the front steps and hung her head in her hands.
"There you are," Jack said, opening the door behind her. "I've been looking for you."
"I was looking for you," she said. "I thought you were in Massachusetts."
Jack furrowed his brow. "I was at a meeting on Massachusetts Ave. You don't think I would have given you a heads up if I was heading out of town? Ed called me after you showed up at the office. He said you brought some kind of gift."
"I'm such an idiot," Charlotte said. She nodded down at the pie. "I made you a pie. I ate some of it on a bench. It was whole when I brought it to your office."
"Now it has a hole instead. Did you really make that for me?" He sat down on the step next to her and picked up the pie. "No way. Rhubarb?"
"Yeah, I thought I'd surprise you."
"I am surprised. Thank you."
"It's ruined now." "It's far from ruined." Jack pulled the wrap off. "You have anything to eat this with?"
"Like ice cream?" Charlotte asked.
"Like a fork," Jack replied.
"Oh." She reached into her purse and pulled out the plastic forks.
Jack took the unused one. With the first bite of pie he closed his eyes and grinned. "That's amazing," he said. "Where did you learn to make pie like that?"
"From my mother," Charlotte said. "This doesn't really compare to hers. You'll find out soon enough."
"Oh yeah?" Jack waited to swallow before he grinned at her. He invited her with his eyes to dig in to the pie.
"Yeah, she called me on her way back. We're meeting them this weekend. So we have to get our story straight if they're going to believe us. They'll need more than your charming smile."
"Is that right?"
"That's right. This might take a while."
As Charlotte looked at him, she forgot all about the frustration of that afternoon and the doubts that had nagged her all the way back from his office. Maybe she didn't know what was going to happen that weekend when they visited her parents. Maybe she didn't know what would happen in a year or two. But at least in that moment, as she sat on the steps eating pie, she was sure she had everything she wanted.
Jack took another bite of pie. "You know, that's alright by me."
Chapter 11
Charlotte sank lower in her seat as Jack rounded the corner onto her parents' street. The windshield wipers of his Cadillac pushed the light rain back and forth across the glass, and Charlotte tried her best to focus on the streaks the wipers left behind instead of the view beyond. She didn't have to look to know what the neighborhood looked like. Wisteria, Pennsylvania, was the magical town half an hour outside Philadelphia where nothing ever changed.
A gust of wind stirred the bright autumn leaves from the ground and blew them past the car, drawing Charlotte's attention up to the trees. Most of the maples and elms that lined the street were already bare. Charlotte wondered if there was any chance of getting Jack to turn the car back around and make the three and a half hour trip back to DC, but she knew it was too late to ask when she spotted her parents' house at the end of the street.
It would have been hard not to. Even from a distance, no one would mistake it for any other house on the block. The house itself wasn't all that different from the ones around it. The whole neighborhood was made up of two- and three-bedroom capes and bungalows built in the 1930s and 1940s, but it was the long, glowing strings of orange, pumpkin-shaped lights her parents had hung from the trees. The carved pumpkins lining the walkway up to the tiny porch didn't help either.
Charlotte's parents always over-decorated for and over-celebrated every holiday, every birthday, and every milestone, major or minor, but Halloween was one of their favorites. The attic and basement of her parents' house were mazes of box after box of seasonal decorations. She wondered what celebrations they'd have in store now that their daughter was getting married.
As Jack pulled into the driveway, Charlotte tensed. She reached over and placed her hand over his.
"I have to warn you," she said. "My parents can be a little enthusiastic, and, um, opinionated." Charlotte didn't want to see Jack's reaction when he met her parents. She just wanted to fast forward through all of it and pretend it never happened. She worried that they wouldn't like him, that they'd question her judgment. She worried that they would like him and make everything that much more complicated.
Jack seemed amused at her warning. In fact, he seemed happier than he had been in the entire time she'd known him. Looking at him, she would have guessed he was going somewhere great, like a concert by his favorite musician or a trip to… Charlotte realized she should probably know Jack's favorite things if she was going to convince anyone they were really a couple.
"I'm used to dealing with opinionated people," he said. "I've been called just about every name in the book for my political beliefs, my fame and my wealth. I don't think an evening with the Crowleys will bring my world crashing in."
"It's not your politics or your fame I worry about. My parents like to act like I'm still a kid," she said. "Plus, I don't know what they'll make of you."
"What does that mean? I make a good first impression."
Charlotte laughed. "You're wearing a custom tailored suit, and a five hundred dollar shirt."
"Is it too casual?" Jack laughed and shook his head. "Everything will be fine. Maybe you had forgotten, but I'm the baby of my family, and everyone treats me like a kid too." He opened his door and stepped out into the cool October air. "Let's meet the parents."
Charlotte took a deep breath and followed him to the walkway. The rain was starting to pick up a little as it fell over her shoulders, and she wondered what it would do to the Italian wool of Jack's suit.
Charlotte's dad was standing at the top of a ladder, leaning over the roof of the porch, holding a hammer in one hand and a large, stuffed witch on a broomstick in the other. He turned as she and Jack approached the steps. Charlotte felt a rush of embarrassment as she watched her dad clamber down the ladder to greet them.
It had only been a few months since Charlotte had last been home, but she was surprised by how much older her father looked than she remembered. It seemed like the wisps of brown hair on top of his head had thinned in the time they'd been apart, and more gray was starting to work its way back from his temples. He still wore the same pair of glasses he had worn since she was a kid, the ones with horn-rimmed frames which now looked hip but were gloriously uncool when he had first brought them home two decades earlier.
"This is going to be fun," Jack said quietly.
"Shut up," Charlotte whispered, elbowing him in the side. "And play nice."
"Bean!" her father exclaimed. "Your mother and I thought you weren't getting in until later this evening. I would have married you off long ago if I had known it would get you to visit."
"We made good time," Charlotte said. Her father dropped his tools onto the soggy lawn and hugged her.
"This must be Mr. Coburn," her dad said.
"Please, call me Jack," he said. He smiled and held out his hand. "You have a beautiful home, Mr. Crowley. It's great to finally meet you."
"Mr. Crowley was my father's name. Call me Dr. Crowley," her dad said.
Charlotte watched Jack's expression go blank as he tried to figure out whether or not her dad was kidding.
"Well, then I take it back. You can call me Congressman Coburn," Jack said, without his characteristic handshaking smile.
Charlotte's face burned with embarrassment. This is a disaster, she thought.
Both men suddenly burst into laughter. Jack's eyes widened in surprise as Charlotte's dad pulled him by the hand into a surprise hug.
Charlotte sighed in relief. So far, things seemed to be going surprisingly well. She wondered how long that would last.
"Bean never mentioned you were a doctor," Jack said.
"He has a
doctorate in English Literature," Charlotte said. "It's not exactly the same thing is it, dad?"
"Just don't tell the medical board, and we should be fine," her father replied. He tried to hold back his grin. "Jack, you can call me Peter, Pete or Doc if you like."
"Dad's a high school English teacher," Charlotte added, "and no one has ever called him Doc."
"Doesn't mean we can't start now," her dad said.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Pete," Jack said. He looked back to Charlotte for instructions on what to do next. It started to dawn on her that for once, in Wisteria, Jack was the one out of place. As awkward as she felt bringing him to her childhood home, he must have felt totally out of his element . Maybe she'd finally have a chance to catch him by surprise instead of letting everything happen the other way around.
Pete cleared his throat. "Your mother is inside making preparations for dinner. Jack, before you pop in to meet her, if you don't mind, I could use a hand with a few of the final touches outside. Are you any good with a hammer?"
Jack looked up into the storm clouds. "Why don't I just change ou—"
Before he could finish, Charlotte answered for him. "He'd love to help. In fact, on the way over he was talking about how much he enjoys getting his hands dirty."
That was good enough for Pete. He slapped a hammer into Jack's hand, and coaxed him up the ladder. Jack tossed his wet coat down to Charlotte with a smirk that showed he knew he'd been played.
"You have over a dozen of the same one," she reminded him.
Jack smiled and balanced the hammer on a ladder rung while he rolled up his sleeves. He hammered two nails in and hung the top portion of the witch, then he did another and another as the wind picked up. Charlotte and her father watched Jack concentrate on hanging the witch and arranging her broom in a way that made her appear to be flying.
Jack looked good on top of that ladder. He looked effortlessly masculine with his forearms bared and a hammer in his hand. If it weren't for the shiny shoes and the silk shirt, he wouldn't have looked out of place at all. Once he had the witch posed in full flight, he took a few steps down the ladder and looked up, shaking his head in disapproval.
"Looks good enough to me," Pete called up.
"If I move it a little to the left, that big poplar tree by the sidewalk won't block the view for trick-and-treaters," Jack said. Charlotte wondered if he really cared what the witch looked like or if he was just trying to impress her dad.
"Well, it's not hanging upside down like last year. That's a good start," Pete said.
"One second," Jack said. He braced himself against the roof as the rain started to fall harder. All Charlotte could think was that Jack was going to slip and fall and it would all be her fault, but of course, he didn't. He leaned a bit further forward and repositioned the witch over the porch, quickly nailing it into place before climbing down and handing the hammer to Pete. Jack looked at Charlotte and then back up to admire his handy work. He was pleased with himself.
"You know, it might be a little crooked," Charlotte teased.
"It's perfect," her father said. "If your political career comes to ruin, you can always fall back on hammering nails for a living."
"I might just do that," Jack said. He stepped a bit farther back down the walkway and looked up at the witch again. "You're right, Charlotte. It's off, but I can fix it."
"Nonsense, it's fine," Pete replied. "Witches are like politicians anyway."
"How's that?" Jack asked.
"They're all a little crooked," Pete said with a laugh.
Jack smiled and shook his head. He walked back over to the ladder. "It will just take a second."
The rain had grown stronger and heavier, and Charlotte stepped up onto the dry porch. "I was just ribbing you, Jack," she said. "The witch is fine. Come inside before you hurt yourself."
Instead of a response, she got to watch Jack climb back up the ladder as the skies darkened even further. Her father joined her on the porch and they listened to the sounds of the hammer as Jack pried out nails and drove them back in until finally the witch was on straight.
When he climbed back down the ladder, he looked like someone had tossed him into a lake with all his clothes on. His hair stuck to his forehead, and streaks of water ran over his face. His silk shirt was plastered to his body, leaving little imagination required to picture his muscular chest. Charlotte grabbed the hammer from him and shook her head. Jack smiled sheepishly.
"On second thought, I might just stick to my day job," he said.
Pete placed his hand on his daughter's shoulder. "Charlotte, help your fiancé find some dry clothes while I go help your mother with dinner. There should be something in my dresser that will work. The waist might be a little too big, and the legs will probably be a bit short, but I'm sure you can make it work."
Charlotte led Jack inside and ushered him up the stairs. She pointed to her bedroom.
"Wait in there," she said. "I'll be back in a minute."
Jack started unbuttoning his shirt before she could turn away. He was enjoying himself. She could tell. She just hoped that he didn't enjoy himself a bit too much at her expense, especially after she'd sent him up that ladder in the rain.
She headed down the hall to her parents' bedroom. It was strange to be home again and even stranger to be there with Jack. Charlotte hadn't introduced a boyfriend to her parents since college. She hadn't seen the point. Now she had brought home a fiancé. She wondered what her parents must be thinking.
As she stepped into their room, everything was just how she remembered it but cleaner. Every inch of the room had been dusted, and every item of clothing had been neatly folded away. Charlotte felt a twinge of regret deep in her stomach. News of her engagement must have surprised the hell out of her parents, and now they were clearly doing their best to make a good first impression on their son-in-law-to-be. She wished she could tell them that it was all just for show.
Charlotte ransacked her parents' room looking for something suitable for Jack. The best she could do was an old sweatshirt of her father's and a pair of pants that she knew wouldn't really fit. She grabbed a towel from the linen closet and headed back to her room. She pushed the door open and held out a towel.
Charlotte's room looked almost exactly the same as it had on the day she'd moved out years ago. The bookshelves were still crammed with books. Even on a rainy day, light poured in through the windows, making the room bright and cheery. It would have been nice to come back to if it weren't for one big difference: Jack stood in the center of the room, wearing nothing but a smile.
"A little privacy?" he said.
"A little modesty?" Charlotte shot back.
Jack shook his head. "You chould have knocked. Besides, you were the one so eager to get my clothes off."
"It's nothing I haven't already seen," Charlotte replied. "Or have you already forgotten about that?"
She tossed him the sweatshirt and pants. She averted her eyes from his naked physique and looked down at his crumpled dress shirt on the floor.
"How much is that shirt worth now?" she asked.
Jack didn't answer. Instead he stepped into the pants. She was right that they were too wide and too short for him, but as expected, he made it work.
"I like your dad," Jack said. "And your house, it's just how I thought it would be. You make much more sense now."
"What does that mean?" Charlotte asked as Jack tossed her his rain-soaked pants.
"It means it's wonderful. Again, I really like your dad," he laughed. Jack checked himself out in the mirror and shook his head. "That being said, I knew I should have brought a change of clothes."
"Really?" Charlotte asked. "I think it's a good look for you. Come on. Dinner's almost ready, and you still need to meet my mom. Try not to ruin these clothes in an attempt to impress her. Otherwise, you'll have to spend the rest of the trip in the buff."
"Be careful what you wish for," Jack said. He took the towel from Charlotte. "Come on, your d
ad asked for help."
"And you could have just helped instead of insisting on making everything perfect," she added.
Jack had a glow to him, an excitement and warmth she hadn't seen since the night he proposed to her. His wet hair was a mess, jutting off in wild directions, and he smiled back at her as he lifted the towel to his head. The muscles in his chest and abs danced as he vigorously rubbed his hair dry.
God, when he's not in the suit he looks so… normal, Charlotte thought. Well, Jack could never look normal, but for once, he looks like someone I could imagine dating instead of impossibly gorgeous political royalty.
"Dressed down is a good look for you," Charlotte said. "Remind me to leave you out in the rain more often."
"I'm not sure shirtless counts as dressed down, Bean," Jack teased.
Charlotte bit her lower lip and stared at him. "Not funny."
"I think it's cute," Jack said. He grinned.
"You can make fun of me, but don't make fun of my parents, ok?"
"I'm not." Jack put his hand over his heart. "I need a nickname for you, and Bean works better than Char, or Lottie. Though, I'm not quite sure if any do you justice."
Why is he looking at me like that? Charlotte wondered.
"Can we just try to make it through this trip?" she asked.
"Sure thing, Bean," Jack said, grinning at her displeasure.
Charlotte crossed the room and stepped right in front of Jack, all but pressing her nose against his.
"I told you not to call me that," she whispered.
As she stared him down, she realized she hadn't been this close to Jack since the night he had proposed to her. He looked back at her with a mischievous look, like he couldn't wait to keep pushing her buttons.
"I know that look, but I'm serious," she warned him, "don't do it again."
Jack placed his hand on her hip and leaned in a little closer, brushing his cheek against hers as he whispered in her ear. "That's not what I was thinking of doing."
