Guy sat with Lily for much longer than he intended. Even after he heard Carmody approach and stand in the doorway, he did not move right away. “What will you do with Lily when you and Michael go to France?” Guy finally asked.
For a long moment, Carmody did not answer. She did, however, walk further into the room and sit down on the end of the bed. “Why? Are you offering?” she asked, not sounding nearly as surprised as Guy would have expected.
“I…” Guy half shrugged, half shook his head. “I was just curious. My work schedule, it would make it difficult.”
The corner of Carmody’s mouth turned up. “You won’t cat sit, but you’ll watch a three-year-old? Normal people would pick the cat, hands-down.”
“Hands-down?” Guy questioned.
“It means it would be an easy choice. Cats are much easier than children.”
Guy shook his head again. “I was just curious.”
“We were planning to ask Michael’s parents to watch her,” Carmody explained, “but they might need a break now and again if you were willing.”
Nodding, Guy said, “I would like that.”
Carmody was smiling as she helped pull the sleeping girl off Guy’s chest and tucked her into her blankets. When Lily was safely in her bed, Carmody did not walk away. Instead, she turned to look up at Guy. “Why are you willing to watch Lily, but not India’s cat?”
“It is different with family.”
“You consider us family?” Carmody asked, clearly touched by the sentiment.
“Of course,” Guy said, “how could I not?”
Carmody stepped forward and pulled Guy into a hug. The peace it brought him was something he had had a difficult time finding of late. When Carmody pulled back, she was smiling. “Lily is going to be so excited that she’ll get to hang out with you.”
“I hope I can live up to her expectations.”
Laughing, Carmody pulled him out of the room. “I don’t think you have to worry, Guy. You’re a natural. You’ll be a great parent.”
Guy was caught off guard by her words. A parent? Watching Lily for a few hours did not mean he desired children. He wanted to ignore the idea, but as he sat down to talk with Michael and Carmody, he found his thoughts drawn back to Charlotte. It had been bothering him all week why talking to her seemed so different. He realized only then that it was because the way he felt when he was around her was a feeling he recognized. It felt like being with Carmody and Michael and Lily. It felt like famille.
Chapter 8
Obsédé
Guy sat down opposite Vance, considerably less anxious than he had been the night before. His friend had also toned down his frantic manner. Vance’s immediate smothering had angered Guy, but he knew it stemmed from their differing approaches to crises. While Vance preferred immediate interaction, Guy had always been one who required time to take everything in and process what was happening. This was not the first time the friends had ended up in an argument because of such viewpoints. Luckily, they had known each other long enough by that point to not let it escalate into a full-fledged fight.
“I’m sorry for getting in your face about this,” Vance began. “I should have known better and given you some space.”
Guy shrugged off his concern. “I know you meant well. I am sorry, too, for my attitude.”
Apologies out of the way, both men settled in for the real discussion. “How are you handling Patricia’s suicide?”
Flinching at the word, Guy looked away. If he spoke of her death, he did not refer to it as suicide… except for with Charlotte, he realized. A subtle noise from Vance drew his attention back to the question. “I feel responsible, no matter what anyone says. I am second guessing every decision I made in regards to her. I tell myself I could have saved her. She could still be here if I had done something different.”
“Maybe she could be alive,” Vance said. “Maybe you could have saved her if you had made a different choice, but for how long? How long before Patricia landed back in the hospital, or in the morgue, through her own choices?”
“She wanted to improve.”
“Maybe when you first met her, but she was beyond the point where she could even understand what it would mean to be clean and stable. You made the right choice admitting her to an inpatient facility.”
“Then why is she dead?” Guy demanded. His hands balled into fists as he fought back the regret and anger.
Vance waited patiently for his friend to regain himself before speaking. “How did it happen? She was supposed to be on suicide watch.”
“A plastic fork,” Guy said with a shake of his head. “Whoever prepared her meal made an error. She broke the plastic fork put on her tray by mistake and used it on her wrists. By the time the orderly saw the blood, it was too late. She had cut too deeply. They could not stem the bleeding in time.”
Vance shook his head. “The fact remains, she could have done the same thing, even more easily, back on the streets.”
“She would not have felt so threatened!” Guy argued. “She would not have taken her own life if I had released her.”
“Why was she brought in?” Vance asked. Silence fell, making him sigh. “She attacked another street person because she thought the ghosts were talking to him about her. And when the police came, she attacked them as well, screaming that they were kidnapping her to kill her. Guy, she felt threatened by everything. There was no escaping that.”
Guy was quiet. He knew everything Vance said was logical. He knew it made sense. His words did not change the guilt he held.
“Look, Guy, I know nothing I say will take away the fact that you feel responsible for Patricia’s death, but don’t carry that guilt around on your own. Let me share the load. Talk to me.”
“That is what Charlotte said,” Guy said quietly.
Vance’s head cocked to one side. “Charlotte? Is she the woman you brought to the wedding?”
Guy shook his head. “No, that was Carmody, a friend of mine.”
“Then who is Charlotte?”
Guy was slow to answer, though not for the same reasons he did not want to admit who Carmody was to Leila. He hesitated because he did not know the answer. Finally, he shrugged. “Just a woman I met at the hospital. We have spoken a few times over coffee. That is it.”
“That’s it?” Vance questioned. “A woman at the hospital, who you obviously trusted enough to talk to about something very personal, and who gave you some very good advice, and that’s it?” Vance shook his head. “Where are all these secret friends coming from?”
When Guy gave in and told Vance about Carmody, how they met, and the family dinners they shared, his friend was stunned. “Guy, why have you kept her a secret? Why would you hide that part of yourself?”
“It is not who I wanted to be seen as.”
“What do you mean by that? None of us would think any less of you for having married friends or a female friend you had a platonic relationship with. We all know you’re a shameless flirt, but it’s just your personality. You’re friendly and love to have fun, but that’s not the whole you. We know that.”
Looking up at the ceiling in frustration, Guy shook his head. “I do not want to be so transparent. People should not see everything of who I am. There is public and there is private. There should be parts of my life that are hidden from everyone else.”
Confused, Vance said nothing for several long seconds. “Why does Carmody need to be something private? If you’re not having an affair with her—which I believe you aren’t—why keep her as part of your life you don’t want anyone to know about?”
“Because that is not me.” Guy folded his arms across his chest. “That is not who I was raised to be.”
Now Vance seemed even more confused. “Your parents, your mom especially, wants you to settle down and have a family. I don’t get what you mean by that.”
“In public you are one thing, business, professional, respectable. In private, that is when you have quiet dinners with friend
s like Carmody, when you get French silk pie on your shirt sleeve and don’t change it right away, when you read stories to a little girl who giggles like a tiny hyena.” Guy huffed, irritated at having to explain such things, frustrated for not knowing whether it even made sense anymore.
When he looked up at his friend, he was surprised to see Vance smiling. “You read stories to Carmody’s daughter?”
“I always put her to bed and read a book to her when I stay for dinner,” Guy said. What was so unusual about that?
Vance was smart enough to see signs that Guy was now on the defensive. He redirected, asking, “Tell me about Charlotte. Why are you having deep conversations with her instead of flirting and seducing her back to your flat?”
Sulking like a child, Guy muttered, “Je ne sais pas.”
“You don’t know?” That seemed to truly surprise Vance. “Well, I suggest you find out.”
“What?” Guy snapped. “That is your advice to me? Find out?”
Vance nodded. “Oui, mon ami. Find out why Charlotte has done what it has taken me years and years to do. Why let down your barrier between public and private for someone you barely know, when I had to practically force you to do the same thing today.”
“Why?”
“Why?” Vance repeated. “Because you need to know. You won’t stop obsessing about her until you do.”
“Obsédé? Who says I am obsessing over her?”
Vance folded his arms across his chest. “She is in your thoughts so much that you mentioned her name when you clearly had no intention of revealing her to me.” Leaning forward, he looked at his friend seriously. “Guy, I have known you for a long time. You have surprised me today, but I know how you can be like a dog with a bone. You’ll drive yourself crazy wondering what it is about Charlotte that got past your defenses until it either drives you crazy or you figure it out. Given the line of work we’re in, I’d suggest figuring it out.”
“I thought I was here to talk about Patricia,” Guy grumbled.
Leaning back with a smirk, Vance said, “We are. Just had to find something you wanted to talk about even less to spur you on, apparently.” He shook his head when Guy rolled his eyes. “Something else is bothering you when it comes to Patricia. The funeral is tomorrow. You’re avoiding talking about it. Why?”
Guy did not respond right away. His breathing escalated to the point that Vance reached forward and put a hand on his shoulder. “Her parents… they came to see me at the hospital.”
“How did they react?”
Shaking his head, he still struggled to understand their reaction. Instead of answering Vance’s new question, he answered the original one. “They requested I stand as a pallbearer.” His head fell into his hands. “I don’t know if I can. It is too difficult.”
“It will undoubtedly be difficult,” Vance said with compassion, “but it is difficult for Patricia’s parents as well. They see you as the one person who truly tried to help her. I think it comforts them to think of you being there to help her on this one last transition.”
“I don’t know if I can do this for them.”
Vance squeezed Guy’s shoulder. “You don’t have to if it is too much.”
“Not doing it feels like a betrayal of Patricia.”
“Guy, don’t make this about Patricia or her parents. What do you feel comfortable with and how do you want to say goodbye to Patricia?”
That was not an easy question. Guy sank back into the chair. Vance waited with the patience of a saint as Guy forced himself to confront the answers. He had been through so much with Patricia, watched her move forward only to fall so far again and again. She never stopped trying, and he never stopped trying to help her. “I want to help her this one last time,” Guy said finally.
“Then call Patricia’s parents when you get home and tell them you’ll be there.”
Feeling more at peace, Guy nodded.
“Stephanie and I will be there as well.” Vance held his friend’s gaze for a moment longer, making sure he knew he did not have to face the funeral alone. When Guy’s shoulders relaxed, Vance sat back. “Now why don’t you tell me about the day you met Patricia?”
As Guy began recounting the first time Patricia came into the crisis center wanting to talk about everything from the side effects of the medications she was taking to how her puppy would not stop peeing on her kitchen floor, his thoughts returned to Vance’s earlier challenge. Patricia had struck a chord with him, and so had Charlotte, in surprisingly similar ways. He understood why he has connected with Patricia, a struggling and confused young woman, but Charlotte was more of a mystery. What would it take to find out why Charlotte had affected him so much?
Chapter 9
Comment cela?
The last thing Guy wanted to do after Patricia’s funeral was work the night shift. He had little choice in the matter. Dr. Canton had taken his day shift so he could attend the funeral, and that kind of favor had to be returned immediately. Guy was exhausted. He trudged into the hospital well ahead of the time he was expected, but he had not had the inclination to go back to his flat and sit alone for an hour. Stewing in his thoughts was the last thing he needed.
As Guy turned the corner toward the cafeteria, intent on a caffeine boost, his thoughts were clouded with words spoken by Patricia’s family and friends. He paid attention to little else. Until the sound of a familiar voice broke through his thoughts.
“Fancy meeting you here,” Charlotte said, drawing Guy’s eyes to her soft smile. “You look like you’re headed somewhere interesting. A date, or the theater maybe?”
For a moment, Guy could not respond. He was struck by the comfort just being near Charlotte provided him. It took several seconds longer to process what she had said and craft an appropriate response. “Coming from, not going to. Un enterrement. A funeral, I mean.”
Charlotte’s expression softened with regret. “Guy, I’m so sorry. Whose funeral was it?”
“My patient, the one who passed away recently.” Not wanting to discuss Patricia, or the funeral, Guy changed the subject. “I am on my way up to work now.”
“In your suit?” she questioned.
Guy glanced down at his black, three-piece suit, realizing only then that it was hardly appropriate attire for the hospital. Shaking his head, he scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I think I have some scrubs in my locker.”
His hand fell back to his side. Suddenly, he did not want to get into the elevator. He did not want to be in the hospital at all. Looking up at Charlotte, Guy said, “Do you have any plans right now?”
Surprised, Charlotte did not answer right away. Her fingers tightened and loosened around her purse strap several times before she spoke. “I thought you had to work.”
“I have an hour before I must report,” Guy explained. He wanted very much to get away from the hospital, preferably with Charlotte, but her hesitation was obvious. “If you have somewhere to be, however, it is okay. I just needed to get away for a few minutes. I did not mean to intrude.”
“No,” Charlotte said quickly. “I’d love to come. I just need to make a call first, okay? Just give me one minute.” She looked at Guy as she pulled her phone out, waiting for him to respond. She seemed to think he was going to disappear if she looked away.
“Of course,” Guy said. He was relieved by her smile. Part of him suspected she had only said yes in order to be polite, but he would accept her charity. He did not want to sit alone for an hour, thinking thoughts he had no strength left to consider. The funeral had taken too much out of him.
He watched Charlotte as she stepped a few feet away and pressed her phone to her ear. He could not hear anything she said, but he thought Charlotte looked anxious about something when she glanced back at him during the conversation. Then her lips turned up when she saw him watching her. The tension in her shoulders seemed to release, just slightly, and she wrapped up the conversation a few seconds later.
Putting her phone back in her purse as she ap
proached him, Charlotte said, “Where would you like to go?”
“There is a small bistro nearby. Is that acceptable?”
“It’s fine,” Charlotte said. “Lead the way.”
The walk out of the hospital and down the street was quiet. Just having Charlotte close calmed his turmoil. She glanced over at him with a concerned expression several times as they walked, but he remained quiet. The only thing he allowed himself to think about was how odd this all seemed. Aside from his morning meetings with Carmody—which he had missed that day in order to drive to a neighboring town for the funeral and internment—Guy never had such ordinary interactions with women.
Those who knew Guy were well familiar with his flirtatious behavior. It didn’t matter if the woman was attractive, young or old, he enjoyed making them smile by playing up his accent and throwing out compliments with abandon. Of course, he often flirted for real, because he was genuinely interested in a woman, but even then, it was fun and light. Guy rarely behaved seriously with women. He did not let himself. Being serious led to cat sitting requests or discussions about the future, neither of which he wanted to be a part of.
Charlotte was very beautiful, as well as kind and considerate. She buoyed his spirits without even trying, yet Guy felt no desire to slip into his usual cheeky banter. He was not sure why, but something about her would not allow such frivolity and casualness.
When they reached the doors of the bistro, Guy quickly stepped ahead and pulled the door open for Charlotte. She seemed only mildly surprised, but walked past him with a grateful smile and a quick thank you. They stepped into the little restaurant and were told by a voice from somewhere to sit wherever they wanted. Charlotte took the lead and selected a booth near the back, one that was private and away from the other customers. He slid into the faux leather seat, grateful for her choice.
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