Shark Out of Water

by DelSheree Gladden

  Once he was standing, he was unsure of what to do. Should he leave? Did she realize he had stayed with her all night? If she did, what would she think if she woke up and found him gone? Her faith in him was tenuous at best. He feared doing anything to make her doubt him. Although he knew it might upset her to find him here if she did not know he had spent the night, he thought it a better option than simply disappearing.

  Checking his phone, Guy realized it was quite early, only just after sunrise. He was not sure what time Charlotte was expected at work, but he assumed Warren’s school started close to eight o’clock. He was expected to be at the hospital for his shift at seven that morning. He debated whether or not to wake Charlotte right away. He knew she was tired still and did not want to disturb her too early, and thoughts of Warren distracted him from waking her.

  Turning away from the living room, Guy quietly moved into the kitchen. He had told Warren that he would see what he could do about French toast if he ever happened to be there in the morning. Guy hated to disappoint him, but he really had no idea how to make such a treat. He was quiet as he pulled out his phone and dialed.

  “Maman,” Guy said before she had a chance to answer, “I need to know how to make French toast.”

  She huffed in irritation at him speaking to her in English instead of French. “You are calling me for a recipe?”

  “Oui, I need your help.”

  Sighing, his mother said, “Why don’t you just hire a gouvernante?”

  “I do not need a housekeeper, Maman, and even if I had one, it would not help me in this case.”

  “Why not?” She was quiet for a moment before speaking again, her tone much softer. “You are not at home, n’est ce pas? You are cooking for someone? For a woman?” The shock in her voice was more than clear. Guy rolled his eyes, feeling suddenly embarrassed by his mother’s words.

  “For her son, actually,” Guy said defensively.

  Instead of being reprimanded, his mother sighed warmly. “I can help you, mon fils.”

  Guy was distracted by how kindly his mother spoke, telling him the simple ingredients and instructions on how to prepare the meal. He worked as quietly as he could, searching for bowls and pans and everything he needed. His mother spoke as he worked, interspersing her cooking advice with other random topics. He had out everything he needed a few minutes later and felt confident he could remember the steps she had told him, so he prepared to tell her goodbye, but his mother had one more thing to say.

  “Will you bring her and her son with you next week?” she asked. “I would very much like to meet a woman who could inspire my son to step inside a kitchen and call his maman for cooking advice.”

  Guy was stopped short by her request. “I had not asked her, Maman. I have only known her a few weeks. I do not even know if she has a passport for herself or Warren. And…” His voice trailed off, not about to go into the details of Charlotte’s health. “This may not be a good time for her.”

  His mother was quiet for several seconds before asking, “You have only known her a short while, yet you are doing such things for her?” She paused, considering something, and Guy did not fill the silence with a response. “Will you ask her?”

  “Why?”

  “Why? Because I want to meet her. A gift for me, for your father as well. S'il te plait?”

  Made uncomfortable by her request, Guy shook his head. “I will ask, but it is likely she will not be able to come.”

  “I understand,” his mother said, “but I want you to ask.”

  “All right, fine,” Guy agreed. He gave her a hasty goodbye and focused his attention on his first attempt at making French toast.

  He was not sure if the noise he was trying and failing not to make, or the smells of the food, were what woke Warren, but Guy was startled to find his mop of bed hair and bleary eyes looking up at him when he turned around sometime later. Warren yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth as he was too busy trying to rub his eyes. When he finished, he looked up at Guy curiously.

  “I thought you weren’t going to be here when I woke up?”

  Guy stared at the boy, whose dark eyes were scouring Guy intently. Two slightly burnt pieces of French toast were balanced on his spatula, startled halfway through delivering them to a plate. “It was not my plan. Your maman fell asleep on me when we were talking.”

  Warren climbed up into a chair at the table and propped his head on his hands. “She does that a lot lately. She’s tired all the time.”

  “Oui,” Guy said, not sure what to say after that. He went back to the French toast, setting the pieces he had just finished on a plate, which he set in front of Warren.

  In turn, Warren looked at them appraisingly. “What’re all these black parts?”

  “Uh,” Guy said with a laugh, “I am afraid I am not very good at making French toast.”

  Warren only shrugged, then hopped down from his chair and opened the pantry door. Guy listened to him bang things around for several seconds before walking over to help and seeing him struggling to get a bottle of syrup off the top shelf. He reached in to help him, but Warren blocked him, saying, “I can do it!”

  Guy backed off and watched him step completely into the pantry, using the bottom shelf as a step, to reach high enough. He looked so proud of himself when the bottle finally began to move toward him. Unfortunately, it fell straight for his head. Quick reflexes saved Warren from a bruised forehead, but not from damaged pride. He looked defeated when he realized Guy had stopped the syrup from falling on him.

  “You must be a very tall boy,” Guy said as he set the syrup in Warren’s hands. “I could not reach so high when I was your age. I was stuck pinching crackers and raisins from the bottom shelves when I was young.”

  Warren’s expression relayed that he suspected Guy was only saying that to make him feel better, but he grinned anyway. “I’ll get the butter from the fridge.”

  Guy nodded his consent and went back to the stove to flip another round of somewhat burnt slices of toast. Warren was settled back at the table, pouring an inordinate amount of syrup over his toast, when a surprised sound drew both their attention to the doorway. Charlotte stood on the threshold, staring. She did not say a word as she reached down and plucked the syrup bottle from Warren’s hand before coming over to stand next to Guy at the stove.

  She looked down at the French toast, then back up at him. “What are you doing?”

  “Making petit déjeuner.” She stared up at him in confusion. “Uh, breakfast,” he clarified. “I told Warren I would if I was here.”

  “But, I thought you didn’t know how,” she said quietly.

  “He kinda burned them,” Warren offered, seeming to expect his words would be helpful. Charlotte did not seem to hear him.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked Guy.

  Suddenly worried that Charlotte was upset by his presence, he set down the spatula and looked away. “We fell asleep,” he began, “and I did not want to simply disappear and make you think…”

  Charlotte rested her hand on his arm, drawing his eyes to hers. “Don’t you need to be at work soon?”

  “Oui, but I have time.”

  She glanced at the clock on the microwave, her brow furrowing. “You won’t have time to go back to your place to shower and change your clothes now.”

  “It is fine. I can do so at work. This was more important.”

  “But…”

  Guy stopped her arguments with a shake of his head. “Charlotte, please sit down and eat.” When she did not move right away, Guy worried again. “If you are upset by me being here, I can leave.”

  “No,” Charlotte said, finally smiling, “I’m not upset at all. I just worried that Warren’s request would make you late for work.”

  “I thought perhaps you had not realized I stayed and you were upset.”

  Charlotte’s stance softened. “I knew you stayed, and I’m glad you didn’t leave before I could tell you thank you.”

 
It was difficult not to grin at her words. Guy was well practiced at keeping his emotions hidden. He handed Charlotte a plate of French toast and gave her a gentle push toward the table. She walked away smiling. Guy joined them shortly after with his own food. As he ate, he knew his attempt at cooking fell short, but neither of them complained. Warren even told him it was a good try, which made Charlotte chuckle. Guy smiled at his undeserved praise.

  “If you’re done eating, can you go get dressed and brush your teeth?” Charlotte requested of her son. With a sigh, Warren hopped down and trudged toward the bathroom. Charlotte stared after him with a curious expression. When Guy asked her if something was wrong, she looked over at him, staring for several seconds before saying, “Warren is usually so eager to get to school it’s tough to keep up with him.” She looked back at Guy, her smile growing. “He is quite taken with you, Guy.”

  Although her comment pleased him, it also made him curious. He knew he risked being too personal, but he asked regardless. “Does Warren usually behave so friendly to the men you date?”

  Charlotte seemed caught off guard by the question. It took her a moment to respond. “I really wouldn’t know. I haven’t been on more than a casual date, usually set up by a friend, since Jackson.”

  “Then, you don’t bring men home often?” Guy asked, hoping the question did not seem rude.

  “Uh, no,” Charlotte said with a shake of her head.

  While Guy was surprised to learn men were not clamoring for Charlotte’s attention, he was confused. “Then, why did Warren ask me if I would be here in the morning as if it were normal for that to happen?”

  The blush that colored Charlotte’s cheeks was captivating. “I really don’t know,” she said. “He completely surprised me with that comment. I have never allowed a man to stay the night before.”

  “Never?” She shook her head, making Guy even more curious. He took a risk again, asking, “Have you been with a man since Jackson’s death?”

  He almost regretted the question when Charlotte’s blush deepened to scarlet, but he could not bring himself to take it back. He waited, watching Charlotte’s expression until she answered in a quiet, embarrassed voice. “No, I haven’t.” She looked up at Guy, red coloring every inch of her skin. “Is that pathetic, or what?”

  Touched by her honesty, Guy slid his chair closer to her and took her hands in his. “No, it is not. You loved him very much, yes?” She nodded and Guy smiled. “You are not a woman to give away her affection lightly. That is not a quality to feel shame about.”

  Her lips turned up slowly, morphing into a teasing smile. “That is the last thing I would have expected to hear from a Frenchman who has seduced a significant number of the single women in Chicago. Are you sure you’re really French?”

  “Oui, I am quite sure. You can ask my maman if you do not believe me.”

  Guy’s teasing mellowed quickly as his conversation reminded him of his mother’s request. His hands tightened around Charlotte’s, the thought of asking her making him anxious. When he looked away, Charlotte slipped her hands out of his and gently pushed him to look at her.

  “Guy, I’m sorry. I was just teasing. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad about your past relationships. It wasn’t my place to comment. I wasn’t trying to judge you or anything.” She held her breath, clearly hoping he was not upset with her.

  Guy shook his head slowly, placing his hands on her knees and leaning toward her. “I am not upset. You may judge me any way you see fit. I am deserving, no doubt.”

  She did not seem convinced, but she said, “Then what? Something I said upset you.”

  “It was nothing you said. It was my maman.”

  “Your…mom?”

  Guy nodded.

  “When did you speak to your mom?”

  “This morning. I had to call her and ask how to make French toast.”

  The smile that slipped onto Charlotte’s lips was nearly enough to steal his focus. “What did your mom say to upset you then?” Charlotte asked.

  Explaining to Charlotte was not easy. She knew of Guy’s many past relationships—if they could even be called that—and she teased him about it frequently, but Guy suspected she did not truly understand just how cavalier and sometimes cruel he had been to the women he dated, casting them aside for insignificant reasons even when he knew they cared about him. He feared telling her of his mother’s reaction to what he was doing would give him away and make Charlotte see him in a different light. She had shared everything with him, though, trusting him. He owed her the same courtesy.

  He could not manage to ask her directly, however, so he began with, “Charlotte, do you have a valid passport?”

  Charlotte blinked in response to the seemingly random question, but she nodded all the same. “Yes. Why?”

  “Does Warren?”

  Now she seemed not only confused, but curious as well. “Yes. A close friend of mine teaches at a university in Peru and she invited us down for a few weeks last summer. Warren loved it.”

  Struggling to control his shaking hands, Guy did not look at Charlotte as he asked, “How would Warren feel about visiting France?”

  “What?” Charlotte asked. The shock in her voice forced him to look up at her. He was heartened that she looked more surprised than angry at his forwardness, but it was hardly an enthusiastic response.

  “My maman, she has invited you. I would not have asked such a thing of you so soon, or at such a difficult time, if not for her request. I know this may not be something you are able to do, and that is all right. I will not bother you about it again. I only promised her I would pose the question, not that you and Warren would come.”

  Guy stopped babbling, waiting with baited breath for her to respond. When she did not, he could not help filling the silence. “Would Myles even clear you to travel? You have not yet said when you are meant to begin chemo. Perhaps Warren could not miss a whole week of school.”

  He cursed himself for sounding as if he were trying to talk her out of going. Despite his reluctance to ask, nothing would have pleased him more than to have Charlotte and Warren accompany him.

  “Okay,” Charlotte said softly.

  Guy frowned, not sure he had heard or understood correctly. “Excuse me?”

  Charlotte shook herself, then looked up at Guy. “Okay, we’ll come with you, although, I’m not sure we’ll be able to get plane tickets so late.” She cringed. “They’re going to be expensive.”

  “Non, non. I will take care of all the arrangements.” He stared at her, trying to find some hint that she was joking. “You are serious? You will really come with me, yes?”

  Covering her face with both her hands, Charlotte took them away a moment later. “This is crazy, right?”

  “Oui, très fou,” Guy said with a laugh.

  “But why not?” Charlotte argued with herself. “I won’t have this chance again for a while. Warren will be so excited. I’ve always wanted to go, and…”

  “And what?”

  “And…” Charlotte bit at her bottom lip nervously. “And I would like to spend the time with you before…before you look at me and see nothing but my illness, before I’m not pretty anymore, not someone you would try so hard to please with burnt French toast.”

  Guy could not resist taking her face in his hands and pressing his lips to her forehead. He did not pull away as he whispered, “I will always want to please you, ma chérie.”

  Chapter 16

  Merci

  Feeling bad that he had been at work most of the week leading up to the trip to France, Guy hurried through his paperwork and practically ran out of his office at the end of his shift. Judging by the multiple calls he had gotten that day from Charlotte, she was feeling quite stressed about leaving the country on such short notice. Likely, she was wondering why on earth she agreed to let Guy take her on such a trip when they knew so little about each other. He only hoped she was not regretting her decision as he stopped off at the nurses’ station.
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  “Are you heading out?” Kit asked.

  “Oui, I am. You will hold down the fort for me until I return?” Guy asked as he handed her a stack of charts.

  Kit laughed. “Hey, you got that one right!” She took the charts and set them aside. “Everything will be fine. We’ll all miss you, though. I hope you have fun. You certainly deserve it.”

  “I think it will be a good trip.”

  He started to turn around, but Kit spoke again. “I heard a rumor that you’re taking a guest with you on this trip.” She paused, waiting for Guy to say something, or maybe to tell her it was none of her business. When he did neither, she continued. “I also heard that you’ve never done that before.”

  She waited, but strangely, Guy did not feel the usual discomfort that typically accompanied being asked about his relationships. A smile crept onto Guy’s lips. “Oui, I am taking a friend and her son with me.”

  “A friend?” Kit questioned. The knowing smile on her face made Guy chuckle.

  “We are still figuring things out. For now, I am just trying to make sure she does not wise up and decide not to come with me.”

  Kit laughed. “I’m sure she knows you’ll take good care of her.” Her humor was refreshing, but it quickly mellowed. Her expression became serious as she said, “Seriously, though, we’re all really happy for you. We all see how much you give to others. It’s nice to see you happy, finally.”

  Unsure of what to say to that, Guy only shrugged and looked away. He was startled when Kit threw her arms around him. It took him a moment to hug her back. There was nothing more than friendship in the embrace, and after the hectic week and the stress of everything he had been through in the past few weeks, he appreciated her support.