WindSwept Narrows: #13 Charity, Faith & Hope

by Diroll-Nichols, Karen

  “So…here we are…” her head shook slightly, immediately silencing the shouted questions. “I’ll talk unless you become ill-mannered. You’re trespassing. This is private property and you know it. If you get me fired, I’m gonna be pissed,” she heard a few chuckles and offered a smile of her own. “I don’t know how or why this is important to anyone. Seriously. I’m over eighteen. Last time I checked, it’s supposed to be a fairly normal thing for girls to strike out on their own. Is it a slow news day out there?”

  She stopped, listening to a couple grumbles, a few words reaching her.

  “Ahhhhh…the review…let’s discuss the review. You’re acting like it’s some kind of illicit underground peep show. Are you people actually adults? I love to sing and I’m quite good at dancing. The costumes I wear cover more than a bikini on the beach. The dance routines…have you people watched the skating in the Olympics? Oh, or what about those little girls prancing and stretching and splitting in the gymnastic routines? Really, people…are we seriously that puritanical? Is some male run church ruling your news stories or do you give genuine thought to what you report? I am over eighteen,” she repeated, saying each word slowly and carefully.

  “Oh, and for the record…whichever one of you is responsible for the internet story about my being involved in a stripper club…when the resort attorney gets finished with you, I’ll send my attorney to discuss defamation of character with you. I’m hoping some bright young intern on your web site will make it conveniently vanish before we finish here.” She watched her words ripple through the various reporters, several mouthing something into private microphones. She saw most of the camera people actually chuckling as they continued to record.

  Her head tipped slightly to the side and she heard the question she hadn’t addressed about the review.

  “Ahh…why am I in the review? And why am I working at the resort,” she inhaled slowly. “This is going to finish the questions about the review,” she looked around, daring anyone to contradict her. “Why am I dancing in this review? The lead singer fell and couldn’t perform. I love dancing. And I love singing. I also happen to be pretty darn good at both of them. Have I ever done it professionally? No…to be honest, being in front of that many people makes my stomach hurt and I usually don’t eat all day, but…the resort people…my friends…needed my help and I was able to provide it. It really is that simple.” She heard another follow-up question and frowned.

  “Was I disowned by my family and that’s why I’m working for a living,” Charity dropped her head for a quiet minute. “I work for a living because I enjoy it. Period. If you are half the journalists that you pretend to be…you’ll know about the assault that happened here yesterday morning,” she waited while the words rippled through the collection of reporters. “I was leaving my apartment,” she pointed to the fourth floor. “And someone…for a reason as yet unknown…beaned me with a large rock…now I have my own personal…” She heard the whispered word next to her and actually pulled her lower lip between her teeth.

  “Fireflies,” Nico whispered behind cover of his cup.

  “Hmm…well…anyway…I was struck on the head with a large rock. Resort and local police are investigating…I have twenty-five stitches, I think…and no memory,” she stopped, letting those words sink into the people watching her.

  “That’s convenient,” came a couple sarcastic claims from the crowd.

  “Actually it’s most inconvenient. I didn’t know my name until I looked at my badge. I had a killer headache most of the day and night. On top of that, I had people depending on me to perform last night. I didn’t know where I lived…but I could remember the dance routine, isn’t that funny how amnesia works? So when you ask why am I working at the resort…I can only say because I enjoy it. I love the premise and will do anything in my power to help it flourish. It’s a wonderful place to work with caring, compassionate people. I can tell you superficial things about me…I remember going to school in France and England…very mean spirited matrons with a severe lack of humor,” she said with a sullen frown, soft laughter from the crowd.

  “I remember living in San Francisco…I remember my mother,” she said softly. “I remember my grand-parents and…and the day I learned they had died. You kind of wish the idiot amnesia would give you a check list of things you wanted to remember and stuff you never wanted in your head again, but it doesn’t work that way.”

  Georgette smiled to herself. Charity had them eating out of her hand.

  “So when I say I honestly don’t remember…I don’t…I don’t know why I left San Francisco. I haven’t been in touch with my family since this happened yesterday morning, so I just don’t know. I’m sure now that they know where I am, I’ll hear from them if there’s something they need from me…and maybe I’ll get lucky and it’ll trigger memories. Again…I just don’t know. Weird things pop into your head, like I really dislike onions on my hamburger…which…” she stood up slowly, stretching. “I hope that answered all your questions. I’m starving and in need of food. Please leave the property carefully and have a wonderful day,” she smiled, the few tossing out questions easily turned in the large group that began to disburse toward their vehicles.

  “I think you gave them information overdose,” Georgette chuckled as she descended slowly. “They’re not used to people voluntarily holding a conference with them. Thanks….”

  “Hey…it’s my fault…” Charity shrugged, and shivered. “I think my butt is frozen,” she mumbled, glancing at the choking from the side. She watched him stand up, carefully tugging the stool back into his unit. “I need breakfast…anything I can do to help, Georgette, just let me know.”

  “Yeah…you can submit an application and resume for my position,” she told her firmly. “I’ve got two weeks left…my husband is being transferred to Germany, and we’re leaving. It was a little bit of a surprise…but…” she shrugged. “You’d be perfect for it, Charity, seriously. Think about it, huh? I’m off to see how things are going. Take care…”

  “Thanks…I will…think about it, I mean…” Charity watched her go, dropping down another step, her hands pulling gloves from her pockets.

  “Almost let those fireflies loose,” came the deep comment from the side.

  “Yeah…thanks for being my conscience…would ruin the whole deal if they think I’m loopy from the rock thing,” she said easily. “Want to share breakfast with me? I’ll run get my wallet…”

  “I can handle the cost, Charity,” he reached for her palm and walked toward the elevator, taking it down into the resort employee under ground and moving to the moving walkway.

  “The fascination people have with the lives of others never ceases to amaze me,” she said half way through breakfast.

  “If you can think about the problems and drama other people have, you don’t have to deal with your own,” Nico suggested with a half shrug. “It’s always been that way and always will. There will always be people who cater to the need for that kind of story.”

  Charity wasn’t sure where their day went.

  She was seated before the very lighted make-up mirror at seven, blinking when ordered to and staring at the woman Jamie created for the stage show. She endured the laughter from Nico when she strongly suggested he go home and rest and not be in the audience out front. She had a funny feeling he ignored her.

  Nico decided it was a good thing Charity couldn’t see the audience. He perched comfortably on a bar stool with a good view, noticing the increased amount of people in the lounge tonight. He had a feeling there would be a good many photos taken tonight. By the time the review began, it was standing room only and the next five minutes he was captivated as she belted out a song with a very powerful voice and stage presence.

  “That is some woman,” said the man at his side, tipping up a glass of beer and draining it. “I bet every guy here wants an introduction to that.”

  “Then they’ll all be miserable,” Nico commented flatly, not liking the
guys reference to Charity as ‘that’. Yet he had made a purchase in the restroom that he never thought of making before. On the stage, she blasted out sex appeal with each move, each step that she took, the tightly cinched outfit accenting every feminine curve to perfection.

  The second song was different than the night before, the music more sultry and the routine more like something out of a nineteen forties musical. And somehow, it fit her, he thought with a half smile, the jaunty nautical outfit and tip of her fingers off her forehead before the stage went dark making him laugh.

  Nico waited fifteen minutes before striding quietly toward the dressing rooms, the sight of a dozen men trying to get past the newly posted security detail.

  “Look, you guys aren’t getting in there so just go back to the lounge or go to the casino,” the large guard declared, glaring at the white card Nico held up. “Look, Doctor…”

  “No, he’s okay…let him through, Casey…please? He’s with me,” Charity peered at the men all shouting for her attention, her head shaking. “I can’t believe this…you think they’re all reporters?”

  “Guys with delusions?” Nico walked with her to the other entrance, easing into the admin section of the resort and breathing a sigh of relief. “Hungry?”

  “No…no…I think I’m tired…I want some peace and quiet. We wear this ear piece and block the other ear but the sound still gets through,” she said with a sigh. “But…I would love to sit with you while you had dinner. I don’t know what’s in my kitchen…I don’t know if I can cook…”

  “How’s your head? And it’s nice you shared with the press about a killer headache, but didn’t tell your physician,” Nico commented, guiding her to the moving walk and leaning against the rail as they were carried the distance to the employee dorms. He saw her wince and peek at him.

  “I blame the fireflies,” she said with an absent flip of her wrist. “Devious little trouble makers keep messing with my mouth…”

  Nico heard himself laugh again, realizing that it had been a long time since he’d just relaxed and started to enjoy life again. “I’ve got food at my place. I’ll even make you a smoothie…how’s that sound?” He suggested, stepping with her from the mover and walking to the elevator.

  “You didn’t tell me that walking tires you out so much,” she said softly, watching him look up from the ground. “So I guess we’re kind of even.”

  “I keep waiting for the energy to return,” he said after a quiet pause, his hand taking hers as they left the elevator and walked to the dorms. “And I keep reminding myself that it’s only been three years.”

  “Vitamins and herbs might help,” she watched his face. “You don’t take vitamins? You’d think you were the one beaned in the head with a rock. Don’t even make me lecture you about the lack of serious nutrients in the soil and therefore a definitive lack of necessary vitamins and minerals inside the foods we now grow in this country,” Charity stopped, her eyes wide and palm up over her mouth.

  “Fireflies took over again,” Nico teased, pushing the door to his unit open and tapping the light switch plate. “Damn, it’s getting colder out there,” he leaned against the closed door and took his coat off, hanging it on the hook to his left before going into the kitchen.

  “Well…I guess I know how to lecture, too,” she said finally, letting her coat slide down her arms and rest on one of the chairs. “I will get you the right vitamins to take.” She moved through the large unit, a few boxes still lying around but it looked much more lived in than the unit she had. She let her chin fall into a pair of raised palms when she leaned her elbows on the counter, watching him move around his kitchen.

  “I’d ask how you know this stuff but…”

  “I think the fireflies are getting tired of being blamed for my mouth. They’re planning a mutiny, so you better watch out,” she said, ignoring his laughter. She glanced around, her eyes landing on the computer. "Do you have music on the computer?”

  “Some…” He looked up from the strawberries he was mixing into the large glass blender. “Go ahead…find something quiet.”

  Charity found the international online station she liked, sending soft French violins through the speakers. “Nice café type music,” she declared at the same time his phone chimed and he frowned. “Not someone you’re used to hearing call?”

  “Not this time of night…” He held up a finger, opened the phone and perched on one of the high stools. “Mom? Is everything…you saw me? On the news…I…” Pale lashes closed. “Mom, I am not dating a stripper. Yes…yes, I was there when she gave the press conference, they didn’t really give her a choice since they swamped the parking lot outside the apartments. Unknown male companion? I suppose, yes, that is me…if they had asked, I would have introduced myself…” He knew he shouldn’t look. He’d already heard her gasp and then giggle. He opened his eyes to see her studying her manicure.

  “Mom…it’s a dance review…yes, like the movie…she does not remove her clothing,” Nico said firmly. “The news people have it all wrong, I promise you. I…yes, I suppose…I don’t know what we’re doing tomorrow,” he admitted with a sigh. “At the moment, I’m making a sandwich and a smoothie for Charity…yes, it’s her real name. No, she is not a professional dancer…she’s a waitress…yes, I realize that…but I’m pretty sure she’s not waitressing while looking for her big break into show business. She’s just helping some friends…How about I call you sometime next week? Yeah…I love you, too, mom…no, I’m okay. Yes, I’m sure. Next week…alright…goodnight.”

  “So…ummm…I just cannot find the words right now,” Charity said with a bright smile.

  “We’re probably safer that way,” he returned, slapping the lid on the blender and hitting puree a little harder than needed.

  “Your mother…”

  “Picks out the words that strike a chord and focuses on them,” he said quietly, watching her move back to the counter, both hands wrapped around the tall glass of pink ice and liquid he poured for her.

  “I’m sorry, Nico. I don’t think this kind of grief is what you expected,” she peered over the glass, licking her lips after a long swallow. “Thank you…this is good. You don’t always get involved with your patients, I hope.”

  “Not a big enough apartment,” he returned with a wink, adding extra cheese to his sandwich. “Or enough energy.”

  “Those are good answers,” she said with a little nod, not taking her eyes from him. “You make a girl a smoothie and she kind of thinks you’re interested in her.”

  “Huh…the smoothie says that? Not the fact that he’s spent the last twenty-four hours with her almost non-stop?” Nico chuckled when she considered his words.

  “It’s been that long already…it’s funny…I have an empty head and we manage to find all kinds of things to talk about,” she commented, taking another long swallow.

  “I did notice that,” Nico said, biting hungrily into his sandwich. “You’re staring, Charity. What’s wrong?”

  “Are you asking as my doctor or my friend?” Came the suspicious reply.

  “Asking me to stop being a doctor…it’s been a part of me for too long, so I guess I’m asking as a friend with doctor undertones,” he laughed at the scowl that deepened.

  “My head itches,” she complained with a sigh. “And I want to rip at it with my nails, but I have a feeling that would get me into a whole lot of trouble with the undertones part of you,” she watched him set the sandwich down and wipe his hands on a towel. She noticed how he walked for the first time, realizing it was his left leg that must have taken the damage.

  Nico put his palm beneath her chin, only a little distrust in her eyes when he tipped her head to the side, fingers gently moving the gypsy cut red hair around until he had a clear view. He sighed and smoothed the silken hair back into place before hobbling to his stool and picking up his sandwich.

  “You can shower and shampoo, Charity, but you have to make sure it’s dry when you’re finished,” he de
clared, unprepared for the excited squeal, a pair of warm arms thrown around his neck from behind or the soft kiss on his cheek.

  “You’re wonderful! I’ll be back! I promise!” She told him, grabbing her coat and disappearing out the door before he could respond.

  Chapter Six

  Nico moved to his computer, sandwich on the napkin as he began searching and reading. At the end of thirty minutes, his only answer to the amnesia thing was patience and crossed fingers.

  She was healing fine and other than the rambling, which was beginning to appear very normal for Charity Colton, she seemed alright with the whole thing. If it bothered her, he hadn’t seen a sign of crying or anger or fear. He heard the knock on his door twenty minutes into reading through various web news sites about the missing Amelia Charity Colton St. James.

  He was standing when the door was pushed open, a bright smiling face appearing. He frowned. Deeply. “How did you get inside?”

  “Condensation and cellophane,” she answered with a casual shrug. Charity was letting her jacket slide down her arms when one finger rose, a small frown puckering her lips. “Alright…I really don’t know where that came from. I probably should let security know about the flaw should anyone else know that trick.”

  “Huh…” Nico closed down his computer and moved to the sofa, sinking at her side.

  She pulled one knee beneath her and sat cross legged, fingers massaging the almost dry gypsy cut. She smelled good. She smelled like all things girl rolled into one.

  Were humans so very different than animals who could recognize their mates from their scent? He felt the sweetly appealing scent weave its way into his mind and body with a heavy crash against his male senses.

  Charity wasn’t sure how it had become so very warm suddenly. His eyes were much paler than her own, a lighter blue that almost seemed invisible at times behind his glasses. She moved closer, their hips touching and her palm up to move gently over his face. Neither of them spoke as she leaned up, moving to sit on his lap, breathing softly against his mouth.