“No, I’m sorry,” she said. Now he’d agree with her, reminding her how she’d jumped to conclusions and accused him of things he hadn’t done.
“I acted like a jerk. I shouldn’t have unloaded all of that on you.”
For a moment, Charlie didn’t know what to say. She didn’t remember any unloading, just her own tears of frustration and angry words. The oven beeped and she grabbed a pot holder from the hook. The biscuits were perfectly browned and she set the pan on the stove top, turning off the oven.
Slowing turning to face him, she felt as if she were standing on a cliff’s edge. It was silly. They weren’t pledging their undying love. She was simply going to ask him if they could try to start over. But opening herself up, even in that most inconsequential way, made her stomach drop. Trusting anyone, ever again, seemed to be a monumental act of courage.
He spoke first. “Listen, I know everyone has been preaching at you that I’m some kind of perfect person, but I’m really not. Just… really, really not.” He let out a grunt of frustration. “They’ve got blinders on, all of them. They see me as the little brother, the guy next door. But I’m just doing the best I can, like everybody else.”
“So, you’re telling me you’re not perfect?”
“No, pas de betise.” He raised one hand in the air like a boy scout. No joke. It was odd hearing Creole coming out of his mouth. Charlie had forgotten Austin wasn’t a stranger to Cane River.
“Well, that’s a disappointment. I was about to send my respects to Mama Becket for raising up such a genius.”
“Don’t forget Daddy Becket for raising up such a morally upstanding citizen.”
“If you’re not perfect, don’t tell Father Tom. Your brother thinks you’re practically canonized. You won’t even have to die before they make you a saint.”
Austin hung his head for a moment. “You can’t imagine what it’s like when everybody thinks you’re infallible.”
She almost rolled her eyes but then thought of how it felt when the whole world thought she was guilty. As many times as she tried to defend herself, the trolls shouted her down, silencing every avenue. Soon, every friend went quiet, afraid to be a target. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as what had happened to Charlie, but she could see how living under those impossible kinds of expectations could drive a person batty. Or, at least, drive them to rant at a total stranger about their job.
She wasn’t sure what prompted her but she held out her hand before she thought it through. “Friends?”
He took it. “We’re led little by little to the truth.”
Her mouth dropped open a bit. “Did you just quote Journey to the Center of the Earth?”
“Science, my lad, is made up of mistakes, but they are mistakes which it is useful to make, because they lead―”
“Little by little to the truth.” Charlie let her hand fall from his. Jules Verne had written so much wisdom into his books that Charlie read them over every few years, and each time she gleaned something new to carry with her back into the world. “I’d better take the biscuits off the pan,” she said and turned back to the stove.
“I’ll get those bowls to the table.” Somewhere behind her she could hear him taking the potholder off the hook and then after a few moments his footsteps faded down the hallway.
Charlie paused over the biscuit pan, spatula in her hand. She was lonely. She already knew that. And Austin was blessed with an easy manner and good looks. It was completely natural to feel some connection to him.
That was what she told herself, repeating the words until she believed them, until she forgot how she’d felt a familiar mix of emotion expanding in her chest. Affection, yearning, the need for someone to call her own. Picking up the spatula, Charlie flipped the biscuits into the little basket as quickly as possible. It was simply human nature to seek it. Nothing more, nothing less.
Chapter Eight
Oft a little morning rain
Foretells a pleasant day.—Charlotte Bronte
“I just don’t understand what’s going on over at your old house,” Alice said as she walked the space in front of the desk. By the Book had been busy that morning but by the afternoon it was just the three of them.
Charlie didn’t look up from The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. The book was like ice cream. Familiar, comforting, and something she dug into when she was depressed. “Oh?” she asked, trying not to sound too interested.
“Paul said the new owners finally called the FBI to see if they can get all that nonsense stopped.” She rocked Aurora from side to side as the baby fussed.
Her heart dropped. The FBI would make short work of the cyber-bullies. They’d also trace the entire thing back to Charlie. “Are they sure it’s not just some pranksters?”
“I don’t think it’s just a prank now. Apparently they raffled off the house for five dollars a ticket. Made tons of money, even picked a winner. She showed up yesterday to claim her five dollar house.”
Charlie looked up from her book but didn’t know what to say. The pranks had turned into mail fraud with thousands of innocent victims and she didn’t even live there anymore. The bullies must know that. Maybe they were hoping she was still feeling the pain of their attacks second hand. If so, they succeeded. “That’s terrible,” she said.
“I hope Aurora’s not coming down with anything,” Alice said after a particularly loud whimper from the baby. “I was really looking forward to going out to Henry and Gideon’s place for the low country boil tomorrow.”
Little Aurora turned four months old the day before and had celebrated the occasion by fussing most of her waking hours. “I can always watch her for you two.” Dinner at Bix and Ruby’s had been bearable, even fun at times but only because she’d made peace with Austin, and then they’d both done their best to stay out of each other’s way. She had no desire to go to the backyard cook out, no matter how empty her fridge was. She was pretty sure who else would be there and most were people she was trying to avoid.
“Oh, I’d never ask you to miss it. You’re young and you need to get out more than I do.”
Charlie shot her a look. “You’re not that much older than I am. Plus, you and Paul need to get out, too.” She watched them walk the floor for a moment. “Isn’t she a little better today?”
Alice turned the little girl around so she was facing outward, straightening her little shirt. It was white and read “Irony: The Opposite Of Wrinkly” in bright blue letters. The baby’s lower lip stuck out and her eyes filled with tears. “Maybe she’s bored. Maybe she’s tired of being with me all the time. Maybe she doesn’t want to spend all her time in a bookstore,” Alice said, her voice hushed with worry.
“Impossible.” Charlie flipped her book closed and came around the desk. “She needs you as much as she needs air. Let me hold her for a while. We’ll walk over by the window and see if we can see Mrs. Bennet. When she yowls at Miss Elizabeth, Aurora always laughs.”
“I don’t want you to feel like you have to do baby care,” Alice said. Her usual calm demeanor was edged with uncertainty.
“Nonsense. You know I love holding her.” Charlie reached out and plucked the baby from Alice’s hands.
“If you really want―”
“Yes, I do. Now why don’t you make yourself some coffee and browse that new antique book seller’s site you found. I bet there’s some Elizabeth Barrett Browning or Edna St. Vincent Millay or someone you need.”
“Hm.” Alice’s eyes went a little unfocused and she started to smile. “I was hoping they had this little volume of Christina Rossetti poetry I saw in New York City. I walked away and regretted it ever since.”
“Lost hopes that leave our hearts upon the rack,” Charlie quoted.
“Hopes that were never ours but seem’d to be,” Alice responded. Worry passed over her face again. “Charlie, you know you can always talk to me about anything―”
“No, no, it’s nothing. I just remembered that one line. I can’t hang around you for years without picking u
p a few bits and pieces.” She gave a bright smile and headed for the front of the store. Inhaling the familiar smell of old books and Aurora’s strawberry scent, Charlie tried to push down her emotions, back into a place where she was happy being in Natchitoches when all her college friends were headed back to school.
As she paced by the front window, one hand cradling little Aurora against her shoulder and the other rubbing her back, Charlie tried to keep her mind from what she was missing. She’d loved her classes. The digital illustration was her favorite, but the programming was where she’d spent most of her energy. There had always been more to learn, more ways to create software. People thought they were such different applications but they were both art to Charlie. A really beautiful program could go anywhere, do anything. Her stomach twisted, remembering how eager she’d been to show off her coding skills. She’d paid for her pride. She and Paul and all the engineers at ScreenStop. Even Alice and the tiny baby she was holding had suffered for Charlie’s desire to show off for her online friends.
She blinked, shaking off the guilt. There was nothing she could do about it now. Five years of projects had been lost, along with millions of dollars. She never could have imagined the program would be used that way, but it was. All she could do now was hope that nobody ever connected that piece of code to her. Taking a breath, she focused on something simple, like Rossetti. That poem, what was it called? Later Life, that was it. A few years ago, Alice had gone through a Rossetti phase and would read her poems aloud to Charlie as they waited for customers. Charlie would have preferred to organize the fantasy section― again― but it seemed to make Alice happy when she listened to her read. And some of the lines had stayed with Charlie, even now.
The early fall afternoon was warmer than the last few days and the weekend tourists were out in force. The long riverwalk was dotted with happy couples, arm in arm, sacks of purchases dangling from their fingers. Charlie looked into their faces and wondered how it felt to be loved like that. Not in secret, not with empty promises that turned to acid on the tongue. To love and to remember; that is good. To love and to forget; that is not well. To lapse from love to hatred; that is hell.
Aurora let out a soft cry and Charlie shifted her to the other shoulder. Maybe she was teething. She wasn’t sure when that happened, but she’d heard parents talk about it. As far as she could tell, it was miserable for everybody involved. Alice seemed like she was having some sort of crisis of confidence. She was a great mother but seemed to be second-guessing every move she made.
Charlie started another circuit of the front room, the sunlight gleaming against the floor. Charlie concentrated, trying to recall anything left from the poem. It was a prayer, really. Shame is a shadow cast by sin, yet shame itself may be a glory and a grace… an actual cautery thrust into the heart. At the time, Charlie had shaken her head at the idea of shame cauterizing a wounded heart. Now she knew what Rossetti had meant.
Aurora let out a little sigh but Charlie was afraid to check to see if her eyes were closing. She kept walking, listening to the quiet sound of the cars passing by outside and the occasional conversation from the pedestrians. It had taken her a long time but she saw how blessed she was to be here, in this place where people loved her. Even if she was afraid to look even a week ahead, even if she felt closed off from all her friends. She had survived and she was not the same naïve girl that had given her heart and her work away so thoughtlessly.
The front door bell tinkled and Charlie looked up to see the one person she’d been avoiding for months. Back when they’d first met, she had been nearly speechless in front of Paul Olivier. Handsome, Creole, and the consummate gaming geek, he was practically perfect. Add in his tech skills and the fact he’d built one of the biggest programming companies in the world, and Charlie felt like she was in the presence of greatness. As they’d gotten to know each other, she’d realized Paul was just like the rest of the world, filled with worries and hopes, and she’d counted him as one of her closest friends. Until she’d cut his company’s worth in half. Now she lived in fear that he would figure out she was involved.
He gave her a big smile and came close, whispering, “How’s the little fussbudget? Driving my dear wife to distraction?”
“You know Alice, she takes it all in stride.” Charlie glanced back at the desk. Alice had her head in her hands, looking for all the world as if she had been run ragged by Aurora’s crying. “Or not.”
“You want to hand her over? You can go have lunch or whatever you need to do.” He stepped closer.
“No, I think she just went to sleep. But I bet Alice would love to get out of the shop for a bit.”
He watched his wife for a moment. “It’s been hard on her, all the time I’ve spent away. Even moving the headquarters here has me working really long hours.” Guilt edged his words. “I never wanted her to feel alone in this.”
“She hasn’t said anything to me, but I don’t think she feels that way. It’s just a little overwhelming when you can’t figure out what’s wrong.” Charlie shifted the baby carefully until she was curled in the crook of her arm. They both looked down at her tiny features, long lashes resting against her cheeks, little mouth relaxed in sleep.
“Thank you,” Paul said, reaching out and touching Charlie’s shoulder. “She couldn’t run this store without you.”
“I love it here,” Charlie said, and meant it.
He dropped his hand. “But she told me you’re not going back to school this term. This is your last year. Taking a break now might mean you never go back.”
She froze, unsure of where to look or what to say.
“Were you having trouble? You know you can always come to me for help with your homework.”
Charlie nodded. She never wanted to be one of those people that name-dropped all their famous friends. Nobody liked that kind of person. Even worse was working with someone who thought they knew everything because they had smart and powerful friends. “Everything was… going okay.” Until it had gone all wrong.
He seemed to want to say something but instead he put his hands in his pockets and stared at the floor.
“I liked my classes,” she said, wincing inside at the lame comment.
“Did you? I know there aren’t a lot of women in programming and especially in gaming. Even the nicest professors have some built-in biases. It can wear you down, especially if you’re trying to forge a new path.”
Charlie hadn’t been trying to trail blaze. She’d been playing it safe, really. As much good as it did her.
Paul looked past her to the riverwalk and the people outside. “I grew up on the other side of the river, with just my mom in a little shack that probably should have been torn down. I know it was easier for me than it is for you once I hit college and could blend in, but I really struggled in high school. A lot of people just assumed I wouldn’t make anything of myself. There were very few people on my side, hardly anybody who actively worked to help me get out of Natchitoches. My guidance counselor gave me applications to the local hardware stores.”
Charlie remembered him saying something about growing up poor. She could see it in his eyes. Once a fighter, always a fighter. You don’t ever let go of the stubbornness that gets you to success.
“I’ve got some openings at the new headquarters. I know you’re not finished with school, but if you’re serious about taking a semester off, we could use someone like you. We’ve got lots of projects in the beginning stages.” He didn’t have to explain why there were so many just starting and not many in the final stages. A Trojan horse virus had stolen everything of value six months ago. “You’re one of the best new programmers I know. You could work remotely, or come in to the office, either way. And you’d make a good salary.”
Charlie couldn’t believe it. Her whole life she’d dreamed of working at ScreenStop as a developer. She loved everything about the company and its products. It was her fantasy job. And to be offered a position before she even graduated was beyond anyth
ing she could have imagined. She was desperate to accept. It would solve so many problems, including the fact she was a week late on her rent. Then she thought of how Paul would look at her when he found out what she’d done. “Thank you, but I couldn’t. Real programmers with real computer science degrees want those jobs. It wouldn’t be fair.”
“Who cares about fair?” Paul let out a laugh. “Andy and I built this company from the ground up. We hire who we want to hire. If you’re worried about being the only woman, we’ve been actively recruiting women for the past six months. We’ve hired forty female programmers, luring some away from established positions because we want to have a more balanced workplace.”
Charlie blinked. “Is that fair to the men?”
The smile faded from his face. “Interesting question. Do you think it’s unfair for them to have to work with women?”
“Well, no, it’s just that they worked hard to get where they are, too.”
“Yes, most of them have. And most of them excelled in an environment that assumes everybody wants to create a male-centric world of gaming. They’ve risen to the top in an area of science that is often openly misogynistic. The guys that apply sometimes mention in the interviews that they don’t think women quite get the gaming world, or the games.”
She sucked in a breath. You just don’t get it. You can’t. There’s no way to learn it. You either get it or you don’t. In a world where marketing was so important, she’d started to believe that she was good at being “bilingual”, understanding the male gamer needs and desires. She’d learned to produce projects that appealed to men, because that’s where the money was, they said.
“Do you believe that, Charlie? Because if you do, I feel like I’ve failed somewhere.”
She sighed. “You remember when I went to the ComiCon in Atlanta last year?”
“Sure do. You went as the Archer’s Apprentice, I think.”
“A guy in front of me on the subway was some sort of book agent. He said he didn’t even look at a submission if it the main character was a girl. He said they didn’t sell.”
Along the Cane River: Books 1-5 in the Inspirational Cane River Romance Series Page 73
