Reunion for the First Time

by K. M. Daughters

  After a few minutes, Charlie relaxed, and the spasms came farther apart, encouraging Jack. The dog slid out from under Jack’s arms, jumped down and skittered away.

  Jack hugged Charlie tighter. “Do you think Mari would be happy to see you make a cave out of her home and defile the life you made together? What about Butterfly Books? Do you think it will run itself forever? Are you just going to let it fold?”

  Releasing the embrace, Jack eased back on his heels. He gazed directly into Charlie’s bloodshot eyes, hoping he could capitalize on the fact that Charlie didn’t have enough energy to break the force field of his gaze.

  “I’ve tried to be patient, Charlie, tried to respect your enormous loss. But I lost my sister. I lost our parents when Mom took off and Dad became the way he is. I can’t lose my brother, too. I won’t lose my brother. Butterfly Books needs you. I need you. What will it take to bring you back? What can I do to help you?”

  Charlie stared at Jack with glazed blue eyes, shrugged and said nothing.

  Jack straightened. He had to move otherwise he would break something, like Charlie’s bones. Pacing back and forth, he kept his distance. Picking up an envelope on the coffee table, he debated his next maneuver.

  “What’s this?” Jack held it in under Charlie’s down-turned eyes.

  “I don’t know. Lizzie was all fired up about it. I didn’t pay attention.”

  “Pissing off everybody, aren’t you, Charlie?”

  Jack opened the manila envelope’s flap and spilled its contents onto the marble tabletop. “What the hell? I didn’t know you had Lizzie Moran taking pictures of my buildings.”

  Jack had heard about Elizabeth Moran, the celebrated photojournalist and former member of the Peace Corps. She had met Mari in Guatemala working on some engineering project. Charlie did a stint in the Peace Corps, too, and the three of them linked up there. Jack had never met Mari’s friend. Their schedules never meshed. Not meshing their schedules was on purpose. Mari, never subtle, wanted to play Cupid and he had no idea if Lizzie went along with it or even knew. Either way, Jack avoided anyone’s meddling in his social life, even his beloved Mari’s.

  “Lizzie never took any pictures for me. Are you ready to leave now? I’m really tired.” Charlie yawned widely.

  “Tired from what? All that effort from ignoring me?”

  Jack stalked toward Charlie and thrust a fistful of photos under his nose. “These are mine. My designs. What are you and Elizabeth Moran doing with them? Take a look.”

  “For God’s sake. If I look at them, will you leave?”

  “If you look at them, I won’t kill you.”

  Charlie stood and grabbed the prints out of Jack’s hand. He shuffled through them once and then again slower.

  Jack watched his brother’s subtle change, the dawn of professional interest, a glimmer of blessed animation in Charlie’s face.

  Thank you, God and Elizabeth.

  “These are very good.” Charlie handed the photos back to Jack with a jerk of his arm. “There, I looked at them.”

  Jack ignored the dismissal. He had Charlie talking and moving around. Excitement made his heart beat faster. “Good? They’re spectacular, the composition, the light, and night shots. She’s honored each design. Why did she bring them here?”

  “I guess she wanted me to do a coffee table book of these prints. Something about how she took these shots in her travels.” Charlie rocked from foot to foot in the sheepish, guilty dance Jack remembered from when they were caught mischief-making as kids.

  “I was pretty awful to her. She left in a huff.”

  “Gee, and I think you’re so darned charming.”

  “Yeah, well.” Charlie pulled on his hair and grimaced at the greasy smear on his fingers. “I think I could use a shower.”

  Afraid to say anything that might deflate the fragile balloon of hope that filled Jack, he nodded. He stood and watched his brother walk away.

  Charlie’s footsteps thudded up the stairs, and Jack’s eyes brimmed with tears. He walked down the hall, stopped at the foot of the stairs and drummed his fingers on the smooth grooves of the carved mahogany banister.

  “Hey, Chuck!” he hollered.

  “Yeah,” Chuck’s voice resonated with life—a voice that Jack hadn’t heard in a long time. He laid his head on the banister with relief.

  “I’m hungry. Are you up for Lou Malnati’s on Wells? I could eat a large deep-dish all by myself.” Jack held his breath.

  “I’m hungry, too…”

  Great. That’s a good sign.

  “Maybe order delivery. Give me ten minutes.”

  A flow of water echoed hollow through the pipes and Jack let out his breath with a whoosh.

  It was a start.

  As he turned away to go take another look at those pictures, the front door burst inward toward Jack. Jumping back before it clocked him, he lost his balance as the female that followed quickly through the door did clock him in a soft collision of breasts against his chest.

  “Ohmygosh, I’m so sorry.” Standing in front of him, a pretty blush spread on her lightly tanned cheeks.

  “No problem…miss?” He backed up to give her space, shoving the front door closed.

  “Lizzie Moran.” She held out a hand. “And you are?”

  “Jack Clark.” He shook her hand, just skimming her knuckles with his fingers, a pleasant connection. So this is the famous Lizzie, now he was sorry for not meshing.

  Beguiling smile, tender eyes, legs even better close up. On the skinny side, but appealing curves where it counts. Plus she obviously cares about Charlie and that means a great deal.

  “Oh. Jack finally.” She brushed her bangs out of her eyes. “Mari told me so much about you. Nice to meet you.”

  She bent her head and surveyed the floor.

  “Looking for your dog?” He turned toward the back of the house joining in the search.

  “Ah, yes. Marty. Marty!” she blasted.

  His ears vibrated. The dog tore from behind him toward Lizzie with jubilant owner worship yips. Lizzie scooped up the little dog and let her lick the side of her cheek unhindered. Made Jack want to be a Boston terrier.

  “Cute dog.” He couldn’t help but look at those legs.

  “Thanks. Where’s Charlie?” She nudged the dog away from her face.

  “Taking a shower.” Finally getting Charlie up and about brought a smile to his face.

  “No kidding?” Her deep green eyes widened to twice their size. “What did you do, club him and prop him up under the water?”

  Jack laughed. “No. But it crossed my mind.”

  She turned toward the open door. “I have to run. Tell Charlie I came back for Marty?”

  “Sure,” he agreed following her toward the door.

  “Nice to finally meet you, Jack. And, thank you for whatever you did to make the difference with Charlie. I’ve been knocking my head against the wall trying to get through to him.” She smiled and turned slowly toward the street.

  “Same here.” He stood and watched her walk the dog down the block. Mari, bless her heart, might have been on to something.

  Jack closed the door and headed to the den, Mari on his mind. She had hounded him to meet Elizabeth Moran because they had so much in common.

  He picked up the photos Lizzie had left behind. Color, black and white, even night shots from unique perspectives—her sheer artistry impressed Jack. Her looks impressed him, too, enough to arouse his curiosity about the woman Mari had so loved.

  But Mari wanted everyone to have true love, the kind that came with marriage licenses and browsing furniture showrooms. She had wanted that for him. Scared him senseless.

  Creaks and footfalls overhead, “Hey Jack!”

  Jack hurried back to the stairs and saw Charlie on the upper landing, a towel wrapped around his waist.

  God, he’s thin.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you, how did you do on that bid you were telling me about a while ago?” Charlie rubb
ed a towel over his wet hair.

  Stunned, that in his catatonic state, Charlie had apparently listened to him, Jack worked to keep the tone of his voice even, “Great. I got the contract to design the Freedom Center in Boston. Beat out the Prescott Group in its own backyard. It’s about time, too. That Prescott is an embarrassment to the industry. Are you going to publish the coffee table book, Charlie?” Jack prayed Lizzie’s photos had hooked Charlie, too.

  “The works of the illustrious architect JP Hamilton? I don’t know. I might.”

  Chapter Two

  The phone rang inside her condo, and Lizzie fumbled with her keys. She juggled the cumbersome portfolio on her shoulder and tried to maintain balance while Marty tugged on the leash.

  Lizzie had muttered disgruntled epithets about Charlie the whole way home. The dog could always pick up on her moods. As soon as Lizzie shoved the front door open, Marty yanked away and ran under the bed where she kept a stash of toys.

  Lizzie dropped everything on the carpet to the right of the door and nudged it shut with an elbow jab while she slid across the kitchen tile to nab the phone before it stopped ringing.

  “Hello?” She leaned against the kitchen counter breathing hard.

  “Hi, Lizzie. I thought I was on my way to your voicemail.” The familiar Boston accent, the sound of loving friendship.

  “Kay, hi. It’s so good to hear your voice. How are you feeling?”

  “I imagine the same way a beached whale must feel in ninety degree sand.”

  “Oh, you poor thing. Why doesn’t Mick just get someone to install central air in that old barn to make your pregnancy easier on you?”

  “Don’t get me started. Mick wants to do the renovations himself. He’s doing a beautiful job…wait ’til you see. But he’s gotten busy at work and hasn’t had the time to finish the house. I’m sitting here feeling sorry for myself.” She huffed out a sigh. “I wanted to talk to my best friend and invite you to my pity party.”

  “Perfect. I’ll win hands down.” Lizzie cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder, slid a Diet Coke out of the refrigerator, popped it open and took a long grateful swig.

  “Don’t be so sure,” challenged Kay. “I’ll win the pity prize today.”

  Ready to engage in the tradition that had started their freshman year as college roommates, Lizzie took first stab at the prize. “I’m so frustrated. I’m afraid I wasted an entire morning with Charlie. I was so sure he’d like my idea.” She gulped her drink.

  “What idea? How’s he doing? I think about him all the time. He’s got to be miserable.”

  “Yeah, he’s miserable all right. That’s why I was there this morning. I must be naïve, but I thought if I could get him excited about doing a book with me, he’d go back to work and stop being a hermit.”

  “Are you writing a book?”

  “No, no, nothing like that. I have some photos that I took for fun, enough to fill up a coffee table book. You know Charlie’s been hounding me to work together with him on a project for years.” Lizzie drained the soda can and paced between her kitchen and living room. “He was so passive aggressive. Wouldn’t even look at the photos. He virtually kicked me out of the house.”

  “What did he say?” Kay asked in a soft voice.

  “Almost nothing.” Lizzie sighed. “That’s the point. He’s such a thick Irishman. All he did was grunt no. I’m not proud of myself, but I lost my patience and left.”

  “Don’t worry, sweetie. He’ll come around.”

  “There are some encouraging signs that he might. I left Marty behind for a half hour or so while I walked off some of my frustration. When I went back to get her, his brother told me he was taking a shower. I’m afraid to get too hopeful but…”

  “You see?” Kay’s voice was hearty with optimism. “It’s a really good sign.”

  A comfortable silence between them, Lizzie let Kay’s assurances sink in and take hold. With the sun-shimmered Chicago River forty floors below, she stared out the windows only half-seeing the city in which her condo was suspended. Her disposition had improved, but helping Charlie was a bust. At least her earlier anger had faded.

  She smiled as if she could see the patient, sweet expression on Kay’s face that had always been there for her when she needed it. “I’m hogging all the pity. Your turn in the contest, Kay.”

  “Ooh, I can take my turn now? You’re going to owe me big time because I am one, pitiful person.”

  Lizzie laughed. “Go ahead. I’m sorry. You started this party. It should have been your turn first.”

  “Well. I’ve gained forty pounds and I’m only in my second trimester. My ankles are swollen. I look like Miss Piggy in high heels. What am I saying? The only shoes I can get on are Scholl’s exercise sandals. My picture alone defines the word cranky. No. Change that. The word’s crankiest. And. The doctor told me this morning that I’m carrying twins. Good Lord in heaven. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.”

  “Twins? Oh my God. Kay, that’s amazing. This is wonderful. What did the doctor say?”

  “He hovered a bit and didn’t like my blood pressure readings. I’ve got some instructions to follow. And for sure he wants to do a C-section when they’re big enough. No big deal. My doctor’s very good. I trust him.”

  “Promise you’ll follow those orders, okay? I can’t wait to hold them.”

  “I’ll be good. And I can’t wait to hold them, either. Because then they’ll be out of me.”

  Kay’s infectious, healthy laugh reassured her. If anyone could handle what might be a difficult pregnancy, Kay could.

  “I’m still in shock, I think…I haven’t even told Mick yet. I figured I’d plop some candles on the table and tell him over dinner.”

  “I know Mick. He’ll be over the moon.”

  “Do you think? Yeah, I think you’re right. It is amazing. But I still win.”

  “Okay. You win. What do you want for a treat?”

  “Fannie May chocolates. Any kind. Minimum, two pounds. You can bring them to Boston when you come to the reunion in a few weeks.”

  “Sneaky. You know you can’t drag me to that reunion. The only classmate I care to see from college is you. And thank God we don’t need reunions to do that. But I’ll gladly Fed Ex the chocolates now that you’re eating for three.”

  “Lizzie, please come. I didn’t know I’d be pregnant when I volunteered to run this thing. I’m always so tired, I’m afraid I won’t even be able to stay awake for the whole gala. I’ll probably keel over snoring into my potatoes duchesse. You’ve got to come. I need you, Liz.”

  “Are you going for two boxes of Fannie May? You already won the pity party. I can’t take the guilt trip.”

  “Lizzie, Wallace will be there.”

  Well, hell.

  Lizzie’s heart raced and her palms dampened at the prospect of seeing him. “Mother of God, Kay. There’s no way I’m going to this thing.”

  “He’s divorced again, honey. Maybe the reunion is a good opportunity for you to put this behind you. Don’t you want to know for sure?”

  Divorced again. A crazy hope flitted through Lizzie.

  Maybe he still loves me. Maybe his marriages have failed because of me.

  I can’t go there. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to see him again, Kay. Especially alone, and you know I’m not dating anyone. Pathetic, isn’t it?”

  “Well, how about I fix you up for that weekend? I can think of at least three of Mick’s friends who would make good prospects.”

  Lizzie snorted a laugh. “Now that’s appealing. The last time you fixed me up was such fun.”

  “Ouch. I guess I deserve that. But I have apologized many, many times and eaten every kind of crow imaginable, for fixing you up with Wallace in the first place. Look, Lizzie, I think you should face this thing. Either the two of you are meant to be together or you’re not. I hope not, because I haven’t forgiven him for leaving you without a word on graduation day, even if you have. You’ll neve
r move on if you don’t resolve this thing with him. Besides, I need your help. Please just come.”

  How could she deny Kay help? “I promise if I can find a date, I’ll come. And I’ll ship the Fannie May tomorrow anyway.”

  The call waiting tone sounded. “Oops, another call. I’ll talk to you soon. Love you, Kay.”

  “Love you, too. Ciao, Bella.”

  Lizzie fumbled with the buttons on the cell phone. Stupid thing. “Hello? Hello?”

  “Lizzie?”

  The raspy voice on the other end registered. “Charlie?”

  It can’t be. He hadn’t called her in six months. All communication with him had been one-way.

  “Yeah, it’s Charlie. Listen, Liz. I’m a real jerk. I’m sorry for the way I acted this morning and the past couple of months. You don’t deserve it. I know you’re trying to help me. I think your photos are great. Maybe we can work on a book together sometime soon.”

  “Wait a minute. Who are you and what have you done with Charlie Clark?”

  He chuckled. “Funny girl. I am sorry. For everything. I owe you, Liz. Forgive me?”

  “Forgiven. And I think there’s a way you can repay me for all the abuse you’ve shoveled out.”

  “Name it. Flowers every day, an endless supply of Starbucks. Nothing is too good for you.”

  “I just might take you up on all that.” She laughed, giddy that he had taken the initiative to dial the phone. “But if you’re feeling generous, how about coming to Boston with me to my ten-year college reunion?”

  “I’ve never gone to my own reunion. Have I been that big a problem that this is the only way to make it up to you?”

  She was tempted to tell him that he had scared her so much she had considered arranging an intervention with a mental health professional. Lizzie didn’t blame him for his recent behavior, but she didn’t feel guilty asking him to go to the reunion to “make it up to her”, either.

  “Kay needs me to go to this thing. And I need a date. Wallace will be there and you know enough of that sad story to understand why I can’t face him alone. Please, Charlie. I wouldn’t ask if I weren’t desperate.” Plus, this would get him out, and she could keep an eye on him. He needed to be in social situations. Her poor Charlie.