Misplaced Innocence

by Veronica Morneaux

  Bill seemed to perk up. “Sure thing. I hope everything is okay at home,” concern laced his voice. He picked up his paper and watched Charisma as she clambered into the old truck with the added weight of the bags and called for Scruffy. The engine stuttered to life and then Charisma was pulling out and driving back to the farm. Bill’s attention returned to the newspaper, where he hoped at least some parts of the world were still functioning normally.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The first time the phone rang Charisma almost felt her heart stop. It had taken a dramatic pause and then thundered back to life, extra loud, extra fast. Her breath started coming in short, insufficient gasps and, for a minute, she was afraid she would pass out. Her legs had felt like lead, but she had finally convinced them to move toward the phone and when she picked it up and said ‘hello?’ in a voice she knew didn’t sound like hers, she was surprised to hear a familiar, welcome voice on the other end of the line.

  “Well, there, Charisma, I thought I would take you up on your offer and give you a call. How did your emergency go?”

  “It went just fine, thanks.” A heavy sigh seeped out of Charisma and her heartbeat slowly returned to normal. He waited for her to expound, maybe say what the emergency had been so he could add it to his list of new information to chat about as his customers bought their groceries, but she didn’t. Finally he launched back into the gossip of the day, and by the time she hung up the phone she was laughing and feeling better about everything. She chuckled to herself as the receiver slipped back into place and opened the door for Scruffy to run outside one last time before bed.

  When the phone rang again she reached for it without hesitating. She was laughing by the time the phone was to her ear. “What did you forget to tell me?” she asked in between giggles.

  But there was nothing on the other end of the line. Just an empty stretch of silence and the sound of someone else breathing.

  “Hello?” she asked, “Bill?”

  And still there was nothing and for a terrifying minute Charisma couldn’t even hang up the phone, she just listened to the other person breathing, heavy and slow in her ear.

  And then she was standing in the middle of the kitchen, alone, her dog playing in the front yard and the phone looking as intimidating as a phone could look. She rushed to the door and called Scruffy in, panic rising in her voice when the dog didn’t immediately come bounding toward her. When she finally emerged from the dark, Charisma swept the oversized dog into her arms and dragged her into the house, leaning up against the door as she locked the locks, her fingers shaking.

  She clutched the dog to her with one hand, grabbed the phone off the cradle with the other. Jared’s number was posted next to Bill’s and she dialed it quickly, hoping she wouldn’t be interrupting, but not really caring if she did.

  He picked up on the third ring, sounding sleepy.

  “’Lo?” he said into the receiver, his voice heavy and husky and even through the panic stricken haze Charisma had begun to sink into, she was warmed by it.

  “This is Charisma Bradley. I don’t mean to bother you, but I think there’s something wrong with Scruffy and I was hoping it wouldn’t be too much to have you come out and take a look at her. Just to check. I’m worried.” She didn’t have to fake the worry in her voice or the urgency that trembled in her words, but Scruffy stared up at her with big brown eyes as Charisma talked on the phone, and she willed the dog to look sick. Or anemic. Or anything other than absolutely perfect, which was how she looked.

  There was a pause and a shuffle and Charisma could hear him start to move. “Not a problem. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

  “Great. That would be perfect,” and even though she wanted to ask him if it would be alright if they talked while he was on the way there, she didn’t, and her ear was suddenly filled only with dial tone and not with the comforting, sleepy voice.

  By the time Jared pulled up, Charisma had made her way through the house, closing doors and turning on lights until every light in the house was on and the only sound was the thud of her feet on the cold bare floors, Scruffy tapping along behind her, looking the picture of dog health. There was a heavy knock at the door, but Jared made no attempt to come inside. He waited patiently while Charisma undid the locks and opened the door, locking them again once he had stepped inside. The motion-sensitive light that hung outside the front door fizzled into darkness again.

  “Thanks for coming. I know it’s late. It’s just that I was so worried about Scruffy, I didn’t want to wait until morning.” Scruffy trotted up to Jared and began nuzzling his hand. “Although, she seems to be feeling much better now.”

  Jared absent-mindedly petted the dog while looking around the house. “I love what you’ve done with the place,” he said dryly, staring at the windows and their newly invented treatments.

  Charisma started pulling her hands through her hair. “Thanks. I read it was the new look for fall.”

  Had it been anyone else, he would have laughed at the joke. Only this time, he wasn’t actually sure she was joking. Her lips were pursed into a thin line and her brow was furrowed, and even though Scruffy seemed perfectly fine, it was apparent Charisma was worried. She started to wring her hands together. “What was she doing?”

  “Oh, you know,” she waved her hands in the air, as if maybe the movement would somehow distract him from the initial question. “She was sneezing. And rolling around on the floor. And she was moaning like she was in pain.”

  Jared’s eyebrow arched upwards. “I see. That is rather unusual.”

  “Well, I thought so, too. That’s why I made sure to call you right away. You know so much about dogs and you’re a vet, so I knew if anyone would know what that all meant it would be you. But then, right before you got here she just started acting normal again. Completely normal.” She opened her eyes as wide as possible, trying to look as honest and innocent as she could. It was a face she had practiced for hours on end and had mastered years ago. Before she’d left New Jersey, before…

  She shook her head, her hair fanning out around her face, which had suddenly become even paler than it usually was, and she started to run her hands through the strands again. “I hate that you had to come all the way out here.” She turned her big brown eyes back to him, hoping they looked as pitiful and needy as she felt, “I feel just awful. Let me make you something to eat, or some tea, or coffee.”

  Jared thought of telling her no, that it really wasn’t necessary, but she was already bustling through the kitchen, and it hadn’t really been a question in the first place. She put on a pot of water and started pulling teas and instant coffees out of the cupboard. “Make yourself at home. Feel free to watch television.”

  She perched on the edge of the sofa, turning her eyes back toward Jared while she waited for the water to boil and for Jared to accept her invitation. He settled back into the sofa and ran his hands over his eyes, trying to wipe away the tiredness that still hung in their depths and to make sense out of what was going on. Every time he saw Charisma, she just became stranger.

  When it became clear that she wasn’t going to say anything more, just sit there in the seat across from him, mauling her lower lip and staring intently at him, he flipped on the television and started running through the channels.

  He hadn’t settled on one channel for more than a few minutes, and even worse he couldn’t remember any of what he’d just seen, when Charisma brought him a cup of steaming tea and a cookie that had just recently come out of a wrapper. “It’s all I have,” she murmured as she shoved the cookie and tea in his direction.

  He grunted and took the mug and cookie. “Thanks.” The cookie was stale and crunched uncomfortably, but he swallowed hard and took another bite because she had resumed her hawk-like perch on the edge of the chair and was staring. Hard. And unashamedly. He finally tore his eyes away from hers, suddenly disturbed. If he all of a sudden heard the theme music for the Twilight Zone, he wouldn’t be surprised. In fact, nothing
normal had happened since he’d returned to Carlton. He took a swig of the tea, burning his tongue and wishing it was laced with a little something extra. Something that might ease the throb in his head and the unsettling feeling that had crept up on him. When he had finished the cup of tea he placed it down on the coffee table, the ceramic thumping against the wood and disturbing the heavy silence. He brushed his hands on his jeans and went to speak.

  “I know this is a lot to ask,” she said before he could say anything at all, “but I’m really worried about Scruffy and I just don’t know what I would do if she started … acting unwell again. Would it be possible … I mean, could you stay for just a while in case she isn’t really better? Maybe she’ll … I don’t know, relapse?”

  Any other person he would have told no. Especially since Scruffy was stretched out in the corner of the room, snoring like a small train, and seemed completely healthy. But then Charisma turned her big doe eyes on him and they were wide and concerned and honest and so he sighed – a deep sigh that seemed to cleanse himself of the disquiet that had settled around the pair as they sat in the living room. “Sure, not a problem.” A slow smile spread across his face, and she sat back in her chair for the first time since he’d walked in the door, and exhaled slowly.

  “Thank you so much. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.” She smiled, one of her rare, full-blown, beautiful smiles. Jared was surprised he hadn’t noticed she was so attractive before. What was more alarming was that he was suddenly finding her attractive. Just as suddenly staying with Charisma a little while longer stopped being a chore and morphed into something that could be enjoyable. There was a pause in the conversation, for the first time not heavy and dragging, but pleasant and airy. “I heard you’d been out of Carlton for a while. What made you come back?” She dropped her head back against the chair, her hair falling back and exposing the slender slope of throat that ended in collarbone and more pearly skin.

  He took a moment to regroup. “Oh, you know. You move out of town to get away from everything you hate and the moment anything goes wrong in your life you hurry back like a beaten dog.”

  She opened her eyes, lazily, like she’d been taking lessons from Scruffy, and stifled a yawn. Or, he amended, like she was tired. “I see.”

  “What about you?” he shook his head and tried to focus on what he was saying instead of how languid and serene she looked in the oversized chair. “I mean, I know you aren’t from Carlton, but what made you come here?” The unasked question trilled beneath his words: What could make anyone come to Carlton of their own free volition?

  The side of her mouth twitched up, almost breaking into a grin, “Oh you know, you move away to get away from everything you hate …” her voice trailed off. “I don’t plan on going back.”

  “Nothing there?”

  She did smile then, “Well, you know, it is New Jersey.”

  He chuckled. “I’ve never heard someone from New Jersey so fond of New Jersey jokes.”

  She shrugged. “Some of them are warranted. I make jokes about Carlton, too.”

  “Most of those are warranted, I think.”

  They continued to talk while Scruffy continued to sleep. When Charisma interrupted herself, again, with a big yawn, she checked her watch.

  “Goodness,” she breathed. “I didn’t realize how late it was.” She rubbed her eyes. “I’ve never needed sleep so much in my entire life.” She wasn’t sure she was exaggerating. She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept more than a few hours at a time, the last time she hadn’t woken up practically screaming and drenched in sweat and needing to turn on every light and check every cabinet. “It’s almost four. I’ll bring out the pillows and comforter for you.”

  Jared was about to object, but was also interrupted by a yawn. He had to stop doing this. Every time he came to this woman’s house he ended up sleeping on the sofa. And, if he remembered correctly, regretting the experience for the next few days, rubbing stiff muscles and taking pain killers. Of course, that also could have something to do with the pot, which thankfully hadn’t been an experience he’d been forced to revisit. He wondered, for just a moment, as Charismas returned to the sofa laden with linens, if her bed was more comfortable. He shook his head. He must really be needing sleep, too.

  He accepted the linens and set to fix his poor excuse for a bed, trying not to notice as Charisma slipped into the background and quiet and darkness started to stretch out across the house, outside early-morning dawn was starting to push back the night, all safely hidden from the sleeping house by the thick comforters and tattered sheets.

  ~*~

  When Charisma woke, sunlight peaked in from beneath the blankets on her windows and Scruffy was curled up at the foot of the bed, still looking perfectly healthy. She would never win an Oscar, but she had done well enough that Charisma hadn’t had to spend another night alone in a house that was suddenly too big and with a dog that didn’t seem to know how to be aggressive. She stretched and slid out of bed, the wood floor comforting on her bare feet. If she could wake up every morning feeling so comfortable and safe, she would be the happiest person in the world. But recently, this had become a luxury.

  Jared was still sleeping, sprawled out on the sofa bed, his jeans flung over the chair she’d been sitting in the night before. The white of the sheet seemed stark against his healthy tan. The comforter he had probably fallen asleep wrapped in was crumpled on the floor. Charisma busied herself in the kitchen, putting on water and trying to pull together breakfast, being as quiet as she could so Jared could continue to sleep. They could have gone to sleep earlier. In fact, Charisma was ready to hit the sack when Jared walked in the door, but somehow felt it would be inappropriate to say, ‘Thank God, you’re here. Take the couch, I need to catch some shut eye.’ If she was going to do that, the very least she could do was offer the man a lap dance, and frankly, she never wanted to do one of those again.

  The eggs were scrambled and the toast was toasting when Jared finally stirred on the couch.

  “Morning,” Charisma said from the hall. “Breakfast is almost ready. Help yourself to some tea, or juice.”

  Jared pushed back the sheet and tugged on his jeans, the worn cotton sliding over his thighs to settle comfortably on his hips. The heady smell of breakfast wafted in the air and made him realize how hungry he was. He smiled as Charisma reappeared from the hallway, dressed in an oversized button down splattered with old paint stains and jean cut-off shorts. “Morning,” he said.

  She smiled at him. “I thought you’d want some breakfast. I’m sorry I kept you up so late last night.”

  He stretched, the expanse of his muscles playing beneath his t-shirt. “Not a problem. I’m glad Scruffy seems to be doing well this morning.” He looked pointedly at the dog, already snuffling around the kitchen floor, looking for anything that might have been dropped and hoping for an act of God to randomly bestow some of the eggs upon her. She found neither, but never seemed to give up hope.

  “Me, too.” Charisma turned back to the kitchen, gently nudging Scruffy out of her way and pulling out plates and silverware. “Tea?” she asked as she poured herself a cup.

  The meager breakfast slipped by, the pair sitting at the table and exchanging few words. The silence was comfortable, an enjoyable way to start a fresh morning, but the longer they sat at the table, the faster Charisma’s heart beat. Before long the dishes would be empty and cleared and stacked neatly in the sink and she wouldn’t be able to prolong the inevitable: she would be alone again in the house with a phone that rang when she didn’t want it to and mail that she dreaded getting. She sighed as the silverware stilled and breakfast began to fade into a recent memory. The chairs were scraping against the floor and Charisma was taking a deep breath and preparing to say goodbye to what little security she’d managed to find when the phone rang.

  The room tilted at a strange angle and Charisma clutched at the table.

  Jared watched her lunge toward the table an
d sway dangerously, watched the color as it fled her face and was replaced by a shocking white, her eyes dark and shadowed against all the paleness. Her tongue darted out to touch colorless lips, her strained knuckles were the same white.

  She didn’t move. The phone continued to ring. Finally Jared cleared his throat. “Do you want me to get that?”

  “No. No.” The word was a harsh whisper. Charisma commanded herself to move, but she couldn’t. The phone continued to ring, like whoever was on the other end could spend all day waiting for someone to answer the phone.

  Jared continued to stare at Charisma, who, as far as he could tell, had hardly moved a muscle since she’d told him not to answer the phone.

  “Okay, yes,” she finally managed to say.

  Jared crossed the room and swept up the receiver. If he had to listen to the shrill ring one more time, he was pretty sure he would throw the phone across the room. But, like he’d already realized, every time he saw Charisma, she just became more strange. If he was going to keep going to her house and having breakfast with the woman, he was just going to have to come to terms with that and learn to expect strange things like sudden intense fears of inanimate objects. Everyone had their quirks.

  He picked the phone up mid-ring, the sharp sound died, but remained shivering in the air. “Hello?” Jared’s voice was deep and shockingly strong after the feeble ring of the phone.

  There was a crackle on the other end of the line and then a distorted voice, “Who’s this?”

  “This is Jared. Who’s this?”