Once he was gone, she’d pull out the boxes she’d dragged from the attic and finish going through them. She’d already seen dozens of things that Mary had left behind. Old photos and dresses and even a diary.
One day Charlotte would be gone and another woman would find her things boxed up with no one to claim them.
How pitiful was that?
“Charlotte, since we’re not going on our picnic, I’d really like to get home,” Max said wearily.
She got in the car, closed the door, her movements wooden and stiff.
Just tell him you want to go on that picnic! her brain shouted, but her mouth stayed firmly shut all the way back to her empty little house.
He opened her car door. He even walked her to the porch.
But he didn’t tell her she was beautiful, he didn’t kiss her good night. When he said good-bye, it sounded like forever, and that should have been fine.
She peeked out the window as he drove away. Just like she’d known she would. When his car disappeared from sight, she dragged the largest of the boxes into the living room and knelt on the floor, lifting out one item after another and telling herself that the tears that were rolling down her cheeks were for the woman who’d left the box. Poor sweet Mary who’d died alone in a nursing home because she hadn’t had any family.
Yeah.
That was exactly why she was crying.
She swiped at her face.
She was a coward, and because of it, she was going to die a lonely old woman. If she were lucky, she’d find a nice young lady who’d be willing to visit her in her old age. She’d leave the house to her, and the whole darn cycle would repeat itself.
Or...
She could pull up her big-girl panties, go over to Max’s place, apologize for being an idiot, and ask him for another chance.
It should be that simple.
It could be that simple.
She just had to let it be.
What Max wanted to do was hit the local bar and drink a couple of beers. But even if he hadn’t had Zuzu and Emma waiting for him at home, he wouldn’t have done it. He never drank when he was pissed, sad, or lonely. Bad habits were easy to form and not so easy to break.
He wasn’t ready to return to the apartment though. Emma would wonder why he was home so soon, and he’d either have to explain or annoy her by refusing to.
He’d avoid both by staying out for a little while.
Not too long. If he wasn’t with Charlotte, he wanted to be home with Zuzu. She needed him a lot more than he’d thought, and he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he’d failed her in some vital way by leaving her with Emma.
He parked behind the sheriff’s department, grabbed his duffle from the back of the Corvette, and yanked his running clothes out. The building was quiet this time of evening. He walked in the back entrance, changed clothes in the locker room, and walked out without bumping into anyone.
Good thing.
He wasn’t in the mood for talking.
He ran two laps around Riley Pond, the soft lap of water against land oddly soothing. The full moon stood a hairsbreadth above distant mountains, dark clouds just beginning to edge out its golden glow. He could feel a hint of moisture, smell snow on the still evening air. A winter storm was moving in. The first one of the season. There’d be at least a dusting by morning. Zuzu would love that.
High on the hill overlooking the park, the nativity glowed in its lone spotlight. He had to grab the picnic stuff anyway, so he headed in that direction, running full speed across dry grass and into the copse of trees. He grabbed the basket and blankets, his breath heaving, his heart pounding. He’d worked off a lot of steam, cleared his head a little.
He trudged up the hill anyway, bypassing the old cemetery with its gleaming white headstones and wrought-iron fence and heading into the church’s front yard. Baby Jesus lay where he always was, Mary and Joseph smiling down on him, the angel perched in its place. He should go home and get Zuzu, bring her back to see the nativity again. She’d been begging to visit the baby and angel. He hadn’t found the time. He’d better. Soon enough, Morgan would return, and Zuzu would be back where she belonged. Max would be free. No kid to worry about. No woman taking up too much of his thoughts.
He should be thrilled, but he just felt hollow and empty.
The church door opened, and Jethro walked outside, a stack of books in his hands.
“Good evening, Max! Finished your picnic already?” he asked as he walked down the porch stairs.
“Who told you?” Max responded.
“Natalie. I believe that Gertrude told her, and it was probably Ida who let her know.”
“And by now the entire town is talking about it,” Max muttered.
“Something like that.” Jethro smiled. “Usually you don’t let the gossips bother you. What’s going on?”
“The picnic didn’t happen.”
“Hmmmm.”
“Hmmmm what?”
“You were worried about leaving Zuzu, weren’t you?”
“A little.” A lot actually. And he probably shouldn’t be lying to a man of God.
“And Charlotte was probably worried about trusting you with her heart.”
“I wasn’t asking for her heart. I was asking for a relaxing evening.”
“It’s probably the same thing to Charlotte.”
“Charlotte is an intelligent woman. I think she knows the difference between one date and forever.”
Jethro nodded but didn’t say anything. He just stared at the nativity as if it held all the secrets of the universe.
“She does, Jethro.”
“Do you?” the pastor finally said, looking straight into Max’s eyes.
Max laughed, the sound rusty and tight. “I think you’ve known me long enough to know that I’ve got no problem understanding the difference.”
“Then why are you telling yourself you only want one date with Charlotte?”
“I’m not.” He smoothed his hair, wiped sweat from his face.
“But you’re not telling her you want more, because you’re just as afraid as she is.”
True and true.
Not that he planned to admit it to Jethro. “Since when did you get a counseling degree, Jethro?” he asked lightly. He liked the guy. He wasn’t going to argue with him, but he wasn’t going to have deep philosophical discussions about relationships with him, either.
“I got it the same time I got my doctorate in theology. I mostly use it for solicited marriage counseling. But I’m always happy to throw it around when I decide to give unsolicited advice to friends.”
“Are you giving me advice?”
“Why not? In for a penny, in for a pound, right?” Jethro shifted his pile of books into one hand and pointed down the hill. Christmas lights sparkled from almost every visible house and business. “Did you know that after the first mayor of Apple Valley lost his wife, he decided to never celebrate Christmas again? That first year after Miriam died, there wasn’t one decoration in town.”
“And?.” He shifted impatiently, looking down the hill to the town he’d grown to love so much. It looked like a holiday greeting card, the scene old-fashioned and beautiful.
“Most people say Daniel was so heartbroken, that he was sure that he’d never feel joy again. Refusing to celebrate was his way of making that feeling a reality.”
“I’m sure you have another theory.”
“You’re right. I don’t think Daniel’s actions had anything to do with not wanting to feel joyful again. They were all about hope. Or lack thereof. Daniel didn’t have any left, and he didn’t want to have it. Not without his wife.”
“Got it,” Max said, still not sure where this was heading and a little too tired to try to figure it out. “If the history lesson is over—”
“It’s not about history, Max,” Jethro said seriously. “It’s about not repeating past mistakes. One of the things that I’ve found in my years of ministry is that there are often second chances in life. Third c
hances are harder to come by.”
“Meaning?”
“You’ve been plugging along, living your life, thinking that you don’t need anyone or anything to complete you. I think you’re finally learning that you’re wrong.” He glanced at the nativity, a smile hovering at the corner of his mouth. “It’s probably a strange realization to come to. Even a disconcerting one. It’s going to take you a little while to come to terms with it. Charlotte, though, she’s always known she needs more. For her, Apple Valley is a second chance to have the things that are really important. Don’t screw it up for her.”
The last surprised a real laugh out of Max, and all his tension seeped away. “Are pastors allowed to say screw?”
“I’ll check the manual later,” Jethro responded with a chuckle. “You heading home? I can give you a ride.”
“Thanks, but my car is parked at the station. Besides, a little more fresh air will do me good.”
“More likely, it will turn you into an ice pop. It’s cold out tonight. Looks like we’ve got snow heading our way. Natalie will hate that.”
“She doesn’t like the cold, huh?”
“She doesn’t like being stuck in the house while I plow out the long driveway.” Jethro smiled, but his eyes were tired.
“I can give you a hand if you want. It’ll make things go faster.”
“Nice of you to offer, Max, but you have other responsibilities. Speaking of which, we’d both better get going. See you Sunday?”
“I’ll try to drag myself out of bed.” Actually, he wouldn’t have any trouble doing that now that Zuzu was around. She woke at the crack of dawn.
“Try hard. We have a great Sunday school program. Zuzu will love it.”
“Zuzu loves—” His cell phone rang. “Excuse me for a second, Jethro?”
“Sure.”
He grabbed it from his vest pocket, glanced at the number. Emma. Probably desperate for him to return so she could go home. “Hello?”
“Max?!” Emma screamed into the phone, Zuzu wailing like a banshee in the background. “You need to come home. Now!”
In the years he’d known Emma, he’d never heard her even close to hysterical. Right then, in that one word, he heard enough panic to make his blood run cold.
“What’s wrong?”
“Zuzu fell down the stairs. I think her arm is broken, and she’s got this huge lump on her head. The ambulance is on the way.”
“What stairs?! How?!” He pivoted, ready to run back down the hill and across the park.
Jethro grabbed his arm. “I’ll drive you.”
He nodded, his heart in his throat.
“Zuzu was tired. She fell asleep early, and I did, too. We were in the living room with the light off, and I heard someone wiggling the doorknob. I opened the door and saw someone running down the stairs. I followed, and Zuzu . . .” Her voice broke. “Just get here, Max. Okay?”
She disconnected.
“Emma!” he yelled into the phone, as if that would do any good.
“It’s going to be okay, Max,” Jethro said as they ran around the side of the church and raced to the parsonage.
“I hope you’re right.”
“I know I am,” Jethro responded with so much confidence Max could almost believe that the pastor was somehow tied into something greater than himself, clued into the plans of a divine creator, that he had some in with God, and that he could arrange for Zuzu to be just fine.
Please, let her be okay. I’ll go to church every Sunday for the next forty years if she is, he silently bargained. He wasn’t sure it would do any good, but he was willing to try anything.
It took too long to get to Jethro’s old Jeep and it seemed to take even longer to get the beast of a vehicle started.
By the time the engine sputtered to life, Max was about ready to jump out and run back home.
“Hold on,” Jethro commanded.
“Wh—?”
The Jeep jumped forward, did a tight U-turn in the driveway, and sped down the hill toward town.
Chapter Eighteen
Something was wrong. Really, really wrong.
Charlotte turned onto Ida Cunningham’s long driveway, the sound of sirens drifting through the station wagon’s closed windows. In all the time she’d been in Apple Valley, she’d heard sirens just a few times. Once because there’d been a three-car pileup on the freeway. Once because a bunch of teens had accidentally set fire to an old barn at the edge of town. A few other times that she couldn’t recall the reason for.
Whatever was going on, it was close.
She glanced in her rearview mirror, surprised to see an ambulance racing up behind her. She couldn’t pull over without slamming into a bunch of trees, so she stepped on the gas, the station wagon shaking as she zipped forward.
Lights shone from every window in Ida’s house, and Charlotte’s first thought was for the older woman. Had she had a stroke? A heart attack?
No. There she was, wearing a long nightgown and bathrobe, waving the ambulance toward the garage.
Zuzu!
Oh, dear God! Charlotte hoped not.
She yanked the steering wheel to the left as the driveway widened, allowing the ambulance to pass. No sign of Max’s Corvette. He must have gone out after he’d dropped her off.
She jumped out of the car, leaving the keys in the ignition and the motor running.
“Charlotte! Thank goodness you’re here!” Ida rushed toward her. “Where’s Max?”
“I don’t know. He dropped me off and—”
“Well, hopefully he’s right behind you. We really need him here.”
“What’s going on?”
“Zuzu is hurt. She was following Emma down the stairs and tripped.”
Charlotte’s heart nearly stopped at the words. “Is it bad?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out.” Even in the midst of the crisis, Ida seemed calm. “Emma left her where she fell, afraid of injuring her further if she tried to carry her into the apartment. She’s standing up, screaming for her mother, Max, and you between shrieks. Hopefully she’ll calm down for you, and we can figure out where she’s hurt.”
Headlights illuminated the garage door and the bottom of the stairs that led to Max’s apartment. Emma stood on the bottom step, holding Daisy’s arm. Zuzu stood on the ground just below them, two EMTs crouched in front of her, trying to convince her that a cervical collar was a good idea. Zuzu was having nothing to do with it. Eyes shut tight, mouth open wide, she looked like she was about to start those horrible screams that one of Charlotte’s friends had once told her about. The ones that came from the deepest depths of a child’s terror or hurt.
Charlotte dropped down in front of her, ignoring an EMT’s warning to back off and let them do their jobs.
“Zuzu,” she said gently. “What’s wrong?”
Zuzu just kept screaming, a horrible swollen lump on her head seeming to pulse with every screech.
“Zuzu?” she tried again, touching Zuzu’s cheek. “Did you fall?”
Finally Zuzu opened her eyes and reached for Charlotte with her right arm, her left arm hanging loosely at her side.
“Charl-lott!” she wailed. “I falled right down the steps and hurted my arm.”
“It’s okay. These nice people are going to take you to the doctor.”
“I don’t want no doctor. I want Maxi!”
“Shhhhh.” Charlotte lifted her carefully, wincing as she got a closer look at the huge lump on Zuzu’s head. “Max will be here soon.”
“Ma’am,” the older of the two EMTs said, “we’d like to get this collar around her neck. Just to be on the safe side.”
“What do you think, Zuzu? You want to have a cool necklace on?”
“No,” Zuzu sobbed, dropping her head to Charlotte’s shoulder and shoving her thumb in her mouth.
The EMT moved in and eased the collar on anyway.
“There you are, little one. It’s fine, see?” he said gently.
Zu
zu didn’t respond. She’d closed her eyes, her body nearly limp against Charlotte’s.
Had she passed out?
Was she breathing?
“I’m going to take her into the ambulance and get her vitals. Don’t worry, Mom,” the EMT said as he took Zuzu from Charlotte’s arms. “She’s in good hands.”
“I’m not Mom,” she responded, but she felt like she could have been, fear knotted so tightly in her stomach she thought she might be sick.
They carried Zuzu into the ambulance, and Charlotte followed, hovering near the gurney as they checked Zuzu’s blood pressure, looked in her eyes, touched her head and her shoulder.
“Dislocated,” the younger of the two said.
“What’s dislocated?” Max climbed into the ambulance, his face ashen, his eyes dark with worry.
Charlotte was so glad he was there, so relieved, her knees nearly buckled.
“You the dad?” the older of the two EMTs asked.
Max hesitated, then nodded.
“Her shoulder is out of the socket. Looks like she might have caught her arm on something as she was falling. It probably kept her from breaking her neck. We’ll transport her to Sacred Heart. Which one of you wants to ride along?”
There was no question that it would be Max. Charlotte stepped back, dismissing herself before she was dismissed. “I’ll—”
“Meet us at the hospital? I could really use your help there, Charlotte,” Max said quietly. He looked worn-out, and Charlotte couldn’t have denied him any more than she could deny Zuzu.
She nodded. “I’ll follow the ambulance.”
She hurried to the station wagon and got behind the wheel.
“Hold on, Charlotte!” Ida called. “We’re coming, too.”
“In your pajamas?” Charlotte asked as Ida climbed into the passenger seat.
“I’d say I’m more covered than most young people these days,” Ida responded, cinching her bathrobe belt a little tighter. “Besides, this is an emergency. If the Apple Valley Times wants to snap a couple of pictures of me in my nightclothes and run a story about the town’s wild mayor, let them do it.”
“I think they’re going to have an even better story to run,” Emma said as she opened the back door and nudged Daisy in. “Local librarian turns to a life of crime. Has a cool ring to it. Don’t you think, Daisy?”
The Cottage on the Corner Page 25
