Charlene,
I’m leaving town. You won’t see me again.
Clay
The words, short and clipped, still stung.
So why did she keep it?
It was the mystery, she supposed, the unanswered questions. Why had he left so suddenly, without even a goodbye?
Maybe she’d simply expected too much.
She sighed and turned the note over and over in her hand, examining the paper as she knew she’d done before. Only this time, she noticed something.
Nothing much. A tiny spot along the paper’s edge. Had it always been there? Or had she soiled the letter at some point? She’d certainly handled it enough.
She brought it closer to her eyes. The mark was a brownish rust color, reminding her of dried blood. From a paper cut, perhaps?
Like it matters.
Disgusted at her obsessiveness, she shoved the paper back in its envelope and banished it once more to the drawer.
The only other envelope in the drawer still remained sealed.
“My Dear Son” was written on the front.
Slowly, Charlene reached for it. Maybe she would never really be able to truly forget Clay and put him completely out of her mind until she’d done her duty and delivered this letter as promised. After all, she’d made the promise to a dying woman. A deathbed promise. That was serious.
She set the letter on her dresser as a reminder. She’d make one last effort to find Clay’s address and mail it. After that, she was done. Even though she’d promised to deliver the letter in person, she couldn’t do the impossible.
Completely awake and restless now, she doubted sleep would come anytime soon, so she stepped into slippers, wrapped herself in her fleece robe, and padded downstairs to the kitchen.
She grabbed a mug, then gathered milk, sugar, and cocoa to make hot chocolate. As if she hadn’t had enough chocolate tonight.
While she microwaved her drink, she pulled out a bag of mini marshmallows and a spoon. She removed the hot mug and was stirring rather crankily when she heard footsteps above.
Max’s head appeared around the wall at the top of the stairs, confounding her. He usually slept through anything.
“Hey, Char, why’re you up?” He scratched his scalp, his hair too short to make bedhead possible. He kept his hair practically shaved because heaven forbid a curl should appear on his macho head.
“Just having some hot chocolate.” She settled into a wooden chair at the table. “Want some?”
He gave a gaping yawn, and she expected a no, but he said, “Sure, why not?” So she began preparing another cup.
When they were both seated at the table, he asked, “So you do this a lot? Get up in the middle of the night to drink? Sounds like a dangerous habit to me.” He grinned, grabbed a handful of marshmallows, and dropped them in his mug.
She bounced her own marshmallows with the back of her spoon, dunking them and watching them melt in the hot liquid. “No. Hardly ever.”
“So why tonight?”
“I had a bad dream.”
“Oh.” The way he said it, drawn out and pumped with too much understanding, made her shake her head.
“No, not like that. Not an Abner dream.” She forced a smile. “I think I’ve got enough new stuff to worry about that it kind of cancels out the old nightmares.”
“So there’s a plus.” Max paused. “Or was this dream worse?”
She blew lightly on the surface of her drink, creating ripples against the marshmallows.
“No, not worse, I guess.” She wrapped her fingers around the mug. “Clay was in it.”
Another expressive “Oh.”
“What?”
Max cocked an eyebrow. “So Clay was in it. That good or bad?”
“Well, it was . . . neither. I mean, he was trying to help me, but—it was just a dream.” She shrugged.
Max swallowed a gulp of hot chocolate. “Uh-huh.”
She stiffened. “What do you mean, ‘uh-huh’?”
“Who else was in your dream?”
“A bunch of mummies, and Ben and his mom. Why?”
“Funny that you didn’t mention them.”
“Oh, please, you didn’t give me a chance.”
“You’d rather talk about Clay.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t get all psychoanalyst on me.”
“I’m not. It’s called mindreading.” He tapped his temple and smirked. “Magician, remember?”
She took a dainty sip and ignored him, glancing at the clock. I should be sleeping.
“You don’t have to pretend with me, Char. I’ve known for a long time that you had a crush on Clay.”
“What?!” She sputtered her drink. “I do not. And I did not!”
“And your face is red from the hot chocolate?”
“That’s right.” She grabbed a napkin. “Sure, I liked him. After he helped save my life, I’d better—but just as a friend.” She folded her arms and wrinkled her nose. “But then he had to go and be all ‘you can’t visit me in prison.’ It would have been nice if things could have been—different—after it was all over. But he didn’t give anything a chance.”
“You mean he didn’t give you a chance.”
“No, I mean anything. He didn’t stay around, just took off.”
“Aw, Char, don’t take it so personally. He went through a lot, and then his mom died. You can’t blame the guy for wanting a new start, just because it didn’t include you.”
“Obviously.” She huffed. “He can do what he wants. But why did he bother writing at all, if he was just going to make the letter so nasty?”
“Refresh my memory. What did it say again?”
She recited it word-for-word.
“You kept it, didn’t you?”
Dang, caught.
“So what if I did? It’s a reminder that he wasn’t a friend worth having, after all.”
“Didn’t sound like he was trying to be insulting.” Max shrugged. “How could he know you were going to be all sensitive over it? Wow, just like a girl.”
She crumpled her napkin.
Max leaned back in his chair. “Come back to California with me. We could do all the touristy stuff you like. Walk the Golden Gate, visit the beach.”
She released the napkin and her eyelids closed slightly. She imagined the sound of the waves, imagined watching their rhythmic ebb and flow. “Sounds nice.” She grimaced. “But I can’t do that. I’m not free to leave while I’m out on bond. Besides, I can’t leave Ben. He’s going to wake up any time. I need to be with him.”
“Right. Then what if while I’m here, we try to fit in a visit to Lake Michigan? We haven’t been there since we were kids. You used to love it there.”
She was touched that he remembered. “Yeah, I did . . .”
“So what do you say?”
“We should. I’d really like that.” Good, something to look forward to.
Max tossed a marshmallow at her forehead, and it bounced off. “But for what it’s worth, Char, I always thought Clay liked you too.”
“Whatever.” She downed the last of her hot chocolate, now cool, and banged it on the table. She scraped back her chair and stood. “I need to get some sleep. I have to be up in three hours for class.”
Max nodded and winked. “Sweet dreams.”
* * *
Sealed in the bathroom, the woman waited with her back turned, facing the shower but staring at the clock on her phone. The plastic stick lay on the countertop behind her.
The three minutes were up. She could turn any moment and learn her fate.
Don’t be a coward, her mind rebuked. Turn and look!
Shoulders set, she pivoted.
She didn’t even need to squint. She could see it clearly. The pink plus sign, made of two thin lines crossed in the middle, was vivid. Undeniable and inescapable.
Like the crosshairs of a gun.
Chapter Six
Charlene was late for class. Very unlike her, but Vivian
’s call had thrown her.
“I got the surveillance tapes from the library parking lot. If they show someone planting the drugs in your car—which I think is very likely—your case will have to be dismissed.”
Dismissed. A wonderful word.
“I think you’re the victim of a classic setup,” Vivian went on in her mile-a-minute manner. “Someone called to conveniently ‘tip off’ the police, which is the real reason they pulled you over when you left the library.”
After the heartening call, Charlene picked up her pace, weaving through students as she hurried down the hall. Rounding a corner sharply, she smacked into what felt like a solid, unyielding wall.
Looking up, she met a pair of very dark blue eyes. The “wall” was actually a tower of a man. His hair was cropped short, almost nonexistent. His face, somewhat attractive in an older, unrefined athletic way, made her picture him as a football player, plowing into players with no fear. His long-sleeved striped shirt and worn jeans fit him well, yet made it clear he wasn’t lacking muscle.
“Sorry,” they said at the same time, and as she stood there, momentarily forgetting her urgency to get to class, she realized he was handing over her bag, which must have dropped during their collision.
“Thanks,” she said, accepting the bag.
“No problem.”
They’d only exchanged a few words, and yet, as she snapped back to reality and hurried away, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something very non-ordinary about the guy. She didn’t think she’d seen him around campus before, which, even at this relatively small college, was no surprise. Maybe he was part time, like her.
After an hour-long lecture, her stomach pleaded for lunch. In the cafeteria, she chose a chicken salad sub, then stepped slowly around backpacks and made her way to a newly vacated table. She sat, then ran strawberry lip balm over her dry lips.
“Hey. This seat free?”
She pocketed the lip balm, looked up, and realized she was looking at the same linebacker guy she’d bumped into earlier. She nodded, then unwrapped her sandwich. He sat, and his eyes assessed her.
Uncomfortable, she pulled her bag closer and rifled through the contents, acting busy. Notebooks, textbooks, and, at the bottom, a thick paperback novel. Gone with the Wind. She’d begun the classic with determination years ago, then life got in the way and she only dipped into it now and again. She pulled it out and flipped through. The pages automatically fell open to a bookmark. No, not a bookmark, but a small snapshot picture of Clay.
She stared at it, almost stunned by the sudden appearance of the very person she kept shoving so hard from her mind. Her eyes couldn’t help lingering on his face, so young. Not carefree, but content enough. No scars from Abner yet. No idea prison loomed in his future. He sported a crooked grin and messy brown hair that could use a trim. The picture had been taken before he left for college, she remembered his mom saying.
Margaret had given the picture to her years ago, her favorite one of Clay, she had said. She wanted Charlene to have it as a reminder to pray for him.
Like she’d ever needed a reminder.
She’d prayed herself dry when it came to him.
She automatically took a bite of her sub, then touched the edge of the picture and wondered what it would feel like to throw it out.
“In case you don’t remember . . .”
Jolted by the voice, she looked up and recalled where she was and that she wasn’t sitting by herself. She slapped the book closed on Clay’s photo.
“. . . I’m the one who bumped into you earlier,” the linebacker clarified.
She nodded, her mouth full.
“Name’s Lance, by the way.”
Good, she liked no-last-name introductions. Meant she didn’t have to give hers. She swallowed. “Charlene.”
Lance rested his chin on his big fist. “Don’t stop reading ’cause of me.”
“I didn’t.” But she had. She felt a blush.
His lopsided grin showed uneven, though not ugly, teeth. “You got a boyfriend, Charlene?”
She blinked at his bluntness. “Yes,” she was quick to say. “Actually, I’m engaged.”
Lance whistled. “That serious, hey?” He glanced at her hand. “Engaged, but no ring?”
“Oh, I have a ring. I just—” she thought fast, wanting to avoid the whole messy story—“wasn’t able to wear it today. I wanted to,” she added hastily.
“You and this guy been together long?”
She nodded and took another bite, not feeling right about sharing personal details with a total stranger, even if he was trying to be nice. Nice, she knew, could come with ulterior motives.
She checked her phone. Her heart skipped when she saw a missed call and message from Ben’s mom. Maybe there was an update. And if so, was it good or bad? Her heart hammered.
“I gotta go, but nice meeting you,” she told Lance as she hurried to her feet.
He gave a nod. “Likewise. See you ’round, Charlene. Don’t forget your bag.” He nudged it her way.
Taking it, she wandered out of the cafeteria in a daze. She pressed the phone to her ear and waited for Mrs. Jorgensen’s voice. “Charlene, great news. Ben’s awake! Come as soon as you can.”
Ben’s awake!
She stashed her phone in her bag and took off running to the parking lot.
Thank you, Lord! As she drove, she prayed the good news would continue.
When she reached the door of Ben’s room, she barely even thought about her terrible previous visit. The Jorgensens looked too relieved at his consciousness to be harboring any grudges against her.
Ben’s face lit up the moment she stepped inside, and her throat caught on her words. All she managed was a choked up, “Ben.”
“Charlene!”
She hurried to his side and took his hand, very aware that he was still far from perfectly healed. “I’m so glad you’re awake.”
His hand squeezed hers but his gaze flicked to his family. “Hey, give us a few minutes, will you?” Obligingly, they filed out.
“Ben, I’m so sorry.” She brushed hair gently back from his forehead, avoiding the bandage but glad to see that the large one had been replaced by a smaller one. “So you remember what happened?”
“Not much, not the actual fall, but my family filled me in.”
Charlene hung her head. “It was all my fault.”
“If you didn’t want to marry me, you could have just said no.” He barely grinned before frowning at his tasteless joke. “Charlene, look at me.”
She did. It had been too long since she’d looked into his kind, loving gaze. She’d missed it, badly.
“You don’t have anything to apologize for. Don’t you dare blame yourself. I knew we shouldn’t have been that close to the edge, but I was trying to impress you. If anything, it was my fault, not yours.”
“No, it was an accident. Nothing more.”
They held gazes as she drank in the reality that they were here now, together and safe.
Ben’s eyes went to her mouth. “Can I get a kiss?”
“Of course.” She quickly leaned in to meet his lips, closing her eyes to savor the moment. Even after days in the hospital, somehow he still smelled like the outdoors.
When their lips parted, she sat back in her chair but kept holding his hand. “How are you feeling now?”
“After that kiss? Phenomenal.”
“Come on, Ben. What do the doctors say? When can you go home?” And when will you walk again? Please tell me you’ll walk again.
Ben’s brows furrowed. “I can’t feel my legs yet.” His voice lowered. “But it’s still early . . . too early. There’s so much swelling around my spinal cord, but as that goes down—and it can take weeks—there’s a good chance I could regain feeling and movement. I’m lucky the injury’s as low as it is. The higher on the spine, the worse the damage.”
She sensed he was reciting something he’d been told. She was sure neither of them really consid
ered the location of his injury “lucky.”
“To help my chances, I’ll be transferred to a rehab center before I can go home. Lots of therapy for sure.” He swallowed. “But I’ll be honest, Charlene. There are no guarantees. Everyone’s recovery from SCI is different.”
His voice cracked and his fingers bunched beneath her palm. “There’s a chance I might end up in a wheelchair for good. I—” He broke off his words to look away from her, at the wall. She heard him take a couple deep breaths like he was steeling himself, and her heart palpitated.
“What, Ben? Just say it.”
He flung his gaze back to her, a hardened look on his face that she’d never seen before. His lips were rigid as he forced his words through them. “I don’t want to lose you, Charlene, but—I can’t expect to hold you to a promise of a life with me when I could very well end up being a burden. When you said yes, it wasn’t to this.” He glanced down at his immobile, sheet-covered legs and grimaced.
“No, Ben.” She fought a tremble in her throat. “Don’t. I said yes, and I meant it. I want to marry you whether or not you ever walk again. But . . . you will, Ben, I know you will.” Tears slid down her cheeks. “Like you said, it’s just too soon. We can’t give up hope. You’re strong, and you’ll work so hard.”
“I will.” His hands squeezed hers. “I promise, I won’t let you down.”
She swiped at her tears. “I’m so happy you’re awake.”
“Me too.” He looked at her left hand. “I wish I’d caught that ring. It’s going to take a little while, but I’ll find a way to get another one made, just like it—”
“No, that’s not important. I don’t need a fancy ring. We’ll pick out a simple one, and I’ll be just as happy.”
His neck muscles flexed. “We’ll see. It would only be temporary, till I can get the other one. Once I start earning money again,” he added quietly.
“Your job,” she lamented, suddenly remembering. He hadn’t just lost his ability to walk, but his chance at becoming a fulltime firefighter anytime in the near future. “You worked so hard for that.”
“I don’t care about that right now. All that matters is I’m still around to have another chance with you.” He touched her chin. “Did I ever tell you how lucky I am that you came into my life? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And if it weren’t for you going to get help, I never would have made it. You’re my hero, Charlene.”
After the Thaw Page 6
