by Anne Conley
Les swallowed. That was as close as a declaration as he’d ever gotten from Charlie. “Sure. Of course.” He clasped her hand again as they continued walking back.
“So, what do you have going on this week?” she asked shyly.
“I’m finishing up the final touches on the remodel I’ve been working on. I’m hoping to have that finished by Friday, so I can do the ground-breaking on the safe house the next week. You?”
“They’re tearing down the old Hickerson house on Wells Creek road. They said I can have what I want.” She looked at him, an actual grin on her face. “The floors are shit, but it’s got these columns…” A low whistle emanated from her, but Les was focusing too intently on her pursed lips to notice much else.
“You really love these old houses, don’t you?”
She looked at the ground again, while they walked. “Yeah. Most people like me, who never really had a home growing up, don’t really get it. They live their lives in some sort of transient stasis, never really putting down roots or anything, because that’s how they were raised. I’ve always dreamed of having a permanent place to stay, a big old rambling house of my own.” She looked at him, a rare shyness coloring her features. “Now that I have that, I’m probably never going to leave.” A wry grin spread across her face.
Every time she told him another piece of her history, Les had the urge to pepper her with questions. But he managed to rein himself in. He knew she would tell him. Just the fact she’d told him this much said that.
When they got back to their trucks, Les walked Charlie back to hers. Without thinking, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
He hadn’t intended to. He’d only planned on being her friend today, letting her make the next move. But when he looked in her eyes, she’d seemed so fragile, so delicate, he’d wanted to just kiss her sweetly goodbye.
But as soon as his lips touched hers, she responded and Les was lost in the feel of Charlie. He stroked her back, dipping under the hem of her shirt to stroke the strip of skin there. She turned her head and leaned into him, swirling her little tongue around inside his mouth. Like a heat-seeking missile, it threatened to make Les erupt into flames. She whimpered into his mouth and he showed all the restraint in the world not to shove her up against her truck and make love to her right there in the parking lot.
Now wasn’t the time. With a groan, he pushed himself away from her.
“Oops. That was supposed to be a goodbye, see you tomorrow kiss.” Sheepish, he took another step away from Charlie.
Charlie was openly grinning at him. It wasn’t a shy smile, or a resigned smile, or even a wry one. It was the kind of smile that turned her face into a beacon, and Les wanted to haul her into his arms again.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”
“Yeah. See you then.”
He shut her door and banged on the roof of her truck before she started it. Watching her drive away, Les wondered about tomorrow. Whose graduation was he going to?
Chapter 23
From Carla May’s journal — January 1997—age seventeen
Today, I signed papers to give up all of my parental rights to Trent. Honestly, those were easier to sign than the divorce papers I signed last month. Those hurt bad. I always knew Adam didn’t love me like I loved him, but I thought having Trent would change that. If anything, it made everything worse. Adam was just gone more. If he wasn’t at school, he was working. He says he needs the extra shifts for food and stuff but I know it’s just because I’m fat now. And ugly. If I had known all this would happen, I wouldn’t have gotten pregnant. I was stupid, though, and thought the baby would make us closer. Now Adam loves Trent more and says he can’t help me anymore. He’s the first guy that ever looked at me for more than sex. Ever. Now he won’t even look at me. It’s like I’m invisible.
Charlie had never spent so much time feeling sorry for herself in her life. Certainly not since before she’d been put on all the mood-altering drugs she’d taken for most of her adult days.
All of the memories coming to the front of her mind, coupled with Les’s advocacy were doing a number on her. First, it was his insistence on staying in motels, which she had managed to spend her entire adult life avoiding. Then, it was the banquet, and all the talk about the identity of The Liberator, and now, the motel owner was dead. She knew if she came forward, she could put the men behind bars for a lot longer than the murder charge. The Man’s reappearance in her life was something she wasn’t sure she knew how to deal with, if she was capable anymore. She also knew that if Les knew she was The Liberator, he wouldn’t think poorly of her. Because he was so fucking perfect.
She knew that taking him to Trent’s graduation would open doors for discussion, and she hoped that talking about Trent would lead to the talk she needed to have with him.
She tried to focus on the good parts of the afternoon, instead of the parts that reminded her of her past. But even the good parts—dinner with Les’s family and stories of him getting into trouble with his friends—only served to remind her of what she grew up without.
Charlie had never felt so alone in her life.
Which didn’t make any sense.
She had Les, which was much more than she’d ever had before.
Charlie was ruined. She was not good for relationships. She’d been used and abused and cast aside, someone else’s refuse. She’d come to terms with what she was and how it made her feel years ago. Now, here comes Les, and with one look, he’d taken all that and tossed it up in the air like confetti, dancing in what rained on his head, like it was all some fun-loving party. He cherished her, made her feel whole, wanted.
Les hadn’t been to a high school graduation since his own, and this one was no different. Crowds of people filled the football stadium, hooting and hollering for their loved ones, holding up congratulatory signs and twirling noisemakers. The vibe was definitely exhilarating, everyone hopeful for the future.
Charlie had been quiet. He watched her out of the corner of his eyes and noticed very little reaction. She’d sat up a little straighter when Trent Bookenhaven had strode across the stage and stood at the end while all of his accomplishments and accolades had been recited, and her eyes kept going back to where he sat on the second row of the mass of graduates. Other than that, she showed no reaction whatsoever to her surroundings. He guessed that was who they were here to see, although he still didn’t know why.
After a little more than an hour, the proceedings were over, and most everyone stood to go onto the field to congratulate the graduates. Except Charlie. She stayed in her seat, watching the people mill about.
“Trent?” Les asked, looking at his program to make sure he got the boy’s name right.
She looked at him, a look in her eyes that dared him to say something else. “My son,” she whispered.
Of course. Their last names were similar. Charlie Booke. Trent Bookenhaven. He wondered why she’d had her name shortened. Images of the child who’d birthed the high school graduate shimmered in his brain, and he felt elation at yet another chink in the wall she’d erected around herself. He managed a quick text to Rachel while Charlie still stared at the cluster of people on the field.
“Do you want to go speak to him?” Les motioned to the others while he put away his phone.
She shook her head, gnawing on her thumbnail. Suddenly a faraway voice called to her.
“Charlie!” A man stood next to Trent, who was watching the crowd of onlookers, expectantly. He was about their age with thinning hair, but otherwise fit and Les guessed attractive, and waving to her.
Charlie froze, her face pale, and Les reached for her hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. Under his breath, he said, “He doesn’t know you, does he?” This woman had more walls than Alcatraz. Again, she shook her head, and Les didn’t know if she was responding to him or the man on the field.
Finally she sighed a resigned sound. “Come on.” She tugged him up and started walking down the stadium steps as if sh
e were facing her executioner.
On the pristine grass, Les and Charlie were greeted warmly by the man and his wife, Adam and Sarah. He introduced himself and Adam turned to Trent.
“Trent, I’d like you to meet an old friend, Charlie.” He said it simply, with no expectations, and Les watched as Charlie held out her hand stiffly. Les saw the resemblance immediately. They had the same round face, same smile and same full lips. The young man grasped her hand and pulled her into an embrace that obviously shocked and terrified Charlie, as she remained stiff in his arms while he held his nose in her hair in a move that would have been creepy if it hadn’t have been obvious that he knew who Charlie was. He whispered something in her ear, and when she withdrew from his embrace, her face was splotchy, as if tears were just under the surface.
“Come back to the house for the graduation party, if you want.” Sarah said it hopefully, but the resignation in her face said she knew they wouldn’t. She was a taller woman, like Charlie with blond hair and blue eyes, like Charlie’s. Les wondered absently if the women realized how much alike they looked. Adam apparently had a type.
“I—we can’t. But thank you.” She said it quietly, and Les knew she was barely keeping it together. He wanted to take her into his arms and protect her, but he also knew this was something she needed to do. For whatever reason, she hadn’t been a part of this boy’s life, and this was some sort of stepping-stone for her. He reached over and squeezed her hand, entwining his fingers with hers in a show of solidarity. He couldn’t contain the feeling erupting inside him. He was here with her. She trusted him with this. Needed him.
“Well, then. I guess this is until next time.” Adam held out his hand to shake Les’s and when Les complied, Adam pulled him into a brotherly hug. In his ear, Adam whispered, “Ask her who she is. She’ll tell you. She brought you here. Just don’t fuck with her, man.”
Les couldn’t tell if it was a threat or not, but the words seemed friendly enough. His head was spinning with everything. The graduation ceremony that had seemed so upbeat and hopeful had taken a surreal turn. He nodded and released Adam, watching him hug and whisper in Charlie’s ear before Sarah shook hands and they left.
On the way home, Charlie was silent, her hands whitened on the steering wheel of her truck. Les watched her as tears trickled out of her eyes, one at a time. He could see her pulling away, in the set of her shoulders as they hunched inward, the tilt of her chin, the way her knees were drawn together, as if she would curl up in the fetal position if she weren’t driving.
“Do you want me to drive?”
She shook her head automatically, and then swiped her palm across her face, before pulling over the truck without a word.
They switched places, and Les climbed into the seat of the truck. It was strange, how looking at her truck from this point of view gave him a slightly different perspective on Charlie. The seat was warm, and he couldn’t help but sink into the soft leather as he buckled his seatbelt and put the truck in gear.
His mind swirled with thoughts. He’d met Adam. She’d told him she’d been married, and it hadn’t been a big deal. He was forty-three. How many women his age hadn’t been married? And the kid thing…That was another one that wasn’t too surprising. His gut ached that she’d had what he wanted so badly, but there was more to the story she wasn’t telling him. Something that made the ex-husband and kid a much bigger deal.
Adam had said to ask her who she was. What the hell did that mean? His curiosity was gnawing at him, but one look at Charlie told him she needed more time. Sure enough, her knees had drawn up to her chest and her arms clasped around them, her face buried in her knees. Everything in her posture said she regretted today.
Les had told Charlie he was a patient man, but he realized in this moment, watching her withdraw yet again, his patience was running out. Not knowing if each time she withdrew, she would stay in her shell forever, Les made the decision. He couldn’t go another week without seeing her while she decided to tell him more about herself. One way or another, he would get her story. Today.
When his phone rang, he answered it quietly after seeing it was Rachel calling. Charlie didn’t react at all to the chorus of Youth of a Nation that filled the cab of her truck. She continued staring silently out the window at the passing scenery.
“Hey, Rach. What’s up?”
“I got it.” Her voice was excited, and Les tamped down the anticipation that ratcheted through his veins. He was about to learn her secrets. Glancing at her sideways, he saw she was still focused solely on whatever was going on inside her own head.
“Shoot.”
Rachel’s voice from the other end of the line rose in fervor as she spoke. “Okay. When you texted me the name Bookenhaven, it sounded familiar, so I looked it up. She used to be Carla Bookenhaven, before having her name legally changed to Charlotte Booke. Bookenhaven is Carla’s married name, when she married Adam Bookenhaven when she was sixteen. She used to be Carla May.” Dropping her voice a register, she continued. “Carla May’s testimony was what put Douglas Manning behind bars, Les. This is the link. She was trafficked for five years before Adam saved her and got her help.”
Les felt the blood drain from his face. Fuck. “Where is he now?”
“He’s in the hospital, dying. Pretty appropriate, huh? If you’re the least bit interested in slipping an air bubble in his veins and speeding along the process, he’s in room 203, ICU.”
Without another word, Les disconnected the call and pushed on the gas pedal to get to town faster. This was it. He had no idea if what he was doing was the right thing, but one thing was for sure. He would get something out of Charlie today.
Of course, she might never speak to him again.
He pulled into the hospital parking lot, and Charlie gradually came out of her daze. Lifting her chin from her knees, she looked at Les, the question in her eyes.
“There’s someone here I think you need to see. I’ll be right next to you.” He was as reassuring as he could be, although some part of him felt like he was making a huge mistake, forcing this confrontation. But, at this point, he’d crossed the line and had to follow through.
Opening the passenger door, he held his hand out for Charlie and led her into the hospital. She allowed herself to be led, still partially in the haze she’d succumbed to in the truck. Her eyes had a veil over them, and when they stepped off the elevator on the second floor, Les pulled her into his arms.
She willingly allowed the embrace, but when he whispered in her ear, he felt her tense up again. “I’m here for you, Sweetness. You.” Grabbing her hand, he led her to the window outside room 203.
As she stared at the distinctly yellowish man on the bed through the window, her mouth opened. Then snapped shut. Les held his breath, waiting for her reaction.
When it finally came, it surprised him.
Without taking her eyes off the man, Charlie whispered, “How did you know?”
Stepping behind her, Les wrapped his arms around her, and thankfully, she actually leaned on him, as if gathering strength. He’d give it to her. He’d give her everything.
“I didn’t. Rachel just found out and called me on the way home.”
Charlie took a deep breath, and Les waited.
And waited.
“He’s dying, isn’t he?” Her choked whisper broke Les’s heart. She sounded sad. Les was familiar with the psychological torture the girls were put through, seeing their traffickers as saviors, but it did something to his insides to see Charlie reacting this way toward hers. She was an adult. A successful adult, in his mind. Was the brainwashing this deep?
Wordless, he only nodded against her shoulder.
After a few more minutes of feeling her heart pound against his hands, Les felt Charlie squirm out of his grasp.
“I have some things to say to him.”
“I’m coming with you.”
She stopped and turned to him. “You don’t have to do everything, Les.”
“I
know. I want to do this with you. I’m with you.” He repeated it, wanting her to understand she never had to go through things like this alone again.
Silently, she nodded, and slipped her hand into his before entering the room.
The antiseptic smell was second to the smell of death. The sounds of monitors beeping were a lulling backdrop. Charlie stood at the foot of the bed, Les by her side, squeezing her hand gently.
Douglas Manning had probably been attractive in his youth, capitalizing on those looks much the same way Ted Bundy had. Dark hair, chiseled cheeks, slim frame. He wore disease like a cloak though, his youthful vitality only a ghost. His stomach was distended and swollen, and he had the look of a man not long for this world.
His eyelids fluttered open, and a vague smile crossed his lips as his unfocussed gaze landed on Charlie.
“Carla… My diamond—”
“You stop.” Her command cut through the death in the room like a knife. “You don’t get to spew your twisted mindfucks, anymore. It’s my turn now.” She was shaking, and Les squeezed her hand again, showing support, wishing he could do this for her, but knowing she needed to do it on her own.
“For so long, I loved you. And hated you. I spent so much energy on you. Pleasing you.” Her voice choked on the last words, and Les gritted his teeth against the implications of her words. Charlie took a deep breath and continued, her voice stronger, and growing in strength as she spoke. “You stole my shitty childhood. You stole what little innocence I had left. You ruined me for years.” Tears tracked down her face. “I’m just now getting over the things you forced me to do, the way you made me feel.”
