A Family Under the Stars

by Christy Jeffries

  A loud shriek came from the house followed by the slap of the back porch screen, then their mom was dashing across their yard in her high-heeled sandals calling out, “Sweetie, put it down. Carefully, please.”

  Unfortunately, the woman didn’t appear to be concerned about her own lack of caution. Alex saw the gopher hole a split second before Charlotte’s foot found it and he was already running to her as she went down. Both girls came sprinting to their mother’s side, dual looks of concern marring their cute faces.

  “Are you okay, Mommy?” Elsa asked, still holding her slithery friend.

  “I’m fine. I just jarred my ankle a little bit.” The ankle in question was already swelling and Alex recognized the brave determination on her face as Charlotte tried to stand up. She wobbled, and he immediately wrapped his arm around her waist, causing his muscles to tense. Hell, even with her injured and a yard full of witnesses, his body still reacted to touching her.

  Audrey didn’t say anything, but nudged Vic forward. “The little one is right,” Vic said, despite the fact that Alex hadn’t heard the small girl utter a word. “I should probably carry you inside.”

  “Watch out,” Commodore pushed his son out of the way and puffed out his barrel chest. “I’ll carry her.”

  “No, no. That’s not necessary,” Charlotte said. “I can walk just fine.”

  Her proud smile slowly crumpled with each step she hobbled, and she’d only made it a few feet when Alex couldn’t take seeing her in any more pain and swept her up into his arms.

  She let out an oomph of air and stiffened her body. Her eyes were now violet, filled with pain and only a few inches from his as she looked at him intently. “No, really. I’m okay. I can walk.”

  “Charlotte, just relax,” he said under his breath, trying not to make this into a bigger scene.

  She brought her face closer to him and he felt her warm breath as she whispered in his ear. “I don’t want the girls to think I’m hurt. They’ll worry.”

  “But you are hurt.”

  “Not that badly.”

  “I get that you want to protect your daughters. However, it will be a lot worse if I let you put any more pressure on that swelling ankle.” He could feel the second his words dawned on her because she let her muscles relax and finally settled in against him.

  But in his haste to lift her, he hadn’t taken the time to ensure that her dress didn’t flutter up and he was surprised to find his palm on the bare skin of her outer thigh. A breeze caused the hem to tickle the back of his hand and he felt her jerk the fabric over them both.

  Her eyes grew wide, and a deeper shade of purple, as if she’d just now realized how intimately he was touching her. But then a voice reminded him that they had an audience.

  “You wanna hold Prince String Bean, Mommy?” Elsa asked from behind them. “He might make you feel better.”

  Charlotte’s straight hair brushed against his cheek, making him long for the messy curls, as she turned back toward her daughter. “Who’s Prince String Bean?”

  “My new pet snake.”

  Charlotte released her hold on his shoulders and he could imagine her pointing one of those long pretty fingers at her daughter. “Elsa Montgomery Folsom, you put that thing down right this second.”

  “Mr. Commodore says it’s not poisonous, Mommy.”

  “I also said that garter snakes belong outside and not as pets.” Huh. Com’s voice was way gentler than it had ever been when Alex was a boy and brought home everything from a baby raccoon to a western toad.

  “But I wanna keep him,” Elsa sniffed.

  His grandfather knelt down to deliver a kinder version of the lecture Alex was all too familiar with, while he carried Charlotte inside. He set her down on the worn brown-plaid recliner, which was normally reserved for only Com. But since the old man and his impromptu snake hunt were the indirect reason for their guest’s injury, his grandfather would have to find somewhere else to sit.

  “Audrey says what you need is a good cuddle from a teddy bear.” Vic spoke up.

  Alex squinted at the five-year-old balanced on his dad’s right hip. He hadn’t heard her say that at all. But when Charlotte opened her arms and the small child moved onto her lap, he had the bizarre thought that the girl and his father were somehow communicating in other ways.

  The timer pinged on the oven and Charlotte tried to stand up. Alex reached down, grabbed the side handle on the recliner and extended the footrest, preventing her from going anywhere.

  “Oh, cool,” Elsa said as she came inside with Com, thankfully without Prince String Bean. “It’s a magical chair that turns into a bed. Does this one do it, too?”

  Vic chuckled as he went into the kitchen. The older girl hopped onto the faded turquoise recliner that was next to her mom’s and played with the handle like a kid with a new jack-in-the-box toy, shrieking in delight every time the footrest popped out. Com looked at both of the occupied chairs before letting out a loud huff and plopping his old body on the brown striped sofa—the least used item of furniture in the house besides the dining room table.

  Alex had never thought of his house as being anything other than a place to sleep and stow his gear. The cabin was comfortable and suited their needs, and he’d never wanted anything more than that. It hadn’t been remodeled or refurnished since Granola passed away, and if his mother had thought the place wasn’t good enough way back then, he could only imagine what someone like Charlotte must think of it. Although, her exuberant daughters seemed enthralled by the most ordinary things.

  “Mommy, can we get one of these magic chairs when we get home?” Elsa asked.

  “I don’t know where we would put it, sweetie,” Charlotte said absently, as she stroked her other child’s hair, hopefully not noticing the missing bow.

  Vic returned to the living room with an ice pack, making Alex feel even more useless. He took it from his dad and placed it on Charlotte’s swollen ankle, then asked, “What do you need me to finish in the kitchen?”

  “I can do it.” Her arm stiffened and she tried to push herself up. This time, he put his hand on her shoulder. “Everything’s almost done, anyway.”

  “No, Charlotte. You’re our guest and you need to keep that thing elevated.” Her muscles tensed under his fingers and Alex got the impression that most people didn’t tell her no. “In fact, I should probably take you back to Shadowview for X-rays.”

  She blasted him with a cool look and pursed her lips before giving her regal head one subtle shake. Yeah, the woman definitely had a thing about hospitals. But his threat had the desired effect and she sighed. “The dressing needs to go on the salad, then top it with the grated parmesan.”

  She continued to give him detailed instructions about each dish, and he saw her eyes grow round when Vic began opening up the TV trays and setting them around the living room. “I...uh...thought we could eat in there.” Charlotte gave a pointed look at the dining table, which she’d covered with a faded quilt and set with the Corningware plates Granola used to keep in the china cabinet—back when they used the thing for dishes and not as a drying rack to hang damp wetsuits.

  Seeing how prettily she’d set the table with what few options they’d had available made the rest of their cabin look crude by comparison, and the knot of shame that had been threatening to choke him all evening finally was more than he could swallow. How had his grandfather and his dad let things get so bad?

  “Why’s my momma’s birthing quilt out here?” Com asked the room in general.

  Elsa froze, mid-recline, her hazel eyes glued to the older man. “You have a mom?”

  “’Course I do. Even wild animals have mommas. She gave birth to me right on that there quilt, in fact.”

  Alex squeezed his eyes shut, but not before he saw Charlotte’s cheeks turn the same color as her swollen ankle. “I�
��m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know that was an heirloom. I just thought it was pretty and would make a lovely tablecloth.”

  “Don’t think nothin’ of it.” Com waved his hand. “Momma used to set a pretty table, too.”

  Elsa climbed off the La-Z-Boy and walked over to study his grandfather’s weathered face, trailing a finger down one of his wrinkles. “Is your mommy still alive? ’Cause, if so, she must be a hundred years old.”

  Com hooted with laughter, Alex bit back a grin and Charlotte looked as if she wanted to sink into the brown plaid fabric. “Nah, she passed away a long time ago. But she was a tough old bird. She would’ve liked a fun sassbucket like you.”

  “Sassbucket,” the little girl repeated, then broke into a fit of giggles. Com began tickling her and Audrey leaped off her mom’s lap to get in on the playful action.

  Charlotte’s lips relaxed into a smile, and Vic shouted words of encouragement to the two girls. A dampness spread across Alex’s palms and he shoved his hands into his pockets. This whole scene was way too cozy. Too family-like. When he was at his friends’ houses and witnessed how they interacted with their wives and kids and extended relatives, he’d always been fine with it. He’d never felt envious or like he was missing out. But now that it was happening in his own home, with his own family, he didn’t quite know what to feel. All he knew was that whatever this feeling was, he needed to get the woman—and all the homey possibilities she invoked—out of his life before he started liking it too much.

  And wanting something he knew he could never have.

  Chapter Seven

  After dinner, Alex drove her and the girls home in Kylie’s SUV, while his father followed in one of the Jeeps. Her daughters were passed out asleep in the backseat, and as they pulled into the Gregsons’ driveway, Charlotte was reminded of the last time he’d dropped her off here.

  When he shut off the engine and the interior lights dimmed, she wondered if he would kiss her again. Instead, he pointed to her ankle. “You promise to have Garrett McCormick check on it first thing in the morning?”

  “Who?”

  “My friend, Dr. McCormick. He’s an orthopedic surgeon—one of the best. Even if it’s just a sprain, you should still get it checked out.”

  “Will he mind doing a house call?” she asked. Because the last thing Charlotte wanted to deal with was going back to a hospital, with or without her girls in tow.

  But before Alex could respond, Kylie Gregson came out her front door, not looking the least bit sick. Maybe it had been one of those twelve hour bugs. Or maybe her friend didn’t want the Russells over to her house, after all. Something prickled along the back of Charlotte’s neck and she had to tell herself that she was overthinking things. After all, Kylie had been the one to suggest, then orchestrate the thank-you dinner. Besides, Charlotte didn’t have time to wonder about anyone’s motives before the redhead jerked the passenger door open, a worried expression across her brow.

  “Commodore called and said you were on your way home with a busted ankle.” Her friend’s voice was loud with concern, causing the six-year-old in the backseat to stir awake.

  “Hey, Aunt Kylie,” Elsa said, her eyes popping open as if she hadn’t been sound asleep just a second ago. “You missed out on the bestest time, ever. They had these magic chairs that turn into beds and these teeny-tiny tables for just one person and we watched a fishing show on their ginormous TV and I found a snake named Prince String Bean and Mr. Russell Number Three said a bad word and then he lifted Mommy right up in his arms like the Woodsman carried Snow White after she woked up from eating the poisoned apple.”

  “Well,” Kylie replied, laughter blossoming behind her eyes. “I don’t know which one of those exciting things to address first, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t the Woodsman who kissed Snow White. Or if there’s even a Woodsman in the story.”

  Charlotte heard her friend’s dramatic emphasis on the word kissed and prayed that Alex hadn’t noticed.

  “But Mr. Russell Number Three lives in the woods and his house is so neat,” Elsa said, climbing out of the car and taking Kylie’s hand. “Also, Mr. Commodore—who’s really Mr. Russell Number One, but we call him Mr. Commodore for short—said my mom makes the best noodle bake he’s ever tasted and he called me Dumpling and a sassbucket and said we can come back to visit anytime we want.”

  Audrey, despite the lively chatter, was still asleep when Vic made his way to the rear door and lifted her up out of her booster seat. Which meant that unless Charlotte could pull herself out of the car and limp up to the porch, Alex would be carrying her again.

  She was pretty sure nothing was broken, but as she scrambled to climb out of the passenger side, Charlotte bumped her injury against the steel doorjamb and had to bite her lip to keep from yelping out in pain.

  Too late. Alex was already by her side, witnessing her scrunched-up face and giving her a reprimanding look.

  “You do kind of look like Snow White with that headband in your hair,” he said, before effortlessly lifting her up into his arms. This time, though, Charlotte carefully kept the skirt of her dress tucked around her legs. She could still feel the imprint of his hand against her bare thigh from two hours ago and, as they passed through the front door, she thought about purposely banging her ankle against the wood frame just so that she’d have a different feeling to take her mind off of the intimate memory. But she resisted the temptation only because she didn’t want her more-than-likely sprain to turn into a broken bone.

  As the procession moved into the entryway, Vic almost crashed into Elsa when she stopped midsentence to lift up the hem of her dress and proudly show Kylie the tear she’d gotten from a rusty nail sticking out of the ladder in Alex’s old tree fort. Maybe when the doctor came to check Charlotte’s ankle in the morning, she should ask about the necessity of getting her daughter a tetanus shot.

  As they stood there waiting for the others to resume their pace, Alex shifted his hold on her. The movement brought her closer against him and her startled gasp was loud enough to bring his full attention to her face.

  Having his eyes, his lips, that close to hers, made her draw in another mouthful of air.

  “Are you okay?” Alex asked.

  “Of course. It’s just that this house is so pretty, it still takes my breath away every time I come in the door.”

  She tried to tell herself that it wasn’t a complete lie. The Gregsons’ home was effortlessly luxurious, but relaxing at the same time. Really, it should be featured in a magazine spread about lakeshore vacation homes, and Charlotte had suggested as much to her hosts. However, Drew, being the complete opposite of his wife in terms of showmanship, worried his patients would view him as unrelatable.

  Personally, she thought every human could relate to such a peaceful and comfortable house. The custom-designed gourmet kitchen was a waste, given Kylie’s lack of culinary talent, but it looked out onto the open floor plan of the great room with its tall wood-beamed ceiling, river rock fireplace and a wall of windows framing a perfect view of Lake Rush.

  “Compared to this place, you must think I live in a dump,” Alex said, before giving a self-deprecating laugh.

  When Charlotte had been a little girl, one of their cleaning ladies used to bring her son to work with her whenever the kid’s grandmother was too sick to babysit him. Charlotte, desperate for someone her age to talk to, tried to befriend the boy, but he’d laughed in that same way and said rich people were boring and lived in boring houses. The memory caused her to stiffen in Alex’s arms.

  She’d been on the receiving end of reverse snobbery too many times not to recognize it now. Or to be bothered by it. By her third year of marriage, Charlotte had finally come to the conclusion that no matter how warm and welcoming she was, she couldn’t make someone like her. Or love her.

  She should’ve just let the remark pas
s. After all, who cared what conclusion Alex had mistakenly assumed about her? It wasn’t like she was ever going to see the man again. Yet the thought of him feeling inferior because of something she couldn’t help made her rib cage feel all crumbly—like the topping of a fruit cobbler.

  “Actually,” she said, “I think your house has a ton of character and charm. The girls and I both felt right at home there.”

  “Yeah, right.” Alex rolled his eyes before setting her on the oversized L-shaped sofa. “Think Kylie would get pissed if I bought Drew a magic reclining chair like Com’s for his birthday?”

  “You can ask her when she and your dad come back from putting the girls in the guest bedroom.” Though she was positive that her stylish friend would object to that particular gift, Charlotte was proud that she’d diplomatically avoided answering the question while at the same time warning them both that witnesses would be returning soon.

  “I’ll grab you an ice pack,” he said, before going into the kitchen to rummage around in the freezer. For a man who’d been so quick to scoff at their plush surroundings, Alex certainly knew his way around this house and moved around the place as comfortably as if he were in a tent in the woods. Then again, Alex was also good friends with the Gregsons and had probably spent more time here as a guest than Charlotte. The realization confirmed that his initial comment was a dig at her and not the actual house itself. The crumbly feeling intensified.

  When he returned, Alex’s fingers were gentle as he arranged her foot on a pillow propped up on the overstuffed ottoman, and Charlotte, falling under the spell of his touch, almost forgot about his snide accusation. But when the obvious sound of steps echoed from the hallway, he pulled his hands back as though her skin was covered in lava rather than an ice-filled baggie.

  “You ready to go, Dad?” he asked Vic, then scrubbed his hand over his face, as though he could wipe off his eagerness to get away from this house and away from her.