The front door closed softly. A moment later, Julietta was tiptoeing into the kitchen. “Oh, Jo. I thought you went upstairs. I was sneaking in for a cookie or two.”
“Help yourself.” She slid a container her way. The fair skin of her sister’s face flushed the fresh-pink of kissing. Her lips were bright red.
“You know,” Johanna hedged, “I think he was hinting he’d like to spend the night.”
“Of course he was. I’m not an idiot, Jo.”
“I didn’t mean to imply you are.”
“It’s just not me.”
“Ok, honey. I didn’t mean—”
“You all think I’m a baby. The little sister. I wish you’d all stop treating me like a perpetual child. I have three degrees and a Masters in linguistics.”
“Hey.” Johanna moved closer. “What’s this all about? You know I didn’t mean anything like that.”
Julietta slumped, took an angry bite of a cookie and several deep breaths.
“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean it either. It’s just…I really like him, enough to care what he thinks of me, of…how I am.”
“How you are is why he likes you.”
“But doesn’t that make it, I don’t know…gross?”
“Gross?”
“Like he’s into freaks or something.”
“Julietta, don’t say that. You are not a freak.”
“We’re all freaks, Jo.” She smiled a little sadly. “All four of us, in our own ways. I just happen to be the freakiest.”
Johanna did not quibble. She knew exactly what her sister was saying. Their reputation as the crazy Coco sisters had been well-earned, once-upon-a-time. No dare untaken, no adventure refused, no slight unaddressed, the moniker had become a badge of honor that nevertheless hurt to hear spoken aloud.
“Who wants to be normal, anyway?” Johanna asked. “Normal is boring. When do you think people stopped understanding that normal just means average?”
“Probably when it started making all those boring people feel better about themselves.”
Julietta ate her cookie. Johanna finished tidying up the kitchen. Folding the dishtowel, she opened her mouth to say goodnight.
“What would your wish be?” Julietta asked.
Johanna thought about it a lot when she was a kid. Frivolous wishes, like a pony or to go on a date with Justin Timberlake, to more serious wishes about never being parted from her sisters all gave way to one wish, the one that first came to her head when Gram told her she had it to make.
“I don’t know,” she lied to her sister a second time. “What would you?”
“It…it would be hard to pick just one.”
“True.”
“Do you think there could really be a wish in the locket? Like, for real?”
With Emma or Nina, Johanna would laugh and tell them to be serious. With Julietta, she could say, “Yeah, I do.”
“So do I.” Julietta hugged her then, tightly.
The locket, tucked back under her clothes, pressed against Johanna’s skin, warm, then cool, then warm, its rhythm again like a heartbeat.
Her sister let her go. “Don’t forget your promise.”
“I crossed my heart and stuck a booger in my eye, didn’t I?”
A tear rolled down Julietta’s cheek. “It wasn’t Gram who said that.”
“I know.”
“He was weird too.”
“A freak, like the rest of us.”
“I miss him every day.”
“I do, too.”
“Not more than I do. I…” Julietta took a deep breath. “I’m going to bed. Night, Jo.”
“Night, Jules.”
Johanna waited until her sister’s door closed upstairs to tiptoe past the parlor where Nina and Gunner were crawling all over one another beside the fire, and trudge up the stairs. She checked on her sleeping nephews. Behind her own closed door, she stripped down to nothing but the locket, climbed into bed, and fell instantly to sleep.
* * * *
Little girls should never speak of dying, or sticking needles in their eyes. They are sugar and spice and everything nice, with heaven in their eyes, and star dust glistening on fairies’ wings. They are my joy and heart’s delight. They walk in beauty like the night. Little girls should never be hungry or scared or cold. They should never know such horrors. They should never see such things.
Chapter 7
Six Geese a’Laying
In the attic room, the boys were arguing. Charlie listened to them, making sure it did not escalate. Tony and Caleb were packed for the few days they would spend with their mother. Will still insisted he wasn’t going. He had to work. He had plans. He didn’t want to spend a week sleeping on the floor in Tracy’s house when he could have the whole attic to himself. Charlie was torn. As much as he loved his kids, he wouldn’t lie and pretend it wouldn’t be nice to have a few days completely to himself. He hadn’t had one of those since he was eighteen.
The knock at the front door took him by surprise, not the sound, but that she knocked at all. Gina stood on the porch, framed by the window, her back to him. Small and slim, slightly wider in the hips, she had let her hair grow in the year since she left. “Short and sassy” had been the pervading style during their marriage. Easier to deal with. She turned when he opened the storm door, a wary smile on her full lips.
“Hey,” she said. “The kids ready?”
“Mommy!”
Millie came running down the stairs, her purple pony duffle dragging behind her. Gina bent to catch her in a hug. Charlie’s heart squirmed a little. He quelled it before he could decide if it was a happy sensation, or a frightened one.
“Stellina.” Gina held her close. “How I’ve missed my little star.”
“The boys aren’t ready yet,” Charlie said when she put Millie down. “You want coffee? We still have a ton of cookies here.”
His ex-wife eyed him skeptically, but she nodded. “Go hurry your brothers along. We have an hour drive to Tracy’s, and your cousins want to have a snowball fight before lunch.”
Millie clapped her hands and pounded back up the steps. “Will, Caleb, Tony! Mommy’s here!”
At the counter in the kitchen, Charlie poured coffee, slid the container of cookies Johanna had brought over. Gina picked up a star-shaped one. “Johanna Coco, huh? Finally?” She took a bite. “Wow. This is better than I was expecting.”
Again that squirmy feeling. In the year and some since she left him, he’d mostly stopped being angry. Johanna’s return to Bitterly banished the anger completely. Much as he hated how it all happened, Charlie could not be sorry it had.
“Will is still insisting he’s not coming with you,” he said. “We could make him. I just didn’t want to push it until we discussed it first.”
Gina finished her cookie and dug out a chocolate and toffee chip. She closed her eyes in only slightly exaggerated bliss as she ate it. “Really good. I’m going to take some of these with me. If that’s okay.”
“Sure.”
She wiped her hands on her jeans. “If William comes down ready to go with me, great. If he doesn’t, I don’t want to force him. That’s not going to do anything good.”
“You’re probably right.”
Gina leaned on the counter. She sipped her coffee out of a mug, Charlie realized, Charlotte had given her for Mother’s Day, years ago. If she noticed, she didn’t say anything. After a moment, she set the mug down.
“In all the chaos yesterday, we never got a chance to talk.”
“Do we have anything to talk about?”
She smiled a little sadly. He’d forgotten how perfect her teeth were. Her olive skin, Florida-tanned, made them seem even whiter. “How have you been, Charlie?”
“Okay, I guess. I haven’t had much time to think about it.”
“Is that good?”
He laughed. “I suppose it is. Kind of. You?”
“I’v
e had way too much time to think.” Gina plucked another cookie from the container. “All these years, life has been so…noisy. Soccer and school and summer camp and homework and squabbles and who gets to watch what on television. Now, life is so quiet, just me and—” She glanced at him. “Just my own voice in my head most of the time. It’s been good, and really awful.”
Charlie let go a deep breath. He sipped his own coffee. “I can’t imagine being without them,” he said, “but I wouldn’t mind some quiet.”
“You’ll have it this summer.”
His gut seized, but Charlie nodded.
“Look forward to it, Charlie. You’re a good dad. You always have been. But you need time to be Charlie McCallan, too.” She bit into the cookie still in her hand—a snowball. Again the slightly exaggerated bliss. “Damn, these are really good. So…Johanna Coco, huh?”
“I heard and ignored you the first time.” Charlie laughed. “Does it bother you?”
“Why would it?”
“Because we used to fight whenever she came to town.”
“That was envy,” Gina admitted. “She had what I never would.”
“What you never wanted.”
“Only a little true. I wanted us to work, Charlie. Not just for the kids, for us. You deserved better than a spouse going through the motions. And so did I.”
Anger battled compassion. Truth battled pretense. He pushed fingers through his hair, rubbed at the beard that needed a trim, both grown out since she left because he could, and Charlie McCallan could not find it in him to disagree. “You really have done a lot of thinking.”
She nodded. “I hate all the hurt I caused you, Charlie. I really do.”
“You didn’t just hurt me, Gina. You humiliated me.”
“How many times can I say I’m sorry?” The question trembled from her lips. It had taken a lot of courage to return to Bitterly, to face the children still so hurt they had refused to see her, the man she humiliated, and the town that had rallied around him. She was a villain. And still Gina came back. For her kids.
Several pairs of feet pounding down the steps had Charlie stepping away and Gina wiping her eyes. By the time the kids got to the kitchen, they were both smiling.
“All ready?” she asked, arms outstretched. Tony and Millie took a hand each. Caleb’s eyes strayed to his father, his smile unsteady. And though Will’s stony expression had not changed since the day prior and his earbuds were in his ears, his backpack hung from his shoulder.
“Say bye to Daddy, kids. He gets a few days of peace and quiet.”
“No, he doesn’t,” Millie chirped. “Charlotte’s staying and she’s the noisiest.”
“No, you are.” Tony shoved his twin.
“No, you are.” Millie shoved him back. Caleb grabbed his little brother by the backpack and hauled him to their father.
“See you in a few days, Dad,” he said, then leaned closer. “You sure this is all right?”
Charlie kissed his son’s cheek. “It’s fine. Have fun.”
* * * *
“You have everything you need?” Charlotte fussed over the groceries on the counter. Charlie took the potatoes she was inspecting out of her hands, reminding himself this was her way of avoiding the otherwise empty house, and her mother’s hand in that.
“Everything. Now stop—”
“You remembered she likes merlot?”
“Yes, Charlotte. I remembered she likes merlot. Will you relax? I’m the one cooking for Johanna.”
“I just want it to be perfect for you.”
“Honey.” Charlie took her shoulders in his hands. “Thank you, but I got this. Okay?”
Charlotte bit her lip. “I want you to be happy, Daddy.”
“I am. I have been. Getting to know Johanna again is a bonus, not the only key to my life’s happiness.”
“You don’t…I thought you wanted to, you know, marry her or something.”
Charlie let go of his daughter, took a step back. “It’s a little soon to start thinking that way. There’s twenty years between the kids we were and the adults we are. For now, we’re getting to know one another again.”
“If you say so.” Charlotte kissed his cheek. “I might be home late. Katie is not letting me go back to school until I hit up a karaoke night with her.”
“Katie has heard you sing, right?”
“Funny, Dad.” She smacked at his arm. “Don’t wait up.”
“I won’t.”
She took her coat from the rack. Pulling her hat onto her head, she grinned at him. “And if Johanna’s here for breakfast, I promise not to torture you too much.”
“Get going.” He laughed.
“I’m just saying.”
“Go.”
Charlie pushed closed the door that never shut on the first try. The house wasn’t just small, it was old. Windows and doors didn’t open or close without a struggle. One window in the front room hadn’t opened in all the years they lived there. The floorboards in the kitchen didn’t always meet up in the winter, and buckled in the summer. He and Gina bought it with a down-payment loan from her folks. It was all they could afford. He remembered their excitement, their plans.
Charlie smiled sadly. Whatever their beginning or their end, there had been happiness. Family vacations, birthday parties, back-to-school nights and end-of-the-year picnics. What he and Gina had in common were their children, no more, and no less. They loved them, even if they hadn’t been in love themselves. And now he was making dinner for another woman in the house they had shared.
Cooking Italian seemed wrong, somehow. Johanna was the granddaughter of Adelina Coco, arguably the best cook in Bitterly. Her lasagna never made it through five minutes at a potluck. Instead, he dug out an old recipe from his Irish grandmother. Shepherd’s pie. All the ingredients lined the counter, checked and double-checked. Charlotte’s claim that he was a good cook did little for his confidence. Everything he knew how to make, Gina taught him. He’d never made anything this elaborate on his own.
He floured and browned the beef, added the stout, onions and thyme, and let it cook low and slow. The house was soon abundant with the aroma conjuring his grandparents so clearly he could almost see the stone cottage, the ivy-covered trellis, the mossy roof—their home created to mimic what they left behind in Ireland. Granddad even had a peat-burning stove installed. Charlie could still close his eyes and recall the scorched-earth scent.
Cork popped, he set the wine out to breathe. He stirred the vegetables into the pot, gave the mashed potatoes one last whip, smooth and creamy. He layered them thick on top. Brushing it with butter, he afforded himself a small swell of pride before he slid the pie into the oven to crisp. Charlie was setting the table when she knocked on the door. He looked at his clothes smeared with his cooking. No shower either. Where had the time gone?
Johanna stood on the porch much as Gina had earlier—her back to him, hair curling down her back. She was looking streetward, waving to someone walking a dog. Charlie took a moment to brush off his shirt, smooth his hair, and stopped. This was the girl he’d spent a summer exploring the woods with. She’d seen him sweaty and dirty and covered in worse than a bit of mashed potato, when he was skinny and next-to-hairless, when he was little more than a boy. Opening the door, he pulled her inside and into a kiss before she could even say hello.
“Well,” she breathed when he released her. “That was some greeting.”
“I missed you.”
“We saw one another last night.”
“Only for a minute.” He let her go. “Let me take your things.”
Johanna handed him her coat, stuffing her hat into the sleeve. Her static-charged hair stuck straight up. She didn’t seem to notice. “It smells amazing in here.”
“Shepherd’s pie.” He smoothed her hair, kissed her lips. “I hope you like it.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever had it.”
He led her to the kitchen and po
ured them both wine. She asked how the morning had gone with Gina and the kids. Charlie answered as casually as he could. They ate and they talked and they reminisced, all talk grazing the surface of things and safe. Pleasant, easy, comfortable. As they washed dishes side by side, Johanna telling him about how crowded Cape May got starting Memorial Day, Charlie felt as if the years between that teenage-summer and now had been otherwise spent. Without the kids in the house, he could almost convince himself it were true.
They took their wine glasses into the family room and sat together on the couch. The video game console, a bin of toys in the corner, the blanket Millie always wrapped up in when she watched television, shoved Charlie from behind, making him feel as if his earlier thought betrayed the kids somehow. Johanna curled into his side, her head resting on his shoulder. He tried to regain the easy feeling, and failed.
“You want to watch a movie?” he asked.
“As long as it’s not scary. I hate scary movies.”
“Let’s see what’s available.” He clicked through the movie channels. Johanna’s hand shot out to stop him.
“Go back.”
“Shaun of the Dead? Sounds scary to me.”
“Have you ever seen it?”
“No.”
“It’s hilarious.” She took the remote from him. “Hot Fuzz and The World’s End are on too. We could do a Cornetto trilogy marathon.”
“What’s a Cornetto?”
“Are you kidding me?” Johanna shifted so she was facing him. “Don’t tell me it’s been nothing but Disney movies for you.”
“There were a few others in there.”
“But not Shaun of the Dead.”
“No, no Shaun of the Dead. What’s it about?”
“Zombies.”
“A funny zombie movie. Sounds fantastic. Queue it up.”
Johanna snuggled back into him, clicked the remote. It took a few minutes for his pulse to ease and his body to relax with her so soft in his arms, but he managed. Halfway through the movie, Charlotte came home. Early. They paused the movie to hear about her abysmal experience at the karaoke bar with Katie, who she would never forgive for dragging her there.
Seeking Carolina (Bitterly Suite Book 1) Page 11
