There was something in Sam’s voice, wistfulness perhaps, but it touched Charlotte.
“This hasn’t been easy,” Charlotte felt the need to clarify.
Samantha reached out. “Of course not. I didn’t mean to make light of the tragedy. But instead of vilifying Julia, you’ve banded around her.”
Charlotte reached for her cup and took a long sip, not meeting Sam’s gaze.
“You personally are making sure her store stays open. Lacie, a mother whose child is dead because of Julia’s son, makes sure she has enough food.” She shook her head.
“We’re not saints, Samantha. You should know that—haven’t you dug through enough of our closets to see that?” Charlotte asked.
If Jordan had his way, she would be digging through the one closet she’d hoped to keep under lock and key.
12
When she’d arrived home, she’d found a note on the kitchen table that Jordan had gone to the golf course. Needed to clear his head before their talk.
She wasn’t surprised. Jordan often said playing golf helped him to think.
Got your note. She sent him a text. See you when you get home.
With Jordan not home, she decided to take advantage of the time alone and work out downstairs. She could handle a few rounds with the punching bag tonight, truth be told.
She was halfway down the stairs, workout clothes on, when the doorbell rang.
“You forgot, didn’t you?” Anne Marie walked into the house, wine bottle in one hand as she took in Charlotte’s outfit.
Charlotte bit her lip. She totally had.
“A polite person would suggest we do this another night, but it’s a good thing I’m not polite.” Anne Marie winked before heading into Charlotte’s kitchen where she proceeded to open the wine bottle and fill two glasses.
“I’m glad you suggested this.” Anne Marie teased as she sank down on the Adirondack chair, and sighed. “There’s nothing like a Stillwater sunset at the end of a busy day, especially when there’s wine involved.”
“Agreed.” The smile pasted on Charlotte’s face felt fake, foreign, and she wondered how long they’d continue with the small talk before Anne Marie started asking hard questions.
Because Anne Marie always asked the hard questions.
The two enjoyed their wine in silence while the waves crested on the sand and the seagulls flew over them. Buster chewed on a bone Anne Marie had brought off to the side, and the sounds of children playing in the distance added to the whole contented atmosphere Charlotte wished she’d felt.
“Where’s Jordan tonight?” Anne Marie asked.
“Golfing.” She leaned her head back eyes closed. What she couldn’t give for a night alone. Without anyone peppering her with questions, forcing her to confront her emotions or needing her to be someone she was too tired to be.
God, she was tired. It just hit her, like a wave that didn’t break.
“That’s a bad thing?”
“No.” Charlotte sighed. “It’s actually a good thing. Jordan thinks better when he’s golfing.” She arched her back a little, needing to relieve the tighteness all through her shoulders.
“What’s he thinking about?”
Charlotte groaned. She’d said too much and she was still sipping at her first glass of wine. It was as if the words wanted to come out, her need to bare her own soul and that wouldn’t be okay. Not even with Anne Marie.
”Just…stuff.” Charlotte hedged. “School stuff, you know?” Hopefully that would be enough of an answer.
“I’ve noticed he’s been attending a few of the group sessions Pastor Scott runs in the evenings.” Anne Marie threw that little piece of information out there, probably not aware that it was news to Charlotte.
Like a kick to the stomach, Charlotte reeled with this new info. How did she not know about these meetings? Why would he hide this from her?
“I think it’s been good, especially for some of the parents,” Anne Marie continued, ignorant of how tightly Charlotte held her wineglass. “A few times concerns over kids’ safety and emotional well-being have come up, and his presence there, being able to answer questions…it’s been good. I wasn’t sure if it was your idea for him to attend or…”
Charlotte took a large gulp of her wine, almost choking on the idea that this was her idea for him to attend. “He thought of that one all on his own.”
Buster came over and plopped his head on her lap, his tongue hanging from the side as he nudged her hand for petting.
“So you’ve been going to those sessions?” Charlotte asked. She’d gone to a few in the beginning, but it felt like people started to see her presence there as a means for asking questions about what she was doing as the mayor rather than trying to deal with their own emotions.
Anne Marie nodded. “I like going. It feels safe and gives me a place to share how my heart is hurting from losing Bobby.”
Anne Marie had lost her nephew in the school shooting.
“Does it help? Going?”
“It does,” Anne Marie agreed. “Especially lately. It’s hard, though…to find joy when you’re surrounded by grief, you know?”
Charlotte nodded. “Doesn’t mean it can’t or won’t happen. Weren’t you the one to tell me that we can’t let tragedy define us?” Those words had hit her hard when she’d first heard them. It was so true, though. It wasn’t the tragedy that defined a person; it was how they handled it.
“It’s not. But…”
“You’re thinking too much,” Charlotte said. “So stop and just let whatever happens happen.” She gave her friend a smile before finishing the wine in her glass. She really should take her own advice.
“Is that what you’re doing?”
Charlotte’s hand stilled before she brought it back to her lap and clasped her hands together. “This isn’t about me. Besides, I’m a happily married old woman.”
At the look on her friend’s face, Charlotte should have bitten her lip. She needed to stop drinking. She was saying too much.
“There’s never been a place between us for lies, white or not.” Anne Marie said quietly. “Don’t start now.”
Charlotte stared at her empty glass. “You’re right. I’m not old—not yet, at least.” She stood and reached for Anne Marie’s bowl. “More ice cream?”
“Trust has to go both ways.” Anne Marie’s lips tightened before she reached for the wine bottle and stood.
Oh, that hurt. “Anne Marie—”
Her friend held up her hands. “If you’re not ready to confide, then you’re not ready. But it hurts, okay? You want to be there for everyone else but you hold at arm’s length those same people who in turn want to be there for you. There’s something going on between you and Jordan, and frankly, I’m not surprised. You are both strong team players within the community, but the cracks are there, honey. Don’t bother to deny it.”
Charlotte thought about all the things she could say, all the ways she could deny Anne Marie’s words, and she knew there was nothing more powerful, more honest and real than the truth.
“I love you, and you, more than most, see what I try to hide, but, Anne Marie, right now…I can’t.” She couldn’t go there. Couldn’t say the words to her friend. Not when she knew how much they would hurt her.
It would destroy everyone she loved if they found out her truth, and she couldn’t do that. She would do everything in her power to make sure that didn’t happen.
Anne Marie gave her a grave look, then nodded. “Okay, then. But I’m here for when you can.” She linked her arm through Charlotte’s and didn’t say anything more as they walked into the house.
Charlotte opened another bottle of wine and poured them each a glass, not ready for Anne Marie to leave yet.
“So, want to talk about what happened at Gina’s today?” Anne Marie gave her a sly glance.
Charlotte leaned her head back and rolled it, trying to release the knots.
“Do we have to?” She’d really rather not.
Anne Marie just gave her a look. Enough with the looks.
“Fine. Samantha has been after me to get a sit-down with both Jordan and myself. I told her no, that it would be just me, so she went behind my back and invited Jordan to our lunch meeting today. I…kind of lost it.” The memory of it still filled her with shame.
“I heard. From several people.”
Charlotte winced.
“What is going on with you? I would think you’d jump at the chance—it would be great publicity for both the town and the school and—”
“Jordan’s not comfortable with it.” The disbelief on Anne Marie’s face was surprising to see. “He’s had a hard time with all the hero worship,” she explained.
“But that’s what those kids need him to be.”
Charlotte nodded. “I know. He just…doesn’t like the spotlight, you know? And that’s okay. So I’m trying to honor that.” She squashed down the guilt for lying to her friend.
“And there she is. Mayor Charlotte, the town protector, the one woman who places everyone’s needs above her own. What about you, honey? What is it you need? You’ve been there, so strong and stoic for everyone in this town…who’s there for you?”
“You. You’re there for me, even when it seems I’m trying to push you away.” Charlotte reached over to give her friend a hug, needing to change the subject before she broke down and said too much.
The front door opened and then closed and Jordan’s steps carried through the hallway.
Charlotte glanced at the time, surprised that he was home so early.
“Well, look at that, my two favorite women in the same room together.” Jordan came over and placed his arms around their shoulders in an awkward hug. “My wife and my favorite baker. WhataluckymanamI.” His words slurred together, and Charlotte reeled back at the stench of his breath.
“You’re drunk.” She forced a smile onto her face to belie her confusion. Jordan never got drunk—what was up with that?
He shrugged. “Maybe. I didn’t drive home, though.”
“I would hope not.” She wrinkled her nose in disdain. “Why don’t you go have a shower. You stink.” She shoved him away, making him almost lose his balance in the process, which had her reaching out to stop him.
Her grip tightened on his arm. Hopefully he’d take the hint that she was none too pleased he came home like this with Anne Marie here. She was so embarrassed.
Jordan looked down at her hand on his arm. “Yeah, kind of ran into a few pints of beer.” He lifted the hem of his shirt and sniffed.
Charlotte glanced over at Anne Marie and gave her an apologetic look.
“I should get going.” Anne Marie set her glass down on the counter and gathered her purse. “Listen, I was thinking of stopping at Julia’s tomorrow to talk to her about using some products from her store for the gift baskets. I know you’d offered to help deliver them, so I thought we could talk to Julia together.”
It took everything inside Charlotte not to look over at Jordan.
“Julia wants to see Charlotte?” Jordan stood in the doorway, arms braced against the sides, and frowned. “She didn’t tell me that. I would know.” He nodded before pointing at his chest. “I’ve already talked to her, and my wife is the last person Julia wants to see. Trust me.” His head dropped in a deep nod. “I know things.”
Anne Marie’s brows furrowed while she looked from Jordan to Charlotte.
“Ignore him. He’s drunk.” As if stating the obvious wasn’t enough, she shot her husband a look of death, but he’d already turned and headed toward the stairs, his hand tightly gripped around the rail.
“I might have had too much to drink. It’s the truth.” He looked down on them with sadness. “See, Charlie. I can tell the truth. Even if you don’t want me to.” With a shake of his head he continued to climb the stairs while Charlotte looked on, anger and exasperation filling her.
Why couldn’t he just keep quiet? Why did he have to keep bringing this up? And why now, with Anne Marie here? All she wanted to do was bury her head in the sand and pretend everything was fine.
Some days she was so tired of pretending.
“Everything okay?” Anne Marie said quietly, her voice laced with concern.
For a brief moment, Charlotte thought about telling Anne Marie everything, or at least enough to take some of the weight from her own shoulders, but even before she went to open her mouth, she knew she couldn’t.
“It’s fine,” Charlotte said instead as she opened the door. “There’s a reason he doesn’t drink very often.” She glanced over her shoulder. “As you can see.”
“What about Julia, though? What did he mean?”
Charlotte gave an exaggerated shrug and pasted a smile on her face. “Who knows. I’d better get back in and make sure he hasn’t fallen and hit his head or something.” She closed the door and leaned back against it, her body shaking from leashed anger.
“What the hell, Jordan?” Charlotte ran up the stairs and found her husband standing in the bathroom, his shorts pooled at his feet as he stared at the shower.
“Why don’t you join me in the shower?” he asked her, the look on his face more vulnerable than she’d seen in a long time.
So many thoughts flashed through Charlotte’s mind, the first being, Hell, no, and the last being, Are you for real right now? but she didn’t say any of it.
“Have your shower, Jordan.” She said through gritted teeth. “I’ll put on a pot of coffee and we can talk.” She rubbed the back of her neck.
“Or rather you’ll talk while I listen.” He shook his head, stepped into the shower, and drew the curtain across, blocking him from her view.
Charlotte closed the door and made her way down the stairs. She was on auto-mode, going through the motions of cleaning up, drinking another glass of wine as she did so, using the French press to make coffee for her husband, all the while seething inside. She couldn’t even really gasp what she was angry about, it was a like a raging wind swept through her. She needed to calm down and she needed to do it now.
She headed outside, Buster following in her wake and she breathed in the fresh air, once, twice, three times before that raging wind subsided.
By the time Jordan joined her with a mug of coffee in hand, she had her emotions back in check.
“How much did you drink?” she asked as she tossed the ball once more.
“More than I should have on an empty stomach.” He winced.
“Well, that was dumb.” She leaned back, her hands at her sides. She watched her crazy dog throw the ball in his mouth off to the side, then run for it, grab it and throw it again. Apparently he didn’t need her to throw the ball to him anymore.
“Just one more dumb mistake to add the pile.”
“Jordan, you need to stop beating yourself up so much.”
“Maybe. Or maybe I haven’t done it enough yet.” The way he said it, with uncertainty…she knew it would take a long time for him to get to the place she needed him to be.
She remained still, looking out toward the water, and waited. Waited for…she wasn’t sure what, exactly.
“There’s something I need to tell you.” Jordan’s head bowed and his shoulders heaved.
She breathed in deep. Was she ready for whatever he was about to throw her way? She wasn’t sure.
“I went to see Julia today,” he admitted, his voice broken.
Charlotte rocked back on her heels. Nope. Not ready.
“When?”
“After I left you at Gina’s. I just…” He halted, his lips tight. “I don’t know why I went.” There was a flash in his eyes that Charlotte recognized.
“Yes, you do,” she said. There was a chill inside of her now, followed by a sense of dread.
He swallowed hard, his head shaking, before he let out a long and deep breath.
“I do, you’re right” he admitted. “I needed to apologize and to find a way to make it right.”
“Make it right? How?” Charlott
e stood and took two steps away from him, patting the top of Buster’s head as he ran to her side.
If she knew of a way to make it right, to undo all that had been done, she would grab hold and use all her resources to make it happen. But she didn’t and her heart ached knowing that.
“Charlotte? Look at me, please?” Jordan asked. No, he begged.
With her hands fisted, her fingernails dug into the palm of her hand. So many emotions were filling her right now; she couldn’t get a handle on any of them. Anger. Resentment. Confusion. Heartache. Why was she feeling this way?
What happened to the logical Charlotte? The one who could look past her emotions and handle any situation that life threw at her?
What was going on with her right now?
“How can you make it right, Jordan? How? The town - they call you their hero? To me? After telling me you hid in a closet from the boy who was your son? I don’t know how you can make any of this right.” All those emotions, all those feelings, they finally rose to the surface and tears flowed down her face as she turned her gaze toward Jordan.
“You’re mad at me, Charlie. It’s okay.” The understanding in his eyes was her undoing.
“You’re right,” she agreed. “I am mad at you. I’m furious. I’m disgusted. Embarrassed and angry at myself.” She bit her lip and then let out a gush of air. “I’m angry for not being able to forgive you, for not being able to move past this. I thought I could. I want to. We need to and yet…”
“Just say it,” he whispered.
Charlotte paced back and forth in their small yard. Just say it? Fine. If that was what he truly wanted…then she would.
“Your son”—Charlotte caught the way Jordan flinched at her words—“came into your school to confront you. You.” Her voice hitched. “But what did you do? You pushed him away. You destroyed him, Jordan. You.” Every single muscle in her body tightened from repressed anger: anger toward him, for the man he truly was. He was better than this.
“All you had to do was talk to the boy. Listen to him. He deserved that much. But instead you made a fool out of him and walked away. The reason he pulled his gun out…that’s on you. On you,” she shouted, not caring whether anyone was close by to hear. Not caring about the way her husband crouched even further, as if trying to hide within himself.
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