Only Through Love: A Cane River Romance Novella (7 page)

We are not hypocrites in our sleep.
―William Hazlett

            “We’re
almost all finished in here,
sha
.” Ruby brushed back her curly white
hair and hung up the damp tea towel on the peg by the fridge. The window above
the sink was open but the kitchen was still twenty degrees hotter than the rest
of the house. “Why don’t you go let them know we’re just waiting on this next
batch of biscuits.”

            Charlie
nodded but didn’t move. She really wished she could figure out a way to escape
and skip the dinner. Her stomach felt like it had curled up against her spine,
it was so empty, but she still would take the ramen noodles over making
conversation with Austin. If only she lied more easily, she could tell Ruby she
had a head ache and had to go home. Of course, knowing Ruby, she’d insist
Charlie lay down in their bedroom with a cold rag and then would check on her
every five minutes. She was stuck. All she could hope for was kitty corner
seating, far enough apart they didn’t have to make eye contact.

            “Anything
I can do to help?” Henry appeared in the doorway and surveyed the kitchen with
wide eyes. “Goodness. You two have really worked hard in here.”

            Ruby
beamed at the compliment.  “Charlie sure was a help. I thought I’d be teaching
her but she might have taught me a few things.”

            Charlie
snorted. Ruby wasn’t fooling anyone. She had seventy years of cooking on her
side and Charlie could barely recall how to sautee the collard greens.

            “We’ve
got some hungry men out there. I hope we done made enough,” Ruby said.

            Charlie
glanced over the pan of biscuits, steaming collard greens, mashed potatoes and
gravy, a plate piled with fresh corn on the cob, pots of peach jam and chow chow,
and the long platter of blackened catfish right from the oven. “I can’t imagine
they can eat all of this.”

            “Oh,
you’d be surprised,” Henry said. “I was in shock the first time I saw Gideon
put away a plate of hash browns and country ham at The Red Hen. I think Nita
gave him more than the usual serving anyway, but he still ate it and acted like
there was room to spare.”

            Ruby
peeked inside the oven and said, “A few more minutes. I’ll go put out the honey
and butter.”

            “Let
me,” Henry started to say but Ruby waved her away. “Watch the biscuits, you
two. I’ll be right back.”

            Charlie
opened the drawer and pulled out a stack of cloth napkins. “Bix refuses to use
paper napkins.” She wasn’t sure why she offered that information.

            “Thanks
for working so hard in here. You probably would rather be home relaxing.”

            She
looked up in surprise. “No, it was real sweet of Ruby to invite me over to
cook. My parents moved to Florida last spring and…” She dropped her gaze to the
catfish on the platter. She didn’t want to say she was lonely. That wasn’t
quite right. “It’s nice to have dinner with family. They’re not, of course. Not
my family. But they’re like family.”

            “I
know what you mean,” Henry said and the look in her eyes said that she knew how
it was to be lonely for that kind of meal. It was the kind of meal where nobody
could finish a sentence and food was always being passed right under your nose.
The kind of meal where food was cooked from scratch and you were lucky if you
got seconds. Maybe the greens cooked a little too long or the biscuits didn’t
rise just right or the catfish burned a little when the cooks got chatting, but
it was better than anything out of a box. “Nice that Austin could come, too,”
Henry said.

            “Yep,”
Charlie said, eyes still on the platter.

             “He
seems as uncomfortable as you are.”

            She
grimaced. Henry had always given Charlie the impression she could see past the
words and get right to the truth. Now she knew that impression was a certainty.
“I’m sorry. It’s nothing. Just ignore us.”

            “Sort
of hard to ignore when he looks like he’s going to face a firing squad and
you’re hiding in the kitchen.” Her tone was kind. She moved out of the doorway
and leaned against the old farmhouse sink. “He’s a nice guy.”

            Charlie
nodded. Everyone knew that. It was all she heard.

            “I
haven’t known him that long, only about a year, but I know he’s one of those
people that really cares,” Henry said. “In a world where you can’t seem to
really trust anybody, he’s someone you could turn to, if you ever needed help.”

            She
looked up, frowning. Was Henry hinting that Charlie needed to confide in this
genius of counseling? There was nothing he could do, even if she wanted to
spill all her secrets. She moved across the kitchen, feeling like she needed to
see Henry’s face. The conversation from the living room filtered down the hall
and she recognized Ruby’s giggle. “It’s not what you think. I don’t have a
problem with Austin at all. Everyone has told me how amazing he is, and I
agree. He’s cute, has a great job, and doesn’t seem like an axe murderer.”                 

            Charlie
crossed her arms over her chest and went on, trying to keep the irritation out
of her voice. “That doesn’t mean that we have to be shoved together at every
opportunity. Everyone can quit with the matchmaking. Austin wouldn’t give me a
second glance. As for me, I’m completely uninterested in him. Completely,
totally,
absolutely
uninterested.” She heard a noise behind her, the
smallest sound that might be someone taking a sharp breath in irritation, or
maybe getting ready to give someone a piece of his mind. She closed her eyes.
She was pretty sure it wasn’t Ruby coming back to check on the biscuits.

            “I’ll
just go put out these napkins,” Henry said and grabbed the pile off the
counter. Brushing past Charlie, she gave her an awkward little smile.

            Turning
around, Charlie found herself with nothing to say to Austin for the second time
that evening. His hands were in his pockets but he was standing tall. She’d let
herself imagine him as a guy who had every advantage and asked for more. The
kind of guy who blocked everyone else who tried to join in the fun. A guy like
Tyler. Even thinking his name hurt, although it didn’t hurt as much as it used
to, back when he’d first broken her heart.

            “I’m
sorry,” Austin said.

            She
waited for the rest of the apology. It usually wasn’t so simple, but turned the
burden of the argument back on her.
I’m sorry you got your feelings hurt.
I’m sorry you got offended. I’m sorry you’re so sensitive.

            She
waited but he didn’t say anything more. He looked at her, regret in his eyes.

            “No,
I’m sorry,” she said. Now he’d agree with her, reminding her how she’d jumped
to conclusions and accused him of things he hadn’t done.

             “I
acted like a jerk. I shouldn’t have unloaded all of that on you.”

            For
a moment, Charlie didn’t know what to say. She didn’t remember any unloading,
just her own tears of frustration and angry words. The oven beeped and she
grabbed a pot holder from the hook. The biscuits were perfectly browned and she
set the pan on the stove top, turning off the oven.

            Slowing
turning to face him, she felt as if she were standing on a cliff’s edge. It was
silly. They weren’t pledging their undying love. She was simply going to ask
him if they could try to start over. But opening herself up, even in that most
inconsequential way, made her stomach drop. Trusting anyone, ever again, seemed
to be a monumental act of courage.

            He
spoke first. “Listen, I know everyone has been preaching at you that I’m some
kind of perfect person, but I’m really not. Just… really, really not.” He let
out a grunt of frustration. “They’ve got blinders on, all of them. They see me
as the little brother, the guy next door. But I’m just doing the best I can,
like everybody else.”

            “So,
you’re telling me you’re not perfect?”

            “No,
pas de betise
.” He raised one hand in the air like a boy scout.
No
joke.
It was odd hearing Creole coming out of his mouth. Charlie had
forgotten Austin wasn’t a stranger to Cane River.

             “Well,
that’s a disappointment. I was about to send my respects to Mama Becket for
raising up such a genius.”

             “Don’t
forget Daddy Becket for raising such a morally upstanding citizen.”

            “If
you’re not perfect, don’t tell Father Tom. Your brother thinks you’re
practically canonized. You won’t even have to die before they make you a
saint.”

            Austin
hung his head for a moment. “You can’t imagine what it’s like when everybody
thinks you’re infallible.”

            She
almost rolled her eyes but then thought of how it felt when the whole world
thought she was guilty. As many times as she tried to defend herself, the
trolls shouted her down, silencing every avenue. Soon, every friend went quiet,
afraid to be a target. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as what had happened to Charlie,
but she could see how living under those impossible kinds of expectations could
drive a person batty. Or, at least, drive them to rant at a total stranger
about their job.

            She
wasn’t sure what prompted her but she held out her hand before she thought it
through. “Friends?”

            He
took it. “We’re led little by little to the truth.”

            Her
mouth dropped open a bit. “Did you just quote Journey to the Center of the
Earth?”

             “Science,
my lad, is made up of mistakes, but they are mistakes which it is useful to
make, because they lead―”

            “Little
by little to the truth.” Charlie let her hand fall from his. Jules Verne had
written so much wisdom into his books that Charlie read them over every few
years, and each time she gleaned something new to carry with her back into the
world. Austin took one line and applied to their friendship. It had started in
mistakes, but useful ones that brought them to a real understanding. Without
those mistakes, they might never have shared more than chit chat. “I’d better
take the biscuits off the pan,” she said and turned back to the stove.

            “I’ll
carry a few bowls to the table.” Somewhere behind her she could hear him taking
the potholder off the hook and then after a few moments his footsteps faded
down the hallway.

            Charlie
paused over the biscuit pan, spatula in her hand. She was lonely. She already
knew that. And Austin was blessed with an easy manner and good looks. It was
completely natural to feel some connection to him.

            That
was what she told herself, repeating the words until she believed them, until
she forgot how she’d felt a familiar mix of emotion expanding in her chest.
Affection, yearning, the need for someone to call her own. Picking up the
spatula, Charlie flipped the biscuits into the little basket as quickly as
possible. It was simply human nature to yearn for it. Nothing more, nothing
less.

Oft a little morning rain

Foretells a pleasant day.—Charlotte
Bronte

            “I
just don’t understand what’s going on over at your old house,” Alice said as
she walked the space in front of the desk. By the Book had been busy that
morning but by the afternoon it was just the three of them.

            Charlie
didn’t look up from The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. The book was like ice
cream. Familiar, comforting, and something she dug into when she was depressed.
“Oh?” she asked, trying not to sound too interested.

            “Paul
said the new owners finally called the FBI to see if they can get all that
nonsense stopped.” She rocked Aurora from side to side as the baby fussed.

            Her
heart dropped. The FBI would make short work of the cyber-bullies. They’d also
trace the entire thing back to Charlie. “Are they sure it’s not just some
pranksters?”

            “I
don’t think it’s just a prank now. Apparently they raffled off the house for
five dollars a ticket. Made tons of money, even picked a winner. She showed up
yesterday to claim her five dollar house.”

            Charlie
looked up from her book but didn’t know what to say. The pranks had turned into
mail fraud with thousands of innocent victims and she didn’t even live there
anymore. The bullies must know that. Maybe they were hoping she was still
feeling the pain of their attacks second hand. If so, they succeeded. “That’s
terrible,” she said.

            “I
hope Aurora’s not coming down with anything,” Alice said after a particularly
loud whimper from the baby. “I was really looking forward to going out to Henry
and Gideon’s place for the low country boil tomorrow.”

            Little
Aurora turned four months old the day before and had celebrated the occasion by
fussing most of her waking hours. “I can always watch her for you two.” Dinner
at Bix and Ruby’s had been bearable, even fun at times but only because she’d
made peace with Austin, and then they’d both done their best to stay out of
each other’s way. She had no desire to go to the backyard cook out, no matter
how empty her fridge was. She was pretty sure who else would be there and most
were people she was trying to avoid.

            “Oh,
I’d never ask you to miss it. You’re young and you need to get out more than I
do.”

            Charlie
shot her a look. “You’re not that much older than I am. Plus, you and Paul need
to get out, too.” She watched them walk the floor for a moment. “Isn’t she a
little better today?”

            Alice
turned the little girl around so she was facing outward, straightening her
little shirt. It was white and read “Irony: The Opposite Of Wrinkly” in bright
blue letters.  The baby’s lower lip stuck out and her eyes filled with tears. 
“Maybe she’s bored. Maybe she’s tired of being with me all the time. Maybe she
doesn’t want to spend all her time in a bookstore,” Alice said, her voice
hushed with worry.

            “Impossible.”
Charlie flipped her book closed and came around the desk. “She needs you as
much as she needs air. Let me hold her for a while. We’ll walk over by the
window and see if we can see Mrs. Bennet. When she yowls at Miss Elizabeth,
Aurora always laughs.”

            “I
don’t want you to feel like you have to do baby care,” Alice said. Her usual
calm demeanor was edged with uncertainty.

            “Nonsense.
You know I love holding her.” Charlie reached out and plucked the baby from
Alice’s hands.

            “If
you really want―”

            “Yes,
I do. Now why don’t you make yourself some coffee and browse that new antique
book seller’s site you found. I bet there’s some Elizabeth Barrett Browning or
Edna St. Vincent Millay or someone you need.”

            “Hm.”
Alice’s eyes went a little unfocused and she started to smile. “I was hoping
they had this little volume of Christina Rossetti poetry I saw in New York City.
I walked away and regretted it ever since.”

            “Lost
hopes that leave our hearts upon the rack,” Charlie quoted.

            “Hopes
that were never ours but seem’d to be,” Alice responded. Worry passed over her
face again. “Charlie, you know you can always talk to me about anything―”

            “No,
no, it’s nothing. I just remembered that one line. I can’t hang around you for
years without picking up a few bits and pieces.” She gave a bright smile and
headed for the front of the store. Inhaling the familiar smell of old books and
Aurora’s strawberry scent, Charlie tried to push down her emotions, back into a
place where she was happy being in Natchitoches when all her college friends
were headed back to school.

            As
she paced by the front window, one hand cradling little Aurora against her shoulder
and the other rubbing her back, Charlie tried to keep her mind from what she
was missing. She’d loved her classes. The digital illustration was her
favorite, but the programming was where she’d spent most of her energy. There
had always been more to learn, more ways to create software. People thought
they were such different applications but they were both art to Charlie. A
really beautiful program could go anywhere, do anything. Her stomach twisted,
remembering how eager she’d been to show off her coding skills. She’d paid for
her pride. She and Paul and all the engineers at ScreenStop. Even Alice and the
tiny baby she was holding had suffered for Charlie’s desire to show off for her
online friends.

            She
blinked, shaking off the guilt. There was nothing she could do about it now.
Five years of projects had been lost, along with millions of dollars. She never
could have imagined the program would be used that way, but it was. All she
could do now was hope that nobody ever connected that piece of code to her.
Taking a breath, she focused on something simple, like Rossetti. That poem,
what was it called?
Later Life
, that was it. A few years ago, Alice had
gone through a Rossetti phase and would read her poems aloud to Charlie as they
waited for customers. Charlie would have preferred to organize the fantasy
section― again― but it seemed to make Alice happy when she listened
to her read. And some of the lines had stayed with Charlie, even now.

            The
early fall afternoon was warmer than the last few days and the weekend tourists
were out in force. The long riverwalk was dotted with happy couples, arm in
arm, sacks of purchases dangling from their fingers. Charlie looked into their
faces and wondered how it felt to be loved like that. Not in secret, not with empty
promises that turned to acid on the tongue.
To love and to remember; that is
good. To love and to forget; that is not well. To lapse from love to hatred;
that is hell.

            Aurora
let out a soft cry and Charlie shifted her to the other shoulder. Maybe she was
teething.  She wasn’t sure when that happened, but she’d heard parents talk
about it. As far as she could tell, it was miserable for everybody involved. Alice
seemed like she was having some sort of crisis of confidence. She was a great
mother but seemed to be second-guessing every move she made.

            Charlie
started another circuit of the front room, the sunlight gleaming against the
floor. Charlie concentrated, trying to recall anything left from the poem. It
was a prayer, really.
Shame is a shadow cast by sin, yet shame itself may be
a glory and a grace… an actual cautery thrust into the heart.
At the time,
Charlie had shaken her head at the idea of shame cauterizing a wounded heart.
Now she knew what Rossetti had meant.

            Aurora
let out a little sigh but Charlie was afraid to check to see if her eyes were
closing. She kept walking, listening to the quiet sound of the cars passing by
outside and the occasional conversation from the pedestrians. It had taken her
a long time but she saw how blessed she was to be here, in this place where
people loved her. Even if she was afraid to look even a week ahead, even if she
felt closed off from all her friends. She had survived and she was not the same
naïve girl that had given her heart and her work away so thoughtlessly.

            The
front door bell tinkled and Charlie looked up to see the one person she’d been
avoiding for months. Back when they’d first met, she had been nearly speechless
in front of Paul Olivier. Handsome, Creole, and the consummate gaming geek, he
was practically perfect. Add in his tech skills and the fact he’d built one of
the biggest programming companies in the world, and Charlie felt like she was
in the presence of greatness. As they’d gotten to know each other, she’d realized
Paul was just like the rest of the world, filled with worries and hopes, and
she’d counted him as one of her closest friends. Until she’d cut his company’s
worth in half. Now she lived in fear that he would figure out she was involved.

            He
gave her a big smile and came close, whispering, “How’s the little fussbudget?
Driving my dear wife to distraction?”

            “You
know Alice, she takes it all in stride.” Charlie glanced back at the desk.
Alice had her head in her hands, looking for all the world as if she had been
run ragged by Aurora’s crying. “Or not.”

            “You
want to hand her over? You can go have lunch or whatever you need to do.” He
stepped closer.

            “No,
I think she just went to sleep. But I bet Alice would love to get out of the
shop for a bit.”

            He
watched his wife for a moment. “It’s been hard on her, all the time I’ve spent
away. Even moving the headquarters here has me working really long hours.”
Guilt edged his words. “I never wanted her to feel alone in this.”

            “She
hasn’t said anything to me, but I don’t think she feels that way. It’s just a
little overwhelming when you can’t figure out what’s wrong.” Charlie shifted
the baby carefully until she was curled in the crook of her arm. They both
looked down at her tiny features, long lashes resting against her cheeks, little
mouth relaxed in sleep.

            “Thank
you,” Paul said, reaching out and touching Charlie’s shoulder. “She couldn’t
run this store without you.”

            “I
love it here,” Charlie said, and meant it.

            He
dropped his hand. “But she told me you’re not going back to school this term. This
is your last year. Taking a break now might mean you never go back.”

            She
froze, unsure of where to look or what to say.

            “Were
you having trouble? You know you can always come to me for help with your
homework.”

            Charlie
nodded. She never wanted to be one of those people that name-dropped all their
famous friends. Nobody liked that kind of person. Even worse was working with
someone who thought they knew everything because they had smart and powerful
friends. “Everything was… going okay.” Until it had gone all wrong.

            He
seemed to want to say something but instead he put his hands in his pockets and
stared at the floor.

            “I
liked my classes,” she said, wincing inside at the lame comment.

            “Did
you? I know there aren’t a lot of women in programming and especially in
gaming. Even the nicest professors have some built-in biases. It can wear you
down, especially if you’re trying to forge a new path.”

            Charlie
hadn’t been trying to trail blaze. She’d been playing it safe, really. As much
good as it did her.

            Paul
looked past her to the riverwalk and the people outside. “I grew up on the
other side of the river, with just my mom in a little shack that probably
should have been torn down. I know it was easier for me than it is for you once
I hit college and could blend in, but I really struggled in high school. A lot
of people just assumed I wouldn’t make anything of myself. There were very few
people on my side, hardly anybody who actively worked to help me get out of
Natchitoches. My guidance counselor gave me applications to the local hardware
stores.”

            Charlie
remember him saying something about growing up poor. She could see it in his
eyes. Once a fighter, always a fighter. You don’t ever let go of the
stubbornness that gets you to success.

            “I’ve
got some openings at the new headquarters. I know you’re not finished with
school, but if you’re serious about taking a semester off, we could use someone
like you. We’ve got lots of projects in the beginning stages.” He didn’t have
to explain why there were so many just starting and not many in the final
stages. A Trojan horse virus had stolen everything of value six months ago.
“You’re one of the best new programmers I know. You could work remotely, or
come in to the office, either way. And you’d make a good salary.”

            Charlie
couldn’t believe it. Her whole life she’d dreamed of working at ScreenStop as a
developer. She loved everything about the company and its products. It was her
fantasy job. And to be offered a position before she even graduated was beyond
anything she could have imagined. She was desperate to accept. It would solve
so many problems, including the fact she was a week late on her rent. Then she
thought of how Paul would look at her when he found out what she’d done. “Thank
you, but I couldn’t. Real programmers with real computer science degrees want
those jobs. It wouldn’t be fair.”