Blame it on Cupid (29 page)

For that one, she searched out Charlie in her room. “Do we want Green Leaf to take care of the lawn?” she asked.

“Yeah. Dad did a lot of shopping around. All they do is cut the grass once and week and trim the bushes. So they don't do everything. But it's the best price for the service.”

Okay. Par for the course, she took Charlene's word as law. But by then, it was near dinnertime, and she was struggling with fajitas. Actually, fajitas were probably easy for a normal cook, just not for her. Still, what wasn't burned was eaten by six thirty.

“Ready?” she asked Charlie. Foolish question. The kid was already barreling for the passenger seat of the Mini Cooper.

“What are we shopping for?” Charlie asked.

Merry couldn't answer. If they were going to Banana Republic or BCBG, she could have waxed on for a good hour on a potential list, embellishing as she went, but Best Buy wasn't her normal milieu. Shopping, though, was always conducive to talking, at least for females, so she'd picked the place hoping it'd be an environment that would open Charlene up more naturally.

Only she forgot about needing a cover—like an actual reason for being at such a straight place. But then a couple lightbulbs dawned. “Two things,” she told Charlene. “I think we should get a different house phone, one that lists the last number that dialed, you know? Like checks the caller ID. You can buy that kind of thing, can't you?”

Charlie sighed, looked world-weary. “Yes, Merry. Like that technology was probably around before you were born.”

“But I'm a dunce at this.”

“We know that.”

“So I need you to pick it out, okay? And while you're at it, pick out a new cell phone for yourself.”

“Me? Why?”

“Because I think it's a good safety measure to change your number now and then. I know it's a pain. But telemarketers and creeps and all kinds of people prey on young teenagers. And I thought maybe you'd like a new phone besides.”

“A new phone'd be cool. But I have to tell you, a new phone and a new number aren't necessarily the same thing,” Charlie said, in that tone communicating that educating Merry was sometimes an uphill struggle.

“Whatever. And then, since we're stuck in this place…I know you got the computers going after I messed them up the other day. But I thought, maybe you'd like to look at the new laptops out now. Or notebooks. Or whatever they're called.”

Oh, yeah. Maybe she didn't have the terminology right, but she knew girls. Charlie clearly picked up the shopping bug, the heart-pounding greed, the excitement, the anticipation, just like Merry might have for a Manolo Blahnik sale.

It wasn't quite the same, though. Because Merry barely walked in the door before enduring a quick, short panic attack. Everywhere she turned there were electronics. The only thing she recognized were the kitchen appliances and the TVs, and likely, she couldn't run half the televisions.

“Don't leave me,” she said plaintively to Charlie. Who immediately laughed.

“You're so funny sometimes. Come on. We'll have fun here.”

Yeah, right, Merry thought. She suffered through the phone choices, while Charlene took pains to explain the features of each one, apparently to make Merry feel as if she were part of the buying process. The place was crowded—who'd guess, on a school night? But kids and adults and everyone else were jamming up various aisles.

Charlene got into an infernally long conversation with a guy who had Geek Squad on his shirt—Merry wasn't going to let on, but Charlie had the instincts of a flirt, even in military gear.

Still, it wasn't until they got to the new computer area—and Merry had chased off the sales clerks, including one who tried to ask her out—where she could finally initiate a conversation with Charlene. Charlene honed on a Sony laptop as if it were cutest puppy she'd ever seen. Her head never came up again. It was true love. She kept touching keys and letting out little sounds on a par with an eleven-year-old's version of orgasmic sighs. She was in The Zone.

There'd never be a better place or time to start, Merry thought, and started in. “Charlie…I want to tell you something. Something pretty serious.”

“I don't know how you found out, but if this is about my slugging Dougall in the hall—”

“No.” Merry blinked. Dougall again. But this was no time to get diverted.

“Charl, you've said a zillion times that you think I'm going to leave. That you don't believe I'll stay.”

“Yeah, well…” Charlie didn't lift her head from the fancy Sony, but Merry saw her body suddenly go still.

Merry pulled one of the For Sale computer chairs closer to her. “Whenever you say that, I'm not sure what you want me to understand. That you kind of wish I'd leave. Or that you're afraid I'll leave and you'd feel stranded.”

Charlene whipped her a look. “I'm not afraid of anything.”

“Well, I am. Afraid of lots of things.” Merry tried to untense, but it was hard. All day she'd tried to think of a way to get through to Charlene, but this seemed to be the only one. Honesty. And since she never volunteered to bring up old, annoying, worthless baggage from her emotional basement, talking about this was inevitably hard. “In fact, that's kind of why I wanted to tell you this. When I was a girl…just turned eleven, a little younger than you…my mother took off.”

“Yeah?” Another quick glance. But this one not so defensive. “Where'd she go?”

“She was really into her career. And she got this big promotion, but she had to move to Argentina to take it. Not for forever. But at least for two years. She and my dad fought about it. But they ended up getting divorced.”

“Oh. The divorce thing.” Charlie let out a worldly wise sigh, communicating that she knew all about that.

“Yeah. The divorce thing. Anyway. I've known forever that people think…when they first meet me…that I'm kind of fluffy.”

“Merry. You
are
fluffy.”

Merry tugged on an earlobe. Every once in a while, it'd be nice if Charlie weren't quite so blunt. “Okay, I admit I've had a half-dozen jobs. And that I have a tendency to start things and then quit. And that I'm not on any kind of a career track. But there's a reason for that, Charlie.” There was also a reason she never talked about this, because spitting it all out was no fun at all. “I was really angry when my mom left. Really hurt. I felt like I wasn't lovable enough for her to stay. Not important enough for her to stay. So when I grew up, I was just determined not to be like her—the kind of person who let a job become her whole world. The kind of person who'd leave her kids, her husband, everything, just for a job.”

Charlie took her fingers off the computer keys. “I wouldn't want to be like that, either.”

“I admit, my job history looks like the record of a Mexican jumping bean. But that wasn't because I couldn't commit to something. It was because I never wanted to care that much about any one job. I wanted people to be important to me. Not jobs. Not
things.
”

“Sheesh. I get what you mean.” Charlie risked another sideways look. “Do you ever see her? Your mom?”

“Every couple years. She sends cards at Christmas, birthdays. I send cards back. Sometimes she flies in. We go out to dinner, talk. But it's like she's a stranger.”

“That really sucks,” Charlie said.

“It does. At this point, I know that the lousy relationship is partly my fault. But it's just not the same. It's always
there,
that she took off on me. The trust is broken. It's not as if I ever hated her or anything like that. I love her. But I feel really, really violently about not breaking anybody else's trust.”

“Yeah, I would, too.”

“What I'm trying to tell you…is that I'd never leave a kid. I'd never, ever abandon a child. I'm not asking for your trust, Charl, because trust has to be earned. But I told you that background, so you'd know more about who I am. I can't swear I'm the best guardian for you. I can't swear this'll work out for you. But I can swear that I won't walk out on you. You hear me?”

“Okay, okay.” Charlene'd been attentive, but Merry should have known, enough was enough of the adult talk. Still, she stood up, nudged against Merry's shoulder. “You think we could get this sometime?”

“The laptop?” Merry felt a fierce protectiveness nest in her heart. Not about the stupid computer. But because Charlene hadn't done it before. Offered a nudge. A touch. It wasn't as if she avoided every hug—and God knew, Merry was big on affectionate hugs—but Charlene had never volunteered before.

She still hadn't confessed about the mystery call from her mother. But one crisis at a time. It was worth it, spilling all that hurtful history about Merry's own mother, just to feel the squirt snuggle next to her.

“Yeah, of course I mean the laptop.”

Back to the ranch. They were talking about computers. Or, at least, Charlene was. “Sure. But not right this minute, okay?”

“I didn't think you'd just let me get it today. But sometime.”

“As far as I can tell, Charl, you're more than capable of researching what you need from a computer. If you need something like this, say. The only part I want a vote on is Internet stuff. Parental controls. That kind of thing.”

“You think I'd look at porn? Yuck.” Charlene ambled off a foot or two, poking at different computers, peering at their stickers.

Merry ambled after her. “It's not that. Adults prey on kids on the Net.”

“I'm smarter than all them,” Charlene assured her.

Before Merry could respond, a familiar voice spoke up behind them. “So what are you two shopping for?”

Merry whirled around to see Cooper. Charlene immediately started talking to him about GB and MB and capacity and sound quality. She looked past their heads, hoping to see Jack. He had to be in the store, if his son was in there?

Her pulse was suddenly gamboling like a happy puppy's. Which struck her as annoyingly silly, when sex or any private connection wasn't remotely possible here. No place on the planet could be less conducive to anything intimate or romantic or private. Still, she wanted to tell him how the lawyer's visit had gone, just
be
with him for a few minutes.

But she hadn't forgotten that Jack's son had a serious problem, too. Coop was being so kind, bending his head to talk to Charlene, making Charlene feel like his little sister—cared for, protected.

But the chitchat died after a few more minutes, and Charlene said, “Merry, can I go look at CDs for two minutes? I promise. No more.”

“Sure,” Merry said, more than happy to grab the opportunity to look closer at Cooper. He looked all cleaned up in a fresh pair of jeans and a logo tee, but his eyes were still tired, and his expression tight and tense. Something in her heart murmured
uh-oh.

“Any news?” she asked him.

He shook his head.

“Did she take the test?” Merry asked him softly.

He glanced over his shoulder, as if making sure no one else could hear, but then shook his head again. “I could really use your help, Merry.”

“How? When? What?”

“I talked her into going to a doctor. The appointment's two days from now, Friday. The appointment's about getting tested. But it's also about her getting some birth control if this is gonna happen again.” He heaved a sigh. “I said I'd take her.”

Merry cocked her head. “How? You can't drive.”

“That's why I need your help. We can get to the doctor on our own. Only it's in D.C. By our school. Which means, because Mom's still gone, that Dad would normally be picking me and Kicker up. So I was kind of hoping that you could pick Kicker and me up from D.C. that afternoon. Like say you were shopping or something, so you were already there? Because otherwise, Dad would want a reason why I was late. And I could invent something for Kicker, like that I just wanted to be with my girl, you know? But that won't work for Dad, so I need a cover.”

Her heart didn't murmur an
uh-oh
this time; it thunked like a hammer. The plan sounded mighty convoluted. And sneaky-sticky. Stickier than hot honey, in fact. “Coop, I can find a way to pick you and Kicker up, no problem. I can also take Charlene shopping or somewhere in D.C., so there'd be no reason to lie to your dad. But I think you should tell your dad what's going on. You're not even giving him a chance to help you. I
know
he'd want to be there for you.”

Those big brown eyes looked as haunted as ghosts. “I know that, too. That's not the problem.”

“So what's the problem with telling him?” Cripes, a half-dozen teenagers suddenly hurled down the aisle. The darn store was teeming with bodies. She urged him over to a quieter spot.

“It's that I don't want to disappoint him. To let him down, you know?”