Only Through Love: A Cane River Romance Novella (8 page)

            “Who
cares about fair?” Paul let out a laugh. “Andy and I built this company from
the ground up. We hire who we want to hire. If you’re worried about being the
only woman, we’ve been actively recruiting women for the past six months. We’ve
hired forty female programmers, luring some away from established positions
because we want to have a more balanced workplace.”

            Charlie
blinked. “Is that fair to the men?”

            The
smile faded from his face. “Interesting question. Do you think it’s unfair for
them to have to work with women?”

            “Well,
no, it’s just that they worked hard to get where they are, too.”

            “Yes,
most of them have. And most of them excelled in an environment that assumes
everybody wants to create a male-centric world of gaming. They’ve risen to the
top in an area of science that is often openly misogynistic. The guys that
apply sometimes mention in the interviews that they don’t think women quite get
the gaming world, or the games.”

            She
sucked in a breath.
You just don’t get it. You can’t. There’s no way to
learn it. You either get it or you don’t.
In a world where marketing was so
important, she’d started to believe that she was good at being “bilingual”,
understand the male gamer needs and desires. She’d learned to produce projects
that appealed to men, because that’s where the money was, they said.

            “Do
you believe that, Charlie? Because if you do, I feel like I’ve failed
somewhere.”

            She
sighed. “You remember when I went to the ComiCon in Atlanta last year?”

            “Sure
do. You went as the Archer’s Apprentice, I think.”

            “A
guy in front of me on the subway was some sort of book agent. He said he didn’t
even look at a submission if it the main character was a girl. He said they
didn’t sell.”

            “Well,
he’s an idiot.”

            “I
know that.” She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to organize her thoughts.
“I almost butted in to list all the science fiction books with girls, starting
with Friday by Heinlein and all the way up to The Hunger Games but I was just…
too tired. You know? I was tired of arguing about it. I didn’t think I could
change his mind and I’d tried to convince people before and it just led to a
lot of useless debating. Nothing ever changes.”

            Paul’s
voice was soft. “You don’t have to change the world, Charlie. Not all by
yourself.  I think we can take real steps forward, like the recruiting, that
changes the culture and the environment, which brings out more creativity and
cooperation.” He paused. “I sounded like Andy there for a minute, but I mean it.
We can change, we
are
changing.”

            “I
know. It’s not that I don’t think it’s possible. It’s that I don’t think I’m
the person for the job. Not now.”

            He
didn’t say anything for a long time. “I want you to know I’m on your side. If
you count anybody on your side, make real sure you count me, too.” Every line
of his face showed his earnestness. “Always. No matter what.”

            Her
eyes started to burn and she half-turned away, embarrassment and shame flashing
through her. He was offering his power and his voice. More than anything else,
she needed an advocate, someone who would stand beside her and fight for her.
But Paul couldn’t be that person. She would have to tell him the whole story,
and although he promised there was no limit to his support, she knew just the
point where he’d step back from her.

            “Thank
you,” she managed. “And you should go take Alice out to lunch. I think she
needs a break.”

            He
stood there for a moment more and gave his daughter a kiss before walking away.
Charlie took a deep breath. You never know how much you treasure your friends
until you have to let them go. It seemed like the past six months all she’d
done was let go of every friend, online and in person.

                                                            ***

            Austin
scribbled a few more lines and then stacked the forms to one side. He hated
paperwork more than he hated doing laundry and he really hated doing laundry.
The only bright spot in his day had been the delivery of the shelves for the
new lending library. The kids had been asking questions already, giving
recommendations and discussing their favorite books. He’d taken a few notes and
smiled, thinking of how pleased Alice would be when he told her. Getting books
into the hands of readers was more than a job for her; it was a life’s work.

            They
needed a few more boxes of books and he’d half-expected Charlie to bring them
over sometime this week. Dinner at Bix’s house had been wonderful. Good food,
great friends, his brother and sister-in-law, and Charlie. She’d seated herself
at the opposite end but he couldn’t help watching her as they talked. He loved
her smile, her laugh, and especially that solemn look she got when she was
listening hard to what someone was saying. Conversation was a lost art these
days. Everyone was distracted by their phones and their music. He saw families
at dinner, the parents tapping at screens, the kids plugged into devices,
nobody interacting. He wondered how lonely those kids were, how distant the
spouses felt, and how many secrets were hidden behind those glazed looks. Charlie
gave you her full attention, and as disconcerting as it was, it thrilled him. She
was there, present.

            He
didn’t have any other appointments that day. Maybe he would pop over to By the
Book and pick up the boxes himself. Austin smoothed down his shirt, wishing
he’d worn a tie. Then he caught himself in the half-formed idea. In the
kitchen, Charlie had told Henry she wasn’t interested at all, in any way. They
hadn’t even been friends then, but he knew better than to assume anything had
changed since then.

            After
popping into Cora’s office and making sure he wasn’t needed at the center for a
few hours, he headed for By the Book. For the first time since he’d move to
Natchitoches, Austin felt a sense of optimism. He didn’t have to live up to any
expectations with Charlie. In fact, he’d already dug himself a hole and he
could certainly work on digging himself out.

It is a characteristic of wisdom
not to do desperate things. ― Thoreau

            Austin
pushed open the door to By the Book and felt his anxieties start to fade away.
There was something about the old bookstore that reminded a person there was
more to life than punching the clock, fighting for a promotion, and bringing
home a paycheck. Much more than trying to put your best foot forward, to never
disappoint your family,  and to hide all the skeletons in your closet. There
was a treasure on these shelves, available to anyone who took the care to look.
It seemed as if the real world wasn’t outside those glass windows at all, but
rather in here, between dusty leather covers.

            As
he started across the foyer, he didn’t notice Charlie at first, then a small
sound drew his gaze. She was slumped in the red overstuffed armchair near the
front door, wearing an old green sweatshirt and jeans. She was watching him,
curiosity in her dark eyes. He wondered for a moment why she didn’t get up but
then he saw the little person tucked against her. Of course Charlie would have
stood up for a customer but Austin wasn’t a customer. He lived upstairs.
Changing course, he walked toward her. She put a finger to his lips and he
nodded.

            “Alice
went out to lunch with Paul. Can I help you with something?” she whispered.

            “I
was wondering if she’d chosen any more books for the lending library,” he said,
feeling awkward for bringing it up. It sounded too eager to wait for Alice to
decide which books she was willing to bring to the center, when in actuality he
had simply wanted to come visit Charlie. He felt his face warm and jerked a
thumb toward the back of the store. “Don’t get up. I’m just going to go browse.
Alice thinks I play Ultimate Voyager all night but I do read, especially after
a hard day at work.”

            The
corner of her mouth pulled up. “Looking at these stars suddenly dwarfed my own
troubles and all the gravities of terrestrial life.”

            “H.G.
Wells,” he answered. “I never thought about it that way. Maybe I love science
fiction because it takes my mind of my own troubles.”

            “I
think all reading is that way,” she said and started to sit up. He held out a
hand and for a moment she stared at it, confused.  Then she grasped it, letting
him pull her straight out of the chair without disturbing the baby.

            “She’s
utterly beautiful,” he said, peering closer.

            Charlie
cocked her head. “Men don’t usually gush over infants.”

            “Don’t
they? Am I gushing? I don’t think I really noticed them until my cousin Emily
had her little boy. We came to visit them in the hospital and he was so…” He
held out his hands about six inches apart. “But it wasn’t just his size. I kept
looking at my cousin, then at this little human, and couldn’t believe she had
grown him inside her, so perfectly, so completely.” He looked up, hoping that
didn’t sound lame. There was something about Charlie that made him say the most
ridiculous things.

             “I
always thought babies were the combination of two people, but then I met Aurora
and realized how she’s her own person. Even inside Alice, she was dependent but
completely separate, all her own DNA, fingerprints, blood type. It’s mind
boggling.”

            “We’re
an impossibility in an impossible universe,” he said.

            “Ray
Bradbury,” she said, and laughed, a sound of such loveliness that he stopped for
a moment, surprised that he was the cause of it.

            “I
have more,” he said, hoping for another laugh.

            “Alice
quotes a lot of old poetry. I really miss talking science fiction with
someone.” As soon as the words were out her mouth her smile started to fade away.

            Maybe
she thought he would assume she wanted to make it a regular conversation. He
didn’t mind, but apparently she did. Of course she hadn’t meant him,
personally. “I bet you miss your college friends. Gideon told me you’re taking
a semester off.”

            She
was glaring now. “I didn’t realize my school schedule was such a topic of
curiosity.”

            “I―
no, he just mentioned― because Alice told Henry, who said to…” His voice
trailed off as he realized it sounded as if they were gossiping about her.

            If
she could have shot death rays from those dark eyes, he had no doubt she would
have. She clutched Aurora to her like a shield. “I don’t have to explain my
choices to anyone.”

            “You
don’t. I agree.” He wished he could go back two minutes to when she was
laughing and not angry with him.

            The
fight seemed to go out of her. “I’m sorry. I don’t need to be snippy with you.
You’re not the root of the mess.”

            He
wanted to ask who that unlucky person was, but he was too relieved it wasn’t
himself. “It’s okay. No problem.” This was the moment all his studying came
into play. She was clearly in seven different kinds of pain. He should ask
probing questions, ask her to sit down and tell him the whole story. He
couldn’t seem to open his mouth. She deserved someone who could really help
her, not a parrot.

            She
met his eyes and he could see a struggle there in her gaze. Uncertainty, fear,
desperation, and finally courage. “I know you’re off the clock…”

            Here
it was. She was going to tell him the tragedy that had happened and he wouldn’t
really know how to help. “Not for you,” he said. “There’s no clock for you.”

            Smiling
a little, she straightened her shoulders. He had a fraction of a second to pray
for wisdom and then she said, “I need your help.”

            “Anything.”
He wouldn’t dare say that to most of the people he met. They were takers who
reveled in getting as much for free, as often as they could. Very few people
struck him as so independent that they’d rather suffer in silence than ask a
stranger for help.

            “I
can’t pay my rent,” she said.

            For
a moment, he couldn’t quite process the words. He’d been expecting a tale of
love gone wrong, school issues, or even generalized anxiety that left her
afraid to leave her dorm.
Rent.
His brain took a few seconds to switch
gears. “We have several emergency aid funds available through a community
resource program. I can bring the forms―”

            “I
don’t want Alice to know.” Her cheeks had gone dark but she met his gaze
steadily.

            “Okay.
You can fill them out at the center. It takes about a week to process the
papers. They’ll need a bank statement, renter’s agreement, the landlord’s
address, and the amount.”

            “I
can do that.”

            “What
about food? Do you have groceries?” When people couldn’t pay the rent, they
usually couldn’t pay the rest of their bills, either.

            “I…”
He could see her struggling. She looked out the window at the people on the sidewalk,
tourists busy with their shopping trips, families headed for lunch at The Red
Hen café down the street. He was used to dealing with people who had been poor
for a long time, even coming from generations of poverty. It wasn’t any easier
to take the charity, but they got used to asking. They put away their pride and
jumped through the hoops, filling out forms and waiting for approval.

             “Charlie,
we just met. We’re barely friends. Don’t think of me as Gideon’s brother. Ask
for what you need.” He considered for a moment. “Or you could talk to Cora, if
that would be easier.”

             “The
gas is so expensive and the only apartment I could find is way over across the
river. I was doing okay with a roommate before I moved but I just can’t make it
on the part time job here. I asked Alice if I could stay on, but I feel strange
being here forty hours a week when there’s not that much to do. Of course she’d
pay me whatever I need, but I’d have to explain why I needed the money. My
parents would help me but they’d ask where my savings went. I’ve been looking
for another but I need something close.” Her tone was defensive and sad.

            Something
had definitely happened, something bad enough to leave her broke and ashamed to
tell anybody.  Except for him. “I’ll bring the food stamp forms, too. We’ve
also got a job center where you can go through the positions available.”

            “Thank
you.” There was such relief in her tone that he wanted to reach out and fold
her into his arms. How long had she been carrying this worry? And why wouldn’t
she ask Alice and Paul for help? Then again, he understood how complicated
relationships could be. His brother was a priest whose job was to counsel the
troubled and he couldn’t seem to ask him for advice.

            For
a long moment they stood there, smiling shyly at each other. Then she glanced
away. “I should go…” He wasn’t sure what she was going to say. There were no
customers and there wasn’t much she could do with the baby in her arms.

            “I
won’t bother you anymore. I’ll go lurk in the science fiction room.”

            “It
doesn’t get many lurkers these days. The poetry section gets a lot of action,
though.”

            “Alice
has them convinced Langston Hughes is better than Heinlein. Maybe I’ll get one
his collections and find out she’s right.” He was just turning away when he
thought of something more. “Do you need a ride down to the center? I’m headed
back to the office in a little while. I can wait for Alice and Paul to come
back then give you a ride.”

            She
chewed her lip. “But what will we tell Alice? Won’t it be odd for you to take
me along?”

             “Let’s
organize the lending library. We’ll pick out some books, and you’ll come with
me to help set it up.”

            “I
think that will work.” From the moment he’d met her, Charlie seemed like she
was carrying a burden. Worry, irritation, sadness. Some of that seemed to be
fading away. Not all of it. Some. And that made him unbelievably happy.

                                                            ***

            Charlie
looked out the passenger seat at the passing streets and thought of how much
her life had changed in one day. Less than a day, really. Early this morning
she was staring at a PopTart for breakfast and now there was a chance that soon
she might be able to buy some fresh food for cooking. The woman who helped
direct people to different assistance programs had said there was even a voucher
to the local farmer’s market. The rent that was due two weeks ago would likely
to be paid as soon as her application was approved. It was the hardest decision
she’d made in a long time but if it meant the difference between getting
evicted and living in her gas-less car, or asking a state agency for help, she
was glad she’d asked for help.

            Looking
at Austin, she realized how easily it was to be quiet with him. Most of her
life, she’d gauged the attractiveness of a guy on how much he made her laugh,
or whether he kept her attention in a world that came with 3D graphics and moved
at the speed of light. With Austin they could talk, or not. While they stacked
the new books in his office, they’d exchanged recommendations for favorite
authors and then lapsed into silence. It hadn’t felt awkward at all. In some
ways he reminded her of Alice, who could talk for hours about her favorite
books, but then just as easily move about the store without saying anything at
all.

            He
glanced at her, one brow raised and too late, she realized she’d been staring.
“Okay?”

             “Okay.”
Then she laughed.

            “John
Green,” they both said at once.

            “I
liked that book,” Austin said, eyes back on the road. “I know a lot of people
hated it because it didn’t have the happiest of happy endings but it was pretty
genius to me.”

            “Some
infinities are longer than others,” she quoted, agreeing. “It changed the way I
looked at love, at friendship.”

            He
turned onto the bridge to cross the river. The water flowed underneath, the
surface hardly rippling. “And before?”

            She
looked across the bridge to the far bank, remembering how the only time she’d
crossed this bridge was to go to the mall, never thinking of the people who
lived in apartments and modest houses near the industrial section. “Before… I was
shallow. I was easily impressed by power, famous friends, any show of
popularity.”

            “I
think we all are.”

            “No,
not everybody.” Not Alice. Or Paul.

            “You’re
too hard on yourself,” he said.

            “You
don’t really know me.”

             “I
know you enough to know that.”

            Shrugging,
she looked out at the familiar neighborhood. The historical section was miles
long and the old buildings were as familiar as her own hand. She wanted Austin to
think the best of her but then she’d be right back where she started, hiding to
make someone like her. “What if I told you that I hurt people close to me, just
so I could impress someone else?”