Saving Charlie (Stories of Serendipity Book 9) (24 page)

Still, Charlie worried.

Pauline seemed to treat every appointment like a social visit. Charlie supposed it was to put the patients at ease, and today, she actually appreciated it. Usually, she was in a hurry to get the obligated visit out of the way so she could get her prescriptions refilled. Most people balked at the idea of taking pills their entire life to retain control of themselves, but Charlie always felt a sort of anxiousness when her scripts ran low, as if she would get a case of the crazies as soon as that last pill was gone. So she religiously went to her scheduled appointments, and sat through them, like a duty to fulfill.

But today, she still felt the heaviness of the words needing to get out. And she wanted them out. Hopefully, Pauline would take the weight of them, with her glasses and her notebook.

After seating herself on the wicker furniture on the porch, and accepting the proffered lemonade, Charlie started.

“The Man’s apparently out of prison. He’s been calling me, but I didn’t know who he was, and I’ve been talking to him.” She swallowed nervously, knowing she shouldn’t be embarrassed of her actions with the caller, but she was anyway. And that was odd for her. “He was a dirty caller that I played along with.”

Pauline’s eyebrows rose, but she sat silently, waiting for Charlie to continue. “We got off with each other, but I thought he was somebody else. Now that I know who he is, I feel so dirty again. I really thought I’d gotten over all that. But he’s always made me so dirty—so dirty, I can take a million showers and only manage to lighten the shade of my skin, but the dirt is still there. It’s bone-deep, and I don’t know how to clean myself afterward. And he was there last night, so he knows where I am, and I don’t know how to process that information.” She knew she was babbling, probably not making any sense, but she was spouting words, trying to get them off her chest. To her credit, Pauline seemed to be following along.

“Are you in danger?”

Charlie shrugged. “I don’t think so. I mean, what value does a thirty-six-year-old woman have to a man like that?” Images of Les came to mind. Les pushing past Justin to kiss her possessively. Les punching that drunk guy at the wedding in the mouth. Les holding her hand after she fainted last night. Les crawling out of his upside-down truck to hug her with total abandon. Les strumming his guitar softly to chase away her demons in the motel room.

“Then there’s Les. Well, he’s a customer. But I was on my way to California and ran into him. He had an accident, and his truck was messed up, so we rode together. I spent more time with him in the last two weeks, than I have ever spent with anyone else. Ever. He wanted to come with me today.” Les would keep her safe.

Pauline just looked at her, her expression unreadable, as usual. Charlie knew she was bouncing all over the place, from The Man to Les, but Shrinkage was keeping up admirably.

“The thing is, everything that I’ve spent years getting over have surfaced again…The nightmares, Adam, my parents, The Man…All of it has come rushing back at me. And this guy likes me and is trying to get me and makes me feel safe and I don’t know what to do with that.”

Charlie watched as Pauline made a notation in her book, and then removed her glasses. “Have you actually seen The Man?”

She told her shrinkage about the banquet, and about Les taking her home and sleeping with her while her fingers fidgeted with the plant in the pot next to her, pulling out dried leaves from the dirt, sweeping them onto the table.

“So, The Man has threatened you, and Les is acting protective of you, and you don’t know what to do with that?” Charlie nodded. “Why?”

Charlie thought hard about her answer, knowing it would be the crux. “Because he reminds me of Adam.”

“In what way?”

“He wants to save me.”

“From what?”

“He knows there’s something in my past I’m not telling him. I know he wants me to open up, but I can’t tell him everything.”

“Why not?”

“Because he wouldn’t understand. He grew up in a loving household, with parents who didn’t sell him to the highest bidder. He still has lunch with them every Sunday, for Christ’s sake.”

“Okay, so he likes you. How do you feel about him?”

“I don’t know. He’s different from all of the men I’ve had sex with. He’s someone I would like to know better, but I’m not sure how to let him in.”

“What are you afraid will happen, Charlie?”

She started ticking on her fingers, “Rejection would probably be number one. I haven’t been rejected in nearly twenty years. Then there’s always the fact that he may want to be with me, but doesn’t know how, and I’ll end up hating him. There’s my business. And the Refuge. What if he wants me to stop doing the rescues?”

Pauline was the only human being she had voluntarily told about her rescues with the Refuge of Light. And the only reason she’d done it was because of the doctor/patient confidentiality clause.

“And then there’s always the ‘what if it turns out like Adam and me’?”

“Those are all valid points, and things that are reasonable to worry about. But the real question I have is this: You are twenty years older than you were when you were with Adam. What makes you think you’d act the same way? You’ve been through years of therapy, you’ve grown an incredible amount in that time, and you understand human relationships better. Why do you think you’ll treat Les the same way you treated Adam?”

Charlie chewed on the inside of her cheeks. “Because he’s so much like Adam, it’s almost scary. I mean, not in looks or anything, but other ways.”

“What ways?”

“He’s funny, and incredibly nice. He’s always helping people. He’s on the board for the Refuge of Light, did I say that?” Pauline shook her head, but her eyebrows rose almost comically. “The thing is, I just had this talk with Justin, my latest…whatever…and told him to find someone that makes him good, makes him do good…” She dropped her face into her hands, looking for words.

“Why is that significant, Charlie?”

“You know why that’s significant. I think Les does that for me, but I just can’t let go. I can’t let him in.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

A rude noise escaped Charlie’s throat. “Now you sound like him.”

“Have you had this conversation with him?” Charlie nodded. “What did he say?”

“He talks big about faith. Faith in God and humanity…I just don’t know.”

“Why don’t you open a dialogue with him?”

A tear trickled from the corner of Charlie’s eye. “Because I’m tired of hurting.”

Pauline crossed her legs. “So when you’re alone, or in one of your sex-only relationships, you don’t ever hurt? Are you better off alone?”

“No…I don’t know…sometimes.”

“Do you think everybody feels that way sometimes?”

Charlie shrugged.

“Well, you need to go to the police about the reappearance of The Man. He shouldn’t be contacting you at all.” She removed her glasses and stood. “I’m afraid our time is up, Charlie. I’m sorry about that. Do you have a better idea now of what you need to do?”

Reluctance filled Charlie as she nodded, unsure if she was reluctant to admit it or if she was reluctant to leave.

Charlie left Pauline’s with more questions than answers firing up her mind. She liked the way she felt around Les, but how much of it was great sexual chemistry, and how much of it was real feelings? If she opened up to him, who was to say he would accept her past and not try to change who she was trying to become? Who in the hell
was
she trying to become?

She came home feeling restless. Her mind refused to settle, and she couldn’t find peace in any part of her house, not even her bedroom, which she had designed and decorated to be a sanctuary for herself. When she had won the unprecedented civil settlement against The Man and her parents, Charlie had invested in herself, buying her house and starting her business. She’d furnished it simply, but with real wood antiques, more of her own attempt to establish permanence in her life. She had lovingly restored the old furniture she’d found at estate sales and bought simple, yet good-quality bedding in colors that soothed her. Some might think the dark colors would be less than peaceful, but she usually found her room calming, her own sanctuary.

Not today.

Wrapped in thoughts of self-doubt, her mind was a tumbling mass of uncertainty and fear. She couldn’t focus on any one thought to banish, so her mind whirled through thought after thought of what ifs and how comes. All wrapped in a huge layer of self-pity.

Throwing herself on her bed, Charlie heaved a sigh and cocooned herself in her blanket. It was only five o’clock, and she knew a nap this time of day was pointless, but she was ready to start over and try again tomorrow. It had been a long time since a visit to the shrinkage had sent her to bed, and she hoped her progress wasn’t regressing.

An estimated 100,000 American children are trafficked for sexual exploitation in the United States every year.

—www.refugeoflight.org

Les was unusually nervous about playing at the Gin tonight. He’d written some new stuff, and was anxious about the reaction. Mostly friends of his, the crowd was usually responsive, but these songs were different from his usual fare. He had to admit, most of his original songs weren’t really all that original, but this one came to him on the trip with Charlie. And he wanted her to hear them.

Not allowing himself to think too hard about it, he fired off a text.

L: What are you doing tonight?

He didn’t have to wait long for a response, which was good, because you can’t take those back and he’d left the ball in her court. By sending this text, he was telling her he couldn’t be trusted to leave her alone. Even though just the thought of leaving her alone was killing him. What if whoever had scared her so badly came back when she was at home alone? And what did he want with his Charlie?

C: Nothing.

He was still terrified for her. Whatever had happened last night had scared her enough to make her faint, for Christ’s sake. He wanted her with him, but she’d rebuffed him this morning. Before he lost his nerve, he responded.

L: I’m playing at the Gin tonight and would like you to come. Since I’m playing, it wouldn’t be a date or anything, just us in the same room together. No big deal.

Well, that sounded stupid. As soon as he hit send, he wanted to take it back. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t tell her what being in the same room with her did to him. He couldn’t tell her his brain quit firing when she was around. He couldn’t tell her she was on his mind every waking minute of every day. He couldn’t tell her he wanted to protect her from whatever she was scared of.

Nope. Couldn’t tell her any of that.

Les had to admit, he liked boundaries. He needed them, always had. They were clear delineations of what he could and couldn’t do. Women with no boundaries were scary. Everything is a fine until he messes up, and then it’s a screaming temper tantrum? Les didn’t like not knowing what to expect. He respected Charlie’s walls, even though they were putting a damper on the things he wanted to do with her. He wanted to talk to her, laugh with her, sit quietly and listen to music with her. He wanted to watch her dance while he played for her.

She interrupted his thoughts of what all he wanted to do with her.

C: Maybe

L: You don’t even have to stay for the whole thing.

Was he begging her? Okay, if she said no again, he would accept it. He did have some pride.

C: Okay. I’ll come for part of it. But I’m tired and want to have an early night. Probably won’t stay late.

He would take that.

L: Cool.

That was a nice understated response, right? He hoped so. But he really hoped she showed up. He wanted to make sure she was okay.

Les paid more attention than usual to his appearance as he got ready to play that night. He wore his lucky jeans, which he’d considered his ass in before he paired them with a blue plaid western shirt with pearl snaps over a black undershirt. Slipping on his black boots, he allowed himself ten minutes of tinkering with his hair before giving up on the mass of curls and slapping a cowboy hat over them. It was the Gin after all, nothing more than a honky tonk.