Seeking Carolina (7 page)

Charlie’s gaze followed her sleigh down the Green, and up again. He counted the people still ahead of him, the number of sleighs loading and unloading.

“You want to go ahead of us?” he said to the mother and her three kids behind him. “We have to finish our chocolate.”

“You sure?”

“Go right ahead.”

“Daddy,” Tony whined as the family moved around them and into the next sleigh. “We could have gone. Everyone else has their hot chocolate on the sleigh.”

“It’s ok, Ton. We’ll get the next one. Hey,” Charlie pointed, “Isn’t that your friend Henry?

“Where?”

“On the sleigh coming up, right there.”

Tony and Millie craned their necks. His daughter scowled but his son waved a hand over his head. The sleigh carrying Henry, Gio, Ian, Julietta, some guy he didn’t recognize, and Johanna slid to a stop. Tony ran to greet his friend, his booted feet clumsy and sliding out from underneath him.

“Ho, there, little man.” The gentleman Charlie didn’t recognize scooped Tony up just as he was about to slide under the sleigh. “Careful.”

“That’s my friend,” Henry said. “Tony McCallan.”

“Pleased to meet you, Tony. I’m Efan.”

Efan offered his hand, man to man. Tony grasped it, pumping enthusiastically. “Thanks. I almost slid into horse poop.”

“That would have been unfortunate.” Efan let go of Tony’s hand to turn back to the sleigh. He offered his hand to Julietta with a chivalrous bow. “My lady?”

“Why thank you, kind sir.”

“’Tis my pleasure to assist a’wan so fair.”

“Move it along, you two.” Johanna nudged her sister from behind. Julietta stumbled forward and into Efan’s arms. Charlie noted that he did not let go of her, but held her even closer.

“Our turn,” Millie shouted, jumping up and down. Charlie offered his hand to Johanna. He, however, let go the moment her feet touched the ground.

“Thanks, Dan.” She waved to the driver.

Charlie hadn’t even noticed his friend sitting there. He murmured, “Hey, Dan.”

“Nice night for this, eh, Charles?”

“I can’t remember a better one.”

“Because there has never been one. That’s what we were just saying, weren’t we Jo?”

“Hey”—Millie pointed—“he called her Joe too.” Millie turned to Johanna. “Why does everyone call you a boy’s name?”

“Only people I knew when I was little. Jo, like Johanna. See? Like people call you Millie, but your name is Camellia.”

“How did you know my whole name? No one ever calls me it, unless I’m in trouble.”

Johanna’s eyes flicked to Charlie. “I’ve known your daddy and mommy a long time. I remember when you were born.”

“You do?”

“Very, very well.”

“Can Henry come with us?” Tony pushed between Charlie and Johanna. “Please?”

“He already had his turn,” Johanna began, but Dan waved him back in—which naturally led to Gio and Ian both begging another turn.

“Climb on in, boys,” Dan laughed. “I’ll need at least one adult, though.”

“We’ll go.” Julietta leapt back into the sleigh. Johanna opened her mouth as Efan climbed in behind her, but closed it again. After the sleigh pulled away with a whoosh and a jingle, she said, “I didn’t have the heart to tell her to give you a turn.”

“I wouldn’t have had the heart to take it.” He held up his now-cold cup of hot chocolate. “I can’t drink this stuff anymore.”

Johanna wrinkled her nose. Even in winter, she had a faint spattering of summer freckles across the bridge. “It’s just so nasty.”

“I never noticed before, until the other morning.”

“I suppose I’ve ruined you for life.” He laughed with her but Charlie’s stomach flipped at the truth she unwittingly told. She took the cup from his hand and sniffed at it. “It doesn’t even smell right.”

She wore a red, fuzzy beret like a frame around her face. Stray curls peeked out there at her forehead, her left cheek. For all her wildness, Johanna Coco could have been an angel looking up at him through those heavy lashes, for the wide innocence of her eyes, the porcelain of her skin. Charlie tried to find words, any words to fill the prolonged silence.

“Who’s the Brit?” he asked.

“Efan, Julietta’s…friend. He’s Welsh actually, but had to tone down the accent to teach here in the States.”

“He teaches where?”

“The boarding school up in Great Barrington.”

The familiar mischief in Johanna’s smile, in her eyes, flipped Charlie’s gut. He never had been able to guess what she was thinking, even when they knew one another so well they could sit for hours without saying a word. Johanna would grin that grin and anything could happen, and usually did.

“I’ll be home for Christmas. You can plan on me. Please have snow and mistletoe, and presents on the tree…”

Johanna turned to the voices singing. Charlie heard them only as sound somewhere far, far away, in a place that might be Bitterly on a December night.

“I love this one.” And she sang along, loudly. Sweetly. Swaying as if she waltzed. For a split moment, it was summer, and he was in the woods, his head on her tanned, flat belly, listening to her sing through the thrumming of her body.

“I’ll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams.” Johanna clapped with everyone else.

Charlie did not.

“Aren’t you going to sing?” she asked.

“I’d rather listen to you,” came his automatic response, and Charlie blushed like the boy he had been. “I forgot what a beautiful voice you have.”

“Ha! Never got me a part in the school play, though.”

“Because you didn’t play by the rules,” he said. “The good parts always went to the kids in chorus.”

“Chorus was boring.”

“And Stacy Kinnigan didn’t have anywhere near the voice you have.”

“Stacy Kinnigan. Oh, wow. I haven’t thought about her in years.”

“She was here for the reunion,” he told her. “She lives in Ohio now.”

“Of course she does. Ohio has to be the most boring state in America.”

“You’ve been there?”

“No.” She smiled up at him. “The name is boring. Only four letters.”

“What about Utah?”

“Fine. I see your point. So you’re saying I should visit Ohio?”

“No. It’s the most boring state in America.”

“Charlie.” Johanna shoved him playfully. Voices lifted in a rousing rendition of “Jingle Bells.” She slid her hand through the crook of his elbow. “This is fun.”

“It is.” He covered her hand with his. Their joking, these gestures—it felt right. All around them, snow and song, sleigh bells and string-lights. All around them, Bitterly. Charlie saw only Johanna. “You want to have dinner with me tomorrow night?” he asked, and again the blush too many times creeping up on him this evening burned. He held her gaze and his breath. Johanna looked up at him. Her angelic face changed from girl to woman but otherwise, exactly the same. “I’d love to, Charlie. It’s about time we caught up.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“What time?”

“How’s seven? Too early? Too late?”

“Seven is perfect.”

“Jingle Bells” had degenerated into “Batman Smells.” The band switched songs. “Silent Night.” Voices hushed and rose into the clear night. Johanna sang, softly this time, her head coming to rest against the arm she held.

Charlie fixed it all in his head, the perfection of this evening, like a snapshot lodged inside. If she vanished again for another eight years, he’d have it to pull out, to remember, to cherish. And if she didn’t vanish—Charlie’s throat constricted. His skin prickled and his body warmed—if she didn’t, he would be able to look back on this moment as the beginning of the best part of his life.

Nine Ladies Dancing

Does she know her fingers travel? That they brush unconsciously? Against that thing she hides? The thing that belonged to Florentina
—
new-wife, on her way to America? To Fiorenza
—
maiden aunt, teaching rich young women in New York City? To Fia
—
dancer, dead before her time? And to Fabrizzia
—
inventor, brought to America to work with a famous man, his love for her a secret he took to his grave? She doesn’t, of course. Always a creature of impulse, of emotion first and thought when convenient. My wild girl. My Johanna. The story changes, but the wish remains constant. A secret kept. Unclaimed. And waiting.

* * * *

Johanna rearranged all the ingredients on the counter. Again. She had enough sugar, flour, chocolate chips, butter and brown sugar to fuel CC’s for a month. But did she have enough eggs? Reaching for her phone, the locket still hidden under her shirt tickled against her skin. She pressed a hand to it, to the fluttering there.

“Relax,” she told herself. “It’s just baking with your sister’s kids.”

And Charlie’s.

She feared saying his name aloud, as if to do so would curse whatever was happening between them. Their date—not dinner with a friend—had been the kind of magical Johanna thought existed only in schmaltzy movies. They were easy together. Natural. As if they’d been together all those years yet still barely knew one another and had all the time in the world to learn.

She dialed Emma’s number, hung up again and hurried through the big house, to the front porch where her nephews were already stomping snow from their shoes. The six dozen eggs in a bowl on the counter would have to be enough.

“It smells like Christmas in here.” Emma kissed both Johanna’s cheeks. “Did you start already?”

“Just a cinnamon bundt to nibble on while we wait for cookies. It’s still warm.”

“The same one you sent up last Easter?”

Johanna nodded.

“Move aside, boys. Mama wants some cake.”

Johanna helped the boys off with their coats and hung them on the hooks behind the door. “Leave your shoes outside,” she said. “Then the snow won’t melt and make them all soggy.”

“Can I have some cake, too, Aunt Jo?” Ian asked.

Johanna ruffled his dark hair. “As long as your mom says okay.”

“Thanks.”

And off he ran through the house he obviously felt at home in. Henry was right behind him, already calling for his mother’s permission. Little Gio, only five and often left behind, was still trying to pull off his snow boots.

“Want some help?” she asked. He looked up and nodded, his lip trembling. Johanna consoled him. “Don’t worry, there’s plenty of cake. Your brothers won’t eat it all.”

Gio dissolved into tears. Johanna gathered him in and he buried his little face in her shoulder.

“Hey, buddy. What’s wrong?”

“I miss Gram.”

Johanna felt her own tears build. Since her dinner with Charlie, she’d barely thought about her grandmother, and the real reason she was in Bitterly. Gram had raised her, but the eight years being away took her out of Johanna’s everyday. For Gio, his brothers, Emma and Julietta, her death was not just sorrowful, it was earth-shattering.

“I miss her too, buddy. We all do. But it’s going to be okay. You have your mom and dad, your brothers, and your aunties who love you so much. And don’t forget your dad’s parents, and your Uncle Scott. Lots of little boys don’t have so much family nearby.”

Gio sniffed. He raised his head. “Mommy told me Gram was her gramma, too.”

“That’s right.”

“Yours too?”

“Yep. Mine too. And Aunt Nina’s and Aunt Julietta’s. She was your great-grandmother.”

He smiled then. “She was great.”

“Yes, she was.” Johanna hugged him closer. Gio, still young enough to enjoy shows of affection, snuggled into her.

“Aunt Jo?”

“Hmm?”

“If Gram was your gramma, who was your mommy?”

She tried not to stiffen, but failed for a split moment she could not take back. Her nephew didn’t seem to notice. Johanna told him, “My mommy died a long time ago, buddy.”
I think.
“But I have a picture of her. Would you like to see?”

He nodded. Johanna looked over her shoulder. She could hear Emma and Nina in the kitchen with the boys. Julietta was still in her office, working. Pulling the locket out of her shirt, Johanna clicked it open.

“See? That’s her. Carolina. She’s your mommy’s mommy.”

Gio picked up his head, looked closely. “She looks like you.”

Johanna laughed. “I look like her,” she said. “Your mom does too, a little. Don’t you think?”

“My mom?” Gio scrunched up his face. “My mom looks like my mom.”

“You’re right. She does. You feeling better now?”

“A little.”

“You want some cake?”

He smiled.

“Go on.” She nudged him and he took off down the hallway to the kitchen. Johanna groaned to her feet. All these days keeping the locket to herself was about to be revealed, and she still wasn’t ready to share it with them. Soon. Not yet. But when she reached the kitchen, Gio was face-deep in a piece of cake and her sisters barely acknowledged her arrival. More stomping on the porch sent Johanna back down the hall. Charlie’s kids came barreling in, Charlotte bringing up the rear.

“Hey, Johanna.” She slid her scarf from her neck. “Remember me?”

“Of course I do, Charlotte. You’ve grown a bit.”

“Just a bit.” She laughed. “You look exactly the same way I remember you.”

“Do I?”

Charlotte nodded. “Dad’s right. You’re as pretty as a pixie.”

“That’s enough out of you, young lady.” Charlie gently shoved Millie and Tony into Charlotte, who winked at Johanna and took them to the kitchen. Johanna pressed hands to her face. Pretty? Her eyes were too big and her chin, too small. At least her nose was properly proportioned even if it was perpetually freckled. She took Charlie’s coat from him and hung it on a hook.

“Did you really say that to her or is she teasing me?”

“She’s teasing me. But what if I did?”

“I’d say thank you.”

“Then you’re welcome,” he said. “Will’s still at work, but he’s going to come by around four, if it’s okay.”

“Of course. If anyone can manage to eat later, we’ll order from D’Angelo’s. Cookies and pizza, Julietta will be in heaven.”

She gestured him ahead of her, admiring the sway of his shoulders the way a man might a woman’s hips, and those she admired as well. Johanna let the chills shiver along her skin instead of rubbing them away.