Chapter Ten
February
Carly had meant to tell Chuck no on Sunday night.
And she meant to tell him no again on Monday night, then Tuesday night. . .
It had been entire week of her meaning to tell him that no, she couldn't see him the next day. An entire week of saying yes instead.
She had managed to tell him she was capable of studying on her own when he offered to quiz her.
Which is why Chuck was at her house after dinner Thursday night, sitting next to her on the couch, going over some report for work while she studied.
Rhiana and Sean came running into the living room, and Rhiana asked, "Mom, after dinner, could me and Sean go to the basketball game at school? I bet we can get Mrs. Williams to give us a ride home if you don't want to come get us."
"Seton says he's going," Sean added.
"What time does the game start?" she asked, her plan of hibernating with her books evaporating before her eyes.
"Eight," Rhiana said. "We'd be home before nine-thirty. And it's not like we're staying out late just to stay out late. We're going to support our school."
"Or I could just run you two down to the school, then pick you up when it's over," Chuck offered.
"Really? Thanks, Chuck," Sean said. "Can we, Mom?"
"That way, if Chuck takes us, you can study." There was more than a hint of wheedling in Rhiana's voice. "All my friends are going."
"Sure," Carly said. That's all the kids needed to hear. They both took off up the stairs. "You made their night. But really Chuck, I can take them."
"Why get all bundled up to drive them a few blocks? Put your nose back in your books. I've got it."
She hesitated, but finally nodded. "Thanks."
"Any time." He paused. "I can go home in between, or . . . "
She recognized that or. Or he could come back and they could enjoy having the quiet house all to themselves.
She looked at her books and knew that she should study for her boards.
Then she looked at Chuck.
"How long will it take you to get back from Erie Elementary?" she asked with a grin.
"A lot less time than you think."
He gave her a kiss that was a mere appetizer for what was to come, and abruptly pulled away as the kids came thundering down the stairs.
Carly looked at her books again.
Somehow she'd figure out how to get it all done.
She always did.
" . . . AND THAT'S BEEN MY two weeks since our last meeting," Carly wrapped up at the PTA social planning meeting the next night.
"Wow, you have been busy," Michelle said.
"And by busy, she means buuusssy," Samantha teased.
Carly chuckled. "I know it sounds silly. I have two kids, so it's not as if I was in any way virginal, but that first night at the hotel felt so different because I took charge. I got the room. I made the moves. I feel as if I'm liberated, somehow."
Michelle passed her a tray of Romolo chocolates. Carly picked a small square and was delighted to find what was inside. "I love caramel." She sighed contentedly. "Do you ever have a moment in your life where everything seems to be going so perfectly that you can hardly stand it?"
"Caramel pushing you over the perfect edge?" Samantha took a chocolate. "Mint. I like mint."
"Caramel is just another indication of how well my life is going. My kids like Chuck. Chuck likes me and doesn't mind being my boy-toy. As a matter of fact, he's made it abundantly clear that boy-toyness is all he aspires to. And if everything goes according to plan, I'll have a date for the Valentine's dance—which is right on track, planning-wise—before we break up."
Carly ignored the memory of Bob saying she was in love with Chuck. Bob didn't know her. He had no way to assess how she felt.
Michelle and Samantha did know her, and both of them seemed convinced that the only thing Carly wanted from Chuck had nothing to do with love.
"Planning to break up doesn't sound very perfect to me," Michelle said.
Carly shook her head. "You're young and still in that initial glow of first love. Me? I'm older and jaded. A boy-toy with an upcoming expiration date is exactly what I need."
"That's what I thought with Harry. The fact he was an interim principal was perfect . . . until it wasn't." Samantha offered her a sage smile, as if she knew some secret that Carly didn't.
And if Samantha did know some secret, Carly didn't want to know it. "Well, Chuck's not leaving. He's just not the serious kind. And that's what I want. I want to be on my own. I don't want to fade into the shadow of another man's life."
"You want to find your own color," Michelle said.
Carly was surprised she remembered that off-the-cuff comment she'd made weeks and weeks ago. "Yes. I want to find my own color. I'm standing on my own two feet. So knowing Chuck and I are temporary is perfect."
"Although a second dinner with his family doesn't sound very temporary—" Samantha started.
Carly interrupted. "It's nothing. Besides, there was no way to say no—his mom's so nice."
"As long as you're happy." Michelle still look worried.
Samantha nodded, but didn't look overly convinced. "How goes the studying for the boards? Need some help?"
"I haven't studied as much as I'd hoped," Carly admitted.
She wanted to. But every night Chuck had shown up with dinner or for dinner. And then they'd both do whatever the kids needed. Homework, a game, or watching a show on television. Then the kids would go to bed, and she'd spend an hour or two with Chuck just talking. About their days. About their plans. About their pasts.
"I'm sure I'll find more time next week. I've pretty much finished all the Valentine plans. So, we're good there. Now onto the important business. How about the wedding plans, Samantha?" Carly asked, mainly to get them off her back about Chuck. She knew that one simple question would lead to a discussion that could easily last the rest of the meeting.
"Uh, I have a bit of an announcement," Michelle interrupted. "Daniel and I set our date. The second Saturday in July. I was hoping you'd both be my maids of honor."
Carly was happy for her friend, and joined Samantha in hugging Michelle. But seriously, how much romance was she expected to survive? Valentine's Day, Samantha's wedding. Now Michelle's?
And as Samantha and Michelle waxed poetic about their upcoming weddings, Carly tried to keep smiling. She didn't want her lack of enthusiasm for weddings, or her lack of belief in happily-ever-afters to rob her friends of some of their joy. They both deserved their days.
Even if Carly didn't believe they could last forever.
When Michelle had asked about her color, Carly thought about how many times she'd started to say no to Chuck, and ended up saying yes. Maybe it was happening again?
Was she losing herself?
The thought scared her.
CHUCK WAS BORED.
He'd cleaned and done his laundry, and even read an old report. He glanced at the clock.
It was only eight. There was no way Carly was back from her PTA meeting yet.
And because he didn't think he'd be able to sit still long enough to watch a television show or movie, he decided to start painting the foyer. He pulled everything off the wall, and spackled the holes.
Eight forty-five.
Carly might be home. He dialed, hoping that if she was home, she'd invite him over.
Maybe he'd invite himself. "Hello, Lewis house."
"Hi, Sean. It's Chuck. Is your mom home yet?"
"I knew it was you," Sean said with laughter in his voice. "She just came in."
Without covering the phone, Sean yelled, "Hey, Mom, it's Chuck."
"She said hang on a minute while she gets her coat and boots off. It's snowing hard."
"Yeah, I noticed."
"Me and Rhi were going sled-riding tomorrow. Wanna come?"
Before Chuck could answer, he heard the phone being jostled and Carly said, "Chuck."
There wasn't any hint of pleasure in her tone as she said his name. "Listen, maybe we should have a talk, but first, how was the PTA meeting?"
"It was fine. And I'm not sure what there is to say."
He was worried now. Carly's words were clipped. "I thought maybe we all could—"
"Chuck," Carly interrupted, "my boards are a week from tomorrow. I really have to study."
"Okay. No problem. Actually, tell you what. I know Dean still won't have the kids. So, why don't I come get them tomorrow afternoon. Sean mentioned sledding, or I could take them to see a hockey game or something. That will give you the house to yourself so you can spend some serious alone time with your books."
"I don't need you to take the kids. I'm perfectly capable of—"
"There's no doubt in my mind that you can handle it all, Carly. But I like your kids. I think they like me. Or I could take them to the station. You know Sean would go nuts. Rhiana probably wouldn't admit it, but she'd like it, too."
He heard her long sigh over the phone. "Sure. I guess."
"Is something wrong?"
She hesitated. "No. No. I'm just tired."
"Well, get some sleep. Have the kids ready around eleven."
"I will."
Before he hung up, he said, "No matter what you say, I know something's wrong. I'm here if you want to talk."
Maybe Dean was giving her more grief. Maybe. . .
He wasn't sure of the cause, but he hated knowing that Carly was upset about something. And that she wouldn't confide in him.
"Like I said, I’m just tired. I'll see you around eleven tomorrow."
Chuck heard the dial tone before he could tell her good-night.
SATURDAY, WHILE CHUCK had the kids, Carly tried to study.
Tried was the operative word because concentrating on her notes and textbooks was hard when her mind kept circling back to what Samantha, Michelle, Mrs. Jefferson and even Bob, the fireman, had said.
All of them thought there was something more between her and Chuck than a temporary relationship. Something more than a fling.
And that's the last thing she wanted.
Carly had gone into her relationship with Chuck insisting it would be casual. Easy. No messy feelings or relationship stuff.
The idea that it was anything more frightened her.
So, when Chuck brought the kids home and asked about dinner, she made study excuses.
She waited for him to push.
To insist.
Instead he kissed her cheek and said, "Cram away. Call if you need me."
She didn't call.
He did on Sunday to see if they wanted to do anything, but she sent him to his mother's on his own.
By Thursday, he hadn't even called. Which should have made Carly feel better, but it didn't—she felt worse.
She took Friday off from the hospital and spent the day before her boards cramming, trying to be sure she had an answer to every possible question.
Her mind was filled with emergency triage policies, cardiac procedures and rapid sequence intubation. Potential questions circled round and round.
And yet one question kept coming back to the forefront of her mind, no matter how she tried to block it—what about Chuck?
"SHE PRACTICALLY DUMPED ME," Chuck told Anderson on the Saturday of Carly's boards. He'd called to wish her luck, but Rhiana'd said she'd already left. He had a sneaky suspicion she'd been there, waving her hands, indicating that Rhiana should fib. "There's no subtlety to it, either."
He and Anderson were at George's again for breakfast.
Anderson took a sip of his coffee. "When I think Carly Lewis, subtle isn't the word that comes to my mind. She's about as subtle as a brick through a window." He paused, then added, "Match to a couch better yet."
"Okay, so why doesn't she just tell me? Talk to me?" Chuck stabbed at his plate with far more force than separating a bite of scrambled eggs required.
"I think the better question, to my way of thinking is, why do you care?"
Anderson's question caught him by surprise. "Huh?"
Anderson leaned back in the booth and took another sip of coffee. "You've dated a lot of women since I met you, Chuck, and although you're generally the one to break things off, I know various women have dumped you first, so why do you care if Carly does the dumping? If it wasn't her, it would be you eventually. Given her recent past, it seems kinder to let her be the one to end things."
"But I'm not ready for things to end."
"Again, why?"
"I like her. I have fun with her."
Anderson raised an eyebrow and Chuck easily interpreted the look. "No. I mean, yes, sex was fun, but it was more than that. I genuinely enjoyed being with her no matter what we were doing. Hell, I even liked her kids, and I never imagined I'd be the kind of guy who would find hanging out with two seventh-graders a good time."
"You haven't really answered my question. You've skirted around the answer, but haven't quite hit it. Let's come at it from a different point of view. Remember Patty?"
"Yes."
"You liked her. The two of you had tons in common. But when she broke things off, you didn't flinch. When she started dating that other cop, it didn't bother you in the least. What if I were to say I was thinking about asking Carly out?"
Chuck didn't say a word; he obviously didn't have to because Anderson set down his coffee mug with a clunk and started laughing. "Chuck, answer the question. You've liked other women, had fun with them, and been totally okay with it when they ended it. So, why is Carly Lewis different?"
Chuck didn't spit out an answer this time. He pushed his eggs around on his plate, and thought about it. Why was Carly different? She made him laugh. She frustrated him.
In Carly he'd found someone he didn't have any urge to break up with—someone he didn't want to break up with him.
In Carly Lewis he'd found someone he could love.
Maybe he already did.
He wasn't sure when it had happened.
But the thought of losing her, of not seeing her, left him feeling more frozen than Erie in February.
"Other women have all become too possessive, too needy."
"That's not a problem with Carly," Anderson pointed out.
"And she didn't berate me when I had to work."
"A nice trait, too."
"I'm not sure where this is going with Carly. Though I think I know where it could lead. I'm not sure yet."
"It's awfully soon to be sure about anything other than you're not ready to lose her."
Chuck pushed his plate back. "I should probably go talk to her."
"Probably."
"I'll go now." He patted at his jeans pockets for his keys.
Anderson set down his coffee cup and stood, then dangled his keys in front of Chuck. "I drove, remember? I can take you home."
"No, just take me there."
For once Anderson didn't needle Chuck. Chuck was silent, too, as they drove the short distance to Carly's, other than giving the address. Anderson pulled up in front of her house. Chuck looked at his brother-in-law. "Thanks."
"Do you think she's done with her test?"
"It's ten now, and the test was at eight, so if she's not, she will be soon. The kids will let me wait inside."
"Okay. I'll hold on to see that someone lets you in, then go."
Chuck nodded as he got out and made his way to the front porch. He hadn't thought this through. Hadn't weighed what something as monumental as maybe falling in love meant to him.
Because what came next, what mattered was that he tell Carly that he wanted more time.
And what really mattered was that she was willing to give it to him.
He knocked and tried to feel confident about Carly's reaction to his revelation. Sean opened the door. "Is your mom home yet?"
"Mom," Sean bellowed and turned around, leaving the door open as if he expected Chuck to come in and shut it.
But Chuck didn't go in. He stood, waiting for Carly.
Carly must have been home for a while because she'd changed into sweats. "Chuck, what's up?"
What he meant to say was, I don't want to break up yet. I think maybe what we have could be something lasting.
Instead he blurted out, "I love you," without preamble or explanation. "I don't want this to be a fling."
She stood inside the house.
He stood outside.
Her expression didn't soften and get that warm, mushy look he'd seen her give the kids. Instead, she looked mad. No, not just mad. Pissed.
And he knew—knew what her response was going to be.
"No. That was not our deal. You're the one who told me that you don't do this kind of thing. You quit women who want—" she hesitated and then said "—that."
"Love, Carly. You can say it."
She shook her head. "I can't do this. I can't give you what you want."
"What have I ever asked you to give but yourself?"
"That's the problem. If you insisted, if you wheedled. If you put your needs first, I'd know how to deal. But you don't. You didn't. You ask. If I say no, you let it be. You brought me dinners because I was studying. You drove my kids to games so I could study. You folded a load of towels last week. You . . . you bought me highlighters."
"They were different neon colors . . . I thought with all the studying, you'd like them."
"I did," she said, though her expression didn't show anything remotely pleased. "It was thoughtful. Considerate." She looked angry all over again. "Damn you, Chuck. This was supposed to be a fling. You've gone and turned it into . . . "
"And that's bad?"
She grabbed the door and held it, leaving just a crack, as if he might try to break in.
"It's worse than bad," she told him sadly. "I need to concentrate on me. On figuring out who I am. I knew who I was when I was a girl. In college. Before Dean. Then my parents died and I got married. And it was so easy to be the woman Dean wanted. The woman who would raise his kids, decorate his house and office. The woman who would help with his career."
"I don't want anything like that from you."
"But don't you see? I want to know who I am now. I want to do what I need. What I want. What color I am on my own before I can ever think about anything more than a fling."
"And I'm not a fling?"
"Not if you say you love me." She shook her head. "Not by a long-shot."
"I said I loved you. I didn't ask that you love me. I only wanted you to know." That was a lie. He'd wanted her to say she loved him, too. Wanted it more than anything he'd ever wanted.
With Carly there were no worries that the job might rattle the relationship, that what they had might fade. He knew in his gut what they had could last . . . if only she'd trust in him.
"You swore six weeks with any woman was enough."
"Carly, a lifetime with you wouldn't be enough."
"And that's why we need to say goodbye now." She leaned forward, without letting go of the door, and stood on tiptoe. Softly, so gently it almost broke his heart, she kissed his cheek. "Goodbye, Chuck."
She withdrew and shut the door behind her.
Chuck stood there stunned. What the hell had happened?
He turned and remembered Anderson's car was still sitting there.
He walked back to it. "Did you tell her you don't want to break things off?" Anderson asked.
"That and more. I blurted out I love you." He paused and let the words roll out again. "I love you."
"So why are you back in the car with me?"
"Because falling in love is the last thing she wants to do. She fell in love and lost herself. Something about losing her color. Anyway, it's over." He sank back in the seat.
"Chuck." There was sympathy in Anderson's voice.
Chuck shook his head. He didn't want Anderson saying anything. "Just take me home."