Chapter Four
On Monday, Carly hurried home from St. Vincent's. She was working the seven-to-three shift on weekdays for now. Once she passed her boards, she'd be working three twelve-hour shifts a week if she stayed at the hospital.
She'd had to go to the nurse supervisor with her list of Safety Awareness days and request them off. Thankfully, Claire knew about her legal problems and was sympathetic. As a graduate nurse, Carly was under supervision. Claire had juggled the schedule so that Carly could make the program's dates.
After she passed her boards and was a registered nurse, it would be harder to have this kind of flexibility.
Of course, she could go look for another job, straight days, in an office, like Samantha. She'd enjoyed her day at Dr. Jackson's.
Mulling over the pros and cons of both options, she opened her door to chaos. The kids walked home from school and got there about fifteen minutes before she did, but those fifteen minutes gave them time to arm themselves.
"Mom, Mom, Mom," Sean chanted, as she walked into the house and threw her bag by the door.
Carly knew that particular "Mom, Mom, Mom" meant that Sean was going to ask for something. Something she might not be inclined to grant. She tried to pretend not to notice he wanted something. "Hi, honey, how was your day at school?"
"Fine."
Fine was Sean's standard response.
Sometimes, he actually gave her more than a monosyllabic answer and said, okay. Although any description of his day that took more than those one or two syllables was rare, she continued to ask.
"Can we go to Books Galore?" he asked, getting to his Mom-Mom-Mom point. "My new comics should be in and I really need them."
"You don't need them, you want them. And I don't know why you do, comics are dumb," Rhiana proclaimed.
It was an old argument in this house. Sean was an ardent comic fan, and Rhiana used that knowledge to tease him. Having two kids only ten months apart meant teasing was one of their favorite occupations.
"They're not dumb," Sean proclaimed, right on cue. "They're like today's mythology. That new Joss Whedon one . . . "
As Sean waxed poetic about his friend Jake's theory on comic mythology, Carly tried to escape to her room. All she wanted was five minutes of peace and quiet in order to change out of her scrubs and into her real-people clothes. She didn't even manage to make it out of the kitchen.
"Hey, Mom, can we go, huh?" Sean pressed.
"And if we're taking dork-boy to Books Galore, could we stop at the mall afterward? I wanted to get a new hoody at American Eagle. They're having a sale and I still have that coupon."
Carly did the math in her head and finally nodded. "I have PTA tonight, so here's what we'll do. Give me a few minutes to change, and both of you get ready. We'll stop at Books Galore, then at American Eagle. We can come down Peach Street on the way home and grab something for dinner—"
"Taco Bell," Sean practically screamed.
"McDonald's," Rhiana retorted.
Carly listened as the debate over comics turned into a debate over which fast-food joint's food was preferable.
This time she managed to sneak out without being caught. She hurried down the hall, dodging Sean's boots which sat outside his bedroom—why, she wasn't sure. They should be in the front hall. Next came Rhiana's room. The door was firmly closed with a hand-printed warning—Keep Out—firmly in place. Finally, she got into to her own room and shut the door, then fell on her bed and took a deep breath.
There were days when it all got to be too much. When all she wanted was ten minutes to herself. Even now, she could hear the kids' muted argument, and wished it was quiet.
Which should have made those weekends when Dean had the kids something she looked forward to. Instead, she found those endless hours of silence went from welcomed to oppressive too fast. She longed for a happy medium.
There were thuds on the door. "Mom, can we go through the drive-through at both Taco Bell and McDonalds?" Sean called.
"Yeah, we tried to work out a compromise, like you say we should," Rhiana hollered.
Carly dragged herself up off the bed, knowing her momentary break was over. "Yes, we can," she called answered as she started to change, "if you both agree to come home and start your homework right after dinner with no stalling or complaints. I have a PTA meeting tonight, and I want that done before I go."
"Sure," they called out together.
Carly finished changing, trying to gear herself up for an evening of chaos. If she was lucky, she'd make the meeting on time.
Luck was not on her side.
Despite her best-laid plans, Carly arrived at the PTA meeting at seven forty-five. She'd have been close to on time, except that at some point between returning from Books Galore and the mall and leaving for the meeting, it had snowed another couple of inches, and she'd had to shovel out the driveway before leaving.
She hurried into the cafeteria and scanned the room for her friends. She spotted Samantha, Michelle and Michelle's new fiancé in a far corner. Samantha saw Carly and gave a little wave. Carly tried to look as inconspicuous as possible as she made her way over to them.
"Where's Harry?" Carly asked quietly as she pulled a chair from a neighboring table over to theirs.
"He's got to do his duty as principal at these things." Samantha pointed to Harry, up at the head table with Heidi, the overworked PTA president who'd roped all three of them onto the Social Planning Committee. There was another guy standing at the microphone.
"Who's the speaker?"
"He's talking about teaching your kids to be fearless," Michelle whispered. "He claims they need to be fearless in order to stand up to peer pressure, less-than-perfect home environments, being in a broken family and all the other outside influences."
Carly nodded, and turned her attention to the speaker.
" . . . fear can be paralyzing," he was saying, "but that same fear can push our kids down the wrong path. Bullies for instance are some of the most terrified people there are. They . . . "
Carly listened to the man as he continued talking about bullies and realized he was describing Dean. Not that Dean had ever physically abused her, but he'd eroded so much of who she was subtly, slowly. And she'd allowed it to happen.
Dean had been there when her parents died, when she so desperately needed something—someone—to cling to. He'd taken over, kept her going during that trying time. And without even knowing it, she'd allowed herself to disappear.
Innocuously, quietly, she'd changed from who she was into who he wanted her—maybe even needed her—to be.
She'd been so afraid of being alone that she hadn't noticed what was really happening to her.
She'd let herself become a doormat, an extension of Dean.
She couldn't blame him. And by the time she'd recognized and admitted it, it was too late.
Samantha gently elbowed her. "Hey, what's that expression all about?"
Michelle was next to Daniel on the other side of the table. They leaned toward each other. Not cuddling, but touching. Barely touching, yet needing that connection.
Something like that was absolutely the last thing Carly ever wanted again. She didn't want to need anyone. She'd needed Dean and lost herself. She couldn't allow that to happen again.
"I'm fine," she assured Samantha, who didn't look convinced. "Really. I'm better than fine. I'm better than I've been in a very long time."
As the other Erie Elementary parents started to clap, she looked up. The speaker had finished. She clapped as well.
Harry stood and went to the mic. "I want to thank everyone for coming out on such a snowy January night. There are refreshments, thanks to the second-grade parents." He started to move away from the microphone, and perpetually perky Heidi jumped up. "I just want to remind the parents to sign their children's class list. The class with the most parents in attendance tonight will have chips tomorrow."
"Ah, it's all about the reward," Samantha said. "My four make me come because they each want their class to win."
"Sean and Rhiana asked at the beginning of the year if my attendance counted twice for them, since they're both in the same grade. They wanted to go protest to Harry when they found out it didn't."
They walked toward the refreshment line.
"I'll probably stick to a diet soda," Samantha said, even as she eyed the tiny mini cheesecakes longingly.
Harry came up behind her and gave her a discreet hug. "Get the cheesecake. I like a woman with a few curves."
"Any more curves and I'll be the Ravine Flyer," she muttered, naming the roller coaster at the local amusement park, Waldemeer.
Harry leaned down and quickly, before anyone noticed, kissed the nape of her neck. "You're perfect just the way you are. Every curve—" He leaned closer and whispered the rest of his compliment.
Whatever he said had Samantha blushing profusely.
Carly felt a warmth spread through her middle . . . it was almost a longing. A tiny little niggle of a thought that some day, she might want that. What Samantha and Harry had.
She brutally pushed the thought back. What Samantha and Harry had was unique. Special. That didn't mean everyone was destined for something like that.
Of course, Michelle had found Daniel. She looked at them, farther down the line. They weren't as openly affectionate as Samantha and Harry, but when Michelle reached out and grabbed a napkin for Daniel, their hands brushed. And they paused. It was only a split second. Carly was pretty sure no one else noticed, but she did. And that pang hit again.
She sighed.
"Something wrong?" Samantha asked, as Harry turned around to talk to one of the parents.
Carly shook her head and reached for a chocolate cupcake. "Nothing at all. Simply looking for a chocolate fix."
"Hey, the one thing PTA moms have down to a science is chocolate. I don't think I've ever been to one of these when I didn't find myself rewarded by something chocolate afterward. Even when I was actively dieting, PTA nights didn't count. Or at least they didn't count much."
Before Carly could echo Harry's reassurances that Samantha was perfect just the way she was, Samantha said, "Thankfully, I don't worry about dieting much anymore—well, at least I don't worry very much."
Carly smiled. "Harry's good for you."
"Yeah. It sounds totally lame, but he gets me, and likes me anyway."
"Who likes you?" Harry said, rejoining their conversation.
"You like me."
"You got that." He walked with them toward the table, then groaned. "I think I have to put my principal hat back on." He gestured at a mom Carly didn't know, who was waving wildly in their direction. He reached out, took Samantha's hand and gave it a quick squeeze. "Be back in a minute."
Samantha's eyes locked on him as he made his way over to the other table.
Carly studied Samantha watching Harry.
She wondered if she'd ever gotten that goofy look on her face watching Dean. She tried to remember when they were first together. Tried to remember a time when she'd loved him so much that she couldn't keep her eyes off him—and she couldn't.
Had she merely forgotten?
Or had she and Dean never had the kind of connection Samantha and Harry had?
Or Michelle and Daniel.
She glanced across the table to see Michelle smiling at something Daniel had said to her.
Carly tried to assure herself that she didn't want what they had. That she was fine. She was a strong, self-sufficient woman who enjoyed standing on her own two feet.
That much was true. But somehow it sounded sort of lonely.
AT ONE-THIRTY THE next afternoon, Chuck reveled in the fact that the presentation of the first Safety Awareness Program appeared to be a success.
He should be resting on his laurels, but right then, the only thing resting was his gaze on Carly Lewis. She was sitting across from him in the gym talking to another group of students, handing out pamphlets as she smiled and laughed.
Animated.
That was the word he'd use to describe her.
Well, that was the word except when she had been in his company today.
Monosyllabic was closer to the mark then.
She was still obviously annoyed about dinner.
They'd been in this gym all morning and, rather than feeling punished, Carly seemed to be having a grand time with everyone. Including Bob, an Erie firefighter who was sitting next to her.
Chuck knew Bob from working with him on creating the program. He knew the guy was young and single. But despite being single, he rarely lacked for female companionship, according to rumors. Widely varied female companionship.
And from what Chuck knew about Carly's break-up, the last guy in the world that she should consider dating was a womanizer.
He smiled at his use of the word. He sounded like his mom. Thankfully he'd only thought of the word and not said it out loud.
"So, sir, if I want to be a police officer when I get older, what do I need to do?" a skinny kid asked.
Chuck had been answering the same question most of the day. By rote he started the spiel, then noticed Carly was in between groups of kids and was laughing at something Bob said.
Chuck tried to ignore them as he put together a stack of his handouts and gave them to the kid. "There's information on law enforcement in there, but there's also info you need now about Internet safety, dealing with bullies and the like."
The kid took the stack and moved on to the paramedics. Chuck tried not to think about the fact the paramedics had brought all kinds of cool equipment that enthralled the kids. Oh, he'd brought along some handcuffs and patches, but it wasn't quite the same as a stethoscope or gurney.
The principal came over to him. "I think that's it, Lieutenant. We'd like to thank you for bringing all your people today. The kids had a great time."
Chuck made small talk while he started cleaning up his pamphlets until the principal moved on down the line, then he glanced across the gym to see Carly picking up her material as well, placing it neatly into a plastic crate she'd brought along.
He hurried to finish, wanting to catch her before she escaped. He got over just as she slipped her coat on. "See, that wasn't so bad, was it?"
"No, Lieutenant." She paused a pregnant moment and added, "Lieutenant, sir."
"Come on, Carly, I said I was sorry I didn't tell you about Julia." He felt ten years old, but resisted the urge to ball his hands into fists and shove them in his pockets, or shuffle his feet back and forth. He managed to hold himself steady, but still, mentally, his fists were in his pockets.
Carly didn't say anything, then surprised him by asking, "You could do something for me, though."
"What? Just name it." A reprieve. Maybe she wasn't as annoyed as he thought.
She reached into her bag and pulled out an envelope that from all appearances had a card in it. "Give this to your brother-in-law."
He took the thick envelope and their hands touched. He enjoyed it. "What is it?"
"An apology."
"Carly, you were exactly what Anderson needed. Someone who would challenge him—who wasn't awed by the fact he was a judge. He liked sparring with you." His voice softened, just as it always did when he spoke about Julia. "We all miss my sister, but it's been a year. Anderson needs to start healing and moving on."
"And moving on is easier said than done for some people."
"Easy or not—" Chuck was going to say that easy or not, Anderson had to figure out a way to get on with his life, but he realized they weren't only talking about his brother-in-law.
Carly had been hurt by her ex. Chuck didn't have to be overly astute to know that. If nothing else, burning down half her neighborhood served as a clear sign.
So rather than finishing the sentence, he said, "Listen, our next gig is on Friday. What if afterward you and I go out?"
"Out?" There was confusion in her voice, which didn't surprise Chuck since he was rather confused as well. He hadn't meant to ask her on a date, but it appeared that's what he'd done.
In for a penny, in for a pound, he figured, and continued, "Yes, out. For a drink—"
"It will only be two in the afternoon." She set down the plastic bin she'd been holding. "I don't drink at two."
"It's closer to two-thirty by the time we pack up." He grinned.
"And I have kids who are coming at two-thirty."
"Fine. We could pick them up and all go out to—" he tried to think of an appropriate place, and settled on "—Chuck E. Cheese or some other kid-friendly spot."
"They're in seventh grade. Chuck E. Cheese is a bit too young. And anyway, my ex is picking them up from school on Friday. They're going to Cleveland and spending the weekend at his mom's. It's her birthday."
"So why did you mention kids?"
Carly had an expression as if she'd been busted, as she answered, "I thought it would be an easy way to turn down going for coffee with you."
"I meant what I said about Andy moving on, and the same applies to you. And what better way to start than by going out with one of Erie's finest?"
"So, this isn't coffee . . . it's a date?" When he didn't immediately answer Carly added, "I want things clear in my head because the idea of us dating immediately muddied everything."
He wasn't sure he'd originally meant it as a date, but suddenly, he very much wanted it to be.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Bob, the firefighter, making his way toward them, so he picked up Carly's crate and put it on top of his own. "Come on, I'll walk you to your car."
As they walked away from Bob toward the exit, he said, "And I'm going to make a stab in the dark that you haven't dated anyone since your ex, right?"
She nodded and asked. "Why?"
"Well, if you're going to move on, I'm the perfect guy because I don't ever date any woman more than six weeks."
"Pardon? You put a time limit on your dating?"
They walked out of the gym and were hit by a frigid blast of air. "You should zip up your coat," Chuck said before he could stop himself.
"I'm fine," Carly huffed. Even if he hadn't heard the verbal huff on indication, he couldn't help notice the huge puff of warm air turn to vapor in the cold.
"And you're avoiding my question," she continued, coat still unzipped. "You have a dating time limit?"
He decided to ignore the fact her coat was still flapping in the wind and answered. "It's not something I sat down and analyzed, but it is the way it always works out. After a month or so, women begin to get possessive, and frankly, I'm not interested in long-term relationships."
Chuck had many reasons—rationalizations—for avoiding longer relationships. A cop's schedule was crazy. On four days, off two. Shift changes monthly. Granted Chuck's new job was a same-shift, weekdays sort of one, but it didn't alter the fact that statistically, relationships didn't go so well for cops.
"So, I should go out with you because it won't last more than a few weeks?" Carly asked as they reached her van. She popped the back end, took her crate from him and stowed it inside, then turned, watching him as she waited for his response.
"I'm the perfect practice date. You'll be seeing me at the rest of our program afternoons anyway. We'll just go out a few times after, or in between. Then when they're over, we'll both move on."
She cocked her head to one side, and studied him, then asked, "Why on earth would you want to date me? A pyromaniac mother of two?"
Now, that was a question that Chuck wasn't going to dwell on. So, he simply corrected her. "Accidental arsonist, not pyro."
She smiled. The expression looked good on her. "You're serious about a date on Friday?"
"Yes."
She nodded. "Okay, I guess after five hours in a gym with kids, a coffee might be nice."
"Hey, I'll even spring for something to go with it."
"Donuts?" she teased and walked toward the front of the van and the driver's-side door.
He groaned. "Even if I was a huge donut fan, I'd boycott them simply so I didn't feed into that old cop-eating-donuts stereotype. I was thinking pie."
She laughed then. It wasn't some dainty sort of sound, or even a girlish giggle. It was a full-throated sound that Chuck knew he'd like to hear more of.
"Fine. I don't think you really know what you're doing, but yes, we'll go out after the program on Friday."
Chuck didn't tell her that that made two of them who didn't know what he was doing. He simply smiled. "Friday then."
She unlocked her door and climbed into the seat. And it was a bit of a climb. The fact she was so tiny was really accentuated as she sat in the giant vehicle.
"Thanks," she said. "I'd better run or I'll be late picking up the kids. I'll see you Friday."
"See you then."
He stood in the parking lot, holding his box and watched her pull away.
What on earth had he just done?
"Hey, nice job—" Bob said.
Chuck turned around. "Thanks for participating. It seemed to go well."
"Just wanted to say I wasn't trying to poach." He nodded at Carly's van as it pulled out of the school's parking lot and onto the street. "I didn't know she was spoken for."
"Huh?" Chuck managed. Spoken for? He didn't really think of his going out with Carly as her being "spoken for."
"You and Carly. She's nice, but I don't date other men's women."
Before Chuck could respond that coffee and pie didn't make Carly taken, Bob continued, "I don't need to. There are plenty of available ones out there for the taking."
Chuck didn't even begin to know what to say to that, so he mumbled a quick thank you and hurried to his car. The unmarked Crown Vic was a perk of the new position. He put his box of information in the trunk; the card that Carly had given him for Anderson was on top. Rather than go straight to the station, he'd stop by Anderson's office. He didn't want to upset Carly on Friday by not having delivered her card.
Fifteen minutes later, he parked his car at the police station, and walked the block to the County Courthouse with its two-story columns lining the front. Chuck didn't know anything about architecture, but the Courthouse always made him think of Greek plays.
The sidewalks were pretty well shoveled, so it wasn't a bad walk, but it was a cold one. Unlike Carly, he zipped his coat against the freezing air that blew in off the lake. But despite that precaution the warmth of the courthouse hit him as he waited in line to be cleared by security before going about halfway down the east wing to the stairs to the second floor. Andy's door was closed, which boded well.
"He in?" he asked Joyce.
She nodded. "Go on back."
Andy's office was everything a person who grew up watching television lawyer shows would expect. Built-in shelves with a dark mahogany-colored stain lined with beautifully bound legal books. The walls were a light tan, the fact that they were nondescript made them simply accentuate the Civil War paintings Anderson had on every available wall space.
Chuck knew that they were by Dale Gallon, a Gettysburg artist Anderson was passionate about collecting.
Chuck put the envelope on the desk in front of Anderson. "This is for you."
His brother-in-law picked up the envelope, holding it gingerly as if he expected it to blow up or something. "What is it?"
"It's from Carly."
Looking even more wary, Anderson opened it.
Chuck had been right. It was a card. But not something she'd run down to the card store to buy.
"Did she make this?" Anderson held the card out toward Chuck to give him a better view of it.
Chuck took it. "I have no idea."
The paper was thick and sort of tannish-colored. It wasn't smooth, but had a slightly uneven texture. It took a moment for Chuck to realize it looked more like material than paper. There was a fern on the front. Not some drawn-on thing, but a dried real fern that was sort of glued in place.
Chuck handed it over. "Yeah, it's homemade."
"Carly doesn't strike me as someone who does crafts. Still . . . "Anderson examined it, as if weighing it. "Beautifully made by hand. Julia would have gone crazy over cards like this."
"Maybe Carly bought it. What's it say?"
Anderson shook his head, then read, "'Dear Andy,'" a smile played lightly on his lips as he read her greeting. '"I just want to apologize for picking on you at dinner. Especially after you explained why you sentenced me to a month working with your brother-in-law. Although a month working with Chuck could be construed as cruel and unusual punishment, it's obvious your heart was in the right place. Thank you. Finding a job will be easier without an arson record. Warmly, Carly Lewis.'"
Anderson held the now-opened card out for Chuck to see. "Look, she did it in calligraphy, by hand. There's no way she bought it."
Chuck looked at the letter. "Yeah, she must have made this."
The idea of Carly taking the time to do something like this struck him as incongruent. "The part about working with me was a dig. She was pissed that I let her verbally spar with you at dinner without telling her about Julia."
Anderson's smile faded. "Why?"
"I guess because she figured picking on a guy who's still mourning after a year was rather like kicking a dog when it was down."
"You're going to put a time limit on mourning, too?" He frowned.
"Mom's right, Anderson. Don't tell her I said those words." Chuck meant that as a joke, but Anderson wasn't biting. "It's time for you to move on. Carly, too. She's got to get over her bitterness about her ex, and you . . . "
"Me?"
Feeling nauseatingly touchy-feely, Chuck took a deep breath then blurted out, "You can't hang on to the past. Julia wouldn't want that for you. Carly's taken her first steps, now it's time for you to, too."
"What do you mean, Carly taking steps?"
"Despite some initial reluctance, it seems she's jumping into the dating pool again." Chuck tried not to look smug, but it was hard.
Anderson's grin was back. "Anyone I know?"
"Yeah. You could say that."
Anderson nodded. "You're sure about this?"
"Hey, I told her—I'm the perfect practice date for her. Just a rebound guy. Nothing serious. No expectations of forever. I was clear about that, Andy. I wouldn't lead any woman on, especially Carly Lewis." He wasn't sure why especially Carly, but there it was. He wouldn't be able to stand hurting her.
"It sounds good when you put it that way, but be careful, Chuck."
"Why?"
"Carly doesn't strike me as a woman who's simple to date." Anderson laughed as he held up the handcrafted card. "I suspect there's a lot to Carly Lewis that none of us suspect."
Chuck didn't say anything, but silently he agreed.
There was a lot more to Carly Lewis than he'd initially thought . . . and he couldn't wait to find out more.