Chapter Eleven
One week after taking her boards and breaking up with Chuck, Carly got to Erie Elementary early and started taping the stupid paper hearts to the fabric-draped, folded-in bleachers around the gym.
She yelled at the kids for using the word, and she'd really wanted to use something stronger, but settled for it. "Stupid paper hearts," she muttered. "Stupid Valentine's Day."
She hated the holiday.
Hated all thoughts of warm fuzzy love and happily-ever-afters.
She knew where ever-afters ended, with a blazing couch catching the neighborhood on fire.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid." That's what she'd been when she'd agreed to that first dinner at Chuck's house.
She went to the decoration box for more hearts—and kicked it. Kicked it hard.
"Stupid. Stupid. Stupid."
"Hey, hey, hey," Samantha hollered, as she arrived, Michelle right behind her. "We're here to help. Don't get violent with the decorations."
"We didn't forget. We're on time," Michelle added.
"I didn't think you forgot." Carly plopped on the floor by the now slightly worse-for-wear box. "I knew you'd both come."
"Then what is it?" Michelle asked, sitting next to Carly.
Samantha joined them both. "Did you get your results? If you didn't pass, it's not that bad. You can retake them in a month, I think. Hey, it happens. You've certainly had enough on your plate. No one would blame you—"
"No," Carly interrupted. "I mean, yes, I got the results, and I passed." She tried to muster some sort of enthusiasm. Had been trying to since she saw her score online on Thursday. "My first instinct, the first thing I thought when I saw I passed, was I can't wait to tell Chuck. Of course, I didn't."
"Why not?" Michelle asked.
She had thought about calling Michelle and Samantha all week and telling them about Chuck's declaration. But she hadn't. She'd simply . . . wallowed. That was the kindest definition what she'd done this week.
"I didn't call him because . . . "
Why hadn't she called? Many reasons. She hadn't told him because he'd said he loved her. Because he was no longer just a boy-toy. "I've barely started to rediscover me. I needed to end things before they became too serious."
She still didn't mention Chuck telling her that he loved her.
"Carly, maybe you should—"
"Don't. Please. I know you both want to help. That you want to comfort me. That secretly you're hoping I'll fall for Chuck and be as happy as you are. But that's not going to happen. So, let's not talk about this anymore."
She stood, reached in the stupid box and grabbed another handful of stupid hearts.
"Is he still doing security tonight?" Samantha asked.
"I called the station and spoke to some cop named Kirk who said he'd come instead."
"Well, then, that's that." Michelle got up and held a hand out to help Samantha up. "Let's decorate this gym."
Carly ignored the look the two of them shared. It was full of sympathy and concern. She asked, with as much teasing as she could muster, "So, who was it that thought assigning me Valentine's Day would be a good idea?"
She knew her laughter sounded forced, just as Samantha's and Michelle's did. There was no mirth in any of them.
But they played along.
"Let's blame Heidi," Samantha said. "She's the one who roped us into this committee, after all."
"She's also the reason I have you two in my life. I'm not blaming Heidi. I'm blaming myself. I knew better than to date Chuck. If it hadn't been for—" she paused "—Anderson. Judge Anderson Bradley. That's who I'm going to blame."
She kicked the box again. "Stupid Andy and his stupid community service."
Samantha kicked the box. "Stupid Andy."
Michelle kicked the box so lightly it could hardly be called a tap. "Stupid Andy." She knelt down and straightened it. "Okay, no more kicking the poor decorations."
"Can I kick Andy next time I see him?"
Michelle looked up and had a genuine smile on her face. "Sure."
"Great." If it wasn't for Judge Anderson Bradley, Carly would never have had to deal with Chuck falling in love with her.
And maybe, just maybe, a little voice whispered—as it had all week—falling a little in love with him in return.
So, what was she going to do about it?
AT SIX O'CLOCK THAT NIGHT, with the lights turned down and the decorations in place, it was hard to remember they were in a gym.
Carly ran around taking care of last-minute arrangements.
She glanced at the clock and smoothed imaginary wrinkles from her simple black slacks. She'd thrown on a red sweater, not because of any need to dress for the holiday, but because she knew reds and pinks were going to abound tonight, and by fitting in she'd blend in. And maybe if she blended enough, Michelle and Samantha wouldn't notice how utterly miserable she was.
The band and security would be here soon. The dance would start and a few hours later, they'd clean up and it would be done.
She'd be done with the Valentine's Dance.
The Social Planning Committee would be finished.
Carly's life was about to find a new sense of order. She was an RN. She was still working at the hospital, but had put in applications for a few other jobs.
The one she was most hopeful for was with the school district. Because of the Safety Awareness Program she'd discovered she liked working with the kids. And being a school nurse would put her on the same schedule as Sean and Rhiana.
She was sure she'd find something, but getting that job was what she was hoping for.
Her kids were her priority.
She'd proven so much to herself, and was rediscovering her own individual color.
So why wasn't she happier about it?
"Carly?"
She turned and there was Chuck, dressed in his dark-navy police uniform with all its brass and bars in place. He looked. . . good.
So very good.
She knew she'd missed him, but she didn't know how much until she saw him. And that annoyed her. "What are you doing here? I thought Kirk was going to take over for you?"
"I said I'd be here. I said I'd do it. I try to keep my word, Carly." He paused. "Is that a problem for you?"
"No, of course not."
He looked around the gym. "Everything looks great. It seems you and I are destined to spend a lot of time in school gyms."
"Yes, I guess we were." She almost smiled, but didn't allow herself to. "It seems appropriate that we end it here."
She could see her response bothered him, but he was quick to try and cover it up. He simply said, "Mom and Dad are coming. They're dragging Anderson along, much to his disgust."
She felt uncomfortable at the idea of seeing his parents and Anderson since she'd dumped Chuck, but she didn't say so. Instead, she nodded. "Okay, well, I've got to see if the band has arrived. Would you mind standing by the front door until things kick off?"
He looked disappointed. As if he'd wanted her to say something else. But he didn't complain, just said, "Whatever you need, Carly."
"CHUCK'S HERE?" SAMANTHA asked forty-five minutes later.
Carly repositioned a table, more out of a need for busy work than because there was anything wrong with the table's original position. "Yes."
"What happened to the other cop?"
She stopped fidgeting with the table. "It sounded as if Chuck told him not to bother. He said he'd promised to be here, and so here he is."
"Are you okay with that?"
She shrugged and tried to look at ease. "Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"
"Carly, it's me you're talking to. Although it could just as easily be Michelle. The two of us get it. We each went through our own rocky starts with a guy recently. But look how good that's turned out for us. Maybe you and Chuck—"
Carly shook her head. "I'm so glad it worked out for you and Michelle, but Chuck and I won't be getting a fairy-tale ending."
"If you say so."
She did. She said so and meant it. She wasn't ready to fall in love with anyone. She still had so much to do, to discover about herself and about making it on her own.
She started to walk away. She could go check on the food.
Samantha reached out and took her hand. "Carly."
Reluctantly, Carly turned back to her friend.
Samantha dropped her hand. "You told Michelle and me a while ago that you wanted to discover who you are on your own . . . I think you've done that. And you've proven you can make it on your own. You said you needed to find out what color you were. I think you've done that, too. You're not standing in anyone's shadow now. But you are standing in the shadow of your past. Maybe it's time to step back into the light. And maybe you'd find that whatever color you choose to be will shine a bit brighter with Chuck at your side."
Samantha frowned. "I know how that sounded, but I also know you know what I'm talking about." Her friend left her and walked away. Then stopped in her tracks, turned around and added, "I never thought I'd say this, but Carly, you're afraid. And you're going to let that fear rob you of something special."
And with that, Samantha did leave Carly standing alone in the center of a sea of hearts and cupids with no idea what she was going to do about it.
AN HOUR INTO THE dance, Chuck was asking why on earth the school had wanted security. The adults attending the event were a sedate group, visiting at tables, some dancing.
He wandered over to his parents' table, where Anderson sat looking more miserable than Chuck felt.
"So, go talk to her," Chuck's mother badgered him.
Why on earth he'd ever agreed to let them come to the dance, he wasn't sure. His mother had moved from lobbying for him to find a woman—any woman—to lobbying for him to win over Carly. And since subtlety wasn't his mother's strongest suit—okay it wasn't her suit at all—she'd spent the last week advising him on how to get Carly back.
Chuck glanced away. "She's made her position clear, Mom."
"You told me. She's worried about color and being hurt again. I don't really understand it—"
"That makes two of us."
"—but I know when a woman's in love, and Carly Lewis is in love with you. And Chuck, I'm your mom. I recognize those same signs in you. You love her."
"She was hurt and doesn't want to tie herself to any man again. I don't know that she can trust—"
"Chuck, you're too smart to believe that. Carly does trust you. As a mother, I guarantee that if she didn't, she'd have never allowed you to go near her kids. Come on, Charles August Jefferson. Reason this out. She trusts you, but . . . "
"She doesn't trust herself, her own judgment," he murmured. And suddenly he understood. She'd trusted her husband. Done everything he asked her to—to the point of losing herself—and he'd still betrayed her.
Carly might love him, but she'd never admit it because didn't trust her own judgment.
"And you," his mother said, obviously not finished yet. "For years you've used being a cop as an excuse, but the fact you've never settled down has nothing to do with the occasional rocky relationship police officers face. That was never the reason. The problem was. you hadn't found the right woman . . . until now."
"Mom . . . " He didn't know what to say, other than to tell his mother she was right, and no good ever came from telling her that.
"Chuck," his father, normally silent about all things relationship oriented, said, "Your mother's right. You love Carly, and like it or not, she loves you."
"I'm a judge," Anderson piped in. "I read people for a living, and I'm with your parents on this one, Chuck. The question is, are you going to let her get away?" Anderson's voice dropped. "I know what it is to have lost someone you love, meanwhile you'll just throw away what you could have with Carly? I thought I knew you better than that."
"Go get her, son," his mother encouraged. "I think that may be your song."
As if it were a sign, the band started to play Jimmy Buffet's "Margaritaville."
CARLY STOOD ON the stage, peeking from behind a curtain, trying to judge the gym with unjaundiced eyes. The decorations looked lovely. Especially the Mylar hearts she'd used as centerpieces on each table. The metallic silver and red sides flashed in the candlelight as dancers wove to and fro dancing to "Margaritaville."
Daniel and Michelle.
Harry and Samantha.
Mr. and Mrs. Jefferson were even out there.
"Damn," she muttered. The song made her think of Chuck.
Everything made her think of Chuck.
She missed him.
She wanted to run to him and tell him so, wanted so much to take a chance on him. On them. It had been easier to ignore the urges when she didn't have to see him. But now . . . with him somewhere in the gym, it was harder.
She scanned the crowd, looking for him. She spotted Anderson, sitting in a quiet corner by himself, watching the dancers. She wondered if he was thinking about his wife, missing her.
Like she was missing Chuck. It was a tangible ache. She wanted nothing more than to find him and—
"Here you are."
She turned around. As if he'd known she was thinking about her, there he was. "Did you need something, Chuck?" Even to her own ears she sounded far too stiff and formal.
"Yes."
Rather than tell her what it was he needed, he closed the distance between them, and reached for her.
Carly took a step back. "Chuck, we've been over this."
"No, you've been over this. You've given me every excuse in the book. Some convoluted talk of colors, standing on your own and not believing in love. But that's all a lie, Carly. It's not that you don't believe in love. I've seen you look at your friends when they're with their fiancés."
She turned from him, and between the curtains she studied her friends dancing. "Samantha and Harry, Michelle and Daniel—they're different."
"You believe that they're in love, that their love is strong enough to last?" She turned around and faced Chuck, then reluctantly, she agreed.
She did believe that Harry and Samantha, and Daniel and Michelle were going to make it.
"Then you believe in love." Chuck sounded as if that statement settled some argument she didn't know they were having.
"Okay, maybe for other people, but not for me. I don't think I'll ever be able to trust another man enough to fall in love again. Not even you."
"No, It's not me you don't trust. It's not even men in general. I thought it was, but now I know it's not." He paused and added, "Well, Mom made me realize that wasn't it, but whatever you do, don't tell her. Anyway, it's not me, and it's not love that you can't trust and believe in."
"Okay, Freud, why don't you tell me what it is?"
"It's yourself. You can't trust in yourself. You trusted Dean. You believed him."
She nodded. "And then he had an affair."
"No, even before that he lied to you in a thousand different ways. He asked you to quit college and help him through law school and promised when he was done it would be your turn. But it wasn't. He needed you to run the house, take care of the kids, make sure his life went smoothly. In your relationship, it was always about what Dean wanted, what he needed. You trusted that he cared about your needs as well, but he never did."
It was easier to look at the happy school couples than at Chuck, so she did. "I don't need you to psychoanalyze my life," she told him over her shoulder.
He touched her and physically turned her around. "Yes, you do. You do need me. More than you know. You say you can't love me, that you can't believe in me, but Carly, it's not something I've done, or will do. It's you. It's you that you don't believe in, that you can't trust. You've shown in the past your judgment is suspect."
"So, there you have it. It's a cliché, but I'll give it to you. It's not you, it's me, Chuck. See, I told you. Does that make our breaking up easier on you?"
He shook his head. "No. Nothing could do that. Carly, you can trust yourself and believe in me. I don't need someone to make my life run smoothly. I don't need someone to hang on my every word, to redecorate my office and yes-dear me to death. You've changed since you were with Dean. In my wildest imagination, I can't picture you yes-dearing me."
She snorted. "Okay, so you're right about that."
Chuck released her and she backed up.
"And I don't want you to. Carly, I just want you. I want you when you're sweet, and when you're not so much. I want you to have your job, crazy hours and all, and I'll have mine, crazy hours and all. We're both independent, capable people who've proven we can make it on our own. That means if we're together, it's because we choose to be together. Because we're meant for each other."
"Because we have what Samantha and Harry found? What Michelle and Daniel found?"
The question wasn't really for Chuck, it was for her. She wanted to answer no. It would be easier if she and Chuck hadn't. But she suspected they had. She'd been suspecting it ever since she broke up with Chuck.
"You don't have to believe in me, or even in yourself, though you should." Chuck took a step toward her, and this time Carly didn't back up.
"But you do need to believe in us," he continued. "In what we have. In what we could be."
"What about your six-week rule?" she asked.
"It was never a rule, it was how things were. My mother pointed out that none of my other relationships lasted more than six weeks because none of those women was the right woman for me."
"Chuck, I was clear about what I wanted . . . no, what I need and don't need. I have to stand on my own two feet. I won't lean on anyone else."
"Carly, I can't imagine you not standing on your own two feet. You're the toughest, most amazing woman. And a good relationship involves two people who are competent and able to stand on their own, but know they can lean on each other if they need to. I'm here whenever you want to lean, but I'm not looking for a clinging vine. I need someone who's not going to berate me if I have to miss a holiday because of work. Someone who knows I'd rather be with them, but that sometimes work has to be the priority. Even now that I work predominantly day shift, it's not a nine-to-five job, and never will be."
She didn't say anything because she didn't know what to say.
Chuck filled the silence. "I want you. I love you. That's not going to change, Carly. Let me know when you make up your mind."
She braced herself, waiting for him to turn around and leave, but instead, he walked over the ground between them, took her into his arms and kissed her.
Just as she started to fall into the rhythm of kissing Chuck, he pulled back. "Come and find me when you're ready. Just don't take too long, okay?"
This time he did leave.
It would be up to her.
He was going to walk away and wait for her to come get him.
She was in charge. It was up to her.
The thought was as freeing as when she took charge of making love to Chuck that first time.
She was in charge.
He trusted her to figure it out.
And he was right . . . the question wasn't did she trust him? It was could she trust herself?
She spied through the curtains. Her friends were still dancing. Two couples who'd beaten the odds.
Chuck's mother and father were still on the dance floor, too, looking as if they were made for each other.
And Anderson was still sitting alone at a table, watching everyone else dance. Alone. Mourning the woman he'd loved and lost.
He'd probably give almost anything for another chance with Julia.
Carly closed her eyes for a split second. What would he say about her fear keeping her from going after the man she wanted?
And she did want Chuck.
Was her fear greater than her love?
Suddenly, everything crystalized and she hurried away from the stage into the dark hallway. She turned right and started down the stairs—and bumped into Chuck.
He glanced at his watch. "You know, that took longer than I'd hoped."
Then he smiled, and she knew it wasn't because of his teasing, it was because he knew what she was going to say. "You only left a couple of minutes ago," she stated matter-of-factly.
"Yeah, but a couple of minutes of not knowing if you're coming after me is the equivalent of a lifetime." He paused and asked, "You were coming after me, right?"
She nodded. "For the longest time I tried to be perfect. I tried to be whatever, whoever, my ex needed me to be. When that wasn't enough, and he left me, I was terrified. But over the last few months, I've done more than go through the motions, I've got my life back. I've got me back. And you're right, what I've found is I can handle things, and I can take care of my kids on my own. I'm starting a new career, so I can support myself, too. And I deserve more than being someone's six-week fling. I know I don't need to rely on anyone. But I do want you. I know you find my color analogy weird, but, Chuck, I just figured out, unlike with my ex, I've never stood in your shadow. You don't want me to. You don't rob me of my color, you make it brighter, sort of like those neon highlighters you gave me. You make it brighter."
She kissed him. Kissed the man she loved. The man she trusted.
And because she finally knew she could trust herself, she said, "I love you."
"You're right I don't get the color thing, but Carly, I get you. You get me. We were made for each other." He stared into her eyes deeply. "And I love you, too."
Carly wanted to run out and tell Samantha and Michelle that they were right. She wanted to go out and find Chuck's family and tell them, too. But more than that, she wanted to take this minute with the man she loved.
"I think I hear another Jimmy Buffet song starting." She held out her hands, silently asking him for a dance.
The man she loved—who loved her in return—took her in his arms and they danced and danced and danced.
And it was a very nice Valentine's after all.