Charlotte twirled in a circle, taking in her old childhood bedroom. The curtains had been spruced from a faded purple to pretty burnt orange, yellow, and white flowers. The pale yellow walls were the same, except instead of posters of her favorite movies and comic book heroes, they were bare. A vase of fresh flowers decorated a pretty chestnut brown desk sitting catty-corner near the window.
Surprisingly, her mother had supplied file and drawer organizers equipped with highlighters, pens, and pencils. The room was spacious with plenty of sunlight streaming through. Perfectly adequate for work, quiet time, and reflection. Deep thoughts like her career path . . . if she’d make a good mother . . . Jake. Coming home had been the right decision, but it still didn’t stop the hurt that throbbed with every beat of her heart.
She smiled as she looked out the window and observed the quiet neighborhood. In her bones, she knew she would be a good mother. She wanted it all for Bean. A real family. A father who lived with them. Family dinners and busy Sunday mornings getting the kids ready for church. For a moment, she’d thought Jake could be that guy and she’d soared in the sky from elation. But like Icarus, she gotten too close to the sun and had plummeted down to Earth.
“Is the room okay, Charlie?”
She jumped at her mother’s voice. Gathering her wits and scattered nerves, she smiled and sat on the wide windowsill. “Yes, Mama. Everything looks good.”
Her mother nodded with a relieved smile of her own. “Good. We kept things minimal because we figured you’d want to add your personality to the room. And, if you decide to stay longer, we can make room for the baby, too.”
“Oh, I . . . I’m not sure if I’ll be here that long. Maybe a few weeks, no more than a month.” She tapped her forehead. “Just enough time to get my head screwed on right.”
Mama crossed the room, hesitated, and then gave Charlotte a tight squeeze. “I think you have a pretty good head on your shoulders already.” Clearing her throat, she stepped back and tucked her hair behind her ears before clasping her hands behind her back. “You just need to evaluate your options, and there’s no better way to do that than surrounding yourself with good country air.” She waved her hands. “Take all the time you need, baby. Your father and I . . . and your sister and brother, too, are here for you and the baby.”
Charlotte’s body shook with emotion. “Thank you, Mama. This means a lot to me.”
“And you mean a lot to us.” She smiled. “Now, I’m going to cook your favorite. Pot roast with mashed potatoes and gravy and lima beans. And of course, my world-famous key lime pie.”
“Key lime pie?” Charlotte repeated. Her mother hadn’t made her favorite in years.
“Yes, ma’am, but it may taste a little funny. I’m experimenting with a recipe that has less sugar.” She waved her hands in a defensive stance. “Not for losing weight, but for diabetes.”
“It’s okay, Mama. That’s really sweet of you.”
Her mother sighed, and her shoulders sagged in relief. “Anyway, dinner will be ready at seven-thirty, so you have all day to settle in. Prissy told me that she’d be over in a few hours to help you unpack, and I think she wants you guys to go shopping at some fancy maternity shop sometime this weekend. No pressure. Up to you. Dad will be around to hang up any pictures or your comic book covers, so don’t try doing it yourself, young lady!” She waved her pointed finger.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Mama nodded and moved toward the door, pausing before the doorway. “And Charlotte?”
“Yes, Mama?”
“Welcome home, baby.”
• • •
Charlotte sat cross-legged on her bed, watching her father hammer in a nail for her framed posters as he chattered away about one of the new hires at the local plant he managed.
Am I in the Twilight Zone? Swinging her head, she scanned the room, looking for a camera, no doubt manned by bug-eyed green aliens with large antenna-like ears who’d swapped her father’s personality or maybe took over his mind. But from what she could see, every nook and cranny was clear of any extraterrestrials.
Hammer in hand, Dad stepped back. “I swear that boy is gonna kill us.”
That boy was actually a man named Joe, an eager beaver who’d nearly caused an explosion at the water treatment plant. Her father had mentioned something about ozone and organic chemicals. All Greek to me.
“Oh, he’s probably just nervous. With you as his trainer, I’m sure he’ll catch on quick.”
Swiping another nail from the table, he snorted. “Shee-iit. That boy struts around like he’s the second coming of Jesus, waving around his master’s degree like we’re supposed to bow down and kiss his feet. I told him there’s a tree stump in a Louisiana swamp with a higher IQ.”
Laughter bubbled from her chest. She doubled over and pressed her face into the pillow. She couldn’t believe Vance Jones had cracked a joke. And a funny one, too. “Dad, tell me you did not say that to Joe!” Wiping tears that had formed in the corners of her eyes, she couldn’t remember laughing so hard.
“Sure as hell did, excuse my language. The man nearly killed us all and had the audacity to say that it wasn’t in his course studies. You can’t teach common sense.”
She laughed again, and he laughed along with her.
“Now, baby, where do you want this man in a cat suit?”
“Oh, Black Panther is front and center. You can put him on the wall over there.” She pointed at the bare space opposite her bed. “Right in the middle.”
“All right, then.”
Charlotte’s bedroom door swung open. “What’s all this cackling goin’ on in here?”
Prissy stepped in, dressed to the nines in a royal blue sweater dress and black leather knee-high boots.
“Hey, Priss.” Charlotte waved from the bed. “Dad was just telling me about his near death experience a few days ago.”
“What?” Her sister rushed into the room. “What happened and why was it so funny?”
“Tell her, Dad.” Charlotte encouraged. After he’d recounted the story, Prissy told some more as she helped Charlotte unpack. Her sister was a paralegal at one of the biggest law firms in Mobile and had a lot of crazy clients and attorney stories. Pretty soon they were all laughing.
“Dinner’s ready!” Her mother shouted from the kitchen.
“Right on time.” Prissy hung up the last piece of clothing in the closet. “And sister of mine,” she reached for Charlotte’s hand and squeezed, “rest up tonight because you and I are going shopping for maternity clothes tomorrow.”
Charlotte smiled, her heart warm as her family rallied around her. She rubbed her stomach. We’re going to be okay, Bean.
• • •
“Get your head outta your ass, Ross!” Coach Conner yanked the cap off his bald head, slapped it against his knee, and then rushed to the pitcher’s mound.
Jake wiped the sweat from his brow and sighed. He didn’t need the pitching coach’s shit today. Almost a month since Charlotte moved away, and it didn’t seem like she was anywhere near making whatever fucking decision she needed to make. Anger and resentment seared his chest.
Coach wheezed as he neared the mound. “We’re not repeating the shitty performance you did a few seasons ago. You’re not some baby-faced rookie from nowhere Alabama anymore. You’re a fucking Yankee!”
“Got it, coach,” Jake growled, kicking up dust with his cleats.
“I don’t think you do, Ross. J.J. just devoured your pitch like one of those fat fucks at a hot dog eating contest.” He waved at the home plate. “Fucking J.J. bats two-seventy, and you’re letting this mook get one over you?”
Jake squeezed the ball as he took in the coach’s harsh words. The man was an asshole, but a talented asshole, and he was completely right. I’m not focused.
“It won’t happen again, coach.”
“You’re damn right it won’t. Hit the showers and get outta my sight.” He jerked his thumb past his ear, pointing toward the stands. “You’ve been moping around like someone kicked your puppy. Whatever it is you’ve got going on, fix it before training camp starts.”
Jake slid off his mitt and strode from the mound. Thank God the entire team hadn’t witnessed his shitty pitching. For now, it was just Coach Conner, the five starting pitchers, and seven relief pitchers at practice.
Coach yelled from a distance. “Garcia, you’re up, amigo! Fuck up, and you’ll be hitting the showers like Ross.”
After a quick rinse off, Jake sat on the locker room bench, contemplating his next move. Not in life, just the next hour in the day. He couldn’t think too far ahead anymore, but he didn’t want to return to his condo. To combat the emptiness, he took it a day at a time, step by step. If he thought too far ahead, he’d think about Charlotte and Bean.
My son. God, he’d learned over the phone they were having a boy. A fucking phone call. Would that be his role when Bean arrived? A phone dad? He wanted to jump on a plane and hold Charlotte, but he couldn’t. She needed her space.
What widened the hole in his heart had been when his mother had called him. Her reasons had been two-fold: One, to argue with him about how good a woman Charlotte was and to marry her and, two, to schedule a date for the baby shower.
What can I do? Where can I go? One thing he knew for sure: he didn’t want to return to the condo. It no longer felt like home. He tapped the fingers on the bench, thinking through his options.
I can call the center. Maybe step in and volunteer with something. He texted Damien to see if they could use a hand. The director quickly replied and let him know a few of the kids were bored and could use some entertainment. Slinging the duffel bag over his shoulder, Jake made his way to Refurbished Dreams.