Misplaced Innocence (13 page)

“Well, then,” Jared hesitated, made to step back toward his car.

“I figured as long as you were out this way you might as well join me for dinner. Everything’s just about ready, really. I’ve even got some cookies out to cool. Your favorite.”

He hated that she knew his favorite cookie. He hated that she was sounding more and more like Mary Anne. He hated that he really wanted to leave the Doorman farm and that he felt compelled to stay because otherwise he would be back at home with Charisma and that was just a host of awkward moments waiting to happen. Jared sighed again.
 

“Well, it is getting to be about that time...” He followed Jenny as she turned and sashayed up the driveway and toward the white-trimmed house. In all honesty, he had a lot less to fear around her than he did Charisma.

~*~

Darkness was settling in around Jared’s house. Charisma was tucked beneath a well-used throw blanket and curled into one corner of the sofa, the television on and the dog pressed against her. She stifled another yawn and rubbed one hand over her eyes. The days seemed too long and the night too short for her to ever catch enough sleep to keep her going through the whole day. She could think of a hundred reasons why that might be the case, but didn’t really like to dwell on the nastiness that was currently her life.
 

She kept returning to the window, watching the outside change as the light did. Not one view had left her disappointed.

Her stomach growled. It was getting later. The pit in her stomach that came with darkness was starting to be more insistent. Jared had yet to return from his trip out to the farm. She tried not to worry about him. After all, she reasoned, he was a big boy who certainly had been out later and was capable of making it back home on his own. If there was any truth to Bill’s stories at all, Jared could be out there with one of his numerous girlfriends. Charisma pictured the awkwardness of explaining why there was this new, strange girl staying in his house to one of his women and it made her smile.
 

The smile retreated quickly as she checked the clock above the television one more time. Of course he had been taking care of himself for years, but now everything was different. Now she was entwined in his life, which could bring with it all sorts of things he had never had to deal with before, never had to be afraid of before.
 

But seriously, picturing Jared dead on the side of the road wasn’t going to help the situation any. She thought about rooting through his kitchen until she found some food for dinner, but didn’t want to go through his things, didn’t want to make a target of herself by moving through the house, turning on lights. She had already let down the curtains, strained to hear unacceptable sounds in a new place, had the television on so low that she could hardly hear it over Scruffy’s snores. And seriously, how could Jared run off like this when he knew what she was going through? After he had gone out of his way to invite her to his home so she wouldn’t have to be alone dealing with phone calls and letters just to run out at his very first opportunity and leave her alone somewhere where she couldn’t even identify which sounds were supposed to be scary and which ones were everyday.

Charisma hadn’t realized how worked up the whole thing had made her until Scruffy made a strangled, unhappy sound. She looked down at her hand and saw that her fingers were twisted in the strands of one furry ear. Scruffy looked accusingly up at her. Charisma untangled her hand and scratched Scruffy behind the ears in what she hoped was an apologetic and comforting way.
 

She was about to pull herself off the couch, stretch, and scavenge the kitchen for something edible when there was the sound of the front door being flung open and the reassuring clomping of boots on wood. Well, Charisma thought ruefully, reassuring only because no capable person breaking into a house would ever make so much noise. That was the clomping of someone who knew they belonged in that house.
 

Jared found her still sitting on the couch, studiously avoiding acknowledging his presence. He propped up against the doorway into the kitchen, taking a minute to study the way the light from the television played on her profile, backlit strands of her dark hair, and danced across her cheekbones.
 

“Hi,” he said when he finally realized he had been staring. He tried not to notice that he would have been perfectly happy to continue staring at her that way.

“Oh,” the sound escaped her in a little breath that made the word seem innocent and caught off-guard. “Hi,” she proffered him a smile and he was smiling back before he even realized it.

“Sorry I was gone so long.” He kicked himself for talking. He had been going over this since he had sat down at Jenny’s dinner table. He wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it. He wasn’t going to act apologetic over the fact that he had been gone for hours, or that he hadn’t called to tell her where he was or when he would be back. And here he was, back not even five minutes and already derailing from his well-laid plans of aloofness. “I know I should have called, but I got all caught up in the diagnosis....” He had to stop himself now. Every second it was getting worse. He shook his head, hoping he could get a hold of himself before it was too late. But she was looking at him with those big eyes, all cozy and warm on the corner of his couch like there was nowhere else she would rather be. “Have you eaten?” He took that moment to propel himself away from the door frame and wander into the kitchen. Anything to break him from the trance Charisma had somehow managed to put him in.

“No,” she called from the other room, clearly in no rush to unfold herself or keep him company in the kitchen. “I was waiting for you.”

There was the smallest hint of accusation to her words, and Jared couldn’t help but feel guilty about how many hours he had left her there, waiting, while he was eating over at Jenny’s and trying not to let her feet press up against his jean-clad calf beneath the kitchen table. He was rooting through the refrigerator, and he hoped that would sufficiently mumble his words of apology.
 

There wasn’t really a lot to root through, he had to admit after a few minutes of peering at the same items. He had some semi-fresh fruit, cans of soda, beer, leftovers. Honestly he hadn’t made a home cooked meal in what seemed like forever. Well, he hadn’t made a home cooked meal since he’d started cooking only for himself. Somehow it lost something when you ended up sitting at the dining room table, alone, talking to no one about their day.
 

He flung open a cupboard. “I don’t have a lot of options. I can pick up some food tomorrow.... How do you feel about pasta?” He didn’t have the heart to tell her it was either pasta or one of the frozen T.V. dinners he had stacked in the freezer.
 

“Pasta’s fine.” Her voice wafted in, closer than he had expected and he pulled his head out of the cupboard long enough to see she had taken his place by the door.
 

“Perfect.” He dropped the box of spaghetti on the counter and returned back to the cupboard. There were some mushrooms he could add, then there was some oregano, a jar of unopened tomato sauce. All things considered this was going better than he had anticipated. For a minute there, he’d been wondering if maybe the frozen dinners weren’t a better option.
 

When he turned back to where Charisma had been, she was gone. It didn’t take much to remember the shapely legs and short shorts, though, and even when he nicked his finger opening the canned mushrooms, he couldn’t shake the image from his mind.

~*~

Morning light sifted in through the blinds and shone golden on the wooden floors. Either Jared was an immaculate cleaner or the room had been unused for some time. Maybe he had shut the door and forgotten it existed; not even the fine layer of dust that seemed to gravitate toward Charisma’s belongings made an appearance on the top of the bureau or in the streams of sunlight.
 

Charisma yawned and stretched, pushing Scruffy back on to her side of the bed. Sleeping with a dog was worse than sleeping with another human. They had no respect at all for personal space.
 

Scruffy harumphed and jumped out of bed, her nails making a familiar tapping as she made her rounds in the room, stopping to smell every corner and new piece of furniture. Charisma enjoyed the warmth of the bed a moment longer before joining Scruffy and swinging her legs over the edge of the mattress.

There were no other sounds in the house, and Charisma wondered if maybe Jared were still asleep. After dinner they had lingered at the table, chatted about nothing, about everything but why she was sitting at his dining room table and taking occupancy in his spare bedroom. There had been idle chat about the weather, New Jersey, the current gossip in Carlton, Jared’s condo in New York. She pursed her lips as she remembered that portion of their conversation. If there was one thing a person learned when she was constantly running, constantly hiding from her past, it was when another person was doing the same. She saw her own eyes in his when he averted his gaze, the wave of her own hand when he brushed aside that part of the conversation. She imagined his story would tumble out like hers had if she could find the right thing to say.

But she didn’t really want to know. She didn’t want to know anything else that would complicate the mess she was already tangled in, and didn’t want to know anything that might change the way she saw Jared now.
 

She snatched her hair back from her face, yanking it into a lopsided ponytail and chided herself for even thinking about Jared so early in the morning. If she were lucky, he would still be sleeping and she could use the coveted morning light to work on her current project. After all, threatening phone calls or not, a girl needed to be paid, and if she started missing deadlines she’d be dropped quicker than she could create a new identity.
 

She opened her bedroom door as quietly as she could, cringing at the sound the old hinges made. She padded down the hallway, Scruffy tapping along beside her and settled by the big window in the family room. She had laid her art supplies out the night before and she was eager to do something that might put her mind to ease.
 

Scruffy returned to her new favorite spot on the sofa, curling so her head rested on the armrest and she could watch Charisma through lazy eyes.
 

The sketchpad was comforting to Charisma. It was second nature to have it propped up on her lap, pencils littering the space in front of her, the stuffed animal perpetually posing in the morning light. It was so quiet in the house, Charisma started to wonder if maybe Jared had woken early and had already left for the day, or the morning, or for however long he left before returning to his house usually.
 

It didn’t take her long to become completely involved in her work. Her hand moved of its own accord, tracing the lines of the fox as if the work had already been done on the page. She filled in the whiskers of his pointy nose until she could almost see them twitching in curiosity or at a new smell. She worked on his eyes until his expression was almost tangible. This was her favorite part of working. She knew some artists who loved the color, loved the technology, but this was her space, where simple pencil on paper could create a living being.

She didn’t hear Jared when he walked up behind her. She did not know how long he stood there, watching her hand move across the page and create new lines, new depth to her would-be illustration. She did not know he had been studying the downward shadow of her lashes or the way she bit one corner of her lip while she was concentrating. It was impossible for her to know how long he watched her function in her own trance-like space before he cleared his throat and made his presence known.

“Good morning.”

She started, moving so quickly she nearly dropped the sketchbook, and wondered if Jared had intentionally waited for her to raise the pencil off the page before choosing to speak.

It took her a moment to regain her composure. “Good morning.” She turned in his direction, but his tousled hair and still sleepy eyes were too much for her and she quickly turned back to studying her fox. She tried not to acknowledge the fact that she had noticed the way his pajama pants settled on his hips and the smallest sliver of skin she had been able to see peek out from beneath an old grey t-shirt.

His voice was still heavy with sleep, and she wondered if she had somehow made noise to wake him. “You sleep okay?”

She nodded, focusing on her work and wondering if he would stop distracting her if she pretended she were occupied hard enough.

But he showed no such consideration. He yawned and said something that could have been, “Good,” followed by a cavalier stretch and a, “Did you want breakfast, or you just going to sit by that old window all day long.”

She actually couldn’t help but smile, and was glad he had already begun to move toward the kitchen and hadn’t caught her in the act.
 

“I guess I could maybe use some breakfast.”

His response was a single grunt from the vicinity of the stove.
 

Charisma folded up the sketchbook, lining her pencils neatly alongside the pad of paper before picking up and following Jared into the kitchen. By the time she made it onto the tiled floor, he had already procured eggs from the refrigerator and was in the process of pulling a large skillet out of one of the oversized cupboards. She watched him crack the eggs as she pulled out a carton of milk from the depths of the refrigerator. In one of the cupboards she found mismatching glasses. She pulled one out that looked like it had been part of a collector’s series from a fast food restaurant. A giant smiling hamburger graced the glass, long since faded. Charisma poured it to the brim with milk. There was nothing like personifying the foods you were about to eat. If that didn’t say something about their society, she wasn’t sure what did.