Seasons of Sorrow (29 page)

He pulled her close for a kiss then Charlotte went back to her position lying at his side with her head on his shoulder and her arm and leg thrown over his body.

“So what’s next?” she asked, tracing a finger over his chest and abdomen.

Greg rolled over so that he was stretched out on top of her. He put a hand on either side of her head. His face was only inches from hers.

“What do you want to do next?” he asked before lowering his head to trail his mouth down her neck to her collarbone.

Charlotte felt a shiver run through her at his touch.

Feeling a bit mischievous, she ran her nails down his back. “I don’t know,” she said. “I’m feeling a bit peckish.”

Greg chuckled against her throat before he lifted his head. “Peckish?”

She made a face at him. “Yes, peckish.”

The expression on his face changed again. It became hungry, but Charlotte doubted he wanted food.

“We can eat later,” he said.

Charlotte wound her arms around Greg’s neck and wrapped her legs around his hips. As his mouth resumed it’s leisurely exploration of her neck once again, she couldn’t resist teasing him.

“But what if I’m hungry now?” she asked.

Greg lifted his head to look at her and Charlotte couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face.

“Are really that hungry?” he growled.

She shook her head and squealed when he lightly pinched her nipple in retaliation.

“But I could have been,” she gasped as he shifted his hips and ground his erection against her.

“Then we’ll make this quick and go downstairs for food.” His fingers toyed with her nipples, plucking them gently until her back arched. “You’ll need the fuel for later because we are nowhere near done.”

“That sounds like a plan,” she whispered breathily as she pulled his head down so that she could kiss him.

Though he promised to make it fast, it was almost two hours before they made out of the bed and downstairs for food. By that time, Charlotte really was starving.

Chapter Twenty-Five

T
he next two weeks were incredible. Charlotte wanted to wallow in the sensations and emotions that Greg evoked in her. She dove headlong into it all. They spent every evening together. She usually cooked for them, though Greg did grill chicken or steak several times and baked huge potatoes. Charlotte usually made salad when Greg decided that meat and potatoes were on the menu.

They would spend their evenings either watching television or taking long walks before they made love. The neighborhood was near a pretty city park that had a nice walking trail. She and Greg would go out in the crisp autumn air and walk for close to an hour or more. They usually held hands and talked. Charlotte knew that a lot of women probably wouldn’t find that romantic, but it was exactly what she needed.

For months she had limited herself to work or home only. She rarely went out and stopped taking her morning runs after Adam died. Greg and Brandy had made sure that she didn’t have a lot of time to sit around and mope while she was home, but she needed the fresh air and the exercise.

The beginning of the third week, Charlotte woke up in the middle of the night with the realization that Adam’s birthday was in five days. The epiphany shook her to her core.

While she still missed her little boy every single day, her world was no longer consumed by the loss. She was moving on with her life and that knowledge was bittersweet. Guilt and grief battled with happiness and contentment within her. Charlotte was finding happiness with Greg, and it wracked her with guilt.

She never thought she could be happy again, yet she was. She thought she would never truly be alive again after Adam died, yet she was. Charlotte had never been so conflicted. She wanted everything that Greg was offering, yet she hesitated to take it.

Charlotte lay next to Greg, her train of thought bouncing all over the place. She glanced at the alarm clock next to her. It was two in the morning and she wasn’t sure she would be able to go back to sleep. She closed her eyes and tried to force herself back into slumber, but it wasn’t working.

Finally, she sighed quietly and slid away from Greg’s warm body, out of the bed. Charlotte had gone to bed wearing a huge men’s t-shirt and a pair of panties, which Greg had promptly removed, and passed out before she could redress. She grabbed her tee and panties from the floor and put them on.

Then she silently padded out of the bedroom and into Adam’s bedroom. Neither Greg or Brandy had suggested that she pack up his things, but Charlotte was beginning to think it was time. He had been gone eight of the longest months of her life. Each time she considered it, however, her heart twisted in her chest and she changed her mind.

Tonight, Charlotte walked through his room, picking up two of his stuffed animals. She settled into the glider, holding the toys to her chest. She looked around the room, wondering how things would have changed by now if Adam was still with her. He would have been a year old within the week.

Charlotte tried to picture what his face might look like now, but it was difficult to imagine. She clutched the small stuffed animals to her chest and rocked slowly in the glider, trying to stop the wild workings of her mind.

A movement from the doorway startled her. Charlotte’s head jerked around as she gasped. Greg stood in the doorway, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs.

“You scared me,” she said quietly.

Greg came closer and sat on the footstool that went with the glider, putting his elbows on his knees and letting his hands hang freely. “What’s wrong, Charlotte?”

She fidgeted with the toys in her hands. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Greg put his hands over hers, stilling her nervous movements. “Why?”

“This week is Adam’s birthday,” she answered softly.

Comprehension crossed Greg’s face. “I knew it was soon, but time got away from me.” He paused. “It’s on October twenty-third, right?”

Charlotte nodded.

“Have you asked for the day off yet?” he asked.

She nodded again.

“I planned to take the day off myself.”

Charlotte started to argue, but Greg just lifted his hand.

“Please don’t argue with me,” he said. “I want, no, I
need
to be here with you, Charlie. I know this is going to be difficult for you.”

All her arguments went out of her then. Honestly, she wanted Greg with her. He made her stronger. For all her conflicted emotions, deep in her heart she knew that she needed him.

“Come back to bed,” he said softly.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to go back to sleep,” Charlotte answered.

“Then just lie with me. I need to hold you.”

She nodded and stood. Carefully, she placed the stuffed animals back on their shelf and followed Greg back to the bedroom. Greg needed to hold her and she needed to be held. Despite her thoughts that she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, Charlotte closed her eyes an hour later and slept deeply.

Adam’s birthday brought the first cold front of the year. The weather in Texas typically stayed warm through October, sometimes even through November, but there was always at least one or two weeks that the temperature would drop twenty, sometimes even thirty degrees, and the sweaters and boots would come out.

Charlotte woke up huddled next to Greg, shivering. For the first time in months, she had a nightmare about the morning she found Adam. She wasn’t sure if her shivering was due to the dream or the fact that they had forgotten to turn on the heat in anticipation of the temperature drop. She must have awoken Greg with her shudders because he climbed out of bed and ran to the thermostat upstairs to turn on the heater. A few minutes later, the musty smell that accompanied the first run of the heat cycle filled the house.

Greg dashed back to the bed and climbed under the covers. He pulled her into his arms, and Charlotte buried her face against his bare chest. The nightmare unsettled her. It had been a while since it plagued her and it seemed so much harsher after the reprieve. Charlotte sighed. She didn’t want to get out of bed, but she had to face the day.

As though he could hear her thoughts, Greg kissed her forehead. “I’m going to go downstairs and make us some coffee, okay?”

“That sounds good,” she answered softly.

That got another kiss on her forehead before Greg rolled out of bed. Charlotte lay there for a moment then she too climbed out from under the covers. There was still a slight chill in the air. She decided a hot shower was exactly what she needed.

While she was in the shower, she heard Greg come in with her coffee. She glanced over and saw him set it on the vanity. Typically, he would have stripped down and joined her under the spray, but he sensed, accurately, that Charlotte wasn’t in the mood to play this morning.

After she scrubbed her skin beneath the hot spray, Charlotte stepped out of the shower, dried off, and wrapped herself up in a fluffy white robe. She sipped the coffee Greg brought her as she dried her hair, moisturized her face, and put on her make-up.

Greg came in as she finished and started his shower. Charlotte left the room without speaking, lost in her thoughts. She went into her closet and pulled on a pair of faded skinny jeans, a dark grey-blue sweater that reminded her of Greg’s eyes, and her shearling knee high boots.

She took her coffee cup downstairs for a refill while Greg finished getting ready. A glance out the kitchen window showed the day to be cold, rainy, and dreary. It reminded her of the day of Adam’s funeral. It seemed fitting that his birthday should mirror the day that she buried him.

Her heart heavy, Charlotte drank more hot coffee and made toast with jelly and butter for breakfast. She wasn’t very hungry, but she knew that Greg would insist she eat something. Toast and yogurt would be all she could handle.

When Greg came downstairs, he saw that she made breakfast.

“Thanks for breakfast, Char. I could have done it.”

She shrugged and drank more coffee. “I wasn’t very hungry, so this seemed like the best thing.”

Greg had taken the day off to be with her. Probably because he knew that she wouldn’t take care of herself if left to her own devices. They ate their toast in silence. Charlotte glanced at the clock, surprised to see it was nearly nine in the morning.

“I ordered a bouquet from the florist,” she told Greg. “It will be ready at ten. After we pick it up, I’d like to go straight to the cemetery,” she said.

He nodded.

At nine-thirty, Charlotte got her purse. Greg started to head out the front door, likely to start his truck, but she stopped him.

“I’d like to take my car,” she said softly. “It’s cold and the seats are heated.”

“Of course,” he said, changing direction to take her keys from her and kissing her lips lightly. “Whatever you want.”

She didn’t bother to argue about who would drive. She was too distracted today to handle being behind the wheel anyway.

Charlotte followed him out to the garage and climbed into the passenger seat. The drive to the florist seemed to fly by. After Greg paid for the flowers she chose and picked up a bouquet of his own, they set out for the cemetery.

This time, Charlotte spoke very little. She just stood at the foot of Adam’s grave and relived every horrific moment of the morning she found him and performed CPR on his little, limp body. Then the nightmarish movie in her head continued with memories of his funeral.