What About Charlie? (6 page)

Charlie shook her head. Doing that might ease her conscience, but the main problem would remain. Her father would still demand that she come live with him. She desperately hoped he had cooled down enough to discuss this reasonably over supper.

Taking a seat at the kitchen table, Charlie continued to watch for him through the window, her nerves almost strung to a breaking point. The need to get this settled grated on her. She wanted to talk and get things settled between them. A few seconds later, unable to take the waiting any longer, she grabbed a jacket and headed out the kitchen door in search of him to resolve this situation one way or another.

Stepping out the back door, the cold wind seemed to slice through her thin jacket. Stuffing her hands into the pockets, she put her head down and made her way to the machine shed. It was eerily quiet.

“Daddy?” she called, looking around the corner.

As she walked around the front of the tractor, Charlie screamed in horror, her hands flying up to her mouth. Henry was lying on the ground.

“Daddy!” Charlie screamed, running to him and kneeling beside him. His brown eyes were glazed. Without even thinking or feeling, she put her hand to his chest to feel if he was breathing. He was motionless.

Charlie bent, pressing her lips to her fathers, blowing life-saving breaths into him. She then placed her hands on his chest, compressing it up and down. She paused for a moment. His chest still didn’t move.

Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her eyes blurred; she tasted her salty tears on her lips.

Hysteria enveloped her. She gave him several more quick breaths, then pumped his chest again. “You can’t die on me, daddy. You can’t. You can’t,” she repeated in a tortured voice again and again while she gave him breaths and pumped his chest. How long she stayed there trying to bring her father back to life she didn’t know. Time seemed to blur.

Finally sitting back on her heels, she numbly stared at him. His face had turned blue. Touching his cheek, only then did she notice how cold he was. A sense of finality overcame her. Realizing that he was gone, she took her hand and gently brushed his eyelids closed.

Shaking, she leaned over him, hugging him to her chest, wishing that for one last time she could feel his arms encircled around her.

Keosauqua, Iowa was just as Evan had imagined it would be from Charlie’s vivid descriptions over the years – wide paved streets, the historic courthouse in the center of town, and the Des Moines River flowing nearby beneath a majestic silver metal bridge. To him Keosauqua looked like the typical American small town.

At least from what he could see of it.

It was well past midnight. He’d been traveling since eight that evening, going well beyond the speed limit to get to Charlie’s farm. Through the entire trip, her tearful voice played like a tape recorder over and over in his mind. It had been weak, barely above a whisper. Barely able to understand her, he finally deciphered that her father had died. Hearing her trembling, grief laden voice, his gut felt like it had dropped to his knees.

Charlie was alone; she was in pain. She hadn’t asked him to come be with her. Without giving a second thought, however, he had decided that his place was there with her. After reassuring her that he would be there soon, he hung up, got the driving directions to Keosauqua off the internet, threw some clothes in a duffle bag and was on his way to be with Charlie.

Now he was almost there, dreading the next several days to come. He was going to help Charlie anyway he could, but to be honest, he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the prospect. As a physician, he was able to maintain an emotional distance with his patients and their families. On a personal level, however, he was a man who admittedly had difficulty expressing his innermost feelings to those closest to him. As a result, he had intense difficulty really expressing emotion when he needed to. When tense, emotional situations arose in his personal life, often the right words failed to come to him, and, instead of sounding caring and concerned, he came off as cool and aloof, uncaring.

And while he was more at ease with Charlie than with anyone else in his entire life, he always held his feelings and emotions in check. In this situation, however, he feared that he was going to be unable to maintain his distance. Not in this situation. It was impossible. Not only was she his best friend, she had become a very important part of his life. Maybe too much.

Finally pulling up to Charlie’s farm house, he took a deep breath and leaned his forehead on the steering wheel, trying to steel himself against what was going to come. Looking up, the yard was bathed in a yellow glow, lit up by a big light mounted on a pole next to the house. The small white house itself was dark with no light visible from the windows.

Wearily he got out of the car and hurried up the sidewalk to the front door. He knocked loudly, impatiently waiting for Charlie to answer. After several minutes with no answer, he began to worry. Where could she be? Was something wrong? Surely, she wasn’t so overcome with grief that she’d done something foolish. A sense of urgency consumed him. He tried opening the door only to find it locked. Maybe the back door was unlocked.

He turned and was halfway down the steps when the door opened with a squeak. Charlie stood there in the doorway wearing a thin robe, her face, illuminated from the outside light, drawn and pale. Her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks covered with crimson splotches.

Without saying a word, Evan ran up the steps and gathered her into his arms, wrapping them tightly around her warm body. Charlie encircled her arms around his waist burying her face in the crook of his neck. Sobs escaped from deep within her body.

Holding onto each other tightly, neither noticed the cool night air, the stiff breeze swirling around them. All time and space seemed to stop at that moment. It was just them, this moment of grief and nothing else.

Evan felt helpless, felt unsure of what he should do. It was one of the few times in his life he felt truly inept. Doing the only thing he knew to do, he held Charlie tight in his grasp. He lightly caressed her back with his hand, feeling the bumps of her spine, the rise and fall of her ribs as she cried.

This was the first time he’d ever held her like this. She felt warm and soft beneath her thin robe, her full breasts pressed firmly against his chest. Her soft hair tickled his nose, the scent of strawberries and wildflowers teased his nostrils. Had she always smelled like this? Why hadn’t he ever noticed? How could he not have noticed?

Charlie’s sobs, her despair and sadness, wrenched his guts. What could he do to help her? What could he do?

Feeling Charlie loosen her arms around him, he stepped back from her and gazed worriedly into her eyes. He kept hold of her hands, reluctant to break the connection between them, needing for whatever reason to feel her warm hands in his.

Evan smiled, glad to see her inner strength showing. “I don’t have any doubt about that, Charlie. But you’re my best friend. How could I stay in St. Louis and leave you to deal with this all alone? I wanted to be here for you, Charlie. I know how much you loved your Dad, how much he meant to you.”

She nodded, wiping at an errant tear that was rolling down her right cheek. “We’d always been so close, especially when mom got sick and died. It doesn’t seem like any of this is for real. Is it Evan? Is this for real?”

Sadly, he nodded. “I wish I could tell you it’s just a bad dream, Charlie.”

“Me too, Evan.” Looking away from him, her gaze came to rest on his chest. “I’ve soaked your shirt.”

A stiff breeze picked up, causing Charlie’s robe to billow behind her. She shivered. “Oh, come in, Evan. I didn’t realize it was so cold. I bet you’re freezing to death only wearing a short sleeve shirt and it being wet on top of that.”

Evan nodded, having seen the same reaction in families of patients who had died. They needed to move, to stay busy in order to keep their minds off the situation at hand. His own mother had been that way when her mother had died. She’d cleaned closets, dusted and mopped all hours of the day and night until she literally collapsed from lack of sleep and exhaustion. During her convalescence, she finally came to terms with her mother’s death. Following Charlie into the kitchen, Evan decided he would need to watch her to make sure she didn’t do as his own mother had done.

Bright fluorescent lights lit the small kitchen. Yellow swag curtains hung from the windows and crocheted potholders hung on the walls. A canister set featuring a white duck was neatly placed in order of size on the white Formica countertop. Evan sat at the small kitchen table, enjoying the warm and cozy atmosphere while he watched Charlie.

By the time their hot chocolate was ready, her tears had dried, though her eyes still remained red and swollen. Together they silently sat at the kitchen table sipping the rich, warm cocoa.

“I found my mother dead, too, you know.”

Evan looked up from his cocoa to Charlie in surprise. She stared, as in a trance, out the window into the darkness. He’d known Charlie’s mother had died from cancer, but he’d never known the circumstances of her death. “I didn’t.”

“She’d come home to die. I was only seven at the time, and though my parents never told me, I knew.” Her voice was soft, matter-of-fact. “She was weak and could barely eat. If she drank a bowl of broth a day, she was doing good. While daddy worked the farm, I watched over mama. I’d sit with her and hold her hand, just so glad that she was home with us and not in that cold hospital. I kept busy during the day with chores, but at night I’d cry myself to sleep. I didn’t want to lose my mom. I was so scared. But I knew her death was inevitable. There was nothing anyone could do. Then one day she quietly slipped away from us. I’d gone into the kitchen to fix supper, and when I got back to mama, she was gone. A picture of the three of us was clutched in her hand.”

Evan’s felt his throat constrict. “That must’ve been hard, Charlie,” he managed to say, wishing then he could think of something wise and comforting to say.

“It was, but daddy and I got through it. We leaned on each other and made it through.” Charlie looked back at Evan. “Now he’s gone, too, Evan.” She gave a heavy sigh. “If there’s any consolation, I know he and mama are together again.”

****

Evan tossed and turned, rolling onto his left side, then his right, then shifting to his back. No matter what he did, he couldn’t seem to get comfortable. The couch was lumpy and his feet dangled over the end. But he knew his sleeplessness was caused by much more than that. Usually he could sleep in any position.

No, it wasn’t the couch. He was worried about Charlie. She was clearly devastated by her father’s death. They’d been so close. Now he was gone.

He couldn’t imagine finding one of his parents dead, especially at such a young age as she had been when she found her mother. That had to have been absolutely horrible.

Evan wondered if she had any close relatives, maybe some cousins or an aunt or uncle. He’d never heard her talk of anyone else but her father. The thought of her being all alone in the world made him feel cold.

Rolling over onto his left side again, he tried once more to find a comfortable position. Perhaps he should sleep on the floor. It might be more comfortable than the couch. At least he could stretch out.

Sitting up, Evan stretched his arms, then massaged the back of his stiff neck with his hand. His eyes roved about the small den, taking in an elegant cherry wood desk, a worn wing back chair, and several family pictures hanging on the wall. His gaze came to rest on a picture of Charlie with her father when she was a teenager. She looked much the same now as she did in the picture.

Though Charlie’s childhood home was very humble, it was full of warmth and love, a house he would have liked to have grown up in. His own childhood home was more like a museum than a home. His mother had rare and valuable antiques scattered throughout the house, making it difficult to even relax. When he was growing up, he’d been afraid that he’d break one of her vases or soil one of the cloth covered sofas. The antiques were centerpieces and the décor was built around them, leaving little room for homey touches and the warmth they brought.

Charlie’s home was definitely a place where a person could feel comfortable, feel relaxed, safe and secure. He thought her fortunate to grow up in such an atmosphere.

A muffled sound, almost like a sob, caught his attention. He listened and heard it again. It was coming from the room next door. Charlie’s room. Evan stood and put his ear to the wall that separated her room and the room he was in. She was crying. His gut tightened. It about killed him to hear her cry.