Walk Me Home

by Liza Kendall

  Charlie looked at Kristina with grateful eyes. Brandon was still very, very good-looking by anybody’s measure, but he was also still very, very broken.

  Somehow, they worked through all eleven cakes, groaning with pleasure and guilt over all the sugar.

  Lila was going for seconds on a Red Velvet groom’s cake when her cell phone rang. “’Lo?” she managed around a large mouthful.

  Even though it wasn’t on speaker, Charlie heard Jake’s voice clearly. “How’s your head, dumb-ass?” His affection was clear, despite the crude words, and it warmed Charlie’s heart.

  Lila chewed and swallowed. “Aw, Jakey. You haven’t called me that in years! It makes me feel so special.”

  “Don’t feel so special that you sing.”

  “I’m really starting to feel ganged up on now. Others have commented, too.” She looked around darkly.

  “You don’t say,” Jake said. “Are you still bringing that tuxedo over, or are you going to send someone who can still walk in a straight line without hurling?”

  “Oh, please. It wasn’t that bad.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “But now that you mention it”—Lila looked up at Charlie with a gleam in her eye—“I’m gonna send Charlie.”

  Charlie sucked in a breath, but Jake didn’t miss a beat. “Great. Send her soon. I’m on call this afternoon. So really, how are you feeling?”

  “I feel awesome.”

  “You lie. And you snore.”

  “I’m hanging up now, bro.”

  “I’m pretty sure I just heard you say, ‘Thank you, Jake, for taking my drunk butt home and putting me to bed.’”

  “Nope. I don’t think you heard me say it. But I do appreciate it.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Even if it was just an excuse to hang with Charlie!”

  Charlie blushed.

  “I’m hanging up now, sis.”

  Lila smirked. “You do that.” Then she ate another piece of cake.

  * * *

  The firehouse door was up, and Big Red was gone. Charlie hopped down from Progress and grabbed the tuxedo, in its garment bag, from the passenger side. She walked into the garage, took a look around at the orderly piles of equipment, the boots and jackets and hats hung carefully on brass hooks. Jake’s name on the back of his fireman’s jacket was faded but still legible, and it made her smile.

  This is Jake’s world. This is where Jake is happiest.

  He’d sounded good on the phone to Lila, joking and laughing. But a pang of doubt hit Charlie hard as she stood in the empty garage, gripping the unwieldy bag. What if, in the light of day, he regretted kissing her again?

  “Hi.”

  Charlie wheeled around. Jake stood there in his uniform, framed in the doorway leading up the stairs to the living quarters. Oh, did he look good. And all that used to be mine.

  “Hi.” Charlie moistened her lips, suddenly nervous. She held up the garment bag containing Jake’s tuxedo for the wedding. “Special delivery!” She released a calming breath. “If you’re going to tell me last night’s kiss was a mistake, too, then this would be your moment.”

  Jake stuck his hands in his pockets and cocked his head. “Well, now, let’s see.”

  He has to think about it?

  Suddenly, Jake burst out laughing. He came down the last few steps and took the bag off Charlie’s hands, hanging it on a utility hook by the light switch. “You should see your face!”

  “What’s wrong with my face?” Charlie asked, relaxing now. He did not seem like a man with regrets.

  “Oh. You want me to get specific?” Jake walked—no, prowled—toward her with a mischievous grin on his face.

  “What are you doing?” Charlie said, laughing even as she backed up, dodging a grease stain and an orange safety cone.

  “You know my job is to right wrongs, so let’s see.” He caught her in his arms and gently pressed a kiss on her nose. “No, that wasn’t it. That didn’t feel wrong. Maybe here . . .” He kissed her right under her ear. “I’d better keep checking . . .”

  Oh, thought Charlie, on a sigh. This is what it would have been like. Oh my. This is what it could be like.

  Could there really be a second chance here?

  Jake whispered softly against her ear, “Missed you so much.”

  Her breath caught, half on a sob, half on cloud nine. She couldn’t find the words, but as his lips slid down her jawline and he took her mouth with his, for the first time since she’d given him up and sent him away, she imagined the possibility of taking that chance.

  They couldn’t change the past, but maybe, just maybe, there was a future here.

  Chapter 16

  When Charlie stopped by to check on Granddad, her heart rose at the sight of him: He was sitting bolt upright in bed, TV remote in hand. He was more animated than she’d seen him since he’d gotten so cranky about Jake turning out to be his physical therapist.

  Then she discovered why: He was eviscerating the talking head on the news. The talking head wearing a fire chief’s helmet and a grim, weary expression. Five people had been killed in a high-rise condo fire in downtown Austin.

  The chief began. “We are very sorry to say—”

  “Damn straight you’re sorry!” Granddad growled. “A sorry bunch. What d’you do, ladies—change into evening gowns before heading out to not save the day?”

  Oh, good Lord. Not more of this.

  Charlie almost turned on her heel and ran away. Then she realized that she might be the nurses’ only savior from his obnoxious behavior. Stifling a sigh, she went in.

  “Too busy posing for a beefcake calendar?” he accused the unknown chief on the screen.

  “Hi, Granddad!” Charlie aimed a bright smile at him and bent to kiss his withered cheek. “How are you feeling?”

  “Aargh.”

  “Really? That’s wonderful.”

  He pointed at the television. “More nincompoops—”

  “Who’s got vanilla pudding? Huh? D’you think it’s me?” Charlie extracted two of the packaged desserts from her handbag, along with a plastic spoon and a Halloween-themed napkin. “You hungry?”

  “Aargh!”

  “Use your words, Granddad.”

  “Don’t patronize me.” He scowled. “I got plenty of real choice words I can use. French ones, if you take my meaning.”

  “Grandma Babe would not approve of them.” Charlie took the remote control off his bedside table. “Mind if I turn this off so we can visit?”

  “Yes.”

  She raised an eyebrow at him and clicked it off anyway.

  “Hey!”

  “Granddad, I won’t be in town forever. Let’s just hang out and talk. You can get riled up at the news any old time.”

  He grunted.

  “Pudding?”

  He nodded. “Thank ya.”

  She peeled off the plastic film on the top, then handed him one. “Maybe I’ll try making Grandma’s one of these days.”

  “That so? All’s I remember is that it had lots of milk and egg yolks in it.” His expression went dreamy. “She’d warm up the milk, and I sure hated that smell, but then she’d somehow turn it into heaven.”

  “She sure did. So how’s your hip doing?”

  “Better. I plan on getting out of here for young Will’s wedding.”

  “That’s only a few days away. You sure?”

  “Yep. I don’t want to disappoint Sadie. Though that young lady of Will’s—I got my doubts about her. She’ll lead him around by the nose, if he ain’t careful.”

  Charlie bit back a smile. “She’s a little headstrong.”

  “Spoiled rotten, by the look of her.”

  Charlie didn’t say a word.

  “So I’m glad you’re here, girlie. We need to go over
my talking points for the town council meeting.”

  Oh no. No way. “Granddad—”

  “I got research now from neighboring towns and counties: facts, figures, statistics, reports. Armed and dangerous, I am! Or, uh, you’ll be.”

  “Granddad,” Charlie said, “I told you that I would think about it, and I have. I do not feel comfortable presenting a case to do away with the Silverlake Fire and Rescue crew’s salaries.”

  “Oh, you don’t feel comfortable, do you? Well, I don’t feel comfortable with a plastic hip socket. I don’t feel comfortable without your grandmother.”

  “Look, Granddad—”

  “I’m asking you to do one small thing for me. One.”

  “It’s not small!”

  “You still hung up on that mooching layabout?”

  “He is no such thing, Granddad. And, no, I’m not hung up on Jake Braddock. But—”

  “Then you’ll do what I ask.”

  “It’s not a reasonable request!”

  “Oh, now I’m unreasonable, am I? The cheek and the disrespect of your generation is astonishing.”

  “What? I—”

  “Who’s family here? Who’s your flesh and blood?”

  “How does that have anything to do with—”

  “It’s got to do with loyalty, damn it.”

  “No, it—”

  “Whose granddaughter are you?” he shouted, his nostrils flaring.

  “Granddad, please calm down!”

  He raised himself up on his elbows. “Who raised your mother? Whose house did you grow up in?” He was almost hyperventilating. “Who had a role in feeding you, clothing you, teaching you manners? Huh?”

  “Please—”

  “Who taught you how to ride a bicycle?”

  “Lower your voice—”

  “Was it Jake blasted Braddock?” Spittle and hatred flew from his dry gash of a mouth.

  “And don’t elevate your blood pressure—”

  “Any of those layabout firefighters?”

  “Granddad—”

  “Answer me! Was it?” He was almost unrecognizable, with his bushy old eyebrows drawn down, his eyes narrowed to slits, his face contorted.

  “No.” She was afraid he was going to have a stroke, or a seizure of some kind.

  “So your loyalty is to whom here?”

  “I told you, this isn’t a question of loyalty.”

  “Yes, it damn well is!” He suddenly clutched at his chest and swore.

  “Granddad!” Charlie bolted toward him. “What’s happening?”

  He opened and closed his mouth but said nothing, which threw her into a panic.

  “Mia!” screamed Charlie, running now toward the door. “Help! Get his doctor! Get any doctor—I think my grandfather’s having a heart attack!”

  A different nurse came running from the room next door.

  Granddad’s color was still purplish, and he fell back against his pillows.

  Tears streamed down Charlie’s face. “You’re okay, you’re okay,” she repeated over and over. “Please be okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry . . .”

  He nodded at her. Weakly raised an index finger to point at her.

  “Fine, I’ll do it. Whatever you want,” she promised. “Just stop getting upset.”

  “Desk drawer,” he rasped as two more nurses and an ER doctor rushed in. “File. Take it. Friday.”

  Charlie nodded, weeping as the medical personnel circled around him, trading instructions in tightly controlled voices, the crash cart obscuring her view. “All right, Granddad,” she managed to choke out. “I’ll be there. As your proxy. I promise.”

  I’m sorry, Jake. I’m so sorry.

  Oh God. Some things never changed.

  Once Granddad was stabilized, sedated, and sleeping, Mia ordered Charlie to get out of the hospital and get some sleep. Initially, she refused. But in the face of more pressure from Mia, she reluctantly headed back to her grandfather’s apartment.

  Thank God he was all right.

  Granddad’s place was small, spare, and tidy, though it smelled of sour old man. It was a bachelor’s space, populated by three fishing rods, a gray tackle box, and some books: history, politics, and biographies. It had standard-issue beige carpeting and was furnished with a dreadful brown velour recliner, a matching love seat with a hand-knit afghan over the back of it, and a large television. On the shelf holding the books was an eight-by-ten silver-framed photo of the whole Nash family in happier times.

  It depressed Charlie to see it, but she’d gone numb after the scene in the hospital; after seeing Granddad on the brink of death, she had no more tears left.

  There wasn’t much in the tiny galley kitchen besides a jar of change and some small white apartment appliances: stove, microwave, dishwasher. Plus a case of Ensure facing off against a case of vanilla pudding. Vanilla pudding—the family comfort food.

  What a crazy few days. She’d fallen off a ladder and into Jake’s arms. He’d dug her out of the mud. They’d babysat a drunken Lila. They’d played True Confessions. He’d kissed her twice, and she hadn’t exactly minded . . . but now she was going to have to attack his livelihood or alienate her granddad! And then stand up with him in Felicity and Will’s wedding. How, exactly, was this all going to work? God help her.

  So your loyalty is to whom here? Granddad had ranted.

  To both of you, Charlie thought. How do I choose?

  That pudding was going to come in handy. Even if she had already eaten her weight in cake.

  Charlie’s skinny jeans were cutting off the blood flow to her legs. She felt as if an overambitious boa constrictor had swallowed her lower half and now regretted it. Plus, two of her toes had gone numb from being crammed into her high-heeled pumps.

  She kicked those off in the bedroom, peeled off the accursed jeans, and padded into the kitchen. She lunged at Granddad’s vanilla puddings and ate two in quick succession, barely registering that she was doing it. And that’s when the idea came to her: She would ask someone else to be his proxy. Mia? Kristina? Amelie? She wasn’t picky. Even Vic the plumber—he had his quirks, but he was a sweetie.

  That was her out. She’d find a different proxy, and then everything would be okay.

  Her thoughts turned to her late-night conversation with Jake.

  I swear to you by all that’s holy, Charlie, that I had nothing to do with the fire.

  She believed him. She couldn’t help but believe him.

  But if Jake wasn’t responsible, then that left only Brandon. Didn’t it?

  Ugh. She didn’t want to acknowledge that suspicion.

  She ate a third pudding while she thought about how to broach the past with her brother. Would it send him into yet another tailspin? She didn’t know.

  But she now had more questions . . . ones to which she wasn’t sure she wanted the answers.

  They came to her anyway. Lack of evidence—that was the reason her parents had given her for not pursuing charges against Jake. That was even Jake’s belief. But somehow she knew there was more to the story.

  The investigators and the psychologists went away. But her parents had still moved them almost overnight to Dallas.

  Charlie got to her feet and went into the living room to look at the picture of the family all together. Granddad had his arm slung around Grandma, and they stood smiling next to Dad’s wheelchair. Mom sat on the right arm of it, leaning in toward him. Brandon lay propped on his elbow in the grass at Dad’s feet. And she, Charlie, sat cross-legged next to him.

  Aunt Sadie, Dad’s sister and her cousin Will’s mom, had taken the picture one Thanksgiving. She must have given Granddad a copy, since everything had been destroyed in the fire.

  Charlie looked closely at Brandon’s face. It was youthful, carefree, faintly bored. His mouth tugged upward.
He was waiting for the world to hand him a happy, prosperous future. He looked like a completely different person than he did now.

  Today’s Brandon rarely smiled or laughed, and when he did, he seemed to want to punish himself for it.

  Charlie began to add it all up: Brandon’s inability to move past the incident, his refusal to even talk about Jake, the way he hurt himself, the general wreckage of his life . . . it all spoke volumes. So did their parents’ silence on the topic.

  With shaking hands, she dialed Brandon’s number.

  Brandon answered on the third ring. “What’s up, Charlie?” His voice was deep and a little sluggish. “How’s Granddad?”

  She pictured him lounging on the gray couch in his apartment, probably in a Cowboys sweatshirt and jeans that hadn’t been washed in a week. His hair would be too long. He’d have a beer in front of him, sitting among crumbs on the coffee table.

  “Granddad is super weak. He had a heart attack earlier today.”

  Her brother seemed stunned. “Is he all right?”

  “Yeah . . . he’s doing better. There’s a chance he’ll still be able to go to Will’s wedding. So that’s hope right there.”

  “Okay,” her brother mumbled. “Good. Glad to hear it.” A TV program gabbled in the background; Brandon’s TV was almost as large as his couch.

  “Are you coming in for the wedding on Saturday?”

  Silence.

  She sighed. “Did you even RSVP, Brandon? He is your cousin.”

  “I forgot.”

  “Well, I’m sure you’d still be welcome. I don’t really think Granddad will be out of the hospital by then, so I doubt he’ll make it. But you could visit him while you’re here—I know he’d love to see you.”

  More silence.

  “Brandon? You there?”

  “Uh, yeah. I’ll think about it.”

  “They sent out the invitations six weeks ago. You haven’t had enough time to think about coming?”

  “Get off my ass, Charlie.” And then after a pause he asked, “You okay being back there so long?”

  “I’m fine,” she said. Which was more or less true. She took a deep breath. “So I’ve run into Jake Braddock a couple of times.” Her tone was a little too casual, especially in light of the fact that their family hadn’t brought up his name in twelve years.