Charlotte's Homecoming

by Janice Kay Johnson

  Maybe his certainty wasn’t rational, but there it was, a jagged chunk of rock in the morass of all his other emotions.

  “When?” he asked hoarsely. “When is her flight?”

  Faith’s eyes widened. “Um… I don’t have it written down. There wasn’t any reason… Let me think. She grumbled a little, because she had a choice of crack of dawn and almost midday, and she went with the midday. Eleven-thirty, I think. Or eleven-forty. Something like that.”

  His muscles had tensed. “The airline?”

  “Virgin America. She said they had the best rate….”

  Faith hadn’t even finished by the time a couple of long strides took him back to the driver side of his car.

  “You’re probably too late,” Faith called after him. “By the time you get there, she’ll have long since gone through security.”

  He looked at her over the roof of the car. “I have to try. If she calls…” His throat closed.

  She nodded. “Good luck, Gray. Char needs to be loved.”

  He sucked in a painful breath and nodded. “I think she knows I love her. Why else would she pack up and leave the minute I turned my back? Without calling to let me know?”

  Faith didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. Gray could see in her eyes that she knew why her twin had fled with no advance warning.

  Gray backed out and left so fast, he was a mile down the highway and could still see the cloud of dust floating above the Russell farm.

  JUST THROUGH THE AIRPORT SECURITY checkpoint, Charlotte slipped her shoes back on, put her laptop back in its case and grabbed it and her carry-on. She glanced again at her boarding pass. Gate A14 would undoubtedly turn out to be in the far reaches of the airport terminal. She’d never yet taken a flight anywhere that left from a close-in gate. Charlotte had always suspected that the first gates were dummies, like the fake towns and houses she’d seen on the Universal Studio tour. Probably the people slumped in the waiting areas were extras. Who paid them she hadn’t figured out, but otherwise it made sense, she thought.

  A14, she discovered right away from a directory, was at the very far corner of this wing of the main terminal. She trudged down the broad hallway, passing a bookstore and a Starbucks and various restaurants, but not tempted by any of them even though she had plenty of time to kill. Her mood had been strange since she’d gotten up this morning.

  Or even earlier, she acknowledged, finally reaching the waiting area and claiming a seat at the end of a row. Maybe even since she’d hugged Faith goodbye and headed south in the rental car.

  Or, worse yet, since Gray had given her a last, hard kiss before she got out of his car Saturday night.

  She had been such a coward, not telling him about the job interviews or that she had to go back to San Francisco. Not returning his phone call. Running away when she knew he was out of town.

  She’d been so sure she needed distance and time to think, to decide if everything she imagined she was feeling was some kind of weird delusion, probably brought on by the experience of going home again—really going home, not just visiting in body while leaving her spirit behind, the way she’d always done before.

  For the first time, Charlotte admitted to herself that she might not be here at all if Gray had canceled his trip and showed up at the farm Sunday or Monday to insist they talk.

  Or even if he’d said more when he called. His brief message had been remarkably unrevealing. If he’d really wanted to talk to her, to see her, it wasn’t in his nature to politely wait to hear from her.

  Charlotte shivered, hating to feel so desperate and uncertain. Life had been easier when she could enjoy friends or a date or even sex without ever feeling need.

  Yes, she thought, life was easier before she lost her job, came home and met Gray. But had she been happy? Had she had one single moment in the past ten years that compared to what she’d felt in his arms? Or even what she’d felt talking to Faith, regaining at least the beginning of the closeness she’d never had with anyone else?

  Until Gray. I could have it with Gray, too. Only…more.

  Unless he didn’t want her anymore. Or had never wanted more than a casual relationship—an affair.

  No, she knew better than that.

  I love him.

  Staring straight ahead, scarcely aware of other travelers filling the seats around her, Charlotte reminded herself how scary it had been to know she’d offered him everything.

  Heart, body and soul.

  That was fanciful, but it’s what it felt like. As if she’d have no secrets from him, was handing him the power to hurt her with barely a glance or a word.

  But…would he? She remembered the expression on his face that night after the cherry bomb exploded through the window, when he walked past Faith and Ben and the EMTs as if they weren’t even there, as if she was the only person he saw. And when he pushed aside the curtain in the emergency room in search of her and his eyes found hers. Her heart squeezed as she thought about that night: the tenderness of his touch and his kiss, the slow, deep sound of his voice and always the way he looked at her.

  Why had that scared her so much? Right this minute, she wanted more than she had wanted anything in her life to throw herself in his arms and just hold on.

  Charlotte thought back to the smothering, completely irrational panic that had so damaged her bond with Faith, and understood it no more than she ever had. When she searched inside herself now, she couldn’t find it anymore. Was there any chance it hadn’t all been her fault, that Faith was right? Charlotte didn’t have any memories from when they were really young. Like most people, she could call up no more than snapshots until nearly kindergarten age. Faith might have been especially insecure, especially clingy. Maybe she hadn’t felt whole on her own, so in some way she was trying to consume Charlotte so they could be one.

  Maybe.

  Maybe not.

  Charlotte guessed they’d never know, not completely, and it didn’t seem to matter so much anymore. The miracle was, they could be friends now, sisters, without those old fears holding sway.

  I know who I am, Charlotte thought, and I’m okay with myself. She was embarrassed to have something so simple feel like a revelation.

  I can love someone, deeply, completely, without losing myself.

  The certainty swelled in her, calming her. The emotion seeping through her felt strangely like one of Gray’s slow, thoughtful looks, or the glide of his thumb over her lips, or the lazy, confident sound of his voice when he said things like, “Who got us out of the corn maze?” Or, “I’m staying. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

  Or even just her name.

  He made her feel safe, wrapped in certainty, even when she was teetering on the edge of panic.

  Charlotte knew suddenly that she didn’t want to take a job in California. Not if there was any chance at all that Gray really wanted her, or even if there was still hope that he might want more than that one night.

  And…no matter what happened with Gray, she’d be there for Faith. Rory wasn’t gone for good, Charlotte didn’t believe that for a second. He was still a threat.

  She’d have to go back to San Francisco and put her condo on the market, Charlotte realized, arrange for a moving company to pack her stuff and transport it. But today, all she wanted was to go home, to West Fork.

  The decision made, she took out her cell phone and was surprised to see that it wasn’t on. When she tried to turn it on, she discovered the battery was dead. She’d been too frazzled to remember to charge it. Way to go, she thought. Yesterday’s interview had gone really well. She liked the company and the people she’d met, found the work she would be doing intriguing, and—maybe best of all—she’d be able to do a good deal of it from home. What if they’d tried calling to offer her the job?

  What if Gray had called?

  There wasn’t anything she could do about it now. She’d call the personnel office at SysPro this afternoon when she got home and tell them she had been offered another posi
tion.

  There were surely pay phones here at the airport. She could call Gray now, instead of doing something impulsive and stupid like wasting the money she’d spent on the airline ticket. But she wanted to see him, not just hear his voice.

  Impulsive wasn’t always stupid, was it?

  Charlotte went up to the desk and told the Virgin America representative that something had come up and she wouldn’t need her seat after all. She handed him the boarding pass and walked away, pulling her small carry-on suitcase and carrying her laptop slung over her shoulder. The trek back felt shorter; her steps became quicker and quicker, until she was nearly running.

  GRAY STOOD OUTSIDE THE SECURITY LINE, scanning it one last time without hope. At this time of day, it was short. He’d already stopped at the Virgin America counter, where he had been told that Charlotte Russell had checked in.

  Of course she had. It was now—he glanced at his watch—10:36 a.m. Her flight would be boarding in half an hour, taking off in an hour.

  He had tried calling several times on the drive down, and again when he reached the airport. Her damn phone was off again. Or still off. She sure as hell didn’t want to talk to him.

  His heart was still pounding, as it had been since he peeled out of the farm. Adrenaline surged through him, signaled by some primitive need that had forced him to take life-saving action.

  Finally turning away, making himself start back toward the front of the terminal and the escalator that would return him to the parking level, Gray thought bleakly, I was trying to save my life.

  Not in a simplistic outrun-a-mastodon kind of way, of course, but the truth was that he couldn’t imagine life without Charlotte. How that could be, when he’d known her such a short time and she had been fighting against falling in love that whole time, Gray didn’t know. But it was true.

  He wouldn’t give up, just because she’d gotten away today. Damn it, sooner or later she’d have to answer her telephone. Or he’d clear his schedule for a few days and fly down to San Francisco after her.

  Telling himself that didn’t seem to help. Despair had him in its grip. Give Charlotte a few more days, and she’d harden her resolve. By the time he saw her again, her brittle, pugnacious persona would have regained control. He didn’t know if he could overcome her resistance in just a few days, and that’s all he’d have if she wouldn’t come back to West Fork.

  His gaze had been restlessly searching faces as he walked, even though there was no reason whatsoever to think he’d spot her now, outside security with her flight time so close. Out of the corner of his eye he saw people streaming out of the secured area of the airport, most pulling suitcases and talking on cellphones or holding hands with a reunited husband or child. People who’d just gotten off an airplane.

  In their midst was a slender woman with pale blond hair cut boyishly short. She was walking fast, weaving in and out, rushing somewhere.

  Gray stopped so suddenly, someone ran into him. He staggered but didn’t even look to see who it was, didn’t hear anything said to him. He was staring at the woman—Charlotte—hurrying toward him in an airy aqua-colored skirt he recognized. The white shirt over a camisole—he knew them, too, and the flip-flops. She’d repainted her toenails in one of those purple shades. Plum, he thought it might be called.

  She was close, about to pass right in front of him. Galvanized into sudden motion, Gray all but lunged forward and grabbed her arm. “Charlotte.”

  She wheeled in alarm that became something else when she saw him. “Gray?” she whispered.

  “I thought you were gone.” His voice was hoarse. “Your phone has been off.”

  “I…” She blinked. “Yes. It’s dead and I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Charlotte,” he said, low and husky, just before he pulled her into his arms. With a cry, she let go of her suitcase and flung her arms around his neck.

  They stood there in the middle of the concourse with people parting to go around them, locked together as if nothing would ever separate them again. His face was pressed against the top of her head, to the short, soft hair that was somewhere between the color of a dandelion bloom and the puffy seedhead that would follow. She felt so fragile to him, and yet so vital. Her scent was tart, citrusy, very much Charlotte, who would never want to smell sweet.

  He realized her laptop was wedged between them, and that someone had knocked over her suitcase, which now sprawled flat on the floor in the midst of traffic. Reluctantly, Gray loosened his hold on her and asked, “Where were you going, Charlotte?”

  She tilted her head back to look up at him. Color ran over her cheekbones, and her voice was definitely shy. “Home.” She hesitated, took a deep breath, and finished, “To find you.”

  “Faith said you have an interview tomorrow.”

  “I’m going to call to tell them I’m not interested in the job.”

  Gray had to close his eyes for a moment, his relief so huge he didn’t know if he could contain it. When he opened them again, he said roughly, “I love you, Charlotte Russell.”

  “Gray!” The laptop dropped to the floor with a clunk and she plastered herself against him again, all but burrowing as if she couldn’t get as close as she wanted to. “Oh, Gray,” she mumbled against his chest. “I was so afraid…”

  He felt the tension of her knuckles on his back. From the tug at his shoulders, he could tell she had grabbed his shirt and was clutching it for all she was worth. He would have liked to get closer, too. He wished desperately that they were alone, preferably at his house, where he could have carried her downstairs again to his bed.

  “Afraid?” he questioned.

  “That you despised me.”

  On a clutch of guilt and pain, he pressed his cheek against her head again. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. So sorry. I never quit loving you, but I was angry. It wasn’t fair.” He sighed. “Maybe we should go to the car, instead of talking about this in the middle of the airport.”

  “In the middle of…?” She raised her head and looked around, her eyes widening. “Oh! My suitcase…”

  Gray held her arms when she would have twisted away to rescue it. “Wait. First, will you say it? Do you love me? Can you love me?”

  She went very still in his grip, slowly raising her gaze to meet his. “I already do. So much,” she said in a small, scratchy voice, “it scared me to death.”

  “I don’t want you to ever be scared of me.”

  She gave him a tremulous smile. “I’m…not as scared as I was. I got brave enough to not get on that airplane.”

  “So you did.” Mouth curving, he kissed her. Only briefly, giving himself barely a moment to feel her lips quiver under his. Then he said, “You don’t have a car, do you?”

  Charlotte shook her head.

  “Then let’s go.”

  He picked up her suitcase while she rescued her laptop, and they walked to the escalator and across the skybridge to the parking garage. The whole way he kept one hand on her, right at the small of her back where he could feel every subtle shift and extension of her muscles.

  When they got to his car, he tossed her suitcase and laptop into the trunk, then held the door for her as she got in. He went around and got in on his side, put the key in the ignition, then groaned and turned and reached for her.

  “Kiss me,” he whispered. “Please kiss me.”

  She made a funny, desperate little sound and dove into his arms, as far as the console and gearshift allowed. When his mouth met hers, it wasn’t at all gentle. Her lips parted and they kissed deeply. He cradled her face in his hands while she ran hers over him as if to be sure he was truly there, that she remembered his contours.

  He pulled back far enough to say, “I want you,” even as he pressed open-mouth kisses to her throat, the curve where neck met shoulder, the hollow above her collarbone. “I don’t know if I can wait two hours.”

  “Conveniently enough,” Charlotte told him, “there are lots of hotels only a couple of minutes away.”

  Gray
pulled back. “You’re a genius.” He gave a quick grin as he started the car. “I wonder if any of them have mirrors on the ceiling.”

  “Ugh.”

  “Yeah, not actually all that appealing, is it?”

  “No.”

  All he wanted was to look into her eyes as he made love to her. To see them cloud with passion, to catch every flicker of emotion.

  They didn’t talk until he turned into the first decent-looking hotel he saw. “Wait here,” he told her, and went in to register. Then he moved the car and ushered Charlotte inside.

  The minute they were inside the hotel room, he spun around and trapped her between himself and the door. She flung her arms around his neck and rose on tiptoe to meet his kiss.

  He took her mouth voraciously, with everything in him. He couldn’t seem to find any patience in himself, any self-control. His hands lifted her skirt and grasped her buttocks beneath her skimpy panties. He ground his hips against her and kept kissing her as his head spun.

  When he lifted his mouth from hers, all he could say was “Charlotte” in a thick voice that he’d never heard before. He lifted her and carried her into the dim room, laying her atop the king-size bed and bracing himself with a knee between her thighs.

  He got her shirts off, but not the bra. Finding and releasing the back catch seemed beyond the capabilities of his suddenly clumsy fingers. He suckled her breasts anyway, wetting the satin cups. He shoved her skirt up and yanked her panties down. Thank God he had carried a condom in his pocket since the first time he met her, or he didn’t think he’d have been able to stop. Gray didn’t bother shedding his own clothes, only yanking down his zipper and pushing down his trousers far enough to free himself.

  He cursed, getting the condom on with shaking hands. And then he pushed her thighs apart and thrust inside her. He felt her arms and legs wrap around him and saw her blue eyes go blind with a kind of shock as she arched and cried out.

  She reached a climax with shocking speed. Gray plunged deep only a few more times before his body bucked and he groaned. He collapsed heavily onto her instead of rolling considerately to the side. It was several minutes before he could summon the resolve to make himself move. Even then, he held her tight.