Charlie stood up. He wanted to be by her side, to hold her hand, to tell her how brave and strong she was, but she motioned for him to sit. Please don’t tell me goodbye.
Velveteen carefully folded the cream linen paper into a square and removed her sunglasses. Her waterproof mascara was doing its job even though the tears did not stop. “Do you know why I quit design school, Charlie?”
Did he really know? She had said life had so much more to offer her. She was good, and he had never quite understood it. He had even tried to convince her to keep at it, subscribed her to five different interior design magazines, and bought her a new laptop for online designs before Gideon was born.
“I didn’t love it anymore. My professors told me they could see the potential, my eye for color, the depth of my contrast. And the more they said it, the more I wanted it. And I designed more of what they wanted.” She paused and gathered her breath. “I think that’s how my life has been for a long time. It’s been about the they and not about the me.” She locked eyes with Charlie, no longer trying to dry her tears. “But it didn’t make me happy. So, one day I designed what I wanted – a nursery.” She laughed. “My professor hated it. He said the color scheme was all wrong. He said the concept was outdated and void of life. But then you walked by – because you said you had never been in the university gallery before, and you were curious what might be inside. You’ve always been curious. You said it was the most beautiful room you had ever seen. You said you liked the painting, the one I put over the bassinet. We both know what you were up to, Charlie Price.” She covered her mouth and giggled. The tears had stopped and a smile formed on her ruby lips. “Then you fell through my portrait and put a hole in my face.”
The Blackwells laughed. Charlie remembered, completely swept up in her vulnerability. He had passed her every Tuesday en route to his Finance and Investment Banking course. And every Tuesday, he would imagine where she was going. So, one day, he turned and followed her into the gallery.
Realizing where he was, Charlie suddenly developed an interest in interior design. He made his way over to her, slowly, pretending to carefully scrutinize each of the model rooms until he was close enough to her he could smell the faint hint of sweet citrus that wafted past him every Tuesday morning and see a remnant of green paint on her chin.
“It’s the most beautiful room I’ve ever seen.”
“Excuse me,” she said. “Do I know you?”
“No… Did you do this? Pick it all out, I mean.”
“I did.” She eyed him suspiciously, more than aware of his flattery.
“The details…” He had stepped into the model room as if to inspect the bedding on the bassinet. “And the painting… Did you do this too?”
She nodded.
“It’s incredible.” He placed his hand on the bed, leaning in to get a better look at the piece of art. “Vee? Is that you?” he asked, pointing to the signature in the corner.
“It’s short, for Velveteen.”
“And the woman in the painting?”
She didn’t have time to answer. The throw rug in front of the bassinet slid, pulling his back leg with it.
Velveteen turned the folded stationery over and over in her hands. “Did you really think my artwork was good, Charlie?”
“Yes… It was the most beautiful part of the whole room.” He meant it. He had been in such awe that the gorgeous university student he had dreamed about for months could produce something so lifelike that he leaned in that day to touch it, to make sure it was real. He’d had the same sensation the night she gave birth to their son.
“I should paint more. I enjoyed it once. I think I will, Charlie. I’m going to paint more. I shouldn’t have given up on it just because somebody said what made me happy wasn’t good. Design school didn’t make me happy, but painting did. Do you understand, Charlie? It was kind of like that when we lived in the city. It was pretend. A game we played to make everyone happy and a lot of times it was fun. It was so much fun. But it didn’t really make us happy, because when we lost the game, we didn’t want to play it anymore. But since we’ve been here there have been glimpses of happiness, true happiness. So let’s find what makes us both happy. We’ll live in a camper van if we have to. If I can make the Toft house home, I can make anywhere home. Please don’t give up, Charlie.”
“That’s not a eulogy!” Danger stood up with his hands on his hips. Clover pulled him back down to his seat. “Mom, I don’t think she knows what to do! She’s saying it wrong. This is all sappy and stuff. It’s not how we do it.”
Clover put her arm around her son. “It’s okay this time.”
Suddenly Charlie Price saw what had been staring him in the face all this time: his happiness, standing there, tear-streaked and beautiful. And next to him, the gift of their love, his son, who never doubted him, who had not only accepted their new lifestyle but thrived in it, making friends and embracing all Coraloo had to offer. Charlie had fallen from the pinnacle of success down a hill into a depression and then had tried to hide under the guise of a quest for simplicity. But what he needed, that one thing missing from his life, was contentment with what he already had, a freedom – a release from the bondage of self-doubt, failure, and the pressure to provide – that only self-forgiveness could provide.
He embraced his wife, never wanting to let her go. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. How could you –”
“I love you too, Charlie Price.”
He kissed her on the mouth as all the Blackwell children broke out in a series of overexaggerated ewwws and gagging noises. The rest of the Blackwells stood and applauded.
“I think he figured it out, Mom,” Danger whispered loud enough for Charlie to hear. “Even if her eulogy was all wrong.”
Charlie leaned into his wife. “What do I do now?”
She rested her hand on his cheek. “Whatever you want.”
“I don’t know… I want you and Gideon and the baby… We’re having a baby!” He picked her up off her feet and swung her around. “A baby! I’ll need to find work. We’ll start over, go back to the city if that’s what it takes.” He meant it. He’d do it for her; he’d do it for them. “We’ll start small, I’ll work my way to the top, and whatever happens, happens. We’ll make it work.”
“Do you really want to live in the city, Charlie?”
“Well, no. Do you?”
“I like it here… in Coraloo.”
“You do?”
She smiled.
“Okay then; we’ll stay. I can drive back and forth – it’s not too far.”
“You can’t drive back and forth, Charlie.” She laughed. “It’s much too far.”
“Then maybe I’ll look at the purse factory. It’s what everyone in the valley does.”
“But it’s not what you do. We’ll figure it out,” she patted her belly, “the four of us.”
He stopped and grabbed her hands. Even though he had nothing, she still wanted him. She said they’d figure it out… together. All this time he had believed a lie. In truth, she didn’t care where he worked, how much he made or what kind of house they lived in – ramshackle, rented or a high-paid renovation. No matter what happened, he understood. It was a small glimpse of the faith Stephen had talked about, the knowing that something far greater than himself was at work. And that something was to do with love: he saw it in Velveteen’s capacity to love him despite the fact his actions hurt her; in how she loved him even though she knew he was flawed; and in how she had forgiven him. Perhaps he too could forgive himself.
Charlie suddenly knew what he wanted. They would be okay. “I’m happy here too, but I’m not happy doing this!” He motioned to the market. “I need something more, not more money, or a bigger house, I want more for me… for you, for Gideon and for… our daughter, wait, is it a girl? I’m okay with a girl… or a boy.”
“It’s too early to tell.” Velveteen moved his hand to the small bump on her belly. He hadn’t even noticed… actually he had notic
ed, but he’d convinced himself it was the brownie batter.
“Aunt Sorcha told me how to tell!” Danger stood up on his seat and pulled his shirt up. “You take a string and tie it on your finger, then you swing it like this.” He swung his hips around in a circle and pretended to draw a circle with his finger.
“Not now, Danger.” Clover tried to pull him down, but Aunt Sorcha was climbing up on the casket to lie down.
“No, no! You do it like this!” The old woman was about to pull up her dress and demonstrate the proper technique to reveal the gender of the unborn baby, but Stephen jumped over the bench in front of him and threw himself in front of the soon to be half-naked woman.
“You really want this?” Charlie asked.
“I really do. It’s what Melba would do.” Velveteen winked at her husband.
Charlie kissed her on the forehead. “I am sorry I forgot myself, Vee.”
“I think we both did. So, by all means, Charlie Price, let’s remember.”
CHAPTER 29
“Please be careful. Call me as soon as you get there?” Velveteen straightened his tie and pulled her wool coat around her emerging belly. She shivered in the frigid January air.
“You should go back in. I can’t have my favorite girls getting sick.”
Velveteen plopped her hands on her hips.
“Too soon?”
“Three weeks and then we’ll find out. Dr Walker says any sooner and there is a fifty-fifty chance he’ll get the sex wrong. Can you imagine, Charlie? Clover throws me a fabulous shower in the market, all the ladies attend –”
“Sylvia Toft, too?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Charlie Price! There will be a cake, maybe even macarons. We are not having a third Rooning – not at my own baby shower! As I was saying, if Dr Walker gets it wrong and all the ladies lavish me with blue sleepers and blue blankets and funny little cars that make honking noises and books about pooing in the potty, and then we have a girl? What then?”
“Girls don’t poo in the potty?” He laughed. She hit him playfully on the shoulder. “Okay, okay, okay. I’ll be patient. I should be going.”
“Are you nervous? Are you sure this is what you want? Maybe there is something else you could do from home?”
He pulled her to him and kissed her. “Yes, very. No, I’m not sure. And if there was a better option, I would take it.”
“What about that one thing, oh you know… What was his name? He came by the house. It was something about restaurants.” In the past month her memory lapses had been a cause of frustration for both of them. Dr Walker said it wasn’t uncommon for pregnant woman to feel a little off balance from time to time.
Charlie laughed at the memory of their annoying visitor. “It wasn’t restaurants. It was rest homes… for dogs.”
“That’s it! He said he would put you at the top.”
“Yes, if I found three people to put under me, and they each found three people, and they found three people –”
“Right. I remember now. Call me as soon as you know something.”
“I’m sure they won’t tell me right away. It will be a couple of days and possibly another interview or two before they make their final decision.”
She looked into the face of her husband. “I am so proud of you, Charlie Price.”
“I know.” He kissed her forehead and climbed into their car.
“Oh Charlie, wait!” She ran inside the Toft house and returned with a small box. “I made these for you – in case you need a snack.”
Charlie took the box and started the car. He glanced out the window as he backed out of the gravel driveway. She had sworn she would not leave until he was out of sight. With one hand she attempted to hold the periwinkle coat closed around her round tummy; with the other she blew him kisses. On her feet she wore shiny black rain boots. He had never seen her wear them before and thought they were front door décor like the coat rack or umbrella stand. Most of the time she preferred to be barefoot, claiming she hadn’t found her shoes yet.
He blew a kiss back. A nervous excitement overcame him. He had to catch his breath. Since his funeral he experienced this often: a heightened awareness that the moment he was living might not have been had the constable not found him the night of the Christmas Party.
They had come a long way since The Rooning. On the outside, Velveteen was the same woman who had passed out at the sight of the dahlia-patterned wall covering, but on the inside, she was someone else. She had developed a confidence Charlie had not seen in her before, even finding the courage to ask the Blackwells if they would let her sell her paintings in the market. And the cooking and the baking – Charlie was gaining weight right alongside her. She smiled more, laughed more, and one day, as she was putting the finishing touches on a homemade lemon tart, proclaimed, “From this point, I will have no further correspondence with the acquaintances.” He hadn’t asked her why, but he already had a good idea.
As for Charlie, he still didn’t know what he wanted to be when he grew up, but he knew what he didn’t want – no more hiding from his past and pretending to be something he was not. He could be happy and content with life the way it was. Their house was big enough, though they would have to convert the attic space into Gideon’s room so the baby could take residence among the cowboys. He loved the simplicity they had found, the life they had forged together, but he still needed to earn a living – and picking wasn’t the answer. He knew what he needed; his funeral had shown him that. Charlie hoped he would find the contentment he sought at the end of the long drive.
Charlie watched the miles of limestone walls and horse farms blur past as he neared the city. He had to give Velveteen credit for this trip. The night Howard Lawson had told him about the opening at Heritage Financial, he hadn’t heard a word, but lucky for him, Alice Lawson had mentioned it to Velveteen. At the time, Velveteen said she laughed it off, thinking Charlie would never dare return to the place of his demise.
But the day after Charlie’s funeral she hesitantly brought it up. He didn’t blame her; there would be another mouth to feed soon enough. And at this point, he was out of options for employment.
“I have an idea, Charlie. It’s not ideal, but hear me out before you say ‘no’. At the party Alice Lawson –” at the party and Alice Lawson; she wasn’t off to a good start – “mentioned Heritage has not been able to fill your position permanently. It’s been almost a year, Charlie. Well, you know how the Lawsons are friends with the Rogers… Mary Beth told Alice that Carl should have taken over from you. In fact, he was counting on it – which makes me dislike the Rogers even more – but Ralph Walsh hired someone from the outside. Seems the lady they hired was all well and good until Carl went digging online and discovered the woman had three husbands… three, Charlie! She was living three different lives – it was such a scandal they let her go. Now, I know I can’t believe a word Mary Beth says, but apparently she said Carl tried for the position again, and they still refused. Do you want to know why, Charlie?”
Charlie had not really wanted to know why. He couldn’t care less about the interworking of Heritage Financial, but at the time, Velveteen was on the edge of her seat, clearly excited to tell him.
“Okay, why?”
“This is what Alice told me. She said Ralph Walsh said… they’re friends with the Walshes too. Did I tell you that already? Anyway, she said Ralph Walsh could not find anyone as good as you to fill the position, and until he did, he didn’t plan to hire anybody! Charlie, do you know what this means?”
“Heritage Financial is one card short of a full deck?”
“A full deck? Are you trying to say they are crazy? Anyway, it means you should apply for the job! If you want… only if you want. You could suggest you work remotely. Tell them you want to work from home. People do that all the time, Charlie.”
“They fired me. Why would they take me back?”
“Well, Alice also said –”
He cut her off. “I’ll call and see if
there is an opening. I doubt they will give me my old job back… and let me work almost three hours away, but I guess it wouldn’t hurt.” What other option did he have? They needed the money. Even though they both knew it was a long shot, they had spent the night dreaming about a life where Charlie would work from home and they would stay in Coraloo.
In a matter of minutes, Charlie Price would take his first step into the city since he had lost his job. Knowing Robert Walsh took both the week before and after Christmas off to spend time with his family, Charlie had waited to call. The conversation had been casual at first, catching up on the past year – Walsh’s grandchildren and Velveteen’s pregnancy. Walsh had heard the Prices had moved to Coraloo and wanted to know all about it, so Charlie told him about everything from the Toft house to his visits to the constable’s office. Walsh had cackled so hard Charlie was sure he had forgotten he was even on the phone.
“And you want to come back?”
“Yes, sir. I made a mistake. I’m not proud of it, and I don’t have any excuse or detailed explanation for it. It was careless and sir –”
“How about you come in on Wednesday? I can’t make any promises. You know the board will have the final say.”
“Thank you, sir. It means a lot.”
“Oh and Price, you’ve got to tell me about this Mangoo Blackwell fellow. Sounds like a man after my own heart.”
Charlie almost corrected Walsh’s pronunciation of the Blackwell legend, but immediately caught himself. Correcting the man who had agreed to interview him might not play out in his favor.
Velveteen had made a batch of macarons, though Charlie had been quick to remind her there was nothing to celebrate. Even if he was offered the job, and he could work from home, is this what they wanted? Did he really want to go back to hours spent writing reports, worrying about deadlines, and making small talk with prospective clients? But he would be foolish to let the opportunity pass him by without at least giving it his best shot.
The Death of Mungo Blackwell Page 24