All I Want (A Farmers' Market Story)

by Helm, Nicole

  Pity. The words hit him hard. Did it out of...pity. The word echoed in his head. Pity. Pity. We did this out of pity.

  “Pity,” he said aloud, not meaning to.

  “You were moping around like a zombie, and your mom was about to lose it and get you a job at the post office, and who knew this was the answer all along.” She finally raised her eyes from the papers, smiling and laughing so damn jovially.

  But moping...and his mother... Hell, this meant not just Cara had pitied him, but Wes, Mia and Dell. They’d offered him these “consulting jobs” out of pity. Every good feeling whooshed out of him until he simply felt hollow.

  He didn’t belong. He hadn’t finally stripped away all those hard layers inside so his family could see him, accept him. He’d been pitied.

  He wanted to laugh. At least, he thought that was the weird feeling in his chest. A laugh. Sure. Because why the hell should he be hurt by that? It didn’t matter. Why would it matter? He wasn’t going to be hurt by pity from these people. How foolish they thought he needed to be pitied.

  This wasn’t his passion or what he’d been meant to do, that much was shiningly, irrevocably clear. Any talk otherwise had been stupid words uttered by a besotted woman and an idiotic man.

  “Charlie, please don’t—”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said, holding up a hand to Mia, who he knew was going to try to gloss over Cara’s words and placate him. It doesn’t matter. And that was the truth of it. This work Meg thought was his passion wasn’t really anything. Certainly not important or stable. It wasn’t people finally seeing him for who he was or what he could offer. It was simply...pity.

  “Look, I shoved my foot in my mouth,” Cara said. “I didn’t mean pity pity. We knew you’d do a great—”

  Cara—of all people—had pitied him. Presumably Mia and Wes and his own brother did too. Dell, who’d done nothing but screw up and then luck into this...life.

  Charlie had been insane to think this was happiness. That this past month was anything but shirking responsibilities and ignoring the realities of life. Dell and Mia, Cara and Wes, they could all play at this little small business farmers’ market life, but it was playing. It was not a real world.

  At least not one for him. When he played, people pitied him. When he played, he forgot everything that was important. Everything that had got him to this point where he could help people who pitied him.

  It was like stepping into a familiar old piece of clothing. The cold that took over, the talking like a clipped businessman chastising his team. Finding no humor or nonchalance in the situation.

  “I’d actually wanted to tell you both that I can only offer my services for the remainder of the month. Then I really do have to get serious about finding a real position.”

  “But tomorrow is the thirty-first,” Mia replied, wide-eyed, and maybe there was even some hurt lurking in her expression.

  He refused to see it. “Yes, well, like you both do, I have a child on the way, and I can’t keep putting off the necessity of finding actual work.” Work that might be able to flip his world upside down when he lost it, but not work that could tear his heart out.

  He’d been lost when Lordon laid him off, but he hadn’t been...hurt. His pride had been injured, he’d had a little identity crisis, but...well, he’d been stupid to think he could change his identity.

  The man he wanted to be, the man he’d been the past few months, it was nothing more than a dream. A pretense. No one saw him as that, because it wasn’t actually real. He was always going to be practical, upstanding Charlie Wainwright, and trying to be anything else had been an exercise in wasting time.

  “You have been doing actual work for us, Charlie,” Mia insisted.

  “I have, yes, but I can’t keep collecting a pittance from you all and provide for my child.” He realized suddenly he’d never even asked Meg what her insurance situation was. How she planned to retire. If she had investments or savings. All the things sane Charlie would have thought about, obsessed over; instead he’d convinced himself he was in love and happy and that all those things he’d known were important would work themselves out.

  That was for other people. People who could ignore reality. People like Dell, who could follow a dream. Charlie had never been that way. Too practical. Too smart.

  Yes, he felt so damn smart right now.

  He’d never even discussed living arrangements with Meg. No further talk of marriage, of what the baby’s last name would be. He’d been sucked into some vortex of ignorance and he’d been so very stupid to think he ever belonged there.

  “Would you like to talk about the Collier details? I’ll always be available if you have a question, of course, but my job hunt and the subsequent job will really have to be a priority.”

  “Charlie, don’t be upset,” Cara said, worrying her hands together.

  He lifted an eyebrow, an expression he’d honed in his teenage years when Dell berated him for not caring about the family land, perfected in his time as a boss at Lordon. Were you under the impression that I care or think we’re equals? “Do I appear to be upset?”

  Cara glanced at Mia, who only shrugged.

  “It’s funny, actually. I thought I was doing you all a favor, and you thought you were doing me one. Well, now it’s time to stop playacting and move on with our lives.”

  “Charlie.” Now there really was no missing the hurt in Mia’s expression, but just because he saw it didn’t mean it was his problem. He’d built a life that couldn’t hurt him for a reason. He couldn’t stand this feeling, so he’d ice it out.

  And he’d make sure from here on out he remembered exactly what he got for being a stupid dreamer.

  “If we’re not going to discuss business, I do have other things to do today, ladies.”

  Cara sighed. “Let’s go to the kitchen.” She walked into the hallway, and Charlie waited for Mia to follow, but she stood by the couch, her back to him, surreptitiously typing something into her phone.

  Charlie walked over to her, put his hand directly over the screen. It took every ounce of control to keep the anger deep, deep down.

  “Whatever you think you’re doing, do not text my brother assigning some hidden upset or emotion to this. I am simply choosing to do what’s best for all of us.”

  Mia raised her chin, fixed him with her best challenging glare. “Well, I don’t agree with your best.”

  “You would be wrong, and if you think Dell is going to run to your aid and apologize profusely, you’re only wasting everyone’s time. I have a real life to lead. So does he. So do you.”

  “What would ever make you think the life you’ve been living for the past month isn’t real?” Her voice had gone soft, and maybe if pity wasn’t laced all through it, it would have had more effect. “It was your life, wasn’t it? It was you living it,” she continued, steel returning to her voice.

  “I was doing you all a favor,” he said, making sure his voice was flat and final. “That’s all.” Because if that life could hurt him like this, he didn’t want it to be real.

  She shook her head, disgust turning her mouth into a scowl. “I hope you lie better to Meg.”

  “Mind your own damn business, Mia.”

  “Excuse me,” Wes said from the doorway, his voice dark and authoritative. “It’s time for you to leave, Charlie.”

  He wanted to laugh. He wanted to throw a punch. He wanted to do a lot of stupid things with all these stupid, ridiculous feelings rioting through him.

  Instead he smiled his best businessman smile. “I think you might be right.” And he walked right out of the Stone cabin and didn’t give a flying leap where he ended up.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  MEG WORRIED. IT WAS probably silly, but it was there nonetheless.

  He should have been home an
hour ago. He should have at the very least texted her about food. But there was nothing. No responses to her texts, and he didn’t answer when she called.

  She paced the kitchen, trying to decide between calling him incessantly and being that kind of woman, and going out and seeking solace with her goats.

  She glanced at the clock. It’d be time to milk them in about twenty minutes, and she was doing better at stomaching it in the evenings. She could do it on her own, even if she got a little nauseated, but she’d liked sharing the chore with Charlie.

  Where on earth was he?

  She heard the car before she saw it, which was odd. Charlie’s sleek sports car didn’t make much noise. She peered out the window, and when the vehicle came into view, it wasn’t his black sedan, but a big black SUV.

  Her stomach pitched. She could only think of bad news accompanying a vehicle like that. And Charlie wasn’t answering...

  Oh God, what if something had happened to him? What would she do? What would Seedling do? What—

  But those thoughts came to a screeching halt because no uniformed bad news bearers stepped out of the car.

  It was her parents.

  She thought she might pass out. Spots danced at the edge of her vision because she was hallucinating. She had to be hallucinating. That was her parents. Her parents getting out of the SUV, walking across grass and gravel to her...

  “No. No, no, no.” Meg ran through the house to the front door. It was bad enough they were here. The worst, absolutely the worst, but they would not set foot in her home. They would not spew their poison in her sanctuary.

  She flung open the front door and ran out onto the porch, almost tripping. Which was enough to force herself to take a breath. To try to find some calm in the panic. She didn’t need to take a stumble and hurt the baby because her parents were here.

  Here.

  She muttered a prayer she’d heard her grandmother say a thousand times over her grandfather’s failing body. The words didn’t penetrate the fog in her head. They didn’t even make sense; she probably messed the whole thing up, but it centered her, it anchored her.

  Against the storm that was coming ever closer.

  “Margaret,” Mother said, primly clutching her purse to her stomach. “I have no idea what to say about this place.”

  “I’d venture to guess the condescension in your tone says it all, really,” Meg returned before she could stop herself. She had to find a line here. A line between cowering and panicking—because she had no idea what they’d do with that on her turf—and between being the abrasive teenager trying to piss them off.

  She had to find some essence of Charlie’s calm and detached dismissal when he was irritated. She took a breath and stood on the stoop. A silly thing to have this height leverage over them, but it made her feel powerful. Anything that gave her that right now was fine.

  “Does it always smell this bad?” Dad asked, holding a handkerchief to his nose. He was dressed in his normal business attire. A well-tailored suit and shiny black shoes.

  “Eau de goat,” Meg said, trying to be cool and calm, and failing so very miserably.

  “Well,” Mom said, waving her hand in the air. “That’s sort of beside the point, I guess.” She turned her head to Dad, speaking out of the corner of her mouth as though she was trying to keep it between her and him. Of course, she was loud enough for Meg to hear every word perfectly. “Though I can’t imagine raising a baby in this squalor and stench is in any way fitting.”

  “Why are you here?” Screw being calm or cool, she needed them gone before they filled her head with more doubts, more insecurities. Where was Charlie? Why wasn’t he here, when she needed him?

  “Well, you having a baby changes quite a few things.”

  Meg placed both hands over her stomach. It was such a futile gesture, but it always made her feel stronger. Like she could protect this growing thing inside her.

  “It doesn’t change anything for you,” Meg said, finally finding the cool, dismissive quality to her voice she’d been seeking.

  Of course, the terror on her face and the protective gesture probably gave her away, but it was a step.

  “This child will be our grandchild. Whether or not it has the Carmichael name legally, being a Carmichael comes with certain responsibilities.” Dad grimaced as he lowered the handkerchief. “Is Charlie here? I think he’d be far more amenable to this discussion.”

  “Charlie is none of your business.”

  “Oh, honestly, Meg. You are too old to be this difficult. If you care at all about this child, you have to think about the opportunities we can offer it.”

  “I can support my child on my own. And more, I will love my child, and that is far more important than the opportunities our last name can offer.”

  “I told you she wouldn’t listen,” Mom said acidly.

  “That baby is a Carmichael,” Dad insisted, clearly just confused she might think of that as a curse rather than a blessing.

  “This baby is my baby.”

  “I told you we needed to talk to Wainwright,” Dad muttered, as if she weren’t even there. As if she didn’t matter.

  It was funny, but it didn’t cut quite as deep as it used to. It was almost as if telling Charlie they didn’t love her, verbalizing that thing she’d always known, telling him the truth, had taken some of their power away from them.

  How could they hurt her? She already knew they didn’t see her. This was not new. So it very surprisingly didn’t cut her in half. It shockingly didn’t turn her into a blubbering mess.

  There were people who could love her through all her mistakes, all her failures. People who could see the woman she’d made herself into. People who wouldn’t look at her and see a mistake. Not just Charlie, his family, Dan and Elsie. She had found a family. She had found love, and knowing Mom and Dad couldn’t take it away gave her all the strength she needed.

  She stood taller. “I’d like you to leave now. Stay away from Charlie. He has nothing to do with you.”

  “He’s the father of my grandchild,” Mom said, her ownership sending a cold shiver down Meg’s spine.

  She swallowed down the bile that rose in her throat. This child was their nothing. She wanted to believe that. She wanted... But she couldn’t get that wrapped up in what she wanted. She had to think about what was best for Seedling.

  It wasn’t these people. It wasn’t. Their money, their influence, oh, it could move mountains, but not if it was crushing you under those mountains while it did.

  “What is it you really want? Let’s cut through all the posturing and ‘my grandchild’ nonsense and be clear and honest.” She barely bit back the if you know how on the tip of her tongue. “Why did you come here?”

  “Obviously,” Mom said, gesturing to the cottage and the goat barn, “we made a lot of mistakes with you, but we don’t want the same fate for our grandchild.”

  Meg closed her eyes. It was going to be a war. Inevitably. There was no way around it. They would view Seedling as part theirs. Always. Forever. A chance to make up for their embarrassment of a daughter.

  It was hard to fight back the black wave of futility that threatened. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life fighting her parents. She wanted to spend her life away from them, cut off from them. She thought she’d managed to do that, and now...

  But no matter how many dark thoughts threatened, no matter how her stomach clenched, it didn’t matter. Because she would work tirelessly for her entire life if it meant making sure Seedling was safe from this.

  “I’m sorry you feel that way, but I will raise this child as I see fit.”

  “Obviously Charlie will have a say in things.”

  She gritted her teeth at Dad’s insistence that Charlie was somehow different than her, better than her. “He doesn’t think a
ny more of you than I do.”

  Dad raised an eyebrow. “You think so?”

  “I know so.” Charlie would never betray her that way.

  They all turned as the sound of another car entered the conversation, Charlie’s black sedan coming to park next to her parents’ vehicle.

  Thank God. She wanted to run to him, but that would give her parents access to her front door, and as paranoid as it might be, she felt she had to protect it. Protect the cottage and any chance of them entering.

  “Well, this is a surprise,” Charlie said, his tone bland as he walked across the yard. “Is everything all right?”

  He looked at her as he asked it, but she noted something very weird. He didn’t come to stand next to her. He didn’t make a move to block the door or her. He merely...stood there. All three of them on the ground, her still on the stoop.

  “They showed up. I’d like them to leave.”

  “Now, Meg, no use overreacting. Charlie is a man of sense. He’ll want to hear this.” Dad clapped Charlie on the back.

  Charlie didn’t slap the hand away. He didn’t even move. He merely looked at her dad’s hand on his shoulder with a quizzical frown. “I’ll want to hear what?”

  “What the Carmichael name can offer your child.”

  “Our child,” she said. “It can offer our child nothing. We don’t want your offers. If, at some point, you’re interested in this child as a human being, maybe we can discuss that. But this isn’t a business acquisition. I won’t let you treat it like one.”

  Charlie still didn’t look at her. He hadn’t brought food. He was hours late, and her father’s hand was resting on his shoulder.

  Something had happened.

  It chilled her to the bone to see him looking at her father with a certain kind of consideration.

  She’d spent so much of her life feeling alone, so much so she’d gotten used to it. She’d come to accept alone was the best version of her. Feeling alone around her parents was certainly no new thing. She’d always felt that.

  But feeling alone with Charlie standing next to her was so painful she could scarcely catch a breath.