by Nikki Ash
“I just sent you a picture. It’s from a few days ago. We were at the lake, feeding the ducks.”
“Okay, let me look. I’m in Montreal, so the service is a bit spotty.” I pull my phone away from my ear and open my text messages. It takes a minute, but Charlotte’s name appears. I had added her name to my contact list as soon as Krew gave it to me, even though I was unsure whether I would call her not. Now that I know why Krew was so insistent that I do, it all makes sense.
I open her text and wait for the image to load before clicking to enlarge. Her face, with a toothy grin, fills the screen of my phone. Her hair color is the same shade mine was when I was younger. A dirty blond is what my foster mothers would say. Once I shaved it, my roots started to darken. Honestly, I can’t remember the last time I let my hair grow enough to remember what it looked like. It’s Arla’s eyes though that catch my attention. Big and bright blue, full of life. She looks like a happy child, a loved child. Tears fall from my eyes, and I wipe them away. I’m not a crier. I’m not even emotional most of the time because I’ve learned not to care, but there’s something about this little girl staring back at me that makes my knees weak.
“Charlotte, I’m so sorry,” I say when I bring the phone back to my ear.
“For what?” she asks.
“For leaving you alone to deal with this, to raise a child by yourself.”
“You didn’t know, Jack. I tried to find a way to get word to you, but it was hard not knowing where you were.”
“That’s my fault. I could’ve written or called.” I take a big shuddering breath to try and compose myself. “Fuck, I really messed things up for you.”
“You didn’t, and we’re fine. I promise. I’m not telling you about her because I need or want anything from you. I’m telling you because you have a right to know. Krew was right to tell you to call me.”
“Does she know about me?” I don’t even know why I ask because I’m certain the answer is no. Who would tell a child about their missing father?
“She does. She knows your name and knows that we cared deeply for each other when you were here, and she knows that you joined the Army to protect our country and her.”
“Jesus,” I say as tears stream down my face. I’ve done nothing in my life to deserve this sort of care or love. Hell, I’m not sure how to return it.
“Can I meet her? I know I don’t have the right to ask.”
Charlotte lets out what I’d considered a chuckle or gasp for air. I can’t be sure. “Of course, you can. I won’t keep her from you unless it’s what you want.”
She’s giving me an out, an escape. I’ve never had anything in my life that was mine. Even now, the Army owns me. They tell me where to go, what to do, and how to dress. Arla gives me something to live for, someone to love that could love me back, even though I have no idea how to make things work.
“I’d like to know her, Charlotte, as much as my job allows. As I said, I live in Italy. It’s not like she can fly there for a weekend visit.”
“We can figure all of this out later. Are you passing back through this area? I can arrange a meeting.”
I get the sense that she doesn’t plan to be there, and the truth is I’d like to see her as well. “What about you? Can I see you?”
Charlotte doesn’t say anything. My phone vibrates with an incoming call—a video chat from Charlotte. I accept and wait for the screen to show me the girl I once knew. She smiles, and just like that, I’m transported back to the day when she invited me over to study. I was so foolish in thinking she just wanted to hook up, thanks to that kid in our class.
“Hey,” I say to the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. Her hair is darker than I remember, and small pieces frame her face. She looks tan, likely from the summer she spent on the lake.
“Hey,” she says back. There are more awkward pauses, much like the rest of our conversation, but this time, we’re staring at each other, and it feels good.
“It’s really good to see you,” I tell her.
“You too. I wish this were yesterday or even tomorrow when I’m at the restaurant.”
“You know, I almost didn’t stop, but my friend was hungry. I saw the sign for Holyoak and took the exit. I’m still in shock that Krew remembered me.”
“I’m thankful he did,” she says with a grin.
“Are you? This doesn’t make your life complicated?” I’ve heard enough stories from my team about a weekend fling turning into a lifetime commitment. However, Charlotte and I had more than a weekend thing going on.
Charlotte nods. “This is a good thing for you and Arla. She’s asleep now. Otherwise, I’d let you talk to her.”
“Is it okay that I’m okay with her being asleep? I don’t know what I’d say.”
She chuckles. “Fair enough. I guess she has the upper hand since she knows your name.”
“Yeah, I guess she does. Do you think she’ll like me?”
Charlotte gets up from sitting and walks through the room. She keeps her phone focused on her face, making it hard for me to see where she’s going. A light comes on, and she sits down again. “I want to show you something. We are in my office, and this is a picture she drew in school a few years back.” She turns the camera around and zooms in. The drawing is of three people, two adults standing on either side of the child, holding hands. Above it, it reads “my family,” which brings another wave of tears. I wipe them away before Charlotte can see them.
“She’s going to love you, Jack. It may take her a bit to warm up, but I wouldn’t worry about her feelings or her being scared.”
“I’m worried she will have expectations that I can’t meet.”
“She’s nine. She expects the moon and then some,” Charlotte says, laughing. “Do you know when you can stop by, or we can meet you, someplace?”
“I have a wedding to go to tomorrow, and my buddy wants to tour Montreal, although I’m very tempted to get back into the car and drive back to Holyoak because I don’t want to wait to meet our daughter,” I pause and let the word “daughter” soak in. “Wow, that’s powerful.”
“I can imagine you’re probably going through the same things I went through when I found out I was pregnant.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” I tell her. “I would’ve been.”
“I know you would’ve, Jack. That’s why she knows about you . . . about us. It’s never crossed my mind you would’ve abandoned her.”
“Or you,” I point out.
Charlotte smiles but says nothing.
“I’ll be back in Holyoak in three days. I won’t have much time because we have to be back on base, but at least a day and a half. I’ll book a room.”
“I’ll take care of the room with my aunt, or you can stay with Arla and me. There’s a couch in my office, and we have a guest bedroom.”
“I don’t want to impose.”
She laughs again and shakes her head. “Your daughter is going to insist on it. Call me when you’re on your way.”
“I will.”
“Good night, Jack. I’m really happy you’re back in town.”
The video ends before I can say anything. I don’t know how long I stay out in the hall, an hour or longer, once we’ve hung up. I keep looking at the picture of Arla, trying to memorize her features. She looks like her mother, but maybe there’s a hint of me in there as well. It’s hard to say.
That night, I stare at the ceiling and wonder how different my life would be if I hadn’t boarded the bus that day.
Chapter Six
Charlotte
Arla stands in front of her mirror with her hands holding the hem of her dress. She insisted on getting a new one for this occasion even though I told her the ones she has hanging in her closet would do. Her new one is pink, much like the others, but with a small petticoat underneath, making the dress poof. I think she likes it because it fans out when she spins, but what do I know?
“You’re very pretty,” I tell her as I come into the ro
om. Gently, I brush my hand down her hair, trying to tame the curls she asked for. She moves away and sends me a glare through the mirror.
“You’re going to mess my hair up.”
“I’m sorry.” I sit on the edge of her bed and continue to watch her. The morning after I spoke with Jack, I told Arla he was in town and asked if she wanted to meet him. In hindsight, I should’ve waited until after she was home from school because her teacher called two hours later, saying Arla was having trouble sitting still in class. I’ve since kept her home until after the meeting because she’s far too excited, and I don’t want her to get into trouble.
Arla turns and looks at me. “What if Jack doesn’t like me?”
“He’s going to love you.” I try to assure her with a smile.
“But what if he doesn’t?”
“Then it’s his loss, and we go about our day like any other day.”
She faces the mirror again. “Do I look like him?”
“I think so.”
“But Gram says I look like you.”
“It’s hard because Gram sees us together every day. If Gram saw Jack, she would probably say you look like him as well.”
“I suppose.” She studies herself, tilting her head from right to left. “I’m going to give him the pictures I drew.”
“I think he would like that. It gives him something to take back to his home.”
As soon as I say the word, her mood turns sour. There’s nothing like dangling a shiny new toy in front of them, only to take it back and say they can’t play with it for a long time. Jack lives an entire world away in her mind. I haven’t even discussed what a time zone means. That’s a whole other conversation for a different day and a battle I expect to lose with her. She’s nine, going on fifteen, and isn’t afraid to let me know it at times.
“Can you do me a favor, sweetie?”
Arla nods and looks in my direction.
“Please remember that Jack just found out about you, and he might be nervous. You know about social cues and when to back off, so watch for his. Okay?”
She nods. “What if I scare him away?”
Even though she’ll be mad because I might wrinkle her dress, I pull her toward me. I rub my nose against hers in a back-and-forth motion. “There is absolutely nothing scary about you, my sweet baby girl. You are kind, sweet, and perfect. Jack knows your name, what you look like, and he knows how much you care about him even though you’ve never met him. Just don’t forget, he has to leave. He has a very important job.”
“But he can come back, right?”
“He can visit you anytime he wants,” I tell her.
The doorbell rings, and her eyes go wide as her mouth drops open. Before I can form a response, she bolts from my arms and her room, yelling, “I’ve got it.” I’m hot on her trail even though my heart is pounding out of my chest. I feel sick to my stomach like I did the first time I invited Jack over when my parents were gone for the weekend.
Arla swings the door open and stands there with Jack on the other side. He looks better in person, rugged and handsome. He crouches down, focusing on Arla. She towers over him, but they’re staring at each other. I do everything I can to fight back the tears, but it’s impossible. I’ve pictured this moment a thousand times, but never like this. Never in the doorway of my home.
“Hi, I’m Jack,” he says, breaking the silence between them. He holds his hand out to shake hers. Arla’s head tilts downward, making me wonder what she’s thinking. She answers my thoughts when she launches herself into his arms. Jack picks her up and wraps his arms around her waist. We make eye contact and hold it until he covers his face with his hand. Behind Jack, there’s a shadow, and his friend comes into view. The last thing I want to do is interrupt Arla and Jack, so I motion for his friend to come into my house.
“I’m Charlotte,” I tell him as we shake hands. “You can call me Lottie.”
“Mitchell Lochlan. My friends call me Mitch,” he says. “I’ve heard so much about you on this trip. I feel like I’ve known you most of my life.”
“Oh boy, I can’t imagine what Jack had to say. Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”
Mitch follows me down the hall. I show him into my office. I’ve opted to give Jack the guest room because it’s closer to Arla’s room, and I have a feeling he might want to be nearby. “You’re away from all the noise in the morning,” I say. “Arla can be a bit loud when she wakes up. She likes to sing and dance before school.”
“Sounds like my sister. She hasn’t met a song she doesn’t like.”
I laugh. “That’s Arla. She knows none of the lyrics and still belts out the words like she wrote the song.”
After Mitch sets his stuff down, I show him the bathroom and into the kitchen, where I have set out some sandwiches my grandma made, as well as lemonade and a plate of freshly baked cookies.
“You own the restaurant with all the beer, right?”
I nod. “I do.” There is no need to explain that my grandparents are private partners or that someday I’ll inherit the business entirely if I want it.
“The beer bar is amazing. Best thing I’ve seen in years.”
“Really? I figured in Italy they must have something similar.”
“Nah,” he says with the shake of his head. “Wine everywhere. Craft beer is starting to become popular, but it’ll never be as popular as wine.”
“Well, I’ll have to visit because I do love a nice wine.”
“Jack would like that.” Mitch’s eyes go wide, and he closes his mouth. He likely just betrayed his friend, and I’m going to pretend he never said anything.
I suggest Mitch dig in and hand him a plate. Over the years, I’ve learned that people are unlikely to start eating until the host does, so I make myself a plate and set two more out—one for Jack and the other for Arla. As tempted as I am to check on them, I don’t. They need their time together to navigate these thick waters created by absence and distance.
Mitch and I sit down across from each other. I ask him where he’s from and about his life. He talks a mile a minute, telling me everything about his family and how his girlfriend from high school is still around, but he can’t decide if he loves her the way he should or if he loves the idea of her. “Either way,” he says, “with me being stationed in Italy, our relationship is sort of a moo point.”
“Moot,” I say automatically. I pause and shake my head. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have corrected you.”
Mitch laughs. “I say moo because Joey from FRIENDS is my favorite character ever. He makes me laugh when I need it the most.”
“Moo, it is.”
Mitch’s statement makes me wonder if he and Jack have been to war. It’s not a question I should ask, even though it’s on the tip of my tongue. Honestly, aside from Jack and Mitch, I’ve never spent much time with anyone from the service. Shockingly, none of my siblings or cousins have ever talked about enlisting. Although my cousins, Rhys and Oscar, could use the discipline. My uncle Dean lets those boys run wild.
We are halfway through our meal when Jack and Arla finally join us. They’re holding hands, and I try not to get choked up, but my efforts fail me.
“Hey,” he says when we make eye contact.
“Hey.”
“Can I talk to you for a minute? Somewhere private?”
“Of course. Arla, sweetie, this is Mitch. Jack’s friend. Be nice,” I warn her even though she’ll be a real peach to him.
“Sup,” he says to her as I push my chair away from the table. I follow Jack but tap him on the shoulder to come with me down the hall. We step into my bedroom, probably not the best idea, but it’s the most private, and Arla knows to knock and wait before she’s allowed to enter.
I sit on one end of the bed and pat the other for Jack, but he’s too focused on the photos I have around my room to pay attention. “I have duplicates of most of those if you want them.”
He nods and says nothing.
I get up from my bed and
go into the closet. I pull down the box marked “Jack” and take it to him. “Everything in here is yours.”
His eyes are red-rimmed and full of unanswered questions. Jack takes the box from me and opens it carefully. “Why?”
“Why what, Jack?”
“Why does this box have my name on it?”
“Because I have held out hope we’d meet again someday. Or that when Arla turned eighteen, she could put her DNA into one of those search databases and find a match.” I shrug.
He thumbs through the box and pulls out a photo. “She looks a lot like you.”
“And you.”
“Let’s hope for her sake she takes after . . .” Jack pauses and smirks. “Never mind. She’ll have to tell all the boys that come calling her—” he stops and looks at me.
“Do you want to be Jack to her? Dad? Father? It’s your choice.”
He guffaws. “She asked me the same thing and told me pointedly she intends to call me dad, so I should accept it.”
I start to laugh. “I think I forgot to mention she’s very opinionated, strong-willed, and quick on her feet. There isn’t much that gets by her.”
“I think she’s amazing,” he says as he sets the box down. He finally sits, the mattress sagging a bit. “I don’t know how to proceed. Do you need money?” Jack asks. “I don’t have much, but I can pay child support. I’ll change my life insurance over to her name right away. I’ll have the base call you so you can give them all her information if that’s okay.”
“That’s fine, Jack. I don’t need child support or anything.” I reach for his hand and hold it in mine. “My door is always open for whatever you want or need when it comes to Arla. I’m not keeping her from you, hiding her, or demanding anything. She knows you live in Italy but doesn’t quite understand that part other than you not being here every day. I fully expect her to text you non-stop, video chat, and she’s already started a new book of drawings she wants to send. If you don’t want any of this from her, just say so. I can deal with it. But, if you start a relationship with her, I ask that you keep it. I don’t want to hear in six months, or a year this isn’t working out for you.”