with Sylvia and Gray.” Something they had said to him must have gotten into his soul somehow, or he knew he never would have called. For the first time ever, he had put on the brakes, stopped and looked around, and slowly doubled back. He was on the final turn, and land was in sight again. “It was nice. How was yours?”
She sighed, and smiled at the sound of him. It was so wonderful to be speaking of mundane things. “The way it always is. About all the wrong things. No one in my family is ever thankful. They're just embarrassingly overconfident about how wonderful they are. It never even occurs to them that other people don't have what they do, and maybe even wouldn't want to. It's not about family for us. It's about how wonderful we are for being Van Horns. It makes me sick. Next year, I'm just going to have Thanksgiving at the center with the kids. I'd rather eat turkey sandwiches, or peanut butter and jelly if that's all we've got after your money runs out, than drink champagne and eat pheasant with my family. It just sticks in my throat. Besides, I hate pheasant. I always have.” He smiled at what she said. Sylvia and Gray were right. Maybe he'd been wrong. It was hard work for her being a Van Horn. She wanted to be like everyone else. Sometimes he felt that way too.
“I have a better idea,” Charlie said quietly.
“What's that?” she asked, holding her breath. She had no idea what he was about to say, she just loved the sound of his voice. And everything else about him. She had right from the first.
“Maybe next year you and I can have Thanksgiving with Sylvia and Gray. The turkey was pretty good.” He smiled at the memory of the cozy evening he had shared with them. It would have been better yet if she'd been there.
“I'd love that,” Carole said with tears in her eyes, and then decided to tackle her perfidy again. She had thought about nothing but that for the past four weeks. Her motives had been good, but she knew what she'd done had been wrong. If she was going to be with him, and love him, she had to tell him the truth, even if he didn't like what he heard, or it scared her to say it. She had to trust him enough to let him see who she was, whatever the risk or cost. “I'm sorry I lied to you,” she said sadly. “It was a stupid thing to do.”
“I know. I do stupid things sometimes too. We all do. I was afraid to tell you about the boat.” It had been a sin of omission rather than commission, but he had done it for the same reasons. Sometimes it was just hard being out there, visible to all. It gave people a tremendous target to focus on and take aim at. Sometimes even he felt like he had a bull's-eye painted on his back, and apparently she did too. It wasn't an easy way to live.
“I'd love to see your boat sometime,” she said cautiously. She didn't want to push, she was just grateful he had called. More grateful than he knew, as quiet tears of gratitude slid out of the corners of her eyes onto her pillow. She had even prayed about his coming back, and for once her prayers had been answered. The last time she had done that, they hadn't, when her marriage failed. In the end, God knew better.
“You will,” Charlie promised her. One day he wanted to spend time with her on the Blue Moon. He couldn't think of anything better. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
“Nothing. I thought I'd drop by the center. The office is closed, but the kids are there. They get antsy on long weekends, and holidays are hard for them.”
“They're hard for me too,” he said, honest with her. “I hate them. This is the time of year I hate most.” It brought back too many memories for him, of loved ones lost. Thanksgiving was hard. But Christmas was always worse. “How about lunch tomorrow?”
“I'd love it.” She beamed as she lay in bed.
“We can go by the center if you want. I won't wear my gold watch,” he teased.
“Maybe you should wear your lion suit. You've earned it. This was very brave,” she said, with a voice filled with admiration that he had called her.