Page 11 of Redemption

“You got that right,” he chuckled. Charlie Cartwright was here, right in front of me, chuckling. I must be hallucinating.

I shook my head. “I’m so confused about why you’re here? Aren’t you going to scream or yell or hit me?”

Charlie cocked his head, his blue eyes piercing my soul. “Why would I do any of that?”

“You know why.”

He waved a hand dismissively, allpsh.

“Fifteen minutes left!” the guard shouted the warning. I flicked my gaze back to Charlie.

“Come on, spill.” He sat back, folded his arms over his chest all casual, like he was having dinner with an old friend and not sat in a prison talking to his wife’s killer.

I glanced down at my hands, my split knuckles from fighting back in that shower. And then I forced myself to look him in the eye. If he could find it in himself to come down here, every month for a year and get turned away, trying to see me, I could at least give him this.

I shrugged. “I was drunk, I drove, I didn’t see her—”

“Say her name,” Charlie interrupted. Not aggressively, but gently once again.

“Her name?”

“Yes, she’s not Voldemort, you can say her name. I won’t have my Sherry forgotten.”

I almost laughed at how surreal this whole meeting was. Almost. “Sherry.”

Charlie nodded, satisfied. “That’s it, keep going.”

“I didn’t see Sherry, I swear. I was going too fast and then it was too late. I hit her, she…she died.”

Tears filled Charlie’s eyes and it tore me in two. I looked away, unable to face him.

“She did love to run at nighttime, said it was freeing. I told her it was dangerous but she always said, ‘Nothing bad’s gonna happen to me in this town’.” Charlie shook his head sadly.

I swallowed past the boulder lodged in my throat. “I will never be able to apologize enough. I’m not fighting the conviction, I’m guilty, I know what I did and I will serve my sentence without complaint. But I don’t think I can ever make up for taking her awayfrom you,” I swallowed again as the tears came back. “Or your girls.”

“Well, you can start by talking to me. Why were you driving drunk?”

I shrugged. “It was my birthday.”

Charlie frowned. “Your parents gave you that much alcohol because it was your birthday?”

“They didn’t give me any. I took it from them because, well, they’re…a lot to handle.”

Charlie’s sharp eyes pierced me again. “I saw them at your sentencing.”

I shook my head. “They had me super young, frequently told me they wish they hadn’t, and I think this kind of gave them a reason to abandon me.”

“I’m sorry, son.”

I shook my head violently. “Do not apologize to me, ever.”

Charlie sucked in a breath. “So you were underage drinking to cope with shitty parents? Then what?”

“We got in a fight and I wanted to get out. I called my friend, Scotty but he didn’t have a car and he convinced me...wait no, it was all my own choice. I chose to get into that truck and drive.”

Charlie’s jaw was getting tighter the closer I got to the climax of the story. “Then what?”

“I got in my truck and drove. Scotty called me and I tried to answer my phone but dropped it. I bent down to get it and when I looked back up, she, Sherry was there. I didn’t even have time to blink. I must have swerved from the middle of the road to the bank and she was there.”

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