Page 91 of Free to Live
“Not by a long shot,” Phil interjects. Jason hushes his husband.
“They didn’t know when Caleb and Cass first started dating,” Charlie adds. “Keene was kind of…”
“Rude. The word is rude, Charlie,” Cassidy chimes in. Keene glares at his sister. Now that I’m aware, I see the resemblance in the shape of their eyes, their noses, and their smiles.
“It’s their coloring that throws most people off, Joe,” Holly explains once she’s regained her breath. “Unlike this one who is basically a perfect clone of you and Mary—” She swings Grace up into her arms. “—Keene favors their mother whereas Cass has their father’s coloring.”
I want to ask how all of the atrocities happened to Cassidy when Keene is so obviously protective of those he cares about, but before I can, Charlie mutters, “It’s a long story. One night over a glass of scotch we’ll share it with you if Holly doesn’t do it first.”
“Here.” Holly hands me Grace. “I have a banana pudding to make. Try not to get yourself eaten alive before you get a chance to taste it.”
Charlie looks at Holly thoughtfully as she makes her way into the kitchen area with Corinna, who’s picking lettuce out of her short hair. “I’ve known that girl since she was eighteen years old and I’ve never seen her as content as I do tonight.”
I suck in my breath. Here it comes. Judgment.
Charlie lifts a massive paw of a hand and runs it over Grace’s curls, which are in perfect pigtails since Holly did them earlier. He smiles. “Your daughter is beautiful.”
“Thank you. For a long time, she’s been the light of my life.” Kissing Grace on the top of her head, I put her down so she can wander freely.
“For a long time, the six of them were the best part of mine.” As I straighten, I look at Charlie with new eyes. “I met them when they first came to the investigator I worked for to hide their identities. Here they were, six kids who told me a story that was so heinous, it was almost unbelievable. And then as I began to research it to bury their lives, what I found was worse than what they told me. From then on, their well-being became my mission.” With an odd smile, he adds, “Even lost my last wife over it when she tried to hurt them. Like I said then”—I’m gaping at him—“I can’t find more kids to love, but I can always find another wife if I want one.”
Scrubbing my hand down my face, I don’t know whether to laugh or be scared at what I’m hearing.
Charlie takes the decision out of my hands simply by breaking my heart.
“Phil, well, he’s going to bluster his way through this dinner making an ass out of himself and likely making Holly full of piss and vinegar. Let me reassure you that you wouldn’t be here if he didn’t accept you—if the family didn’t. But Phil? He’s going to give it to you worse than any of the others before you simply because you’re the last one. The last man he’ll get to give hell to because you’re the last man he has to let go of one of his sisters to.” Charlie shakes his head. I smile tenderly at Holly as she laughs at something Corrina says.
“As for me? She’s been my baby girl for longer than she was theirs.” His voice cracks. My head snaps around. “Don’t know why God does what he sometimes does things—gives gifts like those kids to people who don’t deserve them. Takes the good lives before the evil ones.” His eyes drift toward the kitchen where peals of laughter can be heard. “She always been holding back her light, that part of her too scared to give in and let go to love because of knowin’ how dark and twisted her path took her. She could have died a lonely girl if she kept on it. It’s moments like that that make me believe there really is a God, even if we don’t understand him, because my Holly’s over there laughing with her sisters as she plots out revenge against her brother for making her man’s life a living hell. Instead of a broken grave, she’s got a whole heart.” Charlie faces me. “Your own path hasn’t been easy.”
I close my eyes. “No, it hasn’t.” Flashes of the day Mary died intermix with the good. Finally, I open my eyes and my gaze lands on Holly as she snatches up Grace as my daughter runs past the kitchen island. Holding Grace aloft, she plants rapid kisses to her exposed belly, making Grace laugh.
“Memories, pain, they’re offset by the passage of time. They’re never diluted, but they’re able to be looked at with less agony.” I blink at the sage words. “I like to think of life as scales. And love is the thing that balances out all the crap we have to deal with.”
I quietly absorb his words. “You’re extremely wise.”
“That’s what happens when life hands you atrocities and you decide to shove justice back in its face. Now.” He looks at me very seriously. “The most important question I have to ask you is this.”
Warily, I take a step back. “What’s that?”
“Are you a Yankees fan?”
I let a small smile cross my face. “Mets. Lifelong.”
“And to think, I had just about given my blessing.”
I laugh. “Charlie, you’ll never get me to switch. My father tried for my entire childhood. I even admit to crying during the game when David Wright retired.”
“And you were just about perfect for my girl.”
Horror crosses my face. “She’s a Yankees fan?”
“I took her to her first game at the stadium myself.”
I groan. “This is going to get very bad, isn’t it?”
Charlie slaps me on the shoulder guiding me toward the kitchen. “Batter up, Joe.”
Finding Holly amid her sisters, I proclaim, “The Yankees? You like the Yankees?”
