Page 25 of One Night at Christmas

“Yes.”

The meaning of the words came through loud and clear. For whatever reason, Charon left her husband. Or he threw her out. No, he wouldn’t be such a fool to let her go. For a few silent moments, Bryson wrestled with asking for more information. He resisted because his own situation hadn’t changed. He was married even if it was a sham of a union. None of it had worked out on a personal level, which was why he had buried himself in work. Lately, even work couldn’t satisfy him.

None of his challenges had anything to do with Charon. For all he knew, she might have left her husband because she fell for another man. She might have a new lover. He let that thought rip his guts apart. Four years, and he still loved her, but it wasn’t like there were chances to erase her memory.

He should forget about Charon and let her move on to whatever drove her to leave.

“If you want to know more, sir, I have more information.”

“Drop it. Let her be.” He disconnected the call and focused on the pages in front of him. At least he attempted to concentrate. Tormenting questions floated through his head. Was she happy now that she left her husband? Did she think of him as he thought of her? Did she have regrets?

The phone rang again, and he snatched it from the desk to stab the connect button.

“I told you—”

“Sir, she’s homeless.”

Bryson’s mouth went dry. “What did you say?”

“Even a guy like me, who’s in this game for my own reasons, has a conscience this time of year. This tidbit is free. She’s homeless, and a woman like her shouldn’t be staying in a seedy motel like the one where I found her. Not with a child.”

Bryson pushed the papers away and tugged his briefcase toward him to pack up for the day. “Give me the address.”

Chapter Ten

“No, baby, put your slippers back on,” Charon told her daughter. “I don’t trust the look of this carpet. It’s sketchy.”

Naomi glanced down at the carpet. “Somebody drew on it? I didn’t.”

Charon laughed. “No, it wasn’t sketched. Sketchy. Never mind. It’s paper thin, and who knows what people have been doing in here. If you want to take your slippers off, you have to stay on the bed, okay? And when you get off, put them right back on.”

“Okay.” Naomi stuffed her feet in the cheap elf slippers Charon had just bought her when they drove down to the Wal-Mart to buy groceries.

Charon had purchased a container of cooked hot chicken as a luxury item just for that night. They had been eating what they could pop in the microwave for the last few days, and she hated feeding her daughter that crappy processed food all the time. With a few precious dollars, they were having baked chicken, macaroni and cheese, and broccoli. Not that the meal was much healthier, but it felt better because it wasn’t microwaved.

After she prepared a plate for each of them, she poured Naomi a glass of juice and herself a glass of water. “Baby, go wash your hands so you can eat.”

“Okay,” she sing-songed.

Charon kept an ear alert to the sounds her daughter made in the bathroom to be sure she wasn’t doing more than she was supposed to. She scanned the small motel room and sighed. This was their temporary home, and she was starting to feel closed in. She and Naomi walked around the complex for exercise and so Naomi could play but not too much. There were some characters staying at the motel who she wanted nothing to do with.

Her cell phone buzzed, and she checked it. A spark of hope rose inside that Morris had somehow come into some money and was offering it to her. Or at the least she wished he would say take the house and he would find somewhere else to stay. Unfortunately, even if he did, she wouldn’t have been able to afford it.

Morris’ text offered nothing useful. “Are you ready to stop being stupid and come home?”

She blinked at the screen. He couldn’t be serious. That was his way of wooing her back? Not that it was going to happen. When she said she was done, it had come after months of her feelings for him dying out. She had nothing left to give him.

Rather than answer, she deleted the text and tossed her phone in her bag. Naomi came out of the bathroom, and they sat down to eat. Charon took her baby’s hand, and they bowed their heads, eyes closed.

“You want to say the prayer, Naomi?”

“Okay.” With self-importance, Naomi knelt in her chair. “God, thank you for the food…and for a house…and for more food…and for Daddy…and for—”

“That’s enough. Thanks, sweetie.”

“…and for a puppy…amen.”

Charon smirked. She tucked into the mac and cheese when a knock sounded on the door.

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