Kathleen Creighton - One More Knight

Then a little while ago Colin came over. He’d heard about Richie and me already and wanted to know what was wrong. He told me he’s been worried about me for a long time because I haven’t been myself. We went for a long walk in the woods. It was a really nice day, sort of cold, but sort of warm, too, the way it is sometimes. And all the leaves are down, and the squirrels were running around all over the place, chasing each other up and down the trees and being real cute. So anyway, I finally told Colin. We both cried, and then we sat and talked for a long time, until it got too cold to stay out and almost dark besides. Neither one of us knows what to do. Colin says I have to tell the judge, though, that’s the first thing. I know I have to, but I don’t even want to think about it. I think maybe I should tell Aunt Dobie first. Maybe she’ll know what to do.

Thought for the Day: Isn’t it funny how one little tiny thing can change your whole life forever?

Even Charly knew it was no contest. How could it be? He was an ex-SEAL, for God’s sake!

She put up more than just a token struggle, though, fighting him partly out of panic and partly because she simply didn’t know-had never known-how to give in gracefully. She called Troy a son of a bitch, with every embellishment she could think of, as well as some she was shocked she even knew.

To her surprise he seemed to approve of that. He kept encouraging her, crooning things like, “Yeah…that’s right…go ahead, get it all out, now,” which only made her madder. She’d been going it alone for more than twenty years, her entire adult life. As far as she was concerned, crying was weakness, to be avoided if at all possible, and if not, then to be indulged in, like other weaknesses, in limited amounts and in strictest privacy. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried in someone’s arms.

Oh, yes, she could. And it was that memory-of two frightened teenagers walking in the woods on a lovely November day while the leaves and their worlds fell down around them-that was finally her undoing. Once again, as on that cold November day, she felt as though her world were coming apart, turning upside down. No longer was she Charly the independent and strong-minded career woman, Ms. Phelps the cynical and disciplined attorney. Instead she was back in those Alabama woods again, and she was Charlene Elizabeth, sixteen and in trouble, sobbing out her fear and desperation in her best friend’s arms.

“I…left him,” she sobbed. “He was…so little. He was…my baby.”

“I know,” Troy crooned. “I know…shh…it’s all right.”

“They let me hold him…just for a minute. He had such tiny little fingers…oh, God, he was so beautiful. And then he-he started to fuss, so I gave him my finger to suck on. And I got this feeling…all through me…like shivers, only warmer. Sharp, like pain, only…it wasn’t. It was wonderful…the most wonderful thing in the world. And then they-they took him away. They took him right out of my arms. And it hurt so much…oh, God …”

“I know,” Troy whispered, “shh…I know.” His arms tightened even more securely around her, his hand cradled the back of her head and his cheek rested on its top as he bowed his body, making of it a sanctuary, just for her. And she burrowed into his encompassing warmth like a wounded animal into its den.

“It hurt so much…I didn’t know what to do. I just wanted to get away from there. I had to go. I had to. I didn’t know…oh, God -I didn’t know…”

“Shh, it’s okay. What didn’t you know?”

“He…the judge…my father. He took my baby home. I don’t know-I think maybe he adopted him-but…he was there all the time. He was right there, and I didn’t know. I thought…all this time I thought he was gone . I thought my baby was lost to me forever, and all the time he was here . And I didn’t know…I didn’t know…”

“Of course you didn’t know. How could you?”

“They thought…they thought I’d come back,” Charly whispered brokenly. “But I didn’t. I never came back. Oh, God…” The pain overwhelmed her. This was worse than anything she’d ever known before, worse than Colin’s death, worse even than having her baby taken from her. Because this was her own doing… her own fault. Her own failure. And it could never be undone. How could she ever live with this?

Troy was stroking her hair. His hands were warm and steady, but his voice sounded strange, as if he had a bad cold. “What do you mean, you never came back? You’re here now, aren’t you?”

She shook her head rapidly, brushing her face against his front. “It’s too late…too late. He hates me.”

“Ah, now, it’s never too late.”

“Yes, it is.” She sat up, pulling reluctantly against the gentle restraint of his arms. God, she felt awful. Her sinuses ached, her head felt like a balloon that had been blown up too tight and her nose was running a stream.

She was looking fruitlessly around her for something to stern the tide when Troy matter-of-factly reached into the console between them and pulled out a small, travel-sized box of tissues.

“There y’go,” he muttered as he passed her a good-sized wad.

She took them without a word, blew and reached for more. Troy plucked a bunch and handed them over. She mopped her eyes, pressed them to her nose and muttered, “Boy Scout,” glaring at him over the balled-up tissues.

Troy gave a chuckle that was partly a sigh and eased himself back in his own seat, moving as if his body hurt. “Naw,” he said gruffly, “I guess you’d have to blame that on ol’ Bubba. You travel around with a pup, you better have a load a’ clean-ups handy.” As if on cue, they both craned around to look at the dog, who was sitting erect in the middle of the seat, gazing at them in complete and utter perplexity. They both said, at exactly the same moment, “Hey, ol’ Bubba,” then looked at each other and laughed softly. Together. A gentle and comradely silence washed over them like a healing balm.

Troy cleared his throat. “About your son-it’s not too late.”

Charly blew her nose, then shook her head and said in a stuffy but firm voice, “Yeah, it is. He hates me. And I don’t blame him.”

“He doesn’t hate you. Hell, he’s just young, is all. This was bound to be a shock to him, too, you know-you showin’ up out of the blue. He’s probably as upset and confused as you are. You need to give him some time. He’s gonna come around.”

“Oh, God.” Charly suddenly groaned and leaned her head back against the seat, closing her eyes. Just for a moment. Then she opened them again and stared avidly at the ceiling, wishing she could find the answers she needed written up there. If she only looked hard enough… “I wish…I knew what to say to him,” she whispered. “How will I ever get through to him? I don’t…know how.”

“Hell,” said Troy roughly, “just talk to him. Look, I know it won’t be easy. It’s not somethin’ that comes naturally to you, talking about your feelings-”

“You’re damn right,” Charly cried, as she felt the pain well up in her all over again. “It hurts too damn much!”

“-but you gotta do it anyway. You need to tell him what you just told me, about what happened, how you felt. Give him some time to think about it, and he’s gonna come around. Believe me.”

She swiveled her head toward him, compelled by something in his voice, something she’d been too caught up in her own pain to notice until that moment. The cracking, breaking sounds of a strong man’s emotion. As she stared at him, at his recruiting-poster face, his beautiful, compassionate eyes, a new and formless panic began to creep over her, jangled and raw as she already was. Who in the world is this man? she wondered. How was it she was sitting here telling him things she’d told no one else in twenty years? How could she feel so safe with him, when he was everything she’d been running away from her entire adult life? What was happening to her?