“Charlotte works a lot,” he said, taking a bite out of his eggs benedict. Declan wasn’t sure why he was hesitant to introduce Charlotte to his mother. Something stopped him each time.
“Well, have her over for dinner sometime soon,” Anna said, sipping her coffee.
“Sure,” Declan said. “I’ll do that.”
********
One day, three weeks after Charlotte moved in, Declan found her sitting on the porch with the same look on her face she’d had the day on the bridge.
He’d sauntered over to see if she wanted to go out to dinner with him that night. It was the closest he’d come to actually asking her out on a date. But instead he’d found her sitting on an Adirondack chair, her legs tucked under her, clearly having been crying.
“Charlotte?” he knelt down next to her. “What’s wrong?”
Charlotte shook her head, “Nothing. It’s too much to get into.”
“Well, it’s clearly not ‘nothing’,” he said, touching her arm. She jerked her head up at his touch. It had surprised her, but he mistook it as her wanting him to pull away, so he did.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’m here, though. We’re friends. You can tell me. Is there something I can do?”
The concern on his face about broke her heart. He was so kind to her, not like she’d suspected he’d be at all, and his compassion made her burst into tears.
“I’m just,” she sobbed. “Today is my mom’s birthday.”
Declan had to fight the urge not to wrap his arms around her. Instead he let her cry and was quiet. He listened.
“My mom would have been fifty-years-old today,” she continued. “And I miss her so much. It’s been almost six years since she died and I still can’t stop wishing she was here. I think about her every day and lately it’s been so hard.” She looked at Declan. “Sorry, this is too much to put on you.”
Declan pulled up the empty chair next to her and sat in it, his knees touching hers and he bent his tall body forward to look at her eye to eye.
“Tell me about her,” he said. “Tell me what she was like. What are the things you miss the most?”
Charlotte looked at him for a long moment. They’d never been this close together and part of her wanted to kiss him so badly for even asking about her mom.
“I miss her voice,” Charlotte said. “She liked to sing show tunes while she cleaned. Especially from A Chorus Line. It was her favorite musical. She’d be running the vacuum upstairs and I would still hear her. Dad pretended it drove him crazy, but he would always smile.” She laughed. “She was a terrible singer. I mean, really awful. But what she lacked in talent she made up for in enthusiasm.”
Charlotte sighed, “I sometimes wonder if I’ll forget what she sounded like. I used to have a voicemail from her saved on my phone, but my dad switched carriers and it somehow got deleted. It really crushed me. Having that silly little message kept her alive for me in a way.”
Declan couldn’t help it; he took her hand.
“What happened?” he asked. “Unless you don’t want to…”
Charlotte shook her head, “No, it’s okay. I can tell you. You’re being so kind. She was killed in a car accident. Out on Folly Beach. I was thirteen.”
Declan squeezed her hand, “I’m so sorry. Were you on vacation?”
Charlotte nodded, “Yep. We always came here in the summer. She went to the store, asked me to come with her. If I had agreed to go, she’d probably have missed that stoplight. The person who hit her would have hit someone else. Or just sped on through. My mom would still be alive.” Charlotte’s shoulders shook with her sobbing. “All because I was an asshole teenager who didn’t feel like going with my mom to the store.”
Declan pulled her to him, “No. It’s not your fault. Did they find the person who hit her?”
“No,” Charlotte said. “That’s the worst part. It’s what haunts me to this day. No one ever had to pay for my mom dying. They didn’t even stop to see if she was okay. How could someone do that?”
Declan didn’t know what to say.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “It’s one of the worst things I’ve ever heard.”
Charlotte wiped her tears and stared into Declan’s eyes.
“It’s pretty terrible,” Charlotte said. “Her birthday is one of the hardest times for me. Especially this one. I sometimes wonder if I did the right thing moving here.”
They were inches from one another now. He could have leaned in and kissed her; kissed away her pain, her grief. He would have, if she’d only given him the slightest hint it’s what she wanted.
But she didn’t. She pulled away instead.
“Thank you for listening to me,” she mumbled. “I’m sorry to get all emotional on you. I’m sure you have big plans tonight.”
Declan smiled, “Nope. No plans. Unless you feel like joining me for dinner. Maybe a birthday celebration. For your mom.”
Charlotte looked up at him, surprised. “Really?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Fifty is a big one. What was her favorite kind of food?”