Chapter 32

Chapter Thirty-Two

Bess

W e made it to the clinic with ten minutes to spare, and were met by a frustrated-looking receptionist.

“We’re closing!” she called us, scrambling to push a button somewhere to disable the doors.

“Good thing we made it,” Charlie countered with a smile, settling me down in a waiting room chair before he approached the counter. “You’ll get rid of us as soon as someone qualified takes a look at my girlfriend’s ankle.”

The word ‘girlfriend’ messed up my breathing pattern, and I coughed a little. I could barely see the receptionist behind the plastic safety barrier, but after a moment, I heard a rustle of paper and Charlie joined me with a clipboard full of insurance forms. “I’ll need your help with filling these out.”

I’d been bracing myself for this moment. I’d tried to divert us back to Rubie Ridge, hoping I could manufacture a miracle healing. Anything to avoid this. But Charlie had been adamant, so here we were.

I filled my lungs. “I don’t have health insurance.”

He stared at me for a long time. “But… we offer health insurance. It’s part of your contract.”

“Yes, for the full-timers. But most of us in production are part-timers.”

Was he not aware of this?

“Wait, what? You’re there all the time! You work full-time.”

I lifted a shoulder. “I get offered extra hours on a regular basis.”

“So, you essentially work full-time but don’t get the benefits?” The confusion on his face was starting to morph into anger.

“I appreciate the extra hours,” I added. “I need them.”

“But… even part-timers are offered insurance, right?”

He really didn’t know. Charlie, who wanted everyone to be happy and everything to be good and fine, had no clue what was going on right under his nose. I almost didn’t want to burst his bubble.

“The premiums are more than I can afford right now, so I opted out,” I explained carefully. “I can only afford to cover Celia.”

“How much?” he asked breathlessly.

“Five hundred per month,” I answered. “I know it’s not that bad. I’m just in a tight spot right now so I can’t do it.”

His eyes were dark. “Because of the debt?”

I nodded; my voice lost somewhere deep inside.

“Bess. I need you to be honest. Are the debt collectors threatening you?”

“No! Of course not.” I frequently received threatening letters informing me of the down payment schedule, but so far nobody had turned up at my door with a baseball bat or mentioned my kneecaps. Jack had been smart enough to not borrow from the worst of the sharks, even if the interest and late fees were ridiculously high. But as long as I kept on top of my payments, I’d make it through. If I worked extra hours on the weekend, I could even put a little aside and start paying for health insurance.

Charlie stared at me, his mouth a straight line. He may have doubted me, but didn’t push any further. Instead, he returned the clipboard to the counter and pulled out his credit card.

I buried my face in my hands, praying for my ankle. Please, no fractures. Nothing requiring a cast. I needed this to be a bone bruise, nothing more.

God heard me, but must have stopped listening half-way through.

An hour later, we sat on a park bench by the town square, my foot in a moon boot. There was no fracture, but possibly a torn ligament. Terms ‘physical therapy’ and ‘surgery’ had been thrown about and resolutely ignored by me. I was choosing to focus on the rest, elevation and wearing the boot—three things I could manage on a low budget. I’d already figured that with the boot on, I could put a bit of weight on my foot without screaming from pain. The crutches helped, too.

Now, a little high on painkillers, watching the yellow and orange leaves gently float down from the mature trees, I felt hopeful.

“I called Huber.” Charlie bit back a smile. “They should be here soon.”

I nodded, my gaze still on the leaves. Falling slowly, gently towards the ground. “It’s so beautiful.”

“Absolutely perfect,” he agreed, but he wasn’t looking at the leaves. He was looking at me.

Later, I blamed the painkillers for messing with my head. It was easier than blaming some deep, dark part of myself. Because I didn’t think about the morning-after pill. I briefly thought about it when the radiologist asked if there was any chance I could be pregnant. No, I said. Too quickly. But she didn’t notice, and it didn’t matter. Because I was going to get the pill. Then they offered me some codeine, and after that I didn’t think about it at all.

I didn’t think about it when I sat outside the freaking pharmacy, waiting for Charlie to pick up my prescriptions. I didn’t think about it when he carried me to the park bench, past a group of kids playing in a pile of fallen leaves.

I still wasn’t thinking about it when a blue Bronco claiming to be our taxi arrived or as I listened to the cute driver named Noah chat about his new life in Cozy Creek. In fact, he sounded so genuinely excited about small-town life that I got swept away into the fantasy of it all, imagining myself living here.

I made it all the way to our cabin, still floating in that lightheaded lull, feeling like everything would be fine. Like everything would always be fine. Until the rainbow-haired receptionist barged in, her voice shrieking from panic. “You’re back! You’re here.”

“Yes, we are,” Charlie confirmed, collapsing at the table. “Did we miss dinner?”

Rainbow-hair blinked, confused. “What? No. I don’t know. You’ve been away for twenty-four hours! Everyone’s freaking out. I had to inform your families.” She turned to me. “Your mother is on her way.”

“What? Right now?”

“She just called from town, asking for directions.” She turned to Charlie. “And your father?—”

“Told you he already knows and sent a helicopter?” She nodded, and Charlie gave her a wry smile. “So, you’re saying if we go right now, we might still get dinner?”

He got up and helped me to my feet. Or rather, one foot.

“Excuse me.” He pushed past the receptionist to get out the door. “We’re a bit hungry.”

My eyes caught her name tag again. Harley. She must have reprinted it. Harley followed us outside and all the way to the main building, asking endless questions of our night in the mountains. Charlie gave her terse answers with enough information to satisfy her curiosity until she finally left us alone with the Malaysian curry. Its heavenly scent had already infiltrated my brain, making me half-float towards the pile of plates, gently bouncing on a dispenser.

Finally, with my mouth full of delicious chicken, my body decided to send me a terrifying message. A tiny twinge deep in my abdomen.

The morning-after pill!

My fork-holding arm halted in midair and everything I’d already eaten started second-guessing its intended direction. I took a deep breath, determined to keep my food down. I’d have to figure this out.

“Charlie,” I whispered as my stomach gradually settled. “The pill.”

Charlie put down his fork and swallowed. “What pill?”

It was a reasonable question since he’d earlier picked up a bag of them for me.

“The pill. The one I need within twenty-four hours.”

His eyes widened in understanding. “Sorry, I totally forgot.”

My face felt hot. “Me too. This is a disaster.”

“Mommy!”

I turned towards the sound and saw my daughter. She ran across the floor with her arms outstretched. Behind her marched my mother, eyes wide with worry. “You’re here! They just called to tell me. I’m so relieved!”

Celia climbed into my lap, snuggling against my chest and holding on so tight I could barely breathe. I felt Mom’s hand on my head, patting my hair. Too many emotions crowded my heart and mind, making it difficult to speak. How much my child had missed me. How much they cared. And how sweet it felt to hug her, despite everything. Through my turmoil, I heard Charlie greeting my mother, asking her about knitting. Where had he learned about her hobby? Mom was part of a Ladies Yarn-Bombing group that covered trees in colorful knits and was always happy to talk about it.

Listening to their chatter, I regained my equilibrium. After a moment, my eyes searched for Charlie. It was like my body knew I needed to see him, even when my mind was undecided. He smiled at me across the table, then waited to catch Celia’s eye. She gave him a shy smile.

“Did you miss your mom?” he asked.

Celia nodded, burrowing her head into my chest.

Charlie offered my mom a seat at the table and we shuffled to make room for her. That’s when she noticed my moon boot.

“She’s okay.” Charlie jumped in before Mom could react. “The foot’s been X-rayed. It’s not fractured, but there’s possibly a torn ligament. She needs a lot of rest and some physical therapy, but she’ll be fine. I’ll make sure she gets any treatment she needs.”

“Good.” Mom sighed, fixing her wispy strawberry blond bob as she collapsed in her seat.

She’d always been a hopeless romantic. She’d fallen for the Irish poet, lived in Dublin and believed everything would work out. Until it didn’t. But, despite her own misfortune and my horrible luck in love, she still believed in fairytales, insisting that I should look for true love. Or failing that, a dependable wage earner who I’d grow to love. And there, watching her carefully assess Charlie from head to toe, I wondered if the ankle injury had made me telepathic, because I could hear the thoughts in her head.

Handsome. Wealthy. Responsible. Hang onto this one.

A week ago, I would have scoffed at ‘reliable’, but now the word slipped through without raising any alarm. I’d been relying on Charlie. I’d been hanging onto him for dear life and we’d made it out safely. But I couldn’t hang onto Charlie by getting pregnant. I had to get that pill somehow, from a town where nothing seemed to be open after five p.m. My eyes felt teary, but it was probably some sort of panic sweat from my brain.

Panic was contagious though, and I had to make sure Mom didn’t get onboard.

“I’m sorry you had to come all the way here.” I gave her my most reassuring smile, under the circumstances. “I tried to message you, but my phone died and Charlie didn’t have any reception. But we are both fine, I swear.”

Mom studied me for a moment, trying to decide if she could trust my words. My delivery was a little shaky, but the message was one she wanted to hear, and that helped. She grabbed my napkin and tried to fan herself with it. “I’m so relieved! The thoughts I had running through my head on the drive…” She sagged lower in her seat, sniffing dramatically.

“That must have been awful. I’m sorry.” I offered her my half-eaten plate. “Are you hungry?”

In my family, we fixed everything with food, as if low blood sugar was the primary source of emotional upheaval.

Charlie jumped to his feet. “Finish your meal, Bess. I’ll get your mom a plate. Celia?”

“Cheese sandwich and apple juice, please,” my daughter announced, looking up at Charlie like he was a genie who granted wishes.

“There’s only curry.” I pointed at my plate. “Take it or leave it.”

She dropped her chin, a picture of sadness. “Okay.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Charlie disappeared into the kitchen.

Mom didn’t waste any time leaning in with prying eyes. “So, what is the situation? Are you two…?”

I shook my head. “It’s not a good idea. I have to work with him. I can’t risk my job.”

“Some things might be worth a bit of risk-taking.” She raised her eyebrow, sneaking a piece of cauliflower off my plate.

“You know I can’t. Not right now. And speaking of risk…” I glanced at my daughter, spinning on her chair, taking in the huge, light-filled space, walls adorned with paintings. I could only hope she wasn’t listening that carefully. “I need to find a morning-after pill, but the pharmacy in Cozy Creek is closed. If we drive back right away, I could find a 24-hour one back home,” I whispered, half-terrified, half-relieved to get the truth out.

Mom stared at me for a moment, mouth ajar, eyes huge. Her fingers clasped the cross around her neck. “Oh, dear. Oh, dear. Well, we better get going then.”

I gave her a grateful nod. I knew she’d understand.

We were about to get up when Charlie barged through the kitchen door and placed the grilled cheese sandwich and a tall glass of apple juice in front of Celia. “Here you go, madam.”

“I’m not madam,” she giggled. “I’m Celia.”

“I’m sorry, of course you are.”

Charlie rushed back to the buffet and filled a plate for my mom.

“You don’t have to…” Mom protested half-heartedly, but accepted the food.

As she tucked in, I finished my meal and made a move to stand up. Charlie blocked my way. “What do you need? I’ll take your dishes away.” He took the plate off me. “Sit down. Rest that leg and keep it elevated. I’ll get you an extra chair.”

“Will you also go to the bathroom for me? I left my crutches in the car.”

Charlie didn’t miss a beat. “I’ll take you there.”

He helped me up and wrapped his hand around my waist, supporting me better than the crutches ever could. “We’ll be back soon,” he called to Celia and Mom.

As we exited the cafeteria, we ran into Miranda.

“You’re back! What happened? Everyone was so worried!”

Charlie gave her a quick rundown of our mountain adventures and she made appropriate noises of sympathy, frequently glancing out the window, staring at the mountain range in horror. “I can’t even imagine.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Charlie said. “But Bess needs to use the bathroom and I’m on duty, so…”

“Oh, of course.” Miranda flashed us an exaggerated smile and leapt ahead of us to open the disabled bathroom door.

As Charlie helped me through the doorway, I heard Miranda’s heels click on the hardwood floor. She was heading towards the art studio, presumably to update the others on our survival.

Locked inside the large bathroom with safety rails, I turned to Charlie. “So, I’m peeing in front of you?”

Charlie pressed his ear against the door. “I can hear them coming.” He winced. “Don’t make me go back out there.”

“I thought you liked talking to people.”

The way he vividly recounted our night in the wilderness to the captivated Miranda, I imagined him as an actor poised behind the theater curtain, eager to return to the stage and dazzle once more.

He cast me a desperate look. “But… I just did. I’m done. They’ll come and ask me to tell the same story again, and I don’t like that story.”

“What story?”

He stared at his hiking boots. “You know … the sanitized version. I don’t want to tell that story because every time I do, the real story fades.”

And just like that, he made sense to me. Painfully. Completely. Because it was all the things I couldn’t tell that mattered. All the moments we’d shared that I wanted to keep forever. I didn’t want them morphing into funny anecdotes or mortifying mistakes, downplayed to keep the tone light.

“I like our real story, too. The uncensored one.” I caught his eyes, and a fire rushed through me until I remembered where I was. “This isn’t part of that story, though. Right?” I glanced at the toilet bowl.

There were romantic locations, and then there was this.

He grinned. “Okay. We can edit this out.” He shifted between me and the toilet bowl, blocking my view. “Let me stay on this side of the door. I’ll close my eyes and block my ears and sing.”

I sighed. I’d given birth in front of three strangers. I could pee in front of one Charlie.

Despite my full bladder, I held still, suddenly aware of the opportunity I had. We were alone, maybe for the last time. I had to update him. “Charlie?”

“Yeah?”

“I need that morning-after pill. I told my mom. She’ll drive me back to Denver.”

His eyes flashed with alarm. “What, now?”

I nodded. “I can’t risk it. What happened out there was the most terrifying and magical thing in my life.” I bit my lip, forcing myself to look into his eyes. “I don’t want it to become a cautionary tale.”