Chapter 36

Chapter Thirty-Six

Bess

I woke up at dawn, my heart pounding. Within seconds, my mind caught up with my body’s panic.

The morning-after pill sat in its bag on my nightstand, unopened.

I’d fallen asleep.

The late-night phone call with Charlie had left me reeling, but with one sleepless night already under my belt, the exhaustion had won over. I must have gone out like a light. I was still in my hiking clothes and, judging by the rotten taste in my mouth, hadn’t brushed my teeth. Miraculously, Celia had slept through the night, lying across the bed with her head propped on my moon boot. She hadn’t peed the bed, either, I realized in relief.

Frantically counting the hours since unprotected sex, I got up, took the pill packet, and hobbled across the cabin as quietly as I could, to get a glass of water. To buy time, I stopped to brush my teeth and wash my face.

It was still dark outside. With any luck, Celia would stay asleep for another half hour. I settled by the window with my water glass and pill packet, watching the sky above the dark trees gradually turn lighter, signaling the coming day. The moment felt special, like a gift I wanted to store away. The blue moment of dawn.

I popped the blister and dropped the pill on my palm, frozen in my indecision.

Did I want Charlie’s baby? Or did I just want him to take care of me? If, by some miracle, I’d already gotten pregnant… would that be the worst thing in the world? Charlie would take care of me, of us, and I’d be far better off than I currently was, all because of one mistake.

But if I didn’t take the pill, I was willfully making that mistake. I’d be the conniving woman trying to trap a wealthy man by getting pregnant. I could never do that.

Yet, the pill remained in my hand.

Why was it so hard to swallow one tiny tablet?

This was my Matrix moment. This pill would detach me from the fantasy and face plant me back into my real life—back to uninspiring sceneries, tiny rental apartments and the daily struggle. It would sever the ties between myself and Charlie.

I’d take it. I just needed time to say goodbye.

I watched the sunrise make the sky glow, softening the shadows and revealing colors upon colors. I’d never forget Rubie Ridge. I’d judged this place as a pretentious upper-class resort, which it arguably was, but it had also slipped past my defenses, pulling me into its strange, invigorating, soothing orbit. Making me feel like I belonged. Like Charlie.

Without realizing it, I had my eyes trained on the parking lot, right when Charlie’s red Porsche Taycan rolled in. It was an ostentatious car, shining like a jewel in the faint morning light. But I couldn’t commit to my usual judgmental tone. Instead, my heart jumped to my throat. Charlie was here.

I didn’t even ask myself if I should go outside to meet him until I stood by the door in my bathrobe, my one healthy foot in a slipper, ready to limp towards him. Every part of me fizzed and bubbled like it was made of champagne. I opened the door quietly and slipped onto the porch, gasping at the chilly air.

Wait! The pill was still in my hand, but the glass of water sat on the table inside. Could I swallow it without water? Quickly now, I told myself. Just do it!

But with only one solid leg to stand on and my limbs stiff from sleep, my movements weren’t as swift and precise as I visualized. As I swung my hand, the pill rolled off my palm, hitting the porch with a faint clink.

Where had it gone?

Holding onto the baluster, I maneuvered down to my knees, scanning the wide wooden planks in the low light, but the pill had vanished. I stuck my finger into the crack between the planks. Was it wide enough for the pill to fit through? Surely not.

My heart pounding, I pulled myself up, feeling like the stupidest person on earth. I’d had one job.

I’d find that pill, I told myself. I’d take it a little later. Nobody would have to know.

I negotiated the stairs and advanced down the path, peering at the Porsche. But Charlie must have hopped out of the car while I’d been kneeling on the porch. When he appeared in front of me, seemingly out of nowhere, I jumped like a frightened bunny.

“Bess!” He grinned, wrapping me in the tightest hug of my life.

I felt his strong arms and the hard chest under his soft jersey. The scent of lemony soap and pine. So much pine, like Charlie had somehow become one with the evergreens.

I hugged him back a little awkwardly, a thousand doubts and worries rushing through my mind. But gradually, the warmth and conviction of his squeeze overwhelmed me, pushing those thoughts away. Charlie held me like I was his life raft and only hope of survival. My muscles relaxed and I settled against him, breathing in his scent. It felt so good I could only surrender.

“How was your night?” I asked when he finally released me. “Where did you stay?”

He looked at me for a moment, as if contemplating something. “One of the inns in town. It was fine.” He rolled his shoulders, stretching his neck.

“Terrible bed?” I guessed.

“No. It was fine.”

“Then why are you here so early?”

He cocked his head. “I couldn’t wait to see you. Why are you up so early?”

“I don’t know. I fell asleep quite early.” My hands flew to my face in embarrassment. “I slept in my hiking clothes.”

He laughed. “It’s okay. I’m glad you’re up. I was worried I’d wake you guys.”

“What time is it?” I reached for his left hand to look at his watch. 7:15 a.m. “The breakfast buffet opens in fifteen minutes, and I really need a shower.”

The cold air travelled up my sleeve, inducing a shiver.

He glanced at the cabin. “Are Celia and your mom still asleep?”

I nodded.

“Let’s go sit in my car. Just for a minute.” He pulled me down the path towards that shiny Porsche.

The interior smelled of leather, still warm from the drive. Charlie flicked on the power, adjusting the heat until I felt the blissful warmth of the seat warmer through my bathrobe. “This is nice.”

“It’s not a family car,” he said grimly, looking out the window. “We can trade to something more practical.”

“Trade? What? Why?” My brain spun in circles, grasping for meaning.

“I mean, I’m not a huge fan of minivans, but I’ll go for whatever?—”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I stared at him, feeling a little ill. I had to find that pill. Maybe another one for Charlie. “Nobody is asking you to trade cars. We’re not even supposed to be together, right? Not publicly. Not at work. I’ve loved this week, but this is the end of the road for us, Charlie. You know that, right?” The pain followed like a mini tsunami as I heard my own words.

I’d tried my hardest not to think about the future, but staring at the new dawn behind the windscreen, with my mother and child a few yards away, I could no longer hold the sobering thoughts at bay.

I could see my own pain reflected in Charlie’s eyes, but coupled with a dose of obstinance I wasn’t capable of. “No, I don’t know that. What does work have to do with any of it? We found each other! There’s something between us. You can’t deny that.” He shot me a look of challenge.

I couldn’t deny anything, but while I searched for words, his face softened, taking on a hint of desperation. “Are you breaking up with me, Bess?”

“We can’t break up. We’re not together.”

He took my hands in his, staring at them. “How about this? We play a couple for one more day. No talk about the future or the office… other than the campaign, if you want to help me with that. But otherwise, we pretend that stuff doesn’t exist. We’re just two people traveling in the mountains.”

Outside the window, the tips of the spruce trees glowed in the morning sun like a row of bright teepees. It was going to be a beautiful day.

“What about my mom and Celia? They know we’re not really dating.”

“You told your mom you needed a morning-after pill. If she still thinks we’re platonic buddies, I don’t think we need to worry about her skills of detection.”

I let out a sad chuckle. “Yeah, okay. She knows we slept together, but I told her I can’t risk getting involved.”

“You’re already involved, Bess, and you know it. I know I’m involved up to my eyeballs. Even your mom knows that.”

“But, next week?—”

“Can you give me this one day? Just one day since we’re still here.”

“One day,” I said slowly. “What difference does one day make?”

Charlie held up one finger, grabbed his phone off the hands-free stand and opened Spotify. ‘What a difference a day makes’ by Dinah Washington flooded through the car speakers, filling the space between us with its old-fashioned charm.

Charlie crooned along as the song reached its crescendo. He had a nice voice.

I couldn’t help smiling and he used the opportunity to pull me against his chest, whispering into my hair. “Is that a yes?”

“One day,” I whispered.

There was no harm in playing for a little while longer. If I fell pregnant because of my own clumsiness, I’d at least have one day of beautiful memories to keep me company. That, and two kids I couldn’t afford to feed.

Oh, dear Lord. I had to find that pill.

“I’m not perfect,” he said, his eyes glistening with gravity. “I make mistakes and I’m going to mess this up. But I’m hoping, by then, the good things weigh more.”

“I’m not perfect either,” I said, swallowing hard. My mistakes could cost us dearly. More than he knew.

“Bess, I’m falling?—”

I placed a finger on his lips, trapping the words. I couldn’t bear to hear them. I knew my heart would spit out the echo of them without a moment’s thought. There’d be no going back. “Don’t say it, Charlie.”

I wrapped my fingers around his neck, reaching to kiss him. He didn’t fight me, but the way he kissed me back, slowly and tenderly, spoke volumes. I allowed myself one last moment of bliss, forgetting everything else, letting that affection pour through me and flood every corner of my body.

When I felt the need building up in my core, I pulled away and clambered out of the car. “Let’s go.”

He caught up with my slow limping and helped me to the cabin. I could hear Celia’s squeals through the door. My eyes did a quick scan of the porch as I stepped across it, coming up with nothing.

“Mom! Where did you go?” my daughter yelled as Charlie opened the door.

“I saw Charlie’s car, so I went out to meet him.”

Mom appeared from the bathroom, looking freshly groomed. “Good morning! This place is so quiet, I can’t believe it. No traffic, no sirens, no neighbors… nothing.”

“Breakfast?” Charlie gestured at the door.

“Isn’t this amazing?” Mom looked at us in awe. “I hope they have coffee.”

“And cereal!” Celia’s eyes shone like stars.

“Of course, they do.” Charlie chuckled. “Your mom can show you how to mix all the different cereals in one bowl and create a whole new breakfast dish.”

“All in the same bowl?” Celia looked at him like he’d suggested it was going to rain Froot Loops.

When we arrived in the cafeteria, the kitchen staff was still setting up the buffet. Only Harry sat at a corner table, raising his hand at us. “Good morning, early birds! Are you ready for the big reveal? Three p.m. today.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“When we’re revealing everyone’s artwork. Should be fun.”

“Ah.” I glanced at Charlie. “We kind of missed half the week lost in the forest, so we have nothing to show for ourselves.”

“There’s still time.” Harry wiggled his eyebrows. “The winner gets a free week’s stay at Rubie Ridge.”

“A free week here?” Mom’s voice vibrated with reverence. “You should do something, Bess. You could win it.”

“You could do it together,” Harry suggested. “I’m sure that’d be fine, given you’ve lost so much time. Let’s ask.” He raised his hand, looking over my shoulder. “Good morning, Leonie! A question.”

Leonie appeared by his table, wearing a yellow kaftan and a tired smile. She turned to us, lowering her voice to a hush. “I’m so sorry about what happened. I didn’t want to bother you last night as it was late. I thought it best to let you get some rest. How’s the leg?”

“It’s okay.” I waved at the moon boot. “I’m sorry we missed so much of the classes.”

“They could present their final artwork together, right?” Harry nodded at us. “There’s still a bit of time.”

“If you’d like to participate, that’d be fantastic!” Leonie clasped her hands together, her clunky bracelets clanging like cymbals. “I was worried you wouldn’t get to be part of the gallery opening this afternoon. That’s where we vote for the winners. I’d hate for you to be left out.”

Charlie cast me a questioning look. “What do you think? Before we went into the forest, I had an idea of something we would build with pinecones and a bit of glue. Might be fun with Celia.”

“But don’t you need to work on the campaign?”

“I can do that tomorrow. Today is… a special day, remember?”

“Cereal!” my child yelled as Tag the kitchen helper poured cornflakes into a dispenser.

I nodded. “Okay. First cereal, then pinecones.”

We filled our trays and took the table Harry had vacated, after he rushed back to finish his artwork. As we sat down, more people arrived. I heard them talking about their art pieces in excited but hushed tones, careful not to reveal their ideas to the wrong people. I wondered when the relaxing week of art classes had turned into this sort of competition.

Celia shoveled multi-colored cereal into her mouth, her face shining with excitement. “Can we have this every morning, Mom?” she asked between mouthfuls.

“That looks like Froot Loops,” Charlie observed.

“It’s not. It’s some sort of fancy, organic alternative. The brand names and ingredients are all written on those little cards.” I gestured at the buffet.

“Great.” He left to take a photo of the card.

“What is he doing?” Celia asked us.

“I think he’s finding out what it is so he can buy it for you,” my mom explained helpfully, an approving smile hovering on her lips.

“No, sweetie. He just likes it, too,” I corrected, shooting Mom a warning look.

“If he likes it, why didn’t he take any?” Celia pointed at Charlie’s tray with a piece of toast and a coffee.

Mom raised her brow at me, siding with my daughter. But they didn’t know Charlie like I did. As much as my heart fluttered around him, I had to look at the big picture. I had to consider the Charlie I knew from work. The spontaneous, excitable guy with a major shiny-new-object syndrome. I’d seen the fads come and go. The robots and 3D printers, cars and girlfriends. Charlie got excited, then he got bored. Some boxes didn’t even get opened as his interests shifted to something else. As much as my heart screamed otherwise, I couldn’t stake my daughter’s happiness on someone like that.

I could enjoy the ride. That was the best anyone could get with Charlie, and that’s what I was going to do today.

After breakfast, Charlie lifted Celia on his shoulders and carried her back to the cabin. The girl giggled with excitement as they reached the door and Charlie had to scoot down to fit them both through.

“Ready to fly?”

“Yes!”

He lifted Celia off his shoulders and heaved her onto the bed. She squealed and laughed so hard she got the hiccups. I had to remind her to breathe so she wouldn’t start coughing and throw up. Still, I couldn’t help but smile, a lump in my throat, as she got up and yelled, “Again!”

When had I seen her like this? I didn’t really play with her. I could only hope she had these moments in kindergarten.

“What was the pinecone idea you had?” I asked Charlie, plopping on the edge of the bed, lifting my leg up on it. “How many do we need for it? Because I might not be of that much help.”

Charlie ran his fingers through his hair, a cheeky smile on his face. “I was actually hoping Celia could help us.” He turned to my daughter, now climbing over the back of the couch, then sliding down on her tummy.

“Help with what?” she asked, looking up.

“I’ll show you. Put your shoes and jacket back on. Let’s go!” He picked up my backpack. “Can we use this?”

“Where are you going?” I asked, watching Celia pull on her purple puffer jacket and booties.

“Outside to collect pinecones. We won’t go far. Don’t worry.”

I tried to get up, but Charlie motioned me to stay put. “Stay. Rest that leg. Take a shower. Do you need help with that?”

“I should be fine.” I glanced at the bathroom, letting myself imagine the bliss of warm water. “Are you sure?”

Nobody took my child off my hands to give me a break, not even Mom. Not unless I asked.

Mom followed them to the door, throwing me a reassuring smile over her shoulder. “He’s right. You won’t be of much help like that. Stay back and rest.”

Charlie turned to Celia. “I think you have some great ideas about what we can do with the pinecones. Let’s find some good ones first, and then you can tell me what you think we should do.”

I pointed at the bowl of pinecones on the table. “He’s talking about those, Ce. They’ve probably fallen off the trees around here. Look!”

Mom took one of the large pinecones and handed it to Celia. She turned it in her hands, head tilted. She had my natural urge to say the right thing. Be honest. And right now, Charlie, her hero, was asking for her help.

“We should put it back in the tree,” she decided, handing it to Charlie.

“Hang it back in the tree? Why?”

“Because it fell, and maybe the tree wants it back. Maybe it misses it.”

“But what if we can’t put it back? What should we do then?”

She thought for a moment. “Make a new tree for it. Just like the old one, but purple!”

“A purple tree. Interesting.” Charlie cocked his head. “Should we paint them all purple?”

“Yes!” Celia shouted, clearly visualizing the incredible display of purple, her favorite color.

“But we need lots of pinecones like this. Big, beautiful ones. Can you help me find them?”

The girl vibrated with energy and enthusiasm, bouncing against the door. Charlie opened it for them, flashing me one last smile before disappearing outside.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure they don’t wander off into the forest,” Mom told me, closing the door behind them.

Suddenly, the room felt deafeningly quiet. Never in a million years had I thought that our last special day would include having a cabin to myself. It took me a moment to get my bearings, but I eventually made it to my feet and into the shower. As I stood under the hot stream of water, leaning on my one good leg, it hit me.

Charlie wasn’t just playing a couple. He was playing a family. Could I let him go on like this? Could I enjoy the break and having another adult around, one who was strong enough to carry my child?

One day wasn’t long enough to get too attached, I decided. Celia would be fine. She already knew Charlie, the man with the gadgets. He was the fun uncle. It was me who was getting far too attached. Going back to my life was going to hurt, but that was still the plan. What else could I do? I couldn’t risk my whole life on this man, no matter what my heart was blabbering about.

And if I didn’t find the lost pill on the porch, what would I do then?