Chapter Twenty

Charlotte

The cool breeze was a welcome change to the oppressive heat that August had brought, and on the wind, a hint of the coming fall’s slightly cooler weather. Granted, Texas didn’t really experience fall the way most of the country did. Even Oklahoma had a mild fall and winter, but it was better than Texas. I often wondered if I would be happier somewhere north, where I could actually experience all four seasons instead of four different variations of Hell’s front porch.

Sitting on a bench in the park hadn’t been a plan; it was just where I ended up. I needed somewhere to think and calm down. I vaguely recalled the plans for a park being built in this area that used to just be a collection of trees and dirt, and sure enough, in the time I’d been away, it had been turned into something functional. Swing sets and a playground in the front, a couple baseball fields in the back, and a walking trail through a few trees was what constituted the Louisa County Park. The bench sat at the very front, overlooking it all, and I’d been sitting there for quite a while.

Lost in my thoughts, I suddenly realized I hadn’t checked my phone for some time . I had a terrible habit of silencing it and then forgetting to turn that off. As usual, when I pulled out my phone, I saw that I’d done it again and had over a dozen notifications.

Some were missed calls, either from Tamara or Jesse, which surprised me. A text from Jesse, from just minutes before, asked where I was. I decided to call him back rather than text, just so I could hear his voice.

“Jesse?”

“Charlotte, thank God. Where are you?” he asked, sounding exasperated.

“I’m at the park, down the street from the jail. Where are you?”

“Back at the ranch,” he said. “I thought you might be at the Millers’ so I went there.”

“Oh,” I said. “Well, I’m here. Do you want me to come there?”

“No,” he said. “I’ll come to you. Just don’t move.”

Twenty minutes later, I watched as his car pulled up and parked in the little parking area. I waited on the bench as he hopped out and made his way over. His lip looked slightly swollen, and he seemed to be favoring one of his sides as he sat beside me.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey. So…”

“So I went to the jail to get you out,” I said.

“You did?”

I nodded. “Lacey was there.”

“Lacey? Banks?”

I nodded again.

“She showed me some screenshots of text messages you sent her. Thanking her for a good night and asking if she could walk correctly. They were timestamped to nine months before the baby was born.”

I let the words hang in the air. Not exactly an accusation, but clearly looking for an explanation. I waited as he shifted in his seat.

“I’m sure she did show you some text messages,” he said. “But they aren’t real. I don’t know how she faked them, but I never texted her. The problem is, I changed my phone twice since then. Even if I thought I might have sent them, I can’t look them up or anything.”

“So you think she faked them?”

“I have no recollection of them, and yes, I don’t put it past her to have faked them.”

I nodded.

“When I was leaving,” I said. “I saw her and Trish talking. They seemed like they were close. Like they had been friends a long time. Did you know she was friends with Trish?”

“Absolutely not,” he said. “That would have been a non-starter from the beginning. If she became friends with them, I think it had to have happened after we dated.”

“So ten years ago. But why all this? What’s the point?”

He shrugged. “Never put it past an Anderson that any action they are taking is an attempt to defraud or destroy the Galloway name. I’m sure it traces back to them somehow. I just don’t know how.”

“You think Trish and the Andersons befriended Lacey and are doing all this just to get back at you?”

“I know that sounds farfetched,” he said. “But yes. I think that is a very real possibility. And until further notice, it’s the idea I am going to believe.”

We sat silently for a few moments, looking at the park with the children playing. I wondered how likely it was that maybe he just didn’t remember. That this child really was his. If that was so, then would I be able to deal with that? Knowing someone else had his child? Knowing that I’d never really get to know that child, unless it became an adult and wanted to know him? It was a lot to process.

At the same time, he might be right. It might be some grand conspiracy. Even I had my doubts about certain elements of her story. Why did she keep calling her child ‘the baby’ when it would be nearly ten years old now? Why didn’t she have any pictures of him on her phone to show? Why did she have text messages from eight years ago all cued up? And not anything with her and this child that should resemble Jesse so much that it was impossible to say?

So many questions swirled in my mind, but above all of them were the words I needed to say. Things that needed to be cleared up before I could even contemplate a scandal like this one. I cleared my throat and shifted on the seat.

“There’s something else we should talk ab—” I began, but I was cut off by my now unsilenced ringer.

“You should check that. It might be your sister.”

Sighing, I pulled the phone out again and glanced at the screen. My blood felt like it turned to ice. On the screen was a picture of Graham with his name. Jesse saw it, and I looked up to him, expecting to see anger. Instead, his face was unexpressive, and he simply nodded toward the phone.

“You should take that.”

“But we’re talking,” I said.

“Seriously, you should take it.”

Groaning in frustration, I swiped the call open and put the phone to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Charlotte,” Graham said on the other end. He sounded like he was somewhere busy, with lots of voices around him, enough that he felt he needed to almost shout into the phone. “Charlotte, can you hear me?”

“Yes, I can hear you,” I said. “What do you need?”

“I was just making sure you were going to be on the plane before ten,” he said. “I didn’t want to spoil it for you, but there is an event in Paris tomorrow night. Something I’ve been putting together for a while, and I need you there with me.”

“Graham, I…” I began, but Jesse stood and looked down at me. The words froze in my throat as he smiled painfully, nodded, and turned to walk away. “Graham, I have to go.”

“Yes, of course. Ten p.m., though. Make sure you are there! I wouldn’t want you to miss this event!”

“I’ll call you back,” I said.

Hanging up unceremoniously, I stood, watching as Jesse walked away with a determined stride.

“Jesse!”

He didn’t stop. He kept moving toward the car, and I felt like the world was presenting me with a flashpoint moment. I could let him go and maybe never hear from him again. I’d go to Paris and see Graham and likely move on. Or I could chase him down, throw everything else away, and see where this could take us.

I knew which one was the smart play. I knew which one that anyone else would tell me to do.

But I also knew what my heart was saying.

“Jesse!” I shouted again. “Wait!”

I took off running behind him, phone in my hand, knowing that if I caught him, I might be throwing everything I’d worked for since I moved to Oklahoma into the trash. Just for the chance. The chance to make something with Jesse, with all his drama and problems.

Was I really ready for that?

Jesse turned, and in his eyes I saw the hurt and sadness that I’d never wanted to see there. But I also felt like I could change that sadness. If he would just give me a chance.