33. Family Ties

Chapter 33

Family Ties

Charlie stood in front of a wall of hardware, staring at but not seeing the nuts and bolts and anchors. What had he come here looking for? Ever since he'd glimpsed the first lines of that letter, mists had moved across his mind, and he couldn't see through them.

Add to that a disturbing discovery he'd made when he'd stopped by the Haven on his way to the hardware store, and he was reeling. He'd gone there to check on supplies, only to find that yesterday's delivery was now short a load of drywall and four buckets of mud.

Between the unsettling find and whatever Joy was currently grappling with, he couldn't concentrate. So he continued to stare at the wall, and despite knowing someone was robbing him, he shifted every ounce of his focus to Joy. He wanted to give her space, but now he second-guessed his decision to leave her alone. Foreboding crept along his neck, prickling his skin, raising the fine hairs.

He hadn't recognized the addressee on the front of the envelopes, so he'd opened the first one thinking it was a curious find. It hadn't taken but a few sentences for reality to sink in .

"Hey, Charlie," one of store's owners called. "You're looking like you could use some help."

"Nah, I'm good. I just remembered I've got what I need. Thanks, man." Charlie jogged to his truck. He still couldn't remember what had brought him here, but clarity of a different nature smacked him in the face.

If the blasts from Joy's very difficult past were going to tear her apart, he wanted to be the one to pick up the pieces and put them back together.

Back at his house, he opened the front door and let himself in. He spotted the dogs playing in the backyard as he inched toward the guest bedroom. The door was cracked open, so he peeped in, startled to see Joy cramming clothes into her carry-on that lay open on the bed. Her back was to him, and he took a few seconds trying—and failing—to reconcile what he was seeing.

He gripped the edge of the door and eased inside the room. "Hey, princess. What's going on?"

She wheeled, her eyes red and watery. "I have to go. And would you please stop calling me that?"

Alarm welled inside of him. "Okay. I … I'm sorry? Wait. Go where? Why? What happened?"

"To Chicago. I'm leaving." She turned back to her haphazard packing. Her body seemed to vibrate.

He edged closer, afraid to touch her. "Is someone hurt? Estelle?"

"No, Charlie. No one's hurt. I have to get home. I've been gone too long."

Home . The word rocked him, though it shouldn't have. Chicago was home for her, and he'd been living in some kind of fairy tale that was evidently dissolving before his eyes. Was she dumping him? Because he'd called her "princess" one too many times?

"When are you leaving?"

"As soon as I'm packed."

"For how long?"

"For good. It's where I live." Her voice was flat and reed-thin.

In a mindless fog, he went to the back door and let the dogs inside. Luna whimpered, and Sunny's furry brows drew together, lending her a sad look nearly impossible for a Lab. He mixed sugar and water in a saucepan and set them to boil on the stove while he slotted the emotions churning in his gut .

Dragging three bracing breaths into his lungs, he returned to the guest room. Joy stood at the foot of the bed, her head and shoulders drooping. The suitcase and clothing were in the same chaotic disarray. She swiveled her head slowly and glanced at him through a curtain of hair.

He covered the few steps dividing them and pushed her silky strands behind her ears. Wordlessly, he searched her eyes. They were listless, as if her soul had flown off on vacation somewhere far away. A subtle shift, and he glimpsed loss and fear in their depths before she turned away. All of him fought down his rising panic. This was not the Joy he knew. Something was terribly wrong.

Swallowing around a lump in his throat, he slid behind her and wrapped her up in his arms. She sagged against him, her head lolling to one side, and she fiercely gripped his forearms as if trying to anchor herself to them.

They stood like that for long moments until he cupped her chin and turned her face upward to meet his gaze. "Why so sudden, and why now?" Her golden eyes turned glassy. "What set this off, Joy? I want to know. I want to help."

"You can't. No one can." Casting her eyes down, she pulled in a shuddering breath and whispered, "I'm not their daughter."

His head involuntarily jerked backward. "Come again?"

"I'm not Sid and Helene's daughter, Charlie," she choked, breaking free of his hold and facing him. "The letters you found were written by Helene to her brother, my uncle. There are journal pages in her handwriting too. The whole story is there."

Once she started talking, she didn't stop. "My parents and my sister lived in Topeka. My father—or the guy I thought was my father—found me wandering on the side of a highway somewhere near Wichita when I was two, and he brought me home. This was in July, and they figured I'd been outdoors for a while because I was hungry and sunburned and covered in bites and bruises. He did some investigating but couldn't figure out where I'd come from or who I belonged to. There were no reports of missing children who fit my description, and he didn't want to put the word out there in case whoever had abandoned me wanted to do more harm. In his mind, he was saving my life.

"He stopped checking. He had already made up his mind that he and Helene would make a home for me, so we moved to Nebraska to get away from people asking questions. He insisted they keep it a secret so I didn't wind up in the foster system. They fought over it. A lot. When we settled in our new town, they passed me off as their biological daughter, but Helene was always afraid of the consequences if the authorities found out. She also worried someone would claim me and take me away. That might explain why she and I never bonded. She didn't want to get attached."

She released a shuddering exhale. "Charlie, I don't belong to any body."

You belong to me .

Her lower lip wobbled, and her eyes brimmed. She blinked furiously to hold back the tears. That look, plus the quaver in her voice, gutted him. His strong, vibrant woman was shaken to the core, her tough facade in ruins.

He had no idea what to say or how to take away the pain. "Are you sure they're legit? Why would Helene have letters she wrote?"

"She asked my uncle to return them because she was worried I might come across them." She took an angry swipe at her cheek. "The letters lay it all out. I have no idea why she walled them up instead of destroying them."

He moved around her, took her hands in his, and dropped onto the edge of the mattress, where he pulled her into his lap. She folded like a limp doll in his arms, and he tucked her head under his chin and held her tight while he rocked her. If he willed it, he could become her shield and protect her. He could—

A splash hissed in the kitchen, and he reluctantly scooted her off his lap. "Hang on. I need to turn off the nectar."

She raised her head and squinted. "The what?"

"Nectar. For the hummingbirds." He tapped the end of her upturned nose, going for a casualness that was total counterfeit. "Who do you think fills the feeders?"

She blinked. "You do?"

"I do." He planted a kiss on her crown and returned to the kitchen to take the boiling mixture off the burner. The simple, routine chore gave him space to breathe.

Back in the bedroom, Joy had folded a few items and was rearranging her bag. The letters peeked out from beneath the silky white top she'd worn the first day he'd met her. It seemed like years ago. And oddly, he felt as if he'd known her half his life rather than one short month .

She glanced up at him. "I've never met a man who makes nectar for hummingbirds." Her voice was flat. "You're a good man, Charlie Hunnicutt, and I'm going to miss you."

Whoa, whoa, whoa! "That sounds like a good-bye speech." A good-bye for which he was wholly unprepared.

She sniffled. "I have to be at Silver Summit in an hour to meet with my client, and then I'll leave straight from there to fly back to Chicago."

"What about your car?" he sputtered. It was all his lame ass could come up with.

What about me? About us?

"I've made arrangements for it to be picked up at the resort."

"How are you getting to the airport?" If he could drive her there, it would give him five hours to convince her that—

"My client has a private jet and offered for me to ride with him."

Charlie's caveman woke up from its daze, silently demanding to know who this client was and what he meant to Joy.

"And before you get any ideas, he's in his seventies, and his daughter is coming with him. She lives in Joliet, so he's going to Chicago anyway. It's all handled, Charlie. There's nothing for you to do."

But I want to do something! He couldn't just stand there staring at the best thing in his life as she walked out the door. When had he fallen so completely for her?

He was in love with this woman. Wholly. Unequivocally.

She picked up a stuffed plastic bag. "You could do me one huge favor, though."

"What?" he practically barked. If the ask in any way kept her there, he was on board. Hell, if she asked him to go with her, he'd do it. But she didn't.

"I couldn't fit these in my suitcase, and I was hoping you could take them to the Western Slope women's shelter for me? Or give them to Hailey. She'll know what to do with them."

Mind numb, he took the bag from her and dropped it beside him. "What does this mean for us, Joy?" His breathing stopped.

Her eyes turned glossy again, and his pounding heart plummeted to his knees. "I don't know, Charlie. I need to get back and dive into the mounds of work I've neglected before I can come up for air and devote any thought to the rest of my life. "

"I'm guessing I'm part of that ‘rest of my life.' Good to know where I stand."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Then how did you mean it, Joy?" His voice slid up a decibel or two.

She picked up a tiny tank top and twisted it around her fingers. "I don't … Charlie, please don't take this the wrong way, but I'm not … My world has been turned on its head. Up is down, and down is up. I need to get back to what I know, to where I belong, so I can find my way. I'm rudderless right now, and I'm no good to myself, to anyone—especially you. Can you help me out here and try to understand?"

Her world was topsy-turvy, but his was imploding, and he wasn't feeling so generous. "What about our project?"

"You proved a long time ago that you know your business. I've just been getting in the way. You're my partner, and I trust you. You have carte blanche."

Small consolation, that.

"You're running, Joy. That's not you."

Shaking her head, she dropped the top and pressed her fingers to her forehead. "You don't know me."

I thought I did. "No, I guess I don't."

His heart sat like a boulder in his chest as he helped her pack her car. He debated ad nauseum whether to hang it all out there and let her know what was etched on his heart, but survival instinct kicked in and clawed him back from tumbling headlong into making a complete ass of himself.

She spared the dogs more minutes in her good-byes than she did him, and he told himself it was better that way as he watched her pull away. He closed and locked the front door and busied himself with feeding the dogs and filling the feeders, musing that if he was such a great guy for doing something as mundane as making nectar, why the hell had she left him with little hope to cling to?

He cruised past the guest bedroom and looked in, hoping he'd awakened from a nightmare and would see her sitting there, propped against the pillows, her long, bare legs crossed at the ankle as she tapped away on her keyboard or talked into her headset. His illusion, unsurprisingly, was shattered by reality.

As he was pivoting away, something poked out from beneath the bed, snagging his attention. Leaning down to pluck it up, he realized it was one of the letters he'd discovered in Helene's bedroom. The crazy notion that this would bring Joy back struck, and hope broke the surface once more.

He pressed her number on his phone, and she picked up on the first ring. "You left one of the letters behind."

"Burn it," she sighed. "Or bury it back in the wall with all the other memories, where it belongs. I don't want it. Bye." She clicked off.

He stared at his device, feeling the finality of her words slice through him. Frustration and pain collided inside him. Why hadn't he left the damn things where he'd found them?

He fingered the envelope, opened it, and teased out the letter, weighing it in his hand as he wrestled with guilt over snooping. Hell, he knew this woman's body inside and out, what harm would it do to delve into her mind a little more, to understand what had sent her scurrying?

Out in the living room, he lay back on the couch and unfolded the letter. Luna whined and shook beside him, and he slid her a side-eye. "I know she let you up here, little girl, but she's gone, so that stops. Now."

Luna ignored his stern voice and gave him the puppy eyes. Soon he relented and patted his stomach. She hopped up, and he stroked her head.

"Damn, I am way too easy to manipulate."

Beside him, Sunny whimpered.

"I get that you miss Joy too, but you're too big to jump up here." The dog was a glutton for ear scratches, so he indulged her, feeling a little less glum. "I don't know what I'd do without you two."

He settled in and began to read.

Dear Darryl,

I am so sorry to hear about the trouble you're having with Joy. I'm distraught to learn her behavior has worsened. I prayed she would settle in once she was part of your family. I don't understand why she continues to act out. She has always been a willful child, too clever by half, but when Sid was with us, he was able to keep her calm. She was his little princess. Sadly, it is becoming more obvious with time that only Sid had the secret to fixing her.

What shall we do? I pray every day for a solution. I can't bring her to Colorado permanently. Mary is finally adjusting, as am I, and I worry about upsetting that balance and what it could mean for Joy's safety.

I am wringing my hands over what I might have done to Sid's child and to you and your family, dear brother. I understand Louise's animosity toward me and toward Joy, but believe me when I say I am devastated over this outcome. Let's plan to talk a week from Sunday about how we can fix this—fix Joy—to restore your family's peace and harmony. I am so very sorry.

Your loving sister,

Helene

Dropping his head back, Charlie swiped at his suddenly moist eyes. Any sympathy he'd been allowing himself immediately jumped to Joy. His childhood had been a cakewalk compared to hers. Hell, his entire life.

How could he help Joy overcome her past and see that she belonged here , that she was loved—especially if she wasn't ready to face her demons?

Charlie texted Joy to be sure she reached the resort. She had, but her reply was clipped, so he left it and took care of the dogs before changing and walking to the Miners Tavern. He wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone, but the din would fill his head and crowd out his self-pitying thoughts, his what-ifs, and his if-onlys. Questions, like whether he and Joy would ever recover that lightning in a bottle they'd captured or whether she'd forget him as soon as she returned to her high-flying life, circled inside his brain on a loop.

It was Friday night, and the place was packed. Reece was helping Noah and Hailey behind the bar, leaving Charlie to slide onto the only unoccupied barstool, which happened to be on the end beside Neve.

She greeted him with a kiss on the cheek and a half hug. "Where's Joy?"

He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "She left."

"Left, as in left for good?"

He shrugged. "Maybe. Don't know for sure."

Neve waved at Reece, who just happened to be working this particular section. Coincidence? Probably not. "Double Jameson for my friend here."

Reece delivered the order with a coaster and a furrowed forehead. "Everything okay?"

Charlie saluted him with the drink. "It will be." He tossed back most of the whiskey and brought the glass down hard on the bar top .

Neve flexed an eyebrow. "Okay, sport. Let's hear it." Reece turned away to help another customer, and Neve slid her gaze his way before snapping it back to Charlie.

Three doubles later, Charlie was lamenting tearing into the Haven's bedroom wall. "Goddamn it, I wish I'd never shown her those letters."

Neve placed a hand on his shoulder. "You couldn't have kept them from her, Charlie Hunnicutt, because it would have been wrong, and that's not you."

"Wanna bet?" he scoffed.

He was turned toward Neve, his back exposed to the empty space between the end of the bar and a picture window. He felt something brush against him.

"Go to Chicago and track that woman down," Dixie whispered in his ear.

He flinched and nearly spilled his drink. He whirled on the stool and faced the brassy blond, whose hands rested on her round hips. "This is where she belongs. You know it, and I know it. She doesn't know it yet, but you're going to go get her and tell her." She bobbed her head as if to punctuate her conclusion.

"Who belongs where?" Reece's voice came from behind him.

"Helene's daughter," Dixie informed him before Charlie could even open his mouth. His head ping-ponged between the two of them.

Reece crossed his arms. "You mean Zoe Saldana or the other one?"

Hailey sidled up beside Reece, mirroring his stance. "Zoe. Of course."

"Charlie's going to Chicago to get her," Neve chimed in.

"When's he going?" Hailey this time.

Charlie threw up his hands. "Whoa! Everyone hold up. First of all, I'm sitting right here , so you can talk to me instead of about me. Second, even if I wanted to go to Chicago, I can't. I've got too much going on here."

Reece cocked an eyebrow. "What's on your plate?"

Charlie gave him a rundown, thinking that would shut everyone up. It didn't.

"I'm off for a while," Reece offered. "Show me what you need, and I can step in for you, as long as it's temporary."

This was a surprise. "You never take time off. How long is ‘a while'?"

Reece scratched the back of his head. "I'm not sure. Let's call it indefinite for the time being. "

Charlie's eyes widened. "Why?"

Other heads turned like ping-pong spectators now. Dixie, of course, disappeared.

Reece shrugged. "Needed a break, which means I have time on my hands. Put me to work."

Neve gave Charlie's arm a shove before Charlie could call his older brother on his evasive answer. "Yeah. Put him to work and catch the next plane to Chicago."

"Who's going to Chicago?" Where the hell had Micky come from? "And can I come too?"

Neve swiveled her head toward the new arrival. "Joy left, and Charlie's going after her. Isn't that romantic?"

"Wait. Joy left? When? Did she take the M3 with her?"

The group groaned. "Of course she did," Neve admonished. "Did you think she was going to gift it to you?"

Micky grinned. "A guy can dream. So when are you going after her, homie?"

"You don't have any other excuses," Hailey added helpfully.

"Actually, I do," Charlie protested from the corner they were backing him into. "I have a meeting with the Silver Summit dudes on Tuesday."

"Hey," Noah chirped from down the bar, "why didn't you tell me?"

"Because, asshole, you did squat to set it up. I figured you had no interest."

"Tell me when. I'll be there. I'll even drive." Noah had the balls to grin at him.

"Fucking fantastic," Charlie grumbled.

Hailey tapped him on the arm. "So go right after."

Charlie flung out a hand. "Don't you guys have customers to wait on? Why don't you go take care of them and leave me the hell alone?"

They scattered, which left Charlie with Neve and Micky.

"Watch out," Neve whisper-shouted. "Charlie's kinda grumpy."

"For good reason." He finished off his Jameson. "Micky, you may have my barstool. Neve, thank you for the drinks. Reece—"

Reece turned and gave him a wave. "I'll stop by tomorrow."

These knuckleheads were practically putting him on a plane to Chicago. As he stepped outside, he pondered what Joy would do if he showed up. Would she be happy to see him ?

He decided to take a roundabout way home to help walk off the whiskey. The streets were quiet. People had either retreated to their homes or hotel rooms or they were part of the Miners crowd. Without giving his direction much thought, he let his feet carry him toward Crystal Harmony Haven.

"I need to stop calling it that," he muttered to himself. The sign had been taken down, and the building was more a set of walls than a structure. "You have to rip them down to build them up," he said to the night.

He paced along the walkway that wrapped around the side of the store, taking in the paper-covered windows to be sure they were well secured, when the reflection of a red light in the glass caught his attention. It was coming from the backyard.

Flattening himself against the building, he crept sideways, trying to keep himself in the shadows. He heard voices, heard the rumble of a running engine. When he reached the back corner, he craned his head. The red turned out to be a pair of taillights on the back of an enclosed construction trailer. They threw little illumination, and there was no other light. Even the motion sensor he'd installed around the store seemed to be out.

He caught movement around the trailer—one or two forms, he wasn't sure. The trailer's door clanged shut, and someone slapped the back of the trailer.

"Hey!" he shouted and launched into a sprint.

The silhouettes jumped and dove into a dark truck hauling the trailer, and the rig squealed out of the yard. He chased it, nearly caught the back end of the rig, but it rounded a corner and tore down Bowen Street headed for the highway. Without lights.

He bent over, hands braced on his knees as he caught his breath. Glancing over his shoulder at the back of the store, he grinned.

"Gotcha."

Soon he'd know exactly who was playing the part of thief and saboteur.