Back to Yesterday (13 page)

“He refused to leave,” someone whispered.

I sat up and spun around to find the voice. My dad sat in one of the armchairs across the room. “He refused to leave,” he whispered again. The streetlights that filtered in through the window illuminated his face enough so that I could see the tilt of his head and the compassion in his eyes. I opened my mouth to respond, but he echoed the same words again, only this time he added, “Hear what I’m saying, baby girl. He…refused…to…leave.”

This time, the words knocked the breath out of my lungs. “Dad,” I choked.

“He refused to leave,” he repeated. Each time he said it, it was quiet, unassuming, yet relentless.

“Stop,” I begged.

“He refused to leave.”

“Dad.”

“He refused to leave.”

A fat tear rolled down my cheek.

“He refused to leave.”

“You have to stop,” I pleaded.

Dad went quiet and I silently thanked him for the reprieve. I laid my head back down and folded my arm over my eyes.

“Go back to sleep, baby girl. I’ll see you in the morning.”

I listened until his footsteps had carried him upstairs and I let out a shaky breath. Years of hurt had managed to catch up to me that night and I didn’t know why. I had been numb to it, putting all of my emotions into a box and keeping the lid closed, and now that lid had been opened, I desperately wanted to slam it shut, lock it away in a closet, and throw away the key.

I lay there for a while trying to unravel how I had become so unsteady, however, my swollen and puffy eyes grew heavy and sleep was fast approaching.

I was just dozing off again when I heard a whisper in the dark say, “I refused to leave.”

S
itting up, I rubbed my tired eyes. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon and the room was still blanketed in darkness. Sophie was sleeping on the couch, and I was grateful she’d found rest, unlike me. I had stayed awake the better part of the night, worrying about her, checking on her, making sure she was okay. I needed to be awake in case she needed me.

“Charlie,” someone said quietly. I shifted in the direction of the voice. “Come outside with me, son. We need to talk.”

I got up, careful not to disturb Sophie, folded my blanket, and walked onto the front porch with Mr. McCormick, gently shutting the door behind me. He held out a cup of coffee for me, which I graciously accepted. “Thank you.” I took a much-anticipated sip while he gestured for me to take a seat next to him.

“Sophie hasn’t told you much about her childhood has she?”

“No, sir. She hasn’t told me anything about it actually.”

He leaned forward, elbows on knees, his coffee cup secure in both hands. “We adopted Sophie, Virginia and me. She was seven when Andrew brought her here, no advance notice of any sort, just…showed up.”

I leaned forward too. “Andrew?”

“Her father,” he said. “Andrew was married to Virginia’s sister, MaryAnn. About a year after they were married, they had Sophie, and a year after that, MaryAnn got sick and died. It was sudden. Andrew started drinking heavily and then one day he took off, left town, Sophie in tow. We tried looking for them but he never stayed in one place long enough. Until the night he showed up on our doorstep. We hadn’t seen them in years. Sophie didn’t even know who we were.”

“Wait, so he just left her here?”

“Yes.”

“Did he ever come back?”

Mr. McCormick hung his head. “No. Every year on her birthday he sent a postcard from wherever he was with promises he’d come back for her as soon as he settled down somewhere. He never did. The last postcard she received from Andrew was on her tenth birthday.” After a brief pause he said, “That year we decided to adopt Sophie, make her our daughter in every sense of the word. We took all the legal means to find him, everything our lawyer said we had to do, we did. Several months later, she was legally ours. So by all intents and purposes, she is
my
daughter. And if Andrew ever shows back up again, so help me, God…”

I leaned back in my chair and let it all soak in, no longer interested in the coffee in my hand, I set it aside. When I couldn’t sit still any longer, I stood and paced the length of the porch. Things that Sophie had said, things that I didn’t really think about at the time, came back to me, and they took on an entirely different meaning.

I have no intentions of falling in love with anyone.

You seem a bit too perfect Mr. Hudson. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I can’t do this with you. I have dreams you know. And they don’t involve me sitting around waiting and worrying all the time.

And then when Elizabeth tried to warn me, it suddenly made a lot more sense.

As easy-going as Sophie appears to be, she guards herself. She won’t make this easy for you. So keep that in mind when she pushes, and she will. You may need to do some pushing of your own.

I sat back down with a thud and placed my head in my hands. “Christ,” I murmured. “She has abandonment issues.”

Mr. McCormick eased out of his chair and put his hand on my shoulder. “Yes, Charlie, she does.”

I looked up at him, beseeching him to help me figure out how to handle it. He shook his head, knowing I was imploring him for answers. “I think you’re on the right track, son. Keep doing what you’re doing. I just wanted you to understand where she was coming from is all.”

“Thank you,” I said, my voice cracking. “I’m glad you told me.” I stood, shook his hand and thanked him once more. I didn’t know what I was going to do or what I was going to say, but I knew I would never abandon her. I would love her ‘til my dying day.

Now, I just needed to convince her of that.

I
awoke with a start and immediately sat up. The first thing I noticed was Charlie’s absence. His blanket and pillow were neatly placed on one of the chairs. At first I smiled, remembering how he had stayed with me, until that feeling gave way and I felt bereft.

I walked down the hallway to the bathroom. In the mirror, my red, puffy eyes were a clear reminder of the night I’d had. Turning on the faucet, I washed my face and scrubbed as though I were washing away years of hurt and layers of pain. If only it was that simple. I regretted how Charlie had seen me unravel and I wished that I could undo it all and start yesterday over. What must he think of me?

When I stepped out of the bathroom Charlie was standing outside the door and I let out a surprised squeal. “Jesus, Charlie, you scared me.” I placed my hand over my rapidly beating heart. “I thought you left.”

He tilted his head, concern written on his face. “I was on the porch. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said unconvincingly.

He stepped closer. “You had me worried.”

The house was quiet. The only sound was the ticking clock in the hallway. I repeated softly, “I’m fine. I’m…okay.”

He held out his arms. “May I?”

His coffee-colored eyes were fixed on mine, quiet and sober. Longing and desire clung to the edges, sadness filled in the rest.

My chest began to burn, spreading up and out like a wildfire set on destruction until my eyes also started to burn. I stepped into his waiting arms, not sure who needed a hug more, him or me.

I breathed him in. His clothes, skin, hair…everything that made him
Charlie
, and I felt more grounded, more secure than I ever had. My arms found his waist and I held onto him like I might float away otherwise.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“For what?” he whispered back.

“I’m…I don’t know what came over me. I’m so embarrassed.”

He only held me tighter while the clock kept the time.

Tick

Tick

Tick

Maybe no words needed to be said. Maybe it was enough that he held me when I needed his strength. And maybe it was enough that I held him when he needed someone to hold.

We stayed like that, clutched in each other’s arms until his warmth became my warmth.

I lifted my head, peered into his eyes, and when he blinked again the sadness in them flitted away and hope took its place.

“Sophie,” he said, bringing his hand up to touch my cheek. His forehead pressed against mine and his breath wisped across my lips. “Do you wanna talk about it?”