Misplaced Innocence (6 page)

“I was knocking, didn’t you hear me? I thought maybe something had happened,” he shrugged again, “and you wouldn’t
mind
if I picked your lock and – ”
 

Charisma’s heart made another fruitless leap. She had watched him pick the lock. It had taken, what seemed like hours, but even Charisma was willing to bet had been a matter of minutes, and a few jiggles and the door had just swung open and let in a stranger.

She must have gone white, because Jared was suddenly giving her a strange look, and muttering underneath his breath about how he had been the one bashed in the head and if anyone deserved to pass out it would be him. “I need a new lock,” she said, and even though the words were every day words that didn’t seem capable of being scary or threatening, there was something in the way she said it that almost made Jared forget she’d beamed him over the head with cooking ware. He was offering to replace the lock before he even realized it. Before he’d even stopped seeing double, really. The color crept back into her face, and it didn’t seem as though she were going to pass out at any second. As far as Jared was concerned, offering to replace the lock seemed a small price to pay.

Charisma nodded, numbly. She didn’t even realize she was nodding until there was a sharp pain in the back of her neck. “I was going to go out to get groceries tomorrow. Once it wasn’t dark out.” She was still so scattered she couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out, even though she knew she shouldn’t. Charisma had the distinct impression, from the look Jared gave her, that had she not proved herself so dangerous when holding a heavy object, he would have had some choice words to say about her sanity.

Jared groped again at his head and Charisma suddenly realized she’d hit him over the head and then just kind of stood there, watching him. She hadn’t even moved from the spot by the door. Her body suddenly seemed to kick into gear and she hurried across the kitchen, dropping the pot back in the sink. “Here,” she said, reaching into the freezer. “You should sit down. Maybe this will help.” She retrieved an icepack from the freezer, one that her mother had always said she should have in case there was an accident. Mostly, it just stayed cold in the freezer and never traveled out into the warmth of the house. Charisma had the sudden urge to call her mother and tell her she had finally needed the icepack, just like she had always said she would. She shook off the thought almost as soon as it settled in the fog she was calling her brain. She hadn’t spoken to her mother in years, and she hardly thought the sudden need of an icepack was a valid reason to reinitiate a relationship with her.

Charisma hurried over to Jared, taking the arm that wasn’t holding his head, and guided him to the overstuffed sofa. When he was seated she handed him the ice while Scruffy hopped up on the furniture next to him, content to watch everything as it unfolded. Charisma had the sneaking suspicion that her life was the doggy equivalent of a soap opera, but didn’t really feel like it was the time to share that with her invader-turned-guest. “Tea?” she asked, “water?”

“No, no, nothing. I’m fine.” But even as he said the words he sank back further in the couch and leaned his head back. She watched him as, for a moment, he seemed to fight the urge to close his eyes, and then succumbed.

Charisma took advantage of his closed eyes to hurry across the room and lock the front door.

Unfortunately, Jared’s eyes didn’t stay closed as she had anticipated and by the time she returned to the easy chair his eyes were open and he was watching her. She pulled her shoulders back. What did she care what he thought about that. She could lock her own damn door if she wanted to. And she did. So she did. Charisma realized she was trying to rationalize her own behavior to herself, and quickly turned back to Jared.

“I’m sorry about the pot,” she finally said. “I was in the other room. I didn’t see you pull up, I didn’t hear you knocking.” She abandoned the idea of explaining herself any further. That was pretty much as good as it got.

He grunted in answer, but considering, Charisma felt that was actually a positive response. “How’s your head?”

“What? I look like a doctor? It frigging hurts.”

Charisma winced. “You look a little like a doctor. Must be the vet thing.”
 

It took him a minute to see she was teasing, and despite the growing bump, he smiled back. The ice was cool against the tender area, but he was a long way from feeling fine. “Let me get you some Advil?” she said, moving towards the cabinet.
 

While Jared sat on the sofa and tried to ease the swelling of his head, Charisma started collecting the groceries that had spilled on the kitchen floor and had since been forgotten. She stretched out on the floor looking, she imagined, like some sort of beached starfish, while she fished for the orange that Scruffy had let roll beneath the sofa. She finally felt her hand close firmly around it, and withdrew the fruit from its hiding space, quickly wiping it for any tell-tale signs of the dust bunnies she hadn’t collected in her recent cleaning efforts.

She busied herself in the kitchen, trying not to stare at Jared as he sat back on the sofa, his hair damp from the ice, or at least Charisma fervently hoped it was only from the ice, and a grimace still etched quite prominently on his face. When she could no longer pretend like she was actually doing anything useful in the kitchen she returned to perch on the edge of the matching arm chair.

“It’s getting late,” she said in hopes of starting a conversation. But as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. She might as well have said, ‘Hey you, don’t you think you’ve bothered me enough for the night? Can’t you see I need my beauty sleep here?’

Jared grunted, but didn’t so much as consult a watch. Of course, Charisma was pretty impressed he was awake and his eyes were periodically opening, so she wasn’t going to complain. “I’ll get going in a few minutes,” he finally said.

“I didn’t mean that.” She said lamely.
 

Charisma was about to offer him a ride back to town, but the thought of leaving the house, really for any amount of time, but especially now that darkness had fully enveloped everything, and of course the fact that the lock she had once thought was more than enough protection for her was suddenly useless, convinced her not to open her mouth. “Are you sure you’re okay. I’m really sorry about the pot.”

He grunted again, as way of answer.

“Are you sure you should be driving?” She wanted to add that she wasn’t sure it would be that great of an idea for him to be behind the wheel, since he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes open for more than a few minutes at a time.
 

“I’ll just wait for the throbbing to stop and I’ll be fine.”

Charisma pursed her lips. “I would feel really terrible if something happened to you.”

He opened one eye, and even through the grimace Charisma was pretty sure she saw a sheen of disbelief.

“Something else, I mean. If something else happened to you because I hit you with the pot I would feel even worse than I already do.” There was a substantial pause before Charisma continued. Apparently, Jared didn’t feel the need to subdue any of her lingering guilt. “I don’t really have a guest bedroom,” which was true. She had taken one of the extra bedrooms and turned it into studio space, and the other room, which was all the way on the opposite side of the house was still full of boxes she hadn’t unpacked yet. Those boxes full of things she swore she would never be able to live without and still were stacked high and firmly taped six months after she had settled into the new house. “But, you’re more than welcome to stay here tonight. The sofa pulls out.” He didn’t say anything, but Charisma took that as a yes. “I’ll just go get some sheets and blankets. I’ll be right back.”

She hurried down the hall, for the first time since she’d gotten the empty envelope, comfortable with moving from room to room, secure in the fact that there was another living, breathing person, sitting just a few yards away and, Charisma was quite sure, regardless of what sort of headache he had, would come running if anything happened. She was sure Jared would stay the night, even if the pull out mattress was lumpy and saggy and possibly the single most uncomfortable place to stay the night in town. Or so she’d been told, since she’d never actually had to sleep on the sofa herself. Anyway, she suspected he really didn’t want to be driving right now, and the only thing that kept him from saying so was the indomitable male ego.

She came back to the living room with an armful of clean sheets and a heavy comforter, although by morning when the sun came out and chased away the coolness of night she was sure it would find its way to the foot of the mattress or on the floor. That’s where her comforter always wound up, anyway. When she dropped the bedding on the floor by the chair Jared pulled himself to his feet and made a valiant effort to help her pull out the mattress. Clearly, he was not above crashing on the sofa for the night, even if he wasn’t going to admit it was a good idea.

It took only a few minutes to turn the overstuffed sofa into a space that was at least comfortable looking, if not actually comfortable. Scruffy looked unimpressed with the new structure, and more than a little irritated by the fact that she had needed to give up her spot on the sofa.

Charisma stifled a yawn, and saw Jared do the same. “You should get some sleep. Let me get you some pain killer. The TV’s right there.” She tossed the remote in Jared’s direction, where it bounced on the sofa’s too-soft mattress out of his reach. “Feel free to watch it if you’re interested.” Charisma suddenly felt more tired than she could ever remember feeling. A mixture of uneasiness and relief swept over her and left her feeling only exhausted. She retrieved the drugs from the cupboard and brought Jared a fresh glass of water.

“I’m right down the hall,” she said, more for her own benefit than for his, and gestured in the general direction of the hallway.

“I remember,” he said.

“Right. Then you know where the bathroom is. Let me know if you need anything.” Scruffy trotted along behind her, but even with Jared in the room and Scruffy’s nose pressed up against her, Charisma couldn’t resist stopping at the door to check one more time on the lock.

She turned the lights off in the hall, stopping to make sure the bathroom light was on, hoping Jared would leave it on, and disappeared into her bedroom. Scruffy settled herself happily into her favorite space on the bed while Charisma slipped into an old pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. She was climbing into bed when she remembered the pot on the kitchen counter and the empty space on her bedside table. Well, really, the space that could be made empty by moving the stack of books and scattered pens onto the floor. But, she quickly dismissed the idea. The last thing she needed was to accidentally hit someone else on the head, and the way her luck seemed to be going, that would almost certainly be in the cards. Instead she opened the door to her bedroom, light from the bathroom spilling in a bright sliver, and crawled beneath the sheets.

It occurred to Charisma, as she slipped into sleep, that with Jared milling around in the bathroom and the kitchen, this was the safest she had felt in the house, and wondered, briefly, if maybe instead of moving across the country, she should have really moved in with a roommate.
 

Jared woke with a headache that put any hangover he ever had to shame. And he’d had his fair share of hangovers. He gingerly touched the swollen mass behind his head. If he ever let Bill talk him into doing anything again, it would be too soon. In fact, had Jared not practically grown up a member of the Ross family, and felt the same heavy obligation towards Bill that a son feels toward his aging parents, he (and the lump on his head) would vow never to speak to Bill again.
 

Since that wasn’t an option, he was just going to have to suck it up and deal with the fact that Bill repeatedly and frequently put Jared in positions he didn’t want to be in and usually came to regret not long after. He pushed the remaining sheets off of himself and swung his legs over the edge of the mattress, regretting the quick action almost immediately when his head began to throb anew, and with what seemed like novel urgency.

Jared tried to shake the stiffness from his body as he moved to the kitchen, plucking the Advil Charisma had procured the night before off the side table. The sofa certainly left a lot to be desired as a bed. If he hadn’t been so utterly sure that he would have needed to pull over on the side of the road and sleep in the backseat of his car, he would never have stayed the night. Of course, Jared wasn’t entirely sure this Charisma was working with a full set, and wondered if it was the best idea to leave her alone – ever. How many people hid behind doors with pots in their hands and just swung helter-skelter? If Bill weren’t so fond of her, Jared would have never come all the way out to her place, in the dark, with a bag full of groceries, just to be cracked on the head with a pot. A pot, of all things. He didn’t even warrant something like a frying pan. At the very least, a casserole dish. But no, Charisma had wielded the small pot like a ten-pound hammer, and spared his poor head no expense. If a carnival ever came to town, he would bet Charisma could win more heavy-object-swinging games than any of the men in town. Of course, Jared allowed, that really wasn’t saying much, considering exactly what men Carlton had to offer.

Jared knew he could have avoided everything about this entire experience if he had just stayed away from Carlton like his gut had told him to. But no, one little thing went wrong in Jared’s next-to-perfect life and the next thing he knew everything had fallen apart and he was running back home like a dog with its tail between its legs and, horror of all horrors, had to move back into the family house. If the years separating him from that house and this town had done anything to repair the years of trauma Carlton had caused him, the few weeks he’d been back in town had completely undone it. Not a promising thought.

Jared found a glass, not really an impressive fact, considering there was nothing in the cabinets. Not even a box of spaghetti, and the empty cans of soup and pineapples rinsed and drying on the counter had the suspicious look of dinner from the night before. Either Charisma was certifiable, or he was. At this rate he wouldn’t consider it impossible that they both needed to be put away. That, actually, seemed like the best plan he’d had in a while. Right ahead of not following Mary Anne up those stairs.