Christmas Catch, page 13
“Well, she is.” Chris rubbed his belly. “I’m just growing a gut.”
“That’s fantastic! Congratulations.” Jack gripped Chris in a big hug and finished it off with a hard smack on the back. “That’s amazing.” He walked around the table and hugged Pamela. “That explains a lot.”
“You stop it,” Pamela said, half laughing and half crying.
Charlee stood, looking at Pamela and Chris, back and forth until she seemed to decide on an action. She raised her wineglass. “Congratulations to the both of you. I knew I should’ve bought the sparkling cider.”
Chris stood at his place at the table and lifted his glass. The three of them stared at Jack. He caught his foolish grin in the glass of the cherry china cabinet before seeing the gesture. “Oh.” He raised his glass. “Congratulations.” He clinked his glass with Pamela’s water and Chris’s wine. He moved to Charlee without thinking and raised his glass.
Her face was radiant. “Cheers.”
The voice snapped Jack out of the euphoria. He wiped the grin off his face and hurriedly obliged with a clink. He wanted to sip but took the equivalent of a gulp. He wasn’t supposed to be friendly with her and all her windswept locks and pretty blue eyes. Charlee didn’t know Chris and Pamela’s history, their trying and failing, their tears and despair. How could she fully grasp how amazing this moment was? She was present for a wonderful moment in their life story, but she wasn’t part of it.
“Now let’s eat!” Chris clapped his hands and sat down next to Pamela, the rest of the room taking his lead.
“Or at least try,” Pamela said.
“Oh no,” Charlee said. “Have you been sick?”
“Off and on. Don’t worry about me. Enjoy.”
“It looks and smells wonderful,” Charlee said.
“It is wonderful,” Chris said, with a forkful in his mouth.
Jack kicked Chris’s leg underneath the table. “Where are your manners, man?” Even if he felt uncomfortable, there was still protocol. Jenny was insistent on such things. Manners, politeness. Not that he hadn’t had manners in the first place. But she had refined them. Taught him how to pour and sip wine, pull out chairs, wait for everyone to receive their meals—all the things he had known in theory but hadn’t practiced in reality. Everything she did had made him a better person, whether she knew it or not.
Charlee laughed. “It’s okay. I can appreciate someone who digs right in. That goes for life in general.”
Jack didn’t think he’d agree, but in a way the words were refreshing. Digging into life without cares or consequences. Could anything be more frightening? Or exciting? His pulse raced but he didn’t want to let go of the feeling.
Charlee stood. “Should I bring the mariner’s bread over?”
“No!” Chris stopped eating.
“Silly me,” Pamela said. “I must’ve left it in the kitchen. Pregnancy brain.”
“What she’s trying to say, Charlee,” Chris said, “is that—”
“It’s terrible,” Jack said. “No offense. I wouldn’t expect you to know.” Even to him it sounded harsh. “I meant that it’s about the only bread we can keep at sea for a long time.”
“It serves its purpose,” Chris said. “But when we’re not on the boat, we’d rather eat—”
“Cardboard?” Charlee said.
Jack nearly choked and froze along with Chris and Pamela.
“Because I think my shoebox would taste better than that loaf of drywall.” Charlee giggled, the amusement rolling into a full laugh. Pamela joined her, followed by Chris. “I tried it,” Charlee said through her laughter. “I’d be more worried if you did like it. Just save that one for the next trip. Can’t imagine it’d be any worse.”
“You’d be surprised,” Chris said.
Charlee’s eyes were tearing. Her cheeks grew flush, rosy like her hair and fiery like her sheer abandon with life.
Jack caught himself chuckling along with them.
“So,” Pamela said. “Besides the mariner’s brick, I mean bread, any other big differences you’ve had to handle coming all the way from Atlanta to our small town? Must be hard to adjust to in a short time.”
“It’s not too bad,” she said.
“I wouldn’t describe Cape Sunset as ‘bad’ on its worst day,” Jack said. Although lately, a certain someone’s presence was making for uncomfortable moments with the townsfolk. And now. Sitting beside her was like sitting next to a heat lamp, drawn to her yet aware it would hurt if he got too close. A soft hint of lilac wafted through the air every time she moved, her arms and hands quick yet graceful with her gestures. He sat there, compelled to scoot his chair an inch or forty away, frightened she just might graze him again and weaken his resolve.
“Which is why I put the ‘not’ in there,” Charlee quipped. “Atlanta is hot and busy, which can be great, but I don’t actually stay there very long.”
“Where do you stay?” Pamela shuffled her green beans with her fork but had yet to eat a bite.
“I travel a lot for my job. I do appearances at events and interview people for their advice or personal experiences. In all honesty, I don’t really have to go much of anywhere for a show. I guess I like the variety and excitement of new places and people.”
She paused and sipped her drink. Was it sadness he saw in her eyes?
But why?
“That’s the beauty of podcasts,” she continued. “I just need a computer and microphone. Heck, a cell phone works. I could do one right here at this table. Record what we’re talking about and send it to my Production Editor Vanessa. She’d cut out the ‘ums’ and improve the audio, add some background music maybe and a catchy intro. Then we’d have Pamela’s Fish Dinner podcast.”
“Please don’t,” Pamela said. “I’d be so embarrassed.”
“No worries,” Charlee said. “But you’d have nothing to be embarrassed about. You have a lovely home, in a lovely town with wonderful people.”
Jack sat back. Her words felt honest.
“And I must say this is the best filet of fish I think I’ve ever had.”
“You have the guys to thank for that,” Pamela said.
“True,” Chris said. “We didn’t cook it, though. This came from our last catch.”
“Really?” Charlee looked at Jack, yet he didn’t return the gaze. Even her eyes carried heat, warming his face when she aimed them his way. Her presence was irritating, yet he felt compelled to impress her. To win her over in some way. And the sensation her compliment brought about was something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Pride.
Jack stopped staring at his plate to find Chris’s widening eyes prodding at him. “Oh, yes,” Jack said. “Really.”
“Is it halibut? I’m not too familiar with my fishes. Or is it fish? Or fishi?”
“I believe it’s fisheaux,” Chris said. Pamela broke into her belly laugh, and the other three followed suit.
Jack took a gulp from his wine. The sharp, bitter taste dried his whole mouth rather than washing down the food. Jenny’s favorite, red wine. “You’re gonna stain your teeth,” he’d tell her.
“What?” Chris said. They all stared at Jack. “Something about teeth?”
“Never mind. Talking to myself.” Were thoughts of Jenny so intense that he was saying his memories out loud? Maybe Mom and Denny were right and that it was time to move on. If not for emotional health, at least for preventing social embarrassment.
“Halibut is a good guess for this region. But this fine specimen here,” Jack said, “is Pacific Dover sole. It’s hit or miss to get just the right kind—no bruising, nice and soft. They’re hard to handle when you catch them. They excrete a heavy mucus that’ll slide them right back to freedom. They’ll look at you with their two eyes—both on the same side, mind you—like they’re judging you. Challenging you to keep a grip.”
Charlee sat with mouth parted.
Chris stared him down, his blinking the only visible movement. “That was...interesting. Thank you for that, Jack. I especially liked the part about the mucus. Great to hear that word when we eat.”
Pamela put her hand on Chris’s shoulder, the other covering her mouth. “Don’t say it again.”
Chris broke into laughter and Pamela shook her head.
Charlee laughed and tapped Jack on the shoulder, sizzling the skin underneath his shirt. “Give him a break,” she said. “He’s passionate, that’s all. Now I know what Pacific Dover sole tastes like.”
“You won’t get it like this in any restaurant,” Jack said.
“I’m sure you’re right.” Charlee beamed.
There was that confusion again. He expected her to contradict him, and when she didn’t his confidence soared. He wanted more of those moments.
“And I would’ve never known about the mucus.”
“Ha!” Chris slapped the table. “It doesn’t sell it, does it?”
“I’m sorry. I can’t—” Pamela ran out of the room.
“Oh no.” Charlee looked at Chris. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “She’s worst in the evening, but she would never tell you that. That’s why we had this so early.”
Pamela’s empty chair gave room to a wave of silence, minus the forks hitting plates.
Jack struggled to find something to talk about. He glanced at Chris every few bites, pleading for him to break the quiet. Why did it have to be him? Charlee was Cheery Charlee, after all. Wasn’t she supposed to be good at these things? She made a living talking for goodness’ sake. Heck, Jenny had basically asked him out that summer. Not that he wanted Charlee to ask him out. If there was going to be any asking, it would be his doing this time around. Or whenever the time was right. With whoever was right. Suddenly even his unbuttoned flannel collar was too tight around his neck.
“I couldn’t imagine doing what you two do,” she said. “Being out on the water for days, weeks at a time.”
“I suppose you can’t,” Jack said, “being away from all the frivolities of city life.”
There it was. She finally broke the silence and all he could do was slap her with an insult.
“I’ll have you know, Jack, I used to wake up before sunrise on the weekends to go hunting with my dad. We’d spend hours out there, in stillness, becoming a part of the scenery.”
Chris raised his eyebrows. “What did you hunt?”
“Used to?” Jack’s filter officially malfunctioned. “It became too icky and gross for you outside? Want to spend your weekend mornings sleeping in?”
Charlee’s body froze. She stared at her plate. “No.”
“Jack,” Chris said with a clenched jaw.
“It’s okay, Chris. As a matter of fact, Jack, no, it didn’t get too icky and gross. I stopped hunting with my dad because, on my tenth birthday, he walked out on us. Sped away, actually. His sedan was pretty fast. Too fast for me to catch up running after him, despite my mom’s efforts to stop me.”
Jack’s heart dipped in his chest. Losing his dad as an adult had been hard enough. But to have a father walk out as a kid? The Pacific Dover suddenly didn’t sit well.
“Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to excuse myself.” Charlee walked out of the dining room just as Pamela returned.
“Charlee, wait.” Jack rose from his chair. Another argument, and he for sure had started this one. Maybe he had started the others. If anything, this dinner showed him his filter was nonexistent around her. Was he like that with others?
“What happened?” Pamela folded her arms and stared at Chris.
“Don’t look at me,” he said. “This one’s on Jack.”
Jack caught Charlee en route to the front door and stopped her in the kitchen. “Look, I’m sorry. Don’t leave because of me. I’ll go if you want to stay.”
“You don’t get it!” She threw her arms in the air. “You acted all offended today. That I don’t know you and couldn’t possibly have a chance to. You don’t know me at all. Every time I see you, you either insult me or insult my work. I haven’t done anything to deserve this. I am generally a positive person. I am Cheery Charlee because I enjoy bringing happiness and positivity to people who have received a plate of crap on their laps. Because sometimes that’s what happens in life. And you—” she pointed her finger “—are the crap plate delivery boy. Or man. Or whatever.” She threw her hands up.
“Charlee, I’m sorry. You’re right. I don’t know you. I didn’t know about your dad. I—” The words jumbled in his head. He knew next to nothing about her, but the poor woman had been abandoned by her father as a child. It was too painful to know.
“We were eating, getting along,” he continued. “And—I don’t know what happened. Things just spew out of my mouth sometimes. I’m sorry. It was over the line and completely my fault. Is there something I can do to make it up to you?”
She folded her arms over her chest. Her eyebrows curled down above the bridge of her cute nose. Even in anger she was gorgeous. “How about you stand next to the Cheer Box tomorrow and get people to submit their memories?”
He wanted to right this wrong, but Christmas...it was too hard. “Eh—”
“In a Santa suit.” She stood high and mighty, regardless of her petite frame, waiting for the answer.
“I can’t do that,” he said somberly. He couldn’t even consider it, not even in jest. She couldn’t possibly understand what she was asking him to do. Jenny had been in an adorable elf costume in the parade for goodness’ sake. That was the last time he’d held her in his arms, in the middle of Ballard Street.
“Then we’re done here.”
“Wait.”
There had to be something he could do. Something he could say to make it better, so that she could truly understand him and they could clear up all of this hostility. She was going to leave town soon. He needed to talk to her, but not here. Somewhere private and calm. Somewhere they couldn’t walk out on one another.
“How about I take you out on the boat tonight?” It was the first place he thought of that fit the criteria. “And you can learn a little more about where I’m coming from? Why I can—” he sighed “—be a fool sometimes.”
Charlee stared at the floor.
Pamela clapped behind them. “You know what? I think that’s a great idea.”
“Terrible idea,” Chris said. Pamela slapped his arm. “What? You know he’s going to want to use my boat.”
“Tonight?” Charlee asked.
“Yeah. If we hurry we’d catch the sunset. Come on, Charlee.” Jack begged without really understanding why. Something was there between them, drawing him to her. He let the emotion exist and went with it.
“How do I know you won’t spew out more insulting words?”
“You don’t,” he blurted. “I meant, I can’t guarantee that because I don’t know. I don’t know what happens to my common sense when I’m around you.” His ears were on fire. “But I promise I’ll try. Really hard.”
She unfolded her arms, hands on her hips. “Okay.”
“Okay?” He had expected more of a fight. Her agreement fluttered his heart and sucked the air out of his lungs.
“Yeah. Okay. Or were you secretly hoping I’d say no?”
“No. No, of course not! Come on. Let’s go before we miss it.” He turned back to Chris and Pamela. “Sorry. It was great. Thanks for—”
“Just go.” Pamela handed over the boat key off the wall hanger and shooed him away. Chris made a half attempt to reach for the key and Pamela stopped him.
“Thanks to you both,” Charlee said. “So nice to finally meet you, Pamela.”
“Likewise,” Pamela said. “Come by anytime.”
“Not any time,” Chris said.
Jack gestured for Charlee to exit first and followed her out. He shut the door and for the first time, he was alone with Cheery Charlee.
Chapter Fourteen
The dinner was not her fault. She hadn’t known Chris and Pamela invited Jack. There was no way for her to have known, and therefore she’d needed to stomach it and put a smile on her face. Admittedly there were times when she had smiled without mindful convincing. If she were truly honest with herself, there were parts that were downright...enjoyable. Jack had softened enough that she touched him at the table without a second thought, the fabric of his shirt sending fire through her fingers.
But as soon as she had let her guard down, Jack went for the strike. She was determined not to let it happen again.
Yet here she was, stepping foot onto Able Annie, a sleek wooden recreational boat with a deck. Except for the lower cabin space, it was exposed to open air. The decision had been completely in her control. She could’ve said no. Should’ve said no. Instead she was smiling, accepting Jack’s helping hand.
“Thank you,” she said. “I don’t have much experience on boats.”
“Do you get sick?”
“I don’t really know.” She grabbed on to the nearest piece of metal to catch herself.
“It’s actually better on a smaller boat like this than on Forrester.”
“Is that your fishing vessel? Forrester?”
“Yeah. Much larger and clunkier. If a boat can be clunky. Able Annie is Chris’s personal boat.”
“He’s okay letting you borrow it? He seemed a little annoyed.”
“Forrester is mine, and technically I don’t have to include Chris on my crew. But he’s my brother. Don’t get me wrong—he’s a competent sailor. It’s just an unspoken deal. He gets first opportunity on my crew. I get to borrow Able Annie.”
“As long as I’m not implicated in this,” she said.
“Nah. And just in case you have a tendency to get sick, it’s a good thing I snagged the rest of that wine. Helps with sea sickness.” He pulled the recorked bottle out of his vest.
