All I Want (A Farmers' Market Story) (25 page)

“I thought fighting drove her away, and then I was convinced letting her be was what kept her away, and in the end you know what the real problem was?”

“Life blows?”

Elsie smiled indulgently. “Part that. And part that none of us...said it. That we loved each other, that we needed something from each other. I tried tough love and unconditional love and no love at all. I tried everything. Except the truth.”

“I demanded he give me the truth, to be the man I know he is. He wouldn’t.”

“So you’re giving up, then?”

“He has to come to the realization on his own. He has to realize he has to tell me on his own. I can’t make him.”

“No, but you can let him know you’re here. You can, I think if you really love him, you can give him a few times where you stand up in the face of him being a
man
—translation, idiot—and tell him you’re here. You’re here when he’s ready.”

“I don’t want to be a doormat.”

“Do you love him?”

“Yes, but—”

“Do you believe he loves you?”

“I do, but—”

“Will he make a good father to your child? A good partner in your life? Because if the answer is yes to those too, you aren’t being a doormat for fighting. You’re being the strong, amazing, caring woman I know you to be at your heart. I know that’s you, Meg. Once you stop doubting those voices in your head telling you you’ve done it all wrong, you’ll look around and you’ll see all you’ve built, and you’ll fight for more. Because that’s what women do.”

“What are you doing to fight, Elsie?” She said it gently, because Elsie was right. Every last word was a firework of epiphany and right. But she wasn’t the only strong woman who needed to fight sitting in this kitchen.

“I just kicked cancer’s ass. Isn’t that enough?”

“It’d be easier if you believed that, but we both know you don’t. Hannah’s the thing you turn over and over in your mind. Then you need to fight too. For her. For you. And any way I can help, anything you need—you tell me. I’ve been there. I can help.”

Elsie reached her other hand across the table, and they held on to each other, both a little teary and neither willing to admit it enough for a tear to fall over. “Believe it or not, I’ve stood where you stood and had to knock a good man over the head to see his future was with me. So I’ve been there. I can help.”

Meg swallowed and nodded because she didn’t trust her voice. Nodded because she thought she would really need that help.

But she’d always been a fighter. It was time she believed it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

C
HARLIE
MADE
HIS
WAY
toward Jeffrey Carmichael in a dimly lit restaurant. He wondered if this was what people in those shark cages felt like being lowered into the water. Surely he was safe, because he was in control of his own life and Jeffrey wasn’t going to
eat
him.

But he was still a shark.

“There you are, son,” Jeffrey greeted genially enough. He held out a hand and Charlie shook it warily.

The strangest thing happened. He got a flash from that scene in
It’s a Wonderful Life
where George shook Mr. Potter’s hand and came to his senses...

Which was crazy, because Charlie’s life wasn’t a black-and-white Christmas movie. Charlie’s life didn’t have guardian angels and finding out what would have happened if he’d never been born. Because he lived in
reality
.

Reality.

So, why did he feel so shaken?

He ignored it. Ignored the clammy feeling in his hand. He was just tired, and drained from the stress of a job interview. He’d let Jeffrey say what he had to say, then go home and get a good night’s sleep.

Where is home?

“I’m glad you agreed to speak with me alone.”

“Well, you upset Meg.”

And so did you, way to go.

He shook that thought away. He’d fix it. Fix it like he always fixed things...

Except he couldn’t think of a single
personal
relationship he’d ever fixed. Everything that had healed between him and Dell had been done pretty much because Dell had been the one to bend.

All the other meaningful relationships in his past had been terminated. The thought of anything with Meg
ending
left Charlie feeling even more off-kilter. Sick, down to his soul.

“Yes, well, Meg has done a lot of upsetting us over the years.” The corners of Jeffrey’s mouth went a little sharp, but it didn’t stop him from
smiling
. “Which is why I’m glad you agreed to talk with me. My wife and I are sincerely worried about the welfare of our grandchild.”

Charlie laughed. He couldn’t help it. “Why on earth would you be worried about that?”

“Addiction is an ongoing thing. If Meg’s told you differently, it’s a lie. My wife and I, we did all sorts of studying up on it. Every book, every therapist, everyone says the same thing. There’s no cure.”

“She didn’t need to be
cured
, she needed parents who loved and supported her.” And those words, said so easily, made Charlie even more shamed that he’d thrown that possibility of her failing and going back in her face.

He’d deserved her slapping him. He deserved worse, quite honestly, and she deserved better than him. Better than practicality and realism. So much better than all he could offer.

Wasn’t that what it always boiled down to?

“Meg is an addict,” Jeffrey said as though Charlie just didn’t understand. “Drugs. Alcohol. You name it. She spent numerous months of her life in rehab facility after rehab facility. She was—and possibly
is
—a compulsive liar, a thief, a—”

“Enough,” he growled. There must have been enough rage in his tone—a rage Mr. Carmichael must not have been used to, because he snapped back in surprise, jaw shutting with an audible click.

“That is enough,” Charlie repeated, slowly, carefully. Because if he wasn’t careful, he thought he might fly over the table, and then he wasn’t even sure what he would do. Only that it would likely get him arrested. “I did not come here to listen to you disparage the mother of my child.”

“Then why did you come here, Charlie?”

Funny that it would take Jeffrey Carmichael asking him that question to get him to realize how
stupid
this was. How pointless. He wasn’t ever going to hurt Meg by using this man’s connections or influence—not for Seedling, not for “stability.”

He couldn’t betray her
that
way. He’d already betrayed her enough.

“I’m realizing it was quite the mistake.” Charlie stood. He wasn’t going to eat dinner with this man who thought his daughter—his vibrant, beautiful,
strong
daughter—was a mistake.

No, he wasn’t spending another minute here.

“We won’t rest, you know? That baby is a Carmichael. That means something in St. Louis, and it’s a chance for us to make up for all the embarrassment Meg caused us. That baby will be our recompense.”

Charlie felt physically ill. That a man could think of a child as
recompense
. A child who hadn’t even been
born
yet. He wanted to hurt him—physically, yes, but more than that, he knew he needed to end this. Here. Now. Before Jeffrey could touch Meg or Seedling any more than he already had.

And standing there in the middle of this fancy restaurant he’d entertained clients in more times than he could count, talking to a man he’d done business with indirectly, Charlie realized the answer didn’t exist in this world.

But it existed in his other world. The one that had never understood him, the one that had pitied him. That world suddenly gave him the exact thing he needed.

“I know what you did to Peterson’s,” Charlie said, realizing just how much damage that could do. The inherently underhanded ways Carmichael had crushed the tiny grocer in New Benton. It had happened when Charlie was in graduate school, and he’d heard about it only because he’d been high school buddies with the Petersons’ son.

Charlie had forgotten all about it, and while it certainly couldn’t threaten what Carmichael was as a successful store, it could hurt Jeffrey Carmichael’s reputation—the threats he’d personally leveled at the Petersons.

Charlie had the suspicion that Meg’s father cared
only
about his reputation, and that gave Charlie quite the leverage. Didn’t it?

“You’ll stay away from Meg, or I will wage a war against everything you are.”

Jeffrey didn’t flinch, didn’t pale, but there was a tightening around his mouth that spoke to at least a little concern over the threat. “You’re unemployed, Wainwright. A nobody. What could
you
possibly do to
me
?”

Charlie smiled, the same sharp smile Jeffrey had leveled in his direction in the beginning. “I sincerely hope you’ll find out.”

He left on that note, because his best bets were vague threats and a call to Casey Peterson before he started shooting off his mouth. But Charlie knew enough, and enough people, that he couldn’t destroy Jeffrey Carmichael, but he could make his life a little tricky. It would be enough to keep that man on his toes, and away from
his
family.

His family. Meg and Seedling. He stalked to his car, trying to make sense of the past twenty-four hours, the past week. Trying to make sense of
himself
. He had to go back to his parents’ and change and try to figure out what the next step was.

A plan. The right apology. The right words. He needed his head on straight, and he wasn’t anywhere near there.

He drove back to New Benton, half tempted to screw it all and just go to Meg—on his knees, just as she’d demanded. But she deserved better than an exhausted and half-cocked apology.

He drove up the dirt path, past Dell’s warmly lit cabin, up to the old farmhouse. It was late enough only his parents’ bedroom light was on. Charlie got out of the car wondering how everything had flipped in such a period of time, how he could have been so wrong and convinced he’d been so right.

He loosened his tie and collapsed onto the old rocking chair that had rocked on the planks of this porch for at least his entire lifetime. The sky, dark and vast, sparkled with stars. Every sound—the crickets, the occasional animal rustling, that rhythmic squeak of the chair as he set it rocking—the sound track to his childhood.

Rare that he’d listened to it. Rare that he’d ever sat still enough to
see
it. He’d always been so busy moving forward, striving for bigger and better. Following that plan. Ignoring every feeling, every beat of his heart, with the hope that if he could just
achieve
enough it would stop feeling like this.

Like he didn’t know who he was, or what he wanted. Like he didn’t fit anywhere. And this past month hadn’t felt like that, but...how easy it had been to be knocked back into that place of not belonging. Of not being sure of
anything
.

“Saw your car drive up,” Dell said, stepping onto the porch.

It was dark, so Charlie could only make out the vague outline of his brother in the faint glow of the houses and starlight.

His brother, who he’d
always
been envious of, because Dell had always,
always
known what he wanted. Who he was.

“Mia told me Cara let it slip about why we hired you.”

Charlie shrugged, looking away. “Not quite the crux of my issues right now.”

“Oh, trust me, I know the look of a man who has woman problems.”

“See it that much in the mirror you can tell just by a look, can you?” It was his default, that slap back. Charlie opened his mouth to apologize, but his words were all jumbled and confused.

Dell ambled up the porch, took a seat on the railing. “You know, about five years ago, I—”

“If you tell me the story of how you and Mia worked things out, I’m going to throw up. Right here on this porch.”

“Suit yourself. But your problem has always been, Charlie, that you refuse to see anyone else might have an answer for you. You’re so determined to find all the answers yourself.”

“Maybe that’s because no one sees me for who I really am. And suggestions to ‘unclench’ or not be such a hard-ass aren’t exactly helpful.”

“That isn’t us anymore. It hasn’t been for a while.”

Dell said it so quietly, so earnestly, Charlie couldn’t do anything with it except feel ashamed. No, things had changed. It probably wasn’t fair to act as though they hadn’t, but he was feeling so damn raw.

How much more could he give? How much more of his heart did he show people only to have it
hurt
? He knew how to fix things. Dwindling sales numbers and obstinate customers.

He didn’t know how to fix...hearts.

“You’re a pretty hard guy to read, Charlie. Did you know that?”

He might have heard that a time or two.

“It’s a little worth considering that while you’re sitting there assuming no one sees you for who you are, it’s because you’ve never
let
us. And, before you get pissy about
that
, consider we learned from the best on that score.” Dell nodded toward the house, which no doubt meant Dad. “I include myself in that.”

Because, yes, Dad was a good man, but he wasn’t exactly an easy one to read or understand. None of them ever had been—so busy protecting themselves and trying to get the upper hand. So busy trying to be better or righter.

It
had
changed the past few years. Having a kid had mellowed Dell, and in the presence of his kid, Charlie had mellowed and it had allowed for a kind of friendship. The past month of bonding over significant others growing babies and whatnot had developed into a kinship.

Based on pity.

“You could have all told me you were offering me jobs out of pity.”

“We could have, but you would have told us where to shove it, and then none of us would have realized how good you are at it. What good instincts you have when it comes to growing partnerships. I knew you were a good businessman, Charlie, but I didn’t know what that entailed. You impressed us all. So I’m not sure sulking like Lainey when it wasn’t for the reason you wanted it to be for is really all that sensible of you.”

“Did you come here to start a fistfight or...”

Dell chuckled. “If you want to take a few swings at me to make yourself feel better, feel free. Do you know the kind of female attention I’ll get for a good shiner?”

But Charlie didn’t move. Mostly because as irritating as Dell’s words were, Charlie still couldn’t muster anger. He didn’t have the energy or the foolishness running through his blood to want to move and punch his brother.

He wanted to brood. He wanted to drown in this feeling because drowning would be a hell of a lot better than all this hurt.

It made sense to him then, in a way that he hadn’t thought of before. That Meg had buried her parents’ awful treatment in drugs and alcohol, until it had poisoned
her
. It seemed everything about today was set up to make him feel terrible for throwing it all back in her face.

How did he fix that? He wouldn’t even blame her if she never forgave him, so how did he go over there and...hurt all over again?

Dell sat there, not saying anything. But Charlie supposed he’d said enough. He’d said the truth. And now he was going to sit it out.

Charlie was going to have to analyze that at some point. The fact that he’d run, but his brother wasn’t doing so.

“I don’t want to be a salesman anymore.” Charlie said it aloud. Carefully. Clearly. Truthfully. That world fit in its own way, but...he still didn’t want it. He didn’t want an office, or to be on the phone all day. He didn’t want to cleverly maneuver around people.

It had been hard to see because he was good at it, and because there were parts he enjoyed. He liked seeing what he could do with a fixed budget. He liked figuring out the best angle to take when it came to getting a customer the right item.

But so many parts he’d grown frustrated with, or allowed to permeate him, and he didn’t want that anymore.

He wanted to give more to his budding family than he did to a company that could get rid of him simply because they’d been bought out.

Maybe Dell and Kenzie and all the in-laws and what-have-yous thought he was
hard to read
, but he’d done nothing but give himself to Meg—over and over again, make sacrifices for his comfort to show pieces of himself, to offer love.

And then he’d stomped it all to hell in an immature blink.

“I’m going to reiterate what Mia and Cara have been trying to tell you. You were good at what you were doing for us. No, we can’t pay you what you made being a big-shot sales guy, but we don’t have to be your only clients. There are farmers’ markets all around, and, sure, some people are pretty darn good at the business side of things. But some people could use some help. You know enough of both worlds to be a lot of help.”