Promise Me (16 page)

“What happened to your VW?” I asked.

“I traded up,” he said. “The bug kept breaking down.”

“It's good to see you,” I said.

He smiled. “I'm glad to hear that. So how is everyone? How's Charlotte?”

I put my hands on my hips. “She's doing well. Actually, she's doing amazingly well. But I think you already knew she'd be better.”

“Knew? No. But I hoped.”

“Hope,” I repeated. “I've been in short supply of that lately. I don't know how to thank you. My friend Rox said it better be something good.”

He grinned. “You should listen to her. So let me think about this. What's the best way to thank a man who potentially saved your daughter's life? The mind reels.”

I cocked my head. “Within reason.”

“Well, considering the recent change in circumstances, if your moratorium on dating has been lifted, a simple date will suffice.”

“Gladly. When would you like to go out?”

“You said weekends are good. How about tomorrow night?”

“I'll need to find a babysitter.”

“Charlotte can come,” he said.

“No, I'd rather keep her out of my dating life. I think it would be confusing to her.”

He nodded. “Wise.”

“So, what do you want to do?” I asked.

“I don't care. Just spend time with you. Dinner and talking sounds good.”

“That sounds good to me too. You should probably give me your phone number, just in case something happens again.”

“Unfortunately, I don't have a phone. But I can call you, if you'll give me your number.”

“I'll write it down. Can you come inside for a moment?”

“Of course.” He followed me inside the foyer.

“You can wait here. My kitchen's a little messy.”

“No problem.”

I found a pen in the kitchen, but it didn't work, so I rooted through drawers for some other writing implement, ending up with one of Charlotte's crayons. I found a note pad in the pantry and scrawled down my phone number. As I walked back to the foyer, I saw Charlotte standing close to Matthew. He was crouched down and moving away from her, as if he had touched or hugged her. I wasn't sure what I was seeing.

“Charlotte,” I said. “I thought you were in bed, honey.”

“I heard the door open,” she said, “I came to see who was here.”

I looked back and forth between them. I couldn't explain it, but there was a strange energy. I wasn't sure in the dim lighting, but Matthew's eyes seemed wet. “Matthew, this is my daughter Charlotte.”

He extended his hand to her. “Nice to meet you, Charlotte. I'm Matthew.”

“Nice to meet you, Matthew.”

“Mr. Matthew,” I said. “Now go back to bed.”

“Okay.” She waved at him. “Bye, Mr. Matthew.”

“Good night, Charlotte.”

She ran back to the bedroom.

“She's a very sweet girl,” he said to me. “She looks well.”

“Thanks to you.”

“She's going to be a very beautiful woman someday. I guarantee it.” Then he looked at me. “Like her mother.”

“Thank you.” I handed him the paper. “Here you are. The top number is my phone number at the house and the bottom number is the cleaners.”

“I'll call you tomorrow.”

“I'll look forward to it.”

“Well, good night.” He turned to go.

As he walked out the front door I said, “Matthew.”

“Yes.”

“How did you know? About Charlotte?”

He shrugged. “Lucky guess.”

“But you weren't guessing. You told me to trust you.”

He just looked at me for a moment. “I recognized the symptoms from what you told me.” He saluted. “Good night, Beth.”

“Good night, Matthew.”

When he was in his car, I shut the door and leaned against it. There was something mysterious about this man. Something sweet but mysterious. What was I missing?

Some relationships need to be pounded into place with a sledge hammer, while others effortlessly fall into place as if made to fit. Matthew fits as comfortably as a pair of Hush Puppy loafers.

(Rox once told me that the brand name Hush Puppies came when the shoe company's president was eating a southern dinner of fried corn “hush puppies” and asked the waitress why they were so called. She replied, “Because farmers throw them to the hounds to quiet their barking dogs.” Barking dogs was, back then, an idiom for sore feet, and a star was born.
Or maybe Rox was just making that up. With Rox one never quite knows where truth ends and imagination begins.)

Beth Cardall's Diary

I called Roxanne as soon as Matthew left to see if Jan could babysit. As I expected, she was relieved to hear of his return. “I knew he'd be back,” she said. “I told you, didn't I?”

“Right as usual,” I said.

“Well, come hell or high water you're going out with that man. Jan's out with her friends right now, but if she can't sit, you can just bring Charlotte on by the house. Ray and I aren't doing anything.”

“Thanks, Rox.”

“My pleasure, baby. I just love a new romance. My candle may be flickering, but I can still warm myself by your flame.”

Jan wasn't busy Friday night, and in spite of her previous experience with Charlotte, she was happy to babysit. As usual, she came a little early. I hugged her at the door. “I never thanked you for your help last time.”

“I was glad to help. Sure scared me, though.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Where's our girl?”

“She's in her bedroom.”

“Not anymore,” Jan said as Charlotte came running toward her.

“Jan!”

“Hi, sweetie. Wow, you look as bubbly as a shaken soda. Where'd you get all that energy?”

“I'm celiac,” she said.

“You're what?”

“She's allergic to wheat,” I said. “I've made a list for you of things she can eat. Will it be a problem if we're out late?”

“No worries, Mrs. C. I've got an essay I need to write.”

“Wanna play with Molly?” Charlotte asked.

Jan grabbed her hand. “You know I do.”

The two of them ran off. I went and checked myself in the mirror again, and a few minutes later Matthew's car pulled into the driveway. He came to the door holding a small bouquet of flowers that he surrendered to me.

“Gerbera daisies,” I said. “I love Gerbera daisies. Thank you. Let me put them in some water. Come in.”

While he was waiting for me, Charlotte walked back out to the door dragging Jan behind her. “This is my Mom's new friend. Hi, Mr. Matthew.”

“Hello, Miss Charlotte,” Matthew said.

“I'm Jan,” Jan said. “Charlotte's babysitter.”

“So you're Jan,” he said with a slight lilt. “I've heard so much about you.”

“Really? From whom?”

There was an awkward pause, then he said to Charlotte, “I brought you something. Do you like peanut butter cups?”

“Yes.”

“It's all yours. Gluten-free.”

“Thank you, Mr. Matthew.”

“You two have a good night. It's nice to meet you, Jan.”

I put the flowers in a vase, then walked back out. “Jan, we'll be leaving now. Bedtime is nine.”

“Have fun,” she said. “Don't worry about a thing.”

“Are you taking my mommy to dinner?” Charlotte asked Matthew.

He crouched down to her height. “Yes, I am. Is that okay?”

“Don't make her cry.”

“Okay,” I said, “that's enough of that.”

Matthew winked at her. “I promise I'll try not to.”

“Good night, honey,” I said, and kissed her. “Go to bed when Jan tells you.”

Matthew and I walked out to his car. “Sorry about that,” I said when the door shut. “She's a little protective.”

“I wonder where she gets that,” he said.

“So bribing the child with candy. Trying to make her like you?”

“Whatever works.”

“Oh, by the way,” I said. “Don't make me cry.”

He grinned. “I'll do my best.” He opened my door, then walked around and climbed in. “I hope you're hungry. I made reservations at a little place called the Five Alls.”

I looked at him with surprise. “That's my favorite restaurant.”

“Good,” he said. “Then if my company stinks, at least you'll enjoy the food.”

The Five Alls is a charming English-themed restaurant off Foothill Drive on the east bench of the Salt Lake Valley. It was the backdrop to some of my fondest memories: my first prom, Marc and my engagement, our first anniversary, and Charlotte's first day of school.

The hostess sat us at a small table for two in a secluded back room near a fireplace.

“In all the years I've been coming here, I've never sat back here,” I said.

“It's a bit more private,” he said. “Perfect for talking.”

A few moments later a waitress walked back to our table. She was immediately attracted to Matthew. “My name is Samantha, I'll be taking care of you tonight,” she said, looking only at him.