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Purgatory, West Virginia

April 2

They slept side by side in the bed, Finn on his back, bare-chested, Charlotte curled on her side facing him. Finn came awake and scanned the moonlit room, his eyes coming to rest on the woman beside him, one hand reaching toward him, the other splayed on the headboard. Her eyes fluttered. Finn lifted his head to the carving; the blowing branches outside sent light dancing across the wood. The carved characters and scenery seemed to move, acting out the illusory tale. Clouds obscured the moon outside, and the fairy maiden disappeared into the dark forest. Charlotte gave a small gasp in her sleep.

Finn rolled on his side to face her. He reached out and smoothed her furrowed brow. When her face relaxed, he continued to map her features, touching her temple, her pale cheek, her full lower lip. Sky-blue eyes slowly opened and met his searching gaze. She squeezed them closed again as if in pain, remembering her dream. He didn’t speak or prod. Finn just continued to stroke her face and brush back her hair. A tear leaked from her closed eyes.

“I almost died when I was a baby,” she whispered, eyes still shut tight. “I don’t remember it, of course, but I dream about it sometimes.”

Finn sat up. When she mimicked his movement, he propped their pillows against the headboard and pulled her into the circle of his arm as they reclined.

“My parents weren’t together when I was born. My dad was pretty wild, and he struggled with addiction. He swears he loved my mom from the moment he first met her, but he wasn’t ready for the responsibility of being a husband and a father.” Charlotte huffed a laugh. “He obviously knew that from prior attempts. My mom is his fourth wife. Anyway, when I was about two, he came for a visit—we lived in L.A. at the time—and my mother let him take me to the park near our house.”

Charlotte moved closer into the shelter of Finn’s body and reached her arm around his middle, the pain of the event and the remnants of the dream clinging to her like ivy.

“Dad has only told me the story once, but he talks about it in his recovery meetings sometimes.” She blew out a breath. “He got high at the park. On the way home, he stopped at a bar.” She looked up at Finn with glassy eyes. “He forgot I was in the car. It was the middle of July.”

Finn held her so tightly he thought he might be hurting her, but she returned his embrace with equal fervor. “Dad said he came outside, and the parking lot was filled with police cars. I was being treated by paramedics and rushed to the hospital.”

“A cop spotted you in the car?” Finn asked.

“No, a man. There were some stores in the same strip mall, and this homeless man had been begging in the parking lot. He used a brick to break a window, and I guess people thought he was breaking into the car. Someone called 9-1-1, and when the cops got there, they realized what was going on and helped him revive me. The yelling, the car alarm, the police sirens—my dad hadn’t heard any of it. He came out of the bar because the bartender cut him off.”

“Jesus.”

“That wasn’t my dad. I mean, it was the same person and all, but it’s not the man I know. After that happened, he went away for a six-month rehab program. He quit his job, cut ties with anyone and everyone in his life who partied. He tracked down the man that saved me. He was a homeless veteran living in this tent village with other vets.”

“I’ve heard about places like that,” Finn said.

“They were running it like a barracks, keeping the area clean, checking up on each other. Dad bought and renovated a small apartment building in downtown LA. Gave each of the men their own place. He hired the man who saved me as a security guard at his office.”

“Wow. That’s quite a gesture.”

“He brought me to meet the man when I was maybe four. I don’t remember him, just that he was nice. He worked for my dad for five years until he saved up enough money to move back east to his family. I think about him sometimes—hope he’s well and happy. Dad says one of the keys to recovery is gratitude: remembering everything you have and being grateful. He said he only has to think of that guy to remember that lesson.”

“How did your mom ever forgive him?” Finn asked.

“In baby steps. That’s what she says. My dad is this sort of larger-than-life guy, but he has always said that mom saw the man behind the mask from the very start. So he set out to prove to her that he was the man she envisioned. After a year of sobriety, she allowed him supervised visits. Even without drugs or alcohol, my dad never does anything halfway. He would visit and bring a pony or rent out an amusement park.” She smiled at the memory. “He showed up one time in skydiving gear. My mom slammed the door in his face.

“He proposed every year, but mom kept saying no. Finally, after he’d been sober five years and made something of a grand gesture, they got married on my seventh birthday.”

“She forgave him,” Finn said.

“She did. But it was more than that. Before he got sober, my dad was a different person. My mom was dazzled by him—that’s the word she uses, dazzled. He was this rock star who could charm the pants off anyone. He’s still a big presence, but they both agree, he’s a different man since he left his old life. They had to get to know each other all over again. Mom says she was infatuated with the old version of my dad, but she fell in love with the new version.”

Finn squeezed Charlotte’s shoulder. Her parents’ story had a familiar ring.

“My dad says his goal in life is that when he puts his head on the pillow at the end of each day, he wants to feel worthy of our love.”

“That’s a man with his priorities in line,” Finn said.

“I know he loves me like crazy—he loves all of his kids. I told you he’d been married three times before; I have five half-siblings who are all much older. My closest sibling is forty-five. My dad actually has a great-grandchild. With my mom, it’s different. It’s a love story.”

Finn kissed the top of her head. Untangling himself from Charlotte, he inched down the bed and lifted the hem of the T-shirt she wore.

“God, Charlotte, that story. When I think about what could have happened…” Finn pinched his eyes closed, halting the image.

He ran a hand over her stomach, the slight paunch just visible. Placing a kiss above her belly button, Finn rested his forehead on her body. He knew she must feel the tears running down the side of her waist, but she didn’t move at all. After a moment or two, he felt a tentative hand in his hair. He lifted his head and met her gaze.


Tags: Debbie Baldwin Bishop Security Mystery