Chapter Seven
A very waterlogged little girl came sliding in from the pool ending their deep and far too personal discussion. As always, Sarah lit up when she saw Dani and made a beeline for her mother's lap, wet towel and all. Charlie quietly paid Malibu Barbie in cash and explained that her services were no longer needed.
The young blonde asked him in a coy way if she should leave her number and Charlie told her it was best if she didn't. She risked a glance at Dani and Sarah and offered that he had a nice family. Charlie smiled, showed her out and wished her perception was his reality, but it wasn't.
He returned to find Dani had taken Sarah upstairs to wash the chlorine off her and he busied himself with fixing dinner. He wasn't surprised to find himself humming absently. He was happy; having Dani and Sarah close relaxed him, even when he and Dani fought – they balanced him and he hoped to do the same for them…someday.
Rosa was always good about preparing some dish with a post-it note stuck to it, which read, "oven 350F for 40 minutes," to keep him from starving or surviving off take-out. Tonight was no different and in minutes the smell of enchiladas wafted through the house. He took little containers Rosa prepared of sour cream, pico de gallo and guacamole from the fridge and placed them and clean plates on the island.
There was also a small dish labeled "por Sara," containing simple cheese enchiladas. He smiled. Rosa had already discovered the four-year-old girl's love of cheese. He opened a bottle of Shinerbock, took a long pull off it and waited. He didn't have to wait long. Said little girl came gliding down the stairs with her mother; her nose was in the air, sniffing dinner.
"Cheese" she pronounced smiling at Charlie.
"That's right," he grinned. "Nothing but the best for my girls."
"We need to talk," Dani whispered to him, "after dinner."
Shortly after dinner, Charlie put Sarah to bed with "stories." She faded fast after an afternoon of physically exerting herself in the pool and warm meal. Three whole weeks and they'd developed a routine. Charlie read nighttime stories with a flare for the dramatic, voices and all as Sarah giggled and yawned. Dani watched from the doorway. He'd make any little girl a great father.
But if Sarah stayed with Crews, it was too much "them" for her – too soon. Something had to be done, or Dani Reese had to stop running and face her fears. Neither was an appetizing prospect. As she watched Crews snug Sarah's blankets, brush her hair from her face and kiss her good night, all Dani could think was "damn him."
"What's up?" he asked as soon as the door to Sarah's room closed with a soft snick.
"How come she thinks you're her father?" Dani wondered looking directly at him.
"What…" he had the good sense to appear as shocked as he felt. He wisely resisted the pleased smile that he wanted to let spread across his face, but warmth radiated from his chest and he couldn't contain a contented sigh. Children had always been something he'd longed for and Sarah was a tiny treasure. She was her mother before the damage, before the attitude and without the pain. He loved her immediately as an extension of her mother, but within days the little girl had charmed her way into his heart and he couldn't envision a future that didn't include both dark haired beauties. "I have no idea where that came from," he said softly. He watched her believe him, and felt pleased he could see her acceptance and trust returning.
"I think I do," Dani turned and headed down the stairs.
"I didn't tell her that…" he defended.
"I know," she admitted.
"You gonna keep me in suspense?" he wondered.
She paused and asked him her own statement containing challenge. "Yes, because once again it seems as if you know all my secrets Crews and I know none of yours." It was a question without a query. It was a taunt and an opportunity.
"What do you wanna know?" he asked softly. Her effort marked a departure in their relationship. Instead of avoiding, ignoring and refusing to engage, she was curious. She wanted answers – about him. "Hey," he beckoned. "Come with me," he started back down the hallway to his room.
She paused but after a moment she followed. He led her through his Spartan bedroom and into his large closet where she finally she stood face to face with his conspiracy wall. "This is it," he breathed. "This is where I try to figure out who stole twelve years of my life and why. Now you know."
"I do know," she told him as she reached out to finger the pictures pinned to the butcher paper. "I've always known."
"Known what?" he was puzzled.
"That you weren't as Zen as you pretended. That more than a little anger lurked under that expensive suit. That you were finding your way and that…." she trailed off as she reached her father's picture.
"I didn't want to hurt you," he explained his lie.
"I know," she remarked quietly. "I've known for awhile now."
They stood still for several minutes while she processed and absorbed the data displayed on his wall.
"When Roman told me he killed my father….I felt anger and guilt," she opened up fully for the first time about her captivity.
"Guilt? Why?"
"Because part of me was glad he was gone. Part of me was relieved that it was over, that I'd never have to…" her voice caught.
"Reese," he put his hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him. "Why does Sarah think I'm her father?" Jack Reese may have been dead, but Charlie Crews lived and his life included the little girl who slumbered down the hall. He hoped it always would.
"David had green eyes," she spoke through the tears in her eyes. "When she got old enough to ask about her father; that was all I would tell her. I said that he was a nice man, a kind man with green eyes and a beautiful smile." Her description could have easily been Crews.
He pulled her to him gently and she came. His arms enveloped her and they stood in his closet holding onto one another for long enough that he lost track of time.
"I have to go home," she pushed away from him. She wasn't rejecting him, it was just time for her to go.
"No," he said in a neutral tone, with his voice uncharacteristically deep and rough, "you don't." She knew what he was offering and what he was asking. She teetered on the edge of giving in, but couldn't.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Crews," she said as she turned to leave.
"Could you do me one favor?" he asked with tenderness in his voice.
She didn't turn around, but she stopped - begging him to finish his request.
"Call me Charlie," he spoke strongly but softly and made no effort to pursue her.
"Good night…Charlie," she said trying on his name for size. It didn't feel as strange as she'd imagined it would. In her brain he'd been Charlie for a while now. She never turned around, never acknowledged him, but it was progress and he'd take it. Only after she left, did he realize she didn't correct Sarah's mistaken impression. Maybe part of her didn't want to.
