After their cozy and impromptu supper in the kitchen, Charlie helped Johnny clear the table. When he suggested that they stack
the dishes in the sink and tend to them in the morning instead, Charlie nodded in eager agreement.
It made an ordinary evening seem to be sort of not so ordinary, with just she and Johnny in the big house, talking together. He started a
small fire in the fireplace, poking up the fire.
Johnny even made drinks of hot chocolate, and to Charlie's delight, he had a cup, too, as well as preparing Charlie's.
As they settled onto the sofa in the library, Johnny on one end, and Charlie curled next to him, she looked up at Johnny,
and giggled.
"What's so funny?" he asked her.
"You've got chocolate-right there," Charlie told him, reaching up to touch his upper lip lightly.
"Do I?" he asked, making a comical face at Charlie that made her giggle again. He took a swipe at his lip with his fingers. "Did I get it?" he asked.
"Yeah," Charlie said, with a nod.
"As they sat, watching the glowing embers, Johnny looped his right arm around Charlie's shoulders.
"You wanna tell me about school?" Johnny asked her, after a time of quiet.
Charlie was going to make a quip of some sort about the tedium of school, in response to his question. At the last moment, though, she
didn't do that. She thought over the awfulness of what had happened, and hesitated.
She rubbed her left cheek against his shirt, from where her face was tucked on his chest.
"Do I have to?" she asked, tentatively.
"Nope," he responded, without hesitation, taking a drink of his chocolate.
Overwhelmed suddenly with the fortuity of Johnny being there, right beside her, but also there, a part of her life, Charlie squeezed
him tightly around his waist.
"I went to apologize to her, like Scott said to," Charlie began, reminding him of the situation. "It-wasn't good."
"She wasn't acceptin' about it?" he asked.
"No."
"Well, that's her loss," Johnny said. "You did what ya should."
Charlie hesitated, rubbing her cheek against his shirt fabric again. "She said mean things."
"Like what?"
"She said that I'd been given an opportunity to be here-at Lancer, and that she used to think highly of Murdoch, but now she
doesn't, so much," Charlie said, haltingly.
She felt Johnny's body shift, and he moved his arm, urging her to a sitting-taller position, her head off of his chest, so she had to
look up at him instead.
"Why doesn't she?" he asked.
"Because of me-because I'm disrespectful, I guess. She said he has poor judgement. I think she thinks Murdoch and Scott were wrong
for takin' me into the family-"
"Well's that's horseshit," Johnny said, vehemently, his eyes snapping. "Ya know that, don't ya?"
Charlie shrugged. "I guess."
"Hey," Johnny said, and gave her braid a light tug. Not to hurt, but to garner her attention. "You hear me and hear good. She's wrong. About all of that."
Charlie fastened her wide brown eyes on his tanned face. "I know I was given an opportunity, though-"
"Yeah. Okay. That part's right enough," Johnny conceded. "I'm talkin' about the other-about the way ya came into the family-and
Murdoch not knowin' what was what." He tugged her braid again. "There was no mistake made about you bein' here, not by Scott, or by anybody."
"We clear on that?" he added, sounding stern.
Knowing him now, as she did, Charlie didn't fear that tone or the frown he wore. She knew the love behind them. She nodded. "Yes, Johnny."
He nodded, satisfied, and said, "That all she had to say, then?"
Charlie hesitated, debating about whether to lie. She made the quick decision. Not for anything, anything, was she going to hurt Johnny's
feelings.
She gave a slight shrug, avoiding his eyes directly. Fastening her eyes, instead, on the collar of his blue shirt. "Yeah."
"Look at me," Johnny ordered, and Charlie lifted her gaze. Instead of saying anything, right away, Johnny instead studied
her face for a long, long few moments. He sighed a bit.
"She have some uncomplimentary things to say about me, too?" he asked.
Struck at how well he could read her, Charlie felt a bit off-balance. She began to shake her head, still intent on her fib, and protecting
his feelings.
"Charlie," he said, and there was no denying his intent. He meant it.
Charlie sighed. "Yeah," she admitted.
Instead of appearing upset, though, Johnny only gave a slight shake of his dark head. "You're likely to hear a whole lot about
me, over the rest of your growin' time, pequeno. You'd do well to not let it bother ya."
"That's just-" Charlie hesitated, sitting up very straight and turning to face him. One of the words she'd learned over the past week popped into
her head. "Just ludicrous!"
Johnny raised one eyebrow. "Oh, it is?" he asked.
"Yes! It's-silly! Of course it's gonna bother me-it'll make me furious if anybody says anything bad about you! Or about Scott-or anybody here
at Lancer! Even Jelly!"
"Even Jelly, huh?" Johnny asked, barely hiding his amusement.
Charlie nodded her head vigorously. "I told her that anybody who had anything to say like that wasn't fit to lick your boots-"
Johnny laughed. "Well, thanks, pequeno. I don't think I've ever had anybody defend me as good as all that."
Charlie calmed a bit, and gave him a half-smile. "She made me stay in the rest of the recess."
"Because ya got sassy?"
At her nod, Johnny looked serious again. "Well-maybe ya shouldn't have spouted off quite so much."
"I'd do it again!" Charlie said, with determination.
"I'll bet ya would."
"Scott'll understand, won't he?" Charlie asked, nibbling at her lower lip.
"He will."
They settled back into comfortable quiet. Charlie was nearly asleep, when Johnny gave her a gentle jostling.
"Time for ya to get to bed," he said.
"Can I stay up and wait for Teresa to get home?"
"No. I'll do that," he told her. "Go on up and get into your nightclothes. I'll come up and say goodnight."
"Can I take some cookies and milk upstairs?"
"Get your cookies and milk," he said.
"Okay," Charlie said, and got reluctantly to her feet. Johnny stood, as well, and Charlie looked up at him.
"I'm awful glad about you, Johnny." Thinking she should explain what she meant, she began, "I mean-"
"I know what ya mean, pequeno. I'm glad about you, too."
Lancer