Chapter 10

Charlie stood at the kitchen door, looking through the window. It was a new, asphalt driveway. They had made sure of that, before they brought him home. Don, Colby, David, David's brother-in-law — a contractor — and several of his work contacts. They spent two days breaking out the blood-stained concrete, pouring the grainy, black asphalt. Charlie knew that should matter to him.

It was Wednesday. He had finally gotten Don to go back to work, convinced his Dad he could do the grocery shopping and leave him alone for a few hours.

He just wanted to be alone.

He turned his head slightly, so that his left ear was more exposed to the rest of the house. Most of the dizziness and balance problems were gone, but he still had fairly regular tinnititus, and he tried to make people speak on his left side. Unless he didn't want to hear. Sometimes, he didn't mention it, because it was easier to not have to answer when they asked him questions.

Yep, he was sure of it now. Someone was ringing the doorbell — it wasn't just in his ear — and now knocking on the front door, as well. He wearily rubbed the back of his neck, padded in bare feet through the kitchen, dining room, living room. He pulled open the door without looking through the peephole first. Don would be angry, but Charlie just didn't really care who it was.

"That's a nice look," she said, eyes taking in the old t-shirt, ragged sweats, bare feet. She reached out and touched the six-day growth of beard on his face. "Not your best look, though." She leaned forward, peered more closely. "Some of this is coming in gray."

In spite of himself, he felt himself smile. "Katie. It's good to see you."

He held open the door farther so that she could come in. Instead of brushing past him, she stopped and hugged him, quick, hard. "How are you?" she whispered in his ear.

Automatically, he stepped back, avoided her eyes, passed beyond her into the living room. "Do you want to sit down?"

Katie followed him, pushed his back lightly to keep him going. "You know," she said conversationally. "Since you were my patient — one of my favorite patients, I might add — I've really missed something."

Charlie let her propel him back to the kitchen and sit him at the table. She stood looking down at him, grinning slightly. It was making him nervous. He was almost afraid to ask. "What?"

She reached out a hand again to touch his cheek. "I want to give you a shave. Or are you growing this on purpose?"

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

Don couldn't concentrate. He knew that a distracted Agent would do more harm than good, so he refused to let himself go out in the field. In fact, it was unprecedented, but he pulled the entire team off the roster. No action for any of them, at least for a few days. They needed to regroup. At Megan's suggestion, they were even all going together to a session with the FBI shrink tomorrow. He hoped it would help. They had all been in various forms of law enforcement for years, it's not like this was new for any of them. But it was worse, somehow, different, somehow. Charlie was part of their team, but he was a cilvilian part. He wasn't supposed to pay the same price they did.

His eyes wandered to the clock. Almost noon. Maybe he'd go by the house, have lunch with Charlie. Well, have lunch with Charlie watching him, not eating anything himself, wearing the same grungy sweats for the fourth day in a row, not talking and pretending not to hear when he did…. Yeah. Don stood up. He would go do that.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

He didn't recognize the car in the new driveway, but he saw that his father's car was gone so he was glad that at least Charlie wasn't alone. He opened the front door, tossed his keys on the hall table. He expected to see someone in the living room. When he didn't, he opened his mouth to call, but then, through the dining room, he saw them in the kitchen. He silently lowered himself to the couch and watched.

Charlie was sitting in a chair, eyes closed, head tilted slightly back. He face was covered with shaving cream. There was a large bowl of water on the table. Facing him, sitting closely in another chair, was Katie. He watched her flick water off the straight edge as she lifted it from the bowl. Her hand was sure, and she made quick, short movements. She shaved the heavy stubble from his face, then picked something up from the floor and squirted it into her hands. She lathered his face again, stood and changed the water in the bowl. She sat down and worked the razor the other way now, slower, taking her time. There was no speaking. When she finished, she picked up a towel from the table, stood, and began gently wiping the residue of shaving cream from his face. Charlie's eyes were still closed.

She tossed the towel on the table as she walked around behind Charlie's chair. She bent over him, then, draped an arm over his chest and spoke into his left ear. "When she left last year," she started, "I told you that she hadn't taken any part of you with her. The experience of having loved her…it added to who you are, it didn't take anything away. That's still true."

Don was surprised to hear Charlie's voice, soft, almost dreamy. "The sun comes out every day. The sun comes up in the morning, and I am astonished. I don't understand how the sun can shine on a world without her in it. I watch people, and they laugh, they smile. It doesn't make me angry, I just think they must not know. They must not understand."

She lifted the hand from his chest to touch his hair, but otherwise did not change her position.

"When my mother died," he continued, and Don stiffened. "It was different. I couldn't be there, I couldn't put the chalk down…Now, I can't leave here, I can't pick the chalk up…"

"Of course it was different. You're different. Every love that blesses us is different, every loss is unique. It doesn't mean you did the wrong thing then, or that you're doing the wrong thing now."

His eyes were still closed, and he raised his hand to pull hers out of his hair, hold it tightly over his heart.

She lowered her voice, but still Don heard. "It will come back. Your passion for life, for teaching, for numbers. It's all in there…maybe rearranging itself a little, but it's still who you are. It will come back."

Charlie tilted his head to meet hers. "What do I do until then?" he whispered.

"One foot," she answered. "One foot goes in front of the other."

And that was where Don placed his, as he headed for the door as silently as he could. He wasn't needed here, not right now. Katie had it all under control.