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Charisse

By Fay Lamb

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CHAPTER ONE


The yellow finch perched on the birdfeeder outside Charisse Wellman's kitchen window did nothing for her mood. Beyond the songbird, her untended garden and yard that her husband Vance used to tend with great care reminded her why she hadn’t slept.
Upstairs, a door creaked open. She waited for a moment, but her son didn’t appear. “V.J., breakfast.” She set the box of cereal on the table in her breakfast nook and returned to her window to stare out across the forlorn landscape. Like the weeds menacing the yard, irritation wound through every nerve in her body.
Lord, give me patience. He needs my love, not my anger.
Live up to your name, Charisse. That’s what her husband would say. You are grace, beauty, and kindness.
She swiped the dishcloth over her countertop, past the marred Formica, and dipped it in the soapy dishwater. Her son’s boundless vigor for anything other than dressing for school used to wring the energy from her in the same way she now twisted the dishrag to eliminate the water. One year was too long for either of them to endure this lack of vitality. Vance’s death had zapped the life out of his wife and his child. She leaned both hands on the countertop and closed her eyes, expelling a worried exhale. Vance would know what to say to get their son hopping.
“V.J., we’ve got to hurry. You know I have an appointment.”
“Okay.” Her seven-year-old bounded down the stairs. A seldom-seen smile pushed his lips upward. “I’m ready. I can’t wait to see the shuttle. Timmy told me there are alligators in big ditches on the side of the road. He said the shuttle’s cool, and you can see a real live astronaut suit.” He pulled out his chair and plopped down.
“Mommy grew up in Titusville. Remember?” They could see the Vehicle Assembly Building and the launch pads across the river from her mother’s house. You’d think he’d never seen a shuttle launch. He’d viewed plenty before they shut down the program.
His smile vanished. Her careless words had dampened his enthusiasm.
Charisse winced. Neither a trace of kindness nor an ounce of grace remained. She was sure if there had ever been any beauty on either the outside or the inside, it had faded away in the last year.
She'd just tossed a precious gift away. V.J. smiled so rarely these days.
Why hadn’t she thought of taking a day trip to the space center? Yeah, she’d grown up with it, took the whole space exploration thing for granted, but who knew the adventure would make such a difference in him? She put a smile in place. “Oh, honey, I know you’re excited. Field trips are so much fun.”
He’d begged her not to go on the job interview, to join him on the class outing, but he’d accepted her answer the way he braved most disappointments these days—with sad eyes and a silent mouth.
Charisse poured the cereal and then the milk into the bowl as the toaster presented its specialty—burnt bread.
The phone rang, and V.J. jumped up. "I got it." He grabbed for it.
She took the phone from him. “Sit down and finish your breakfast so I can drop you at school before my appointment.” She brushed back an unruly blonde curl.
“Good morning,” a familiar voice greeted.
“Libby.” Remembering a promise she’d broken to her friend, Charisse made a face in her son’s direction and received an uncharacteristic giggle in reward. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you last night to let you know we made it home. No more late Sunday evening meetings. By the time I picked V.J. up from my mom’s, drove back to Orlando, got him into bed, and ironed my clothes for this morning, well—I’m exhausted.”
And she’d used her last bit of coffee yesterday, trying to get herself ready and awake for church. Until she could add that luxury back onto her grocery list, she’d have to suffer through her mornings without caffeine. If she stepped down from the high school reunion committee, she could use the gas savings to purchase her daily energy boost.
“That’s okay. I didn’t call to make you feel guilty. I only wanted to check on you.” Libby’s sweet voice calmed Charisse.
Coffee or no coffee, how could she think of quitting the reunion committee no matter the cost? The only reason she’d taken on the duty was to support Libby and give her friend a chance to get out of the house—a much needed break from her wonderful, but ailing, mother.
“Mommy, can I have some extra money to buy you a present from the gift shop? Timmy says they have a good one.”
“Are you okay?” Libby asked.
“Yes,” Charisse answered both their questions.
She looked at the jar filled with the change Vance used to empty from his pockets each evening. Today, to keep the smile on her little boy’s face, she’d do the unthinkable.
V.J. smiled and went back to his breakfast. “I’ll buy you some astronaut ice cream. Timmy says it’s not even cold.” Milk dribbled down his chin.
“I’m fine,” she said to Libby and moved to the jar, pulling out quarters and reminding herself that whatever V.J. bought would be a special gift from his father as well.
Libby chattered on, but Charisse wasn’t listening.
She counted the quarters until she had enough and stacked them beside the long deep scratch on her Formica countertop. As if cleaning fish inside the house hadn’t been enough, Vance had marred her perfect kitchen with his fillet knife. She’d exploded with anger at him.
“I’m sorry,” he’d said. “Sweetheart, I didn’t mean to cut into the counter. I’ll replace it. I promise.” He tilted his head waiting for her to forgive him. His brown-eyed look resembled a chastised puppy.
“You bet you will,” she’d said before storming away.
Charisse gripped the phone in her hand and ran her hand along the scratch then placed her forefinger and thumb at the bridge of her nose attempting to stop her emotions. She’d meant to apologize the next day before he left for work, but pandemonium had broken loose when her car wouldn’t start. Then after work when he’d picked her up from her class at the university, she’d never gotten the chance.
His ready apology and the forgiveness she failed to speak remained forever etched into her heart. She’d never allow anyone to change the countertop—a reminder to her that some things weren’t all that important after all.
“… besides, you seemed preoccupied at the reunion meeting.” Libby’s words brought her back, and she froze. What had she been talking about?
“Do you need my help with anything on our agenda? I could call the country club and do some of the leg work,” Libby asked.
“No. I can handle it. Thank you, though. I’ll call today and make an appointment with the manager before our next committee meeting. I’ll get everything done in one visit. You have enough to worry about, Lib.”
“Do you want to talk?”
“I’m fine,” Charisse said again, but the quiver in her voice betrayed her. The tower of strength she’d built day by day since Vance's death threatened to crumble.
“You don’t sound it. Tell me, and I’ll pray for you.”
She stared at the coins in her hand. Libby, sweet Libby. Prayer came so natural to her friend.
“I told you I might have to drop out of law school,” she whispered. “The money’s not there, not enough for me to go to school and keep the house. The insurance pays the mortgage, that’s all. I’m not going back.”
“Oh, Charisse. I’m sorry. I know how much it means to you. Why didn’t you say something last night? We could have talked and prayed together.”
And that’s why she hadn’t mentioned it. She hated to put her failure into words. When she started law school, Vance made her promise she’d finish no matter what. Did he realize “no matter what” would turn out to be his death?
Scattering the coins, she covered her eyes with her hand. Still, the tears seeped through. “I need to find a job. I have an interview today, but my faith is lacking.”
“You’re not going to forget school completely, are you?”
“I could continue if V.J. and I want to live in my car.” The words she'd meant to convey humor only added to the pain crushing her heart.
Life wasn’t fair. Vance should be alive. She should be in school. V.J. should be happy and well adjusted. At the very least, her husband’s killer should be in jail. Instead, her old high school friend, the Honorable Gideon Tabor, had entered a directed verdict, taking the decision from the jury and making it himself, and he'd dismissed the charges following the state’s presentation of its case.
What was Gideon thinking? She hadn’t seen him in years, and as a witness, she wasn’t allowed in the courtroom. He didn’t know the defendant, Carson Fullwell, had killed her husband. Not that it would matter. Gideon had dismissed her from his life long ago. His mocking words still haunted her.
Charisse dropped the hand covering her eyes and leaned her head back. What if the interview I have today is with …? No. God wouldn't put her in that position. What would she do if the interview ended up being with Gideon?
“What’s wrong, Mommy?” V.J. tugged at her skirt. “Don’t cry.”
Charisse bent down and held her son close, nearly dropping the phone. “Mommy’s having a rough morning. Are you finished eating?”
She felt his nod against her shoulder, and she knew. She'd do anything she had to do to keep her son in the only home he'd ever known, even if it meant working for the man who allowed Vance's killer to go free.
"Mommy," V.J. pulled away from her, "is it because you can't go on the trip with me? It's okay."
She forced a smile and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for telling me so. I would really like to go, but you know my appointment is very important. Now, why don't you go get your books?”
“I don’t need them. The field trip, remember?”
“Mommy’s being silly.” She forced a lighter tone. “Of course you don’t need your books.” V.J. needed security and her runaway emotions would provide only instability. “You know how Libby is. She always makes Mommy cry.” She pulled away and winked at him.
“Charisse, I’d never make you cry on purpose.” A very patient and quiet Libby missed the joke, as only Libby would do.
“Hi, Libby.” V.J. took the phone from Charisse’s hand. “I’m going to Kennedy Space Center today to see the big rocket ships, and I’m going to buy Mommy some ice cream like the astronauts eat.”
Charisse packed his lunch as her son rambled on. When she finished, she took the phone and pointed toward the stairs. “Go brush your teeth.”
“I haven’t heard him talk so much since …” Libby stopped.
“Since Vance died. I know. The Lord is giving me a little encouragement this morning.” Charisse washed and rinsed the cereal bowl, leaving it in the dish rack.
“Don’t give up on your dreams, not until you’re sure God doesn’t have another plan in the works for you.”
“I thought God wanted Vance in my life.” Bitterness seeped into her words.
“That man was pure blessing.”
“And God took him away. I can tell V.J. how wonderful his father was, but he’ll never experience Vance’s love again. His father will become a distant memory.” Charisse sighed. “A stranger ran my husband down and left the scene. My last memory of Vance is his broken and bloodied body on the side of that road, and Gideon Tabor used some loophole to release him.
"I mean, I’ve been to law school. Directed verdicts aren’t easy to win. The state attorney had to have been a blithering idiot to take a case to trial if there was a chance the verdict would be taken out of the jury’s hands and delivered by the judge before the defense even began its case. If the state had called me, I might have been able to convince Gideon.”
“Of what? How many times have you told me you didn’t get a good look at the car or the driver, only Vance?”
Charisse choked back the sob brought forth by Libby’s steadfast truth. “But it was Fullwell’s car. The other witnesses confirmed the tag number. The car was registered to the man.”
“Charisse, I know it’s hard to let go, but God’s given you another direction. Please trust Him to lead you.”
“I’m trying.” Charisse looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. She straightened. “I have to hurry. V.J. has to get to school by eight thirty, and my interview is at nine. In rush hour traffic, I’m pushing it.” And she had to stop by a convenience store and change the quarters into bills for V.J. to carry with him on his field trip. “Pray for me, please.”
“You know I will. Godspeed.”
“Love you.” Charisse clicked off the phone. “V.J., let’s go.”

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