Reunion for the First Time (2 page)

“Who is it?” came his brother’s muffled voice from inside.

Eager to hand over the coffee and have a serious talk with Charlie, Jack boomed, “Hey, Chuck. Open up.”

“What are you doing here?”

Talking through a door, feeling stupid standing in the hot sun and praying this isn’t a waste of time.
“Nice welcome. Open up. I have coffee.”

“More coffee, just what I need. This place is turning into a revolving door at Starbucks.”

More muffled grumbling could be heard as the door swung open. Jack passed by his brother and into the hermit’s lair, just like Dad’s place. He shivered at the memory.

As boys, they had watched the life seep out of their father after their mother took off for another man’s greener pasture. Still a cheerless, passionless man, Dad had raised them well enough with a lot of help from their maternal grandfather. When Jack thought of the father-son events of his life, he always thought of his grandfather, not his Dad. He’d chip away at Charlie forever before he let him turn into their father.

“Did a woman just leave here?” Jack continued to walk through the house to the living room looking over his shoulder to see if his brother was following.

“What woman?” Charlie stood by the open door and looked at him dull-eyed.

“Slim brunette? Nice legs?”

“None of your business.” Charlie shuffled toward the back of the house. He still wore his pajamas, and his hair was filthy.

Jack hardly recognized his brother who used to dress like a GQ model.

“What the hell are you doing hibernating in your bathrobe all day?” Jack put the coffee cups down on the hall table and reversed direction to close the door.

“Geez, let some light in.” He went from window to window in the front of the house and tugged open the drapes suspecting the curtains wouldn’t stay open long. Maybe two minutes after he left Charlie alone.

Catching up with his brother at the entrance to the great room, Jack walked, more like shuffled at his brother’s pace, at Charlie’s elbow. “Time to get moving. Today is the start of the rest of your life.”

“Yeah, Tony Robbins.” Charlie turned away from him and moved toward the family room. “I’m not interested. Thanks for the coffee. Feel free to leave any time.”

“Not until you hear me out.” Jack paced inches away from his heels. “I have a proposition for you.”

A brown and white dog trotted toward Jack with a flurry of nail clicks on the hardwood floor. He stooped down and petted it. “Whoa, what’s this?”

The small terrier wagged its nub tail and rolled over in belly-offering submission.

Charlie plopped down in the nearest chair. “A dog.”

“Got that part, wise guy.” Jack took a seat facing him. “You get a dog? Good idea if you ask me.”

“Lizzie brought it here. I’m everybody’s project today.”

The dog jumped straight into Charlie’s lap, turned a half circle and curled up in a ball.

“Is that who I saw racing down your steps? Mari’s friend Lizzie?”

“Yeah.” Charlie didn’t bend his head or acknowledge the animal despite the racket from the dog’s buzz saw snores. But his face softened—a small scrap of amusement in his brother’s mournful world.

“You know the ball my company sponsors every year for charity?” Jack knew this was going to be hard, but man, Charlie didn’t budge an inch.

“I called my lawyer yesterday and put her to work to establish us as Co-Chairs of The Mariposa Leukemia Foundation. The ball will be held in memory of our Mari this year and every year from now on. I need your help with this. I can’t do it alone.” Jack cringed at what the mere mention of Mari’s name did to his brother. It was hard on him, too. He loved her like a sister.

Charlie folded over with the onslaught of grief. The dog wiggled and contorted from under the canopy of Charlie’s body, planted its hind legs on the chair cushion and laved its tongue over the side of Charlie’s grief-contorted face.

Sobs rasped out of him, and his torso quaked as he pushed the dog down into his lap. “I can’t.” Charlie’s voice sounded wet and guttural as if his lips were submerged in water.

Choked gasps echoed through the house.

Jack knelt in front of Charlie’s chair and wrapped his arms around him and the dog. “Charlie, you can. You know you can. Think. What would Mari want you to do?”

How had he shrunk so much? Charlie’s ribs protruded beneath Jack’s hands, and his own arms looked huge compared to his brother’s. It killed him that his brother was wasting away. He had to save him.

After a few minutes, Charlie relaxed, and the spasms came farther apart, encouraging Jack. The dog slid out from under Jack’s arms, jumped down and skittered away.

Jack hugged Charlie tighter. “Do you think Mari would be happy to see you make a cave out of her home and defile the life you made together? What about Butterfly Books? Do you think it will run itself forever? Are you just going to let it fold?”

Releasing the embrace, Jack eased back on his heels. He gazed directly into Charlie’s bloodshot eyes, hoping he could capitalize on the fact that Charlie didn’t have enough energy to break the force field of his gaze.

“I’ve tried to be patient, Charlie, tried to respect your enormous loss. But I lost my sister. I lost our parents when Mom took off and Dad became the way he is. I can’t lose my brother, too. I won’t lose my brother. Butterfly Books needs you. I need you. What will it take to bring you back? What can I do to help you?”

Charlie stared at Jack with glazed blue eyes, shrugged and said nothing.

Jack straightened. He had to move otherwise he would break something, like Charlie’s bones. Pacing back and forth, he kept his distance. Picking up an envelope on the coffee table, he debated his next maneuver.

“What’s this?” Jack held it in under Charlie’s down-turned eyes.

“I don’t know. Lizzie was all fired up about it. I didn’t pay attention.”

“Pissing off everybody, aren’t you, Charlie?”

Jack opened the manila envelope’s flap and spilled its contents onto the marble tabletop. “What the hell? I didn’t know you had Lizzie Moran taking pictures of my buildings.”

Jack had heard about Elizabeth Moran, the celebrated photojournalist and former member of the Peace Corps. She had met Mari in Guatemala working on some engineering project. Charlie did a stint in the Peace Corps, too, and the three of them linked up there. Jack had never met Mari’s friend. Their schedules never meshed. Not meshing their schedules was on purpose. Mari, never subtle, wanted to play Cupid and he had no idea if Lizzie went along with it or even knew. Either way, Jack avoided anyone’s meddling in his social life, even his beloved Mari’s.

“Lizzie never took any pictures for me. Are you ready to leave now? I’m really tired.” Charlie yawned widely.

“Tired from what? All that effort from ignoring me?”

Jack stalked toward Charlie and thrust a fistful of photos under his nose. “These are mine. My designs. What are you and Elizabeth Moran doing with them? Take a look.”

“For God’s sake. If I look at them, will you leave?”

“If you look at them, I won’t kill you.”

Charlie stood and grabbed the prints out of Jack’s hand. He shuffled through them once and then again slower.

Jack watched his brother’s subtle change, the dawn of professional interest, a glimmer of blessed animation in Charlie’s face.

Thank you, God and Elizabeth.

“These are very good.” Charlie handed the photos back to Jack with a jerk of his arm. “There, I looked at them.”

Jack ignored the dismissal. He had Charlie talking and moving around. Excitement made his heart beat faster. “Good? They’re spectacular, the composition, the light, and night shots. She’s honored each design. Why did she bring them here?”

“I guess she wanted me to do a coffee table book of these prints. Something about how she took these shots in her travels.” Charlie rocked from foot to foot in the sheepish, guilty dance Jack remembered from when they were caught mischief-making as kids.

“I was pretty awful to her. She left in a huff.”

“Gee, and I think you’re so darned charming.”

“Yeah, well.” Charlie pulled on his hair and grimaced at the greasy smear on his fingers. “I think I could use a shower.”

Afraid to say anything that might deflate the fragile balloon of hope that filled Jack, he nodded. He stood and watched his brother walk away.

Charlie’s footsteps thudded up the stairs, and Jack’s eyes brimmed with tears. He walked down the hall, stopped at the foot of the stairs and drummed his fingers on the smooth grooves of the carved mahogany banister.

“Hey, Chuck!” he hollered.

“Yeah,” Chuck’s voice resonated with life—a voice that Jack hadn’t heard in a long time. He laid his head on the banister with relief.

“I’m hungry. Are you up for Lou Malnati’s on Wells? I could eat a large deep-dish all by myself.” Jack held his breath.

“I’m hungry, too…”

Great. That’s a good sign.

“Maybe order delivery. Give me ten minutes.”

A flow of water echoed hollow through the pipes and Jack let out his breath with a
whoosh
.

It was a start.

As he turned away to go take another look at those pictures, the front door burst inward toward Jack. Jumping back before it clocked him, he lost his balance as the female that followed quickly through the door did clock him in a soft collision of breasts against his chest.

“Ohmygosh, I’m so sorry.” Standing in front of him, a pretty blush spread on her lightly tanned cheeks.

“No problem…miss?” He backed up to give her space, shoving the front door closed.

“Lizzie Moran.” She held out a hand. “And you are?”

“Jack Clark.” He shook her hand, just skimming her knuckles with his fingers, a pleasant connection. So this is the famous Lizzie, now he was sorry for not meshing.

Beguiling smile, tender eyes, legs even better close up. On the skinny side, but appealing curves where it counts. Plus she obviously cares about Charlie and that means a great deal.

“Oh. Jack finally.” She brushed her bangs out of her eyes. “Mari told me so much about you. Nice to meet you.”

She bent her head and surveyed the floor.

“Looking for your dog?” He turned toward the back of the house joining in the search.

“Ah, yes. Marty. Marty!” she blasted.

His ears vibrated. The dog tore from behind him toward Lizzie with jubilant owner worship yips. Lizzie scooped up the little dog and let her lick the side of her cheek unhindered. Made Jack want to be a Boston terrier.

“Cute dog.” He couldn’t help but look at those legs.

“Thanks. Where’s Charlie?” She nudged the dog away from her face.

“Taking a shower.” Finally getting Charlie up and about brought a smile to his face.

“No kidding?” Her deep green eyes widened to twice their size. “What did you do, club him and prop him up under the water?”

Jack laughed. “No. But it crossed my mind.”

She turned toward the open door. “I have to run. Tell Charlie I came back for Marty?”

“Sure,” he agreed following her toward the door.

“Nice to finally meet you, Jack. And, thank you for whatever you did to make the difference with Charlie. I’ve been knocking my head against the wall trying to get through to him.” She smiled and turned slowly toward the street.

“Same here.” He stood and watched her walk the dog down the block. Mari, bless her heart, might have been on to something.

Jack closed the door and headed to the den, Mari on his mind. She had hounded him to meet Elizabeth Moran because they had so much in common.

He picked up the photos Lizzie had left behind. Color, black and white, even night shots from unique perspectives—her sheer artistry impressed Jack. Her looks impressed him, too, enough to arouse his curiosity about the woman Mari had so loved.

But Mari wanted everyone to have true love, the kind that came with marriage licenses and browsing furniture showrooms. She had wanted that for him. Scared him senseless.

Creaks and footfalls overhead, “Hey Jack!”

Jack hurried back to the stairs and saw Charlie on the upper landing, a towel wrapped around his waist.

God, he’s thin.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, how did you do on that bid you were telling me about a while ago?” Charlie rubbed a towel over his wet hair.

Stunned, that in his catatonic state, Charlie had apparently listened to him, Jack worked to keep the tone of his voice even, “Great. I got the contract to design the Freedom Center in Boston. Beat out the Prescott Group in its own backyard. It’s about time, too. That Prescott is an embarrassment to the industry. Are you going to publish the coffee table book, Charlie?” Jack prayed Lizzie’s photos had hooked Charlie, too.

“The works of the illustrious architect JP Hamilton? I don’t know. I might.”

Chapter Two

The phone rang inside her condo, and Lizzie fumbled with her keys. She juggled the cumbersome portfolio on her shoulder and tried to maintain balance while Marty tugged on the leash.

Lizzie had muttered disgruntled epithets about Charlie the whole way home. The dog could always pick up on her moods. As soon as Lizzie shoved the front door open, Marty yanked away and ran under the bed where she kept a stash of toys.

Lizzie dropped everything on the carpet to the right of the door and nudged it shut with an elbow jab while she slid across the kitchen tile to nab the phone before it stopped ringing.

“Hello?” She leaned against the kitchen counter breathing hard.

“Hi, Lizzie. I thought I was on my way to your voicemail.” The familiar Boston accent, the sound of loving friendship.

“Kay, hi. It’s so good to hear your voice. How are you feeling?”

“I imagine the same way a beached whale must feel in ninety degree sand.”

“Oh, you poor thing. Why doesn’t Mick just get someone to install central air in that old barn to make your pregnancy easier on you?”

“Don’t get me started. Mick wants to do the renovations himself. He’s doing a beautiful job…wait ’til you see. But he’s gotten busy at work and hasn’t had the time to finish the house. I’m sitting here feeling sorry for myself.” She huffed out a sigh. “I wanted to talk to my best friend and invite you to my pity party.”