Public Displays Of Affection

Chapter Sixteen

LoriSue didn't feel one lick of guilt about asking Jolene to open her beauty salon early on a Sunday morning, because she'd made the woman an offer she couldn't refuse. Jolene had four kids to support and a house LoriSue knew very well cost a good $1,700 a month.

She'd sold it to her.

Jolene appeared slightly stunned when she unlocked the doors to the Hair You Are salon on Main Street. She looked LoriSue up and down. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Absolutely certain."

"Well, okay." Jolene shrugged, getting out a plastic cape. "Have a seat. You look real nice today by the way."

She sure as hell hoped so. This was the first public outing of her new look, the first of nine outfits she'd hauled away from that boutique in Mount Adams that promised that style was an attitude, not an age.

And that morning she was wearing three hundred bucks' worth of attitude-cream yellow linen crop pants and a little matching jacket with retro buttons. The low-heeled slides were ninety. The earrings-simple little things that didn't even dangle, for God's sake-had been sixty-five.

She had no idea it cost so freakin' much to be subtle.

"I like the way you've toned down your makeup, too," Jolene said, quickly adding, "Not that it didn't look good before."

"Let's talk cut." LoriSue whipped out the folded page from a magazine and pointed. "That one."

Jolene's eyes bugged out. "But that's a layered shag! You've got a long page boy! This will take a lot of cutting, probably five inches on top!"

"I realize that," LoriSue snapped. "I'm going for the no-fuss, casual chic look-something classy and low-key. Something totally different."

"No shit," Jolene said under her breath. She put the magazine page on the surface of her styling station and smoothed it out. "I guess I can do something like that."

"Great." LoriSue was feeling more empowered by the minute.

"Now. What about color?" Jolene snapped the cape around LoriSue's neck and combed her fingers through the pale blond locks. "You said you wanted to go a couple shades darker than usual."

LoriSue spun around in the salon chair and looked Jolene right in the eye.

"I said I want to go back to my natural color."

Jolene's mouth fell open. "Uh," she said, looking worried. "I don't think I even know what your natural color is, LoriSue."

She probably wasn't exaggerating. Jolene had opened this shop ten years ago, and every four weeks, like clockwork, for a decade, she'd been helping LoriSue disguise the fact that she was born with a head of medium brown hair.

LoriSue sighed. "Then go get those sample hunks of dyed hair you have in the back and we'll figure something out. I want to get this over with. Oh, and don't forget my eyebrows."

"Why are we going to the lake, Mama?" Hank asked.

Matt yawned. "And how come you woke us up so early?"

Charlotte wasn't proud of herself, but after tossing and turning on the couch all night she'd greeted the day with a plan: avoid Joe at all costs.

So she'd called all the parents to pick up their boys by 9:00 a.m., packed the van with lunch and supper picnics, a change of clothes, rafts, beach blankets, towels, books, sunscreen, beach chairs, and drinks and snacks, then told the kids to put on their swimsuits and get in the car. They were going to Pike Lake for the day-the whole day.

"I just realized we haven't been in a while, that's all. I thought it would be a nice treat"

"I guess," Matt said, unconvinced "But I'm kinda sleepy."

"You can sleep in the sand."

The lake wasn't crowded, possibly because it was still early when they got there and many families didn't arrive until after church. Charlotte hadn't been to church since Kurt died, much to her parents' horror. The last longdistance conversation she'd had with her mother, which was several weeks ago now, had ended when she reminded Charlotte about the eternal fire pit of hell. She'd thanked her mother and hung up.

Charlotte took a deep breath of the mild morning air and smiled. This would be her church today-the soft roll of Ohio earth, the sun, and the happy voices of her kids.

From behind her gray-tinted sunglasses and from her comfortable perch in her beach chair, Charlotte watched Hank and Matt swim and splash. She wiggled her toes in the light brown sand. This lake would always remind her of Kurt. They had taken the kids here often. She could almost see him now, his burly body bursting through the water, roaring in his best impersonation of a grizzly bear, making the kids scream with delight.

She scanned the horizon of blue-green water and the uneven line of tall sycamores, maples, and oaks that rimmed the lake. There was no Kurt and there never would be again. Life was so much quieter without him.

How could she have ever wished him away?

By six, everyone was pink from the sun, worn-out, and waterlogged. Charlotte opened the cooler to pull out the food she'd packed for supper-rather limp-looking veggie roll-ups, fruit and flaxseed salad, and oatmeal-raisin bars-arid sighed. The resigned looks of suffering on Hank's and Matt's faces sealed the deal.

"We're going to Fritz's," she announced, slamming the cooler lid shut. Hank and Matt cheered and gave each other high fives.

They drove down the state highway to Fritz's Snack Shack and Driving Range, where they sat at an outdoor picnic table under the eaves and gorged on greasy fried cod and chicken planks, French fries, coleslaw, and soft drinks, the way they used to do when Kurt was alive. Then they played a round of cutthroat putt-putt.

At the fifteenth hole, the par three loop-to-loop space rocket, Matt curled his arm around Charlotte's waist and said, "Remember how Dad used to nail this one?"

What amazed Charlotte was that her son said it with a smile.

Both Hank and Matt fell asleep on the fifteen-minute drive home, which she felt like doing herself. The combination of lack of sleep the night before, the sun, and the heavy food was making her eyelids droop. She rolled down her window all the way for fresh air, then adjusted the mirror so she could see her children's faces* sated in sleep. They were such beautiful creatures. They were her whole life. She'd been blessed.

As the headlights arced past her in the twilight, she did the math. Hank had just turned eight. In ten years she'd be looking forward to starting her freshman year at college and Matt would be a junior. In ten years Charlotte would be forty-five.

And alone.

They arrived home late, and she had to drag the kids up to their beds, where they fell on top of their covers in their T-shirts and shorts, with sandy feet.

Charlotte took a quick shower, then went downstairs to let Hoover out for a tinkle. When she opened the double doors off the family room, she saw a piece of paper taped to the glass. She read it by the porch light:

Hope you all had a good day. I really missed you. -Joe.

The DEA field office was on Third Street in downtown Cincinnati, a city Joe had never seen firsthand and one he'd never really desired to see. It was surprisingly pretty, with hilly streets $nd restored vintage buildings tucked right next to modern steel and glass. The downtown was nestled against the Ohio River, surrounded by hills.

He spent the morning in meetings with Supervisor Rich Baum and his staff, his thoughts equally divided between Charlotte and the job at hand. The Cincinnati office did indeed have a mounting crystal meth problem and Joe was surprised by the numbers-six major busts in the last four months, three dead dealers, and two fatal overdoses in one area high school that had politicians and parents demanding answers. Joe was happy to help and gave them the benefit of his expertise, and by lunch he seemed to have told them everything he could.

Also by lunch, he'd relived Saturday at least three times in his head. He remembered each of Charlotte's touches. Her kisses. The sound of her laughter. The way she'd peeked around Hank's curls to smile at him across the campfire.

That's when it had hit him. He was nearly thirty-eight and had never been in love. It had never bothered him, up until that moment, seeing Charlotte with a child in her lap. Because that's when he realized that if he'd done things differently that day so long ago, if he'd only gotten the Miata's license glate number, he might have been looking at his own child cradled in her arms.

He hadn't been able to shake the thought since.

Rich Baum stayed behind as the conference room cleared out of agents, and chatted with Joe for a few minutes. Rich seemed nice enough and had a good reputation in the Administration.

"How's Dermont County treating you, Joe?"

Joe leaned back in the swivel chair and shrugged. "The hectic pace is killing me."

Rich laughed loudly. "I heard we could have a hell of a pool party at your digs-mind if a few of us single guys borrow the place one night?"

"Have at it."

Rich chuckled some more and cleared his throat, then fiddled with his pen. "Listen, Joe." He wasn't looking him in the eye. "I was talking with Roger the other day-"

"Uh-oh."

"And he wants me to send a couple agents into your neck of the woods a few times a week, just to put extra eyeballs on the situation."

He didn't like the sound of that. "What's up?"

"I'm sure you're fine, but-" Rich frowned. "Did Roger tell you Jay Mauk was murdered Friday?"

Jay Mauk had worked on the Guzman case with Joe and Steve out of the Albuquerque field office. He'd been a civilian computer engineer. Extremely bright. Jay was only twenty-three years old.

"No."

"Here. I printed this out for you."

Joe took the sheets of paper, incensed that Roger would keep this from him, feeling the black hole grow bigger in his chest as his hands began to shake. Jay Mauk had been a fucking kid. And by the looks of the report, the way he'd been murdered was pure Guzman-a drive-by in broad daylight, AK-47s out the car window, in front of a popular steak house. Albuquerque Police found a stolen Chevy a few blocks away and no sign of the suspects.

Joe folded the report and stuck it in his pants pocket.

"I'm right here if you should need anything," Rich said.

Joe left the offices and headed toward the parking garage, stopping at a newsstand on the way for a pack of bubble gum, pulling the brim of his Reds cap down over his sunglasses as he walked.

He felt the familiar nervous hum through his body, the cold fingers on the nape of his neck. And what amazed him most was the realization that he'd been living without this for a few weeks. He'd forgotten how the baseline fear coiled inside him, ate at him, emptied him of everything but a sharp awareness of his surroundings.

It had been nice while it lasted.

On the drive back to Minton, he thought of Jay Mauk and the million-dollar price on his own head. He told himself again that there was no way Guzman would ever link Special Agent Joe Bellacera of the Albuquerque DEA to the reclusive Joseph Mills of Minton, Ohio.

He told himself that it was still possible to get to know Charlotte and her kids without putting them in danger. It could be done. It had to be done, because he'd already told them he was staying.

Joe was still trying to convince himself of this when he arrived in Minton and saw the Kroger grocery store to his left. Since he'd found nothing in his refrigerator for breakfast that morning, he pulled into the parking lot.

For the time being he was still alive. And a man had to eat to live.

By one in the afternoon Charlotte had done everything listed on her Palm Pilot-picked up three separate dry-cleaning orders, dropped off a chair cushion at the upholstery repair shop, taken a cat to the vet, and finished the weekly grocery shopping and meal planning for three families.

She still had to stop at the grocery for her own family and figured she had just enough time to get a few things and get home by two, leaving an hour to do her Tae Bo tape before she had to pick up the kids.

Then the evening rush would begin. On tonight's agenda: ballet class and Matt's game.

Charlotte was in the frozen food aisle when she felt it-someone was watching her. She glanced around, saw no one, and tried to shrug off the uncomfortable buzz that coursed through her. She didn't often feel unsafe in her life-harried and exhausted, yes, but not in any danger. But right then, goose bumps covered her arms, and she didn't think they were from the freezers.

Charlotte rounded the corner and locked wheels with Joe.

He'd obviously been absorbed in thought, his brow deeply furrowed and his eyes lowered. The instant she smashed into him, his face lightened, his eyes widened, and his goatee spread with the force of his broad, chipped, impossibly sexy smile.

"Hey, Charlotte."

How strange-it was like he really didn't expect to see her. But if it hadn't been Joe watching her, then who was?

"Hey, Joe."

But Joe's gaze had never once caused her that feeling of discomfort. When Joe looked at her, she felt hot and soft and sexy-and guilty, of course-but never scared.

Charlotte told herself she'd worry about it later and went on to more important matters, like scrutinizing the contents of Joe's shopping cart. She had to admit it could have been worse-a lot worse. Nothing too heinous that she could see, just fresh fruits and vegetables, a frozen cheese pizza, yogurt, a taco dinner kit, coffee, bagels, cereal, chicken breasts. Not bad for a guy living by himself.

She noticed him checking out her cart and stiffened in embarrassment at the three cans of squirt cheese balanced on top.

"Wild party tonight?"

Charlotte didn't like the teasing in his voice or the way his eyebrows arched, as if he knew something she didn't

"No," she said. "I mean, yes. For the kids."

"I see."

"Well, I need to get going." She tried to disentangle her wheels from his, but they kept turning into each other. It seemed she couldn't even go grocery shopping without this man disturbing her peace of mind.

"I was hoping I'd get to see you yesterday. Did you and the kids have plans after all?" Joe nonchalantly reached down and straightened one of her wheels, then backed away, leaving the carts separated. He was always so cool and collected-he never seemed ruffled.

"No. Yes. We went to a lake we like."

Joe nodded. Then he crossed his arms and leaned forward on the handle of the shopping cart and smiled at her. "Is it possible you're having second thoughts, Charlotte?"

"What?" she huffed, turning her cart so that she could pass by him. She really needed to get home* "Of course I'm not. I just need to do my kickboxing video before the kids get home from school, so I guess I'll catch you later." She smiled at him in a way she hoped conveyed assertive flirtatiousness. "Have a nice afternoon.".

"I do a little boxing myself," he said as she passed by.

"I know. I saw. I'll-'? It dawned on Charlotte that the only reason she knew he boxed was because she'd spied on him with binoculars. She closed her eyes and prayed he wouldn't catch that little detail.

"How do you know I box?" he asked, now turning his cart and rolling right along next to her toward the checkout. "I never told you I was a boxer."

"Hmm." Charlotte started to load her groceries on the belt, knowing she was a terrible liar and always had been and wasn't going to get out of this unscathed. She tried for something close to the truth. "I heard you punching over there one night. At least I assumed it was a punching bag. It sounded like one."

"Wanna come over and hit the bags with me tonight?"

Her arm stopped its movement, a box of Kashi hung in midair over the checkout belt. Eventually she set it down. "I don't think that's a good idea, Joe."

"Oh. So you did have a change of heart."

She grabbed a box of tabbouleh mix and threw it on the belt, laughing softly. "And if I did?"

She watched Joe nod and compress his lips, as if carefully considering her question. He straightened to his full height and looked down at Charlotte with eyes that intrigued her, challenged her, and basically sexed her up. She started to breathe fast.

"Then I'd change it right back, dumplin'."

Oh, how wrong LoriSue had been-Joe Mills wasn't as hot as a Chippendales dancer. He was much, much, much hotter. And the way he was toying with her had the flames shooting higher than ever.

Charlotte hoisted up a mesh bag of organic navel oranges and studied him, noting that the playful gleam in his eyes was being replaced by a scorching stare.

She gulped.

"If you stay…" Charlotte set down a package of dry White Northern beans and tried to keep eye contact with him. "What happens if you're like those potato chips, and I can't eat just one?"

Joe's mouth twitched. He rested his elbows on the shopping cart "That's all right with me."

"What if I have to have some every day?"

"No problem."

"What if I-"

"Do you have your preferred shopper card today, ma'am?"

Charlotte whirled around to the checkout girl, and handed her the card with trembling fingers.

That sure took long enough, Jimmy thought, watching Charlotte exit through the automatic doors and push her cart into the parking lot. He wondered why the lovebirds had arranged a rendezvous at Kroger's when they lived right next door to each other. Maybe they already needed a little something to liven things up. Maybe they had one of those kinky preferences for doing it in public places.

Jimmy was admiring Charlotte's ass as she unloaded her groceries into the minivan-much like he'd done in the frozen foods section moments before-when his eye caught Joe Mills coming out the door. The guy made him sick. He hated men with earrings. He couldn't see why some women-like Charlotte and the entire office staff at Sell-More, including his own friggin' wife!-would find that appealing.

Charlotte drove off, never even glancing at Joe. Ha! At least she'd waved to him that morning in front of school. Jimmy found comfort in that.

He climbed out of his Excursion and headed over to earring man and his shiny little Mustang. Jimmy hated little cars. He'd take a big-ass SUV any day, one that could take a Mustang like it was a speed bump in the church parking lot.

"Well, good morning, Joe!" Jimmy was a good-sized man, so it annoyed him that he had to look up a few inches to meet Joe's eye. He saw a flicker of surprise in Joe's face.

"Hello. Jimmy, right? LoriSue's husband?"

Jimmy thought, Fuck you, but just smiled.

"Hey, Justin's a great kid. I got to know him the other day at the campout."

Well. Wasn't that a smooth way of letting him know he'd spent the night in Charlotte's bed? Jimmy sniggered a little and shook his head, knowing an outright challenge when he heard one. Was this just Joe's way of letting him know that LoriSue was next?

"Good to know you're enjoying yourself here in Minton-getting real comfy, it sounds like."

Joe finished placing the last of his grocery bags in the trunk of his gigolo mobile and shot him a look that any man with a background in athletics would recognize as an outright physical challenge.

"It's a nice town."

"Stay away from both of them."

Joe looked so innocent. Jimmy guessed that made him a gigolo and an actor. Those poor women never stood a chance.

"Who would that be, Jimmy? Are you talking about Justin?"

"I'm talking about Charlotte and my wife, you loser. Mess with them and you're messing with me-Jim Bettmyer. Got it?"

"Excuse me just a moment." Joe pushed his cart down the row of cars and gave it a push into the cart exchange lane. Then he walked back, got out his car keys, and said, "I'm sorry, Jim, but I need to be heading back. I think you might be jumping to some inaccurate conclusions."

"The hell I am." Jimmy took a step closer to Joe and put his index finger in the man's solar plexus. He felt Joe's body flinch-he also felt some real solid abs and he had to give the man credit where it was due, but they weren't here to discuss his workout regimen. They were here to decide who got the women.

"LoriSue is still my wife, so back off. And Charlotte and I have had a relationship for many years, and she is not available. So your little fun ends right here, right now. You feel me?"

He watched Joe's face empty of all expression, and frankly, it spooked him. It was scary to see a man turn into a stone statue right before your eyes. Then, without a word, Joe got in his car and drove off.

Jimmy shook his head. What a total psycho case. Just because somebody lived in a nice house in a nice neighborhood didn't mean shit these days. There were psychos everywhere.

He looked at his watch and cursed-he was late for his Rotary Club meeting.

Bonnie sensed that things were moving fast with Joe. She just didn't know how fast. At the campout, she'd seen the way Charlotte and Joe looked at each other. Oh, they'd been perfectly polite. And it made the attraction between them all the more obvious. It zinged around like an electrical storm. It was pulled as tight as a tension wire between them.

They wanted each other-bad.

And now, as Bonnie watched Charlotte zoom around the kitchen the way she did nearly every afternoon, she looked for telltale signs that it was too late to do anything to stop it.

But Charlotte didn't seem particularly relaxed or dreamy eyed. She wasn't sighing without provocation. She wasn't looking off into space. In fact, Charlotte seemed a tad snippy.

"How's your day been, honey?"

"Same ole shit, Bon." Charlotte blew a strand of hair away from her face. "Shit to do for my clients. Shit to buy at the grocery. Shit to do around the house. You know- shit that's supposed to be upstairs is downstairs. Shit that's supposed to be downstairs is upstairs. Shit that's supposed to be cooked is frozen. Shit that's supposed to be clean is dirty. Same old shit."

Bonnie had never heard Charlotte say the word shit in all the time she'd known her-and she'd just said it nine times without taking a breath.

Interesting.

The family room door flew open; "I'm hungry, Mama," Hank said.

"You've already had your snack. Go back outside and play."

"But I'm starving!"

"No, you are clearly not starving, Hank. You can wait for dinner, which will be in about an hour. Now go back outside with Justin and Matt."

"But Justin and Matt are out riding their bikes and I don't have anybody to play with."

Charlotte tossed the carrot peeler into the stainless-steel sink with a loud sigh. "Then go ride with them."

"But they rode into town and we're not allowed to ride into town."

"They did what?"

"Uh-oh."

"How many times have I told that kid not to ride into town without telling me first?" Charlotte massaged her forehead. "Just come on inside and read."

"I don't have anything to read."

"You have an entire bookshelf full of books, Hank."

"But-"

"That's it!" Charlotte jogged around the kitchen counter and whipped open the doors. "Out! Now! Get some fresh air! I'll call you when dinner's ready."

She ushered a miserable Hank outside, then slammed the door.

Nope. Charlotte hadn't been laid yet.

Ned had been right, of course. Bonnie wasn't withholding any actual information from Charlotte about Joe, because she had no information to give. Not until tomorrow, at least, when Ned got the results from the fingerprint analysis. Bonnie wanted Ned to be right-she wanted Joe to be a good man, a man worthy of Charlotte.

"So what happened Saturday after we left? Did Joe stay?"

Charlotte stood at the stove, her back to Bonnie. "For a while. We sat outside and talked."

"That's it? Just talked?"

Charlotte spun around, and that's when Bonnie saw the confusion in her young friend's face. It nearly crushed her heart

"Honey, are you okay?"

"No!"

Charlotte flung her elbows down on the butcher block and hid her head in her arms. Bonnie rose from her seat at the table and rubbed her shoulders.

"What is it?"

"Can we go into the other room for a minute?"

Charlotte stalked off into the living room without waiting for an answer, and Bonnie was fully aware that the last little chat they'd had in that room was the one when Charlotte first told her about Joe.

What would it be this time?

They got comfortable on the sofa and Bonnie felt Charlotte reach out for her hand.

"I can't hold back any longer." Charlotte looked at Bonnie with wide, damp eyes. "But I'm trying to figure out if there's a way to balance it all, my life as a mom and a provider with… a little… I don't know-"

"Passion?" Bonnie patted her hand.

"Yeah. That."

"A love affair?"

Charlotte nodded.

"Wild sex?"

A moan escaped Charlotte's lips.

"You know, honey, it's possible to have both a life and a sex life."

Charlotte shook her head sadly and whispered, "I wouldn't know, Bon."

That was a bit of a surprise, and Bonnie straightened up on the couch and patted Charlotte's hand some more. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Charlotte nodded, cast her eyes downward, and cleared her throat. "I've never told anyone this, so bear with me, but the thing is that with Kurt, I always felt like I was abnormal, too interested in sex, too, uh-"

"Horny?"

Charlotte's eyes went huge. "I guess."

Kurt had always struck Bonnie as a nice combination of maleness and sweetness. Granted, she'd never wondered much about the Taskers' sex life, but as she sat there with Charlotte now, she wracked her brain for a time when she might have noticed the two were having trouble in their marriage. She couldn't think of one.

"So you weren't happy sexually?"

"Not at all."

"And you thought it was your fault?"

Charlotte nodded, and Bonnie watched her fight hard not to cry. She reached out and stroked Charlotte's hair, feeling the pain radiate from her small body. The things we put ourselves through! "And you felt guilty for what happened with Joe?"

Charlotte turned away from Bonnie's hand and buried her face in her palms. Bonnie watched her thin shoulders shake, knowing there was nothing at all she could do except be a good listener. She waited a few moments and then said, "Honey. You need to get this out and get on with your life."

Charlotte's shoulders stopped shaking. She looked up at Bonnie with a determined nod. "Except for the times I was trying to get pregnant, Kurt would have been perfectly happy making love about once a month. And when we did, it was so damn predictable and polite and over so quickly that I hardly even knew I'd had sex."

She'd asked for the details, Bonnie reminded herself.

"And when I told him what I really wanted-things I'd had that one time with Joe-he was appalled. Embarrassed. A little worried about me."

"Good Lord, Charlotte."

"So I went through my whole marriage thinking I was a pervert because I wanted him to smack my butt and talk dirty to me. Am I a pervert?"

Bonnie felt herself experiencing the hot flashes she thought she'd left behind five years before. "Uh, no."

"He was just so shy about sex-wouldn't talk to me about it-and one day he caught me… he caught me…" Charlotte flew off the couch and started pacing. "I've always kept this journal of erotic poetry-things that pop into my head at the oddest times that I just can't keep locked inside. Some of it is very hot."

She looked to Bonnie for a sign she should continue, so Bonnie managed a nod. She tried not to look too astonished as she kept thinking, Charlotte writes erotic poetry?

"Well, one day he caught me with my journal and… well, I was touching myself. He freaked. He picked up my journal, read a few lines of what I'd written, told me he was afraid for me, and walked out of the bedroom. He wouldn't talk to me about it."

"Oh, Charlotte-"

"After about three days, I left him a note in his briefcase. The note said that I really needed to talk to him about my sexual frustration and how lonely I was for him. I told him I wanted to talk to him about my poetry. I told him I loved him and I wanted desperately to share the sexual part of myself with him.".

Bonnie hardly dared ask. "What happened?"

"He never acknowledged the note. He never said a word to me about it."

Bonnie couldn't help it-her mouth fell open. "Oh, my God, honey. Are you sure he got it?"

"I'm sure. He always got the notes I left him in his briefcase."

"And when was this?"

Charlotte shrugged. "About three years ago. Hank was five. I didn't know what to do, Bon. I was scared that I wouldn't be able to love him anymore."

"Oh, sweetie." Bonnie got up from the couch and put her arms around Charlotte, aware for the first time how much pain her dear friend had been in and ashamed that she'd not seen past Charlotte's veneer of competency all these years. "I'm so sorry."

"Me, too," Charlotte said into Bonnie's shoulder.

"Did you try counseling?"

Charlotte shook her head. "He said he refused to talk about something so personal with a stranger."

"Even if it meant losing you?"

Charlotte pulled away from her embrace. "I never gave him that ultimatum. There were times I thought about leaving him, but all I had to do was look at Matt or Hank and that idea lasted about three seconds. But, Bonnie- can I tell you something?"

Charlotte's chin started to quiver and Bonnie felt her own tears coming. "Anything."

"I even fantasized that…" Charlotte broke loose with a sob, wrapped her arms around herself, and rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet until she could continue, and it rushed out of her in one long burst: "I fantasized that Kurt would die peacefully in his sleep, and I'd be free, and then he did die! Just like I imagined! And I know this isn't rational, but I thought maybe I was being punished for putting so much emphasis on sex. And, Bonnie-God!-this sounds so stupid when I say it out loud, but I have this fear that if I give in to Joe, give in to lust, something else awful is going to happen. I must sound nuts."

Charlotte sobbed again and Bonnie just barely got her onto the couch before she collapsed. She lay curled on her side and cried so hard, for so long, that Bonnie was afraid Hank would hear her.

Bonnie perched on the edge of the sofa, stroked Charlotte's arm, and told her to go ahead and cry-get it all out-and kept an eye on the door to make sure she had the privacy she needed.

When Charlotte's tears slowed, Bonnie rubbed her back and said, "It was not your fault that Kurt died."

Charlotte nodded in silence, her face still hidden in her arms.

"I don't think the universe sets out to punish any of us, sweetie. You're so young, with so much life ahead of you. Please don't be afraid to live it."