A Chance for Charity

a novel

 

© 2025 by S.W. Blayde

All Rights Reserved

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

 

BOOKS by S.W. Blayde

Sexual Awakening

erotic romance murder-mystery

Steele Justice

erotic thriller (Lincoln Steele book 1)

High School Massacre

erotic thriller/mystery (Lincoln Steele book 2)

Death of a Hero

erotic thriller (Lincoln Steele book 3)

The Breeder

erotic western/romance

Conflicted Nun

erotic romance

Last Kiss

romance mystery

Lonely War Widows

erotic historical fiction/romance

The Nymphomaniac

erotic coming of age/romance

A Chance for Charity

erotic underdog triumph/romance

 

Chapter 1

I was an accident.

Those aren't my words, but the words repeatedly said to and around me by my family for eighteen years. My entire life. My mother, my father, and especially my older brother had told me and everyone we knew that I was an accident. But only my brother had said it with animosity.

My parents had met late in life. Finding love for the first time, they desperately wanted a child, but the doctors had warned that at their advanced ages, especially with my father's sperm count and quantity decreasing, they shouldn't expect my mother to conceive. But they had kept trying. Filled with hope. Or was it faith? You see, I once overheard my mother tell a friend in confidence that whenever my father ejaculated, while still inside her, she would lock her legs around him to hold him there while she closed her eyes and prayed for a child.

So when my mother's prayers had been answered, her becoming pregnant with my brother, they considered it a miracle. They named him Matthew, from the Hebrew version of that name meaning "Gift from God." They doted over him, and spoiled him, like grandparents. And why not? They had mirrored their friends who were grandparents.

So you can imagine my parents' surprise when I came along ten years later. That's right, "surprise," not "joy." I wasn't a miracle. I was an accident. No biblical name was bestowed upon me. To my chagrin, one of their friends had commented, "What was the chance you guys would have another baby?" So my parents saddled me with the name Chance. Chance Mann. I guess it could have been worse. What if their friend had said, "What are the odds?" Would my name be Odd Mann? Maybe that name would have fit. At events where my elderly parents attended, like parent-teacher conferences, I did feel odd.

It wasn't that my parents hadn't loved me. They were simply too old to have a toddler and then a teenager. My biggest nemesis, however, was my ten-year-older brother. He had been accustomed to being their sole pride and joy. Spoiled rotten. And then I came along. To Matthew, I was getting most of our parents' attention. He resented me for that. I guess that was understandable for a ten-year-old, but it continued to this day. So I grew up with a bully brother and parents too old to provide the support and nurturing I needed.

My elderly parents hadn't had the desire or energy to take me to soccer or little league. And their friends' children weren't my age. They were the parents of the kids my age. So in my early years when parents invited the children of other parents to their kids' birthday parties, I was overlooked and left out. The friendships kids made at those parties and at things like little league formed the relationships they grew up with. I wasn't part of that.

It hadn't helped that I had to take a semester off from high school when my father had a stroke. My mother couldn't take care of him alone. Needing a cane to walk, she wasn't even strong enough to help him in and out of a chair. Thank God I hadn't been required to bathe him. My mother could at least do that, although I had to help my father's naked body in and out of the bathtub. Yuck. My brother's wife, Charity, offered to help, but my bastard brother objected, claiming she was needed at home. I believed he had done that to make me drop out of school. When he had learned that my father recovered well enough for me to miss only one semester, his face became so red and the blood vessels at his temples bulged so much I thought he was going to have an aneurysm.

To Charity's credit, she had snuck out at times to help with my father. She was probably my closest friend. That might seem odd, but at twenty-one, she was closer to my age than my twenty-eight-year-old brother's. And I didn't really have any friends.

I spent a lot of time alone.

I was smart, but not a nerd. I wasn't gawky and afraid to talk to girls. I simply gravitated to the sanctuary of my bedroom, reading, studying, and investigating the world around me through the internet. My social life suffered, but I became a whiz on computers. After helping a few people clean their computers of viruses, word of mouth got me an abundance of calls that led me to start a consulting business while still in high school. It began with the viruses, but I branched out to help set up computers for people and then small businesses which expanded into networking, security, and their websites.

And now at eighteen, about to finally graduate high school, my parents were feeble with early signs of dementia. Although living at home, I was mostly on my own with a promising consulting business that I was ready to grow after graduation.

I was finishing my homework when a soft knock on my bedroom door disturbed me. As I looked up, the door opened and I saw my mother's frail body holding onto the door jamb. Her pride caused her to leave her cane in her bedroom most of the time.

"Chance, honey, your brother called."

"So what?"

"He needs your help."

"Why didn't he call me?"

"I don't know. He called me about something else and while we were talking he asked me to tell you that he has one of those virus thingies on his computer and needs your help."

"Again? He's an idiot!"

"Chance, he's your brother. Don't call him that. He just doesn't know as much as you do about computers."

"It has nothing to do with computers. It's because he clicks on things he shouldn't."

"I don't know what that means, but that's what I mean. He doesn't know as much as you. So will you run over there and fix his problem?" When I didn't move, she said, "Do it for me."

"Okay, Mom, I'll do it for you."

I pushed out of my chair and, with slumped shoulders, trudged toward the doorway where my mother was still holding onto the door jamb. I stopped to briefly study her. She looked older and more frail each day. What was going to happen to her and my father when I graduated and moved out? Deep down I knew I couldn't leave them. But I needed to get out on my own. The answer was a nursing home where they would be cared for. But the few times I had hinted at that my mother got furious, claiming she and my father could manage on their own. My asshole brother was no help. He sided with them because they weren't a burden on him and the cost would have drained our inheritance. So that made me look like the asshole. As I walked past my mother, she squeezed my arm and thanked me again.

My brother's house was a short drive which is why Charity had been able to help from time to time. The only good thing my brother had ever done for me was to marry Charity. I enjoyed being with her and hoped that some day I would find someone as nice and pretty as her. As I stood on my brother's porch, the typical tightness filled my gut waiting for my bully brother. It went away as soon as the front door opened and Charity stood there in gray sweat pants and black sweatshirt. Her Nordic blonde hair looked even lighter against the blackness of the sweatshirt. It hung loosely over her shoulders to her bra strap. Her green eyes lit up when she recognized me.

"Chance, what are you doing here?"

"Matt called my mother. Said he needed my help on the computer."

"Oh, he's not here."

That was so typical of my brother. Dump a problem on me and leave.

"Okay, tell him to call me when he gets back," I said.

Panic filled Charity's face and she grabbed my forearm. "No, no, come in. If he called, he'll get angry if it's not fixed."

"So let him."

"Please, he'll take it out on me," Charity said as her bottom lip quivered and her eyes watered.

"What do you mean?"

"Please, just fix his problem. Do it for me."

That's what my mother had said. How come all the people I cared about asked me to help my brother for them?

"Okay, let's go," I said.

"You know where the computer is. His office."

"I'd like the company."

"I'm not allowed in there."

"What! It's your house too!"

"It's his private room. He wants it that way."

"Asshole!" I muttered under my breath, but the look on Charity's face told me that she had heard me. She didn't let on, though, not saying anything. Charity waited with her clasped hands hanging in front of her, shifting from foot to foot.

"Okay, for you," I said with an emphasis on the "you."

The warm smile that brightened Charity's face was all the compensation I needed. I went into my bother's office. It didn't take long to unlock the computer and remove the virus. I decided to snoop around his history to discover where the virus might have come from. It was porn site after porn site, most with the women being mistreated. Either the women in the pictures were great actresses or their abuse was real. Their faces were filled with fear and pain and anger. My older brother was more than a bully. He was a sick fuck. And then I came upon one where the bile came up from my belly. I almost threw up.

"Oh fuck!" I shouted.

"What's the matter?" Charity asked.

I spun around to see her standing just outside the office. I guess she had been watching me. Her face was pale, her eyes wide, her mouth gaping. I quickly shut off the computer, praying she hadn't seen the screen. From her angle, she couldn't have. I stood and walked up to her.

"All done," I said, trying to control my voice, but it shook.

"What's the matter? Why did you curse?"

"Oh, just something I saw."

Charity's fair complexion turned pink. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Was it me?"

"You? No, of course not. I wasn't going through Matt's photos."

"Okay then." She was chewing on her bottom lip.

"Charity, is there anything you want to tell me?"

"I think you better leave."

"Okay. But if you ever want to talk, I'm here."

She headed to the front door so I followed. Charity opened the door and then kissed me on the cheek, saying, "Thank you," before dashing away, disappearing into a room at the back of the house. I left with my hand pressed to my cheek from the unexpectant kiss.

 

Chapter 2

It was Saturday night so I should have been on a date. That's what the typical high school senior did. But after a quiet dinner with my parents, I was in my bedroom working on an intriguing problem a local laundromat had with their website. It wasn't one I had built, and the design was a mess, so I was tempted to recreate it from scratch, but my customer asked me to fix what they had. The customer was always right. Right? Not really, but I was just starting out, so yeah.

"Honey," my mother's sweet voice came from behind me, "Matt has another problem with his computer."

I spun around with my teeth clenched, furious at my asshole brother, but my face softened when I saw my mother standing in the doorway. It wasn't her fault. She stood hunched over with both hands resting on the cane in front of her to support her weight or maybe just to keep her balance. That didn't surprise me. She had looked extra tired during dinner.

"I was just over there the other day," I said. "I wish he'd call me instead of bothering you."

"He didn't call. Charity did."

All of a sudden I was interested in helping. "Charity's having a problem?"

"No, no, it's Matt. But she's the one who called. Please, honey, do it for—"

"Yeah, for you!" I shouted. Then I lowered my voice. "I'm sorry, Mom, didn't mean to yell. I was just in the middle of something. I'll go right over there."

"Thank you. What would we do without you?"

I cringed at the thought of what would happen to my parents without me. I drove to my brother's house and this time wasn't surprised when Charity opened the door.

"Don't tell me," I said, my voice oozing sarcasm, "Matt's not here."

Charity's eyes dropped and then bounced back up. They were red. "No, I called."

"I know, my mother told me. So now Matt's having you do the calling, huh? Okay, where is he?"

"He's not home. I—"

"Yeah, yeah, he told you to tell me that he needs me to fix his computer. So what's the problem this—?"

"His computer isn't broken."

"What! Then why did he call me?"

"I called you."

"I mean why did he tell you to call me?"

"He didn't. He doesn't know I called."

I was speechless. That was unexpected. I stood gawking at Charity with my mouth hanging open.

"Chance," Charity said, "I didn't call for you to fix Matt's computer. I wanted to talk to you."

"We could have talked on the phone. Why'd you call my mother? Why didn't you just call me?"

"Matt checks my phone for calls and texts. I couldn't call you."

"What do you mean he checks your phone? He shouldn't do that."

"Never mind that. Please come in, I need someone to talk to."

I entered the house and studied Charity as I waited. She wore a red, short-sleeved knit top and blue jeans. Charity closed the door and walked to the family room. I followed. When she pointed to the end of the couch, I sat down. To my surprise, she sat right next to me, so close that her thigh pressed against mine. I waited for her to begin, but she sat with her head lowered staring at her hands clasped in her lap.

I waited.

Without looking at me, Charity took my hand. But the big surprise was that she leaned forward and lifted my arm over her shoulders and snuggled the side of her face on my chest. The top of her head was under my chin. Her shampoo had a strawberry scent.

I waited.

"Do you know that today is Valentine's Day?" Charity asked out of the blue.

"Um, no."

"Do you know where Matt is?"

I didn't know how to answer that.

"He's at a strip club," Charity said. "On Valentine's Day."

"How do you know?"

"He told me."

Charity sniffled a few times into my chest. I was at a loss, not having great social skills.

"Why did you call me?" I asked. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I needed to be held. Just hold me."

"Okay."

Charity placed her hand on my belly beneath her chin. We sat like that for a while, me holding her and her quietly sobbing on my chest. To comfort her, I began stroking her arm.

Charity purred. "That's nice. Don't stop."

We sat like that for a while with her face buried in my chest, her hand on my belly, and me caressing the bare arm from her elbow to her shirt sleeve. From time to time she would shift or wiggle, like finding a more comfortable position in a pillow. The sniffling stopped, but she continued to lay against me.

"You don't like your brother, " Charity said without looking up.

My hand stopped moving. "Why do you say that?"

"I can tell. Why don't you like Matt?"

I hesitated before saying, "It's complicated."

"It's because he's mean to you." When I didn't answer, she said, "He's mean to me, too."

"He is? How?"

"You first," Charity said.

When I didn't say anything, Charity pulled out from under my arm and twisted around so that she was facing me more. Her eyes were redder than when she had answered the door and her cheeks were shiny. She stared at me and waited.

"When I was around six," I said, "Matt was with me in the playground. My mother had fallen asleep on the bench but I guess she had thought that was okay because Matt was sixteen. I don't remember where my father was. Anyway, I was on the merry-go-round. You know, that round flat thing that you sit or stand on that has railings to hold onto. Well, Matt was spinning it. It was fun until he went too fast. I screamed for him to slow down, but all he did was laugh and went faster. He used all his strength to spin it as fast as he could. I couldn't hold on and went flying. My arm was in a cast for six months."

"Maybe it was an accident," Charity said.

"He did it on purpose."

"How do you know?"

"Because he did other stuff, too. I can't tell you how many times he made me cry. And that was when I was little. When I got older, he got meaner."

Charity cuddled up to me like before with the side of her face on my chest and her hand on my belly. "Matt makes me cry too," she said.

I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her to me. She moaned and ground her face into my chest. The sniffles returned.

"What does Matt do to you?" I asked.

Charity sucked in a loud sniffle and then said, "I don't want to talk about it. I just want to be held. I want to feel loved."

I held her until her sobs got softer and then asked, "Why did you marry Matt?"

"I thought I loved him."

"But you don't now?"

Charity hesitated before saying, "I don't think I ever did. Did you know I grew up in foster homes?"

"No, Matt said your parents were dead."

"I have no idea who my parents are or if they're alive. I was dropped off at a fire station when I was born and ended up in the foster care system. I'm sure you noticed my extra pinky on my right hand. No one wanted to adopt a freak, a baby with eleven fingers. It got worse when I got older. People wanted a baby, not a pre-teen, and surely not a teenager. When I turned eighteen, I had to leave the foster care system. I took a lot of shitty jobs and then Matt came along. When he asked me to marry him, I jumped at it."

Charity lifted her head off my chest and stared at me through watery eyes. Placing her hand on my cheek, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to mine, and then cupped my other cheek to hold my face steady in both hands while we kissed. She pulled away after what must have been almost a full minute.

"Thank you," Charity said, staring into my eyes. "Now please hold me."

Charity rested her head once again on my chest, but this time she pulled her knees up and leaned more on me. I sat with both arms around my beautiful sister-in-law in awe. What was that kiss about? It wasn't a passionate kiss, no tongue, but it wasn't a sisterly kiss either.

I listened to her soft breathing and, when I stroked her arm, to her purring. The purring increased when I ran my fingers through her silky hair and on her back. She pulled her knees up higher and snuggled into me more.

I don't know how long we sat like that, but Charity finally ducked out from under my arms and sat up. Our eyes met. Hers looked pleading, but I didn't know what she wanted. Charity finally smiled and stood up.

"Thank you, Chance, that was just what the doctor ordered. I'm sorry I was being so silly. You better go now."

 

Chapter 3

High school graduation finally arrived. When the commencement ended, those in caps and gowns leaped from their seats and made a dash to their friends or family. I guess I was less enthusiastic as I stared at my parents sitting with Matt and Charity. On the warm May day, my brother wore old jeans and a black tee-shirt with a catchphrase on the front that bordered on obscenity. Real classy for a high school graduation so I wasn't anxious to be seen with him. But I was looking forward to being with Charity. Wearing a dark blue dress that stopped a few inches above her knees, she was better attired. With her sitting, the hem had risen higher displaying more of her bare thighs. I loved when she wore dark clothes because it showcased her Nordic blonde hair and fair complexion.

I hadn't spoken to Charity since Valentine's Day, although she had been on my mind a lot. I had wanted to call her, but with Matt checking her phone… The bastard! During those months, my parents had tried to get them to come over, but Matt had always complained that he was too busy. After what Charity had told me on Valentine's Day, "busy" for him must have been strip clubs. But my parents, especially my mother, never saw fault with their miracle child. He was a gift from God.

I was about to head over to them when Matt whispered something to my mother before grabbing Charity's wrist and yanking her out of the chair. While my parents remained seated, he dragged Charity behind him as he plowed through the crowd, pushing people aside like the bully he was. Soon we were face to face.

"So, twerp," Matt said with the strong smell of alcohol on his breath, "you finally graduated. Better late than never."

His sneer and evil chuckle told me all I needed to know about the hidden taunt. He wasn't congratulating me. He was rubbing in that I had missed a semester. The bastard!

"Yeah, congratulations," Charity said in her sweet voice with a smile that showed her dimples. I knew she meant it.

The smile was contagious so I returned it with a warm smile of my own. I noticed my brother's frown, but ignored it. Matt got on his toes and, stretching his back and neck, looked around like a rotating periscope of a submerged submarine before slinking back down and setting his eyes back on me. The smirk returned causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand.

"So how come no one's congratulating you?" Matt asked with a smirk.

"Like who?"

"Like friends or…" he paused for effect, "…girls."

I glanced at Charity whose eyes darted away. Unlike my parents, she knew by brother well. But Matt had scored points and he knew it. Probably from my expression or that I didn't have a comeback.

Matt flung an arm over Charity's shoulders and pulled her against him. "Girls like my sexy wife here. Think you'll ever get a piece of ass like Charity? Think you're man enough to get someone like her?"

"He is," Charity blurted out. "Chance can probably get any girl he wants."

Matt's face turned bright red and his blood vessels bulged at his temples. I noticed his fingers tightening on Charity's shoulder. She winced.

"So if you think the twerp is so hot," Matt said to Charity, "why don't you give him a congratulations kiss."

When she didn't move, he shoved her right in front of me.

"Go on, give him a kiss!" Matt said with drunken scorn.

Charity's eyes, filled with humiliation, watered as she stared at me. She gave me a peck on the cheek.

"That's a grandma kiss," Matt said too loudly. "Go on, give the twerp a real kiss."

"Matt, I don't—"

SMACK!

The sting of Matt's hand on Charity's butt cut off her words. She winced and clamped her teeth, but she didn't say anything. I was about to when she cupped my face in both hands and pressed her lips to mine. She kissed me like she had on Valentine's Day.

Matt grabbed a clump of her blonde hair and yanked her head back.

"That's enough!" Matt shouted.

He was standing behind Charity, glaring at me from over her shoulder. The smirk reappeared on his face a moment before he reached around her and cupped her crotch, pressing into it so hard the material of her dress clearly showed the shape of her thighs and the gap between them. Charity latched onto his forearm with both hands. She strained to pull his hand away, but didn't have the strength. Her face was contorted and red, either from her struggle or embarrassment. Probably both.

"You got a kiss," Matt said, "but you'll never get pussy like this."

He then grabbed Charity's arm and dragged her away. I stood there in shock watching her stumbling behind him as they disappeared into the crowd. Then I made my way to my parents. My mother's chin was on her chest and she was snoring softly. My father was looking around with an expression I had seen too many times lately.

"Dad, you okay?" I asked.

My father stared at me. I expected him to ask me who I was.

"Where's Mathew?" my father asked. "It's his graduation."

"No, Dad, it's my graduation." I got that stare again. "It's me, Chance. This is my graduation."

My mother lifted her head and turned toward me. Her face lit up. "Oh, Chance, I'm so proud of you. Where's Matthew?"

"He said he had to go."

"Oh, too bad." She turned to my dad. "Walter, did you congratulate Chance?"

"Who?"

"Chance, dear. Our son."

"Matthew?"

"No, our youngest. Come on, let's go out to lunch like we planned even if it's only the three of us."

Thankfully, by the time we got to the restaurant my father was lucid again. We had a nice lunch, although through it, I couldn't stop staring at my father. His memory lapses were occurring more frequently and I wondered how soon it would be before he forgot that he had two sons. That I existed.

It was a relief not to have my bully brother at lunch, but I missed Charity. It had been months since I spoke to her. And the kiss my brother had forced her to give me brought back memories of the last time I had seen her. She had seemed so despondent at the time, so vulnerable. The moment had been monumental. Not the kiss, but her opening up to me. Well, the kiss too, but I wanted to know more about her childhood. It seemed worse than mine. She had survived it only to be stuck with my brother. I remembered the websites I had found in his browser's history. What kind of sick monster was Charity living with? I needed to talk to her, but how?

When we got home, my parents decided to take a nap. I rummaged through my mother's pocketbook and took out her iPhone. Of course I knew the passcode so I went to Favorites and dialed Charity.

"Hello, Mom," Charity said.

"No, it's me… Chance."

"Chance!" she shouted in a whisper. "Oh god! Don't call me."

The phone went dead. What was that about? I called from my mother's phone so if Matt checked it would look normal. Mom and Charity spoke. I was going to call back, but I couldn't. Her voice had been filled with panic, dread. Had the kiss bothered her? Was there now something between us?

I sulked the rest of the day and all day Sunday. My bully brother found so many ways to make my life miserable. By Sunday night, I made up my mind. I couldn't call Charity, but with Matt at work Monday, I would be able to talk to her in person.

 

Chapter 4

Having rung Matt's doorbell several times, I stood on his front porch with shoulders slumped. I had purposely come when my brother would be at work, but hadn't considered Charity not being home. Out of desperation, I rang it again. I sighed remembering that Einstein's definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. I turned to go home and took a step.

The door opened.

I spun around.

Charity gasped when she saw me. One hand flew to the side of her face near her left eye. She stood frozen like that for a few seconds until she snapped out of her shock and shoved the door with her other hand. Instinctively, my hand shot up and stopped the door from closing. When Charity threw her body against the back of the door, I slammed my shoulder into the front. The door swung inward, sending Charity stumbling backward and me into the house.

Charity wore her comfy gray sweatpants and a pink sweatshirt. Odd for the warm day. I was wearing a thin tee-shirt and jeans. We stared at each other for a moment and then her hand zipped back to the side of her face. I walked up to her and pulled her hand down. The side of her face and around her eye were black and blue. She quickly jerked her hand free and once again covered the bruises.

"What happened to your face?" I asked.

"It's nothing. Just bumped— What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk to—"

My mouth snapped shut. With her hand pressed to the side of her face, the stretched out long sweatshirt sleeve had slid down, exposing marks on her wrist.

"Oh, my god," I said, "what happened to your wrist?"

Charity grabbed her exposed wrist with her other hand. That caused the other sleeve to uncover a similar bruise on that wrist. Charity spotted it and she looked as if I had shown a spotlight on her. She flayed her arms trying to cover her face and wrists. In her panic, it looked like she was swatting a swarm of bees. With no luck, she squealed, spun around, and made a dash for the stairs leading to the upstairs bedrooms. Without thinking, I bolted after her. Soon my arms were around her waist, pulling her against me.

"Ow!" Charity cried out.

I hadn't meant to hurt her. Actually, I didn't know how I had hurt her. All I had done was grab her to stop her from running. But when she cried out, my arms flew off her as if she had burned them. Now free, Charity ran again. I lunged with the speed of a striking rattlesnake and caught her in both arms. She cried out again, but this time I didn't release her. I held her tightly against my body. She sobbed and groaned. I was hurting her so I had to let her go.

I latched onto one of Charity's hands and spun her around. She tried to pull free, but didn't have the strength. The tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked everywhere other than my face. She finally stopped struggling.

"Please go," Charity said in a meek voice that I could barely hear.

"I'm not leaving until you tell me what happened."

"Just go."

"No! What happened to your face?"

"I fell."

"Bullshit!" I lifted the hand I was holding so that her wrist was in front of her face. "What about this?"

Charity grimaced when I raised her arm. She grabbed her shoulder with her free hand as her face contorted in agony. I immediately released her hand and watched her rub the shoulder. The tears that had stopped were once again flowing down her cheeks as she sobbed. But she didn't run. She looked defeated. I gawked, not knowing what to do.

"Did I hurt you?" I asked.

"Just go," she said between sobs.

Filled with guilt, I asked, "Charity, did I hurt your shoulder?"

She stared at me through glossy eyes, but didn't say anything. She lowered her head and shook it. I walked up to her, placed two fingers under her chin, and tilted her head up. Her eyes were pleading. I didn't know if they wanted me to go or something else so I stood still.

Charity studied my face and then she wrapped her arms around me and pressed the side of her face against my chest. Her body heaved with her sobs. I placed my hand on her back as gently as I could. Everywhere else I had touched her seemed to have given her pain. She didn't grimace. Didn't flinch. Didn't groan. She purred as her face pressed more into me and her arms tightened around me. I carefully placed my other hand on her back, locking the two of us in a tight embrace.

We stood like that, with Charity sobbing into my chest and clutching the back of my tee-shirt in her fists. My hands remained unmoving on her back, fearful of hurting her, but after a while one hand slid upward under her loose hair and onto the back of her neck where I caressed it. Charity purred.

"Why won't you just go?" Charity said into my chest.

"Because I care about you."

The silence that followed that admission was deafening, and then Charity said, "I told you how I was brought up. That made me strong. I don't need anyone to care about me."

"I don't want to find out you broke your arm falling off a merry-go-round."

Charity pulled her head back and stared into my eyes. "What merry-go-round?"

"I wasn't being literal. I meant…" I paused, not knowing how to say it properly. "I know Matt is a bully. I saw some of the websites he visited. I know what he's done to me my whole life. Those marks on your wrists are rope burns, right?"

Charity looked down. There was more silence. After a while, she nodded.

"So he tied you up," I said. It wasn't a question.

Charity nodded again.

"How'd you hurt your shoulder?"

"Matt yanked my arm above my head to tie it to the bedpost. He did it hard."

"And the other bruises?"

"He beat me and…" Charity looked up and stared at me. Shame filled her eyes. She looked back down. "He spanked me," she said, again in that meek voice. "There, are you happy?"

"Why would I be happy?"

She cupped my groin, held it for a moment, and then pulled her hand away as she took a couple of steps back.

"I'm sorry," Charity said, "I expected you to be hard."

"Why?"

"Because that's what turns guys on. So when I told you that Matt tied me up and spanked me…"

When she didn't finish, I said, "That didn't turn me on. I'm not my brother."

A fresh tear fell from Charity's left eye. "I know you're not. I'm sorry. Will you go now?"

"Do you really want me to go?"

Charity's bottom lip and chin quivered and tears now fell from both eyes. She ran up to me, hugging me once again, clutching the back of my shirt in tight fists as if she would fall if she let go.

"No," she said softly.

I gently wrapped my arms around her. We stood like that, rocking side to side as if we were slow dancing. She felt so good to hold. So warm. So soft.

"Aren't you hot in those sweats?" I asked.

"They're loose fitting."

"But it's not cold."

"When you rang the bell, I wasn't wearing anything because, you know, because it hurt when I put clothes on. So when I had to answer the door, I put this on. It's soft and loose. It doesn't hurt."

My arms loosened. "Am I hurting you?"

"No, don't let go."

After a few minutes of hugging, Charity asked, "Are you gay?"

My breath caught. Where did that come from?

"No, why?" I asked.

"You never have a girlfriend. And…"

I waited, but she didn't finish. "And what?"

"Never mind."

"What were you going to say?"

"It's not important. Do you think I'm pretty?"

"You're gorgeous."

"That's what I mean. Why weren't you hard when I touched you?"

"I told you, I'm not like my brother. Spanking you didn't turn me on."

"Yeah, but either did my hand."

"Well, I wasn't expecting that and, well, I was sort of in shock." I released a nervous chuckle. "If you would have kept your hand there I would have gotten hard."

"I wish I had," Charity said more to herself than me.

We stood like that for a while, swaying in a silent dance. Her arms around me, my arms around her. The side of her face snuggled on my chest, our bodies pressed together. Rocking side to side. The strawberry scent of her shampoo made me sniff harder. The warmth of her body heated mine. I listened to her soft breathing and occasional purr.

"Did you hear what I said before?" Charity asked out of the blue.

"About what?"

"That I had nothing on when you rang the bell. I'm naked underneath these sweats."

"No, um, I—"

"You don't feel a bra strap, do you? I'm completely naked underneath."

My hands automatically glided over Charity's back. No bra strap, only the bumps of her spine. And then her swaying changed when she rubbed her braless tits against me.

I was so consumed with the feel of her tits on my body that I didn't notice one of her hands on my back moving. Before I knew it, her hand was between us, once again cupping my groin. This time it lingered with the heel of her palm pressing into my hard-on.

When she pulled her hand away, Charity said, "Thank you."

"Thank, um, what?" I stuttered.

Charity giggled. "For getting hard. Thank you for seeing me as a woman." She giggled again. "And for not being gay."

"Do you want to sit and talk?" I asked.

Charity pulled away and turned her back to me. With her left hand, she lifted the hem of her pink sweatshirt around six inches. Then, looking over her right shoulder, she shoved the thumb of her right hand into the waistband of her sweatpants at her right hip and dragged it down, exposing most of her right buttock and even the butt crack. No panties, but that wasn't what she was showing me. Purplish blue stripes about the width of a leather belt covered the buttock. She yanked her sweatpants back up while I was admiring the roundness and firmness of a beautiful butt marred by the stripes.

"It hurts to sit," Charity said. "I've been sitting on my pillow."

"Matt did that! Why?"

"Because of the kiss I gave you at graduation. Imagine if he knew that I kissed you like I did on Valentine's Day? If it was anyone but you, I would have told him. Just for spite. But I know how he is and I didn't want him to hurt you."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

"What?"

"The kiss on Valentine's Day."

"What about it?"

"I, um, I wanted to make sure you were okay with it."

Charity's smile lit up the room. "I was more than okay with it. I masturbated like crazy that night thinking about it. About you."

"You did?"

Charity blushed. "Oh, maybe I shouldn't have told you that. But remember why I told you to come over? I needed to be held. It was Valentine's Day and Matt left me alone to go to a strip club. You made me feel loved when you held me. Matt hasn't held me like that in forever. I'm not sure he ever did."

"Then why did you marry him?"

"I told you why. I was out of foster care with no future. Matt was nice to me back then so I saw him as my savior."

"But when you learned who he really was, why did you stay?"

"Where would I go? And for the first time in my life I had a real family. Your parents and you are my family. I know you all love me. The way I was brought up left some doubts, but when you held me on Valentine's Day I was sure. That's why I kissed you. And that's why I got aroused and had to take care of it later that night. So don't think you did anything wrong that day. For me, it was the right thing to do."

"I wish I could do more," I said.

Charity stepped up to me and gazed into my eyes. She cupped my cheek in her palm and slid her thumb the length of my lips. Then she leaned in and placed her lips on mine. Keeping her hand on my cheek, her other hand went to the back of my head. We were once again kissing like we had on Valentine's Day. It was soft, tender, loving.

It was all happening so fast that I didn't know what to do with my hands. My arms were hanging at my sides while we kissed so I placed my hands on Charity's hips. She grimaced and her lips went quiet. I realized my extended fingers were sinking into the sides of her butt where the stripes were. My hands shot up like two missiles, stopping on her lower back.

Charity's lips, now active again, brushed mine with a side to side movement. And then the tip of her tongue joined her lips, sliding over my lips, caressing them, moistening them. The tip of my tongue came out like the head of a turtle coming out of its shell. It contacted hers, sending a shiver up my spine. Her lips parted and my tongue followed hers into her mouth. This was no kiss like on Valentine's Day. We French kissed with tilted heads moving in passion, lips crushed. I hadn't kissed many girls, but none of them like this. And I had never wanted to kiss any other girl like this.

With my hands on her lower back, I pulled Charity to me. Her hand left my cheek. I thought I had done something wrong until she wrapped her arms around my body and pulled me against her. I felt her breasts flatten, knowing the only thing between them and me was my thin tee-shirt and her sweatshirt. One of my hands slid up from her lower back to between her shoulder blades and pulled, squishing her breasts against me even more. Charity moaned into my mouth as our tongues frantically flapped against one another's.

But when Charity trapped my thigh between her legs and humped it, she immediately broke away from the kiss and backed away. Her face and neck were flushed all the way to the collar of her sweatshirt. Her shoulders rose and fell with deep pants through parted lips. Glassy eyes stared at me almost as if they were looking through me.

"You better go," Charity said between pants.

She turned and dashed away.

As Charity climbed the stairs, I gazed at the butt I knew was bare inside the sweatpants. With each step, that side of the worn material stretched over her naked buttock, molding it. In my mind, I saw through the material at the soft, pale flesh I had seen for a brief moment earlier. I imagined it without the stripes, only pale flesh.

At the top of the stairs, Charity disappeared. I realized I was panting, and I had the hardest erection I could remember.

I went home and locked myself in my bedroom where I lay on my bed naked. I masturbated, reliving her lips on mine, her tongue on mine, what her naked buttock looked like, and how her braless breasts felt against me. I exploded while imagining Charity masturbating at the same time thinking about it as well.

 

Chapter 5

The next day, I awoke worried about what had happened with Charity. As soon as I was sure Matt would be at work, I rushed over to his house. Charity and I needed to talk. So many unanswered questions lingered. Or did I just want to see her? I couldn't get her out of my mind.

I rang Charity's doorbell and waited. Like the previous day, it went unanswered. Was it for the same reason? Yesterday she had been naked so it took time to put clothing on her bruised body. Was she naked now? I kept ringing, imagining her running around the house naked.

My eye caught movement in the window to my left. The closed drape had moved. Or had it? I pressed the doorbell three times in succession, keeping my focus on the living room drape. It didn't move, and the door went unanswered. Was she even home? Too bad there were no windows on her garage to see if Charity's car was there?

About to ring the doorbell again, my arm dropped to my side. If Charity wasn't home, the door would not be answered. If she was home and she didn't want to see me, there was nothing I could do about it. I dejectedly returned to my car and drove home.

Matt wasn't the only one who worked. With high school in my rear view mirror, I had a business to run. I removed a virus on a customer's laptop and then worked on the website I was building for a local business. But my mind kept drifting to Charity. Like after Valentine's Day, I was worried that I had done something wrong.

I replayed what had happened the prior day. I surely had embarrassed Charity, making her confess that my brother tied her up and spanked her. What grown woman wanted to admit to being spanked like a child? Tied up no less. How humiliating. I thought back to the websites I had seen on Matt's browser history. What if he did some of those things to Charity? I couldn't recall if I had told Charity about the websites but, if he did those things to her and she knew I knew, or even assumed I knew, how could she ever face me? Her shame must be unbearable.

And what about the kiss? It eclipsed the one on Valentine's Day. More passionate. Had I gone too far by putting my tongue into her mouth? It wasn't as if I had forced it. Hers came out first. And she had seemed to welcome my tongue. Even encouraged it. But why? Had I caught her in a vulnerable state and therefore taken advantage? Maybe she had realized it and that's why she sent me away so suddenly and ran upstairs. Had she run away from me? And now she wasn't answering the door. I'm sure she had peeked through the drapes and saw that it was me. The only explanation I could come up with was that she didn't want to see me.

Believing that Charity didn't want to see me affected me more than I would have thought. I had liked her since the first time I met her. Who wouldn't? She was sweet and nice and kind. And beautiful. I had always known that she was beautiful, but had liked Charity as a person and then a friend. Over time, however, my feelings for her had evolved. Not that I had known that before Valentine's Day. When I had seen how dejected Charity was when my asshole brother had left her alone on Valentine's Day, I felt sorry for her and wanted to comfort her. That led to the Valentine's Day kiss. That kiss had been confusing, but there was more to yesterday's kiss and embrace than comforting her like on Valentine's Day. It had been passionate, bodies pressed together, tongues touching. More than touching. Frantic. And then last night, while alone in my bedroom, I had been consumed with unbridled lust. I had jerked off thinking about my brother's wife. The shame of doing that was killing me.

And now Charity wouldn't answer her door when I very much needed to speak to her about it. What was our relationship? In-laws? Friends? More? It couldn't be more. She was married. To my brother no less. But I thought I wanted it to be more. My brother didn't deserve her. He didn't treat her right. I was confused about my feelings for Charity. At eighteen years old, I never had a girlfriend. I didn't understand my feelings and had no one to go for help. Only Charity. But she didn't want to talk to me.

I looked at my computer screen. What the hell had I been working on? I buried my face in my hands and shook my head. I couldn't get any work done. Not until I cleared my head of Charity. I got up and followed the noise of the television until I was standing in the living room. My father was in his chair with his chin on his chest, eyes closed, breathing softly. My mother was on the couch in the same position, although snoring. I found her cell phone, brought it to my bedroom, and dialed Charity.

Charity's sweet voice answered. "Hi, Mom."

"Where are you?" I blurted out.

"Chance?"

"Yes. Where are you?"

"Home. Why?"

"Why didn't you answer the door when I came to see you?"

The silence on the other end told me a lot.

"You knew it was me," I shouted. "I saw you peeking through the drapes."

"Chance, I'm so sorry. I just couldn't face you. Please don't call me. I'm begging you."

She hung up.

 

Chapter 6

I was parked at the curb, slouched low in the driver's seat. Not to hide my presence, but to keep the rising sun reflecting in the rear view mirror from blinding me. The street was bustling with people coming out of their houses in bathrobes to retrieve newspapers, all looking sleepy. As I fought to keep my heavy eyelids from drooping, I knew the feeling. It was early, too early for me to be out of bed, let alone parked down the block from my brother's house.

Not being able to get Charity out of my mind, I hadn't gotten much work done yesterday and spent a restless night in bed tossing and turning. I was up before the sun and now my stomach reminded me that I hadn't fed it. I craved a cookie or some potato chips. Anything to silence the rumbling in my belly.

I was engrossed on watching Matt's garage when…

"Hey, are you stalking me?"

I flinched and bolted upright. Spinning around, I stared through my rolled down driver's window. I stared at the girl standing next to my car. With her silky black hair pulled back off her face in a ponytail, she smiled at me. Even without makeup, she was stunning.

"Amber?" I asked, confused.

Amber Stone and I had been in several classes together, but I had never seen her dressed in black nylon running shorts and a black sports bra that showed a firm abdomen and plenty of tanned skin.

"Are you stalking me?" Amber asked.

"No. Why, uh, why would you say that?"

"You're sitting in front of my house."

My head spun to the house I was parked in front of and then I turned back to her. "You live here?"

This time Amber's smile showed more teeth. "As if you didn't know."

"I didn't. I had no idea."

Amber pouted. "So you're not stalking me?"

"No, I didn't know you lived here."

"Then what are you doing in front of my house?"

Her eyes were twinkling. Playful. Dear I say teasing? Flirting?

"I, um, I was waiting for my brother. That's his house over there." I pointed to Matt's house.

"Your brother lives on my block? No shit. So why aren't you waiting in front of his house?"

Damn! Now what?

"It's complicated," I said.

Amber gave me that great smile again. "You'll have to tell me about it someday, but now I need to do my morning run. Don't be a stranger now that you know where I live."

Amber flashed another smile before dashing off. I watched her ponytail swing side to side and her cute butt bounce atop her long, slim legs. Had she just asked me to call her? Amber Stone? The wet dream of every boy that had been in my high school?

I watched Amber until she turned into a tiny dot and disappeared, and then I scooted down in my seat as my attention returned to my brother's garage. I was no longer thinking about my missing breakfast. Amber's face, smile, bright eyes, and firm figure with a lot of skin showing lingered in my mind.

There he is! I thought.

I slouched down further, this time not to be seen. My brother's black Toyota truck emerged from his garage and backed up the driveway. It entered the road, paused, and then the red taillights went off as it sped away.

With my brother heading to work, I straightened up in the car seat. The sun had risen enough that the glare in the mirror was no longer bothering me. With my gaze still on my brother's garage, I now constantly checked my watch. What time did Charity get up? I knew she didn't work, but I had never asked if she got up with Matt. Knowing my bully brother, he probably demanded that she make him breakfast. But did she go back to sleep afterward? I would wait a while longer, keeping my eyes locked on the garage door in case her car came out.

Time crawled.

About twenty minutes after Matt had left, my patience ran out. I got out of my car and marched the fifty yards to the front of Matt's house. Standing at the front door, I waited. Did I really want to do this? What was I going to say? What did I want to hear Charity say? I stood there for a good minute or two, half of the time turning to leave and the other half raising my finger to the doorbell only to drop it to my side.

I rang the doorbell three times in quick succession and then scooted to the left to stand in front of the living room window. I waited. And waited. About to go back to the front door to ring the doorbell again, the drapes parted and I saw Charity's eye and part of her nose and cheek. The drape quickly closed.

I tapped on the glass with my knuckles. "I saw you," I said loud enough for her to hear. When the drape didn't move or the door didn't opened, I knocked on the glass harder. Still nothing.

"Charity, let me in," I shouted.

Nothing.

"If you don't let me in I'm going to call your cell phone and then Matt will know I called you. Do you want that?"

The door opened sooner than I would have thought possible. It was only a crack and Charity glared at me from the small opening.

"Don't," Charity said. "If you care about me, please don't."

The door slammed shut. I hadn't even had time to move. I stood there stunned. I knew I would never forget the terrified look on Charity's face.

"Did Matt hit you again?" I shouted at the closed door.

"Go away! Leave me alone!"

"I want to talk to you."

"No, you can't. Please, if you care anything about me, just leave. I'm begging you."

I stood there not knowing what else to say or do. Dejected, I trudged back to my car and leaned against the front fender with my hands on my thighs and my head hung. Amber sprinted on the sidewalk and stopped next to me. I looked up to see her face glistening with sweat, some loose hairs sticking to her forehead, and her shoulders rising and falling with each deep breath as she gulped in air.

"You still here?" Amber asked, rhetorically between heavy breaths. "What happened with your brother?"

Lowering my head, I said, "She didn't want to talk to me."

"She?"

My head shot up. "Um, my brother's wife. My brother isn't home."

"So what the hell were you doing—? Oh yeah, it's complicated. Hey, you're good with computers, right?"

I nodded. "I actually have a computer business."

"So no college?"

"No."

"I'm going this fall and I could use your help with my laptop."

"What's wrong?"

"Don't know. It's slow so something is wrong. Could you help me? I need it fixed before school."

"Sure."

"Great! Come on in! I'll show it to you."

Amber grabbed my hand and I stumbled after her as she dragged me to her front door. She pulled me inside and slammed the door.

"Mom," Amber shouted, "I'm taking a friend to my room."

She didn't wait for an answer, not that I heard one. Once again, I was dragged behind her as she ran up the stairs. I was amazed at her energy after the strenuous morning run. I also admired her round butt in the loose nylon running shorts as I lagged behind. With each of her steps, the bottom swell of that buttock showed in the loose leg band of the shorts. Did girls wear panties underneath running shorts?

The next thing I knew, we were inside her bedroom. I looked at the unmade bed and instantly pictured her sleeping in it. Then I saw a discarded pink thong on the floor next to the bed. Was that what she had worn to bed? Or had she worn the thong all day and took it off to sleep nude?

"My laptop is on the desk," Amber said, bringing me out of my daydream. "The password is chuckchuck, one word, both U's capital. See if you can make it run faster. I'm gonna take a shower."

Amber dashed into the hall where I assumed the bathroom was, leaving me alone in her bedroom. I was tempted to pick up the thong and fondle it, but that would make me a perv. I plopped down on the chair at the desk and booted up the computer.

Soon I was immersed in the work. I found many ways to speed it up, but most of Amber's problems had to do with applications running in the background. I recognized them as malicious so I uninstalled them. I was finishing up defragmenting the hard drive when the bedroom door banged shut.

I jumped and spun around. My jaw dropped. Amber was wrapped in a large bath towel and nothing else, leaving the tops of her breasts and almost all of her legs exposed. If the towel was an inch or two shorter I was sure I'd see her pussy.

"So did you find anything?" Amber asked.

I swallowed hard. "Yes. It's running fast now."

Amber giggled. "You can put your tongue back in your mouth. I forgot to bring fresh clothes with me so…" she held her arms out to the sides, "…ta da."

I hoped the towel would unravel and slide down her nude body. It didn't.

"I didn't mean to embarrass you," Amber said.

"I, uh, I'm not embarrassed."

"Good. So let me see how it works now."

Amber walked up to me. I turned to face the computer ready to show her what I had done, but she leaned against my back and reached around me, tapping on the keys. Soon TikTok videos were playing, but I was concentrating on the feel of her breasts squished against my back and the smell of her scented soap.

"Yay! It's fast again!" Amber shouted and backed up. "Thanks so much."

When I stood up, Amber pressed her lips to mine. Her tongue poked my lips until I opened my mouth and then it entered, finding mine and flapping against it. She pulled away.

Amber tilted her head to the side. "How come you never asked me out in high school?"

"I don't know. I didn't date much."

She pressed her lips to mine again and wrapped her arms around me. Her tongue was once again active inside my mouth. But she quickly pulled away.

"You don't think I'm pretty, do you?" Amber asked with a pout.

"I think you're gorgeous."

"Then why aren't you reacting?" Amber's forehead furrowed and then her eyes opened wide. "Oh shit, you're gay!"

"I'm not gay."

"Then why—? Oh! My! God! You have a girlfriend." She smiled. "That's sweet that you are being faithful to her." Amber sighed deeply. "I wish you would have asked me out in high school. Guys I know cheat on their girlfriends." She tightened the towel that had loosened around herself and held it snug. "If you ever break up with her, give me a call. I'd love to go out with you."

Why did Amber think I had a girlfriend? I guess it was the way I had reacted to her kissing me. Actually, how I hadn't reacted. She was sexy and beautiful, almost naked, and coming on to me, so why had I reacted that way?

Only one explanation came to mind—Charity.

 

Chapter 7

As the days and then weeks passed, I was able to put Charity out of my mind more often. It helped that my expanding business and caring for my parents took a considerable amount of time and energy.

My mother no longer tried to get Matt and Charity to come over. It was as if they were no longer part of her world. Or maybe she didn't have the vitality. She had become a couch potato watching television all day and night, usually falling asleep most of the time. I even hired a housekeeper to tend to the house every other week.

My father was a bigger challenge. Or should I say burden. I arrived home one afternoon after meeting with a client and, sitting in my car watching the garage door open, I noticed my father wandering around the empty garage. I jumped from the car and ran to him.

"What are you doing in the garage?" I asked in a panic.

My father stared at me and then shouted, "Who are you? Where's my car?"

"Dad, it's me, Chance."

He shoved my hands off him with his feeble ones. "Get away from me. Where's my car?"

It took a while, but I eventually got him into the house and settled in his cushy chair. He gazed into space as I left him there. My mother, snoring on the couch, was oblivious to it all.

So I didn't have time to think of Charity. Not during the day anyway. At nighttime, when lying alone in bed staring up at the ceiling in the darkness, she was all I thought about. I was lonely. I considered calling Amber for a date, telling her that I had broken up with my girlfriend, but it was August and she would soon be leaving for college so why bother. I was also afraid I would react to her the same way I had that other time. I still had feelings for Charity that I wasn't sure I could hide.

And then everything changed on the fifth day of September.

It was a Wednesday. The bright midday sun flooded my bedroom with warmth as I clacked the keyboard. The room suddenly darkened. Out of nowhere, ominous black clouds streaked through the sky, turning daylight to nighttime. And then a jagged bolt of lightning flashed, followed by a thunderous boom. I quickly shut my computer down, rolled my chair back from the desk, and waited. Not for long. First there was soft pattering on the window, and soon large raindrops pelted the glass. With my hands clasped behind my neck, I gazed out the window. With each thunderous boom, I jumped. With each flash of lightning, I wondered how many customers would be calling me about fried data. Hopefully they had followed my backup directions, but I knew many would not have. Knowing I wasn't going to get any work done for a while, I went downstairs to eat lunch.

The television was on in the living room as usual. And, as usual, my mother was snoring on the couch with her chin on her chest and my father was sleeping in his cushy chair. But my father's position didn't look comfortable. His body was slumped to the side, partially hanging over the chair arm. He was sure to wake up with back pain and a stiff neck. I walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder to straighten him up. I then placed my other hand on the side of his face to support his head, to keep it from flopping.

I jerked my hands away. His skin was cold. I lifted his hand to check the pulse. There was none. I dropped his hand and jumped back.

I ran into the kitchen to call 911. The police said they would be over soon. I returned to the living room not knowing what to do with my mother. With one knee on the couch cushion, I positioned myself between her and my father and gently shook her.

"Mom, wake up."

Her eyes opened slowly. Disoriented, she looked around the room that was dark as night from the storm, the only light the glow from the television.

"Is it bedtime?" my mother asked.

"Mom, come into the kitchen."

"Oh, did I miss lunch? Is it time for dinner?"

"Let's go into the kitchen."

I assisted her to her feet and walked her in the opposite direction from my father. In the kitchen, I sat her on a chair at the table. I sat on the chair next to her and clasped both her hands in mine.

"Mom, it's Dad."

"If he doesn't want dinner he doesn't have to eat."

"Mom, listen to me. I have something bad to tell you. It's sad." I waited, but my mother didn't say anything. "Mom, it's Dad. He passed away. The police are coming."

She stared at me as if not understanding, and then her eyes watered and the tears rolled down her cheeks. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her to me, cupping the back of her head. She sobbed into my chest as I patted her back with my other hand until the police arrived.

A whirlwind of confusion followed. For me, anyway. The police methodically did their job. I spent most of the time comforting my mother and made sure she didn't see them wheel my father out on a gurney. And then all the commotion ended. Mom and I were alone.

Night had magically turned back to day. I looked through the kitchen window. The sun was bright and warm again as if the Angel of Death had momentarily passed over my house to take my father. But my concerns were more down to earth. I checked the time. It was past 2:00 p.m.

"Mom, would you like something to eat?"

"I'm not hungry."

I studied my mother. We were still sitting at the kitchen table, not having had said much all the time the police were there. I had spent most of that time holding my mother. She had spent most of the time sobbing. Her eyes were red, but had run out of tears. I had known my parents were old and that my father was slipping away, but I wasn't prepared for his dying. I hoped my mother was.

"Mom, what do you want to do now?"

"Go on, I guess."

"I mean about Dad. I don't know what to do."

My mother looked at me with the warm motherly eyes I had known my entire life. Having been an accident never meant I wasn't loved.

"Don't worry about it," Mom said. "We planned for this. We have cemetery plots and everything is paid for. We didn't want to be a burden on you or your brother." Her hand flew to her cheek. "Oh dear! You should call Matt."

Shit! Matt! I hadn't thought of him the whole time this trauma was happening. My family nucleus was Mom, Dad, and me. Matt wasn't part of it. Not for me. Charity had been, but no longer. That was her choice not mine. Ever since she had decided not to see me or talk to me, she was no longer part of my life. I hadn't thought about her for some time.

I stared at my mother staring back at me with imploring eyes. Matt was her first born. The miracle baby. Even though he brushed her off and rarely spoke or saw her, he was part of her life.

"Okay, Mom, but let me make you some tea first."

I put the tea kettle on and made some toast. My mother needed to eat. With a mug of tea and two slices of toast with jelly on it, I left my mother in the kitchen and went to my bedroom to make the dreaded call.

"What do you want?" my brother's irritated voice answered the phone call. "I'm working."

"It's about Dad."

"He's your fucking problem. Take care of whatev—"

"He's dead!" I shouted.

There was a moment of silence and then Matt said, "So?"

"So? Your father died."

"I thought he would years ago. So what about it? Call the police."

"I did. They took him away."

"What do you want from me?"

"Mom wanted me to call you but—" I gritted my teeth and clenched my free hand into a fist. "Fuck you!"

I ended the call and slammed my fist on the mattress. My body shook with rage. I didn't want my mother to see me like that so I waited in my bedroom, taking deep breaths to calm myself. My mother had been through enough today. I didn't need to add to her misery. I had done what she had asked. Called my brother. She didn't have to know how he had reacted.

It took a while, but I was finally able to go downstairs. My mother was where I had left her. Thankfully, she had eaten most of the jellied toast I had made her. When I noticed her mug was empty, I brought the kettle over and filled it. My mother immediately sipped from the steamy mug as I returned the kettle to the stove.

The doorbell rang.

How long had I been in my bedroom? Long enough for my brother to get to my house? The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Why had Matt come over? What did he want?

I trudged to the front door. The last person I wanted to see was my asshole brother. He hadn't even cared that our father had died. Was he going to upset my mother? What the hell did he want?

I opened the front door.

My jaw dropped as Charity flung herself into me and wrapped her arms around my neck.

"I'm so sorry," Charity said.

Stunned, my arms remained at my sides for a while, but then slowly rose to embrace Charity. We stood like that, her sobbing and me realizing how much I had missed her.

Charity tilted her head back and stared at me through watery eyes. "Mom called. I came right over."

"What about Matt?"

"I called him and told him I was coming here to be with your mother."

"He said okay?"

Charity hesitated before saying, "No, but I told him I was coming whether he liked it or not."

Charity's fists clutched the back of my shirt and squeezed as she laid the side of her face back on my chest. My arms tightened around her.

"I missed you," Charity said, softly.

My heart skipped a beat.

Charity had admitted to missing me. My arms automatically tightened around her, pulling her body against mine. We were standing with the front door wide open for anyone to see me hugging my sister-in-law like an in-law shouldn't. But I didn't care. I had Charity in my arms once again and never wanted to let go.

"Where's your mother?" Charity asked.

"In the kitchen."

Charity ducked under my embracing arms and sprinted to the kitchen. Once the shock of her leaving me alone sank in, I followed. Charity was standing in front of my seated mother with her arms around her. My mother was crying, her face buried in Charity's belly. Charity glanced over her shoulder when she heard me, but returned to whispering comforting words to my mother.

I watched them for a while with a desire to pull Charity away from my mother and hold her in my arms. To feel her warm, soft body against mine. To kiss her. But I couldn't. My mother needed Charity. I was glad she had called her. And glad Charity had come over. Although in the back of my mind, I worried about the consequences of that. What would Matt do to Charity? She had disobeyed him. Another spanking?

I left the two most important women in my life in the kitchen and went to my bedroom to get some work done. Yeah right. As if I was going to do work. My father had just died and my mother was upset. But I had to go somewhere to hide. Charity was in the house and I realized how much I wanted her. I didn't trust myself to be around her.

It was dark when I heard the shouting. I rushed downstairs to the living room where the commotion was. My brother held Charity by the arm, shaking her, yelling at her. She kept trying to pull free, but he was too strong. My poor mother, sitting silently on the couch, looked confused.

"What's going on?" I asked.

My brother glowered at me. "It's between me and my wife."

"Mom called her. She needed Charity."

"Well, I need her too and she's my wife. We're leaving."

"Mom," Charity said, "are you all ri—?"

Charity's mouth snapped shut and her face grimaced. She grabbed Matt's hand that was latched onto her forearm. I saw how tightly he was squeezing.

"She's fine," Matt said, "let's go."

My brother dragged a stumbling Charity out of the living room. The front door slammed behind them. I plopped down next to my mother.

"You okay?" I asked her.

"Why was Matt mad?"

"I don't know. That's the way he is."

"I don't understand. First your dad…" she choked up, "and now Matt's acting crazy." My mother buried her face in her hands. "What's going to happen to me?"

I draped an arm over my mother's shoulders and pulled her into my chest. "We'll be okay. We have each other."

 

Chapter 8

Three days later, I was standing next to my mother at my father's gravesite. My last living aunt stood on her other side. As my mother and her sister cried and hugged and spoke to each other, I stared at the coffin that would soon be entombed for eternity. I wanted a last glimpse of my father, or at least the box he was lying in, before it would be out of sight forever. It had been an open casket service so I knew exactly what my father looked like beneath the now sealed wooden lid.

A commotion drew my eyes away from my father. Matt staggered toward us with Charity in tow. His tie knot was pulled away from his neck showing that his shirt's top button was undone. One front shirttail hung out of his pants behind his flapping sports coat. I had seen him like that too many times. Drunk. And it wasn't yet noon. When he reached us, my bully brother shoved me aside and took my place next to my mother. When I regrouped, I was standing beside Charity. In slurred speech, Matt told my mother he was late because Charity hadn't been ready on time. Charity lowered her head and whimpered so I knew it wasn't true. He was blaming her so that my mother wouldn't think badly of him. Typical. He had gotten away with that for as long as I could remember, usually unjustly blaming me.