Page 54 of Love By The Falls

“I know. But you did it.”

“Am I doing the right thing, Jane? I keep asking myself that question and I don’t have an answer.”

“Honey, that’s parenting. We try our best, and sometimes we make good decisions and sometimes we make bad ones—but if we keep them safe, we can always fix the bad ones.”

“I hope you’re right, because some mistakes take years to fix.”

I stare at Jason as he watches Charlie. I haven’t seen him in years. I don’t know who he is anymore. Considering I thought he would stick by me through anything, I wonder if I ever really knew him.

14

Charlotte

My parents live on the other side of town. The homes are larger here, and they have a white picket fence and a willow tree out front with a swing hanging from the branch.

Austin, his brother Casey, Jane, and I all rode our bikes up and down this street until it was too dark to see two feet in front of us.

I pull into the driveway and Charlie gets out of the car and races to the front door before I can climb out.

My mom is waiting at the entrance with a plateful of chocolate chip cookies, still warm from the oven. Her white hair is perfectly styled in a chignon and her blue blouse matches her blue pants.

“Charlie, you’ve gotten so big. I hardly recognized you.”

Charlie stands up straighter. “Really?”

She nods. “Yup, and your shoulders are broader, too.”

She lays it on pretty thick, considering she saw him only three days ago, but Charlie’s loving every second of it.

“Is that Charlie and Charlotte?” my dad asks from the living room.

Mom rolls her eyes. “Yes, Greg. Who else would it be?”

Her smile returns quickly when Charlie grabs two cookies and takes a huge bite of one.

“Eat up, baby. I made them just for you.”

“Thanks,” Charlie says around a mouthful of crumbled cookie.

“I thought you said you made them for me?” my dad shouts.

“I said I made them for the special man in my life, darling.”

“Well, now, that was sneaky of you.”

My mother winks before she sets the plate down in the kitchen.

“How have you been, dear?”

I take my jacket off and drape it over one of the kitchen chairs. “Fine.” I pull out the chair to sit. “Just tired lately.”

“Mmm.” Mom puts her hand on my forehead. “You don’t feel feverish.”

“I’m not. Just exhausted.”

My father appears in the kitchen doorway. His gray sweater is a little askew, but his salt and pepper hair is perfectly combed. “Hey honey, how are you?”

“Can’t you see that she’s tired, Greg?”

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