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“I trust Marc. If his hunch is that Holloway is the real deal, then I think we should prepare ourselves for a battle.”
Fancy stared at Charlotte. Her eyes were as big as saucers.
“What’s wrong?” Charlotte asked. “Is there something on my face?” She began swiping blindly at her face.
Fancy shook her head. “No. It’s just that…the way you talk about Marc now. It seems like…maybe the two of you have something going on.”
“No!” Charlotte said in a raised voice. “Absolutely not. I wouldn’t do that to you or Case. I just wouldn’t.” Charlotte could hear the strain in her own voice. She was living proof of the saying ‘I think the lady doth protest too much.’ She had overreacted to Fancy’s statement and now she felt like an utter fool.
“Charlotte, if you do feel something for Marc it’s not a betrayal of me…or Case. I think Marc is a wonderful person. And Case…he loves you. He would never stand in the way of anything that might bring you happiness.”
Heat suffused Charlotte’s cheeks. She didn’t want to talk about this with Fancy or anyone else. She was a loyal sister. “There’s nothing romantic going on between us,” she said in a heated voice. “My feelings about Marc have changed dramatically, but we’re not dating or anything. He took me out for a bite to eat and we had a good time. It’s friendship, Fancy. Nothing more. And I would appreciate it if you didn’t mention anything about it to Case or the girls. I really don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.”
“Sure thing,” Fancy murmured. “I didn’t mean to upset you. You deserve to be happy, Charlotte. If Marc might be an option, then I advise you to follow that path. Life is too short for petty grudges or vendettas.”
Charlotte offered Fancy a stiff smile and said, “Thanks. I better get to work. I have a lot of calls to make.” She felt Fancy’s eyes on her as she walked down the corridor and toward her office. For the first time in ages, Charlotte felt like a huge liar. She hadn’t told Fancy the truth. Not one bit. Marc Cabron was very much the object of Charlotte’s affections. Her feelings for him weren’t shallow or insignificant. They went against all common sense and defied all the rules she’d imposed upon herself about loyalty to her brother. And it was making her downright miserable.
Tears misted in Charlotte’s eyes. She would just have to do what she’d done so many times before. Stuff her feelings down and pretend as if everything was picture perfect in her world. Something told her this time would be absolutely brutal.
* * *
Later that evening, Charlotte was sitting in front of her television idly watching a mystery series from the BBC Channel. The Pennyfeather Mysteries. For the life of her, Charlotte couldn’t figure out the convoluted plot. And she could barely understand the heavy English accent of the extremely attractive star. But he was great eye candy, Charlotte thought as she threw a handful of popcorn into her mouth.
The buzzing of her cell phone caused her to knit her brows together. It was almost ten o’clock at night. It was a rare occasion that she received a call at this time of night. A quick glance at her caller ID caused her to frown. She didn’t recognize the number popping up on her screen. With a sigh she picked up the call, praying it wasn’t a telemarketer. If it was, she would surely give them a piece of her mind.
As soon as she answered, the hysterical voice on the other end of the line made her pulse quicken. It took her a minute to recognize who it was—Angela Weeks—one of the teens from th
e Youth Center. Angela was only sixteen years old and almost thirty-nine weeks pregnant. From what Charlotte could understand from her garbled voice, Angela was in labor. She was asking for Charlotte to come to the hospital.
“Angela. Put one of the counselors on the phone so I don’t worry about you until I can make it to the hospital.”
A few seconds later one of the counselors took over the call. “It’s Paula. We’re here at the hospital, Charlotte. She was just examined by the nurse and she’s almost seven centimeters dilated. They’re telling her she can’t really have an epidural or any pain medication so she’s taking it hard. She really wants you to be here so I’d hurry if I were you.”
“No worries. I just need to pull on a pair of sweatpants. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Charlotte ended the call and raced to pull on some clothes. She dragged a comb through her hair and grabbed her purse and keys from her chaise longue.
Charlotte made a quick path to her car in the driveway, roaring away from the Duvall estate as if the devil himself was chasing her.
Please, Lord. Let me make it to the hospital on time to be with Angela. I know how much she needs me during this momentous moment in her life. She really doesn’t have anybody else to be her birth coach.
Charlotte reached Savannah Hospital in ten minutes flat. Thankfully, she had hit all green lights on her way from home. As soon as she parked her car in the lot she raced inside, desperate to find labor and delivery. When she was finally steered toward Angela’s room, she anxiously pushed her way inside, not sure what she would find on the other side. Angela was breathing deeply in and out. Paula was standing at her side, trying desperately to calm the expectant mother down. Angela’s eyes widened when she spotted Charlotte.
“Thank God you’re here,” Angela cried out. She reached out her hand to Charlotte, who swiftly made it to her side. “I didn’t want to push too much. I was afraid you would miss it.”
“I’m here,” Charlotte said in a firm, reassuring voice. “And I’m not going anywhere, Angela. You’re about to give the world a brand new angel. Your baby girl is about to arrive in to this world.”
Angela tightly gripped Charlotte’s hand.
“I’ll get out of your hair.” Paula—clearly overwhelmed by the unfolding situation—took several steps backward and left the room with an awkward wave.
“Don’t leave me,” Angela pleaded. Her brown eyes beseeched Charlotte. The desperation in Angela’s voice made her want to cry, but she wouldn’t do so in front of the young teen. How could her family have turned their backs on their own child? She couldn’t imagine how alone and frightened Angela must have felt when they kicked her out of their home.
“I’m with you. Now let’s focus on your breathing,” Charlotte coaxed. She was trying to keep her voice even and calm.
Angela began to breathe deeply in and out. Sweat dotted her forehead. Her chest heaved up and down.
“It’s time to start pushing, Angela,” the nurse said. “You’ve held out long enough.”
For the next twenty minutes Charlotte felt as if she was watching a miracle unfold. As she held Angela’s hand and acted as her cheerleader, Angela sobbed and shouted and pushed and persevered. At five minutes past eleven, her baby was born.
