Carry the Light (19 page)

“Did you want us to stop and pick anything up while we're out?” Daniel asked.

“If you wouldn't mind, I need a couple of boxes of tissue. Charlene knows what brand I like.”

“Fair enough,” Daniel replied, and nodded to Charlene. “I'll get the car and meet you out front.”

“I just need to grab a jacket,” Charlene said before he slipped out the door. “We won't be long,” Charlene promised her aunt. As she was heading out of the kitchen, she heard her aunt call out to her, and turned around. “Yes?”

“Splash a little toilet water on before you go, and don't forget to make a fuss over Daniel for helping you.”

Charlene laughed and hurried to get her jacket. But she did pause long enough to dab a little perfume behind her ears before she left the house.

C
harlene stared at the seven plain brown cardboard boxes that Daniel had carried into her showroom from next door. The largest was big enough to hold a television; the smallest was maybe the size of a toaster. There was nothing written on any of the cartons, except the name of her store. They had to have been hand delivered, although Andy Johnson had offered no information about who might have dropped them off.

When Daniel set the last box down, he shook his head in answer to her question about whether Andy had revealed anything regarding this one. “Not really,” Daniel reported. “His best guess is that you volunteered to serve on some committee that was collecting donated items and just forgot about it.”

“Volunteer? At the busiest time of the year for me? No way,” Charlene replied, and stepped closer to the boxes to study the handwriting again. “Some of these boxes look like they came from the same place. See? Look, the handwriting is the same,” she said, pointing.

Daniel pushed the two boxes labeled in orange marker together while she picked up the smallest box, which had been addressed in turquoise ink. They organized the boxes into four groups. “Now what?” he asked.

“I guess we open them.”

Growing excited, Charlene hesitated, just like she did on Christmas morning when deciding which gift to open first. “This one,” she said, and pointed to a small box sitting by itself.

After Daniel sliced through the packing tape with a knife, she lifted the flaps and immediately caught the aroma of chocolate. Inside, on top of individually wrapped chocolate chicks and bunnies, she found a handwritten note. Her fingers trembled as she opened it and read out loud:

“What's Twin Treats?” Daniel asked.

Overwhelmed by the twin sisters' thoughtfulness and generosity, she blinked back tears. “It's a little candy store in Mount Ephraim, just a few miles from here,” she replied and shook her head. “I met them at the candy convention last year, but we never did get together again like we said we would. I can't believe they did this for me. From what they told me, their store doesn't do nearly the business I do at Sweet Stuff. They must have sent half of their inventory to me.”

“Then they didn't send any of the other boxes?” he asked.

“I don't think so. Let's open the others to see if there's more candy and other notes,” she suggested.

Excited now, she worked in tandem with her husband. Once he opened a box, she checked inside for a note while he moved on to the next. When they were finished, she was almost dazed by the assortment of Easter candy that filled each box. She looked at the two notes in her hand and the one Daniel held. She couldn't imagine how word had spread and how these caring people had responded so quickly. All the notes contained messages similar to the Calder sisters', and Charlene's heart filled with awe and gratitude.

“One note is from Joe and Hazel Welsh. They own Aunt Celia's Chocolate Boutique in Philadelphia. The other note is from Janice Mueller. Her candy store is in Collmont. Here. Take a look at these while I read the note you have,” she suggested.

“It's from somebody named Lisa or Linda something. I can't make out the signature. Maybe you can,” he said.

Charlene glanced at the signature and recognized it immediately. “It's Lisa Ashe. The first time I went to the candy convention, Lisa took me under her wing. We've been friendly ever since, although I haven't spoken to her in six weeks,” she explained.

While Daniel read the notes she had handed to him, she read Lisa's message:

While Charlene wiped away more tears, Daniel finished reading the other notes and handed them back to her. “All this candy came from your competitors?” he asked.

Pressing the notes to her heart, she nodded. “Selling candy can be very competitive, but for the most part, many of the small store owners I've met feel a lot like I do about their stores, although I'm sure they probably turn a greater profit at year's end than I do. We offer more than candy to our customers,” she explained, hoping he would understand. “Some folks who stop into Sweet Stuff just need a place to warm up from the cold outside, or want someone to listen to their problems. Other folks are just plain lonely, and stop to chat or taste a piece of chocolate they've never tried before. Sweet Stuff is about celebrating the happy moments in people's lives, or reaching out to someone who is grieving. It's about loving and caring for people we know and trying to be just as loving and caring to people we don't.”

He gazed at her so tenderly, her heart skipped a beat. “I always thought your store was just a hobby,” he murmured. “I never knew that you ran the store less like a business and more like a…a ministry.”

“I never thought you were interested in my store, so I never told you,” she said quietly.

“But I should have known,” he said, clearing his throat and glancing at the boxes. “I think you have enough candy now to be able to fill all your orders. Your friends have really saved the day for you.”

“I wish I could say you were right. I hate to disappoint the well-meaning people who donated all this candy, but I still just don't think it's possible to fill my orders. I'd need a full day just to get all this candy sorted and organized, and I'd need another day or two to call the seventy-eight customers who placed orders to ask them to choose what they want from the candy I now have available. Even if I set up some kind of assembly line and get people to help me fill the baskets, which I was already considering, I'd still have to wrap them up and call the customers back to tell them to come and pick up their orders. And with Aunt Dorothy feeling poorly again today, I'm not certain if I want to abandon her right now,” she replied, hoping she didn't sound like she was whining. “I'm afraid this is one problem I can't solve, even with other people helping me.”

“When you put it that way, probably not,” he said, and narrowed his gaze for a moment. “Maybe you should look at solving your problem from a different perspective.”

She cocked a brow. “Such as?”

He held up both hands. “I'm just a plain country boy, not a businessman, so don't get too hopeful, but I can't help comparing your situation with a problem Jake Edison had years ago when I was a kid. He had an apple orchard not far from my parents' farm.”

“I own a store and sell chocolates. He had an orchard and sold apples. What could we have in common that might help me right now?” she asked.

“I'm positive I told you about him before,” he said. “Right at harvest time, Jake took a spill from his tractor, landed on his head and spent the next couple of weeks in the hospital in a coma before he finally woke up again. Sound familiar?”

Charlene rolled her eyes. “No, not really. But if you're telling me to curl up on the couch and sleep away the next couple of weeks, you can forget it. Unless you want to handle everything like I assume Jake's wife had to do for her spouse.”

He grinned. “I'm up to the challenge, but if my idea works, it will only take a couple of days, not weeks. And you can forget the couch idea. I'd need a little help, assuming you're game in the first place.”

“You're serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“Why?” she asked. “Why now? You've never seemed interested in my store before.”

“Why now?” he repeated, and let out a sigh before he caught her gaze and held it. “Because…because I don't want to lose you. Because I'm beginning to realize that unless we find something we can enjoy together, we might never be happy again, the way we used to be. For starters, that could be working together to get your customers taken care of.”

Her heart trembled, but before she could respond to him, he continued. “Maybe you're right,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Maybe it did take this accident, along with Aunt Dorothy becoming ill, to make me realize that I'd been so busy working extra hours, trying to fill the emptiness in my life after the kids left, that I forgot what was most important to me.”

Tears blurred Charlene's vision, and a lump in her throat made it almost impossible for her to breathe, let alone speak. To hear him talk about their problems and his hopes to resolve them was an answer to her prayers.

“You, Charlene,” he whispered. “Our marriage. That's what matters most to me. Unless…unless it's too late.”

She eased into his embrace, laid her cheek against his chest and listened to the beat of his heart. “I love you,” she whispered. “It's not too late. I made mistakes, too. Lots of them. I've missed the kids, too, and I thought opening the store and taking care of my customers would be enough, but it isn't. I need more. I—I need you,” she managed before dissolving into tears.

He held her tight and rocked her for several long minutes. “Where do we go from here?” he asked when she finally stopped weeping.

“Before or after we get my customers' orders filled?” she teased, before starting to cry again or deciding being held in his loving arms was all that mattered.

He hugged her hard. “After.”

“What's your plan?”

He grinned. “Do you trust me?”

“Completely.”

“Good. Let's lock up for now. We'll call Aunt Dorothy and tell her we're headed home once we make a quick stop at Tim Fallon's. You know where his store is, right?”

“Sure. It's only a few blocks away, but—”

“Good. We can walk down to see him together.”

“How do you know Tim?” she asked as she riffled through her purse to find her cell phone.

“He was one of the guys who helped me board up the storefront window. He wasn't thrilled that I spray-painted the name of the store on the plywood, though, let alone that little message,” Daniel explained as he stood by the door waiting for her.

“Since he owns a print shop, I guess he wasn't,” she said, grabbing hold of her cell phone and tapping in Aunt Dorothy's number. “Why do we need to see Tim? And just exactly what is this plan you've come up with?”

“I'll explain on the way.”

“The line's busy,” she said, and closed the cell phone. “I'll try again in a few minutes, but if she's talking to Annie Parker, she'll probably still be on the phone when we get home.”

“At least she won't be wearing that awful makeup,” he teased and stepped outside.

Chuckling, she lifted her keys out of her purse, paused and handed them to him. “You should probably have a set of keys of your own. The hardware store isn't far. We could get a set made for you,” she suggested.

“Good idea,” he said, then locked up the door and handed the keys back to her.

After stepping back inside Natural Wonders to thank Andy Johnson again for handling the unexpected deliveries, Charlene walked down the brick sidewalk, hand-in-hand with her husband. As usual, rush-hour traffic clogged the avenue, with cars stopping at pedestrian crossings on every block to let groups of shoppers cross from one side of the avenue to the other. Charlene was stopped several times by well-wishers, who offered their support.

“You're a bit of a celebrity,” Daniel teased.

She laughed. “Not really, but it's nice to be in a small town where people know one another and really seem to care. Are you getting claustrophobic yet?” she asked, knowing how much he preferred the solitude of the pinelands and their rural home.

“Not yet. Aunt Dorothy's house is so secluded, when I'm working out in the yard I almost forget where I am.”

“Until you're on the avenue.”

“True. But except for the traffic right now, it's not so bad,” he admitted. “Oh, before we both forget, is there anywhere along the avenue where we could get those tissues for Aunt Dorothy?” he asked when they stopped to wait at a red light.

Charlene laughed. “The last time I checked, which was only a few days ago, she still had a dozen boxes stored in one of those cupboards in our bedroom. I'll get two boxes from there.”

“I hope you're not going to start hoarding things when you get older,” he said, urging her to walk again when the light turned green.

“Only you,” she whispered. “Only you.”