Where One Goes by B N Toler

Author:B N Toler [Toler, B N]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

“So, tell us about your family, Char. Do you see them often?” Mr. Mercer asks as he sets a glass of iced tea on the table where she’s seated. Mrs. Mercer went all out and prepared a meal that could feed twenty people. The food is spread out over a clean, white tablecloth and she’s using her best china. My mouth waters as I stare at the fried chicken and mashed potatoes.

“I’m sure not as often as they’d like,” Charlotte answers before taking a sip from her tea. She’s wearing a loose, blue top with her jeans, her black hair half pulled up. She looks . . . beautiful.

“Do you have any siblings?” Mrs. Mercer asks as she takes her seat and picks up the dish of mashed potatoes. Charlotte’s eyes dart to mine very briefly before returning to the Mercer’s.

Smiling somewhat stiffly, she says, “I had a brother. He passed away about six years ago.”

Mr. Mercer’s brows furrow as if pained by this news. “I’m sorry to hear that. As you know, we know what it is to lose someone you love dearly.”

Charlotte sits up and takes the dish of potatoes from Mrs. Mercer. “This all looks amazing, Mrs. Mercer.”

“Best fried chicken in Bath County,” Mr. Mercer adds, causing his wife to grin as she gives Charlotte a bashful look.

“Like you’d say otherwise, Bill,” Mrs. Mercer quips and Charlotte smiles. “Maggie loved fried chicken. We had it every Sunday.”

“It was her favorite,” Mr. Mercer adds sadly.

Mrs. Mercer smiles softly. “She’s been gone ten years, and it still feels as though it was yesterday she was here.”

“She fought. Lived a hell of a lot longer than they said she would when she was diagnosed.”

“May I ask what it is she passed away from?” Charlotte asks delicately.

“Dyskeratosis Congenita . It’s a rare disease that can lead to bone marrow failure. Eventually . . . her body gave out,” Mr. Mercer answers as he spoons a helping of green beans onto his plate.

They chitchat back and forth, mostly speaking of Maggie, and Charlotte listens intently as they describe Maggie from the way she smiled to what an ornery toddler she was. When they’re done eating, Mrs. Mercer shoos her husband and Charlotte into the living room while she clears the table. Their house is modest; not huge, but not exactly small either. Antiques and numerous clocks hang on the wall, ticking mercifully.

“Say, could you tell me the time?” I jest, and she rolls her eyes. “Do you think they like clocks?”

But she doesn’t seem to hear the last part of what I said; when Charlotte enters the living room, her entire focus is on the mahogany grand piano against the back wall. Like a moth to a flame, she goes to it, running her fingers along the wooden lid that covers the keys.

“Do you play?” Mr. Mercer asks as he watches her.

“I did,” Charlotte answers, staring at her hand where it rests on the lid.

“Will you play for us?”

Charlotte turns and smiles sadly.

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