“Hey, baby,” her mom answered softly, sleepily. “Are you okay?”
Horrified, she looked at the time. It was ten P.M. Which was one A.M. for her parents. “Oh my God, I forgot how late it was for you. Go back to sleep.”
“No, I’m so glad it’s you.” Her mom’s voice was more alert now, and there was a soft rustling, as if she was sitting up in bed. “I was hoping to hear from you this week. Are you okay? Is anything wrong? When are you coming home?”
“Mom.” Charlotte couldn’t have stopped the emotion in her voice if she’d tried. “I’m so sorry I woke you.”
“Enough about that. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing really.” She cleared her throat, but the emotion couldn’t be budged. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“Ah, honey. Tough night?”
“Yeah.” She closed her eyes and let her mom’s voice wash over her. She missed her. Missed the big old kitchen, where her mom had never had a problem baking. The whole house was always scented with something delicious.
“What happened, Lottie?”
“Oh, you know how it goes at work,” she managed.
“I do.” Her mom had been a nurse before she’d retired a few years ago. A small-town private nurse, but she’d seen her share of horror. “Remember what I told you to do when it gets to be too much?”
Charlotte found a laugh. “Drink?”
“Find a partner. And jump their bones.”
“Mom.”
“Look, I don’t pretend to understand why you don’t want someone in your life. I mean, okay, after what you went through, I actually do understand, but it’s been years and lots of therapists, and—”
“I’m fine, I promise.”
“But—”
“Not now, okay?” She rubbed at the tension headache forming between her eyebrows, the one that would’ve been erased by a thick, gooey homemade brownie. “Not here.”
“Okay, baby. I hear you. How long of a break do you have?”
“Maybe twenty minutes.”
“You’re going to eat, yes? You need to eat. Preferably protein, not just a quick grilled cheese.”
“I cooked,” Charlotte said. “I went all out and made turkey and stuffing.” She opened her glass food container and had to admit, she’d done a damn good job. “I brought my leftovers.”
“You use my recipes?”
“Of course.” She left off the failed attempts at baking brownies. “I miss you, Mom.”
“Oh, honey. We miss you too. I sure wish you could’ve made it home for the holidays.”
“Me too.” Charlotte looked out at the sea of exhausted hospital employees around her. “But there are just so many staff members with young kids this year who wanted to be home with their families.”
“So you volunteered.” Her mom’s voice was thick with emotion. “Now we only see you when we can come to you. Which is fine, I understand, I just . . .” She sniffed. “We miss you so much.”
Charlotte was staring at the floor, trying not to lose it, when two sneakers came into view, topped by long legs covered in green scrubs. She knew those beat-up sneaks. She knew those long legs. “Mom,” she said softly, closing her eyes, ignoring the man in front of her, “please don’t cry.”
“I’m not. I’ve just got something in my eye.”