Chapter 10 – THE PROMISE THAT REQUIRED PROOF

I sat on the edge of Charlie’s bed.

His question was too important for a quick answer.

I wanted to tell him Marco would never hurt him again.

But adults make promises like that because they want children to feel better.

Children eventually learn how little those promises mean without proof.

“I don’t think you can know for certain,” I said.

Charlie looked disappointed.

“That’s not very helpful.”

“I know.”

He picked up half a sandwich.

“But I think you can watch what your uncle does.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he said he’d have dinner with you. Did he?”

Charlie nodded.

“Yeah.”

“He said you could keep living here.”

“Yeah.”

“And he’s washing dishes even though he has absolutely no idea how to stack a dishwasher.”

Charlie smiled.

“Dad said Uncle Marco was useless in the kitchen.”

“Your dad was an excellent judge of character.”

Charlie laughed softly.

Then I grew serious.

“Trust doesn’t come back because someone makes one good promise. It comes back because they keep making good choices.”

He considered that.

“How long does it take?”

“Sometimes a while.”

Charlie nodded.

Then he looked at me.

“Will you still be here?”

The question caught me off guard.

“I work here.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

I smiled faintly.

“No, it wasn’t.”

He stared at his sandwich.

“Victoria used to say people leave when they don’t have a reason to stay.”

I felt a familiar anger rise.

“People leave for all kinds of reasons, Charlie. But someone leaving doesn’t mean you weren’t worth staying for.”

He looked up.

“Dad didn’t want to leave.”

“No.”

“He died.”

“Yes.”

Charlie sat quietly for a moment.

Then he whispered, “I know.”

I didn’t try to improve the sentence.

Some truths are painful enough without an adult decorating them.

A few minutes later, Marco appeared in the doorway.

He’d changed out of his suit.

Without the jacket and polished shoes, he looked less imposing.

More like an exhausted uncle who wasn’t sure whether he was welcome.

“Can I come in?”

Charlie shrugged.

Marco waited.

Finally, the boy nodded.

Marco entered and sat in the chair beside the window.

“Claire told me you had a question.”

I glanced at him.

“I didn’t tell him exactly what it was,” I said.

Marco nodded.

Charlie looked down at his sandwich.

“Are you going to start working late again?”

Marco leaned forward.

“Sometimes I might have to work late.”

Charlie stiffened.

“But I’m going to tell you when that happens. And I’m going to make time for us.”

“You always say that.”

“I know.”

Marco didn’t argue.

He looked toward the stuffed bear.

“Your dad used to tell me that saying sorry was the easy part.”

Charlie looked up.

“He did?”

“He said the hard part was changing what you did afterward.”

“That sounds like Dad.”

Marco nodded.

“So here’s what I’m changing.”

He took a small notebook from his pocket.

On the first page he’d written:

Breakfast together.

Dinner at home whenever possible.

Wednesday afternoons — Charlie chooses.

Charlie leaned closer.

“What’s Wednesday afternoons?”

“Anything you want.”

“Anything?”

“Within reason.”

Charlie smiled.

“Can we go to a baseball game?”

“Absolutely.”

“Even if it’s a school night?”

“We’ll negotiate.”

Charlie considered that.

“What about homework?”

“I’ll help.”

“You’re bad at fractions.”

“I’m excellent at hiring people who understand fractions.”

Charlie laughed.

Marco smiled.

Then he turned the page.

There was another line.

No more decisions about Charlie without Charlie.

The boy read it twice.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Marco took a breath.

“I also want us to find someone you can talk to about Dad. A counselor who works with kids your age.”

Charlie looked cautious.

“Do I have to go away?”

“No. We’d find someone here in Chicago.”

“Will you come?”

“If you’d like me to.”

Charlie thought about that.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe is fine.”

Marco reached into his pocket again.

This time, he removed a folded sheet of paper.

It was the drawing of the yellow house.

“I made another decision.”

Charlie stared at it.

“What?”

“Your dad wanted a quieter life for you. I can’t undo the things I said to him, but I can start listening now.”

Charlie looked at his uncle.

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’m changing how I work. I’m handing over responsibilities that keep me away all the time. I want fewer meetings in this house and more evenings that belong to us.”

“Can the guards stop standing outside my door?”

Marco’s expression tightened.

“Yes. We can change that.”

Charlie looked relieved.

“And can we visit the lake house?”

Marco nodded.

“I’d like that.”

“Is it still there?”

“Yes.”

Charlie studied the drawing.

“Did Dad buy it?”

“He’d started making arrangements. After he died, I made sure the place stayed in the family.”

The boy looked astonished.

“You kept it?”

Marco smiled sadly.

“I couldn’t bring myself to let it go.”

Charlie stared at the drawing for a long time.

Then he asked, “Can we go together?”

“I’d like that very much.”

Charlie slowly set down his sandwich.

“Uncle Marco?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you still sad about Dad?”

Marco nodded.

“Every day.”

“Me too.”

“I know.”

Charlie looked at him.

“Does laughing mean we’re forgetting him?”

Marco’s eyes filled.

“No, buddy.”

He reached for the boy’s hand.

“Your dad was one of the funniest people I’ve ever known. I think he’d be pretty disappointed if we spent the rest of our lives afraid to laugh.”

Charlie smiled.

Then he picked up the wooden ruler I’d placed beside his bed.

Marco recognized it immediately.

“Uh-oh.”

Charlie stood.

“Court is back in session.”

Marco raised both hands.

“What am I charged with this time?”

Charlie adjusted his father’s crooked reading glasses.

“Breaking promises.”

Marco’s smile faded.

Charlie looked at him seriously.

“And this time, Uncle Marco, I need you to tell the whole truth.”

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