Promise Me by Richard Paul Evans Page A

some other writing implement, ending up with one of Charlotte’s crayons. I found a note pad in the pantry and scrawled down my phone number. As I walked back to the foyer, I saw Charlotte standing close to Matthew. He was crouched down and moving away from her, as if he had touched or hugged her. I wasn’t sure what I was seeing.
    â€œCharlotte,” I said. “I thought you were in bed, honey.”
    â€œI heard the door open,” she said, “I came to see who was here.”
    I looked back and forth between them. I couldn’t explain it, but there was a strange energy. I wasn’t sure in the dim lighting, but Matthew’s eyes seemed wet. “Matthew, this is my daughter Charlotte.”
    He extended his hand to her. “Nice to meet you, Charlotte. I’m Matthew.”
    â€œNice to meet you, Matthew.”
    â€œMr. Matthew,” I said. “Now go back to bed.”
    â€œOkay.” She waved at him. “Bye, Mr. Matthew.”
    â€œGood night, Charlotte.”
    She ran back to the bedroom.
    â€œShe’s a very sweet girl,” he said to me. “She looks well.”
    â€œThanks to you.”
    â€œShe’s going to be a very beautiful woman someday. I guarantee it.” Then he looked at me. “Like her mother.”
    â€œThank you.” I handed him the paper. “Here you are. The top number is my phone number at the house and the bottom number is the cleaners.”
    â€œI’ll call you tomorrow.”
    â€œI’ll look forward to it.”
    â€œWell, good night.” He turned to go.
    As he walked out the front door I said, “Matthew.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œHow did you know? About Charlotte?”
    He shrugged. “Lucky guess.”
    â€œBut you weren’t guessing. You told me to trust you.”
    He just looked at me for a moment. “I recognized the symptoms from what you told me.” He saluted. “Good night, Beth.”
    â€œGood night, Matthew.”
    When he was in his car, I shut the door and leaned against it. There was something mysterious about this man. Something sweet but mysterious. What was I missing?

Some relationships need to be pounded into place with a sledge hammer, while others effortlessly fall into place as if made to fit. Matthew fits as comfortably as a pair of Hush Puppy loafers.
    (Rox once told me that the brand name Hush Puppies came when the shoe company’s president was eating a southern dinner of fried corn “hush puppies” and asked the waitress why they were so called. She replied, “Because farmers throw them to the hounds to quiet their barking dogs.” Barking dogs was, back then, an idiom for sore feet, and a star was born.
Or maybe Rox was just making that up. With Rox one never quite knows where truth ends and imagination begins.)
    Beth Cardall’s Diary
    I called Roxanne as soon as Matthew left to see if Jan could babysit. As I expected, she was relieved to hear of his return. “I knew he’d be back,” she said. “I told you, didn’t I?”
    â€œRight as usual,” I said.
    â€œWell, come hell or high water you’re going out with that man. Jan’s out with her friends right now, but if she can’t sit, you can just bring Charlotte on by the house. Ray and I aren’t doing anything.”
    â€œThanks, Rox.”
    â€œMy pleasure, baby. I just love a new romance. My candle may be flickering, but I can still warm myself by your flame.”

    Jan wasn’t busy Friday night, and in spite of her previous experience with Charlotte, she was happy to babysit. As usual, she came a little early. I hugged her at the door. “I never thanked you for your help last time.”
    â€œI was glad to help. Sure scared me, though.”
    â€œThat makes two of us.”
    â€œWhere’s our girl?”
    â€œShe’s in her bedroom.”
    â€œNot anymore,” Jan said as Charlotte came running