Speak Now (27 page)

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Authors: Chautona Havig

BOOK: Speak Now
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“Daddy made breakfast for dinner. We had eggs, sausage, and waffles for dinner. Daddy makes the
best
waffles ever. I know his secret, but I’m not supposed to tell.”

“Well, then,” Cara said solemnly. “I think I’ll have to get him to tell me himself. That way I know but you didn’t break your word. What else did you and Riley do today?”

For the next ten minutes, Cara listened as Bryson told her about writing his whole name all by himself, how Riley learned to recognize the first letter of her name, and how she’d colored on the butcher-block counter that day. “Oh, my. That must have been hard to clean!”

“Gramby scrubbed most of it off, but then she had to use sandpaper to get the rest off, and then she had to use the oil again. Riley had to watch and help the whole time. I don’t think she’ll color on the counters again.”

“I should think not!” She forced her voice into a conspiratorial tone. “Did you color on the counters when you were little?”

“No, but I colored in a book once. The drawings were black and white, so I thought it was a coloring book. Gramby was very mad.”

“So, did you have to erase it all?” Cara didn’t know what to do with a child who colored in a book.

“No, but I had to bring every book on my shelf to her and ask if I could color in it or not
for practice.”

“Oh, dear! I guess that would help you remember which ones you could and couldn’t color in.” The idea seemed harsh to Cara.

“Gramby said it was to help me remember to ask before I did something. It worked though. I remember to ask now,
and
I remember which books I can color in and which I can’t.”

“And how is Gramby this evening?” Cara didn’t know much about Jonathan’s housekeeper/nanny except that she wasn’t home on weekends.

“She went to Athens tonight. She’s not coming home until Monday afternoon, so we’re going to work with Daddy on Monday!”

While waiting for Jonathan to return,
Bryson regaled her with stories of how he stomped a spider for Riley, how well his little flowers he’d planted were growing, and how he wanted to see a movie another child at the park had told him about. Before she could ask the name of the strange sounding movie, she heard Jonathan call the boy’s name. A moment later, he asked who Bryson was talking to.

“Miss Cara. Is it my turn for a bath?”

“Um…yes. How long has Miss Cara been on the phone?”

Bryson immediately asked Cara for the requested information. “She says ‘awhile.’ I think she needs to learn to be a little more spasmodic. Awhile doesn’t say much, does it?”

Cara’s laughter erupted at the exact moment his own snicker escaped. “I think you mean specific. Spasmodic is when your body jerks around. Gramby uses that word for when people are dancing on TV.”

“Does pacific mean that you say exactly what it is instead of just sort of what it is?”

“Pacific is an ocean, Bry.
Spe
cific means more detailed. That’s the word you want, yes.” She heard Jonathan take the phone from his son. “I agree with Bryson. You need to be more specific. Just how long have you been on the phone with him?”

“Oh, about half an hour. You were giving Riley a bath because she got hair in her syrup. Oh, and I want that recipe for waffles. Then I heard all about some weird movie that a kid at the park told Bryson about, I discovered that he’s my little hero because he stomps spiders and grows flowers, and I learned that when children color in books, you can’t make them erase it but you can make them practice asking which books are okay to color in. I had a very illuminating conversation with your son.”

Jonathan’s groan revealed his mortification before he said, “I have to give Bry a bath. Can I call you back when he’s in bed?”

“Sure. I need to order my dinner anyway. My fridge is empty except for Slim-Fast and I—”

“I’ll order for you and make it a surprise. I know the best place to get—anyway; it’ll be there by the time I call you back.”

While Cara waited for her dinner, she dimmed the lights, lit candles, grabbed her favorite summer weight robe, and dug her new can of pepper spray from the bottom of her purse.
The leather loop on her purse looked ready to break at any moment. Tomorrow, she’d spend the day in several of her favorite stores doing a search for a new favorite purse.

The phone rang simultaneously with the doorbell. Still feeling jittery at answering the door after dark, Cara answered the phone first, telling Jonathan to wait until she’d finished with the delivery person. One peek into the dinner box and Cara salivated like a basset hound. “Oh, boy! Stuffed mushrooms, filet mignon, grilled veggies, and…” she bit her lip trying to open the container. “Cheesecake. Oh, man that looks good.”

“I make a great dinner, don’t I?”

“Mmm hmmm…” Cara’s mouth was already stuffed with the mushroom. “This is so good.”

“Did today get any better?”

“Uh huh. About five minutes ago.” Cara chewed her steak slowly, savoring every bite. She glanced around her for a drink and then hurried back into the kitchen, pulling out her favorite sparkling water flavor and pouring a glass. “Thanks.”

“I’m glad.”

Sensing that Jonathan just wanted to hear about her day, and unwilling to eat cold food, she turned up her CD and ate with the phone on speaker, making occasional comments but not really discussing anything. Jonathan picked up her cue and changed the conversation. “I cannot believe you are a shabby chic freak and a lover of Celtic Woman. Could our tastes be more opposite?”

“You don’t like Celtic Woman?” Had she considered it, Cara wouldn’t have been surprised. Most of her friends and family didn’t like the all-female group. Only she and Carly enjoyed their current addiction.

“They sound like they’re in pain.”

Cara laughed, thankful that he couldn’t see her mouthful of food. “Oh, they do not.” At that moment, the woman hit a particularly high note. “How can you call that painful?”

“How can you not?” His chuckle kept his words from sounding critical.

Cara finished her last bite of steak and vegetables and pushed her plate away. “I think I’ll save my dessert for later. I’m stuffed.”

“Must be the mushrooms.”

“Very funny.” Cara curled back into her favorite corner of the couch and closed her eyes. It had been an amazing meal.

“So, what kept today from being a better day than the rest of the week?” He sighed. “Yes, I just want to hear you talk. I’ve waited all day for this moment.”

“That’s not flattering or totally endearing,” Cara murmured, closing her eyes. At his chuckle, she decided to cooperate. “Well, Locksley created a mess of epic proportions, Tina’s husband was sent to the hospital, and when I got home, a man was lurking in the shadows of my doorway. I almost had a heart attack.”

“What!”

“Oh, yes. You’ve got to hear this. So I’m walking to my door, already feeling squiffy about it—”

“Squiffy?”

“Shush. I’m telling the story. And I see this guy standing there. I guess he was leaning against the corner waiting, but it looked to me like he was hiding, so I kicked off my shoes—Again, she wondered how she’d managed to retrieve them without realizing it. “Anyway,” with every detail imaginable, Cara told the story of running from Jacob, nearly running Jacob
over
, and then his subsequent apology.

“Well, that was unexpected.” Jonathan sounded like he didn’t know what to say.

“Awkward too. He acts like we’ll just pick up where we left off, as if nothing ever happened. I’ve changed but he hasn’t.” She paused, thinking. “Or hasn’t from what I can tell.”

“Okay, that sounds strange. Why is that a problem?”

“Oh, Jonathan, it’s so embarrassing. I can tell he’s exactly the same man he used to be, but he’s so… um… shallow!”

“So, I take it you won’t be calling him tomorrow morning for coffee?”

“I didn’t get his number, thankfully, so I guess I’ll have to forgo that pleasure.” Cara winced. “Jonathan, why am I so,” she fumbled for the right word, “
unconcerned
about his feelings. I don’t want to be that person.”

“It sounds to me like he’s either one of those men who mistake sympathy and kindness for interest, or you don’t trust yourself with him.”

“You nailed it with the first one.” She shook her head at the idea she didn’t trust herself with him. “I didn’t know he was that way, but he is. I literally had to throw him out of here. He just didn’t get it.” She thought for a moment. “You’ve met Chuck Majors, right? Didn’t you say something to Vince?”

“I’ve met Chuck.” Jonathan couldn’t imagine another Chuck.

“Well, Jacob doesn’t have the social awkwardness of Chuck—he’s not rude or anything. However, the self-centeredness… yeah. That’s Jacob. How did I not see it? And,” she continued before he could answer, “how did I not understand when my friends weren’t sorry to see him go. I just thought they were trying to be cheerful for me. I think they were
cheering
for me.”

“Sounds like it.”

Cara remembered Jacob’s intrusion of her space and said, “Um, Jonathan?”

“Yeah?” The dread in his voice caused strange and delightful flip-flops in her heart.

“I just want to thank you.”

“Am I allowed to know what for?”

She smiled at the decided flirtation in his tone. “For respecting me and my property—even if you don’t like it. Jacob walked through here, poking this and flipping that. The way he treated my possessions reminded me of a snob at a flea market—but worse. I felt violated just watching him.”

“I’m the one who ticked you off about your clocks.”

“Very punny,” she retorted with a snort. “No, but you didn’t disrespect
me
in doing it. At the time I didn’t get that. I do now. You cared about not offending me. He was just rude and insulting and he didn’t even say anything about it.”

“So, I don’t need to order new contacts?”

“You wear contacts?”

“Yep. I wore glasses until I had the kids, but after the third broken pair, I got contacts. Do I need to put an order in for green ones?”

“Not on my account. Mom and I are buying fabric tomorrow for my dress, and I wouldn’t go through that for just anyone.”

“Go through what?”

“Shopping for fabric with my mom is probably as exciting for me as…” Her mind whizzed for a good analogy. “Um… shoe shopping would be for you—if you went with me, anyway.”

“Are you buying heels? Wearing a nice skirt…”

“Oh, stop it! Okay, shopping for fabric with my mom for me is like you going to a Celtic Woman concert would be for you.” A hint of smugness entered her voice as she spoke. That analogy couldn’t be any more perfect.

“I’ll pray for you.”

She yawned. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Jonafan.”

“Night, Cara mia.”

Chapter Twenty

“This green is perfect though!”

“Mom, we don’t even know what you’re making yet. How can we know if this green is perfect?” Cara’s exhaustion screamed for her to just buy the fabric and leave the store, but she knew the odds of her mother having six yards of unusable fabric were high if they couldn’t find a dress option.

“I’m getting it. We’ll go down to the Row and see what some of the boutiques have for ideas.”

A worse idea, she couldn’t imagine. Hours of torture lay ahead of her. Not good. While her mother took the bolt of shimmering silk charmeuse to the cutting table, Cara slid open her phone and sent a text message to Jonathan. *WHISPERS* SAVE ME FROM THE MADNESS

Before her mother paid for the fabric, Jonathan’s reply chimed on her phone. WILL I LIKE IT?

Giggling, she snapped a picture of the fabric and sent back a stinging retort. IT IS JUST A PUDDLE OF GREEN FABRIC. YOU TELL ME

He sent back one word almost immediately. TOGA?

Diane glanced sharply at Cara’s titter. Cara shrugged and passed the phone to her mother. Blinking twice, Diane figured out how to manipulate the keys on Cara’s new phone and sent back her own message. NOT WHEN I AM DONE WITH IT

The phone rang almost instantly. Diane answered it, sending Cara into a new fit of giggles. “I thought at least
you
might have some confidence in my ability to appropriately dress my daughter. Although
she
seems blind to my one and only talent, I was sure
you
had eyes, anyway.”

“Mrs. Laas, I have every confidence in your ability to create the perfect gown. Cara will be stunning if she goes in a grocery sack, but you’ll ensure she knocks the whole room dead.”

“That’s one way to get her for yourself.”

Cara smiled at Jonathan’s laughter. Whatever he’d said, he had definitely scored points with her mother. All the way out the door, to the car, and halfway to the Row, Diane talked to Jonathan, while Cara listened, wondering at the strange things her mother said. What did mulch, concerts, and hamburgers have to do with anything?

She retrieved her phone as she parked. “Sorry, no more talking to my mother. She has stories I am not prepared to have you hear. We’re shopping now. Pray.” His laughter filled the air until the phone disconnected him.

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