Speak Now (32 page)

Cara,

Frankie came home from class Sunday quite subdued. He answered questions briefly and in a monotone. I thought maybe he’d gotten in trouble or had a fight with a friend. He’s a talker, so I knew he’d eventually tell me what was up. Ahem.

Frank brought out the Bible that night and started reading where Michal berates David for dancing before the Lord in public.
Frankie’s eyes got all wild and angry. I seriously thought he was going to explode. When we finally got him to say something coherent, all he said was, “After he chopped off all those skins for her! She wasn’t worth it!”

Right about that time, I got a call from an irate mother. I’m sure you’ve heard from her. After an earful of reasons why it is ridiculous to allow people who aren’t parents to teach children, I informed her that this lesson was the best one my Frankie has had in a long time. I have no doubt he’ll be very careful when he chooses
a wife. All I’ll have to do is ask if she’s worth a hundred foreskins or not.

Anyway, I wanted to thank you for filling in, for doing the job, for not ignoring a passage just because it was uncomfortable for you. You filled in, last minute from what I hear, and followed Elisabeth Elliot’s advice to “do the next thing” to
a T. I commend you.

If for no other reason, I thank you for giving us the best laugh we’ve had in months. Oh, I wish you could have seen his face. Priceless. They should make a MasterCard commercial out of it. Can’t you hear it? Sunday school snacks: seven dollars. Worksheet copies: one twenty-nine. Look on kid’s face when he hears about a hundred foreskins—priceless.

One grateful parent,

Sheila Lanzo

“Is she related to Vince?”

Cara nodded, sitting up as she did. “Airport! What are we doing at the airport?” She whipped her head around excitedly. “You had the children flown in, didn’t you?”

“Not quite.” Ignoring her question, he asked again about Sheila Lanzo. “So if she’s related—”

“Frank is Vince’s brother or cousin
. I’ve never asked which.” Cara crossed her arms and refused to budge. “What do you mean ‘not quite?’”

“Okay, no. I did not have my children flown in.” Jonathan hurried to open her door. As she stepped from the car, he smiled and whispered, “But I can’t tell you what it means to me that you not only thought that but sounded excited too.”

“So, what?”

“I’m not telling you anything. You’ll find out everything as it happens and no sooner. I can’t believe I’ve pulled this off.” As he glanced at his watch, he slammed the door shut and clicked on the alarm.

Without another word, they strolled into the airport where Jonathan handed a valet his keys and received a receipt in exchange. Cara was of the “park in no man’s land and walk a mile to get to the airport entrance” brand of traveler. She’d already entered a new world. Once inside, she whirled. “We’re going to Atlanta to take them for pizza and ice cream.”

He glanced at his watch anxiously as he answered, “What a revolting combination. No. Like I said—”

“I’ll find out when it happens. Great. Let’s check in.”

“We have to hurry. We’re pushing it.” Another glance at his watch nearly sent Cara into a fit of giggles.

At the check-in kiosks, Jonathan punched in Cara’s information and then stepped aside for her to finish the process while he did his own. When he finished, he smiled down at her single raised eyebrow. She shook her head and groaned. “You’re not telling me why we’re going to Chicago.” They entered the first-class security check; she glanced up at him again. “At least you didn’t take us into O’Hare. I hate that place.”

Security lived up to its reputation as a nightmare. It seemed as though the TSA agents pulled every other person from the line to check more thoroughly. Cara tried not to giggle at the irate look on Jonathan’s face as the agent patted him down twice, made him remove his socks, and finally
untuck his shirt and remove his belt while his metal detecting wand went insane with screeches. As the man beckoned him to a screening room, another agent came over and waved hers around Cara without as much as a peep. By the time he redressed, Jonathan’s face had gone from faint red to scarlet—with embarrassment or anger, Cara didn’t know.

They entered a near-empty first class lounge
. Jonathan brought them drinks and then flipped open his phone. Cara listened curiously as he called a store, spoke to the manager, and gave specific size and color needs for a suit jacket, pants, shirt, tie, shoes, and socks. He listened, his face furrowing at times and nodding his head at others as he clarified points of detail until he seemed satisfied. Unless the store had talked him into something different, he’d pick up a charcoal jacket and slacks, light blue shirt, matching tie, and black shoes sometime before six o’clock.

“What, no belt?”

Jonathan laughed. “The style of pants I ordered doesn’t have loops. They’ll fit. I’ve purchased this brand before.”

“Seems like a lot of trouble. Why didn’t you go back to your hotel room—”

“I only brought my tux, and it’s being pressed at the hotel as we speak. Everything else is a little too casual for what I want.”

She rolled her eyes, laughing. “This is one expensive date!”

“On the contrary. The plane tickets cost me nothing, the suit I needed anyway, which is why I chose the color I did, so that leaves tickets, dinner, and cab fare. Typical date expenses.”

“Dates are expensive, aren’t they?” Somehow, Cara had never given a thought to how expensive their week must have been back in May.

“Is that how it feels to you when you take a friend out for lunch or dinner?”

She started to protest that it wasn’t the same, but a second glance into his eyes told her what he meant. “The cost is nothing compared to the company— is that it? If I can’t afford to take a friend out, I don’t offer. If I can, I don’t like to think she’s feeling guilty about me spending what blesses me to spend.” She nudged his knee with hers. “You’re right. I’ll just say thank you—when it’s over and I know what I’m thanking you for.”

His contented sigh washed over her. He leaned back against the couch cushions, put his hands behind his head, rested his right ankle on his left knee, and closed his eyes. It felt like a reversal of their first lunch. While he rested and relaxed, Cara sank into the opposite corner of the couch, tucked her leg under her, and watched him much like he’d done all those weeks ago.

He wasn’t excessively tall, but he’d been taller than his wife. She wondered just what Lily’s height was and laughed when Jonathan murmured, “Five-eleven.” At first, she assumed he’d mentioned Lily’s height but realized quickly that it was his. His skin was darker now than it had been in May. He’d
obviously been outside more lately, and now Cara wondered if he had a pool.

“Should I bring a swimsuit to Atlanta? I’ll have to have Mom start making one if I should. Mine is all ratty.”

“The kids’ll probably want to drag you in the pool, but ratty is good enough for us.”

That answered that question. They had a pool. His arms looked awfully muscular for someone who spent most of his life in an office or on an airplane. Before she could ask, he chuckled. “Déjà vu. I have a rowing machine in my office for late nights. I use gyms at hotels. Working out helps me think when I’m stuck.”

Even though they were closed, she felt that she could see the gray eyes that so often spoke to her. The eyelashes were simply unfair; men should not be allowed to have eyelashes like that. A faint shadow darkened his jaw line. Cara had never been a fan of the scruffy shadow look, but watching him now tempted her to change her mind. Why didn’t women’s legs look that good when they needed a new shave? She wanted to run her hand along his jaw and see just how prickly a man’s face was when the shadow appeared.

“Go ahead. You let me.”

“How did—”

His chuckle stopped her. “You’ve trained me well, Cara mia.”

Tentatively, she brushed the backs of her fingers lightly over his jaw. “Like fine sandpaper…”

“In an hour, it’ll be medium, and by the time we get back on the plane, coarse.”

She wanted to take another stroke but didn’t. With a deep sigh, she continued her observance and kept her hands wrapped around her purse handle as though desperate for the support. Bryson’s hair was a bit coarse and wiry. Looking at Jonathan’s, she knew where he got it. This time, before Jonathan could utter his next invitation, she shook her head.

“Huh-uh. I know my limitations. Shut up and let me enjoy myself without any further temptations!”

In a voice that sounded almost exactly like Bryson, Jonathan crowed, “Oooh, Cara said a bad word….”

“What—”

“The ‘S-word.’ It’s almost as bad as the ‘real’ one in our house.”

“I’ll remember that.” Before she could say any more, the PA system called for first-class passengers to board.

“Go ahead. I need to make a quick call. I’ll be right there.”

“I’ll get started putting on my makeup then.”

~*~*~*~

“So I came here from LA, and, like, it’s totally awesome. There’s this, like, cool vibe around here.”

Cara rolled her eyes at Jonathan as she bent down to adjust her shoe. “You don’t miss the ocean?”

“No way, man, I mean the waves were good, but there’s nothing like C
hicago pizza and the White Sox—oh, and the Bulls. Love the Bulls. And we’ve, like, got the Blackhawks—great times. I’m going to Northeastern in the fall. Senior. Transferred from UCLA.” He paused just long enough for Cara to think they’d heard the end of his monologue and then asked, “So, like, what are you guys doing in Waukegan?”

“Fishing for lake trout.”

“Cool.” Silence hovered for a moment and then came the expected, “Huh?”

Jonathan, who hadn’t spoken a word since they’d hailed the most talkative cabbie in the greater Chicago area, nearly exploded trying to contain his laughter. He coughed and then coughed harder as Cara offered him a sip of her bottle of water as though his coughing was par for the course. She explained, with the most sorrowful and scolding tones he thought anyone could manufacture, that his smoking caused him serious lung problems, but he refused to quit.

“I don’t know what to do with him.”

“Oh, man, you’ve got to stop. My uncle got the patch. It made him kind of hyper, but he lost a lot of weight instead of gaining it. Not that you need to lose any,” the driver hastened to add. “I just mean that some people put on pounds and Uncle Rob didn’t.”

“Well, maybe I should try that patch then.” Cara couldn’t resist teasing Jonathan just a little.

“Nah, if you want to get rid of a few pounds, my mom swears by that new
, like, powdered stuff you stir in your water—can’t remember the name, but you could ask a pharmacist. She says it’s the only thing that works like it claims. I bet you’d slim right down—”

“Over my rotting corpse you will,” Jonathan growled under his breath.

“He speaks!”

Cara nodded. “Yeah, he gets a little testy if you mention weight loss. I think he had an anorexic girlfriend in high school or something.”

The driver tried again. “So you said you were fishing in Waukegan? Can you fish there? I—”

“That was a joke.
Anne of Green Gables
. Read it.”

“So,” the driver asked without missing a beat, “what are you really doing then?”

“I don’t know,” Cara said pointedly. “It’s like if he tells me he’ll have to kill me or something.”

“But then he’d have to kill you once you got there, so that doesn’t make sense. My cousin was with the CIA. He used to say that all the time, but no one believed him. I think he meant it sometimes, though. I mean, that’s what I’d do. I’d
, like, say it all the time so no one took me seriously even when I was serious. It’d be cool. So, like, where’re you from?”

“Atlanta.” Jonathan’s voice interrupted before Cara could speak.

“How long are you going to be in town?”

“Going back tonight.” Cara rushed to answer before Jonathan could. This shifted him out of his fury and sent him coughing again. “See what I mean? He’s going to end up with emphysema before he’s forty.”

“You, like, really should stop smoking, man. And wow. That’s quite a trip. There and back in a day. Some kind of business trip, huh?”

“No, he’s just taking me on a date.” Cara nearly snorted at the awestruck look on the man’s face.

“Whoa. Aren’t you a little under dressed for a date? I mean, like,
she
looks like a million bucks, but—”

“Oh, he called ahead to have
clothes waiting at some store—where was that, Jonathan?”

“Sterns. On Genesee.”

“Kind of like Pretty Woman, eh? I mean—well, like, you’re not a prostitute or anything but—” he flushed. “Well, are you?”

“She is not,” Jonathan clipped. “Tell me, what are you studying at Northeastern?”

“Art, well, and a minor in anthropology. I thought it’d be, like, a good way to round me out a little. My dad thinks it’s just fluff work and why take the classes, but I was like, ‘Dude, I’ve got a passion for it, and I need to express myself. I, like, need to know like how to speak to others with something other than words.’”