Speak Now (35 page)

They’d been a little awkward with each other all morning. Cara hardly smiled, Jonathan talked too much, and the air between them held a completely differ
ent charge. Cara was ready to scream with frustration that she hadn’t prevented the cause. She felt, although a bit unreasonably, that it was her fault. She had opened the Pandora’s Box that surrounded them for so long, and now their relationship seemed irrevocably damaged.

Before he drove away, Jonathan called her back to the car. “Cara?”

She leaned in the window expectantly. “Hmm?”

“Are we okay, Cara mia?”

The first genuine smile of the day flashed across her face. “We’re wonderful, Jonathan. As of this moment, we are perfectly wonderful.”

Without another word, she fairly skipped into the salon, and Jonathan drove down the street. The sight of a deli sent him careening across lanes and into a parking lot, earning him a few obscene gestures and
what looked like a stream of foul language. He didn’t care. He hurried inside and waited for his turn at the counter.

“I have an odd request. I need a couple of hard-boiled eggs—sliced or cubed. Some turkey breast and ham cubed, fruit—”

“Cubed?” The elderly man behind the counter laughed at Jonathan’s sheepish look.

“My girlfriend is getting her hair cut, something waxed, and her toenails polished. She needs food that she can eat easily.”

The man pointed to a cold case. “Drinks are there.” As he chopped and arranged, the man talked. “So, what kind of man comes in and orders protein—hey, do you want some cheese?”

“Please.”

“And fruit—how about some celery and carrots? Broccoli maybe?”

Jonathan nodded. “Can you add a little thing of ranch dressing?”

“Sure. So most guys would come in here, if they thought of it at all, and order a muffin or bagel and cream cheese.”

“She needs nutrition, not filler.”

“Does she know what a catch she has in you?”

Jonathan almost beamed. “Sir, I’m the one with the catch. Trust me, I couldn’t ask for a better woman.”

“They don’t make those very often anymore. I’d get her while I could.”

Taking the bag from the man’s hand, with almost a boyish earnestness, Jonathan nodded. “I intend to, sir. I definitely intend to.” It was the second time since his arrival in Rockland that he’d assured someone he knew how blessed he was to have found Cara, and now that he had, he wasn’t going to let her go.

He tried to avoid showing the dismay he felt seeing a man cutting Cara’s hair. Pulling the clear plastic containers from the bag, he popped off the lids and sat them in a row on the counter in front of the chair. “I thought you might need food.”

“And do you see why I can’t stop talking about how great he is?” Cara’s eyes thanked him more than her lips ever could have.

“Call me.”

Without another word, he strolled to the door. Before it shut behind him, he overheard one woman squeal, “Girl, get thee to the altar yesterday. He is one
fine
piece of manhood!”

~*~*~*~

Faint strains of Celtic Woman’s “Innisfree” hovered around Cara’s door that evening. It was the one song Jonathan liked from the previous evening’s concert, and instead of knocking, he leaned against the doorjamb and listened. The faint tones of the harp mingled with the exceptional range of the vocalist, swirled from within Cara’s townhome and into his heart.
“But dreams don’t last; tho dreams are not forgotten…”

He knocked as the last few notes drifted into the momentary silence between songs. Cara’s voice called for him to come in, and Jonathan frowned. Had she already grown careless with her safety? Before he could articulate something to demonstrate his concern, Cara appeared from down the hallway.

His heart leapt into his throat. Cara stood in a strapless mini dress that looked nearly painted on her, her hair piled on her head, and wearing “the” heels. “So, do you like it?”

“I like you in it even more but—”

She repressed the urge to laugh as Jonathan struggled to tell her that her dress was inappropriate for a charity ball. Forcing her features into a mixture of hurt and disappointment, she sighed deeply and turned to leave. She whirled back and jerked the folded hemline down to her knees. “Would this work better?”

“I—”

As she walked back down the hallway, she forced her shoulders into a slump and dragged her feet just a little. Behind the door, she covered her mouth with her hand and giggled. His reaction—priceless.

As Carly helped Cara into her dress,
laughing and whispering about his expression, Cara wondered what kind of explanation he would come up with. A more perfect dress, she couldn’t imagine. The green brought out the deeper colors in her eyes, the fit was unparalleled, and she’d never felt more confident in her appearance, a quality that her mother insisted made her more attractive than anything else. She grabbed a matching clutch from the bed, hugged her friend, slipped through door, and walked down the hall.

As she reached Jonathan, Cara smiled at the beatific expression on his face and pushed his chin back in place. “You’ll catch flies, Jonathan. Didn’t your mother ever tell you that?” At the unspoken response, she laughed. “Thank you. It is flattering that you’d eat flies for me but quite unnecessary. I’ll settle for dinner. I’m starving.”

“How long have you been planning that?”

“A while.”

Before he could respond, the opening strains of “You Raise Me Up” drifted through the room. “She can play an incredible instrument; but seriously, why waste that kind of talent on this song?”

“Not a Groban fan?”

“Not a fan of this song, anyway. Seriously, it seems like every four years they have to take one song that might have been decent once—no one can remember—and then play it to death so that we can and do hear it in our sleep.”

“Some people call that dreamy music,” she teased as she went to turn off the CD player.

“More like a nightmare. Seriously, ‘I am strong when I am on your shoulder?’ Um, that would make you vulnerable.”

“That’s the point of the song.” She stood, finger poised to punch the stop button, and defended the lyrics. “It’s why I am convinced that regardless of the intent of the author, the ‘Your’ must be God, because only with Him are we stronger on His shoulder than off. And, sometimes when we make ourselves vulnerable, then is when God steps in and really does something through us.”

With a smile she’d begun to think he reserved only for her, Jonathan slipped his arms around her and danced slowly around her living room, avoiding the various furniture that interrupted their path. The simple two-step came naturally to the song, but when the music swelled, Jonathan swung her in an arc before he pulled her close again. Cara laughed, delighted. “Well, that’s one way to sweep me off my feet.”

“I’ll do it any way I can.”

As the song ended, she punched the button, knowing the next song on the track was her favorite, and she’d never leave if it came on. “Jonathan, you did it the evening you first called me Cara mia. I haven’t touched down yet.”

He started to reply, but her stomach growled. “Aak!” She hurried to the fridge, pulled out leftovers from his deli run, and stabbed a few pieces of cheese and turkey on toothpicks. “Let’s go before we miss the meal. I’ve been hungry all day. I hate it when that happens on an inconvenient day.”

His car zipped toward the Loop as Jonathan asked, “Is it ever convenient to spend all day eating?”

“Of course.” She laughed as she realized the meaning behind his words. “You want me to talk. Okay, I can talk
. As I said, of course it’s convenient on a nice, rainy, cold day when you have a stack of good movies or a book and a pantry and fridge full of good food—or aren’t too self-conscious to call every time you want something different.” Her eyes slid sideways. “I did that once.”

“Did what?”

“Called every restaurant that tempted me for anything and everything I wanted. I started off with that little bakery down by Westbury Foods. They deliver on Saturdays and Sundays. So I ordered half a dozen of my favorite donuts, my favorite coffee, some croissants, and I think a pan of rolls. I ate on that stuff for a week, but it was good.”

“Next?”

“Then I wanted Chinese. So, I ordered from the Lotus Wok.”

“You’re kidding.” He’d never heard a more ridiculous name.

“Nope. Crazy, huh? But they have the best Mongolian beef and Szechuan chicken… mmm… Oh, and crab rangoons. Oh, man.” She licked her lips unconsciously as she described the meal. “About an hour later, I was hungry again. Chinese food is just not filling. So, I ordered pizza.” Cara giggled. “Frank came to the door, shuffled his feet a bit, and then asked if I was pregnant.”

“What!”

“Well, seriously, what would you think of a single woman alone in her apartment who ordered three separate orders of food over the span of five hours. That held me over until around six with the chips and yogurt that I had. Then I ordered from Jacques.”

“Filet Mignon?”

“Prime Rib, sautéed veggies, and cheesecake.”

Jonathan laughed. “I bet you didn’t eat for three days!”

She shook her head before he finished, blushing. “Actually, no. It doesn’t happen every week, or even every few months, but when it happens, the next day is the same as any day.”

The car glided around the Rockland loop. Exits flew by as Jonathan whizzed through the lan
es and down the off ramp and onto Washington Boulevard. Their conversation flowed through the silence of the car. No music invaded their space or interrupted their thoughts. Cara exuded thanks for his self-control of the previous evening, while Jonathan assured her it was one of the most difficult things he’d ever done.

The topic of marriage entered their periphery and then drifted away again before either of them cou
ld put a voice to the desire. Though too soon, they also knew it might be time to consider it. They knew so little of each other while being so unified in thought and understanding. Cara knew that a relationship with Jonathan would take months, possibly years to develop, but to be realistic, they didn’t have that long. Their attraction, would lead to compromised convictions if they spent too much time alone together. “I know.” They were the first words spoken since the discussion of her starvation days. Her voice reverberated through the car.

“
Tomorrow—let’s discuss it tomorrow.”

Valet service met them at the portico and whisked his rental car off into the cavernous parking garage down the street, leaving Jonathan and Cara to enter the Rockland Towers alone. Jonathan accepted a deposit box key and slipped it into his pocket as Cara slid her purse into the slot. Music danced around them as they entered the dining hall next to the Grand Ballroom. Schubert was the last thing Cara expected to hear at a function such as this.

“Seriously? Schubert?”

“Piano Sonata in D. One of my favorites.”

She heard what he didn’t say. “And enjoy it while I can because the ballroom will be noisier?”

“Something like that.”

Suddenly, Cara felt completely out of her element. It was, in an ironic twist, as though their personalities switched bodies. Jonathan met people as they crossed the room to their table, introduced her to them, asked about their businesses, their horses, their children, their dogs, and even their vacations. How he knew so much about the lives of so many people, she couldn’t imagine.

Meanwhile, she stood, smiling but tongue-tied, as per
son after person shook her hand, complimented her dress, and asked how she and Jonathan met. The sea of faces blurred until Cara didn’t know if she’d remember to whom she was introduced and who she wasn’t. Disgusted with herself, she whispered an excuse into Jonathan’s ear and started to search for the restrooms.

“Out in the lobby, toward the restaurant on the left,” he whispered back. In a more conversational tone, he smiled down at her and said, “You know I’m going to be counting minutes—seconds even.” To the couple he’d stopped to talk with, he added, “Isn’t she just beautiful!”

When Cara reached the double doors, she glanced back and saw Jonathan watching her from across the room. That constancy buoyed her spirits in a way nothing else he could have said or done ever would have. Feeling more confident already, she strolled to the restrooms, smiled at the attendant that opened the door for her, and stepped into the powder anteroom.

The room was mercifully empty. Standing in front of the mirror, she gave herself a stern, silent
lecture as she pulled at a hair here, and readjusted her necklace there.
You’re not out of your league. This is your new league, woman. Now get in there and make him proud. He needs you.
Internal chastisement over, she surveyed herself once more.
You look good. Mom picked the perfect fabric, and you chose the perfect style. Go out there and show them all that you can carry it off.

It worked. By the time Cara returned to Jonathan’s side, she felt much more at ease. She laughed at the jokes, asked intelligent questions, and carried her part of the conversation with the kind of vivacity and flair that she usually displayed. Jonathan, however, remained the outgoing, charming man who had
entered the building with her—much to her surprise. Not until a man’s hand tapped her shoulder did even one of his characteristic silences surface, and even then, not for long.