Speak Now (39 page)

Originally, the dress had
plunged too deeply for decency, but Diane had found a way to stitch the folds of crimson chiffon to cover most of her cleavage. It had been one of Cara’s mother’s few failures. The skirt hit just above the knee and was flirty enough to look perfect for a night of clubbing—not exactly the look Cara tried to achieve in any of her wardrobe choices. However, the dress flattered her more than anything else she owned, the fabric had been expensive, and neither Cara nor Diane had been willing to part with it. It had hung, unworn, in the closet for over a year. Though it felt strange to wear it for an evening at home, Cara refused not to wear it now that she had the chance.

Next, she put on her key
pendant and her diamond earrings. Her hair looked best up with the dress, but she let it hang in its customary waves. Shoes, perfume, and touched up makeup and she was ready for anything—or so she hoped. The doorbell rang just as she was ready to go back downstairs. Unwilling to be under scrutiny, she waited until the door shut and then reached for her doorknob. After one last glance in the mirror, one last adjustment to the bodice, the skirt, and one last check to make sure her toenails were not chipped, she opened the door.

Jonat
han looked up from where he loaded plates with food and swallowed. Twice. “Take your plate before I do something really stupid.”

“I take it you approve.”

“You know I do. I’ll be there in a minute. Just have to find your hot pads—want to protect your table.”

“Drawer next to the stove, at the back.” Cara took the plate and carried it to the couch.

The silence of the meal surprised neither of them. Without even the familiar glances that so often spoke volumes, they somehow communicated as they ate, allowing themselves to revel in the realization of what the night would mean for them. It felt juvenile, but Cara wondered if he’d kiss her. Jonathan wondered how he’d manage not to. Both of them wondered if waiting for a wedding wouldn’t prove to be foolish in the end.

Jonathan carried their empty plates into the kitchen and grabbed the water carafe to refill their glasses. When he returned, instead of resuming his place on the opposite corner of the couch, he hunkered down on his heels in front of her, pulling a handkerchief from his slacks. He untied it, slipped the ring from the twisted fabric, and held it between his thumb and index fingers.

“Last night, I held this, wondering if you’d like it, praying you’d really accept it, hoping I didn’t go crazy before the first.” He swallowed again, took a sip of wine, and his eyes fell on the key around her neck. He smiled as he struggled to speak, when all he wanted to do was hold her and know everything was settled.

“Jonafan?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t need a big speech.”

He smiled at all she didn’t say. “Marry me?”

“September twenty-sixth?”

He nodded. “Unless you think we can pull off the nineteenth.

“Do you promise to make it to the right church?”

“Hey, I made it to the right one last time,” he laughed. “Eventually.”

“I’ll marry you under one condition then.”

“What’s that?”

“You fork over that ring.” She held out her hand for him to slip it onto her finger.

“Who knew she was so mercenary?”

Cara shook her head. “I’m not. I’d be happy with a piece of string as long as you were attached, but no one is going to believe it without that ring, so I want it.”

“You do not know how badly I want to kiss you.”

“And you
do
know what a very bad idea that’d be, so thank you for resisting. I couldn’t if you tried.” She pointed to the packet on her breakfast bar. “How about you get those invitations before we discover we’re not as self-controlled as we think.”

“Deal.”

As he retrieved the package, Jonathan asked, “So what do we know about this wedding?”

“According to Trenna, Westbury Fellowship and Rockland Congregational are both available that day. She says RC allows outside ministers to perform ceremonies, so we can have whoever we want.”

“Okay, that’s good. I’m fine with either, but I think Rockland Congregational is larger. What about reception?”

“She has The Oak
es upper floor reserved for us.”

“Lily considered that,” he mused as he handed her the envelope. “They weren’t available on our day.”

“Is it a bad idea?” Cara prayed he’d say no. The pictures of the rooms at The Oakes were gorgeous, and onsite catering made everything easier.

“No, not at all. I’m glad you got it.”

They spread out the invitations and immediately discarded two. After looking over them again, Cara pointed at three more. “I really like those, but I like these better.”

“I concur, except that I don’t like that one much either.” Jonathan pointed
to one of Cara’s favorites.

“Then out it goes. That leaves three. Which is your least favorite of those three?”

They each looked over the cards, weighed their features, and finally both pointed to the center one. “That one.”

With two cards left, Cara jumped up and grabbed a zip lock bag. “I’ll tell Trenna to pick between them as far as our colors go and such. I don’t know if we have enough contrast for this one.”

“What are the colors?”

“Champagne for the girls’ gowns, pale pink for flowers and Riley.” She looked apologetic. “Sorry, I just couldn’t think of anything else that would look good on everyone.”

“I forgot to tell you. I have a cousin, Chloe, who should probably be a bridesmaid, if possible.”

“
I have three—possibly four, and told Trenna four to six, so we’re good. If there are more, let me know.” She sank back into the overstuffed couch and frowned. “Is this all too much to deal with? I mean, you’ve already been through all of it. We could just go get a license and talk to Vince after church—”

“As wonderful as that sounds, no. We’d regret not having a memorable celebration.” Jonathan allowed his finger to trace the large square solitaire on Cara’s left hand. “This is your wedding, Cara. Enjoy it.”

“What can we ask your mom to do in order to make her feel more a part of it?”

“Is Trenna’s photographer available?”

Cara shook her head. “Krista is booked that day.”

“Let Mom handle it. She’ll love securing the best at the last second. It’s a hobby with her.”

“Mom is shopping for fabric tomorrow.”

“For your gown?”

She nodded. “Yep. I couldn’t decide between two, so I combined them. I expect by the time I get back from Atlanta, Mom’ll be ready to poke me within an inch of my life.” Cara looked at him curiously. “What will your children say?”

“They’ll be relieved. Riley wanted me to hire you as a mommy.”

“Hire, hmmmmm.” She glanced down at her ring. “This is some payment for a job I’d do free.”

“Oh, and I am under orders from Verna to make sure you know that the ring is not an investment.”

“Of course it is. It’s an investment into our relationship.” She fingered the stone absently. “The funny thing is; I think I would have assumed I wouldn’t like something like this, but it’s perfect.” She glanced at his face and smiled at his pleasure. Jonathan looked tired. How long they sat there, speaking nothing and allowing their hearts to interweave new threads to their relationship, neither ever remembered.

Carly and Tina pounced the next morning when Cara arrived, her ring feeling like an anvil on her hand. She’d been tempted to hide it but realized how foolish she’d be to do something so futile. Her engagement would be in Sunday’s paper. She swallowed hard. Sunday’s paper. Wow.

“I knew it! I knew something like this was coming. You’ve been making all those calls behind closed doors and everything—”

Odd glances from over cubicle partitions told her she couldn’t hide it anymore. “Okay, I have an announcement, everyone, so listen up. I am engaged to Jonathan Lyman. Yes, he’s one of
those
Lymans, for those who care about such things. Furthermore, we’re getting married quickly—September twenty-sixth, so before more speculation begins, the answer is no. I am not pregnant.”

“Doesn’t he live in Atlanta?” Robin’s voice came from the corner of the room where he stood filling his coffee mug with hot water.

“Yes.”

“So you’ll be moving?” Tina sounded ready to cry.

“We haven’t talked about it, but since he’s been planning a move to Rockland anyway, I imagine he’ll be moving here.” Cara glanced around her. “Any other questions?”

“Are we all invited?” Derek’s voice behind her sent a wave of uncertainty over her.

“Definitely. So, if you want an invite, get your mailing address to my inbox by Friday. The invitations go out in a week and a half.”

Marla called out from her cubicle, “So what’s the rush?”

“Have you ever
seen
Jonathan Lyman?” Carly stood with hands on hips, waiting for Marla’s reply.

“Well, yeah, who hasn’t?”

Carly shook her head. “You’ve seen him—probably waiting for Cara in the daily office huddle last spring—and you can ask that question?”

The room erupted in snickers as Cara rolled her eyes at her friend and stepped into her office. She had a lot of work to do to be prepared
to be gone for two weeks—wherever Jonathan would take her. Her inbox flooded with emails as she booted up her laptop. She stared, stunned, as nine hundred fourteen emails loaded—thirteen of them into her spam folder. She scrolled through them and saw repeated subjects welcoming her to all kinds of mailing lists. Everything from daily horoscopes to coupons for dog food stared back at her, mocking.

“Tina!” Cara knew she sounded panicked. Forget that, she
was
panicked.

“What’s wrong?”

“I need a new email address immediately. Get Rod in tech to give me one as Cara Lyman—” She paused. “Wait. Um, on second thought, go through my email, unsubscribe from everything you know doesn’t fit me, and forward the stuff I need to deal with today to my gmail account. I’ll talk to Jonathan before I go with the email change.”

“What happened?”

“Check my email. You’ll see.”

Jonathan’s phone went to voice mail. She hesitated, not wanting to blow the thing out of proportion, and then decided to text it after all. EMAIL COMPROMISED. NEED A NEW ONE. SHOULD I CHANGE NAME ON IT NOW OR DO AGAIN IN 6 WEEKS? Even as she reread it, she knew what he’d say, and that knowledge made her feel even more ridiculous. Even so, if anyone questioned, she’d be able to say truthfully that he’d suggested it.

Her phone sang Jonathan’s ringtone and she read his message eagerly. IF I SAY NOW DO I GET THE PRIVILEGES OF THE OFFICE? JK. DO IT. IT’S A HASSLE FOR EVERYONE INCLUDING YOU. SAVE EVERYONE THE TROUBLE. Now, that was the kind of answer Cara liked to hear. Before she could tell Tina to order the new email, she got another message. WHAT HAPPENED?

Her fingers flew over her Blackberry keys as she described the flood of emails. SOMEONE MUST HAVE SIGNED ME UP FOR EVERY EMAIL LIST IN THE COUNTRY.

Several minutes passed, but by the time she had Tina on the phone with tech support, Jonathan had replied to her text. DELLA?

Her heart sank. She hadn’t even considered that possibility. In fact, she would have guessed Jacob first. Before she could text a response, Tina ducked her head in Cara’s office and asked, “Are you sure you want to unsubscribe from Madame Giuliani’s Psychic reading, the Chippendale man of the day calendar, and Alcoholics Anonymous’ daily encouragement email? You wouldn’t want to fall off the wagon again…”

“Well, fine, keep the chips, but the rest have to go.”

“If I didn’t know you were kidding,” Tina quipped, “I’d do it just to spite you.”

Laughing, Cara slid her phone across the desk. “You answer to Jonathan for it then.”

“Oh yeah, that’s why I came in. Rod made you [email protected]. He said he’d switch all internal address books, but you’ll have to notify anyone outside the company.”

Her fingers flew across the keyboard, composing an apologetic letter regarding the change in email. For a moment, they hovered over the keys, as she contemplated how to request that people not give out her email without permission. There had to be a way to do it without sounding demanding or paranoid. Before she could finish, the calls and responsibilities of the day attacked from all sides. Email, though essential to her job, wasn’t as important as the acquisitions fiscal reports and the restructuring data.

~*~*~*~

“Sorry, Jonathan, you’re going to have to talk wedding with me. I don’t want to inadvertently offend your family by choosing chicken over fish or mushrooms over truffles.”

“I can talk. I’ve learned to dislike it more than I ever did, but I can do it. What do you need to know?”

“Why you like it less is a good start.” Jonathan’s words unsettled her. She didn’t need him to fill her conversational needs. She had friends, the children would likely talk with her, she had her mother, and if things kept going the way they were, probably Jonathan’s mother as well. She had no reason to rely on him for conversation, but it still bothered her slightly to think that he had less interest in talking now.