Speak Now (43 page)

“Discussion, Jonathan!” At the look of frustrated incredulity on his face, she shook her head. “No, I’m not asking you to talk when you don’t have or want to. I’m talking about opening up to me. We can usually carry on entire conversations without you saying more than a dozen words, but you’re not conversing here, you’
re—something else.”

“I’m lost.”

“Clearly.” She sighed. “You just keep making decisions for us without consulting the other half of us. You didn’t do that in Rockland. What changed?”

He couldn’t answer that question. As much as he wanted to, he just didn’t know. “I—”

“Home, Jonathan. Just get me home.”

“Home as in…”

She whirled to face him, her eyes taking in the pain and confusion in his face. Cara willed her anger to dissipate, but it wouldn’t. “Why do you keep acting like I’m looking for an excuse to leave you? Are you trying to get rid of me? If you’ve changed your mind, just
say so
!”

“Cara…”

“What am I supposed to think? Every other minute, you’re asking me if I want to leave you. This is called a misunderstanding. People have them. Didn’t you ever have misunderstandings with Lily?”

“That would be called our marriage. Remember, I pretended to be a conversationalist?” He kicked the tire. “It failed.”

“Well, you’re doing it again. You’re trying to be someone you’re not out of some misplaced something that I can’t even imagine, so listen here, and listen good. The Jonathan Lyman that I met at the wedding, who I spent the best week of my life with, and who flew back to Rockland to ask me to marry him, who doesn’t speak with a lot of words but still converses with me—that’s the Jonathan I fell in love with and the man I expect to find wherever we are.”

Time crawled as their eyes met and a new conversation began—this one, silent. His heart told her he was sorry; her anger told him how
deeply he hurt her. Every thought, every emotion, every repressed inclination to touch knit their hearts back together, but the problem that began the breach remained unresolved. Silently, he pleaded for understanding, just as, wordlessly, she asked what had happened to
her
Jonathan.

As her face pooled along her jaw, waiting to drip onto her shirt, Cara decided to try to retrieve some semblance of her self-respect. “You said Verna wanted us to discuss something? Can that be done at home or should we go back inside?”

Swallowing hard, Jonathan jerked his thumb. “Home isn’t a good one—not for that.”

As if trapped in some kind of warped déjà vu, they once again sat in the nursery, Jonathan in the rocking chair, Cara on the couch. Her hands twisted the strap of her purse nervously; he fought to find a way to open up the most difficult conversation he’d ever had to try. For one crazy moment, he almost wished back the prior angry tension.

“It’s about Lily…”

“Jonathan, you don’t have to share anything from—”

“Verna says I do. I had no idea she knew the things she knew, but she did. She says it’s going to make things awkward and difficult unless it’s out in the open.”

Cara leaned forward. “That’s fine, but it doesn’t have to be done today. You can tell me next week, next month, next year—”

“That’s just it. I can’t wait that long—it’s a bit—” Jonathan swallowed hard. “Personal.”

“Okay, but why is it so imperative? Why can’t we talk about it when you’re ready? Why today rather than next—”

“Because it’s going to affect us immediately after the wedding. His jaw clenched. “I think. I mean, I hope not, but Verna is sure…”

Sudden understanding hit Cara. He had impotence problems. Somehow, she had to make him understand that it would be okay. They had therapy for that kind of thing if it became a problem. She reached for his hand and pulled him to the couch beside her. “It’s okay, Jonathan. I understand. Lots of couples have these kinds of problems. We’ll get through it. For all we know, all this waiting will help with things, but if not, we’ll see a doctor and get help. I’ll—” She stopped mid-sentence, his laughter drowning out her reassurances. “What is so funny?”

“I’m not impotent, Cara. That’s about as opposite of the problem as we can get.” He choked back a fresh wave of chuckles and smiled at her. His hand reached for hers, but he pulled it back, as usual, crossing his arms to force himself to show necessary restraint. “It was Lily. She loved me, Cara, she did, but some things about being married, she hated.”

Face flaming, Cara swallowed hard. “And I need to know this why?”

“Verna thinks it’s going to affect our—”

“I get it. Why?”

He shrugged. “I think because I spent so many years avoiding my wife, except for our carefully scheduled times together and then—”

“Got it. Okay, let’s get something straight. I’m not Lily.” She shook her head. “No, it’s more than that. Um, let’s just say that’s not going to be a problem in our marriage… my problem is getting from now to the altar without it, so can we just agree that we’ll talk about all this after we’ve had a chance to see how things work? Because, I gotta tell you,” Cara bit her lip. “I can’t decide whether to laugh or cry, and considering ten minutes ago I could have cheerfully torn off your head, either of them is a good substitution for Sleepy Hollow.”

“Okay, but—”

“AAAK! Tell Verna we talked and drop it, okay? Now, one more thing.”

“What?”

“Are there any other surprises I need to know about this marriage? Will we be moving in with your mom or your uncle? Do I need to sign some prenuptial this or that? Do women in your family not work or something? I need not to have this kind of shock again.”

“That’s it!” Relief washed over Jonathan’s features. “That’s why I did something so stupid.”

“What is? Which stupid?”

“Funny,” he growled. He reached for her again and pulled back quicker than ever. “Lily didn’t work. We moved around my work needs. I’ve never had to consider another career before, so I just didn’t think.”

“Now, you do. So think.” She grabbed tissue from her purse and mopped up the last remnants of her makeup. “I think they’re closing. The AC isn’t coming back on, and I’ll run out of tissue if I keep having to mop this stuff up. I need ice cream.”

He grinned. “That’s my Cara mia. Let’s go. I know just the place.”

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I know.”

“I still love you.”

He glanced down just in time to see her swallow hard and blink back a few stray tears. “I know. I think I really do know.”

“And…”

“I love you, Cara mia.”

Her smile punched the air from his lungs. “I’m never going to get tired of hearing that. Never.”

“Good.”

~*~*~*~

Foolishly, Cara thought they’d resolved all of the issues that could possibly arise. The reaction of the children astounded her. Bryce clammed up tighter than Jonathan, and Riley unleashed her wrath upon every person in her path. However, when Verna heard the news, she nodded, excused herself, and went to call her children to inform them of her intention to move to Rockland. Cara watched the melee around her with dismay that nearly broke her heart.

Her understanding of Jonathan as a parent had never been fully formed, but with their reaction to the news, she saw that wonderful miracle that men work with children. Almost without speaking, he gathered his children together, met their eyes, uttered just a few firm but loving words, and sent them to decide what things they wouldn’t want to take with them. Unable to keep her amazement from her tone, she asked, “How did you do that? You—”

“They’re used to me. They know I mean business.”

“Wow.” She frowned. “Verna doesn’t have to come if she doesn’t want to.”

“No, she definitely wants to come. She’s like family.”

“But her family is here. How can she leave them?”

“How can she leave us? She’ll do it because she loves us. We’ll get her home for as many weekends as possible.”

A new thought occurred to Cara. “What about us? There’s no room for her in my townhouse. We’ll have to move.”
After one look at Jonathan’s face, she nodded. “I’ll call Mom and ask her to find me a realtor. Square footage?”

“I think anything under three thousand will feel cramped to us.”

“Pool?” His affirmative narrowed the area of their search considerably. “In Rockland, or what about one of the surrounding towns?” Grinning, she said, “I suppose forty-five miles is too much?”

“If you want Fairbury, then start there.”

“We’ll need a place for Verna, right? Inside the house or detached only?”

“Depending on the locale, if it’s within walking distance and has a guest room, we can get her a separate house if necessary.”

“Too expensive in Fairbury. That’d be excessive. Homes aren’t cheap there, but I’ve always loved it.”

“Consider it an investment. If there are any small homes near larger developments...” As he spoke, Jonathan whipped out his phone and called his uncle. “Don’t we have a few rentals in Fairbury? Are any of them vacant or vacating in the next three months?” Seconds passed—seconds in which she could only imagine that Weston Lyman had to look up the information.
Surely, he wouldn’t know the status of rentals off the top of his head. A minute later, Jonathan asked for a link to the listings they had and disconnected again. “We’ve got options.”

“Should I use your realtor?”

“Not necessary. Find someone you want to work with.”

They strolled outside and sank into a double lounger, as close together as they could be without touching. The evening was hot—muggy. Had Cara not already stripped all traces of her makeup from her skin, she would have looked like a surrealist painting, with her mascara dribbling around her cheeks and her lipstick hanging at an awkward angle at the base of her neck like a warped pendant.
She made a mental note.
Learn to use mineral makeup.

As the sun set, she slowly relaxed, the tension of
the past days easing from her. “Remember Chicago?”

“Yeah.”

His response surprised her. He rarely responded audibly to such questions. Those simple answers were usually left for her to understand. “You know what we talked about at the church?” That time his eyes answered in the affirmative. “Well, I think Chicago is proof that we’re not going to have trouble. It’s really going to be okay—better than okay.”

She entered her home with a lack of enthusiasm she’d never felt since the day she purchased it. Cara loved her little townhouse with the large upstairs master suite, the perfect little kitchen, and her personally-designed craft room. She’d have to sell it. That thought alone overwhelmed her. In fact, she was certain she’d fall apart if she had to think of it yet.

She
left her suitcase in the spare room, kicked off her shoes, and collapsed on the couch with her laptop. According to her mom, half a dozen realtors had taken the possibility of finding a house for Jonathan Lyman as the opportunity of a lifetime.

As she opened her inbox, it flooded with everything from questions about shoes for bridesmaids to a house not five blocks from hers. Pictures of every house nearly choked her, but Cara scrolled through them, waiting for Jonathan to return her text saying that she’d arrived home. One promising house in Marshfield intrigued her enough that she forwarded it to Jonathan. It seemed reasonably priced—just barely the required three thousand square feet. It even had a pool.

~*~*~*~

Jonathan’s email stunned her. The dismissive words, “I’m afraid it won’t suit,” seemed cold—clipped. He requested three thousand square feet.
He wanted a pool. He insisted on four bedrooms. The house filled the bill. She stared at the words. They looked like something she’d hear on a British TV show.

Cara glanced at the clock.
Twenty minutes and she could leave. Just twenty minutes. Twenty minutes ago she’d cleared her desk. Anything she started now would mean staying late.

She clicked on her personal email account and scrolled through the dozens of property offers.
Three more options flew across the information highway to an Atlanta office. Almost simultaneously, two property suggestions arrived in her inbox—followed by a housing budget. Her eyes bugged.

When opinion on all three properties arrived in her inbox, Cara stared at it, trying to absorb the ramifications of what he’d said. The short note left no doubt about his opinions.

I think we should keep looking—maybe in a different area. I don’t want to have to move twice when we find something we really want. Is there undeveloped property in Fairbury? Maybe we could take rooms for Verna at a hotel until something is built. Love you, Jonathan.

“Rooms at a hotel. Seriously?” Frustrated, Cara stared at the budget he’d given her again. It seemed excessive. Curiosity prompted her to look up Jonathan’s property in Georgia, and she gulped at the price. Grabbing her purse, and ignoring the ten minutes she still owed her company, Cara rushed from the building and into her car.

It took twice as long to get to her parents’ house as it ever had, but she managed to make it in one piece. She wandered through the empty kitchen and stood, spinning in a circle in the living room, until the sound of the sewing machine told her where she’d find her mother.