Speak Now (9 page)

A couple of teens walking past snickered as they overheard that last snippet of conversation. Jonathan’s ears flamed brighter and Cara laughed even louder. “I love it when you’re embarrassed. Come on, tell me; what did you think of my house—all of it? I want to know what you learned about me today.” She hesitated and lowered her voice, pulling his ear closer as she did. “I have to take advantage of your willingness to talk.”

He began to protest, but her eyes pleaded with him. “Well, the first thing I noticed when I walked in was that you like antiques. I mean, I noticed that the other night, but even more so today. You have antique collections everywhere. Linens, those little egg cups that my grandma used to use, thimbles, old books, clocks— What is with the clocks everywhere?”

“I like clocks—especially ones you wind.”

“I noticed they are all perfectly synchronized. Do you wind them all every day?”

She nodded, grinning. “Or every week for some. I love my little clocks.” Before she could ask another question, she lurched to the side, nearly falling. Jonathan, without missing a beat, grabbed her around the waist and steadied her for a moment before he let his arm fall naturally to his side again.

“You okay?”

One look at her expression and he knew what she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—say. Yes, he had physically saved her from a face full of concrete, but somehow in that moment, she realized—as did he—that she had fallen and she’d fallen hard. “Depends on what you mean,” she muttered under her breath. “So that doesn’t tell me what you learned about me.”

“I keep trying not to fall, too, but I’m not doing any better than you are, Cara mia.” He spoke with a quiet firmness—no embarrassment or hesitation in his voice—choosing each word with deliberate care. They
fell from his lips more freely than most words ever did for Jonathan Lyman.

With a nod of understanding, Cara redirected the conversation to safer territory. “What did you learn about me that you hadn’t guessed?”

“Well, your fridge intrigued me.” He still didn’t know what to make of it, but her carbs comment made him curious. “Okay, is this the kebob place?”

Hands full of shrimp, beef, chicken, vegetable, and even grilled fruit kebobs, Jonathan led them to a nearby bench where an elderly couple had begun cleaning up after their own picnic dinner. “Are you staying?”

The gentleman shook his head. “Just leaving, son. Enjoy. We had one of those fruit ones and they were utterly delicious.”

Once settled into place, Cara brought the discussion back to the topic at hand. “So about that fridge? What about it intrigued you?”

“I saw a fridge with a full shelf of Slim-Fast, salad materials, and fruit. Tell me you’re not on a diet?”

Cara’s cheeks darkened into a deep rose
. She sipped her water bottle and shrugged. “I’m just so round that I try to keep the calories down, but I like good food too.” With an embarrassed glance and a shrug, she added. “Meal drinks aren’t exactly filling or all that tasty.”

A full mouth gave Jonathan a few seconds to consider if he should be honest or evasive. He chose honest, and as he chewed the tender, marinated beef, he mentally rehearsed what to say. Swallowing, he took a drink of water and then turned his full attention on Cara. She stared at her kebob as though unsure if she should allow herself to take another bite.

“Cara…” Her shoulders drooped a bit as he fumbled for the words that he hoped might free her from what he considered a ridiculous idea. He sighed. “I’m just going to be honest, okay?”

She nodded, refusing to look at him. “I’d prefer it.”

“I think—” That wouldn’t work. “Okay, I don’t want to presume to tell you what to do—”
That’s even worse!

“Spit it out.” The defeat in her voice wrenched his heart. Cara dropped the kebob and reached for a napkin as she did.

“I—” he swallowed hard. “I like you just the way you are. There are too many curveless women in this world.”

“You’re joking, right?” Even as she said it, Jonathan saw her expression change as she realized he spoke the absolute truth. “But surely your wife—”

Suddenly, Jonathan didn’t want to talk anymore. He realized that he’d blown it. Cara felt inadequate compared to Lily, and he assumed he’d caused it. Without a word, he disposed of their trash, helped her to her feet, and led her back to the fried pie cart. With an apple for her and a cherry for him, he pointed across the playground to the gazebo on the other side.

Cara nodded. They skated slowly, Jonathan trying to discern where he’d gone wrong and trying to discover how to undo the mess he thought he’d created. From the listless way she nibbled at the pie, he suspected she felt utterly rejected. He just didn’t know why.

At the gazebo, Jonathan knelt beside her and removed her skates as she sat on the steps. He removed his own skates and hung both pairs over the railing. Taking her arm, he led her to the edge of the bench inside and indicated for her to sit before taking his place in front of her. He forced down the lump in his throat and asked, “Do I talk too much?”

The question seemed to confuse her. “What do mean? Of course, you don’t talk too much. You hardly talk at all. Over seventy-five percent of our time together has either been in silence or with me doing all the talking. Why would you—”
Cara stopped mid verbal explosion. “You meant it.”

“I meant it.”

“Lily—she was tall and thin though, wasn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“And you were attracted to her?” Cara persisted.

“Yes.”

“But you’re also attracted to me?”

Jonathan allowed every ounce of sincerity he felt to infuse into each word. “More than I’ve ever been attracted to anyone.”

“But Lily was tall and thin and beautiful—”

“Inside, yes.”

It took Cara a moment to process his words. “She had a lovely personality? Is that what you mean?”

“Yes.” He felt like a robot, giving minimalistic answers
—almost as though deliberately fighting the superfluity of words.

“But Riley is so pretty… and Bryson is
such a handsome little dude… surely Lily was physically beautiful as well.”

“She was to me, but if I am honest with myself, no. Most people wouldn’t say she was a beautiful woman—at least physically speaking she wasn’t.”

Cara shook her head uncomprehendingly. “I don’t believe you. It’s really nice of you to—”

Without a word, Jonathan reached into his back pocket, pulled out a copy of their engagement picture, and passed it to her. Her frown told him she thought he’d handed her the worst picture he could find, so he passed her his entire wallet. “That’s probably the best picture of Lily. She was incredibly photogenic.”

Jonathan knew she couldn’t mistake his sincerity, but he pulled out a family photo as well. Cara stared at each picture, trying to see what he meant and finally gave up, asking, “What do you mean by photogenic?”

“She always looked more… something in pictures. In person she was rather plain, if you didn’t know her well, but in pictures she has a sparkle that wasn’t there in real life.”

Cara glanced at the pictures once more. “I felt inadequate.”

“I know you did.”

“I thought,” she flushed as she fumbled for words. “I thought you must be comparing us, and I just knew I’d come up wanting.”

“I know.”

“Instead,” Cara added miserably, “at the risk of sounding horribly vain, I can see that I’m—” the words refused to come.

“You’re a beautiful woman. Lily was to me and to her parents… even to Bryson, but….”

“But she wasn’t so—”

Jonathan stopped her. Taking a deep breath, he spoke when he wanted nothing more than silence. To his relief, he saw that she sensed it. “I can’t compare you with her. You are two very different women. I never compared Lily to my mother, and I won’t compare you to her.” He laid his fingers on her lips as Cara tried to speak. “I don’t know where the sudden insecurity came from. It’s not like you. If I hadn’t already seen that, I would have learned it today from your home. You’re usually very comfortable with who you are, but there’s something about your weight or shape or something that bothers you, and when you let it take root, it corrupts your thinking.”

Cara nodded. “You’re right.”

He stood, extended his hand, and pulled Cara to her feet. Standing so close, he could read the doubt in her eyes, and under his gaze, he watched her self-confidence slowly return, but a hint of hesitation lingered somewhere in her heart. He could see it.

Jonathan stepped back across the entry to the gazebo and leaned against the other side. He crossed his arms and stared at her for several minutes, his eyes traveling over her from head to toe and back again, meeting her eyes for many long moments as he did. A slow smile spread over his face and Cara blushed again.

“You wouldn’
t change anything.” Cara didn’t question; she spoke with confidence and assurance.

“Not one.”

As if she couldn’t resist one last reassurance on the biggest difference between herself and the woman Jonathan had loved first, Cara whispered, “Even my height?”

With two swift steps, Jonathan stood next to her and wrapped an arm around her for a moment, tucking her head into his chest before he released her again. He smiled, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Especially not your height.”

At eleven-thirty, a steady stream of personnel disappeared out the door as the office slowly emptied
. While the call of lunch tables all over the city drew everyone from the building, Cara smiled and took a deep breath. The office finally emptied. From that moment until the clock clicked one o’clock, she had the place to herself—aside from the occasional ringing phone. The best part of her day. Her cellphone skittled across the desk as it buzzed, announcing a text message. She smiled at Jonathan’s text. HAVING TROUBLE DECIDING WHERE WE SHOULD EAT. HAVE IDEAS?

Cara flipped through the office take-out notebook. Five minutes and one order later, she sent back a quick text. 43223 WATERBROOK. PICK UP AT 12:50 SHARP. THEN COME GET ME. Seconds later, she sent another text. MISS YOU JONAFAN

Her laughter rang out across the room as she saw the reply. AM I STILL THE HANDSOMEST MAN YOU’VE EVER MET?

RILEY TOLD! CHEATER. Wendy from accounting stalked through the office and slammed quarterly reports onto Cara’s desk as she typed out her reply.

“Something wrong, Wendy?”

“Men are pigs.” Before Cara could reply, the woman stormed from the room, knocking over the receptionist’s inbox as she did.

“Well,” Cara muttered under her breath as she hurried to try to restore order to Tina’s workspace, “I happen to know one who’s not.”

She had just over an hour to think of a fun place to eat Chinese. Jonathan had made each afternoon such an enjoyable treat, she wanted to come up with something equally fun and not too time consuming, but where could they eat their lunch now that she’d arranged it? Before she could come up with a viable option, her cellphone erupted with “
She works hard for her money…”

She
slid open her phone. “Hey, Derek. I just got the reports from Wendy, and I was going to fax them over.”

“Why can’t she— Oh. It’s lunchtime. I still don’t get why you hang around there…”

“It gives Tina lunch out with friends or with her husband. He’s only got six months, max. I can take a late lunch so she can eat with him.”

“He’s still working?” Derek’s voice sounded deceptively bored. Papers shuffled, and he murmured at the appropriate places as Cara gave him the latest update on the dying man’s condition and his attempts to keep working.

“If he makes it until October, he can retire with full benefits for both of them.” She sighed. “He’ll probably kill himself doing it, but he wants her covered.”

After a few noncommittal grunts, Derek snapped to attention. “Okay, faxes just came through. I see the Loss Reserves adjustment needs to be refigured. Get Locksley on that.”

“Did his parents have to name him Robin?”

Derek laughed. “I think that every single time I say or hear his name.”

She laughed as she made a note. “At least their last name wasn’t Hood.”

“Is the presentation ready for the board meeting Wednesday?”

“I’ve made some adjustments to it. Wayne left out the internet department completely. I won’t be done until Tuesday, I’m sure.”

“I’d like to look it over before the meeting, Cara. Can you have it on my desk by Monday?”
Derek asked, expecting to hear an unequivocal “yes.”

Silence hung on the line. Her boss spoke her name twice before she answered. “Sorry, Derek. Um, there’s a problem.”

“What?”

“I’m not free this weekend. I can’t give it my full attention until Tuesday. I’ve gotten some done, but…”

“What’s up?” The full attention of Mayflower Trust’s CFO latched onto his usually eager to please assistant.

“I’ve got plans this weekend.”

“Oh, right. The wedding. I forgot about that. Of course, take your time. I’ll come in and review the presentation early Wednesday.”