by Hazel Yeats
“So how have you been?” she said. “You look really well. I’ve never seen you wearing a dress.”
“Few people have.” Jude looked her over. “You look well too. You look lovely, actually. I like your hair like that.”
“There are times when I try to imagine your face,” Cara said, “and I can’t.”
Jude didn’t speak.
“So…” Cara said. The door to the bar opened. Two young men walked out. One of them took a step toward Cara, but before he could open his mouth, his friend grabbed him by the sleeve of his coat and dragged him away. They were both struggling to keep their balance.
“You were saying?” said Jude, when they were out of earshot.
“I…uh…was just wondering…” Cara cleared her throat, “…if you’re okay. If you’re…you know…happy. If I…can ask you that. I really hope you are. I guess you’re seeing someone new by now.”
Okay, it was transparent. Cara didn’t care. After all, what better time to take risks than when you have nothing left to lose.
Jude shook her head. “No. I’m not. I’m not seeing someone new. Or old. I thought I’d give myself a break from love. Like the rest of my life. How about you?”
Cara looked up at the stars, considering her answer. “Would you believe me if I told you I entered a convent?”
“Really? You know what they say nuns get up to after dark, don’t you?”
Cara shook her head. “No. What?”
“Never mind.”
“How’s Zoe?”
“She’s good. Better. Well behaved actually.”
“What happened?”
“I guess it was mostly…good parenting.” Jude tapped herself on the shoulder. “And lots of bribes.” She shrugged. “Or maybe she just snapped out of it. I guess it was a phase. A recurring phase, no doubt.”
Cara looked down at the cobblestones, glistening in the moonlight. “I guess so,” she said. “Tell me. Do you…hate me?”
The strange question hung awkwardly in the air between them.
“What?” Jude shook her head. “No, of course I don’t hate you.” She stretched out her hand as if to touch Cara’s face, but then she reconsidered and pulled back. “I could never hate you,” she said.
Cara was almost sure that if this strange encounter led to a friendly goodbye and nothing else, she would want to die on the spot. “If it helps,” she said, “I’ve been miserable the whole time we were apart.”
“That actually does help a little.”
Cara looked at the cold night sky. Gazing at the stars always made her dizzy. “I can’t believe we meet again,” she said, “on this magical night. Here. In Limburg, of all places.”
Jude smiled. “Instead of on Amsterdam’s illuminated make out bridge.”
Cara nodded. “You were always funny.”
“You too. I’ve missed that.”
“Really? What else have you missed?” Cara said.
Jude hesitated. Cara was afraid she couldn’t come up with anything. But Jude actually blushed a little when she said, “Well…the sex comes to mind.”
“It does,” Cara said. “In fact, almost daily.”
“We were so…” Jude took a deep breath, “…compatible, don’t you think?”
“We were mind-blowingly compatible,” Cara agreed. “We owe it to…” She reconsidered. This was not an appropriate joke to make now. She shook her head. “Never mind.”
“No, you’re absolutely right,” Jude said. “We owe it to…etcetera.”
They cleared their throats simultaneously, then grinned together.
“You know what else I’ve missed?” Cara asked.
“What?”
“Your delicious home cooked meals.”
Jude threw her head back and laughed. “That is so cruel,” she said.
They were silent, shivering in the cold. “I wish,” Cara said finally, “that we could have talked. I wish we could have at least given ourselves a chance to do that.”
“We’re talking now.”
Cara nodded.
“So what would you like to say?”
She paused, weighing her chances. “Only that I’d give my right arm for another chance.”
Jude frowned. “Exactly what use do you think I might have for a one-armed lover? A left-armed one at that.”
The word lover, because it was so out of context, given their caution, sent an unexpected surge of arousal through Cara’s body. She shivered.
“Well?”
Cara couldn’t believe that Jude managed to keep her tone so light and playful when it might just as well have been spiteful and accusative.
“Actually,” Cara said. “I have a little more to offer than that now.”
“Really?” Jude said. “Tell me, what did you add to your already dazzling resume?”
“Well, don’t freak out, but I’ve actually become—”
“What? A drug runner? A time traveler?”
“A teacher.” She blushed.
Jude’s eyes grew wide. “A teacher? How’d that happen?”
“It was just…time, I guess. I applied myself. I teach literature. And I love it.”
“That’s great,” Jude said. “Wow. That seems so…fitting. Do your students know about your addiction to romance novels?”
“That’s a well-kept secret, actually.” Cara laughed. “And you…wow. You applied yourself, too. You wrote a new Bunny book!”
“The saddest one yet,” Jude said. “Have you seen it?”
Cara nodded. “Myra pushed it in my face when we stopped at a bookstore on the way here.”
“And?”
“And…is there any chance you’ll write a happy Bunny book dedicated to me some time? Or is that—”
“I’m not going to write anything ever again if I don’t get out of this cold soon.” Jude wrapped her coat around her more tightly. Her breath made clouds in the air. “Here’s what we’ll do,” she said. “I’m staying at the abbey.”
“So there really is an abbey? I thought my sisters were full of it.”
Jude shook her head. “No, there’s definitely an abbey. It’s both a convention center and a hotel. It’s where I’m staying, and where I’ll be speaking tomorrow.”
“Speaking,” Cara said, impressed. “You’ll be speaking.”
“It’s a beautiful place. I was actually wondering if you would join me for a drink there.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now.”
Cara’s heart was doing summersaults. “I would,” she said. “Can I have a minute, though?” She pointed to the door of the bar. “My sisters are in there, and I need to tell them I won’t be going back to the hotel with them.”
“Maybe you should thank them for their…help. I’m not sure we could have done this without them.”
Cara nodded. “Yes, I guess their absurd little scheme worked to a fault.” She paused. “A lot has happened between me and them actually. That’s a story for another time. Why don’t I come to your hotel in an hour or so? We’re staying at a place downtown.”
Jude smiled. “Does that mean you have some sort of curfew?”
“No,” Cara said. “I’m free as a bird.” She paused. “Does that sound presumptuous?”
Jude shook her head. “Not at all.”
“I’m afraid I won’t do right by you,” Cara said suddenly. She froze, startled by her own words.
“I invited you for a nightcap, sweetheart,” Jude said. “I didn’t propose marriage. Let’s just have a drink, okay? And then we’ll take it from there.” She slipped Cara a piece of paper. “This is the address of the hotel. The driver will know.” Her voice was a little husky. Maybe it was the cold. Then again, maybe it wasn’t. “Find me, okay?” she said. “I’ll be waiting.”
Cara put h
er hands on the door to the club, ready to push it open.
“Oh, and Cara…”
Cara turned on her heels. Jude took a step toward her, leaned over, and locked her into a loving embrace.
“I’ve missed you so very much,” she whispered into her ear.
She walked back into the club. It was even hotter than before, and her skin began to tingle. The band was on a break—the stage empty save for the now strangely lifeless instruments.
Cara walked to their table. Her chatty sisters didn’t say a word. She didn’t sit down. They looked up at her.
“So?” Myra said at last. “Cat got your tongue?”
“We talked,” Cara said. She put both hands on her heart. “Thank you so much, guys.”
“See?’ Inge said, “I told you this would work.” She leaned over, reaching for Myra’s stomach.
“Honey,” Myra said, “we really need to establish some boundaries here. I can’t spend the next eight months or so having you grope me every time you get excited about something.”
“Sorry.” Inge grinned, then got serious. “The thing is, that’s our daughter in there.”
Myra tapped her on the shoulder. “It is, honey. Or your son.” She turned to Cara. “So, now what?”
“So, now I’m going to see Jude in her hotel and have a drink with her.”
“There goes our roomie,” Alice said. “But that’s fine. I’m sure we’ll manage without you. Just remember your curfew, okay?”
“I have a great idea,” said Inge. “Why don’t we leave Cara behind in Jude’s loving arms and go home. I mean the three of us. It’s killing me that I can’t tell Bart about the baby.” She lunged for Myra’s stomach again, then reconsidered and pulled her hand away.
“It’s fine by me,” Alice said. “Why stay at the hotel without Cara?”
“Hey!” Inge and Myra protested.
“What!” Alice said. “What fun are you guys? As much as I love you both, all you’ve done on this trip so far is cry, pee, and throw up. I heard they’re giving out a flood warning.”
“There’s no way we’re driving home in the middle of the night,” Myra said. “This is my last chance for what may well be eighteen years to stay the night in a hotel without any of my kids. I’m not going to give that up. And besides, I want to go to the convention tomorrow. I think I’ve more than earned the right to finally shake hands with Jude Donovan.”
“She’ll be speaking,” Cara said proudly.
“See?” Myra said to no one in particular. “She’ll be speaking.” She winked at Cara. “If somebody doesn’t wear her out tonight, that is.”
“We’re having drinks,” Cara said. “Nobody is going to wear anybody out. I’ll take a cab back to the hotel later, okay?”
“Really?” Myra said. “Honey, you’re going to be sipping wine on a cold night in a romantic, thirteenth-century castle with the love of your life, and you want me to believe you’re coming back to the hotel to spend the night with us?”
She gave the driver the slip of paper with the address of the hotel on it.
“The abbey is a popular place tonight,” he said. “I seem to be going back and forth a lot. Are you one of the writers?”
“I’m not,” Cara said. “I’m just a fan.”
“I see,” he said, driving off. “Then I hope you get lucky tonight.”
Cara looked out into the dark night, and smiled.
“I have a feeling I will.”
CHAPTER 15
Eighteen months later
“I actually have goosebumps.” Inge shivered and held out her arm for Cara to inspect. “See?”
Cara glanced at her sister, who was sitting next to her, briskly rubbing her arms. She had dressed for the evening, wearing a wide, purple sweater dress over black leggings. A multi-colored, beaded headband kept her unruly hair in place. Her eyes were shining with excitement. There was something decidedly festive about her.
Myra, sitting next to Inge on the other side, exhaled loudly. “Goosebumps? It must be a hundred and twenty degrees in here.” She frowned. “Or is the hell of menopause upon me already?”
“Not from the cold.” Inge turned and looked around. “From the excitement that Jude Donovan is my sister-in-law.”
Myra smiled as she glanced at Cara. “I know. She’s mine too.”
They were sitting in the front row of the auditorium—not because of any VIP status awarded them, but because they’d been the very first ones to arrive. Jude had disappeared somewhere backstage, after numerous break-a-leg wishes from the friends, a hug from Zoe, and a good luck kiss from Cara over which they had all swooned.
They’d been sitting in the front row, just the five of them, surrounded by rows and rows of empty seats that Cara didn’t doubt would all be filled within the hour. Cara was, by now, more than used to sitting in the front row of auditoriums, libraries, and bookstores. It always gave her the feeling as if she was somehow protecting Jude. It was ridiculous, she knew, but she was like a buffer sitting there—anyone with wrong intentions would have to go through her first.
She wasn’t sure if people recognized her—the occasional picture of the two of them would appear in magazines or on the Internet, but Cara knew very well that people tended to forget who was dangling on a famous person’s arm unless that person was somehow of interest, too. And Cara Jong, teacher slash muse slash part-time mother, pretty though she was, wasn’t tabloid material. She was happy with her role in the background, although Jude would mention her in every interview she ever gave. She would always refer to her, call her an inspiration, the one person she always leaned on. It took Cara a while to get used to so much praise. She couldn’t quite make out which feeling was stronger, pride or embarrassment, but the pride had won. She had even managed to learn how to ignore her sisters when they teased her about how she had turned from a promiscuous woman of the world into this hopelessly boring, suburban housewife.
“We asked you,” Inge had said, “to consider bringing a little more stability into your life, not to hook up for all eternity, semi-adopt a child, get a dog, and turn it into the snoozefest it is now.”
“The dog wasn’t planned,” Cara had said. “Although we love him to death.”
She smiled as she realized how life has a way of throwing things in one’s lap. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the Labrador retriever in Almere, even after she’d called on the neighbor. Knowing that there was room neither in her apartment nor in her life for a dog, she had forced herself to let the matter rest, but since she couldn’t get the animal out of her mind, she had decided to try and find out what had happened to him. When she learned that he had been collected by animal welfare and was staying at a shelter, where his future was uncertain, she had picked him up the very same day and taken him home. They’d been inseparable ever since.
Next to her, Zoe was squirming in her chair. Cara had gone over the protocol with her. They had a set of rules for this kind of occasion that they had drawn up together, although she and Jude rarely took her to any event that was too big, or too long, for the child to sit through without getting hopelessly bored or falling asleep. She stroked the girl’s hair. “Are you excited?” she said.
“When’s Mommy going to come back?” Zoe’s bright, blue eyes looked up at her.
“She’s not coming back here until later,” Cara said. “She’s not going to sit with us, she’s going to be sitting over there.” Cara pointed to the stage, where the sound people were walking around, adjusting microphones, and dragging endlessly long power cords along the wooden floorboards. “See those chairs?” Cara said. “Mommy will be sitting in one of them. Another lady will be sitting in the other one and will talk to her through a microphone.”
“What’s a microphone?” Zoe asked, but she couldn’t be bothered waiting for the answer. She leaned forward, looking for Inge. “Can we go to y
our house and play with Silas later?”
“Not tonight, honey,” Inge said. “Silas is home with his daddy. He’s asleep.” Inge rolled her eyes. “They probably both are.”
“Why?” asked Zoe.
“Why? Because Uncle Bart is a little tired.”
“What about Silas?”
“Silas is tired, too.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s a baby,” Inge said. “Babies have to sleep a lot. That’s how they grow. You slept all the time when you were a baby, too.”
“Did not!” Zoe looked to Cara for support.
“All babies do,” Cara said. “Do you want your crayons?”
“No!” Zoe began to pout. “Where’s Mommy now?”
“She’s backstage,” Cara said.
“I love that,” said Myra, a dreamy expression in her face. “Backstage! Makes it sound like you’re dating some kind of rock bitch.”
Cara frowned. “Are you calling my longtime partner a rock bitch?”
“Ugh,” said Alice, “what is it with you people and that whole longtime partner lingo? It’s so…submissive. It sounds as if you have a disease that requires permanent nursing. Why don’t you come up with a better word?”
“There actually already is a better word,” Myra said. “Wife.”
“That’s not altogether a bad idea,” Alice said. “Why not simply get married?”
“Or at least move in together,” Myra added.
Cara shook her head. “Actually,” she said, “we’re good. I’m sorry to disappoint you guys, but we’re keeping things the way they are. Our arrangement is working just fine.” She turned her attention back to Zoe. “So anyway,” she said, “Mommy is going to sit on the stage. It will get really quiet and then Mommy will start reading from her book. Just the way she does at home. And when she’s finished reading, the other lady is going to ask her many, many questions.”
Zoe’s eyes grew wide. “What kind of questions?”