Speak Now

by Chautona Havig

  Cara zipped a silent question to him and then smiled. “The first one to get all the things on their list wins. If you guys beat us, you can go with us tomorrow to pick up the prizes you have to get from the stores. If you don’t beat us, we get to go by ourselves.”

  “On your mark,” Shelly’s desire to win almost radiated from her.

  “Get set?” Cara loved a challenge.

  “Go!” Riley clearly loved to tell everyone what to do.

  Just inside the archway leading to their corner of the maze, Cara grabbed Jonathan’s hand, jerking him to a stop. “Okay, I need to know before I start this, do you want to win or are you giving your kids an advantage so they can come?”

  “Competitive?”

  “You’re wasting valuable time with stupid questions like that. Answer my question.”

  “My mom has a trip to the renaissance faire planned for tomorrow. She won’t like it—”

  He didn’t have a chance to finish. Cara tore through the maze, stopping at every remotely hidden item, scanning the list to see if they needed it. “Yep. Competitive,” he muttered without any attempt to disguise his delight.

  Their mesh sack filled rapidly. Before they reached the center of the maze, she had crossed off over half the items on their list. Jonathan protested that he felt utterly useless. Before he could glance at the shrubbery after a new turn in the maze, she’d have it in the bag and spot three more. Though she tried to give him a chance to find something, the drive to win overrode all other intentions. Meanwhile, Jonathan laughed at her frustration of finding things and then having to return them to their place after realizing it wasn’t on their list.

  After she dropped one near the base of the hedge, he laughed. “You’re helping them.”

  “We’re bigger… we can see better.”

  He shook his head. “They’re lower to the ground. They will see it better.”

  “Two-thirds of the list done—oh, and there’s the dining area. Do you know what Shelly wants to eat?”

  He flipped open his phone, punched Shelly’s number, and handed it to Cara. Smiling at his obvious need for her to handle the meals, Cara read the menu to Shelly and patiently reread several sections until the girl decided on grilled shrimp and scallops. Cara handed the phone back to him, smiling. “Okay, rib eye it is. Let’s order. I’m starving.”

  “I thought she wanted shrimp.”

  “No, that’s what I thought you were getting.” She smiled at the question in his eyes. “I know you better than you give me credit for.”

  Once again, they sat simply enjoying each other’s presence without benefit of words. The waiter hovered, obviously fascinated by the air of tranquility around them. After several awkward attempts to provide a higher level of service, he bent low and asked Jonathan quietly, “Is there anything I can do for you, sir?”

  “No, thank you, we’re having a delightful time.”

  “Well,” the young man looked at them doubtfully, “if you’re sure.”

  Cara beckoned him to her side and whispered into his ear. “We aren’t having an argument, the atmosphere is lovely, and this bread is divine. Trust me when I say that sometimes we just like to be together.”

  Before he could respond, Riley burst from the maze opposite them, laughing. “Daddy! We found ten things!”

  Cara exclaimed excitedly over their list while Jonathan observed. She asked about how difficult the other side was, assured them that their side had been very easy, and pointed at things on the list she’d seen. “See that toy hammer? Our list doesn’t have it, but I saw two. And the shell. It’s almost in the middle of the walk!”

  Bryson seemed to think his father had been left out of the conversation. “What did you order us, Daddy? Did they have chicken strips?”

  “Yes. And they had macaroni and cheese too,” Jonathan added for Riley’s benefit.

  “Generic! That’s my favorite!” Riley’s eagerness was vocalized across the dining area, causing the other diners to glance their way, amused.

  By now, Jonathan looked ready to be swallowed by the earth. Cara raised her eyebrows. “Generic?”

  “Riley doesn’t care for name brand mac & cheese like most normal humans. She thinks it’s ‘too cheesy’. She prefers the generic.” Jonathan’s tone seemed to indicate that this was a sore subject with him.

  “Well,” she began, searching for a safe response, “that’s unique, anyway.”

  Oblivious to her father’s lack of amusement in the mac & cheese department, Riley trained innocent eyes on her and said, “Miss Cara…”

  “Yes?”

  “Why don’t you have a husband?”

  The panicked look on Jonathan’s face nearly made Cara choke on her salad. “Well, one reason is that nobody has ever asked me.”

  “So if my daddy asked you to marry him, you would?” The child’s face lit up with burgeoning excitement. She turned to her father, jaw open and ready to suggest, but Jonathan interrupted.

  “Riley, do you think marriage is a grown up discussion or a child discussion?”

  Dejected, she said in the most heart-wrenchingly mournful voice imaginable, “Grown-up.” Her face brightened after Jonathan foolishly assumed he’d stopped the conversation and took a bite of his shrimp. “But she would be a good mommy. Maybe it should be a child ‘scussion because childs know about mommies and mens don’t.”

  Jonathan’s groan sounded deceptively like he appreciated the fine flavors of his shrimp. Cara, on the other hand, choked on her crouton. She coughed, wheezed, turned red and then purple before Jonathan realized she wasn’t laughing. Just before she collapsed, he managed to pound it out of her. She sank wearily into the chair, gasping for air and reaching for her drink.

  Throughout the meal, Cara felt Shelly’s eyes on her. The girl watched with obvious fascination as she and Jonathan interacted with her, with the children, and of course, with each other. Did Shelly know Lily well? From the curiosity in the girl’s eyes, Cara suspected that she had. Furthermore, she also suspected that Shelly also noted how very different she and Lily Lyman were.

  When Riley and Bryson grew antsy, Shelly spoke up. “Are you guys done? If we go now, we get a head start on them.” She gave Bryson and Riley eager looks designed to make them want to leave. “Jon, can you get me a box to go?”

  He nodded and watched as his children disappeared before turning to Cara. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded weakly. “I will be.”

  “The things you’ll go through to avoid answering a simple question…”

  An impish gleam flitted across her eyes and, she winced as she murmured, “The things you’ll put me through to avoid putting your arms around me. Have you never heard of the Heimlich maneuver?”

  “That’s what you were doing throwing your chest at the chair back. I thought you were hacking so hard it forced it. I was trying to keep you from breaking a rib.” He picked at the squash on his plate. “I don’t know the Heimlich but if it means putting my arms around you…”

  “They’re going to get ahead,” she rasped.

  He signaled for a waiter, requested a box, and when it arrived, put Shelly’s leftovers in it, and settled it at the bottom of the scavenger bag. With one last sip to soothe Cara’s raw throat, they hurried off to find the remaining items.

  As they neared the end of the list, it became easier to remember each of the items and pass by the ones they knew they didn’t need. Cara left a hairpin lying on the ground, but snagged a rubber band hanging from a bush. The lemon dropped into the bag, but the orange never left its nesting place in the shrubbery. Cara wasn’t as alert this time, and twice, they found themselves backtracking when they came to a dead end.

  Much to their relief, they arrived at the entrance to that side of the maze in record time and with every item on their list. Excited, Cara screeched, “We did it!” before clutching her throat at the pain and the sound of her voice.

  Instantly, Jonathan took charge in a way that showed her the kind
of man he must be at work. He found her a seat, requested water, and stood over her as she drank it. The hostess asked if Cara was alright and Jonathan assured the woman that she would be fine. As if conversation was his greatest passion, Jonathan told, with great animation, the story of his daughter’s faux pas and Cara’s attempt at death by crouton. For several minutes, they laughed, joked, and had he not kept one hand on her shoulder; Cara would have concluded that he’d forgotten all about her.

  A couple exited from the center archway, eager to have their list approved, and the hostess hurried to assist them. Jonathan sank wearily onto the bench beside her. “You doing okay?”

  She nodded. Then, as she watched the energy drain from him nearly visibly, she realized what he’d done. “You are amazing,” she rasped, her voice making her sound like an emphysema patient.

  “Please don’t talk. It sounds so painful. I just knew she’d keep talking to you, and you’re too nice to remind her it hurts.” He shrugged at her questioning gaze. “You’d keep talking to make her comfortable.”

  “So, instead, you made yourself miserable to protect me,” she whispered. Somehow, it hurt less to whisper. “That was so sweet.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Ever the gentleman.”

  ~*~*~*~

  As they pulled into the guest parking spot nearest her door, Cara started to ask why they’d taken the children home before he drove her back to Westbury, but he shushed her. Actually, after he’d been forced to stop at a local twenty-four hour convenience store to get her some water, she’d stopped all attempts at discussion. At her home, however, Jonathan turned off the car, pocketed the keys, and gripped the steering wheel as though playing an arcade game and the high score loomed ahead—almost in his grasp.

  He didn’t want to talk. He wanted her to tell him everything would be all right. He wanted her to tell him stories about lemonade stands, reading to elderly relatives, and school programs where she’d embarrassed herself. What he didn’t want was the silent reminder that his daughter had made her first attempts at matchmaking, and because of it, Cara now sat beside him unable to verbally acknowledge anything he said. If he wanted conversation, he now must speak.

  “I’m sorry about Riley.”

  “I’m not.” The words were so quiet; he hardly heard them.

  “We’re working on appropriate topics but she’s precocious, she’s stubborn, and she has many more hours per day with a woman who thinks children should be allowed to freely express their thoughts and emotions than she has with her father. Guess whose words carry more weight?”

  She started to reassure him, but he stopped her. “It’s my turn to read your thoughts and speak them for you. Thank you for understanding, but that’s not my only problem.” The sensation of seeing her thoughts and being the one to vocalize them fascinated him. It seemed almost a mirror of their previous dates, her raw throat now turning the tables on them. “I want you to know that I wasn’t upset about the topic itself. I just didn’t think it an appropriate topic for a child. She spoke what I’ve wondered all week.”

  Her lashes dropped and Cara suddenly took great interest in the rim of her water bottle. Jonathan, grateful for the light of the street lamp, watched for the color that he knew would fill her cheeks. “There it is. I knew that blush would come. Look, you know I think your friend Laban was a fool, but seriously, is every man in Rockland blind and stupid?”

  “Maybe.”

  At the sound of her scratchy voice, he held up his hand. “Don’t. I want you fine tomorrow, and you won’t be if you keep talking. Maybe I should go.”

  She grabbed his sleeve and shook her head. Glancing around the car, she looked for something to use for paper. Finally, in the glove compartment, she grabbed a stack of napkins and dug through her purse for a pen. Inside, she found her shopping list pad and grinned as she scrawled, Even better.

  Writing swiftly, and somewhat illegibly, she put her thoughts down on the pad and passed it to him. I just want to be here. Remember at the maze when the waiter thought we were upset and I told him sometimes we just like to BE together? That. Don’t go.

  As each minute ticked past, they relaxed. He watched as she remembered what had prompted her to try to speak and picked up her pen and wrote, You asked if the men in this town were blind and stupid and I said “maybe.” I wasn’t trying to be arrogant. I heard a devotional in high school. I was at one of those area youth rallies and the speaker said that one of the best things he’d ever learned was to pray that the Lord would blind those who might be attracted to him but were wrong for him. That has been my deepest prayer since Jacob dumped me. I just didn’t want to go through that again.

  His eyes looked nearly tormented by the desire to comfort her. “I wish—”

  Her fingers scrawled out another message. I should go in. I’m making this worse. You are doing the right thing, Jonathan. For both of us. Don’t second guess yourself. She shoved it in his line of view before pulling it back and adding, Thank you for an incredible evening—again. I’ll see you when you get here tomorrow. His eyes spoke for him, bemoaning the coming hours and prompting her to snatch the notepad back once more. I know. Me too.

  Chapter Eleven

  “I think that’s it. Are there any others?” Jonathan glanced at her list.

  “Just the silver pendant from Memories Jewelry.”

  “What an inane name. Honestly, why bother though? It’s just going to be some kind of cheap trinket.”

  “Well,” Cara didn’t understand why he cared. “It’s supposed to be sterling silver, so, while inexpensive; I don’t see how you can call it cheap. They have to hope for a return for reaching a single person. That’s expensive advertising. I know there’s word of mouth and everything but still…” She pointed to the street sign, unaware of his lack of interest.

  “Would you wear it?” Jonathan expected it to be a pure waste of time.

  “If I liked it, sure. Why wouldn’t I?”

  He shrugged and turned down the street. “Tiffany & Co.,” he remarked as they passed the famous store. “Now that’s a jeweler.”

  “One that doesn’t need this kind of advertisement. Give Memories a chance. Not everyone—rather, most of us, can’t afford a place like Tiffany’s.”

  After a moment of silence, Jonathan shook his head. “Ignore me. I’m a jewelry snob.”

  The store proved to be a quiet, tasteful place set among Rockland’s most charming old buildings. The curved display windows, awning covered entryway, and the soft sounds of Mozart greeted them as they stepped through the door. For all their inferiority to Tiffany & Co., this store had done its market research and had created a delightful shopping ambiance.

  Cara, completely in her element, waited for a salesperson to finish with a customer and then smiled broadly. “I just love your store! I’ve never been in here before, but I won this gift basket last night at Chesterfield Greenhouse and had to stop in and see what you have to offer.” Smiling, she slid the coupon across the cherry wood trimmed counters.

  “Oh, excellent. We’ve only had one of those redeemed, and we couldn’t decide if people weren’t interested or if it is harder to complete the hunt than we anticipated.”

  He excused himself, disappearing into the back, and Cara glanced around the room. Across the room, examining a tray of something very closely, Jonathan seemed oblivious to everything around him. As she took a few steps closer, her eyes widened. The tray of jewelry displayed a dozen or more rings. Very large diamond rings. She couldn’t think of a single reason for him to look at them—none—and yet he stood there, closely examining them through a jeweler’s loupe.

  A crazy swirl of thoughts invaded her mind until she grew dizzy. Why would he examine women’s diamond rings, unless… She blinked. Of course he’s not looking for rings like that, Cara! Her mind argued back with a sarcastic edge to it, Because he likes spending a fortune on jewelry no one in his family can wear. He’s probably buying for Riley in twenty years. A new thought cross
ed her mind, and though a little overwhelming, it made her feel a little giddy. Maybe he’s just window shopping for the future… Mentally, she laughed at her flight of fancy and glanced toward the doorway where her salesperson had disappeared.

  The gentleman returned with a black glossy box stamped with Memories in silver on the cover. “Here you go. Congratulations on winning. May I show you our new bracelet collection or perhaps earrings? We’re hoping to give winners a glimpse of our merchandise before they leave, but if you’re in a rush...”

  She glanced over to Jonathan and saw him still wrapped up in his examination of a ring. “Looks like I have time. I don’t tend to wear bracelets, but they’re easier to try on and admire. Why don’t you try to convince me that I need one?”

  Between moments of admiring a bangle here, a rope of gold and stones there, and knowing she’d never let herself purchase any of it, Cara surreptitiously watched Jonathan as he examined one ring repeatedly and then slid a credit card across the counter. Her inner jaw dropped to her knees as she watched the sales clerk insert the ring into a traditional jeweler’s ring box, wrap it carefully, and place it inside a small, glossy black, round “hat box.” A silver cord served as a handle, but Jonathan didn’t seem to notice. He signed without a second glance at the box, pocketed his card and receipt carefully, and carried the box to where Cara admired aquamarines on platinum.

  “That is attractive. I would have imagined you’d look best in yellow gold, but that platinum is beautiful.”

  “Is it platinum or white gold though?”

  “Platinum.” The salesman and Jonathan spoke in unison.

  “Your gentleman knows his jewelry,” the man said as he accepted the bracelet from her and replaced it on the display piece.

  “Apparently. Are you ready?”

  Outside, Jonathan shook the little hatbox. “I feel stupid carrying this thing. Can you put it in your purse? Do you mind going with me to my favorite jeweler? I want him to redesign this.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “The Vault, over on Waterbrook.” Jonathan looked uncomfortable as he walked through the streets to the parking garage. “Can I ask you to hold onto your purse carefully? I should have had them deliver it for me.”