Speak Now

by Chautona Havig

  “Goodnight. I think I’m going to have to learn some Italian to keep you happy.”

  “Um, Jonathan?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You’d have to talk.”

  His chuckle escaped before he could stop it. “What do you call this?”

  “Learn the Italian. I’ll perfect my baby talk.”

  “Don’t you even think about it.”

  Laughing, she adjusted her tone, giving him just a hint of what would come. “You don’t wike it when I cawwl you Jonafan? You don’t wanna heaw how much I miff you a—”

  “Jonafan, I love. The rest is nauseating.”

  “Whew. I was reaching for my trash can.”

  “Reaching or retching?”

  “Touché. Goodnight.” Cara didn’t wait to hear his response. She clicked off her phone, pulled her rainbow t-shirt over her head, and slipped on a silk nightie. Six nights—it might as well be six years. Forever sounded shorter.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Cara hummed to herself as she swung her purse through the double doors at Mayflower Trust. Friday had finally arrived, she had an hour and a half, thanks to Derek cutting her lunch break short the previous day, and Jonathan was—her eyes bugged in shock—leaning against her car with a grin that sent flutters through her.

  Heedless of her nylons, Cara kicked off her shoes and ran to the car. “Jonathan!”

  “Oh, and I hoped you’d be happy to see me. Drat.”

  “You look too good for my safety. I thought your plane didn’t arrive until nine tonight? I was going to the hub to surprise you.”

  “I changed my flight.” He brushed a lock of escaped hair from her forehead. “You hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  “In the mood for salad and sandwiches?”

  “I’m in the mood for anything. Let’s go.” She glanced around her. “After I retrieve my shoes.”

  All the way to the restaurant, Cara debated within herself. She could take the rest of the day off work. Derek wouldn’t like it, but he’d understand. However, they still had to deal with the strange request for campaign information— “Hey, Jonathan, do you mind if I ask you to do a little work this afternoon?”

  “Find our mysterious caller?”

  She nodded. “I was hoping you could listen to Todd’s voice mail, talk to Della—”

  “You still think it’s her?”

  With a shrug, Cara waited for him to jog around the car and open her door. “I think it’s a possibility we all want to ignore. It won’t be pleasant if it’s true, but something isn’t right there.” She smiled. “You know what I like. I’ll be right back.”

  In the women’s room, Cara pulled her brush from her bag and began unpinning her hair. Taking long, careful strokes, she brushed out the strands until they fell in waves. “Perfect.”

  Jonathan’s delighted smile told her she’d made the right decision. She tossed him a knowing look and smiled. “I know what you like too.”

  “You’re not obligated to humor me.”

  “If I felt obligated, I wouldn’t do it.”

  His head cocked, Jonathan surveyed her for a minute and then laughed, shaking his head. “That’s where you’re wrong. You would, and whoever was expecting to get a rise out of you would feel gypped. Oh, you’re good.”

  They shared fruit cubes and ate their sandwiches and salads, all without speaking. Halfway through the meal, Cara glanced up at Jonathan to find him smiling at her. She shook her head in wonder. “This is real, isn’t it?”

  “What is?”

  “Us. We’re real.” Seeing he didn’t quite understand her, Cara explained. “When you were here before, it wasn’t real. I mean, it was more like a fairytale—all wonder, no reality—no purpose. But now, I can feel it. It’s real; we’re real.”

  “I wondered—”

  “I know.” She’d wondered too. Just how much of their relationship would still be comfortable? Would they still want to pursue the friendship? More?

  To her delight, she read his thoughts easily, and their previous tendency to converse without words settled back over them like a comfortable blanket. “Since when is too good to be true real?” she whispered.

  She dropped her napkin and Jonathan jumped up to retrieve it. Before resuming his seat, he murmured, “Since I met you, Cara mia. Since I met you.” It took Cara several seconds of stunned silence before she understood that he’d heard her.

  As she reached for her glass, Cara murmured, “Did you know that when you want to say something really important, you repeat yourself? It’s kind of funny from a guy who doesn’t like to talk.”

  “Or maybe I just do it when I talk to you—to you—to you—to you—”

  “Oh, be quiet.”

  Taking bite after slow bite, they shared their hearts, their hopes, their dreams, and yet all without a word. Occasionally, a head would nod or shake. Twice, Jonathan shrugged impatiently, and once Cara shrugged a bit sorrowfully. From across the room, the hostess watched them while sorely neglecting her duties. When poked by a fellow employee, she pointed across the room and said, “They’ve been there for over an hour. I don’t think they’ve spoken more than half a dozen times, but look at them. That’s the kind of thing you only see in movies.”

  The other employee watched for a moment and sighed. “Except that in a movie, he’d be all over her. How is it so breathtakingly romantic and they’re not even talking?”

  “I don’t know, but man it makes me tempted to break up with Ty. Do I want to stay with someone just because I don’t want to be alone?”

  “What are the chances of finding that?” the second employee asked as Jonathan dabbed a drop of watermelon juice from Cara’s chin.

  Tearing her gaze from the couple, the young woman smiled at the businesswoman in front of her and led the woman to a nearby table. The server followed to catch the drink order. “I don’t know,” she said between handing the woman a menu and asking what she’d like to drink. “But I don’t think I’ll be satisfied with anything less after this.”

  “Be satisfied with anything less than what?” The businesswoman glanced over her shoulder, intrigued.

  “Sit in this chair,” she gestured to the opposite side of the table, “and watch that couple. They’ve hardly spoken, he’s only touched her once, but the romance at that table is so beautiful, my heart aches.”

  Unaware that they had become the fascination of curious onlookers, Jonathan and Cara “talked,” ate, and enjoyed the reuniting of their hearts until Jonathan laid his index finger on the back of Cara’s hand. Ignorant of the collective anticipatory gasp around him, he gave it a light stroke and then leaned back in his chair, hands folded in his lap. “I want to do something. Do you have to go back to work?”

  “Well, I did think we could try to find—”

  “If I stay an extra day and solve the problem on Monday?”

  In spite of herself, Cara caught her breath, her heartbeat increasing with each second of realization that he’d really come, he wanted to be with her, and he didn’t want to wait. “What do you want to do?”

  “Are you up for adventure?”

  “I’m up for anything.”

  He grinned and stood to help her with her chair. “Let’s go then.”

  As he hurried back into the restaurant to leave a forgotten tip, he found two of the employees and a customer watching him from one corner of the room. “Sorry about that,” he apologized, assuming the worst of their stares.

  “Sorry about what?” The businesswoman, unconcerned for her job, blurted out her question as if she had to ask.

  “I forgot the tip—a bit preoccupied.”

  “We noticed.” The employees spoke in unison.

  Ty’s girlfriend took a step toward him and pointed out the door. “What you have—it’s a gift. Don’t waste it.”

  A grin, the size of which few who knew him had ever seen, stretched across Jonathan’s face. “I won’t; that I can assure you.”

  ~*~*~
*~

  While Cara dug through her closet for “something dressy but comfortable,” Jonathan sat on the couch, pen and paper in hand, talking on the phone. Just as she pulled a powder blue wrap dress from her closet, Jonathan appeared in the doorway. “That’s great. Wear that. Can you be out the door in less than ten minutes?”

  “Does it freak you out to see women put on makeup?”

  “Nope.”

  “I’ll be out in three minutes.”

  “We’ll take them,” Jonathan said to whomever he had on hold waiting for her answer. She smiled to herself and locked the door as she closed it behind him. In his state of mind, he’d walk in on her and ask another question without thinking about it.

  Habitually, she pulled her full torso-to-thigh Spanx from the drawer and encased herself in Lycra. Seconds later, she stepped from the room and nearly ran into Jonathan. He stood, hand raised to knock, and smiled. “I did it. I wasn’t sure if I could, but I did.” He gave her dress a once over. “Nice dress,” he added absently. “Hey, do you have your key? It’d look great with that.”

  Disappointed, Cara hurried upstairs for the Tiffany’s box that still held her new Celtic key. The diamond earrings she’d received for her college graduation slipped easily into her ears as she ran lightly down the stairs, willing her heart not to be so sensitive. He couldn’t act as though she was the best thing he’d ever seen every time he looked at her!

  Rushed for time, Jonathan pulled the necklace from its box, undid the clasp, and stepped behind her to fasten it. “You ready?”

  “I just need to put my cosmetic bag in my purse.”

  “Do you have ID with you?”

  “Plan on getting me carded?” she teased.

  “Yep.”

  In the car, he laid the seat all the way back and smiled. “Just let the seat stay there until it’s obvious where we’re going.”

  Playing along, Cara closed her eyes and told him about the fiasco she’d created filling in for one of the Sunday school teachers the previous week. “I didn’t know we weren’t supposed to read the next chapter. So I start First Samuel Eighteen. Ever read it?”

  “I’m sure I have, but I couldn’t tell you what’s in it.”

  “It’s where David is given the dowry price for Michal.”

  Jonathan’s eyes furrowed as he tried to remember what it was. “I give up.”

  “A hundred Philistine foreskins. You can imagine the questions.” Remembering, she laughed. “I was as red as my shirt, trying to explain without saying anything. Four parents have called me since then to ask what I was thinking. Six got me before I got out of the parking lot at church, and I put a card in my purse yesterday. I’d planned to read it at lunch somewhere nice and public so I wouldn’t break down crying.”

  “Is it still in there?”

  She reached down for her purse and dug around inside. “Yep. Right here.”

  “Read it to me.”

  With a deep breath, Cara slit open the envelope. As her eyes scanned the note, she giggled. The more she read, the harder she laughed, until she finally caught her breath. “I should have read this last night. I was feeling so lonely—it would have helped; listen.” She cleared her throat.

  Cara,

  Frankie came home from class Sunday quite subdued. He answered questions briefly and in a monotone. I thought maybe he’d gotten in trouble or had a fight with a friend. He’s a talker, so I knew he’d eventually tell me what was up. Ahem.

  Frank brought out the Bible that night and started reading where Michal berates David for dancing before the Lord in public. Frankie’s eyes got all wild and angry. I seriously thought he was going to explode. When we finally got him to say something coherent, all he said was, “After he chopped off all those skins for her! She wasn’t worth it!”

  Right about that time, I got a call from an irate mother. I’m sure you’ve heard from her. After an earful of reasons why it is ridiculous to allow people who aren’t parents to teach children, I informed her that this lesson was the best one my Frankie has had in a long time. I have no doubt he’ll be very careful when he chooses a wife. All I’ll have to do is ask if she’s worth a hundred foreskins or not.

  Anyway, I wanted to thank you for filling in, for doing the job, for not ignoring a passage just because it was uncomfortable for you. You filled in, last minute from what I hear, and followed Elisabeth Elliot’s advice to “do the next thing” to a T. I commend you.

  If for no other reason, I thank you for giving us the best laugh we’ve had in months. Oh, I wish you could have seen his face. Priceless. They should make a MasterCard commercial out of it. Can’t you hear it? Sunday school snacks: seven dollars. Worksheet copies: one twenty-nine. Look on kid’s face when he hears about a hundred foreskins—priceless.

  One grateful parent,

  Sheila Lanzo

  “Is she related to Vince?”

  Cara nodded, sitting up as she did. “Airport! What are we doing at the airport?” She whipped her head around excitedly. “You had the children flown in, didn’t you?”

  “Not quite.” Ignoring her question, he asked again about Sheila Lanzo. “So if she’s related—”

  “Frank is Vince’s brother or cousin. I’ve never asked which.” Cara crossed her arms and refused to budge. “What do you mean ‘not quite?’”

  “Okay, no. I did not have my children flown in.” Jonathan hurried to open her door. As she stepped from the car, he smiled and whispered, “But I can’t tell you what it means to me that you not only thought that but sounded excited too.”

  “So, what?”

  “I’m not telling you anything. You’ll find out everything as it happens and no sooner. I can’t believe I’ve pulled this off.” As he glanced at his watch, he slammed the door shut and clicked on the alarm.

  Without another word, they strolled into the airport where Jonathan handed a valet his keys and received a receipt in exchange. Cara was of the “park in no man’s land and walk a mile to get to the airport entrance” brand of traveler. She’d already entered a new world. Once inside, she whirled. “We’re going to Atlanta to take them for pizza and ice cream.”

  He glanced at his watch anxiously as he answered, “What a revolting combination. No. Like I said—”

  “I’ll find out when it happens. Great. Let’s check in.”

  “We have to hurry. We’re pushing it.” Another glance at his watch nearly sent Cara into a fit of giggles.

  At the check-in kiosks, Jonathan punched in Cara’s information and then stepped aside for her to finish the process while he did his own. When he finished, he smiled down at her single raised eyebrow. She shook her head and groaned. “You’re not telling me why we’re going to Chicago.” They entered the first-class security check; she glanced up at him again. “At least you didn’t take us into O’Hare. I hate that place.”

  Security lived up to its reputation as a nightmare. It seemed as though the TSA agents pulled every other person from the line to check more thoroughly. Cara tried not to giggle at the irate look on Jonathan’s face as the agent patted him down twice, made him remove his socks, and finally untuck his shirt and remove his belt while his metal detecting wand went insane with screeches. As the man beckoned him to a screening room, another agent came over and waved hers around Cara without as much as a peep. By the time he redressed, Jonathan’s face had gone from faint red to scarlet—with embarrassment or anger, Cara didn’t know.

  They entered a near-empty first class lounge. Jonathan brought them drinks and then flipped open his phone. Cara listened curiously as he called a store, spoke to the manager, and gave specific size and color needs for a suit jacket, pants, shirt, tie, shoes, and socks. He listened, his face furrowing at times and nodding his head at others as he clarified points of detail until he seemed satisfied. Unless the store had talked him into something different, he’d pick up a charcoal jacket and slacks, light blue shirt, matching tie, and black shoes sometime before six o’clock.

  �
��What, no belt?”

  Jonathan laughed. “The style of pants I ordered doesn’t have loops. They’ll fit. I’ve purchased this brand before.”

  “Seems like a lot of trouble. Why didn’t you go back to your hotel room—”

  “I only brought my tux, and it’s being pressed at the hotel as we speak. Everything else is a little too casual for what I want.”

  She rolled her eyes, laughing. “This is one expensive date!”

  “On the contrary. The plane tickets cost me nothing, the suit I needed anyway, which is why I chose the color I did, so that leaves tickets, dinner, and cab fare. Typical date expenses.”

  “Dates are expensive, aren’t they?” Somehow, Cara had never given a thought to how expensive their week must have been back in May.

  “Is that how it feels to you when you take a friend out for lunch or dinner?”

  She started to protest that it wasn’t the same, but a second glance into his eyes told her what he meant. “The cost is nothing compared to the company— is that it? If I can’t afford to take a friend out, I don’t offer. If I can, I don’t like to think she’s feeling guilty about me spending what blesses me to spend.” She nudged his knee with hers. “You’re right. I’ll just say thank you—when it’s over and I know what I’m thanking you for.”

  His contented sigh washed over her. He leaned back against the couch cushions, put his hands behind his head, rested his right ankle on his left knee, and closed his eyes. It felt like a reversal of their first lunch. While he rested and relaxed, Cara sank into the opposite corner of the couch, tucked her leg under her, and watched him much like he’d done all those weeks ago.

  He wasn’t excessively tall, but he’d been taller than his wife. She wondered just what Lily’s height was and laughed when Jonathan murmured, “Five-eleven.” At first, she assumed he’d mentioned Lily’s height but realized quickly that it was his. His skin was darker now than it had been in May. He’d obviously been outside more lately, and now Cara wondered if he had a pool.

  “Should I bring a swimsuit to Atlanta? I’ll have to have Mom start making one if I should. Mine is all ratty.”