Authors: Chautona Havig
The temptation nearly overwhelmed her. She’d established herself as someone who’d do anything to be a success in the company, outside of her church commitments, and this one thing could kill that. “Um, Derek. The wedding was last weekend.”
“So what gives?” A trace of irritation crept into his voice. She knew that he needed that information, and he didn’t want to arrive early to review it.
“Well—” Oh, Cara wanted to promise to have it on Monday in order to avoid this discussion, but the idea of losing a minute of her very limited time with Jonathan or his children filled her with dismay. “I’ve promised to be somewhere all weekend. I’m not even coming in until after one on Monday, and I just can’t do it, Derek.”
“Who is he?”
“What?” Perspiration threatened to ruin her perfectly planned outfit.
“I’m not a fool, Cara. The only thing I can think of that might possibly keep you from jumping to make this happen for me is a guy.” She glanced at the clock. Ten minutes. People would start trickling in any moment. Of course, half of them had seen her with Jonathan. All he had to do— “Look, I can call Tina. She’ll give me the whole office speculation pool and add embellishments with no charge.”
“I met him at the wedding.”
“So you guys going away for the weekend, or what?” His voice sounded doubtful. Everyone in the office knew that Cara didn’t operate that way.
“No. He’s only here until Monday around noon. Then he heads back to Atlanta.”
“And you’re spending the weekend with him.”
Cara decided to make
a full confession. “And his two children, yes.”
“Whoa.” Their phones remained silent, each of them in their own minds and working out the ramifications of her declaration. “Okay, look, Cara. Tomorrow night, six o’clock, you hand everything you have over to Chan and tell him you want it on your desk by noon Monday, ready to go. Give him a list of what you saw missing and tell him to check every fact twice to make sure it’s good. Take it, polish it, and have it on my desk before you leave Tuesday night.”
“Why are you doing this for me, Derek?”
“Because you give this company one hundred fifty percent every single week. We can give you a weekend off now and then.”
Cara thanked him and started to hang up, but Derek’s voice stopped her. “Laas… there’s one thing though. Don’t let this guy mess with you. I don’t want to see you hurt—” He cleared his throat, clearly realizing his words might be considered inappropriate. What she did with her life outside the office was none of his business, and they both knew it. “I need you on your game next week.”
“The troops are returning, sir. Time to get ready for mess hall myself. I’ll take care of it. Thanks.”
Tina watched Cara slip into her office and close the door gently behind her. Cara, knowing she was under scrutiny, debated whether she should change her outfit or not. During her conversation with Derek, her top had become soaked with perspiration, but if she left in a different outfit, the rumor mill would grind twice as quickly. She opened the door to her small storage closet and stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror. She had to change. The soaked spots under her arms were too conspicuous to be comfortable. She’d never be able to avoid the embarrassment factor. Just as she reached for a fresh blouse, frowning at the boring, plain ivory as though it deliberately ruined her look, the intercom clicked on from the office.
“Of course, go right in, Mrs. Laas. She’s still here.”
“Cara!” Her mother burst through the door, carrying the familiar garment bag that proved her mother had been sewing again. “I got it done.”
“Got what done?”
“Remember that Michael Kors suit we saw? The pencil skirt and boucle jacket?”
For a moment, Cara understood how people believed in fairy godmothers. It was harder to imagine more perfect timing if she’d planned it. The clock showed one minute after one o’clock. “Mom, it better fit. You’re a life saver.”
“Oh, ew. Here, I’ve got antiperspirant in my bag—”
“I’ve got
some, Mom, I just didn’t have any change of clothes that I wanted to wear. This is perfect.”
“Who cares—” Diane Laas’ eyes widened. “You’re going out with him again, aren’t you?”
The woman nearly bounced with excitement. “You’ll look great. Here. Put it on.”
As she pulled a caramel colored skirt from the garment bag, Cara glanced at her mother in surprise. “I thought we chose the conch pink?”
“We did. And when it arrived, it was the exact color that makes your hair look pink.”
“Ugh.”
“I’m so glad I ordered the caramel and black too. I thought maybe I’d make a black dress and a pair of black slacks to combine with them all.”
While her mother thrust baby wipes and tissues at her, Cara gave herself a quick “spit bath”
behind the closet door. She wriggled into the skirt, buttoned the short-sleeved jacket, and adjusted the collar. “There. How does it look?” Cara stepped from behind the door wearing the new ensemble and brushing out her hair.
“Why’d you take down your hair?”
“Well—”
Diane Lass jumped up and down excitedly. “I haven’t seen you this into a date since you were in college!”
“I haven’t dated since college, Mother!”
Diane paused, staring at the picture Cara made, her hair waving down her back and in her new suit. “That outfit looks stunning. Honestly, with a color name like caramel, it fits. He’s going to find you good enough to eat.”
Outside the office door, Jonathan grinned. He’d overheard just enough to be flattered. He knocked twice, waited for an invitation and stepped inside, giving Cara his familiar once over. “Well, that wasn’t an exaggeration...”
“Oh!
Jonathan. Did you meet my mother at the wedding?” Fumbling over her words, much to his delight, Cara introduced him to Diane.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Laas.”
He smiled at Cara. “I’ve just come to take her to lunch. Would you like to join us?”
“
Oh, no… I mean, I’d like it, yes, but I have things to do.”
“Like what?” Cara interjected. “Planning to start that other dress right now?”
“No, but I do have a house to put back in order now that this is done.” Diane waved at the outfit Cara wore. “Nice to meet you, Jonathan. Don’t waste your lunch break chatting with me.” She grabbed her purse and disappeared through the door before he could say anything.
Cara flushed as he turned back to her
and gave her an apprising glance. “She is a bit of a genius, isn’t she?”
“Yes
.”
“You ready? I have a car full of food and no one to share it with.”
~*~*~*~
“I can’t believe you came into the office.”
“Well, you mentioned that they were talking. I just wanted to give them an accurate picture.” He opened the car door for her. “So, where are we going?”
Cara panicked. She’d been so focused on the presentation and then her own presentation that she’d forgotten they didn’t have anywhere to go. “The mission. They’ll be cleaning up now, and we can share with Barney when we’re done.”
He turned down West Seventh Avenue toward Virginia Parkway. “Okay, do you want to go there because it’s where you want to go or because it’s the first place you thought of?”
“First place. My boss called while I was trying to decide where to take you and got me sidetracked. Then Mom showed up with the suit and I was excited about that…”
He glanced at her as he turned at the light. Cara caught his eye and smiled. “Thank you.”
He turned into the cemetery and parked on the south side. The car idled in the parking spot for a minute before Cara found her voice. “Um, Jonathan?” She hesitated. “Is Lily buried in Rockland?” He nodded. She expected to see tears in his eyes, but instead there was a plea for understanding. “Do you want to eat on those benches over there?”
As he climbed from the vehicle, Jonathan tucked in his shirt, pocketed the keys, and shut the door quietly behind him. He opened the door for Cara and held out his hand as he always did. Her three-inch ivory heels crunched on the asphalt, wobbling on a rock for a moment. His hands instinctively reached for her; one hand lingering on her waist while the other held her hand tightly.
“We look ready to dance,” she whispered. Unlike previous moments where they’d managed any kind of brief contact, neither of them moved.
The breeze caught her door and slammed it into the back of Jonathan’s legs. He stumbled closer but didn’t release her. Cara watched his eyes carefully. Something they said brought a faint blush to her cheeks. Beneath eyelashes that no man should be allowed to have, Jonathan’s dark chocolate eyes told her he never wanted to move.
“You’d miss the children,” she protested, laughing. Wisdom screamed at her to step away, but Cara mentally plugged her ears with her fingers and sang “la-la-la” at the top her imaginary lungs. There was something electrically mesmerizing about their proximity.
If I regained consciousness,
his expression retorted.
Swallowing hard, Cara reached for the bags, never taking her eyes from Jonathan’s face. “Hungry?”
Jonathan took one step closer, leaving a mere fraction of light separating them. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
“Chinese?” she retorted quickly, hoping to diffuse the rush of color to her face before it got any worse.
“I prefer French,” Jonathan began with an obvious guess at her ancestry, “but I’ll settle for Chinese right now.”
Much to her mortification, a most indelicate snort escaped before she could prevent it. She flushed an even deeper red and dropped her eyes at last. Jonathan tilted her face toward him once more and smiled. “You have no idea how much I want—you have no idea.”
He still hadn’t moved. Cara handed him the bags and crooked her finger, beckoning him to come closer. Slowly, he lowered his face until it was just an inch or two away from hers. She leaned to one side and whispered into his ear, “Jonathan, I can’t take much more. You have to step back.”
“Spoken like a woman,” he teased as he moved around the car door, leaving her free to follow.
“What?”
“Draw me closer to tell me to back off.”
She reached into the bag and pulled out chopsticks as he set it on the bench. “Are you complaining?”
Jonathan, with an ease that unsettled her more than ever, leaned so close his lips brushed her ear for a brief second and whispered, “Not on your life.”
~*~*~*~
“Jonathan, I hate to do it, but I have to ask.”
“Why did I bring you here of all places?”
“Well,” she began awkwardly, “it is a bit unusual as a date spot.”
He gathered their trash, pocketed the fortune cookies, and dumped the rest in the nearest garbage can. Stuffing his hands awkwardly in his pockets, he jerked his elbow for her to follow. “I want you to ‘meet’ Lily. Is that too creepy?”
“Not going to pretend I don’t feel a little odd—awkward even—but not exactly creepy.”
“We can go,” he hastened to add. Oh, how he wanted her to understand without a long drawn out explanation.
“Show me Lily’s grave first. It’s important to you, and anything important to you is rapidly becoming important to me.”
He led her around walks, through a small rose garden, and to the Fillmore family plot. “This is where Lily and her grandparents lie. Her family owns several of the plots.”
“You buried her with her family? Why not near you, in Atlanta?”
“I won’t be staying there, for one thing. When she was dying, she asked me to consider moving back so the children could be closer to family.”
Cara nodded. “And will you?” How she hoped he’d say yes.
“Probably.”
“Why with her family?”
“Her father,” Jonathan began with a sigh. “He said I’d probably marry again—” The look on Cara’s face stopped him. “No, Cara, not like that. He wants me to be happy and knows… not like that.”
She
stared down at the gravestone with its simple, elegant lines. The beveled edges, smooth polished surface and etched frames all attested to good taste and probably wealth. Lily’s family apparently belonged to
those
Fillmores. The inscription was simple but heart wrenching.
Our Lily— plucked from us too soon. Now in the garden of Jesus
.
“Oh, Jonathan!” Tears flowed before she could attempt to gain control. The mental image of Jonat
han holding a tiny little Riley and of Bryson with his little lily, dropping it onto the casket, tore at her heart. She fought to look at him through her tears and saw the grief—the utter look of loss on his face—and wept harder for the family.
“Shh… it’s okay, Cara. She’s home.”
“And you’re all alone. It’s not okay.”
How she heard it through her weeping, she’d wonder for many years, but hear it she did. Jonathan’s voice, oh so soft and tender, not really speaking to her as much as to himself, sighed and said, “Not alone anymore, Cara mia.”
~*~*~*~
He pulled up to the
front and stopped the car in the loading zone. As he opened her door, Cara stepped out, smiling at him through red-rimmed eyes. “I’m sorry, Jonathan—”