Once More with Feeling (36 page)

Julie cast her eyes downward. “Last night Bobby asked me to move in with him.”

“That’s wonderful!” Laura exclaimed. When she saw that Julie’s face was still tense, she asked, “Isn’t it?”

“I don’t know if it’s wonderful or not. My heart says, ‘Go for it.” But my head says, ‘Whoa.’ Frankly, I’m not sure which organ to listen to.”

Julie’s words hit Laura close to home. She’d mulled over those same thoughts, wrestled with the same doubts. Perhaps it really was impossible. Maybe men and women weren’t meant to pair off, two by two. Those animals on me ark didn’t do much together besides produce a few baby animals. No one expected them to spend the rest of their lives together, refinancing mortgages and agreeing on where to go for vacation. Why should human animals be any different?

Yet the urge to find a mate, a better half, was as strong in people as it was in every other species. Even though she’d sworn off men forever, determined not to bring on any more heartaches, headaches, or dents in her savings account, only minutes before she’d been thinking of Cam, feeling all warm and tingly inside.

“You’re not the only one,” she finally said.

“You, too?” Julie perked up.

“You’d think it would be easier, now that we’ve got all these years under our belts,” said Laura. “You’d think experience would count for something.”

“It seemed so simple when I was young,” Julie said thoughtfully. “I slipped in and out of relationships as easily as I slipped in and out of different pairs of shoes.” With a shrug she added, “Now that I fully understand the cost of making a mistake, I’m gun-shy.”

“Still, we should be better at making choices now,” Laura mused. “If nothing else, we’ve got more information.”

Julie frowned. “I don’t follow.”

“Look at it this way. When two people are young and getting married for the first time, they’re both chock-full of potential. That’s exhilarating ... but dangerous. Neither of them is fully formed yet, so neither of them really knows what they’re getting. That was certainly the case with Roger and me. I married what I thought he was going to become.

“But the second time around, after a couple more decades have gone by, it’s pretty safe to assume that what you see is what you get There shouldn’t be that many surprises down the road.”

“I think Bobby’s a different person now compared to who he was when he was with Claire. They were both so young. Not even out of school yet.” Julie thought for a few moments. “Still, I keep wondering if I’m a fool for thinking things could go better for us.”

“But people pair off in different combinations all the time,” Laura interjected.

“Right ... and how many of those couplings actually work out?” Julie shook her head. “Sometimes I think I’m guilty of incredible arrogance. I mean, who do I think I am? What makes me think I could possibly succeed where so many before me have failed?”

“Maybe it’s just the chemistry of different pairings,” Laura suggested. “Look at Roger. He and I couldn’t make a go of it. But maybe he and Melanie will do better.”

Julie blinked. “Do you really believe that?”

“Not for a minute. But he’s hardly the best example,” Laura was quick to add. “For one thing, I’m biased. For another thing, I don’t think Roger learned anything from the failure of our own marriage.”

“Does anyone?”

“I like to think so.” She thought hard for a few seconds. “I believe I did.”

“Do you think you made a good choice with Cam? Are things still good?”

There was that smile again, creeping slowly across Laura’s face. She could feel it. “Things are great. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have my doubts. About myself, about buying in to the bit about ‘boy meets girl and finds happy ending’ . . . certainly about the wisdom of ever again believing mat business about ‘forever.’ ”

“That’s a dangerous word,” Julie observed. “It should be banished from the English language.”

“Well, diamonds are forever, or so they say. Tattoos, too. Maybe the notion of permanence should simply be banished from marriage ceremonies. I always thought that part about ‘till death do us part’ was a little macabre, anyway.”

“How about ‘For better or for worse, in sickness and in health, for as long as we can both sit together in the front seat of the car for more than fifteen minutes without arguing’?”

Laura laughed, then quickly grew serious again. “So what are you going to do? Are you going to move in with Bobby?”

Julie gave her a rueful look. “Give me two minutes with a crystal ball. Then I’ll give you my answer.”

Chapter Twenty-one

“I’m amazed
at how quickly I’m getting used to this apartment,” Laura mused, tucking her toes underneath Cam’s legs and snuggling a little closer.

The two of them were lingering under the covers late on a Sunday morning in December. A tumultuous rainstorm raged outside, providing the perfect excuse. She peeked out from under the down comforter she’d splurged on, her idea of the ideal housewarming present to herself, to survey the room.

Having all her furniture in place helped, as did the sampling of artifacts from her forty-odd years, trinkets picked up along the way since childhood. Evidence of the important people in her life stood on top of her dresser; half a dozen photographs in colorful frames of Evan, her parents, Julie and Claire, and other friends. Her computer was set up in one corner, with a copy of each book she’d written displayed on a shelf next to it. Her signature was even on the walls: she’d finally gotten the pictures hung.

“This place definitely has your stamp on it,” Cam commented, his fingers twisting a lock of her hair as he surveyed the room.

“Remember a couple of weekends ago, when Evan was at Roger’s and I spent the whole weekend at your house? When I came back here that Sunday night, I felt as if I’d come home.”

She expected Cam to burst forth with an exclamation of joy over the fact that after so many months of uncertainty, she’d at last found a comfortable place. But he said nothing. Instead, he simply continued with the rhythmic stroking of her hair.

Trying to keep her tone light, Laura said, “I figured you’d be happy for me.”

During the long silence that followed, she could practically hear the wheels turning in his brain.

“Of course I’m glad you found an apartment you’re pleased with.” He ran his fingertips along her shoulder and down her arm. “But at the risk of sounding selfish, I have to admit I’m kind of hoping you don’t get
too
settled into this new life of yours.”

“You mean the swinging life of Bachelorette Number One?”

He didn’t laugh. “Look, I know it’s important for you to find a new equilibrium, Laura. You need a breathing period, a chance to be by yourself. It’s just that I’ve been thinking that one of these days you might want to—you know.”

“Might want to what?” Cam had never been so evasive before.

“Move in with me.”

It took her a few seconds to digest what he’d said. “Are you looking for a way of lowering your monthly mortgage payments?” she finally asked. “Or are you looking for somebody to mate with for life?”

“B.”

“If that’s your idea of a proposal, Dr. Woodward,” said Laura, her voice strangely high-pitched, “I suggest that you hurry over to the romance section of your local bookstore.”

“I’m not proposing.” He hesitated before adding, “Not yet.”

“Gulp,” Laura joked. She was barely able to get the single syllable out.

“Surely you must have thought about the possibility of us living together at some point. And, well, getting married.”

“Sure I’ve thought about it.” Laura didn’t bother to mention that every time she did, she had to administer chocolate immediately.

“I’m forty-seven years old, Laura. And my differences with my ex-wife aside, I basically
liked
being married. I need someone I can count on. What I want is a commitment. I’m not interested in dating forever. I want to settle down.”

He paused before asking, “What about you? Is that what you want?”

‘To tell you the truth, Cam, I’m not sure what I want. Whenever I try looking into the future, all I see is a big blank.”

“What about having a man in your life?” Cam’s voice was strained. “What about
us?”

“What
about
us?”

“Exactly what do you want our relationship to be?”

Laura thought for a moment. “Most of all, I want something comfortable. Romance is lovely. But the flowers and the candlelight dinners are only temporary.

“It’s also the easy part. Even first dates, no matter how horrible, are nothing compared to that first fight. Or realizing for the first time the person you thought was perfect has a big fat glaring flaw right smack in the middle of his personality. The way I see it, any two people in the world can have fun together—provided they agree not to discuss politics or religion and to steer clear of ethnic food. It’s the hard times that determine whether or not they’re going to make it.”

Laura shook her head slowly, and continued. “Even Roger and I managed during those rare times there were no problems, no pressures. It was trying to get through the rough spots that was our downfall.”

“You won’t get any argument from me,” said Cam. “The question is how to accomplish that.”

“I believe what’s most important is for two people in a relationship to want the same things. To share a vision of what life should be like. It may sound terribly unromantic, but I believe that when you get right down to it, if a couple agrees on the really important things, it doesn’t matter if he remembers to buy her flowers on her birthday or if she can keep track of whether it’s the big football game or the big basketball game that’s on TV that night.”

“You do sound just a touch unromantic,” Cam teased.

“Don’t get me wrong. I recognize that there’s got to be something magical between two people. That chemistry that’s so easy to recognize—but so difficult to define.”

“Do we dare label that ‘something magical’
love?”

“Love’s great,” Laura replied. “But there’s got to be something more. Look at all those couples who started out so crazy about each other that they were willing to declare their love in front of a roomful of people sitting there with tears in their eyes and gift-wrapped blenders in their laps. Yet a few years later those same two people end up at some lawyer’s office, screaming at each other from opposite ends of a conference table.”

“Not that you’re cynical,” Cam observed wryly.

“I’m not cynical,” Laura insisted. “I’m afraid. And that fear is making me tread very carefully. For fifteen years I tried to find answers. I thought about what makes a marriage work—or not work—every single day. I knew what I had was making me miserable. But that didn’t mean coming up with a definition of what I did want was easy.”

Cam kissed the top of her head. “I don’t want you to be afraid. Not with me.”

“It’s not you, Cam. I’d be afraid with anybody.”

“Okay, so maybe it’s too soon to talk about sharing a mailbox. Believe me, the last thing I’d want to do is pressure you. But would you do me a favor?”

“Hmmm?”

‘Think about it. When you’re lying in bed late at night with nobody but David Letterman to keep you company, try to picture a life with you and me together. One in which I have the privilege of keeping your feet warm every night, not just on weekends.”

His tone growing more serious, he added, “And one in which I can be more than just a guy you have fun with. I’d like to take a stab at working out some of those rough spots with you.”

Puzzled, Laura glanced at him. “Why?”

“Because I believe that you and I could actually do it.”

* * * *

Legions of window decorators, interior designers, and city employees had made a full-scale effort at converting the island of Manhattan into a living, breathing Christmas card. Laura stood at the edge of Rockefeller Center, her eyes greedily taking in the festive accoutrements of the holiday season.

Every window and doorway in sight was strung with lights. At Saks Fifth Avenue, right across the street, the windows were filled with robotic elves assembling quaint wooden rocking horses and dollhouses. A special vibrancy filled the air—maybe because the sidewalks were jammed with desperate shoppers, maybe because the thick clouds in the eerily white sky promised snow.

Viewing New York City in one of its finest hours had been Laura’s idea. It wasn’t just the chance to mainline a little Christmas spirit that had prompted this adventure, however. She’d decided it was time for the two most important men in her life to meet.

She’d already established a comfortable relationship with Cam’s children. On occasion she had even carried on a conversation with the boas, Nathan and Oscar, although only when the glass wall of their tank was between them. Even so, when it came to thrusting her own son into a new situation, presenting him with Cam and his brood and asking him to accept them, perhaps even to go so far as to like them, she was filled with apprehension.

She’d been nervous that morning when Cam swung by in his station wagon. It was packed, not only with his three children but also with Zach’s Game Gear video system, a substantial portion of Simon’s comic-book collection, a stuffed bear almost as big as Emily, and two large thermoses, one filled with coffee, the other with hot chocolate.

“I can’t help treating every outing like a field trip,” Cam apologized as she climbed into the car. “Force of habit.”

Once she was settled in the front seat, Laura glanced back at Evan, anxious to see how he was reacting to being thrust into a car filled with activity. His eyes had lit up as if this year Christmas had come a week early.

“Evan,” she said casually, “this is Simon, Zach, and Emily. And this is Cam—”

He didn’t seem to have heard her. “Oh, boy, Sonic Chaos! Can I play?” he asked Zach eagerly. “I can get up to the leader of the game, on level six!”

Laura breathed a little easier. This was a nine-year-old boy’s version of heaven: a carful of kids
and
video games on tap. She realized she’d been foolish to worry so much.

Tripping up Fifth Avenue, all six of them more or less together, she observed that the mood was comfortably upbeat. Having this first meeting in New York on the flashiest holiday of the year had been pure inspiration. So far, the only tense moment had arisen over the issue of whether or not the children should each get their own three-dollar pretzel—or whether the ho-ho-ho prices called for some holiday sharing.