Speak Now (2 page)

“A lily.”

Tears filled Jonathan’s eyes, and he berated himself for his lack of control at moments such as these. Each time he thought he’d accepted his loss, a glance at his mother, or his father-in-law’s face, or an innocent remark by one of his children pushed the knife back into his heart. No matter how much he seemed to wiggle it out, something always seemed to drive it back in—something like a sweet comment from his son.

“Why would you like a lily?” Cara’s surprise seemed to delight Riley.

“For Mommy! We take them to Mommy.”

“Well, you are a special boy. Not every young man would ask for a gift to give his mother instead. Where is she today? I bet Julia would let you have some from the church.”

Riley’s sweet little voice, chipper and cheerful, exclaimed, “In heaven. She’s lucky. We have to wait, but she’s already there.”

To his surprise, Cara didn’t blink twice. One hand reached automatically for Bryson’s hand, and the other pulled Riley a little closer. “That is wonderfully lucky for her.
” She leaned forward and whispered, “I have a confession, though.”

Bryson, choking back tears for a mother he remembered
enough to miss, leaned closer. “A confession? Did you do something wrong?”

“Well, I don’t know if it’s wrong. You
tell me. I confess that I feel a little sad to think she isn’t here where she can hug you and tell you stories. Can I do that for her today?”

“That’s not wrong. That’s perturbing others and we’re supposed to do that. My Sunday school teacher says that Jesus wants us to perferb
—preterb—”

“Prefer. Preferring one another,” Jonathan interjected as he surreptitiously wiped at his tears between chuckles.

Riley, not happy that
her
Miss Cara now appeared to ignore her, said, “Of course you can tell me stories. Let’s go sit on the couches and snuggle up, an’ you can tell me all the stories you know. If I fall asleep it’s ‘cause I’s tired. I always falls asleep when Daddy tells me stories.”

Cara glanced across the table and met Jonathan’s eyes. “May I? Things are going to get pretty loud in here soon. Jules has a room set up down the hall with things for the kids to do; there are even couches and pallets for—” She visibly changed words mid-sentence. “—resting.
She has some of the teens from her church watching the kids so that the parents don’t have to worry.”

“You don’t have—”

“No, I don’t, but may I?”

Something in her face showed a certain gentleness he’d never seen in anyone else. She somehow managed to convey compassion and care without pity. “Of course. Thank you.”

A few steps from the table, she turned and waited for him to catch her eye. “Try to enjoy yourself. It’s a wonderful day.”

~*~*~*~

The song switched to a slow country number, much to Jonathan’s amusement. His nephew, Trevor, hated country music. A voice near his ear made him jump. “Julia! Why aren’t you with Trevor?”

“My cousin needs someone to dance with. She doesn’t date, so half the men in this room won’t even ask her to dance, and the other half are taken.”

“Well—”

“Good. Come on.”

Leaving him no chance to protest without a scene, Julia steered him to one side of the room—the side opposite from the one he expected— the side where her cousin Linda stood looking desperate. He’d met Linda at a picnic the previous month. The woman’s raucous laughter; a blouse that had to be three sizes too small, exposing much more of her cleavage than any man had a right to see in public; and her inability to keep silent for more than a few seconds, had worn him out before he had a chance to take the first bite of his meal.

Reliving that horrible afternoon left him distracted. He glanced at his watch as Julia pushed him toward a woman—one with her back to them—one he thought he recognized. Tapping the woman’s arm, Julia asked to excuse her cousin from a conversation. Cara turned to see who’d summoned her and smiled—gently. The word returned to mind with every action, every look, every word. He felt surrounded by gentleness in her mere presence.

“I—” He hadn’t been prepared to ask. Somehow, he’d expected Julia to force them together. As it was, his new niece had managed a perfect disappearing act. “I wondered if you’d care to dance.”

She didn’t make a move toward him, but she smiled again. “I would. I would love to dance.”

An awkward few seconds ticked past until he realized that he hadn’t actually asked her. Praying that the darkened room hid the rising red in his face and neck, Jonathan held out his hand and asked, “Shall we?”

“Thank you.”

The response startled him, leaving him wondering how to respond. “It’s truly my pleasure.”

They danced without speaking. Though neither danced well, they moved comfortably to the music until it ended. Jonathan had heard of companionable silences. Books are littered with descriptions of people so comfortable in their own skins and with each other that verbal communication is unnecessary. However, before
his dance with Cara, and despite an almost aching desire for it, he’d never truly believed it existed.

At the edge of the dance floor, he led her to the bar and offered her a glass of sparkling cider. “I’d ask you again, but these quick numbers are beyond my abilities. I’m afraid I’d embarrass both of us.”

Cara studied his face for a moment as though to ascertain his genuineness. “Perhaps you’ll ask again when a slower song comes along.”

He watched her, curious. How did she manage to be so forthright without slipping into flirtation? “In the meantime, would you like something from the hors d’ oeuvres table?”

She nodded. “While you do that, I’ll see how your children are doing. Be back in a minute.”

Without a word or a look to intimate that she was worthy of notice for this attention to his children, Cara slipped from the room. He’d never seen anything like it. Women sometimes showed interest in his children to impress him, but she clearly didn’t care what he thought of her. She cared about the
children’s
welfare.

He found them a t
able and brought her a glass of sparkling juice to go with her assortment of gourmet finger foods. Jonathan knew his actions would bring him scrutiny from his whole family. The phones and emails would tear up the lines over the next week, but at that exact moment, he didn’t care. The day had promised to be awkward, painful, and long, but instead, he found himself enjoying the day. Cara had managed to make the reception, thus far, enjoyable and with no expectations—a gift for a man like him.

As Jonathan snapped from his reverie
, he realized that she’d seated herself across from him and taken a bite of food. “I’m sorry, how rude of me.”

“You were somewhere else. And your children are fine. They’re going to wake up Riley in half an hour so she’ll still sleep for you tonight.”

The statement lay comfortably between them. It was as though the table was a lane with porches rather than a tennis court. Rather than a “ball in your court” to lob back at your partner at regular intervals, they each sat companionably on their own porches and stepped across the lawns from time to time to chat if desired. The thought amused him. Porches versus courts—how whimsical could he get?

Jonathan watched her between bites. Though discreet, he didn’t hide his observation. They toasted with the rest of the guests and ate their cake. At the bouquet toss, when Cara chose not to join the other ladies, Jonathan finally spoke. “No bouquet?”

She shook her head. “I’m silly, I know, but I only want one bridal bouquet and someone else’s isn’t it.”

The room slowly emptied. “What flowers would you put in yours?”

“I don’t know. I think it’d depend upon whom I married. I think that affects those choices.”

At the sound of a muffled cheer, she smiled. “I hope Linda got it. That’d make her happy.”

He kept waiting for her to slip. With interest, he noted everything she said, the ease in which she blended into any situation and her comfort with his disinclination for conversation—all things that he’d never encountered with anyone else in his life. Though refreshing, he wondered if it could possibly be genuine.

She smiled at him as the bride reentered the hall. “That’s my cue. My bride awaits. I have work to do. It was very nice to meet you. I hope I see you again soon, but if not, thank you for a lovely evening.”

Jonathan shook her hand, holding it a few seconds longer than necessary as he searched her face for a trace of dishonesty. “You mean that. Thank you. I enjoyed myself as well. We’re all happy to have met you.”

As she slipped out the door behind Julia, Jonathan saw Cara give him one last smile. He searched his mind for an appropriate adjective to describe that smile as he rose and left to retrieve his children. Wistful didn’t seem quite right, but it was the closest he could find.

Jonathan, Bryson, and Riley entered the hotel restaurant. Across the room, Cara chatted animatedly with her family and friends at a large table arranged specifically for the wedding breakfast. The picture she presented appeared to be almost the antithesis of the woman from the wedding. This woman charmed everyone around her,
showing a vivacity that appealed but was so different that it confused him. Was she such a chameleon, or had she shown him more pity than he realized?

His children munched on scrambled eggs and toast while he picked at his eggs Benedict. Ignoring their open mouths as they chewed and chattered, he moved his perfect eggs around on the plate, allowing them to cool into an inedible mess
, and watched the scene across the room with more interest than he meant to show. A shriek of excitement from his daughter brought Cara’s eyes to his.

“Oh, Daddy! Look! It’s pretty Miss Cara!” Riley’s voice carried across the restaurant, prompting amused glances around them.

With a sweet smile, she held up her index finger, turned back to her group, and continued her meal for a minute or two before she glanced back at them. Seeing Riley’s forlorn face, she sent Jonathan a questioning look and jerked her head at Riley. He nodded, nudging Riley and pointing to Cara, who beckoned the child to come sit by her.

Bryce watched the proceedings interestedly as he chewed his toast into a Mickey Mouse head. “Daddy, I think Miss Cara likes us.”

“Why do you say that?” Jonathan wondered what kind of insightful comment Bryson would make now.

“She doesn’t have to be nice to us today, but she is. She wants to come over and see us, but she doesn’t want to be rude, so she asked Riley to come over so Riley doesn’t embarrass you again.”

Mortified that his son noticed his embarrassment, Jonathan met his son’s eyes. “Do you understand the difference in being embarrassed by a person and being embarrassed by something they do?”

Bryson bit off Mickey’s ear. “Like how I get embarrassed when you tell someone how great I did, but I’m really happy too?”

Jonathan ignored his first inclination to remind his son not to talk with his mouth full. “That’s right. I’m embarrassed that Riley drew attention to us, but I could never be embarrassed about her.”

“Because you love her.”

“Yes.”

As the people at Cara’s table left one by one, Cara led Riley back to her father’s table. Each step closer gave Jonathan a clearer picture of
her. In everyday clothes, without the glamor of the formal occasion, he saw much clearer the beauty that enchanted his daughter. Bryson’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Her hair is almost pink, isn’t it?”

“Strawberry—that’s what they call it. Not blonde, not red—kind of in between.” A few freckles—he’d almost bet she hated them—scattered across her nose as if obligatory with her hair color.

Cara reached the table and smiled as Riley climbed up beside her father. “Good morning. I’m so glad to see you both again. Are you finished eating?”

Bryson held up his one eared piece of Mickey-chewed toast. “I’m not.”

Cara looked at Jonathan’s plate and said, “You haven’t taken more than a bite, is something wrong with it?”

“Just distracted,” he replied, trying to hide his embarrassment.

Without hesitation, Cara signaled a waiter and ordered a fresh plate of eggs Benedict, a bowl of fruit, and an omelet for herself. “We were so busy talking and catching up at the other table that I didn’t get to eat anything.”

By the time the food arrived, Cara had the children drawing on pages from a notepad in her purse, and Jonathan had relaxed again. Between comments and compliments on the children’s artwork, Cara conversed with Jonathan, but only with her eyes. No one had ever been able to be so comfortable with his predilection for silence.

Riley’s voice broke the hush surrounding their table. “Daddy, can Miss Cara come to Gramma Lyman’s house with us?”

The awkward silence he’d expected since the moment she joined them finally made an appearance. It hovered over the table, hushing even little Riley, who buried her face into her father’s shirt,
visibly confused as to what she said that could be so wrong. Cara glanced at each miserable face and then wiped her mouth. With a look of encouragement for Jonathan, Cara excused herself.

Minutes passed as he waited for her to return. Riley begged to go find her, but Jonathan assured his daughter that their new friend wouldn’t slip out the back door. As if to prove his words, Cara appeared, smiling. In her eyes, he saw that she knew he’d reissue the invitation.