Yes, I do! a little voice cried out in the back of her head. The last thing she wanted was for him to come back into her life and then wonder what he’d seen in her in the first place. Janine was not going to make any assumptions about lunch with David, but even if he was just a friend, she needed that desperately.
It didn’t hurt that he looked great. Though he was dressed so softly, in aV-necked cotton jersey and blue jeans, she found her mind flashing back to the feel of his muscles under her caress.
Zoloft, she thought. Blame the drug for everything.
David watched her with a curious smile.
“What?” she asked, as she finished the last spoonful of her gumbo.
“You look happy. Just glad to see that, I guess.”
“It’s an illusion. Trust me. But I am glad you called,” she confessed, avoiding his gaze.“I wanted to see you again, talk some more, but I felt weird about calling.”
“Why?”
With a frown, she studied him, reluctant to say more. “I just ... things didn’t end well with us before, and I ... I mean, it was my fault, but I just wouldn’t want us to have any misunderstandings right now. I don’t think I could take that.”
The waiter interrupted with their meals, blackened catfish for Janine and crawfish étouffée for David. After he had refilled their water glasses, he disappeared once more into the crush of lunch patrons. For a moment Janine and David just looked at each other. He licked his lips and smiled weakly.
“You don’t have to worry, Janine. No misunderstandings, okay? No assumptions. If we’re going to be friends, we have to be able to be honest and open with each other, right?”
Friends, she thought. So that’s the object of the game, then?Yet she did not put voice to those words, did not ask for clarification. She realized how ironic her thoughts, considering David’s words, but could not control them. It was too early for her to be even thinking that way, and she was in no state to begin a new relationship, or even rekindle an old one. But still, she was disappointed.
“Exactly right,” she lied. Her smile was halfhearted, but he did not seem to notice.
“So what’s your plan now?” he asked. “A little birdy told me you’re starting back to teaching on Monday.”
Janine rolled her eyes. “Annette.”
“Actually, no. It was Father Charles. Who, no doubt, heard about it from Annette.”
Janine raised her eyebrows. “They’re talking?”
“Only when they can’t avoid it,” David confirmed.
She laughed then. “You’d think a man of God would have other things to do than meddle in matchmaking.”
David’s smile faltered a second, and Janine froze inside. Matchmaking implied so much.
“Look at us,” David said. “Fumbling around each other like high school kids.”
“Junior high,” she corrected, shaking her head.Then she grew serious again. “I’m so sorry I hurt you, David.”
His expression was grave. “You had to find out what could be,” David said, his voice low. “If you’d chosen to stay, you would’ve resented me eventually, wondering what it would have been like with Spencer.”
“Even so, it would have been better if I’d stayed.”
Their eyes met and Janine felt both her heart and stomach flutter.
“So,” she said, too brightly, “how ’bout those Red Sox?”
“Umm, they’re gonna choke by the All-Star break?”
The tension of the moment evaporated. They both dug into their lunch, and talk turned to work and their respective colleagues at Medford High and St. Matt’s. Only in talking to David did Janine realize how much she was looking forward to Monday morning.
“Teenagers can be brutal,” she told him, “but I really think they’ll be sympathetic.”
David nodded, though a mouthful of fish made him pause before he could answer.“I’m sure they’ll be good to you. But only for a week or so. After that, the gloves’ll be off again.”
It was after two when they left the Border, and they linked arms as they walked up the side street that led back into the center of Harvard Square. The sky was blue and clear, and the sun glinted off windshields and storefronts. A chilly breeze blew through the square, and Janine sneaked under David’s arm. He seemed more than pleased by that.
At the newsstand on the corner, they ducked in for a quick glance through the magazines. David bought her a semiwilted red rose and was as nonchalant as possible when presenting it to her. Janine wanted to call him on it—If we’re not on a date why are you buying me flowers?—but she didn’t dare.
Across the square, perhaps fifty yards apart, a man with a Hammond organ and a microphone sang Beatles songs in musical combat with a robed Hare Krishna who chanted and shook cymbals.
“God, how do you stand it?” Janine asked the man behind the counter.
“At least you get to go home,” he told her, wincing as if in pain. “Thing is, the Beatles guy is so fucking out of key, but the Krishna’s got a decent voice. If you just teamed ’em up, probably wouldn’t sound half bad.”
Out in the square, the throng meshed and flowed: students from Harvard and MIT and Tufts, aging Bohemians, Cambridge locals, and tourists galore. Punks with green-dyed hair, software salesmen in wool, homeless men wearing huge filthy parkas because they had nowhere to leave them. A beautiful Asian girl as petite as a twelve-year-old strode hand in hand with a blond woman who was model gorgeous and as fit as an Olympian.
Music blared from cars and floated sweetly from sidewalk-strummed acoustic guitars. The smell of incense was overpowering as they entered a small shopping mall called the Garage, where they bought big Ben & Jerry’s waffle cones. Janine was already very full, but she could not say no to Ben & Jerry’s.
We should go home now, she thought. If it really isn’t a date, we should go.
They stayed. More than stayed, however; they strolled away from the square toward the Charles River.With all its wonderful, eccentric visitors, Harvard Square could become almost claustrophobic. Janine loved it, but she was happy when they began to leave the crush of people behind.
As the river came in sight, the wind picked up and she shivered. Her black leather jacket was stylish, but not very warm. David was in the midst of catching her up on what she’d missed in the time since they had last spoken, not just in his life, but in the lives of his sister and other people she had known only through him. When they stopped on the corner of Memorial Drive, across from the river, to wait for the light to change, he must have noticed how cold she was, for he offered his jacket.
Janine declined, but David insisted. A few minutes later, as they walked slowly along the river, side by side but not touching, his hands were jammed in his pockets and it was obvious he could barely keep his teeth from chattering, but he refused to take his jacket back. Refused, even, to admit to being cold.
My chivalrous man, she thought.
Yet even the warmth of his jacket over hers was not enough to keep away the strange chill that came over her whenever she glanced at the water. David called her on it only a few minutes after they had reached the river.
“Hey,” he said softly, neck muscles taut as he tried to hide his shivering, “you wanted to come down here, right?”
“Yeah,” she said, too quickly. She would not meet his eyes.
He stopped walking. With one hand on her arm, he turned her to face him. “Am I pushing too much, Janine? You’re looking around like you can’t wait to go home. I know we’re dancing around some things here, but I am really happy you agreed to come out today. The last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable.”
A jogger ran by with a CD player clipped to his pants. A couple on bicycles approached from the other direction. Memorial Drive was thick with cars. There were plenty of people around, and yet Janine felt unnerved by her surroundings.
She reached up to touch David’s face, just a momentary caress of her fingers on his cheek. “It isn’t you, David. It’s ...” She
glanced around, gestured at the river, then looked up at him again. “I thought it would be nice to walk down here together. Maybe it’s just too cold still, or too early in the season, but it’s sort of creepy. It’s been weeks, but ever since I came home from the hospital, I haven’t been sleeping well. Bad dreams, y’know. And for some reason, this ...”
“Oh, hey, no. Come on, no problem. Let’s go back,” David said quickly.
With a single motion, Janine slipped his jacket off and swung it behind him in a flourish. She leaned in to pull it snug over his shoulders, and felt a hot spark shoot through her. Her breasts pressed for just a moment against his chest, and the intimacy of that closeness, the feel of his warm breath on her face, was enough to make her blush.
With a swift motion, she darted forward and kissed his cheek before she was even aware of what she was doing. A little laugh escaped her lips and she covered her mouth and raised her eyes heavenward as she turned away.
“We should definitely go,” she said, surprised at herself.
David did not follow as she started to walk away. Janine froze, there on the bank of the Charles. All the noises of the world seemed to go away save for the sound of the river lapping against the shore as it lazily followed its course.
“Janine,” David said.
There was something about his voice that seemed exposed, like copper wire stripped of its plastic sheath, ready to connect, to channel music or images ... or to electrocute.
She blew out a long breath but did not turn.
“It isn’t fair to you, after what you’ve been through,” he said. “I promised myself I wouldn’t do anything stupid. But I’ve got to say this. I don’t know how much longer I can pretend I’m not still in love with you.”
Startled, completely off balance, Janine spun to face him. David gazed at her. He took a shuddery breath and stood up a little straighter. Janine tried to speak, but found she could not. Instead, she ran to him and crumbled into his embrace. She held him so tight that her arms hurt.
The tears came, as though all along Janine had been holding them in, waiting to cry them in David’s arms.
“You don’t ever have to pretend with me,” she whispered minutes later, as she wiped her eyes.
With her pressed against him, his arm around her, they walked away from the river.
From behind them, the sound of metal clanking against wood rolled up from the river. In the distance, almost as though it were the whistling of the wind, there came the sound of a baby crying.
Janine shut her eyes and pressed herself more tightly against David, and did not look back.
The wind. Just the wind.
CHAPTER 6
There were bookstores that were closer, but Annette always preferred Bookiccino on Massachusetts Avenue in Arlington. As long as she did not try to drive over during rush hour, it took her only fifteen minutes or so. The mall bookstores were usually so cold and sterile, not to mention staffed by people who knew little to nothing about books. Bookiccino, on the other hand, was a wonder to behold.
It sat on a corner only a few blocks up from the legendary Capitol Theatre, an old-time movie palace that showed a combination of current and art films. Bookiccino billed itself as a “book boutique,” and it appealed to the same crowd.Two-thirds of the sizable corner store-front was taken up by the books, most of which were novels. No self-help guides at Bookiccino. The nonfiction they did carry was mostly travel books, biographies, and true crime.
With novels, they weren’t quite so discriminating. The only rule the management had was no category romances. Annette had never figured out if this was practicality due to the tastes of their clientele, a way for them to get attention, or an actual prejudice. But according to the owner, they’d never had any complaints about that particular bit of bigotry.
The third of the store not given over to books accounted for the -iccino part of the place’s name. It was a warmly decorated café and bakery that specialized in exotic coffees and pastries Annette had come to admit she would kill for if necessary.
So when the urge to browse for books overcame her, or if she simply had a couple of hours to kill and wanted a cup of great coffee, she would find herself in her little SAAB on the way over to Arlington. Not so often that they would remember her name in the store, but frequently enough that they always recognized her face.
That Sunday afternoon, with the air turned chilly and the sky stingy on sunshine, she cranked the heat and the radio and drove out Route 16 to Massachusetts Avenue. In a few days it would be May, and she cursed the weather. It was too cold by her estimate, far too cold for this time of year. All the more reason to head to her favorite spot for a mochaccino.
Behind the wheel, Annette grinned. Maybe with whipped cream.
It truly was her spot. Though she had been going to Bookaccino for four years, she had never once asked anyone to go along with her. Until she found someone she wanted to share it with, she never would. In her sourest moments, she suspected it might be forever.
Such thoughts were unwelcome. Annette found a parking space on the street half a block away and felt a tiny burst of contentment at the knowledge that the meters were dormant on Sundays. Sometimes the smallest things could give her a lift.
It was almost two-thirty when she killed the engine, cutting Sarah McLachlan off midsong. Almost unaware she was doing it, she took a moment to check her appearance in the rearview mirror. Then she slipped her thin purse over her shoulder and got out. All day long the clouds had been rolling in and then thinning out again; at the moment, they were high and wispy, and the sun was dimmed only a little by their gray presence.
The Sarah McLachlan song was still in her head and she hummed along as she pushed open the door into Bookaccino. Your love is better than ice cream....
I don’t think so!
Annette smiled to herself, then plunged into the books. The latest legal thrillers were on prominent display, but she ignored them and instead made a beeline for the science fiction section. Though she enjoyed a good mystery now and again, science fiction appealed to her mathematician’s mind.
Just a few minutes after she began to scan the shelves, an older woman with her hair dyed screaming red appeared nearby. She hovered a moment before smiling sweetly.
“Can I help with anything?”
Annette batted her eyelashes. “I’m looking for something romantic.”
For a moment the woman seemed at a loss. Then she caught on, and they shared a brief chuckle.
“If you have any questions, let me know,” the woman said. She moved on to help a younger couple, a thin, stylish black girl and her huggy blond boyfriend.
Though she wandered for more than twenty minutes, only one book caught her attention, an odd combination of fantasy and science fiction about a female space pilot who discovered a parallel world filled with dragons. Not usually her sort of thing, but for some reason it appealed to her.
Soon she was settled at a table in the café with her mochaccino and a sinfully rich apple cinnamon muffin, the book open before her. With the smells of the coffee and pastries filling the place, it was sheer paradise. It occurred to her, as she paused between the first and second chapters, that part of the reason she never brought anyone with her was that she was able to indulge without having to make excuses.
“Is it good?”
Annette glanced up, her mouth half-full with muffin, then tried to chew more quickly in order to reply. The woman who had spoken—or girl, for she looked barely old enough to be out of high school—smiled awkwardly at having caught her like that. She had long blond hair halfway down her back, sparkling blue eyes, and a dimple on her left cheek that lent her an air of mischief.
“The muffin or the book?” Annette finally asked.
The girl uttered a soft, pretty laugh and leaned on the back of the other chair at the table. “The book. I know the muffins are good.”
Annette closed the book and glanced at the cover. Then she shrugged. “I’m not sure,
actually. I just started it. Moves pretty fast, though, and the main character’s a kick. I like novels with sexy, smart-ass women protagonists.”
“Me too,” the girl said. Her smile grew wider, her dimple more defined, and the mischievous air around her was even more pronounced. “Too bad life isn’t more like that.”
A slow, sly grin crossed Annette’s features. With her right hand she tucked a lock of her short hair behind an ear and regarded this fascinating new arrival with a frank stare.
“I’m Annette,” she said.
“Jill,” the girl replied. “I’m Jill.”
“Want to sit down, Jill?”
What are you thinking, Annette? She’s a kid. Nineteen, tops.
With a toss of her swaying hair, Jill swept around and planted herself in the chair opposite Annette in one swift motion.
“I’d love to,” she said. “So is this your first time here?”
“Not at all. I’m in here all the time.”
Jill glanced around, gestured with a flap of her arms. “This place is like my second home. Books and coffee go together like movies and popcorn.Weird that I’ve never seen you here before.”
Annette became uncomfortable. She grew oddly shy and sipped at her coffee. For a moment Jill frowned and watched her closely. Then she leaned in, snatched up Annette’s book, and began to silently read the back cover. Fascinated by the girl, Annette studied her.
As if she sensed the attention, Jill’s gaze flicked toward Annette.
“Twenty-two,” she said quietly.
Annette blinked. “I’m sorry?”
The sultry, presumptuous smile that split Jill’s features in that moment took Annette’s breath away.
“My age,” the girl said. “You didn’t ask, but I figured you were wondering. Someday I’ll be glad I look younger, or so I’m told. Usually it’s damned inconvenient. Like now, for instance.”
For a moment Annette only gazed at her. Then her eyebrows went up and she shook her head. “Twenty-nine,” she said softly, as she raised her cup to her lips again.
“What do you say I grab a café latte and we go for a walk?” Jill asked.
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