Chapter 10: Too Soon

The next morning was mercifully warmer than the last. I awoke with that same sense of purpose, but I was worried about what novel way House might try to work against us. The reverse side of the coin was, being that they were friends, maybe underneath that gruff exterior and devil-may-care attitude he genuinely was trying to look out for James. But why?

Figuring I should leave well enough alone before I caused myself undue anxiety, I contemplated the evening to come. It would be interesting to be on not so neutral territory – I wondered what his home looked like. Moreover, I wondered what movies he selected. Film noir, romance, or a period drama perchance?

Despite my concerns and wanting to be careful, James was essentially everything I could ever want in a partner. He wasn't too cloying, and always had my best interests in mind, it seemed. Holding a grudge for his minor lapse the day before seemed too vainglorious – and he did have a reason, and that reason was to protect me in the long run. I'd consider riding in with him if we could keep House at bay. But that was a conundrum for a later date.

I brushed my hair into Gilda-style waves after dressing and packing my messenger bag. I shifted the contents over to make room for that night's outfit – a leopard print cashmere sweater with an off the shoulder Bardot neckline, and form fitting black slacks. I wrapped a pair of black suede ballet flats in a plastic grocery bag, nestling them inside as well.

Going over to the entertainment center, I packed my copy of Now, Voyager to add to our film queue.

I caught the bus just as it pulled in, taking a seat toward the front. Bored with the tune of rumbling axels and the grind of pavement beneath rubber, I dug around in the pockets of my bag for my iPod.

Walking in the office I was singing somewhat softly, with hardly a care in the world.

"Maybe this won't last very long
But you feel so right
And I could be wrong
Maybe I've been hoping too hard
But I've gone this far
And it's more than I hoped for

Who knows how much further we'll go on
Maybe I'll be sorry when you're gone
I'll take my chances
I forgot how nice romance is
I haven't been there for the longest time…"

"Morning." James smiled from his desk, halting my reverie.

"Oh um…morning. I was just…" I blathered, yanking the headphones from my ears and setting my bag down.

"Don't let me stop you…" he said, chuckling softly. "I was rather enjoying it."

I went red. "So what's on tap for today?"

"No fires to put out thus far… there's some labs to order and annotate, prescriptions too." He said. "I was just about to go see…" before he could finish speaking, the phone rang. He excused himself.

"Hello Patricia, how are you?" he answered.

Patricia was Marie's eldest daughter. Marie's breast cancer was showing signs of being beaten, much to everyone's delight. In the past, Patricia's position as a stock broker in New York meant she faced an uphill battle with getting time off to see her mother, but now it was finally becoming easier.

"Oh that's wonderful news! We'll be right in!" I heard him say, a bright smile lighting up his face.

"Marie's hair has come back completely!" he said excitedly upon hanging up.

"Fantastic!" I said, following him to her room.

"Well if it isn't Cary Grant and Rita Hayworth!" Marie joked as we entered.

We laughed, each giving her a hug.

"Congratulations, Marie. I'm so happy for you." James said. She responded with warm gratitude.

I got a little misty eyed when it was my turn, saying my own well wishes.

"Aww, no leaky eyes now, kiddo." She said, handing me a tissue from her table.

"Happy tears." I murmured, wiping the stray tear or two that fell.

James moved to hug Patricia, each remarking about Marie's miraculous progress and road to recovery.

Meanwhile, Marie called me over to sit beside her. She picked up her hand mirror; an ornate silver plated one she brought from home, gazing into it.

"It's incredible…" she said, awed. "My hair's got the same natural wave as it did in '41."

I smiled. "Yes, often times the chemo will reset time's effect on hair."

"You're not kidding!" she commented, and then added, lower, setting the mirror down. "Will you do me a favor?"

"Of course." I replied softly.

"Will you set it in pin curls for me?" she asked.

"Now?" I asked. "I don't have anything to…"

She beamed. "Not to worry, I've got all my pins here. I had Trish bring them with her."

"I'd be honored to." I said, touched.

"Dr. Wilson." I said, getting his attention.

"Yes, Kate?" he asked.

"Marie has asked me to set her hair." I said. "Is it okay if I get started?"

"Go right ahead." He smiled, and then said to Marie. "You're in good hands…what with the lovely styles she's created on herself."

My face colored and I looked down for a moment.

"I don't doubt it!" Marie said, grinning.

"Shall we leave you to it, Mama?" Patricia asked. "Dr. Wilson and I have to discuss your next treatment steps. We'll be just outside." And with that, she handed me a bag full of silver double-pronged clips, and a rat tail comb.

"Okay, sweetheart." Marie said, waving at them as they left.

I re-positioned myself on the bed so I could easily reach. As I sectioned and curled each piece of her snow white hair, we sang Andrews Sisters songs and talked about changes in society.

"All set, my dear." I said, gently tying the silk scarf I also found in the bag around her head, finishing the ends in an attractive bow. "When I bring your lunch I'll brush it out for you, if you want."

"All right, angel." She said. "You really are one, you know."

"Thank you." I said, giving her another light hug as Patricia and James walked in.

"Oh damn!" Marie swore mildly. "You know what I forgot? Trish sweetie, in your purse, get the picture."

I tilted my head in curiosity. Patricia handed me a sepia toned photograph with a white scalloped edge that was slightly yellowed. In it, stood a young woman saluting proudly in a nurse's uniform, in front of a destroyer bearing the name Raleigh. On the reverse was written:

Marie Elizabeth LaCroix

Pearl Harbor, HI

October 1941

My eyes filled with tears for the second time that day. "It's… you're so beautiful." I said in watery voice.

James looked like his heart melted on the spot. Patricia and Marie both smiled.

"I wanted you to have it." Marie said. "Just a little reminder to keep the faith when times get rough."

"Thank you so much, I'll treasure it always." I said, fully crying.

Both women hugged me now.

"You were instrumental in saving Mama's life." Patricia said. "I can't thank you enough."

"You are eternally welcome." I said. "I love when I can help someone and see them smile."

"It shows." Patricia said.

We bid our goodbyes and James and I returned to the nitty gritty of the day at hand.

"I have a consult in about twenty minutes, and there were some prescription and lab orders needing to be filled out as we were discussing before…." He told me. "I know you haven't had much experience in doing that on your own, but I think you've got it covered."

I saluted very much like in Marie's picture. "Sir yes sir!" I said, smiling. He laughed, going off to his appointment.

I sat in the chair and began to tackle the orders, when a knock came on the door courtesy of a flame adorned cane. I glanced up briefly.

"Come in, House." I said, looking back at my paperwork.

He entered, but did not sit.

"Keep it brief, please, I'm working." I said, still avoiding his gaze.

"I know about you and Wilson." He said in his usual brusque tone.

"I know that you know." I said, leaving the doctor signature line blank on an order for Velban and setting it aside. "Why bother to tell me something that's already fact?"

"Because while I think the relationship is a mistake, in giving it some thought I'm glad to see that for the time being he isn't miserable." His tone was smoother now, a little cool.

That made me look up again, frowning.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked.

"He's had a rough life." House continued. "I won't say much more than that."

"Fine." I said, hoping that was the end of the conversation.

He sighed. "Just… treat him well, okay?"

I frowned a second time, but I found myself nodding as he left.

"What in the fresh hell…?" I muttered to myself. I decided to not let it faze me, and to focus instead on the milestone of Marie's certain remission.

As I was getting changed for the evening, what House had mentioned kept playing back in my mind. Why did he feel it necessary to tell me something so personal, something that James probably would have revealed in his own time?

I toyed with the idea of talking to him about it, ultimately scrapping it in favor wanting to have an enjoyable evening together.

I waited for him in the lobby, sharing a shy smile as we walked to his car.

"So…where did you get the recipe for the macaroni and cheese you're making?" he asked.

"It's actually one of Paula Deen's, on the Food Network you know?" I said.

"Yeah, I've heard of her." He said. "I can't wait to try it…" he said, turning the key in the ignition.

"I'm glad." I said, smiling, noticing a square, white pastry box nestled snugly in the backseat.

"What's that?" I asked, hooking my thumb toward it.

"After lunch today I went to The Little Chef… the bakery on South Tulane?" he said. "I picked up some tiramisu for dessert tonight."

"Oooh…" I said. "Getting fancy on me again, huh?"

We laughed.

"What are you gonna do with Marie's picture?" he asked as we headed south on Route 206 to Elm Road.

"Frame it and put it in my room." I replied. "That woman is a treasure."

"She is…that's such a special gift." His expression was visibly moved. "Do you have any idea the effect you're having on the patients?"

I hadn't, to be honest. I simply saw it as doing my job above what was expected and connecting with others in an empathetic way. "Tell me?" I asked softly.

"They adore you…" he said as we slowed at an intersection. "They always tell me what a sunny disposition you have…how helpful you are in answering questions and easing fears. Their outlooks are becoming less and less bleak…you're incredible, honey."

There was that name again. This time, it made my face erupt in pure joy. House's revelation seemed a distant memory.

"Thank you." I said. "I've never been more contented than I am right now, honest to goodness. I feel at peace."

"I'm so glad." He said, turning down another street, Prospect Avenue, parallel parking in front of a row of condominiums overlooking Carnegie Lake.

He turned to me, smiling. "We're here."

I let out a whistle, taking in as much of the building as I could see sitting down. "I like it already."

"Just wait." He said as we climbed out of the car. Our arms braced our belongings as we rode the elevator up to the top floor.

In the entryway, I swapped out my winter boots for the flats, following him inside when he opened the door. We hung our coats on the rack.

Though it was nighttime, I could tell that during the day the open floor plan of the art deco space afforded a lot of light to pour in. The furnishings were all in earth tones or hunter green, the tables were of rich, warm woods. There were large windows everywhere, the biggest being in the living room. James put the tiramisu in the fridge, and I didn't see where he went after that.

I heard his voice say "Kate…come here. I want to show you something." I followed the sound to the living room.

When I entered, he was finishing pulling back the draperies. He turned and beckoned, coming to stand behind me.

My eyes were met with one of the most breathtaking views I had ever seen. Carnegie Lake glittered like a jewel with the moonlight and sprawl of the city around it. The lights twinkled and glowed warm orange as they bounced off the buildings.

"Gorgeous, isn't it?" he whispered in my ear as I felt his arms wrap around my waist, his head coming to rest on my shoulder.

I nodded. "It's amazing."

Our gazes turned away from the picturesque scene and instead focused on each other. He regarded me with a sudden intensity, drinking in every detail of my face. He leaned down and kissed my lips, keeping his movements slow and gentle, but lingering. We turned to better face each other, my arms winding around his neck as his hands cupped the back of my head, tenderly moving through the waves of my hair.

"James…need to breathe…" I murmured after several minutes, giggling softly.

"Oh…right…" he said sheepishly.

I bit my lip, heart still thrumming from the contact.

"Been wanting to do that all day." He confessed.

My cheeks flooded with color. "It was nice…" I said, voice still very quiet.

He smiled, but it was coyer than earlier.

"You look so pretty." He complimented.

"Thank you." I said.

"Then again you always do…" he added.

"Stop…" I said, blushing again.

He chuckled. "Listen… I'm going to go get changed into something more casual. When I come back…I'll show you where everything in the kitchen is for when you're ready."

"Okay." I said, sitting on the couch. I looked all around. There were more movie posters like he had in his office, and several books. Classics, mostly, like Moby Dick and The Age of Innocence.

He came out a split second later, still in work attire, apologizing.

"I'm sorry…" he said. "May I get you something to drink? I feel like I've been a bit of a heel tonight…"

"Relax, you're doing fine. Get changed first and we'll worry about beverages later." I soothed.

He nodded, smiling again, emerging a little while later in well tailored dark blue jeans, a McGill University sweatshirt, and sneakers.

"Alrighty…" he said, padding over to the fridge as I tagged along. "To drink we have Coke, water, OJ, iced tea, milk…I could also mix you a drink or make tea."

"I'll have iced tea, please." I said.

"You got it." He replied, pouring some into a green tumbler and handing it to me. He got water for himself.

He gave me a tour of the kitchen, pointing out that the colander and casserole dish were kept in the left cabinet below the coffee maker, pots and pans in the drawer below the oven, and that utensils could be found in the drawer next to the sink. I took note of it as he also gave me a tour of the rest of his home. Everything was organized and tidy – with a definite scholarly air.

"So yeah…this is my little corner of the world…" he said, leaning against the door frame leading to a small library.

"You really do have great taste – another thing we have in common." I said.

"Thank you." He said, the next minute his stomach rumbled.

"I'll start dinner then?" I asked.

"If you wouldn't mind." He said, blushing a bit.

"Not at all." I said, going to the fridge.

He adopted the role of sous chef, moving ahead of me and getting out the ingredients as I got the dishes I'd need.

I preheated the oven to 350 and started to par boil the noodles. He asked what he could do to lend a hand.

"Um…you could beat the three eggs for me, if you want, and measure out the sour cream." I said.

"How much sour cream?" He asked, stirring the yolks in a circular motion with a fork until a yellow froth formed.

"Half a cup." I said, removing the noodles from the heat after cooking about four minutes.

"You know this recipe by heart…" He commented, finishing beating the eggs and scooping out the sour cream.

"It's my go to for this type of meal." I said. "A big hit at family parties."

"I bet." He said. "Do I combine the sour cream with the eggs?"

"Oh, um, yes, sorry." I said, losing where I was momentarily. "Then add a cup of milk and a teaspoon of salt."

"Don't worry about it." He said, getting to work.

I drained the pasta, mixing in a generous amount of cheddar cheese, slightly over two cups, after returning it to the pot.

"Oh crap!" I exclaimed. "I forgot all about the butter." I felt awkward about doing so after what he said about the recipe.

He brought over the bowl with the other ingredients, speaking calmly. "I got it…how much of that do you need?"

"Four tablespoons cut into pieces." I said.

He prepared the butter as I poured in the egg, sour cream, and milk mixture.

"How's that look?" he asked once he finished.

"Perfect, drop it on in there." I said.

He spooned the butter into the pot, and I struggled to give it a final stir, not able to get enough leverage.

"Need help?" he asked.

"Yeah." I admitted, still a little embarrassed.

I stepped aside as he handily dug the spoon to the bottom of the pot, blending everything well. He spooned it into the casserole dish too, smoothing it into a uniform layer.

"This looks delicious." He said. "Does it need anything else?"

"Just some more cheese." I said, sprinkling a heaping handful over the top as the oven beeped.

"I…have a suggestion." He said.

"Go ahead." I replied.

He gestured with his hands as he spoke. "I have breadcrumbs with Italian seasoning…maybe some of those on top would be good too?"

My eyes lit up. "Oh, that'd be great! Will you do the honors?"

"Absolutely." He said, retrieving the bag from the cupboard next to the fridge, dusting a thin coating over the cheese.

"Excellent." I said, putting on potholders and sliding the dish into the oven. "Now, it bakes for about forty minutes."

"Sounds good. Want to start a movie in the meantime?" he recommended.

"Sure!" I said. "I brought Now, Voyager, but we could start with one of your own if you wish."

He paused for a minute. "Hmm…how about a light hearted comedy? Bringing Up Baby?"

"Yes! Haven't seen that in so long!" I squealed.

I could tell by the look on his face that he found my giddiness endearing. He put in the DVD, and as it went to the menu, he got an extra pillow and a thick knitted blanket, placing the pillow on the end of the couch facing the television.

"Make yourself at home." He said, taking off his sneakers and putting them aside. I took off my flats, revealing red painted toenails.

He sat on the couch and hoisted himself up onto it, fluffing the blanket out. He rested his back against the pillow, patting the vacant spot on the cushions next to him.

My stomach fluttered as traces of the dream I had in his office came to mind. I settled in, my back flush against his chest. As he pressed play, I felt his hand slide down beneath the blanket to find my own hand, lacing our fingers together.

When Huxley tried to impress Peabody to get the needed one million dollar endowment for his museum, the oven went off. James reached to pause the movie.

"I'll get it." I said, moving off of him.

"No, allow me..." He insisted. "You're the guest." And with that, he kissed my cheek and went to fetch the food.

"Hon?" he called from the kitchen. "How much would you like?"

"Just a spoonful or two is good, thank you." I called back.

He walked back into the living room, serving me first. "Would you care for a refill on your drink?"

"Mmm…I think I'm ready for a glass of wine, if you have any that is. I don't mean to impose…" I said.

"No imposition at all." He said, setting down his own plate. "I have a 2011 Chardonnay, actually."

"That will pair up nicely." I said. He smiled and poured the wine, and we repositioned ourselves on the couch again – meals in our laps and wine glasses on coasters on the nearby coffee table.

"Kate…this is absolutely out of this world." He said quietly in praise of the food. "Best macaroni and cheese I've had, and I'm not just saying so."

I grinned, kissing his nose after taking a sip of wine. "You're welcome."

He grinned too, taking another bite.

I started to think how easy it was to be with him, how natural it felt. He seemed happy, contrary to what House alluded to, but maybe my presence was helping that. I had to admit, we did make a cute couple, and we seemed to be good for each other.

We finished a second helping of the pasta when the movie ended, chests settling down after the heaving of laughter.

James cleared the dishes away and wrapped up the leftovers. I followed into the kitchen to wipe up any mess left from cooking. He asked if we could watch the movie I brought.

We each had a piece of tiramisu right as Charlotte arrived in Rio. Not long after, I felt James getting closer and closer to me as we cuddled. I scooted into him and rested my head on his chest, listening to the steady thudding of his heart as I was certain mine was gaining speed. By Charlotte's second visit to the sanitorium he was holding me completely, every now and again swooping in to place a tiny kiss on my jaw or shoulder. Those little gestures kept continuing until his lips found mine again. This time it was even more intense, his hands tangling in my hair as opposed to just running through it, my hands came up to splay on his back and went into his hair as well, the end credits playing in the background.

"I'm falling for you…" he murmured softly against my lips.

My mind went into a tailspin. The thoughts I had about us being sweet and maybe even right for each other were just a toe dip in the pool. I wasn't ready for something as deep and committing as love.

I broke the kiss, scrambling to think how best to respond.

"Don't let's ask for the moon…" I gasped. "When we have the stars." My eyes searched his.

"What?" he said on a breath. "That's from the…"

"I know." I said. "James…I like you. Very much. I'll even say I care about you. But I can't say I'm falling for you…not yet."

The pained look that greeted me made me feel like a perfect idiot, even if what I said was how I truly felt.

"I should go…" I finally said.

"No…please stay." He was practically begging, and it hurt my heart.

"I don't want to hurt you anymore than I already have." I said, kissing his cheek. "I have tomorrow off. Maybe I'll call you and we can talk then. When we don't have a fair amount of alcohol and the atmosphere of Old Hollywood romance buzzing in our skulls."

"Okay." He sighed.

I smiled sympathetically, though I was sure the ache I felt was prevalent on my features. I allowed him a chaste kiss goodnight before asking him to take me home.

We drove the entire way to Plainsboro in silence, unsure of what the next day would bring, or how it would bode for the future.