A/N: At last, I am done with this chapter. I had so looked forward to it and, when I finally got to it, it betrayed me by being the most difficult one to write so far. As a result, I'm not at all pleased with it, but I'm flexible, so I'll get over it. I may have gone overboard though, so feel free to tell me so. As always, thanks so much for your reviews; I appreciate them greatly.
Jane and Adam – Joan lied about what time Adam was supposed to come pick her up for their movie date. I really just needed a way to get into the chapter and that helped.
KateM – I agree with you wholeheartedly. I'm so tired of write just about Joan, Adam, Grace and God. It's a problem I have in my writing; I tend to focus on a small number of characters. Others are coming soon—they're just of my own creation, I think. I don't know what I'm writing next anymore. I do, however, promise to try and do better, faster.
Disclaimer: The two songs I used in this chapter are With These Hands and For All We Know. Both are by Joe Sample, a jazz pianist, but are sung by Howard Hewitt and Lalah Hathaway, respectively.
On with the story. Enjoy.
"I can't get over how awesome that was!" Madison exclaimed as she and Adam entered her apartment building. They had just returned from the opening night gala of Adam's latest art show. While it was his third since graduation, it was Madison's first time attending such an event and she was still buzzed about it.
"There were so many people. So many important people," she chirped as they got on the elevator. "It must be so cool to have such influential people interested in your work."
He shrugged. "It's not bad," he admitted.
"Not bad! Are you kidding?" Madison exclaimed as they got off on her floor. She tended to speak in exclamation points. Pouting, she handed him her door key. "I wish people were as interested in my work as they are in yours."
Instead of answering immediately, Adam focused on unlocking the door. Madison was a struggling actress fresh out of college. Between her off-off-Broadway roles, she worked as a part-time assistant for Adam's mentor, Dr. Riley. Pushing opening the door, he stepped back so she could enter. She flipped on the lights and he tossed her keys on the end table. "Give it time," he said. After all, she was talented. He just wasn't sure she was talented enough. "If theatre's what you're meant to do, it'll happen."
Collapsing on her couch, Adam mentally cringed at what he'd just said. Could he be more unoriginal? But Madison didn't notice. She settled next to him and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, baby."
Inwardly, he flinched. He hated it when she called him "baby." No matter how many times he asked her not to, she just wouldn't call him anything else. "You're welcome," came his toneless reply.
"It went really well tonight, didn't it?" she asked as she ruffled his hair.
Adam just nodded. Oddly, he wasn't as pleased by this as he knew he should be. His career was going better than he'd ever expected. Tonight's showing would likely garner a slew of favorable reviews. He smiled at how arrogant that sounded. The critics could think his collection was crap, but he'd continued in the same vein as his last show, so he doubted it. He was living his dream. He'd left home to pursue it. Yet, in the back of his mind, Adam felt an inexplicable sense of dissatisfaction.
"I'm thirsty," Madison said suddenly. "Can I get you something?" she asked on her way to her tiny kitchen.
"A glass of water."
"Coming right up."
Stretching his legs out in front of him, Adam folded his hands over his stomach and concentrated on relaxing his tense muscles. He'd been wound tight for days now, but had dismissed it as nervousness over the upcoming show. Now that the showing was over, he didn't know what was bothering him. Maybe he was simply tired. Not just long-day tired or haven't-been-sleeping-lately tired but soul tired.
"Here you go." Madison plopped down beside him and handed him his water.
Adam watched her slip her shoes off and settle into the sofa. She seemed to him the epitome of vivacity. Next to her, he felt all of seventy years old. I'm only twenty-five, he thought and stifled a yawn.
"Oh, poor baby," she cooed. "You're tired. I suppose you have had a long day."
"Yeah, I did. I should go home."
"You know you don't have to go." Her normally placid blue eyes darkened as they traveled the stretched length of his body.
Though they had been dating for the past four months, Adam found Madison's perusal disturbing. Sitting up, he offered her a weak smile and patted her hand in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. "I'm sorry," he said. "I have to go."
Disappointment replaced the brief flash of desire he'd glimpsed. With another weak smile, he gave her a brief, conciliatory kiss. "I'll call you tomorrow."
"Okay."
Adam practically fled the building and hailed a cab outside. What is wrong with you, he thought as he leaned back against the seat. Madison was sweet and kind and beautiful. All of his friends thought so. He thought so. But the idea of making the transition from dating to couple didn't sit well with him. Just like with his career, something was missing from their relationship.
What he needed was a different perspective, he decided as the cab stopped in front of his building. He paid the driver and went up to his apartment. It was late; Rodney and Kat were either asleep or out. Too tired to shower, Adam trudged into his bedroom, changed into his pajamas and crawled into bed. But sleep didn't come. He needed to talk about whatever was going on with him and he knew that his roommates would be no help when they got back. Who could he call at two in the morning who could help? Grace.
He dialed Grace's number before he could talk himself out of it. Though he knew she wouldn't be thrilled about the late night call, he also knew she'd understand.
He was on the verge of hanging up when the line was answered. "H'lo?" a sleepy voice said.
"Grace?" he asked. This was her number, but the woman's voice did not sound like his oldest friend's.
"Adam?" All traces of sleep had left the speaker's voice leaving Adam stunned.
Jane. "What are you doing there?" he asked, wincing at the harsh demand in his tone. "Are you visiting?"
"No. She must not have told you; I live here now," Joan said quietly.
"Oh. Um, is Grace there?"
"She's sleeping. I guess I could wake her, if you want."
"No, that's okay." What was he going to do now? Jane was the last person who could help him. The memory of her lying in bed beside him, her hair rumpled and a soft smile on her lips, came to mind. His stomach clinched and he wondered what she looked like now. Why didn't he have thoughts like this about Madison?
"How are you?"
"Fine."
"No, you're not," she said so quickly, it sounds automatic. "I'm sorry."
"What makes you think I'm not fine?" Even he heard the defensiveness in his voice. Well, they do say a struck dog will holler.
"I shouldn't have . . ." Joan sighed. "It's in your voice. And it's two in the morning. That's late, even for you. But I shouldn't have said anything. I'll, uh, I'll tell Grace you called. Good night, Adam."
Joan hung up before he could say anything else. Like "I'm sorry." He shouldn't have treated her like that. His confusion about his life wasn't her fault. Maybe he should call back and apologize. For what? a tiny voice inside taunted. For your behavior tonight or for your behavior over the past three years? Shoulders drooping like a chastised child's, Adam hung up his phone. She deserved better than a quick one-minute phone apology.
It's in your voice. How had she known? He thought of Madison's unawareness to his mood at her apartment. Was Madison just oblivious or did Joan still have a deep, almost eerie, understanding of his emotions?
Knowing that he wouldn't get any answers to his questions tonight, Adam slipped under the covers and closed his eyes. Despite the fatigue that plagued his body, sleep eluded him. He attempted to relax his body the way he had at Madison's. He just kept seeing her disappointed blue eyes as he got up to leave. He forced the uncomfortable memory from his mind and focused on clearing his mind. A pair of sympathetic brown eyes filled his mind's eye. An ironically content smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as he drifted to sleep.
* * * * * * * * * * *
A slight frown marred Joan's brow as she watched Adam. While there was nothing overtly peculiar about his behavior, she sensed that something was on Adam's mind. The same thing that had been on his mind for the past few days. She forced the thought away. They were in a romantic restaurant—Italian, of course—a Puccini opera playing softly in the background. The food was amazing. She would not ruin their first actual date by probing into something Adam obviously wasn't ready to share with her. Swirling her wine in its glass, Joan took a sip before deciding on a safe discussion topic. "How do you like helping Mom with her art classes?"
Adam looked up as if he were surprised to find her there. She didn't know whether she should be offended or not. In the interest of keeping the peace, she decided to let his inattention go without remark. It wasn't like this was the first time he'd slipped off into his own world when they'd been together.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to . . ." he stammered, laughing sheepishly. "It's good. Most of her students are really passionate about art. Working with them reminds me of what that feels like."
"So, you've got your art back?" She twirled her fork in her linguine.
"Not entirely, but it's getting there."
Joan nodded. It pleased her to know that his art was coming back. One less thing for him to worry about. "Do you have any idea what caused your block?"
Adam set down his fork and pondered Joan's question. Finally, he said, "I think it's my life in New York. There are some things I need to fix when I get back."
Hoping to hide her distress at the thought of his leaving, Joan dropped her eyes to her plate. Is that what he'd been thinking about lately? She'd been thinking about it, too. The time when he'd have to leave her was near and they hadn't talked about it.
Risking a glance at Adam, she noticed that he'd developed an intense interest in his lasagna. Was tonight their last night together and he just hadn't told her? No. Stop thinking like that, she scolded herself. Focus on the present. Enjoy being with him now.
Pasting a bright smile on her face, Joan said lightly, "Well, you're going to be sorely missed."
Adam narrowed wary eyes at Joan's casual tone. It was the tone she used when she knew something funny that he didn't; something that invariably embarrassed him. "Why do I think you're talking about someone other than yourself?"
She widened her eyes as if surprised. "You don't know?"
"Know what?"
Joan grinned, grateful that the awkwardness of a few seconds ago had passed. "That you're the new school hottie."
"I'm what?" Adam demanded. Surely she hadn't said what he thought she'd said.
"You heard me." Joan enjoyed the disbelieving expression on Adam's face. "All the young ladies of Arcadia High are in love with you."
Adam leaned back in his seat, nonplus. "You've got to be kidding me."
"I'm afraid not," Joan said. "Your presence has created a shift in the school dynamic that I've never seen before."
"I don't want to know, do I?"
"It seems that the art girls are the envy of all the girls, even the cheerleaders." When his jaw dropped, Joan couldn't contain her laughter any longer. "It's true. They suddenly have major social clout because they get to spend so much time with you.
"Come on, Jane."
"I wouldn't lie about something like this. Haven't you noticed the way the girls watch you strut down the hall?"
Looking offended, Adam exclaimed, "I don't strut."
"Okay. If you say so," she conceded in a mockingly placating voice. "But they watch you and fantasize about you. They write angst-ridden love poems and 'Mrs. Adam Rove' over and over in their notebooks. And they shoot death glares at a certain school counselor because you like to have lunch with her. I tell you, it's like being in college again."
"I'm telling you now like I told you then," he sighed, "girls don't look at me like that."
Joan just shook her head. "And I'm telling you now like I told you then, yes, they do." It never ceased to amaze her that Adam didn't realize how attractive he was.
"I'm the one with the photographic memory. I should know."
"You're also famous for your observational skills," she countered, her voice dripping with good-natured sarcasm. "Trust me on this, you're a hottie and I'm getting death glares. Again."
Adam blushed, at a loss for words. He really was the most adorable man she'd ever known.
"On the upside," she said, "I have the same advantage I had last time."
"And that would be?"
Resting her arms on the table, Joan leaned toward him. "I have dibs on you and I'm not giving them up."
"That's good to know."
They smiled at each other. Adam rested his hand on hers and she twined their fingers together. He gave her hand a slight squeeze. Joan glanced down at the table, a faint blush creeping up her neck. How did he do that to her so easily?
The waiter came then and took their plates. "Will you be having dessert?"
Joan opened her mouth to accept, but Adam spoke first. "No, thank you. Just the check, please."
Smiling at her outraged expression, Adam lightly stroked her thumb with his. "Don't worry. I know how you feel about dessert. You won't be deprived."
"You have something planned."
"Yes, I do."
"I can't wait."
In seemingly no time, Adam had paid the check and they were sitting in his rental car.
"So, where are we going?"
"It's a surprise," he answered, taking her hand and twining their fingers again.
"Can't you give me a hint?"
He raised their joined hands and brushed a kiss across the back of her hand. "You trust me, don't you?"
Joan stared into his sparkling eyes and her breathe caught in her throat. She stroked his cheek with her thumb. "You know I do."
"Good." He started the car and pulled off.
Settling back in her seat, Joan let her mind wander as he drove. For the last month, they had been "hanging out." They had decided to keep their time together as simple as possible, especially since neither knew how long that time would last. So they had focused on rekindling their friendship. Their near-kiss at the movies two weeks ago had forced them to redouble their efforts to remain strictly platonic. However, after Helen had invited Adam to "guest-teach" with her, he and Joan had spent even more time together. The strictly platonic thing had been slowly eroding ever since.
Tonight was the first time either of them had done anything blatantly romantic. Excited yet scared, Joan glanced at Adam and wondered what he had planned for her. Whatever it was, she was certain of only one thing: she and Adam could never be "just friends." Unfortunately, that didn't leave them with a lot of options if things didn't work out.
"Jane," Adam said, interrupting her thoughts. "We're here."
They were parked outside of his dad's house. Adam got out, came around to her side and opened the door for her. As they came up the walk, Mr. Rove bustled out the house. "You kids have a good night."
"Thanks, Dad," Adam said and led Joan into the house.
She gasped at the scene before her. There was a fire going in the fireplace and candles blazed everywhere. On the coffee table were two glasses of wine and a single plate holding a slice of cheesecake drizzled with raspberry sauce. An elegant white tulip lay next to the plate.
Adam escorted a speechless Joan to the table and seated her on the cushion before the plate. Sitting down beside her, he picked up a remote and turned on the stereo. Soft, romantic jazz filled the living room. "Surprise."
Joan lifted her eyes to his—pleasure and wonder evident in her gaze. "This is incredible, Adam. Thank you."
"You're welcome." He picked up the only fork and filled it with cheesecake. He held it out to her.
Smiling, she let him feed her. "Oh," she moaned as the rich, creamy flavor of the dessert melted on her tongue. "Oh, that's good. Where did you get this?"
"I made it."
She raised an eyebrow at him. "This is sinful, you know that, right?"
"I'm glad you like it," he laughed as he continued feeding her.
Joan had eaten half of the cake before she realized that Adam wasn't eating any. "Aren't you having any dessert?"
He shook his head and lifted another forkful to her lips. "Watching you is all the dessert I need."
She blushed and averted her eyes, hoping he hadn't noticed the flare of desire in them. Apparently, he'd realized they couldn't just be friends, too. Finally, Adam swirled the last bite of cheesecake in the sauce and fed it to her. Leaning against the sofa behind them, Joan closed her eyes and relished the last of the luscious treat.
Resting his head on his fist, Adam watched her. A satisfied smile graced her lips and brought one to his own. Noticing a smear of cheesecake at the corner of her mouth, he wiped it off with his thumb before realizing what he'd done.
Her eyes flew open and she watched him sucked the dessert into his mouth. Suddenly very aware of his nearness, Joan picked up the tulip and brought it to her nose. "No rose?"
Shaking his head, Adam tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "I learned from Eric's mistake. Besides, tulips are better suited to you. Not so obvious."
She smiled. "Tonight was lovely."
"It's not over yet unless you need to go home," he whispered.
Joan looked up at him. It wasn't even eight o'clock—much too early to go home, far too soon to leave him. "I don't want to go home yet."
With a nod, Adam stood and held his hand out to her. "In that case, would you like to dance?"
"I'd love to," she said as she took his hand and allowed him to lead her to an empty expanse of floor. He took her into his arms and they began to dance.
"When's the last time we did this?" she asked.
"Senior prom."
"We should have done this more often," she murmured as she relaxed into his arms.
Adam shrugged. "Maybe. I don't think it would have been the same."
"No," Joan admitted, "but it would have been nice. This is nice."
Moving closer to Adam, Joan rested her head on his shoulder. He laid her hand over his heart and pressed his over it. This is better than nice, she thought. She closed her eyes and savored the feeling of being in his arms again. As far as she was concerned, it had been much too long.
One love song led to another as they danced. They had been dancing for some time when Adam began singing along softly in her ear.
With these hands/
I will cling to you/
I'm yours/
Forever and a day/
Joan smiled as the lyrics enveloped around them. Nope. Definitely not "just" friends.
And with these hands/
I will bring to you/
A tender love/
As warm as May/
And with this heart/
I will sing/
I will sing to you/
Long after the stars/
Have lost their glow/
And with these hands/
I'll provide for you/
And should there be/
A stormy sea/
I'll turn the tide for you/
And I'll never/
No, I'll never, no/
No, I'll never let /
Never let you go/
Tears sprang to her eyes at the words and she blinked them back as the bridge played. He meant them; she could hear it in his voice. She felt elated and confused and sorrowful at the same time. Everything he'd just sang, she felt, too. But the situation wasn't that simple. One or both of them would have to make a major life change. She'd just done that last year when she moved back to Arcadia. She didn't know if she could do that again. And she couldn't ask him to leave his life for her. The song ended and Joan pulled back out of his arms, hiding her teary eyes from him. "I need to sit for a minute."
She made her way to the armchair and sank into it. Her feet hurt so she decided to solve that problem instead of dealing with her suddenly high emotions. Leaning over, she attempted to take off one of her shoes but couldn't see to do it. With frustration adding itself to her growing list of emotions, Joan tried again.
Her hair had fallen forward and surrounded her. Adam stood where she'd left him, entranced by the beautiful picture she made. After her third attempt, he realized that she was having trouble with the buckles. Squatting before her, Adam gently pushed her hands aside and undid her shoe. Just as he set it down, he heard her sniff. He lifted her chin and pushed the hair out of her face. She was crying. Without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, which he handed to her.
"I'd forgotten you used to carry these," she whispered as she blotted her tears. "I hated these things."
"You did?" Joan nodded. "Why?"
"They made me feel like a crybaby."
"You do seem to cry a lot," he teased gently.
Gasping with mock outrage, Joan playfully hit his shoulder, throwing him off-balance. He landed on his butt and Joan giggled. "Sorry."
"No, you're not." He laughed and sat before her, Indian-style. Pulling her other leg into his lap, he removed her other shoe. He watched her face soften, her lips part, before she raised her eyes to his. They captured his, showing him everything that she wasn't ready to say. She swallowed and dropped her eyes to her foot. Adam followed her gaze and found himself absently rubbing her instep. This evening wasn't going the way he'd planned. The time wasn't right for him and Joan to take the next step, he knew that. Reluctantly and with great resolve, Adam put her foot on the floor and stood. "I, uh, I need to go get something."
"Okay." Joan watched him leave the room and damned her overwrought emotions for ruining a lovely evening. But, instead of following Adam, she went to stand in front of the fireplace. She knew that he'd left to give her some time to pull herself together. "Why do you make everything so hard, Girardi?" she muttered to herself. "You know what you want. Stop being so negative and go after it." It was easier said than done. All she really knew was that she wanted him. Unfortunately, she had no clue how she should go about getting him.
Suddenly, a pair of masculine hands glided over her stomach. Adam wrapped her in his arms from behind and propped his chin on her shoulder. They began to sway gently to the music. "Jane?"
"Yes?"
"Let's just enjoy the evening, okay?" he whispered. "No pressure, no worries about the future. Just the two of us, right now."
Nodding, she whispered back, "All right."
They stared into the fire, soaking in the pleasure of being together. The overwhelming feeling of rightness she felt whenever she was with Adam always amazed her. No one else had ever brought her the sense of completion that being in his arms gave her.
"Why didn't we dance like this more often?" Joan asked again as a jazzy standard started playing.
"I don't know," he said, giving her a little hug, "but I've gotten far too used to doing this since then."
"How many other girls have you done this with?"
"Not this this," he said, smiling at the hint of jealousy in her voice. "Dancing in general."
"Why?"
"Kat," he answered, referring to his roommate's girlfriend. "She found it appalling that I couldn't dance."
"I thought you danced fine."
"So did I. However, Kat said that if it was the last thing she did, she'd teach me how to do more than sway in a circle in time to the music. Thus, the dance lessons began. I can now do the foxtrot, the two-step, the waltz, the Charleston, and a slew of Latin dances."
The mental image of Adam doing the foxtrot made her smile. "How did she manage to coerce you into all that?"
Adam laughed. "Kat's kind of an irresistible force of nature. Once she'd made up her mind, that was it. There was no hope of me getting out of it."
"Well, she did a very good job."
"Thanks." He kissed her cheek. "I'll be sure to let her know."
At the mention of his impending departure, they fell silent again. As if by mutual agreement, they continued to sway while the tension subsided.
For all we know/
We may never meet again/
Before you go/
Make this moment sweet again/
We won't say goodnight/
Until the last minute/
I'll hold out my hand/
And my heart will be in it/
Joan sighed and closed her eyes against the sadness. She couldn't ignore the signs anymore. "When do you leave?"
"Day after tomorrow," Adam said.
"What time?"
"One. I just made the arrangements today."
"Were you going to tell me?" Joan whispered, blinking back fresh tears.
His heart aching to hear the sorrow in her voice, he nodded. "When I took you home tonight. How did you know?"
"Few people can just drop out of their lives for a week, let alone a month. It was only a matter of time. Besides, it keeps coming up." Letting her head fall back on his shoulder, she stared up at him with a sorrowful smile on her lips.
Tentatively, Adam lowered his mouth until it hovered just above hers. Joan threaded her fingers in his soft curls and closed the distance between their lips.
For all we know/
This may only be a dream/
Adam traced the seam of her mouth with the tip of his tongue. With a hushed moan, she parted her lips beneath his. His tongue swept in, reacquainting itself with her and all thought of tomorrow disappeared from Joan's mind.
We come and we go/
Like the ripples on a stream/
She turned in his arms and took his face in her hands.
So love me tonight/
Tomorrow was made for some/
Tomorrow may never come/
For all we know/
With supreme effort, Adam ended the kiss and rested his forehead against hers.
Tomorrow may never come/
For all we know/
"So," Joan swallowed and took a deep breath before continuing, "this is really good-bye."
Adam shook his head. "Saturday."
Joan didn't see what difference it made. They still hadn't had enough time together.
"I don't want to leave you."
With a bittersweet smile, she cupped his cheek in her hand and brushed a soft kiss on his lips. He'd said that to her before. "But you have to. You have a life to straighten out."
"We didn't straighten things out between us."
"But we know how feel. Now, we just have to figure out what we want and how we're going to get it."
Adam nodded, knowing she was right. He caressed her face lovingly before burying his hand in her hair. He kissed her once more. "It's getting late and you have work tomorrow. I should take you home."
Joan nodded and put her shoes back on while Adam doused the fire and blew out the candles. For a long moment, they stared at each other, recalling what they had been. Then Adam held out his hand. She took it and allowed him to pull her to her feet. Without a word, they left the house and got into Adam's car.
The drive was quiet. Now that she knew when he was leaving, she felt steadier. At least, she knew how much time they had left and, though it saddened her, she found a curious sense of peace in knowing. Adam grasped her hand and Joan squeezed his, gaining strength from the simple touch. Eventually, he pulled up to her building and walked her to her apartment.
"Can I take you to the airport?" she asked as she faced him at her front door.
"I'd like that."
"I'll pick you up at ten." They stood awkwardly for a moment, uncertain of how to proceed. "Everybody'll probably want to say good-bye before you go."
"I know."
"Maybe we could have a dinner tomorrow night."
Adam smiled at her valiant attempt to make this less painful for them. "That would be nice."
"So, I guess I'll see you at school tomorrow."
"Yeah." He wanted to say something more, something to make this easier.
Joan couldn't look at him any longer, seeing her heartache mirrored in his face. She took his face in her hands and gave him a brief, soft kiss good night, then fled into her apartment before he could say anything else. Once she made it to her room, she collapsed on the bed. So it was happening again. At least, this time wouldn't be as bad as last time.