Chapter Two: NYC, Tuesday, April 5, 2005

Was it possible for someone to be even prettier than you remembered them? And how was it the whole world seemed to just…just stop, dead in it's tracks, when Caroline walked into the hospital's main reception area and smile at him?

Simon swiped his hands down the front of his jeans—jeans he'd washed last night because they were the only decent pair he'd brought with him, since he was only going to be here for a few weeks and at most do a little sightseeing. More likely, he'd spend most of his vacation stuck in Matt and Sarah's apartment, because the intricacies of the New York public transit system continued to baffle him. He could manage to find his way to a few places, at least the ones that only involved a few train changes, but for the most part, he was stuck.

"I wasn't sure you'd really stop by today," Caroline said by way of greeting. A gentle blush of pink rose in her cheeks. "But I'm glad you did."

"Me too. I mean…I'm glad you're here. I know you said you would be, but…. I mean… How about that coffee I promised you?" he asked, before both feet ended up in his mouth.

"Could you make it a cup of tea, instead?"

"Yeah, sure." Impulsively, he crooked his arm and without missing a beat, Caroline slid her arm into his, causing a fresh rush of warm flutters to go cascading through his stomach.

Caroline was shorter than Cecelia. Heck, she wasn't much taller than Ruthie. She had on a skirt again today; it full and flowy and went down nearly to her ankles. Her sweater was loose and the white blouse under it was way more modest than most of the stuff Mary or Lucy wore. Not that there was anything wrong with the way his sisters dressed, it was just that most of the girls he'd dated had dressed the same way and…and it wasn't like this was any kind of date. It was coffee. Tea. At a hospital. In New York. Three thousand miles away from Glen Oak. And why did his knees feel so wobbly?

"Your hair looks really pretty today," Simon told her. Her long curls were pulled back into a loose knot that was held in place with a pair of shell-inlaid sticks. "I mean…it was pretty yesterday, but it looks really nice up." Was that stupid to say? Worse, would she think he was trying to tell her how she should wear her hair or something?

But Caroline chuckled. It was a sweet sound. "It's something of a loosing battle, but it was worth it, if you like it."

"I do."

She brushed a few loose coils of hair behind one ear and smiled up at him. He'd been promising himself all day he wasn't going to go and do something stupid. He was only in town for a couple of weeks, and he was supposed to be clearing his head. But why couldn't he clear it here as easily as at Matt and Sarah's place? They arrived at the cafeteria and took their place in line at the coffee and hot water dispenser.

"So…um, I don't think I've ever met another Caroline before," Simon said, feeling totally lame. At least he managed to pour a cup of hot water for her, then a cup of awful smelling coffee for himself, without making a spectacular mess.

"It was my grandmother's name. My mother's mother."

"I'm not named after anybody. I mean… not really. Maybe Simon in the Bible. That's kind of a family joke. Or maybe not really a joke, exactly. There are all kinds of names in the Bible, but I think people just assume that most of us are named after people in the Bible, even my sister Ruthie, whose really named after our Grandma Ruth. My dad's a minister." Maybe he should stop talking.

"Isn't Sarah's father a Rabbi?"

"Yeah. It ah…it was a pretty interesting wedding."

Her smile deepened. "I can imagine. My mother's an attorney. She works in the D.A.'s office. Her dad was a lawyer, too. Grandfather—Father's Father—is a doctor."

"Here?"

"No. He…he's been retired for a long time."

"What about your dad?" Simon asked, as they made their way up to the cashier. "Do you want anything else besides the tea?" he added.

"No, thank you. My father… stays at home. I guess that probably seems weird."

"Why would it?" Simon paid for her tea, his coffee, and let Caroline steer them towards an almost-quiet corner of the cafeteria. "My sister's husband just quit his job so he could stay home with their baby. He loves being a stay-at-home parent."

"A lot of people think it's weird when a father stays home while a mother goes to work."

Simon shrugged. "A lot of people thought it was weird—or backwards or something—that my mom stayed home—except for a brief period when she taught at my little sister's private school—ex-private school. Ruthie quit after the school refused admit a Muslim girl, because a bunch of parents made angry phone calls."

"Grandfather says people fear what they don't understand and hate what they fear. It's sad. And wrong."

"My dad said something similar. I guess it's easier for people to be afraid of something—someone—than to take the time to learn about them." Whatever he'd said—whatever exactly it was—Simon knew it was exactly the right thing by the way she smiled. That smile made everything else in the world seem a little less important. He swallowed back the lump in his throat and continued. "For the record, I don't think it's weird that your father stays home while your mom goes to work. Whose business is it anyway, except theirs? If it works for them, that's all that matters." Her smile deepened and for a few moments, even the mistakes of the last few years didn't seem to matter anymore.

"So, is it just you, Matt, and your sister Ruthie after Grandma Ruth, not Ruth-from-the-Bible-Ruth?" Caroline asked.

Simon found himself grinning. "Not by a long shot. Matt's the oldest. Then it's Mary, Lucy, me, Ruthie, and the twins, Sam and David." That, more than Mom being one of the few stay-at-home moms amongst his friends' parents, garnered weird looks from people.

"I'm the second oldest of six. Jacob—or Jake as he prefers these days—is the oldest. Then it's me, Charles and Christopher—twins—then Beth, short for Elizabeth, and Janelle, which isn't short for anything. Jake is named for our Grandfather—Father's Father—Jacob. Charles is named after my mother's father. We're not quite sure about Christopher, but Mother and Father always smile when we ask. Beth is named after a dear friend, although it's actually her middle name. Mary said it would be too confusing with a second Mary running around—or more like a third or fourth, because it's such a common name—which is probably way more than you care about." She blushed.

"No. I mean…I think it's interesting. "What about Janelle?"

"None of us are sure where Mother and Father got Janelle. Sometimes she's upset that she's not named after anyone, other times she feels 'extra special' because she has a name that's all hers. She's just turned seven."

Simon laughed. "I remember when Ruthie was that age."

Caroline shifted in her seat and glanced at the wall—probably the clock—behind Simon's head.

"So, ah…you and your brothers and sisters, are you close?" Simon asked, trying to figure out what he'd said or done that made her fidget like that.

"Can I ask you something?" she said, rather than answering.

"Sure, anything!" Great. That hadn't come out over-eager sounding at all. "I mean, yes, of course you can ask me something. Anything you like." Maybe Matt had said something to her about his past? Or Sarah. Maybe Caroline wanted to know how many women he'd slept with, or—

"How old do you think I am?"

Simon frowned. That was possibly the last thing he'd expected. "Sarah mentioned you were in high school." Simon had pried it out of her last night—while trying (and failing) to sound like he wasn't prying. "So…maybe seventeen or eighteen?"

Caroline's tea suddenly seemed to capture her interest as if it was the most fascinating thing she'd ever seen.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm younger than I look."

"Hey, I'm only nineteen. Barely nineteen. My birthday was last month."

"Happy belated birthday."

"Thanks." He hadn't meant for that to come out so flat sounding.

Caroline tilted her head in silent inquiry.

"It's just…it hasn't been a very good couple of years." Great. Now he sounded like some kind of looser.

If the shoe fits….

But Caroline's smile didn't look like pity, and when she reached across the table and laid her hand over his, Simon was sure he could feel her heart beating through her fingertips. Or maybe it was his heart. He was too afraid to do more than rub his thumb over the underside of her hand in acknowledgement of the touch. Her smile deepened, and Simon found his voice again, at last. "I ah…you said you volunteered Tuesday and Wednesday, and I know you've got that poetry thing with Sarah on Friday. Does that mean you…um…maybe…you're free to have dinner or something on Thursday? Nothing fancy," he added quickly. "This is probably the best shirt I brought with me." Simon gave over a little laugh.

Caroline laughed, too—but it wasn't mean or mocking. "I don't like 'fancy', anyway."

"Was that a yes?"

She nodded. "That was a yes. Do you think you can find your way to Central Park? I know people from out of town sometimes find the transit system a bit overwhelming."

"That's an understatement. But I think I can manage the park."

"Then meet me outside the MET, say around 4:30? I know that's a little early for dinner—"

"No, that's fine. I mean, I'm not really doing anything anyway. Matt and Sarah are at work and in class all day Thursday, anyway. Four-thirty is perfect."

She flashed another sweet smile. "I'll see you tomorrow." She gave his hand a gentle squeeze and stood up. "I have to get back to work. I know it's only a volunteer position—"

"No, it's important. It's right to treat it like a real job, even if you're not getting paid."

Caroline's smile made him sure he'd said the right thing again, which made him question his sanity, but he couldn't help it. When she met his gaze, when she smiled at him like that, it was hard not to look forward to seeing her again.

"Are you out of your mind?" Matt demanded, when Simon got home and told him about having a date. A date! Simon was clearly out of his mind.

"It's dinner. At 4:30." Simon sounded defensive.

"Didn't you just get out of a relationship?"

"It's not 'a relationship'. It's dinner."

"Which sounds an awful lot like a date and dates lead to relationship and relationships lead to nothing but trouble!" Matt reminded him.

Sarah poked her head out of their bedroom door. "Really, now?"

Matt heaved an exasperated sigh. It had been a long day. Every day was a long day, which was why he hadn't wanted to play babysitter to his brother for a couple of weeks. But the way Mom sounded when she called…. He couldn't say no. He turned to his wife. "Who is this girl, anyway? You know her."

"I don't 'know' her." Sarah sounded as exasperated as he felt, although Matt had the sneaking suspicion it was for different reasons. Reasons named Matt Camden. "Me and Caroline talk sometimes. When she saw me reading a book of Bridget O'Donnell's poetry, she asked if I was going to the reading this week and offered to lend me a book."

That book. It had all started with that book, because if Caroline hadn't promised to lend Sarah that book, she would have had no reason to come over and talk to him and Simon, and if she hadn't…. "When did you get so interested in poetry, anyway?"

"I've always liked poetry, Matt."

"Oh."

"Look if you guys are done arguing—" Simon began.

"We're not arguing!" Matt snapped.

"Whatever. I need to get some sleep. And don't you two have early classes tomorrow or something?"

"Yes." Sarah glared at Matt. "We do."

"We're not done talking about this," Matt warned Simon.

"There's nothing to talk about." Simon settled onto the sofa with that book. The book that had started it all, the book Matt had the irrational urge to throw out the nearest window.