Chapter Four: NYC, Friday, April 8, 2005

"I thought you didn't want to come tonight." It wasn't a question. Sarah had asked Matt weeks ago if he wanted to come tonight because while they were making a point to do things apart, to give each other space, this was a big deal. Bridget O'Donnell was a big deal. She hardly ever got over to this side of the Atlantic, and even when she did, she almost always appeared in big, sold out, impossible-to-get-tickets for places like Carnegie Hall. Sarah had no idea why she was reading at some little coffee shop tonight, but was more than happy to have the opportunity to see her for the price of a cup of coffee.

"Of course, I want to come," Matt responded, in direct contradiction to what he'd said the first time she asked. And the second. And the third. "Why wouldn't I want to come? I love spending time with my beautiful wife."

Sarah shot him a look.

Simon stepped out of the bedroom wearing a black turtleneck and pants Sarah knew for a fact hadn't been in his suitcase when he arrived. "What do you think? Is it too much? Not enough?"

"You look fine," Matt told him.

"You're sure it's not too much?"

Matt rolled his eyes; Sarah smiled. "You look terrific, Simon." It was sweet how much he cared about looking good tonight. He'd had such a horrible last few years. Annie had confided in Sarah how scared she was for Simon. He'd always been so smart, so sure of himself, but after the accident that claimed Paul Smith's life, it was like the light in Simon had gone out. It was more than just the sex he was having—more than Annie and Eric knew about, Sarah was sure. It was like he was wandering aimlessly through his own life the last couple of years, fervently denying he was off course. So yeah, Matt was right, an infatuation with a girl—a girl who was probably too young for Simon—might not be the best or brightest thing Simon could have right now, but there was no denying that something had come to life inside Simon again. He looked happier than Sarah had seen him in almost two years.

Not that Matt could see it.

She turned another withering glower on her husband. "You, however, need to put on a clean shirt. I don't want to be embarrassed by…whatever that is." She gestured at the T-shirt he was wearing.

"What's wrong with this?"

"Dude," Simon answered. "That thing could get up and walk on it's own."

Matt scowled. "Nobody asked you."

"That doesn't mean he's not right," said Sarah. "If you're coming with us, you need to get changed—and you don't need to change," she said to Simon. "I mean it. You look great in that."

Matt muttered something incomprehensible under his breath as he brushed passed Simon on his way to the bedroom and—hopefully—a change of both shirt and attitude.

….

Bridget O'Donnell's poetry reading was at some hippy-esque coffee shop in Greenwich Village that was packed to the gills with people. It looked like most of the tables had been cleared to make more space, but it really wasn't helping. Worse, Matt's hopes that this girl Simon was so infatuated with might not even show up were dashed almost the second they walked in the door. Caroline Chandler-Wells was impossible to miss, sitting up near the stage, wearing something that made her look like she belonged in some kind of Christmas/Dickens village, or maybe one of those period romances Sarah liked so much: Long black velvet skirt, black puffy-sleeved blouse with a high lacy collar, her hair pulled back with some kind of silver-and-pearl hair comb. Even he had to admit that she didn't look like a high school student. He had to admit that she was pretty. Somehow, admitting that to himself didn't make him feel any better.

"You okay?"

Matt started to answer, then realized Sarah was talking to Simon.

"Yeah. Fine," Simon responded. He looked like his knees had just turned to Jell-o.

"I'm going to go get a coffee, can I get you anything?" Sarah said to Simon. Just Simon, it seemed.

"No, thanks, I'm fine."

"Come on, my treat."

"Don't you mean our treat," Matt snapped.

"You know what? Matt is going to go get the coffees. Three of them. We," she hooked her arm into Simon's, "are going to go find a seat."

Matt heaved a sigh. There was no winning tonight. His only consolation was that Simon was only going to be with them for a couple of weeks. Then he was going home. To Glen Oak, which was three thousand miles away.

"You can bring me back a chocolate chip muffin," Sarah told him. "And get one for Simon, too."

"You guys really don't have to—" Simon began.

Matt ignored him and made his way over to the long, long, long line snaking through the front of the shop while Simon and Sarah went to find a place to sit. Or stand. Or whatever.

He knew he was being sour. And maybe it was dumb. Simon was going to do what Simon was going to do.

Just as long as he gets on that plane and goes home when he's supposed to….

….

Simon took another deep breath and let it out. Friends. He and Caroline were just friends. Barely friends.

So why did he feel such an intense pang of jealousy when a guy with dark, shaggy hair, wearing a black leather jacket, the kind that was full of spikes and chains, black jeans, and Doc Martin boots sat down next to Caroline. His nails were polished black and silver skulls dangled from his left ear. Unlike Simon, this guy belonged there. It was in the way he moved, the way he leaned in close to Caroline, to whisper something in her ear.

It was in the way she smiled back at him.

There was an intimacy there. A closeness.

"Did you see Caroline?" Sarah asked, as she and Simon squeezed their way into a corner off to the side of the make-shift stage.

"Yeah. I saw her."

"Well? Aren't you going to go over and say 'hi'? We both know she's the real reason you're here."

"Nah, it's fine," he lied. "And I really did want to come. I read most of that book she lent you. It was really cool." That part wasn't a lie.

I just wish Caroline had mentioned the part where she had a boyfriend.

Which was stupid. Caroline was fifteen. Nearly sixteen. But still. She lived in New York. He lived in Glen Oak. She went to a private school. Not on a scholarship. He had a nearly empty bank account. And even if none of that was true, the last thing he needed was a girlfriend right now….

Only… she was just a friend. Barely a friend.

Why did he have to keep reminding himself of that?

Or had he imagined the connection he'd felt, almost from the moment he met her?

But then Caroline looked over at Simon and smiled and for half a second, the rest of the world melted away, just like before. He smiled back—and the guy next to her leaned over to her and said something in her ear. Her cheeks tinted pink and the guy smirked. Before Caroline could respond—or Simon could go over and find out for himself exactly what the deal was—a young woman stepped up to the stage and the house lights dimmed.

"Good evening and welcome, everyone," she said into the microphone. "We are so pleased to see so many people here tonight, and so very pleased to have Mrs. O'Donnell with us."

A wave of applause rippled through the audience. At last, Matt found them and distributed the coffees and pastries. He looked harried and pissed.

On stage, the young woman continued speaking:

"To start off the evening, we have Caroline and Jake Chandler-Wells, playing a piece composed by Christopher Chandler-Wells."

Jake.

Chandler-Wells.

As in Caroline's brother Jake?

Across the room, Jake stood, shrugged out of his jacked and picked up…a flute?

Man, talk about not judging a book by it's cover! The guy still looked tough enough to spit out nails, even as he stepped onto the stage and did a quick warm up.

Caroline flashed another smile in Simon's direction as she picked a violin out of its case at her feet. She joined her brother on the stage and, with little ceremony, began to play. The melody was slow and haunting, and even though it started out as barely a whisper of sound, the entire room grew silent, so that the music was all Simon could hear…. No that wasn't quite true. He was aware of the beating of his own heart, the pulse of his blood, the sound of Sarah's breath next to him.

A few moments later, Jake added to the melody, harmonizing with her song in what Simon—not any kind of expert—thought had to be the lowest notes a flute could possibly go. The song was like…mist. Like echoes. Like snowfall. Listening to it was like watching the moon set slowly over the ocean, the last stars fading. It was like seeing the first rays of sun streaking gold and rose across the sky. The tempo increased…birds singing, welcoming the spring.

Then the song slowed again then softened to a bare whisper, as a woman joined them from the side of the stage. She was middle aged…maybe a little older, with long, curly auburn hair and warm brown eyes. Like Caroline, she wore a dress that looked like something out of a fairytale, and when she began to speak, her lilting Irish accent made her identity clear: Mrs. Bridget O'Donnell. She spun a tale of love, of hope, of loss…of joy, reciting from memory the story of a beautiful white owl-maid and her handsome protector, her lover strong and brave, their secret love, their stolen moments, their world shattered by an evil hunter who snared the owl-maid. Simon didn't miss the look on Caroline's face as she played, a soft, heartbreaking refrain while Bridget wove the story of a bold rescue led by the owl's lover, a noble crow, and an unlikely conglomerate of disparate allies. Her emotions were… palpable. It was stupid, Simon knew it was stupid, but he would have sworn he felt her heart beating from across the room.

Somewhere towards the end of the poem, Jake and Caroline's music faded to nothing, so the only sound left was Bridget's voice. "Even the greatest darkness is nothing, so long as we share the light."

There was a moment of silence where everyone in the audience seemed to suddenly remember that they should breathe, should applaud.

Bridget smiled broadly. "T'weren't hardly a thing, but thank you. And thank you," she reached behind her to draw Caroline and Jake forward again. "Truly. You've blessed us all with sweet playing this evening."

"The pleasure was ours." Jake kissed her hand.

Bridget's smile deepened. She exchanged a kiss on the cheek with Caroline, then the two of them resumed their seats and Bridget launched into her next poem—and Caroline wound her way gracefully through the crowd to the table where Simon sat with his brother and sister-in-law. "May I join you?"

"Yeah, yeah of course." Simon got up. "Here, take my chair."

"You don't have to—"

"What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't?"

"Oh brother," Matt groaned.

Sarah smacked his arm.

Simon held his chair out for Caroline. "That was beautiful playing," he whispered, trying not to disturb the people around them.

Caroline smiled up at him and without thinking too hard about what he was doing, Simon laid a hand on her shoulder. When she reached up to take it, he had to remind himself to breathe all over again. She twined her fingers into his. Her heart pulsed softly between them, and Simon felt simultaneously grounded, solid in his own skin, and like he was floating on air.

Bridget O'Donnell read a mix of poetry, mostly hers, but a few favorites by Byron and Shelly, Rilke—including that one Caroline had recited from memory the other day—and Burns. She ended by reading one of the shorter stories from her book of Faerie Tales, then thanked everyone for their kind reception before retiring to the table that had been set up so she could sign copies of her books. The best part, however, was that Caroline kept her fingers lightly intertwined with the entire time. He caught Matt scowling at him a few times—Sarah smiling—but chose to ignore them. Friends could hold hands, couldn't they? And anyway, wasn't Kevin five years older than Lucy? Which was nothing compared to the time Mary brought home that guy twice her age.

The houselights came back on, music—something Irish sounding, Simon thought—piped through the speakers, and people began to mill around, getting more coffee, going to stand in line, talking amongst themselves. Caroline let go of his hand and stood up, and maybe that should have made Simon feel disappointed, but then she smiled at him. "I promised Sarah I'd introduce her to Bridget. Do you want to come with us?"

"Nah, that's okay. You three go up." He nodded at Matt, who he was pretty sure had no intention of going up, but it seemed like a good way to ditch his older brother for a few minutes so he could get some peace away from Matt's dark glower.

"You sure?" Sarah asked, as she reached for Matt's hand. Matt looked as unamused as Simon had expected.

"I'll just hang here and get another cup of coffee or something," Simon said. He flashed a warm, shy smile at Caroline. "Come and say 'bye' before you leave?"

"Of course."

He watched them head up, then took his place at the back of the line for the barista.

"So," said a voice behind him. Simon didn't have to turn to know it was Caroline's brother—but since it would be rude not to turn around, he did.

"Hi."

"Hi, yourself." Jake eyed him up one side and down the other. He was almost as tall as Matt and as buffed out as Lucy's husband Kevin. He held out his hand, and Simon accepted. "Jake Chandler-Wells."

"Simon Camden."

"I know." Jake's grip was firm. Simon had no doubt the guy could wipe the floor with him if he wanted to. "Caroline says you're a friend of someone from the hospital where she volunteers?"

"Sarah Glass Camden's. My brother Matt is Sarah's husband. They're both med students."

"Sarah's about the only one there who was ever nice to Care."

Simon nodded; Caroline had told him how most of the staff at St. Vincent's didn't take her seriously. He placed his order. "Can I buy you a cup of coffee?"

Jake smirked. "Sure, why not?" He gave the barista his order, thankfully something simple and not too expensive. Simon wasn't surprised when Jake followed him back to the table. "I gather you're just visiting?"

"Yeah. I live in Glen Oak. California."

"Is that anywhere near San Francisco? We've got an uncle who lives out that way."

"It's something like a six-hour drive, I think."

Jake nodded. He drank his coffee.

"You two were really amazing up there," Simon told him the truth, even if he only said it to fill in what had become an incredibly awkward silence.

Jake's amused, lop-sided smile surprised him. "Caroline's the one with the talent. I only sounded good because our brother composed the piece for us, and he knows where my strengths are as a musician and where I suck ass."

Simon laughed. "Is he here? The brother who wrote the piece."

"Chris doesn't like crowds, much." He laughed a little, as if at some private joke. "He's named—sort of—after some artist Mom and Dad met once. They'll say he's not. They even spelled his name different. But we all know the truth. That Kristopher didn't like crows much either."

"I… ah… I never learned how to play an instrument. Or paint."

"We all had to take music lessons. Caroline and Christopher were the two that stuck with it the longest. Chris plays…he plays just about everything under the sun. Care stuck with the violin. I only blow the dust off my flute for special occasions anymore." He leaned in a little and lowered his voice. "Don't take this the wrong way, Simon, because you seem like a pretty okay kinda guy, all things considered. But my sister's never had anybody who was interested in her the way I'm pretty sure you are, so don't be a jerk to her, okay?"

Simon blinked. Did that mean…what had Caroline said…?

Jake shrugged. "I know you're going home in a couple of weeks, so it's not like it's going anywhere or anything, but while you're here, don't be a jerk, and when you leave, don't make promises you don't intend to keep. I know what guys are like and what we'd say or do to get what we want—not that she can't take care of herself. But I don't want you or anybody else hurting her. Emotionally—because believe me when I say that if you try anything, she won't need me to come and kick your ass. She'll do it all on her own."

"I…." He glanced up at Caroline. They were finally at the front of the line. Something in Jake's threat rang true, even if it didn't look like she could kick anybody's ass. "I'm sure I'm sure I'd feel the same way if some guy was…was interested in my little sister." Ruthie was practically the same age as Caroline.

"Then it sounds like we understand each other." He got to his feet just as Caroline, Matt, and Sarah returned. "See ya later, sis." He waved good-bye to Caroline.

"Where do you think you're going?" she wanted to know.

"It's Friday night. Where do you think?"

"Not by yourself you're not. Or do you think I forgot what happened last week?"

"That other guy started it. Even Kate said so."

Caroline continued to glare.

Jake shrugged. "If you want to come, that's up to you." He glanced back at Simon and flashed another lopsided grin. Simon didn't like it. "Maybe your new…friend…would like to come along, too. Hey, Simon, what d'you say? Ever been to a real goth club before?"

"Um…." Simon glanced from Jake to Caroline and back again.

"I don't think that's such a good idea," said Matt. His tone—over-protective and patronizing—made Simon want to go out of spite, even if he happened to agree.

"You only have to be eighteen to get in," Jake assured him. "Or know the bouncer." He winked.

"Simon—" Matt began.

"Last time I checked, I was over eighteen," he snapped.

"Don't let my brother strong arm you into something you're not into." Caroline laid her hand on his arm, even as she turned to level a dark look at her brother. "But rest assured, Jacob Elliot, I am coming with you because someone has to keep you out of trouble."

Jake snorted, clearly amused. For his part, Simon was concerned, because how was someone like Caroline supposed to keep this guy out of trouble? She might be able to handle herself if someone like him tried something stupid—even Lucy knew where to kick a guy to make it count—but…. But nothing. "I'd love to go with you guys," he said with far mor bravado than he felt.

Jake flashed an approving grin and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Simon are you sure about this?" Sarah asked.

No. What he really wanted was to take Caroline out for coffee or even for a late dinner, but her expression made it clear: she wasn't letting Jake go wherever he wanted to go without her. "I'm sure it's fine," he told his sister in law.

"I'll keep them both out of trouble," Caroline promised Sarah.

Matt didn't look convinced. Simon didn't feel convinced. Sarah handed over her key. "Try not to be too late, okay?" she asked.

Simon nodded. He waited while Matt glowered and Caroline and Jake went to collect their instruments, his jacket and a black shawl laid across the back of Caroline's chair, and say a last quick good-bye to Bridget O'Donnell. Bridget's gaze flicked over Simon, causing heat to rise in his cheeks—it only got worse when she gave him a mischievous little smile. He wasn't the only one; Caroline blushed deep pink. Jake laughed.

"This is a bad idea, Simon," Matt hissed. "I don't like that guy. And don't you remember that stupid party you went to back in high school?"

Simon bristled. "That was…three years ago? Four? Come on." Wasn't anyone ever going to let him live down anything?

"Matt," said Sarah, her tone firm. "Simon is right. He's over eighteen. He's an adult. He can do whatever he wants. Just be careful," she added in Simon's direction.

"I will. I promise."

"You ready?" said Jake, as he and Caroline re-joined them. He was still laughing.

Still not entirely sure he wasn't making (another) colossal mistake, Simon nodded and followed Jake and Caroline out the door. She slowed a little, to fall into step with Simon, and slide her arm into his. "You really don't have to come if you don't want to."

"It's okay. Matt just…he worries too much."

"That means he loves you."

"I know."

"Full moon tonight," Jake observed, seemingly out of the blue. He turned and eyed Simon. "Hunter's moon."

"Jacob," Caroline's tone was one of warning.

"Just making conversation. Lighten up."

"Maybe if you were a little less light," she shot back, "you wouldn't get into so much trouble."

"The other guy really did throw the first punch. Or don't you believe Kate?"

"I believe her just fine. She, however, isn't the one I'm concerned about. It's not just me, you know. It's Father. Grandfather."

"You all worry too much." Jake led the way down into the subway station. He used his subway pass to swipe himself through the subway turnstile, then swiped it again and motioned for Simon to come through, before Caroline followed with her own pass.

"Thanks," Simon told him.

Jake shrugged. "I invited you. But I should warn you now, the place is in a pretty tough neighborhood. Don't go wandering around on your own once we get there."

"Yeah, okay." He glanced down at Caroline again. He wanted to think she was holding onto him because she was scared—or at least nervous, despite her bravado at the coffee shop—but he couldn't shake the feeling that she was the one protecting him, just like she'd promised Sarah she would.

He followed Jake onto the subway car, glad it was barely half-full, so they could sit three abreast on one of the long benches near the door.

Jake pulled a weathered paperback copy of Great Expectations out of the inner pocket of his jacket, yet another thing that surprised Simon, because no way was that a library book. It didn't look to Simon that it was something Jake had to read for class, either, not with the way he seemed to become immediately engrossed in the words on the page.

Caroline smiled up at Simon and leaned against him, like she had in the park. And just like yesterday and tonight at the reading, her presence was warm. Comforting.

Grounding.

Warm.

Simon slid one arm around her shoulders and just like the other night and a profound contentedness settled over him, leaving no room for anything else. It was beyond stupid to think he could fall in love with her—and in any case, whatever this was, it felt…different. Deeper.

More important.