Chapter Eight: Monday, April 11, 2005; New York
Simon took a nervous breath and let it out. He stood outside the Manhattan District Attorney's office building, waiting for Caroline because her mother wanted to meet him. He really wished he'd packed more than jeans and T-shirts for this trip. But his shirt—a sweater from Matt's closet—was clean and he'd stopped at a flower shop to pick up a small bouquet of pink carnations for Mrs. Chandler-Wells, and a single pink rose for Caroline. Now he was afraid it was too much…or not enough. Could it be both too much and not enough at the same time?
Simon hadn't expected Caroline to meet him on Saturday, even if it was just to get some lunch and then go with her to the library so she could work on a paper for school. He'd expected her to be grounded for life. He would have been.
Or Ruthie.
Mom and Dad would kill Ruthie if she stayed out all night with some guy they'd never met, a guy three years older than her. And seriously, he should see a little sister when he looked at Caroline. Ruthie only a year younger.
But when Simon looked at Caroline, all he saw was possibility. He couldn't even say for what, but something about her made him believe it was possible to get past the last two years, to get his life together. He felt… hope. For the first time in a long time, he felt like there was hope for him, his life, his future. He knew it was stupid. Worse than stupid. It was reckless and irresponsible. It wasn't just the age difference. In a few years that wouldn't matter.
It matters now, the little voice inside his head reminded him.
The little voice was right. But in less than two weeks, he was going home to California. He wasn't coming back East anytime soon. He certainly wasn't moving here.
As if Mom and Dad would let me.
Dad had called him Saturday afternoon. Lucy had called him Saturday night. Mom had called on Sunday, after church. Kevin called him Sunday afternoon—then again on Sunday night because Simon hadn't picked up the first time because he was at the library with Caroline. Ruthie called somewhere in between Kevin's two calls; he hadn't picked up her call either. He hadn't called her back yet, so he was sure she would be calling again, some time tonight.
None of them had mentioned Caroline, but Simon knew his brother. Matt had called Mom or Dad.
Or both.
What Simon hadn't expected was the he got just as he was leaving Matt and Sarah's apartment this afternoon. Maybe he should have. Mom and Mrs. Glass were friends.
Or maybe Sarah called her.
Sarah seemed mostly on Simon's side, but maybe she wasn't on his side, at all. Maybe she agreed with everyone else that he was nothing but a failure. Mrs. Glass hadn't said a word about Caroline, but Rabbi Glass had hollered from the background that there were some nice girls around Simon's at the synagogue, and after all, it worked out so well for Matt that maybe Simon should consider meeting a nice Jewish girl, too. Mrs. Glass had shushed him and asked Simon how he was enjoying New York and if he was looking forward to coming home and getting back into school in January.
Simon had made no such plans, although his parents kept acting as if he had.
He'd managed to push school and life and all of his mistakes out of his head on Saturday. On Saturday, it was just him and Caroline. She had some studying to do, so after lunch, they went to the library where he did his best to stay out of her way so she could read up on the eleventh century Norman conquest of England. He wasn't very good at staying out of the way. He hadn't bugged her or anything, but he wasn't used to being in a library without any of his own studying to do. Finally, in frustration, Caroline got up, got a book off the shelves, and handed it to him, to read.
Great Expectations.
Simon had liked it so much that he'd asked her if she would mind checking it out for him, so he could finish it later. He'd promised to return it before he left and to take good care of it so she wouldn't get fined or anything—but she'd said she could do better than borrowing it from the library. She took him to a used bookstore, "just a short walk" (almost half an hour) away in Greenwich Village and bought him a copy, despite his insistence that he could buy it himself. He found she was hard to argue with when she set her mind to something; he liked that about her. It wasn't stubbornness so much as steadfastness.
Caroline told him that Great Expectations was the first book her parents had read together, not at the same time, as a class assignment or something—Simon still wasn't sure how her folks had met—but to each other. When Simon hadn't been able to do anything but give her a confused look, Caroline steered them to Washington Square Park, found a quiet spot under a tree, and started reading to him, from where he'd left off at the library. After a while, they got a couple of hot dogs and some ice cream from a couple of food trucks and Simon took over, reading to her while she finished her ice cream.
It was, by far, the most extraordinary, wonderful, amazing date he'd even been on, even if really, it wasn't a date at all, and that should terrify him, but somehow, it didn't.
"Penny for your thoughts?"
Simon jumped at the sound of Caroline's voice. He hadn't heard her sneak up on him, even if she hadn't really "snuck". She was standing there next to him in her school uniform, smiling. He grinned back. "I'd probably owe you change," he said.
"Don't sell yourself so short. Did you have any trouble finding it?"
"No." It wasn't quite a lie, but the guy at the information booth in the subway station had been really helpful. "I…um…this is for you," he said, feeling more awkward and more foolish than ever as he handed her the single pink rose.
Caroline's smile and the blush in her cheeks helped—until he remembered that he still had to face her mother.
"I…um…I got these for your mom…I hope…I mean…."
"That was very thoughtful of you," said a new voice. It had come from a woman who, when Simon turned to look at her, he realized could only be Caroline's mother. They had the same face, the same smile. Mrs. Chandler-Wells had brown eyes, not blue, brown hair streaked with silver, not strawberry blonde, and even though it was pulled back, it seemed mostly straight, not curly—but the warmth she exuded, the radiance of her face. Simon immediately knew exactly where Caroline got the things he admired the most about her.
"I…it's a pleasure to meet you, Ma'am." He held out his hand.
Catherine Chandler-Wells accepted, her smile broadening. "The pleasure is all mine, Simon. And please, call me Cathy."
The man walking next to her—a guy about the same age, with graying dark hair wearing a suit and tie—grinned. "Better watch out, Radcliff. The ones who start out with flowers and 'ma'am' who end up being the most trouble."
She chuckled and Caroline blushed. Simon felt embarrassed, like maybe the flowers had been a bad idea.
"This is Joe Maxwell," Cathy introduced them. "Joe, Simon Camden."
"You can call me Mr. Maxwell—or District Attorney Maxwell."
"Joe!" Cathy chided.
Simon extended his hand. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Maxwell." Caroline had mentioned her 'Uncle Joe'. He'd expected the ambush.
Mr. Maxwell had a firm, but reasonably friendly grip. "I hope you realize you have a lot of people keeping their eye on you."
"Yes, sir, I do."
"And you," Mr. Maxwell leveled a stern look at Caroline—then he sighed and opened out his arms for a hug. "You had better not spend another night out until dawn, even if it is to keep your brother out of trouble. Jake can take care of himself."
"It's not Jake I was worried about," Caroline told him. "It was everybody else."
"Yeah, I know." Joe Maxwell gave her a last tight squeeze and let her go.
"I'll see you in the morning," Cathy said to him.
He leaned in and gave her a peck on the cheek. "I love you, you know. Both of you." He smiled at Caroline, then turned back to Cathy. "Give that husband of yours a hug for me."
"I will," Cathy promised.
"I love you, Uncle Joe," Caroline added. Then she slid her arm into Simon's and suddenly he felt like he was walking on air.
Or eggshells.
Or broken glass.
"Simon, do you like Chinese food?" Cathy asked.
"Yes, Ma'am. I mean, Cathy." Heat rose in his cheeks. He'd never called any of his girlfriend's parents by their first name—not that Caroline was his girlfriend. She was just a friend who happened to be a girl. But heck, he didn't call any of his friends' parents by their first names either and both Robbie, who'd lived with his family for two years, and Martin who'd been there almost as long, still called Simon's parents Reverend and Mrs. Camden. His parents were like that. Old fashioned. Polite. "Chinese is great."
"Do we really have to eat at Henry and Lin's?" Caroline didn't sound happy.
"It's right around the corner and it's been a while since they've seen you."
Caroline slumped. "I'm sorry, Simon. I should have warned you. I don't just have a large family, I have a large extended family as well."
"There's nothing to apologize for," he told her. "I have one of those, too, remember? I'm sure my parents would be doing the exact same thing if we were in Glen Oak."
"Tell me a about your family," Cathy invited. "Caroline says your father is a minister?"
Simon found himself smiling, despite the nervous butterflies and his current irritation with the entire extended Camden clan. "He is. And my sister Lucy—she's the third oldest—just graduated from Seminary in December. She's the new assistant pastor at our church."
"I went to work for my father's law firm after getting out of law school. While I imagine the professions are very different, it must still be a little intimidating for your sister to be working so closely with her father."
"Especially her first sermon," Simon agreed. "She hasn't had to marry anyone yet or anything, but she's started a teen empowerment class." He regretted saying as soon as the words were out of his mouth, because of course if it weren't for him dating Georgia, that might not have happened, even if Lucy did seem to be really doing a great job. "How did you go from private practice to working in the district attorney's office?"
"I realized I needed to make some changes in my life. I hadn't liked who I was for a while. Corporate law is financially rewarding, but not very fulfilling, at least not the kind of work I was doing for my father. That likely has more to do with me than it did with him. I wasn't what anyone would have called the most responsible person," she answered Simon's inquisitive look. "My father used to tease me that I put the 'fashion' in fashionably late."
Simon laughed. "Lucy used to be like that. Now Ruthie is. She was the youngest until the twins came along." It was quickly becoming apparent that Caroline got her since of distance from her mother, because so far, they'd rounded two corners and there was still no Chinese restaurant in sight.
"My life changed in so many ways when I met Vincent." Cathy looked over at her daughter and smiled, her expression full of radiant warmth. "Much to my father's dismay, I quit the firm and went to work for Joe, back when he was still a deputy DA." Her tone told Simon her father must have taken the news about as well as his parents were taking his decisions, lately.
"Did he ever accept your choices?" Simon wondered.
"Eventually, when he saw how happy I was. He never got to meet Vincent, but I know my father would have loved him because he loved me. And he liked the person I became—it was just the becoming that was a bit rocky at first."
Simon mirrored her smile. "I think my family has too many of us changing all at once." As they walked, he outlined Matt's engagement to Sarah on their first date, his conversion to Judaism and how hard both their father and Sarah's had tried to stop the wedding. "But then when Dad was sick—he had a heart attack. He's fine now. But when he was recovering, Rabbi Glass filled in for him at the church."
"Those must have been interesting sermons." Cathy seemed to be trying not to laugh.
Simon nodded. He didn't think it was fair to go into detail about Mary, any more than it would have been fair to tell her how Matt and Sarah almost split up last summer, but he told Cathy that Mary had gone to London without her husband and son, and how his parents weren't coping well with that.
Cathy told him how her husband's brother had left home when he was a young man, how it had devastated their father, but that in his own time, Devin had come home. "I'm sure your sister will too," she concluded.
"I hope so."
He told her about how Robbie had come to live with them, and then later Martin, and as he talked, he wondered how his parents did it. It wasn't just Robbie and Martin. It was Carlos, who was Mary's husband now, but once he'd been the homeless guy she brought home on a whim. It was Ruthie's first boyfriend, Peter, and his parents. It was Lucy's husband Kevin and his brother Ben, who also happened to be Mary's ex-boyfriend. It was Wilson, Mary's other ex-boyfriend, who had recently moved back to Glen Oak. It was everyone his mom and dad had ever helped, because somehow, the found the time and the strength to help everybody.
By the time they arrived at the China Moon restaurant, Simon had given Caroline's mother a brief description of ever member of his great big crazy family—all, that was, except for himself.
He hesitated at the door. "I don't know if Caroline has told you too much about me." He couldn't meet her gaze as he asked.
"Only that you're a considerate and kindhearted young man."
"I ah…" Heat crept into Simon's cheeks. He was selfish and pigheaded. Arrogant.
Stupid.
"Why don't we talk over dinner?" Cathy suggested.
Caroline squeezed his hand and Simon nodded. He held the door for them, the way his parents had taught him, and stood back while Caroline and her mother were greeted with a warm smile and familiar embrace by the hostess, who was also apparently one of the owners, as she was introduced to him as Lin Pei.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Pei," he said, hoping he was right to assume she was a "missus".
"Call me Lin, please. Come on, let me get you three settled into a table."
Like all of the restaurants Simon had been inside of in New York, the China Moon was small, seating no more than fifty or sixty people at once, although at the moment, they were the only customers. It was decorated like most Chinese restaurants Simon had been in, in red and gold, with an abundance of dragons, paper lanterns, and lacquered wood. The walls were painted murals.
Simon held Cathy's chair for her, and then Caroline's. He didn't miss the look of approval Lin shot Cathy. He also didn't miss the fact that she hadn't brought over menus with her.
"Tell me what you like, Simon," she said instead.
"Um…I usually order kung pao chicken…?"
"Sounds good. I'll bring you three some tea and let Henry know you're here." She took her leave, and Simon had no real choice but to launch into his life's greatest hits, otherwise known as Simon's failures, with Caroline's mother.
He paused briefly when Lin brought out a pot of tea, a big plate of fried tempura vegetables, and soup for everyone. She seemed to sense there was something going on besides light dinner conversation, and made herself politely scarce again, after asking if they needed anything else. Simon ate because it was polite, but he didn't taste anything, and by the time the main course arrived, he'd covered enough of the basics that any other mother, even his own, who was one of the most patient and understanding women on the face of the planet, would have asked for the check, grabbed her daughter, and left him sitting there in front of a mountain of Chinese food. He'd left out the part about the STD—although he'd told that to Caroline, yesterday because wanted, needed to be completely honest with her—but he told Cathy about Georgia and the fake pregnancy scare. She could piece together for herself that he hadn't been "Virgin Camden" for a very long time.
He told her about Paul Smith, about leaving high school early, going away to school, landing himself on disciplinary probation. He told her about screwing up on his midterms so badly he'd withdrawn rather than flunk out. The whole time he talked, Cathy just…listened. Really listened, exactly the same way Caroline had. He didn't get the sense that she was judging him or…or anything. Why couldn't his own parents listen to him like this?
"I know I ran away from high school so I wouldn't have to face my problems. And I know I…the whole big mess with Georgia, which please believe me when I tell you I know it was a mistake, it was me running away again. And mid-terms…." He shook his head. "Maybe I wanted to fail. Maybe I wanted to come home, I just wasn't ready to admit it to myself. For two years I've been telling myself that I'm fine. I'm not fine. I killed somebody."
Why hadn't she grabbed Caroline and left him sitting there? Alone. He deserved to be alone. He deserved—
Cathy reached across the table and laid her hand on his arm, and he braced himself for the usual platitudes. "I can't imagine the heartache you must be suffering, Simon," she said, instead, her tone filled with nothing but kindness. "Has Caroline told you that her Uncle Fin is a police officer?"
"And Aunt Diana is a private investigator," Caroline added. She'd taken hold of Simon's hand, under the table, and was holding it tight.
"They've both had to fire in the line of duty," Cathy told him. "And so have I."
"But you're a lawyer." Lawyers didn't shoot people. Did they?
"I started out as an investigator for the DA's office. There were a few situations where things got dangerous."
"But that was kill or be killed, right?" he asked her.
"I know it's not the same. In many ways, I'm sure what happened to you—what you did—must feel worse. You will never be the person you were before that day. The person who might have been, the man you might have become is gone forever. There's no shame in mourning that loss just as much as mourn the loss of the young man whose life you took." She gave his arm a gentle squeeze. It wasn't sympathy or understanding, even though it felt like she did understand. It was…compassion. The kind without strings or expectations attached. "All you can do is move forward."
"She's right," said a male voice behind them.
Simon started—but Cathy was smiling. "Henry. Sit down, please, and eat with us. You made entirely too much food, as usual."
He chuckled. Like Lin, he was middle aged, Chinese—or at least Simon assumed he must be Chinese. He favored Simon with a warm smile. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop," he apologized.
"It's okay." Simon shrugged. What difference did it make how many of Caroline's friends and extended family knew?
Henry took a seat at their table. "I took a life too, once. It was an accident. In all fairness, I think he would have killed me, if I hadn't killed him, but all I was really trying to do was get away. Somehow, I managed to wrench his hand backwards and the knife he'd intended to use on me got used on him, instead."
Simon gawped. He didn't mean to, but he couldn't quite wrap his head around…. It was bad enough, him in his car, Paul on his bike, an ambulance arriving…. But…. Stabbing a guy? "What…what happened? If you don't mind me asking."
"I brought it up. It's a long story. But the point is that I didn't wake up that morning intending to do anything but meet with Lin, run away with her, get married."
Lin came up behind his chair and put both hands on his shoulders. She smiled a kind, warm smile. "My grandfather had arranged a marriage for me that I didn't want. I know this is America, but here, in Chinatown, things are still different. The man he wanted me to marry…he wasn't a good person. He didn't love me, but his father wanted the marriage, so he was determined to do whatever he had to, to force my hand."
"So went after you?" Simon asked Henry.
"Yes. I'd never been in a fight before, besides a little horseplay with my cousins. It all happened so fast. It didn't hit me right away what I'd done, but later…later I ended up talking to someone."
"My dad tried to get me to see his therapist, but it was a little too weird."
"I can imagine," Cathy told him.
"Maybe I'll try again, with someone else, when I get home."
She nodded.
"Well," said Henry. "I didn't mean to interrupt or spoil your meal."
"Nonsense," Cathy told him.
"Yeah, really," said Simon. "I…I appreciate…I think more than anything I've felt like nobody understands. Nobody in my family has ever done anything like what I did except maybe the Colonel. My dad's dad. He's a retired Marine. But that was different."
"No one can ever feel what you feel, Simon," Cathy told him. "How you handle something, how you process it, it's unique to you."
"Thanks."
"Now," Henry said, as he helped himself to a plate of food. "Before you leave, I have some things for you to take down to William."
Cathy shook his head. "You don't need to be quite so generous."
"It's extra. I swear!"
She laughed. "You sound like me, every time I used to bring Father 'some old sweater' with the tags still on."
He chuckled at what seemed to be some private joke between them, and Simon turned to Caroline. She didn't hate him. He could see it in her eyes, on her face. She'd learned more about him in the past two days than he'd ever shared with anyone, and she still didn't hate him. Her mother didn't hate him. Her friends didn't hate him. If Ruthie, or Lucy or Mary, ever brought home someone like him, his parents… they wouldn't hate him, but they wouldn't like him.
Caroline gave his hand another squeeze before going back to her meal. Right then, right there, he suddenly felt more at ease, more at home, more grounded than he had in longer than he could remember.
….
Catherine wasn't surprised to find Vincent waiting in the tunnel, just below the restaurant. He took both of the largest of the canvas bags, packed full of vegetables, with a shake of his head. "Henry and Lin are too generous."
"It's more than feeling as if he owes us," she assured him. She hoisted the third bag over her shoulder. In it were fresh eggs and a couple of good-sized chickens for soup. "Giving to others makes Henry feel good. It makes him happy."
"He has a good heart." He fell into step next to her.
While it wasn't unusual for him to walk with her home, Catherine knew her husband had ulterior motives—and not just helping her carry groceries down to William. That didn't stop her from savoring the time together. Even now, living together for so many years, she cherished each moment she shared with Vincent, especially the moments when it was just the two of them, in the peaceful quiet of one of the more remote tunnels.
Was it at all possible that Caroline had found that kind of love? She hoped so. She wanted Simon to return to California, of course. He needed time to heal, to find himself. She very much wanted Simon to find his feet in the world again. Even if he and Caroline weren't meant to be, she wanted him to be happy.
"How was dinner?" Vincent asked.
Catherine smiled. "I think you'd like him," she cut right to the chase. "He's a bit older than you or I might prefer, and I can imagine what Father would say."
He chuckled.
"I believe he is aware of the age difference. Conscious of it."
"How old is he?"
"I didn't ask. Most likely he's over eighteen, but under twenty-one."
"And Caroline is aware of this?"
"Yes. He's an honest boy."
"If he is as old as you say, he is a man."
Catherine didn't argue. "He's in pain. He's had a rough few years and he has a lot of growing to do."
"This doesn't trouble you?"
"It would if he weren't so acutely aware of it. He wants to heal. He just hasn't figured out how yet. I suspect his family cares deeply for him, but they haven't figured out how to help him."
"It is always the most difficult on those closest to us."
Catherine nodded. "I think, in time, Simon will grow into a fine young man. For now, I think he makes Caroline happy, and I like him because he didn't shy away from the truth, even when the truth was clearly painful."
"I have liked seeing her happy," Vincent agreed. "Although I could wish for a different source."
It was her turn to chuckle. "You and every other father of a teenaged daughter."
