Chapter Nineteen: Tuesday, December 27, 2005, New York City

After breakfast, the adults went their separate ways, while Simon, Caroline, Jake, Charles, Lauren, Beth, Piper, (Laura and Jerry's twelve-year-old daughter), Tom (their fifteen-year-old son), Beryl, Tobin, and Moora went to a movie—after the older children promised it would be strictly G-rated and that they'd keep a close eye on Moora. Having nowhere to be until later, Matt decided to tag along. He'd half-expected Simon to object, accuse him of spying, but Simon had smiled, like he was glad to have Matt with them. Not that Matt's presence stopped Simon from walking hand in hand with Caroline. Simon kept his other hand on Moora's shoulder the entire walk to the subway, and especially in the station. When they got on the train, she sat between him and Jake, who seemed to ooze protectiveness, especially over the youngest member of their party.

Caroline was on Simon's other side, leaning against his shoulder, his arm around her, still holding hands, fingers intertwined.

Lauren sat down next to Matt and looked up at him. "Doing the big brother thing?" she asked. She suddenly reminded him entirely too much of Ruthie.

"Is it that obvious?"

She smirked. "You have the same look on your face that my Uncle Peter did when Mom brought Elliot home for the first time. Uncle Peter is a big brother, too. But my uncle Vincent—a different Vincent than Caroline's dad Vincent—anyway, he didn't like Elliot much either. Grandma decided to 'reserve judgement.'"

"What about you?"

"I liked Elliot. He never treated me like a little kid and he's not a dork like most of Mom's other boyfriends were."

Matt laughed. "You should have seen some of the guys my sisters brought home."

"Are you the oldest?"

Matt nodded.

"I figured as much. I don't have any brothers or sisters, so if Mom and Elliot have a baby, I'll be the oldest. But I think older sisters are different from older brothers."

"I think you're right.

…..

"I'll see you tonight," Simon told his brother, as they parted ways after the movie. Matt had class in a few hours, but Simon had promised to meet up with him and Sarah for a late dinner.

"Try to get a nap in, if you can," Matt advised. "It might not seem like much, but the time difference can be killer."

Simon nodded. He was already feeling it, but he wasn't ready to pack it in for the day, so when someone suggested ice skating in the park, he went along, happy just to be there, holding Caroline's hand. Maybe it was silly, juvenile, even—and ridiculous that he thought he could actually feel the soft rhythm of her heart—but he wanted to spend every moment he could with her before he had to go back home.

"Just for the record," he told her, as she helped him lace up the rented skates, "I've never done this before.

Jake already had his on. "Don't worry. The only thing you can really hurt is your pride," he teased.

"Gee, thanks." Simon watched him skate away from the side of the huge rink with grace and poise he was sure he would never possess himself. But at the same time, when Jake spotted Tobin wobbling on his skates, he and Charles headed over to offer assistance. Beth, Lauren, and Piper had Moora; Beryl had politely but firmly bowed out of the entire activity, and was watching from the sidelines with Tom.

"It's really not that hard," Caroline promised. She stood and offered Simon her hand.

"From the looks of things, you guys grew up on the ice. I'm from California, remember?"

Her laughter filled him with warmth; there was nothing condescending about it. "Don't worry. I won't let you fall."

"Are you sure you could catch me, if I did?" he was teasing—but he could tell by her expression that she wasn't.

"I could." She led him out onto the rink, walking backwards, and holding both his hands.

Simon felt like a day-old calf, especially when Jake glided past again.

"He's just showing off," Caroline told Simon.

"The bar is pretty low for showing me up." He started to wobble—but she held fast, and he had to admit, her grip was strong.

"Lean on me all you need to," said, and so he did.

…..

Simon never mastered skating; he never even came close. But he managed not to fall and when Lyla and Devin came to collect the Hancock children, Simon asked Caroline about handing in their skates getting a cup of hot chocolate, then maybe finding somewhere for lunch, just the two of them. He loved—or at least liked—her family and her friends, at least most of the time (he still wasn't 100% sure what to make of Jake sometimes), but he wanted quiet time to talk, even if it wasn't about anything in particular.

They sat on a bench drinking hot cocoa for a while, watching a group of school kids who were clearly enjoying their holiday break, some on toboggans, others building snow men or snow forts. They didn't talk, but Caroline leaned against his shoulder like she had on the subway. Like she had when he was here last April. When snow began to fall, in fat, white flakes, he felt rather than saw her smile. Eventually, but unspoken decision, they got up and Caroline led the way to a little Italian bistro where apparently the maître d' knew her by name.

"Elliot helped the owner finance the place," she explained to Simon, as they took their seats. "And I have a couple of friends who work here."

"I feel like your family knows everyone."

She blushed.

"No, it's a good thing. My family's the same way. We've been going to the same pizza place, the same pool hall, even the same bookstore pretty much my whole life. Everyone knows my dad, so everyone knows the rest of us. Which has its downsides, too, believe me."

Caroline laughed, "Like knowing there will always be someone who can and will tell your parents when you do something you shouldn't."

Simon nodded. They decided to split an entrée and a couple of appetizers and by the time they were through, Simon was both stuffed and exhausted. But at least he got to pay, this time.

"You should take Matt's advice and get in a nap," Caroline said, as they headed out of the warm, savory scented restaurant back into the cold.

"Yeah. I guess."

Caroline took his hands in hers. "There's always tomorrow, Simon. I promise. I'm not going anywhere."

His heart seemed to stutter in his chest and his stomach was suddenly awash with a fresh flutter of nerves. "I hope you mean that the way it sounded." His voice sounded shaky.

She smiled and stepped in so close, he could feel the warmth radiating from her skin. "I did."

For a long moment he felt almost paralyzed, frozen in place, torn between the intense desire to kiss her and the equally intense desire to not do anything that would shatter the magic he felt, just standing there, her hands wrapped around his, her warmth filling him with…. Possibilities.

Caroline stepped back. It broke the moment, but somehow, the magic remained. "I'll walk you a far as the apartment building."

…..

A quick shower and a couple hours of sleep did wonders for making Simon feel more like himself again. He slid into a clean pair of jeans, pulled on a clean shirt, and headed out the door, determined to master the subway system—or at least make it from Manhattan to Washington Heights without having to resort to getting a cab. After all, he'd taken the bus for almost a year before Dad let him get his license.

Granted Glen Oak isn't New York.

But still. He could do this.

He only got turned around once, called Matt and Sarah to tell them he'd be late—reassured them that he didn't need them to meet him where he was or even at the subway station. He'd manage. It would just take an extra half an hour. It turned out to be forty minutes, but in the end, he felt like he'd accomplished something huge, even if the people who lived in this city navigated the subway all the time.

"It's so good to see you," Sarah greeted him with a warm hug.

"Sorry I'm late."

"You're fine," she promised.

Sarah took his coat and he joined Matt in the kitchen.

"It's not Mom's—and it's chicken not pork chops, but…." Matt had made modified Mom's stuffed pork chop recipe into stuffed chicken breasts.

"You didn't have to go through this much trouble. I would have been happy ordering in pizza."

"Shhhh." Sarah grinned. "Don't say anything that discourages him from cooking!"

Simon chuckled. "What can I do to help?"

He and Sarah set the table and Matt brought out dinner. While they ate, they caught up, mostly talking about work and school, and Matt almost conspicuously not asking Simon about his plans for the future, why his focus seem to have shifted so drastically away from film to language and literature. Not that he hadn't had to take some literature classes at Northern California, but he'd never shown any special interest in it before, and certainly wasn't someone anyone—least of all his old high school English teachers—would have expected to pick up Dickens voluntarily.

After dinner, he helped Matt and Sarah clean up.

"You should sit, you're a guest," Sarah tried to tell him.

"I'm family, and anyway, you cooked."

"Matt cooked," Simon corrected her.

"Yeah, right. I cooked. Why am I cleaning up again?"

"Who washed your scrubs after that patient vomited all over you last week?"

"Oh," said Matt. "Right."

Simon grinned. Was it premature or hopelessly naïve to imagine him and Caroline having conversations like that someday?

Matt leaned against the kitchen counter—not that it was much of a kitchen, more like a tiny corner of an apartment that was smaller than the one he and John Hamilton had shared back when he was at Crawford. "So…you and Caroline." It wasn't quite a question, but his tone clearly invited Simon to say something.

"Me and Caroline." Simon opted for the simplest thing he could think of. He passed Matt a pan to dry.

"Okay, I admit, I like her," Matt told him begrudgingly. "I still think she's too young for you. I know what I'd say if Ruthie brought home someone your age and I don't know why her parents are okay with this."

"More than her parents," Simon pointed out.

"Yeah, that was…something." Matt put the pan into a cupboard over the stove.

"Like being back home?" Simon flashed a grin. "Speaking of which, Mom wanted me to bug you guys about coming home to visit. Both moms," he added. Rosina had called him twice last week to remind him.

"I wish we could find the time," Sarah told him. "Believe me. You Gentiles have nothing on Jewish mothers for guilt trips!"

"Just try, okay?" Simon pleaded.

"I'll see what I can do on my end," Sarah promised. She gave Matt a look.

"Yeah. Maybe…February?" Matt suggested.

Simon would just be happy to be able to tell Mom they were trying.