Chapter Twenty-Four: Sunday, January 1, 2006, Glen Oak

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The instant the phone rang, Annie Camden knew something was wrong, and not just because it was nearly eleven o'clock at night.

Eric got to the phone first. "Hello?"

Annie followed him into the kitchen.

It's Simon, Eric mouthed to her; into the receiver, he said, "Is everything all right?"

Annie came to stand next to her husband so she could hear.

"Hey, Dad." Simon sounded…good. Happy. "I know it's not midnight there yet, but I wanted to call and say 'happy New Year'."

"Simon?" Annie couldn't contain her nerves a moment longer. "Where are you?"

"Back at Cathy's. I just got in."

What time was it in New York? How long was he out? "Is she with you?" Annie asked cautiously.

"No, Mom. Caroline's on her way home."

"But you're all right?" Eric asked. "Everything is okay there?"

"Everything is fine, Dad. I'm having a good time, I'm being safe—please don't take that the wrong way," he added quickly.

Eric and Annie exchanged looks; they already had.

"I just wanted to say I love you guys," Simon told them.

They exchanged another look. "We love you too," Annie told her son.

"I love you, Son," Eric echoed.

Simon laughed, "You guys really should get a speaker phone."

"Is… there anything else?" Eric asked.

On the other end of the line, Annie heard Simon heave a sigh. "Sort of. I talked to Matt the other day. He told me about Kevin checking into Caroline's family. I wish you guys would have just asked me."

"So, you know?" Eric asked him.

"Dad, I talk to Cathy, too. You'd like her by the way. You both would. But…look, here's the thing. Matt said you knew what had happened, but not when. And I want you to know. You should know. Jake, Caroline's brother, was born in 1988. Caroline was born in 1989."

Annie blinked. She could see Eric doing the same mental calculations he was.

"Fifteen?" Annie breathed. This girl was fifteen? She didn't look fifteen!

"Almost sixteen," Simon corrected, as if that made it somehow better.

"We thought…." Eric didn't quite seem to be able to formulate words.

"She's way more together than I ever was," Simon told them. "She knows where she wants to go to school, what she wants to do. She's smart. She's…mature."

"She's fifteen!" Annie repeated.

"Do her parents know how old you are?" Eric asked.

"Yes. Caroline told them."

"And they're okay with…?" Eric had gone pale.

"We're just…we're more than friends," Simon admitted. "I'm not really sure what we are, but I know how I feel about her. I'm pretty sure she feels the same way."

"Simon, she's fifteen," Annie said again. What was he thinking? What were her parents thinking!

"Which is why we're going to keep on taking things slow."

"Maybe we should discuss this when you come home," Eric finally told him.

"You are coming home, aren't you?" Annie asked.

There was too long of a pause on the other end of the phone. "I'm coming home," Simon finally said. "I'll talk to you guys later, okay? I really just called to say 'Happy New Year'."

"Happy New Year," Eric managed.

"Good night, Simon. We love you."

Eric hung up the receiver. "Fifteen?"

Annie sagged against the counter. "Fifteen." Almost sixteen. Sixteen in just a few days. January sixth. It wasn't much of a consolation. She reached for her sweater.

"Where are you going?" Eric asked.

"I need to talk to Lucy."

"It's nearly midnight."

"They're probably up. If I don't see lights on, I'll come home," she promised. But she needed to talk to someone. She needed to talk to Kevin.

Sunday, January 1, 2006, New York

Simon opened his eyes to find deep golden sunlight streaming in through the window—and the most beautiful woman in the world standing there, holding him a cup of coffee. He must have been sleeping pretty hard, not to have heard her come in.

"Do I even want to know why you fell asleep on the sofa, still dressed in your tux? Not that you don't look adorable," she added with a soft smile that made his stomach flutter and his knees feel weak.

"Morning." He sat up—and winced at the crick in his neck.

"Here, let me help." Caroline set the coffee cup down where he could reach it and crawled over the arm of the sofa, wedging herself behind him and the cushion. It was…intimate. It felt nice—and made him just a little nervous, to have her body pressed up against his like that. but then she went to work on the knots in his neck and shoulders.

"Oh….wow."

"This is from more than just sleeping on the sofa." It wasn't a question.

"I talked to my parents last night."

"What about?"

"You."

She didn't falter, but he still felt her surprise. "What about me?"

"Your age."

"How did they take it?"

"About like I figured they would. I wouldn't be surprised if one or both of them isn't already on a plane out here."

"They wouldn't!"

"You don't know my parents." He closed his eyes for a moment and allowed himself to enjoy the closeness—the strength of her hands as she mercilessly attacked the knot under his right shoulder blade.

"Why don't you go take a hot shower," Caroline suggested after a few minutes. "I mean a long one," she clarified. "It'll help."

"Will you…hang around?" He tried to swivel so he could see her face—but she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, which, as much as he wanted to look at her, was infinitely better.

"Of course, I will. I came here to see you, to spend the first day of the new year with you."

God, I really do love you.

He laid his hands over top of her arms a moment, then got up. "I won't be long."

"Yes, you will. I said a long shower." She grinned, then. "I have a shelf full of books to keep me company. Take your coffee," she added. "You look like you need it."

He leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head.

….

Simon couldn't help wonder, as he emerged from the bedroom almost forty minutes later showered and dressed in jeans and a clean pullover, to find Caroline curled up on the sofa with a book and a mug of tea, what it would be like to have this all the time. To always have her to come home to, or to have her come home to him at the end of a long day. Daydreams like that were for a future that was a long way off, but when she looked up from the book, when she placed a bookmark carefully between the pages and set it aside, so her attention seemed focused solely on him, he couldn't imagine wanting anything else in the world than this. Her. The life he imagined.

"Do you want to go out and get something to eat?" Caroline asked.

"Why don't I cook?" he countered. "It won't be as fancy as that crepe place you like—"

"I'm sure it'll be wonderful."

He smiled and padded over to the kitchen, Caroline on his heels. He'd found a box of pancake mix in the cupboard and there were eggs and milk in the fridge, butter, maple syrup. Cathy even had a few spices in the pantry, and Simon had picked up blueberries at the market the other day.

"You really do know your way around a kitchen," Caroline observed.

"I enjoy cooking. It's relaxing."

"I'm not sure Mother would agree with you."

He ladled batter out onto the skillet. "Caroline…about last night—"

"You're not the only one whose afraid, Simon. I'm sure your parents—your brother, maybe even Sarah—have told you that I'm too young for you, too young possibly even to know my own mind. My own heart. I'm afraid you're going to decide they're right, or give into the fear that I'll outgrow you, somehow. It's not an unreasonable fear. I do have my whole life ahead of me. But I know my own mind, Simon."

"What do your parents think?" He flipped the pancakes.

"They know you make me happy. That you're kind. Considerate. Respectful. That's enough for them. My grandfather, on the other hand, has reminded me that I'm young and could easily fall…that there may be many more 'suitors' in my life before I find myself ready to seriously commit my life to someone. He reminded me that my father had a crush on a girl when he was just a little younger than me and that my mother had been engaged when she and Father met, that even after they met, she developed feelings for Uncle Elliot."

"Your mother and Elliot had a thing?" He asked, surprised.

Then again, they did seem close. Why wasn't Caroline's father jealous? Why wasn't Amy?

He plated up their breakfast and carried it over to the table, in front of the window.

"It's a long, somewhat complicated story," Caroline explained. "The gist of it is that according to Uncle Elliot, Mother was the first person he ever truly loved. Amy is the only other person." She smiled a little, as if lost in memory. Whatever memory it was, Simon was sure it was a happy one. Warmth blossomed in his chest, even without knowing what it was. "I love seeing him so happy," Caroline said at last. "Before Amy came into his life, Uncle Elliot always seemed a little…empty. He was happy, but there was this place inside him that never seemed quite full. He'd done what he could to fill it with the love of his family. Us. But then one cold November night, on his way back from a concert, he found Amy sitting behind the wheel of a stalled car, and he stopped to see if she needed help—not that he's terribly mechanical or anything. He convinced her to have dinner with him while she waited for a tow truck. And after that…." She shrugged. "That empty place is gone, now."

"It's almost a little frightening how much dumb luck plays a part in our lives." Simon reached across the table to lay his hand on top of hers. "Like how you were sitting in the courtyard outside St. Vincent's, at exactly the same time I was there with Matt, waiting for Sarah. If you'd picked a different day to be there, or a different place to sit and read, or if me and Matt had decided to go out for lunch on our own, I might never have met you and…." He hesitated. "I think I understand what you mean about Elliot having this empty place inside." Maybe that explained why Elliot seemed happy about him and Caroline. He understood what it was like to have friends, family. But not love. "I was that way too, for a long time. Maybe even longer than I realized, because I've never felt quite like this before."

"If I say 'me either', will you tell me it's because I'm too young?"

"You're not that much younger than me, Caroline."

"One of my biggest fears is that you'll tell me I should go off and date other boys next year."

"I don't think it would be fair for me to tell you not to," he said slowly. Cautiously. "But I'd be lying if I said it wouldn't hurt. I know I had those couple of dates with Rose—"

"That hardly counts as anything." She met his gaze. "I don't want to see anybody else, Simon."

"Are you sure? What you told me your grandfather said, he's not wrong."

"He's not," she conceded. "But he's not right either. What's so funny?" she asked when he smiled.

"I was thinking exactly the same thing about something my parents said. It was pretty much exactly what your grandfather told you. I just…I don't want to be unfair, asking you to hold out for a guy like me."

"I'm the one being unfair. I'm asking you to hold out. I'm the one whose still a child."

"You're no child. You're more together than I've ever been. And I don't mind taking things slow with you. I…I like this. Part of me does look forward to 'some day', but this, right here, today?" He gave her hand a squeeze. "This is the happiest I've ever been. I'm not in any rush to change anything between us."

He felt her surge of warmth as surely as if it were his own. Then she faltered, just a little. "I…I'm not half as together as you think I am, Simon. I'm terrified of what next year is going to bring. University. Law school. As much as I want to make a difference in the world, as much as I look up to and want to be like my mother, I'm scared. I'm not ready to leave home. I don't know if I'll ever be ready. I'll never fit in."

"Of course you will. You're smart, Caroline. You won't always be the youngest person in class. Even if it's just part time, and even if you decide you don't want to be a lawyer, you should give college a shot."

"You don't understand. There's…there's more to it. I can't go into it."

"Does whatever it is have to do with why I haven't met your father yet?" He could feel her walling herself off. "Caroline, whatever it is—"

She shook her head. "I can't explain it, Simon. It goes back to all those things you don't understand about me. My world. All the things I can't tell you."

"Can't tell me yet, or can't tell me ever?"

"Can't tell you yet. Father does want to meet you. Just…not now. Not yet. Someday, I promise."

"All right. I can be patient."

They finished eating in felt like mostly comfortable silence. At the end of the meal, they carried their dishes to the kitchen.

Simon leaned against the counter. "I've been thinking about something. For a while now, actually. How would you feel if I moved to New York?"

She sucked in a startled breath. "You…want to move here?"

"I'd like to be closer to you."

"But you barely know me."

"I know everything I need to know." Simon gathered her into his arms and looked at her for a long moment. The curve of her nose, the fine lines of her face. Her sky-blue eyes and long, wild curls. There was something about her that was almost feral, always graceful. There was something alluring, and yet innocent. Something provocative. It made his blood stir—and yet more than anything, he wanted to protect her innocence. "When I told you I was afraid to fall in love with you…the truth is that I already have. What I'm afraid of is losing you."

She searched his face—his eyes—for a long moment before laying her cheek against his chest. "You have nothing to fear, Simon."

He feathered a soft kiss to the top of her head.

Please, dear God, don't let me mess this up.

After a long, comfortable moment, Caroline looked up at him again. "Do you want to take a walk in the park?"

"Sure." He looked around. "Did you bring a coat?"

"I'll be fine."

"You'll freeze."

"It's really not that cold."

He shook his head and grabbed his old Northern hoodie out of the closet. Between that and the sweater she was wearing, she should be warm enough, even if it was ridiculously large on her. Just the same, Caroline seemed pleased, and looked adorably cute.

Simon wasn't entirely certain he was ever going to get used to New York winters, but as they exited the building and headed towards the park holding hands, he knew it would be worth it. "Are you really okay with me moving here?" he asked. He was sure what his parents would say about rushing things. He only hoped her parents wouldn't suddenly change their mind about him, if he lived down the block instead of three thousand miles away.

"I'd like very much for you to be closer to me. I might even be able to help you find a place to live, as long as you don't object to me helping?" She shot him an inquisitive look.

"Are you kidding? It means I don't have to hunt for an apartment from the other side of the country—or beg Matt to let me sleep on his sofa." Which he might not agree to.

She grinned. "I should warn you that anything I help you find…it'll be with people who've known me my whole life. You've hardly touched the tip of the iceberg when it comes to my extended family."

"From what I've seen so far, I like your extended family."