Chapter 15

Walking with Jack Townsend on your arm made Jimmy feel ten feet tall. Walking with Lou had been nice, but Lou wasn't his. He could pretend that Jack belonged to him, and he decided that he would. He tucked her hand in at his elbow and they strolled along at the same easy pace, speaking of inconsequential things: the weather, the stars appearing in the sky, the restaurants they passed by, both afraid to ruin the tentative simplicity of the evening.

There were things Jack knew she could say that would easily destroy their regained harmony: Jimmy, did you think of me during all these months; I'm afraid to go back to England, Jimmy; Jimmy, I believe I love you. But she only walked alongside him, staring at their feet as they trod over hard Manhattan roads. She listened to the pleasant rumble of his voice, only half-concentrating on what he said. Just being with him was enough.

Jimmy was not the sort of man she had expected to fall in love with. But strangely enough, she knew he was exactly the sort of man that was suited to her. He was quiet strength when she was nervous fear, coaxing laughter when she fell too easily into solemnity, and perhaps most importantly, whenever she was around him that wonderful, gentle hum started coursing through her veins. With Jimmy, she felt at peace.

She had read all the books describing women in love, the flushed cheeks and pounding hearts, women hardly able to sleep or breathe for their restless longing. She had imagined that when she fell in love it would be the same, but though her heart did flutter when Jimmy was near, the actuality of her feelings couldn't have been more different from the girls in books. Jimmy calmed her, soothed her; she slept easier and breathed sounder knowing he was a part of her life, however far removed. This must have been what her mother had always meant when she warned Jack not to fly too high on girlish dreams of what romance would be like. The reality was infinitely more satisfying.

"This place looks real nice." Jimmy gestured to a quiet, gently-lit restaurant full of couples much like themselves. He felt himself breaking into a sweat. Was he crazy? This place, with its drippy candles, red tablecloths, and caressing couples was as overtly romantic a gesture as he could get without falling on bended knee and declaring his love. He started to make another suggestion when he saw Jack nod.

"It looks lovely. Let's try it," she said.

Jimmy opened the door and followed her in. The waiter seemed trained for just such an occasion as they found themselves on, and he was deferential and polite. Jimmy hid behind the large menu, peering over the top at Jack as she studied the selections before her. He wanted to tell her how pretty she looked, how nice she smelled. For the life of him he couldn't figure out why he didn't.

They gave their orders to the returning waiter and accepted his suggestion of a specific red wine, and then Jimmy and Jack found themselves at a loss. Lou was no longer there to prod conversation along, they had no trains or streets or people for distraction. At long last it was down to the two of them, and words did not seem to be coming easily. Instead their separate gazes darted around the room. At first glance the clientele that evening seemed to be made up almost entirely of two at each table, but a closer look showed that there were parties of four and sometimes more around them. It was a rather dignified restaurant, but not everyone there that night was behaving with dignity. One twosome in particular seemed to have decided they were in their own little world. They sat side by side, the man's arm around the woman's shoulders, their elbows resting on the table, hands clasped together, staring into each other's eyes as deeply and ridiculously as only newlyweds can.

Jimmy snickered. When he looked at Jack she was stifling laughter behind her pure white napkin. They shared a conspiratorial glance.

After that it was easy, the way it had been before. They laughed and talked, jumping from one subject to the next with no trouble at all. The food disappeared without the realization that they had eaten a mouthful, and soon the wine bottle was only half full. By the time Jack had crossed her knife and fork across her plate and laid her napkin down, her cheeks were pink with laughter and wine. Jimmy thought she had never looked more beautiful, but he knew he could hardly be objective. Every time he looked at Jack he thought she looked more beautiful than she ever had. He grinned wryly to himself at the uncharacteristically sentimental thought.

Conversation had lulled companionably, and the restaurant was cleared of half the earlier patrons. The waiter surreptitiously slid plates of chocolate cake dripping with strawberries onto Jack and Jimmy's table before gliding away again. He wouldn't have dreamed of bringing the bill at a moment like this. He had been a waiter far too long, he knew the signs of an upcoming romantic confession when he saw them.

"We, uh, we got your letters in March," Jimmy said. "Both of 'em at the same time."

"That's what Lou said."

"Why didn't you tell us all of that before? All that stuff about your real ma and pa and comin' to New York to find them?"

"It's funny, but I suppose I don't think of Geoffrey and Jillian as my real parents anymore. They brought me into this world certainly, but my real mum and dad are the two people waiting for me at home; they raised me, they loved me, they took care of me. It's been a hard lesson, but I don't intend to forget. But to answer your question-it was too difficult, Jimmy. It hurt so terribly to even think of it, let alone talk about it."

"We would have listened. We would have understood."

Jack shook her head and smiled at him. She had been ready to argue with him that no one could possibly have understood, but if she really thought about it, she knew that wasn't true. So she just smiled and said, "Yes, I imagine you would have. But it takes a long time for some people to admit if they're hurting."

'I'm hurtin',' Jimmy thought. 'I'm sittin' here looking across at your pretty face, and enjoyin' every minute of it. But I know that you'll be gone again, and I don't know if I can take it, Jack.'

"Tell me more about the boys and Teaspoon and Rachel," Jack urged, leaning forward over the table, her eyes lit up with expectancy. Between Lou on the train, and Jimmy this evening, Jack was pretty well filled-in on the riders' doings, but she never tired of the subject.

Jimmy, however, had more than tired of it. He had belatedly come to the realization that he had nothing to lose and everything to gain. "I don't really wanna talk about any of them anymore," he said suddenly. "I ain't told you yet how pretty you look tonight, Jack."

Jack blinked. This was an unexpected change in topic and moreover an unexpected change in Jimmy. "Th-thank you, Jimmy."

Either it was all the fancy wine they'd been downing since the moment they'd been seated, or else Jimmy had finally found the courage on his own. Whatever the reason the words were tripping easily off his tongue. "In fact, I think you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen, Jack Townsend."

Jack watched Jimmy warily. His eyes were suddenly too bright, his words a bit slurred. "Maybe we'd better get you back to the hotel. I think you've had a bit too much wine."

Jimmy glared at her. True, he was feeling a bit tipsy; true, his blood seemed to be throbbing with an unnatural energy, it was no reason for Jack to doubt his word. "This has nothin' to do with how much wine I've had."

But Jack only smiled at him and called the waiter over for their bill. It was clear in her eyes that she didn't believe what he was saying. Jimmy remained quiet in silent frustration. He paid the waiter and he and Jack walked out the door. Once more they were strangers. Jimmy was annoyed with Jack and with himself. They were on an emotional see-saw, and didn't seem to be able to stay in one mood long enough to get anything accomplished. He remembered countless warnings to the Kid on the subject of Lou: 'Kid, you're gonna miss out on the best thing that's ever happened to you if you don't do something about it'; 'Kid, do I have to light a fire under you to get you goin'?'

They were walking side by side, elbows nearly touching. They were almost to the hotel and Jimmy felt he would explode. It was everything: the pulse of the city, the crowds passing by, the glow on Jack's skin, the swirl of her pretty dress, the wine, the meal, the months of wishing-everything.

"Jack," he said.

"Hmmm?" She turned her head and realized he had stopped. She stopped alongside him. "Is everything all right?"

Jimmy swallowed hard, knowing what he was about to do, and fearing for her reaction. But damn his pride and his fears: she was near him, so soft and sweet, captivating his thoughts and attention as effortlessly as she always had. "Jack..." he whispered. They were face to face, concern etched on her features. He reached up to cup her face between his hands and a moment later pressed his lips gently against hers.

He had just begun to sink deeply into the kiss, the pleasure coursing through him, when Jack's hands went up and circled his wrists. A moment later she jerked his hands away, stopping only to stare into his eyes in shock, before turning on her heel and disappearing into the crowd of New Yorkers and the darkness of night.