Chapter 8.

Jim had been contemplating calling Cara all day and was ready for the end that he felt sure was coming. When the phone rang, and his mother handed it to him with a knowing smile, he realized that breaking the news to friends and family would be more difficult than he thought. He had effectively told everyone he had won the lotto and was now going to have to admit to misreading a number.

As they talked, he tensed, waiting for Cara to pull the trigger. She didn't, nor did she remove the gun from his head. She sounded down, with none of the usual sparkle in her voice. It had the undeniable ’we're finished’ air. She asked if he could come over after dinner.

He arrived at Cara's at seven. When she opened the door, he immediately sensed a remoteness to her smile. In that frozen moment between eyes meeting and an awkward embrace, Jim felt all remaining hope fade.

In the many years that he had stared at her from afar and in the few weeks that he had known her up close, Cara had always conveyed a magical, mysterious aurora. Her smile was always bright and refreshing, her beauty far beyond any of the other girlfriends he had managed to snare. She radiated an inner strength and vulnerability that had intrigued him as an onlooker, and now fed his infatuation as a boyfriend, or at least something close to a boyfriend.

He had been there in the church at her father's funeral and had cried along with the whole congregation as she delivered the eulogy, tears sparkling in her eyes but her voice steady. From that moment, he was sure that they were part of some grand cosmic plan that sought to unite them. Now, however, struggling in his usual fashion for an icebreaker, he wondered why destiny had played him for a fool.

In a reflex move, he leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. Cara took a step forward and kissed him gently on his lips. She took his hand in hers.

"Can we go for a walk on the beach?" she asked, showing the barest hint of a smile that lifted Jim’s spirits to the heavens.

On the drive, Jim was happy to do most of the listening as Cara detailed an unsuccessful shopping trip to find a birthday present for her mother. He enjoyed her stories and was always mesmerized by both the teller and the telling. Cara combined an astounding factual accuracy with perfect theatrical delivery. She quoted verbatim conversations with people, with no detail too trivial to leave out.

By the time they reached the beach, Jim was sure his lotto ticket was once again a winner. The only question remaining was when he could collect the grand prize? They parked and walked hand in hand onto the sand.

"It's a beautiful evening," Cara said.

"Sure is."

Cara seemed to drift into thought. Jim jumped to fill the dead air with one of his standards.

"Have you eaten yet?"

"Mum made dinner before I left. Did you have something?"

"Yeah," he lied, as digestive acids cut into the lining of his empty stomach.

They stopped at the water’s edge. Cara took off her sandals and walked into the water. Jim jumped back as a wave threatened to soak his shoes.

"Is it cold?" he asked.

"No, it's nice. You should come in."

He took off his shoes and walked out to her.

"It's freezing," he said, faking a shudder.

"Let's walk. You’ll soon warm up." She took his hand, and they strolled in the shallow breakwater.

"Did you hear about Mr. Kilroy’s accident? You know, Rick’s father," Jim asked.

"No. What happened?"

"Well, I don't know all the details yet, but he was driving into town this morning and had a heart attack or something like that."

Cara stopped. "Oh my God! How is he?"

"I think he’s okay."

"Is he in the hospital?"

"I don't know, but if it was serious, I would have heard something by now."

"Rick is your friend," Cara said, concern turning to annoyance. "You should check." She let go of his hand and started walking again.

"I’ll call," Jim said, catching up with her. "I just didn’t want to bother him."

"Really," Cara said in a tone rich with sarcasm. "That was considerate of you."

They walked on in silence; Cara was lost in thought.

"You know, my father died of a heart attack earlier this year," she said. "I came home from school and found him lying on the kitchen floor. Mum was out shopping."

Jim said nothing.

"He was not ill," Cara said. "There were no symptoms, no warning.”

"I know your father died," Jim said, nervously biting his lip. "I went to his funeral."

"Did you know my father?"

"No, not really."

"Why did you go to his funeral if you didn't know him?"

Jim hesitated, weighing up various versions of the truth. "Cara," he said. "You’ve known me for about two weeks, but I’ve known you for years. I used to stand outside your school just to catch a glimpse of you. I wandered around town on weekends, hoping to see you. I wanted to talk to you a hundred times, but I never had the balls."

"Nicely put."

"I'm sorry. I mean, I couldn't approach you. I guess I was scared. When your father died, I wanted to say I was sorry and help you somehow. It was a stupid idea to attend the funeral."

"Did you speak to me at the church? I don't remember seeing you."

"No. I left right after the service. I realized there was nothing I could do to help you."

They walked on. Cara’s eyes filled with tears.

"I am sorry," Jim said.

"Jim," Cara said softly, "I wish you had talked to me that day. It would’ve helped." She turned to him and took his hands. "You weren’t the stranger you thought you were."

Cara took the lead and they kissed.

"I was sure you were going to dump me tonight," Jim said.

"Why?"

"Well, you didn’t want to go out last night, and earlier on the phone, you sounded down. I figured you’d enough of me."

"No, it wasn’t you. These last few days, my mother has been having a hard time. She has good days, and then suddenly, she’s back to tears. She’s not over my father's death."

"I understand," Jim said. "I’m sure it’s hard for both of you."

"We manage. We're a good team."

"This may be six months late, but if there’s anything I can do, let me know."

Cara smiled. "Sure, you can start with cutting our lawn."

Jim laughed. "I’m on it."

"How about we head to Morellies and get some ice cream," Cara said.

Back at the car, Jim retrieved the small wooden box and presented it to Cara.

"Look. We found this up at the picnic spot."

Cara took the box and turned it in her hands.

Acting the scholar, Jim said, "I did some research. I think it’s an antique puzzle box. It may be worth a few hundred with any luck. We found two of them. Rick has the other one."

Cara tried to open the box.

"I couldn't open it," Jim said. "Rick tried to smash his with a spade." He forced a laugh. "He gets crazy sometimes."

Cara placed the box on her lap. "Did you find anything else?"

"No. The boxes were buried where we were sitting."

"Do you think it has anything to do with what happened?"

The question did not surprise Jim as much as Cara’s manner — matter of fact, as if asking had he seen a television program the night before. There was no embarrassment or nervousness, yet the question was on one level ridiculous and on another unspeakably bizarre with implications too absurd to entertain.

"Of course not. Don't be silly," Jim answered.

Cara pressed on. "I don't know what it is, but I’ve had a strange feeling since then. That night I had nightmares. I can't remember them, but I kept waking up terrified. And yesterday, I was bothered off and on all day. It was as if I had something to dread, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. I’m not neurotic, but I was scared." She paused. "Jim, am I going crazy? Did you feel anything like that?"

Jim put an arm over her shoulder, pulled her close, and answered the easier question.

"You’re not going crazy. You’re the most rational person I know."

"But what about you?" she asked. "I know you felt something that night."

The sparkle of tears in her eyes shocked him. He suddenly felt vulnerable to her disquiet and his repressed anxiety.

"Cara, I'm not sure what you’re getting at, but I don't think it’s worth worrying about."

"You’re right. It's like a toothache. The more you think about it, the more it bothers you." She smiled. "How about we get that ice cream?"

"Good idea."

Cara continued to examine the box.

"My Aunt Jane owns an antique shop in town, the one on Market Street. I could take the box and ask her to have a look at it. She might be able to tell us something about it."

"Sure. You keep it and check with her tomorrow."

He dropped her off home at 11:00 PM. Back in her room, Cara could not sleep, thinking of Jim and giddy from the evening. For the first time in months, she fell asleep looking forward to the morning.