Cotton’s Cove - Chapter Eleven

	Mrs. Murdoch took her to a small place off a back lane. It was nothing to look at
from the outside, but inside it was a well decorated restaurant. The hostess greeted the
elderly woman by name and ushered them to a table.
	“Friends of mine,” Mrs. Murdoch announced as she and Megan settled at the
table. “They run a good place here, and the food is to die for.”
	“You come here often then?” Megan asked.  “I would never have thought to
come in here from the way it looks outside.”
	Mrs. Murdoch smiled.  “That’s the beauty of it. It’s such a surprise when you step
inside. I come in here whenever I get a chance.”
	As they chatted over the menu Mrs. Murdoch insisted that Megan call her Agatha
as all her friends did. In the end, Megan let her order for her, and waited to see what she
would be getting.  When the waiter arrived to take their order, Agatha pointed to a few
places on the menu and winked at Megan across the table.
	“You will enjoy it, I promise,” she said, and Megan wondered what had been
ordered for her. 
	A salad was served first.  A salad Megan had never seen before. Spinach and
lettuce were topped with large cubes of unsliced bacon and walnuts.  It was an
interesting start and Megan could hardly wait for the rest of the meal.  She didn’t have to
wait long. No sooner had she set her salad plate aside than the waiter produced a soup,
clear as water but chock full of sliced vegetables, with a little bowl of croutons to sprinkle
over the top.
	“What’s in this?” Megan asked, staring at the bowl.
	“Everything you can imagine,” Agatha replied. “Herbs and vegetables. Very
refreshing.”  As soon as she tasted it Megan had to agree.  “That’s what I like about this
place,” Agatha told her. “It’s good food, all entirely homemade.”
	When the entree arrived Megan looked at the delicious looking meat set on a
bed of rice, intrigued.  The aroma was enough to make one hungry again, and she
picked up her fork and tasted a bit of the meat.
	“Mmmm, wonderful! What is it?”
	Agatha grinned at her. “Rabbit,” She said simply.
	Megan stared at the woman across the table. “You mean you want me to eat a
soft cuddly little bunny?”
	Agatha laughed at her. “It’s all in the mind, It’s a French delicacy. You’ve tasted
it, and you know it’s good.” She took a bite of hers and Megan followed. She had to
admit, she hadn’t tasted anything so good in a long time. She finally shoved the picture
of furry pets to the back of her mind and devoured her meal.
	They sat back and relaxed then, for Agatha insisted they not leave without
dessert. However, they both agreed they would have to let their food settle first. Megan
was having such a god time that she managed to forget entirely that this woman was
Jonathan’s mother. They talked about Molly, and the children, the village, and the cove.
Agatha told her how the vacant beach front had been before her husband had bought it
and converted it into the present day resort.
	“We wanted to make it a place where people could go and yet not be stuck in a
hotel atmosphere. We wanted to offer them full service meals, maids, and things like
that, but let them stay in the atmosphere of a place of their own by the sea.”
	“It worked,” Megan remarked, thinking how each cabin had been set away from
the others and given a nice feeling of privacy.
	“Tom could never figure out why we were bothering with that empty piece of
beach.” She shook her head, remembering. But I always offered him a job, and held out
hope that he would turn around some day. It looks like there is no more hope. Jonathan
was very angry when he told me he had fired the boy and that I was not to hire him back
under any circumstances. He said he had been harassing customers but never did tell
me any more than that.”
	Megan actually found herself talking about it with ease with this friendly lady. She
felt none of the pressure that she felt when talking to Jonathan, the pressure to be out of
his presence quickly.  Agatha shook her head as she listened to how Tom had lured her
into the cave and not told her about the turning tide.
	“I was lucky that I had already met Jacob and he spotted me,” Megan said. “He
notified Jonathan.”
	“Jacob is a fine boy. He reminds me a lot of Jonathan when he was little. But
Jonathan was always in more trouble than that.” She laughed and Megan remembered
the old man saying Jonathan was always into something.
	The waiter returned to inquire about their choice of dessert and Agatha ordered a
cheesecake that was so rich Megan wasn’t sure she could finish it. Then it was time to
go. Agatha insisted that Megan return to the house with her for a longer visit. Megan
hesitated. What if Jonathan were there, she thought.
	“My son will probably not be home at all,” Agatha said, almost as it reading her
thoughts, so she gave in.  It was hard to refuse this friendly lady.  When they arrived at
the house Megan breathed a sigh of relief that this time as she approached the house,
there were no  lights on.
	Inside Agatha searched out a number of old photo albums, and sat next to
Megan looking over pictures of the children.  There were funny shots of Jacob and Sara,
and some older ones of Molly and Jonathan. He stared out from the photos, a little boy
in dirty clothes, with windswept hair, and mischief in his eyes. Megan’s heart flipped as
she stared down at the pictures.
	“Next time Molly is out this way I’ll make sure to have you over so you can see
the children again,” Agatha was saying.
	“That would be lovely,” Megan sighed. She moved on through the albums, not
wanting to be caught looking at Jonathan for too long. Agatha left her for a moment to
fetch refreshments. When she heard the door open shortly afterward she smiled, thinking it was
Agatha returning. Instead, it was her son, staring coldly at her from the doorway.
	“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
	“I’m sorry,” she said, almost jumping off the sofa, biting her lip. Why was she
always saying she was sorry to him? “Your mother invited me in. I thought you wouldn’t
be home. I mean...” It was no use. No matter what she said he would take it the wrong
way. He always did. She silently prayed for his mother to return quickly.
	She didn’t have to wait long. “Look who I ran into at Smithers’ office,” she said to
her son, delightedly, when she returned to the room. “We had dinner together, and then
I insisted she come back here.”
	“Indeed,” he said dryly.
	Megan looked helplessly at the glass Agatha had handed her, then at the
woman. “Perhaps I had better be going. It must be quite late.”
	“Running away again?” His voice was cold and calculating.
	“No, of course not.” Megan sat down dumbly on the edge of the sofa while
Agatha took her son by the arm and drew him into the room. She talked animatedly
about their dinner while Megan sat uncomfortably under his gaze.  Finally Agatha
glanced at her.
	“My, maybe you’re right. You do look a little tired Dear.  I forgot you haven’t been
home at all since work. Jonathan will drive you home, won’t you Jonathan?”
	“Oh no, he doesn’t have to do that,” Megan insisted, and when she noticed the
sarcastic look on his face she bit her lip. “I mean, surely he must want to relax. He just got
home.  I wouldn’t dream of making him go back outside.” Jonathan eyed her mockingly
and she wished she could hide under the table.
	“Nonsense,” Agatha said, looking at her son.
	“I’d be delighted,” he said, rising slowly from his chair. He grinned pleasantly at
her and Megan was sure it was merely for his mother’s benefit. But Agatha nodded,
everything was settled. She would accept no further arguments from Megan.
	Megan followed Jonathan meekly to the door. She hugged her hostess warmly
and then turned, a bit apprehensive, to where Jonathan was holding the car door open
for her.  He drove slowly, as if to prolong her agony, but said nothing until they left the
lane in the direction of her apartment building.
	“I trust you are quite over your ordeal at the resort,” he said coolly.
	“My head is better, thank you,” she said, hoping he would not question her
further on the matter. She did not want him to think her entire vacation had been an
ordeal.	“Your mother thinks you haven’t been well,” she ventured.
	“What does Mother know,” he snapped at her, and she wished she had said
nothing. “I’m just very tired. I have a lot of work to catch up on since I returned.” He said
this as if making excuses and Megan didn’t dare question him further. They stopped in
front of her building and sat in silence for what seemed like forever, while she wondered
if he expected her to say more. Finally, when the silence became unbearable, she
reached for the door.
	“Thank you for driving me home. I’d better not keep you any longer.” She spoke
a little too hastily and he looked at her with hardened eyes.
	“When are you going to stop running away, Meg?”
	“I’m not running away from anything,” she protested. How could she tell him that
she couldn’t bear to be in his company because of her love for him? He did not speak
again, and she closed the door and fled to her apartment. As she entered the elevator
she could still see the front of his car as it remained motionless.
	Instinctively, as if drawn by some strange power, she went to the balcony as
soon as she reached her apartment. She stared out through the darkness towards
Jonathan’s house. When his car finally pulled up outside she realized she had been
holding her breath.  He stepped out, and she was riveted to the spot as he turned to look
upwards, almost as it searching for her. But then he turned and went inside and she felt
suddenly empty and alone. A slight breeze blew past her, making her shiver.
	She wanted to cry but scolded herself. She was being ridiculous of course. Why
was she so heartbroken over this man? She was nothing but trouble to him, and he
disliked her intensely. She felt helpless, and went to bed, but she could not sleep. His
face haunted her. She closed her eyes and he was laying with her on the beach, kissing
her. She opened her eyes, and in the darkness she could see him laughing at her when
she had no towel for the bath. Like a ghost she saw him holding her in his arms. What
would have happened if she had let him continue, if she had not fled from her emotions,
and from him? Of course, she would have  done whatever he had wanted. She would
have been under his spell. But she would have hated herself for giving in to a man who
did not love her. She spent a fitful night, unable to get his face from her thoughts. His
face, laughing at her, teasing her, angry with her, concerned. It always stared at her, no
matter where she turned.
	The dawn broke dismal and rainy, almost as if in response to Megan’s own
feelings. She was tired, but she could lay in bed no longer. She went once more to the
balcony and stared out at the house. It stood staring back at her, mocking, so perfect
and noble, while she was unworthy of even stepping inside.  She had felt like a different
person in that house. Now she was as sorrowful as the weather.
	She dressed carelessly and left the apartment.  She felt trapped inside, and
needed to get out. She walked aimlessly through the rain, letting it soak her as she
walked with neither umbrella nor jacket. Her feet took her to the little lake where she had
gone with Jonathan. She stood staring out across the water, the gray sky meeting it in a
fuzzy line at the horizon. The water was rough, tiny waves breaking on the sand, and
rain bouncing from it’s surface.  The sand was wet under her shoes and the rain cool
against her face. She sat sadly under a small tree, partially sheltered from the rain, only
a drizzle escaping the leafy canopy to fall on her. Hugging her knees to her chest she
looked along the deserted beach.
	She thought about Anna, and how she would have loved this spot.  Anna, who
was always so full of energy. She wondered how she was doing.  Then there was little
Sara. Shy, loving, Sara, afraid to let go of her new found friend. Was Megan afraid? She
wondered what it was she feared so much about Jonathan. Or was it her feelings for him
she feared.  She loved him. She knew that. Was she afraid to hear his rejection out
loud?
	She rested her head back against the tree, and soon found herself daydreaming. 
But the rain went on, and a wind crept up, penetrating her dreams. Deep purple and
gray clouds that had hung on the horizon now swept fiercely across the sky, reminding
her of one other day she had been on this beach. She shivered, and stood, instinctively
heading towards the little restaurant where Jonathan had taken her.  It drew her like a
magnet, and she almost ran as she drew nearer.
	Inside, they recognized her immediately, and smiled brightly. “You shouldn’t be
out, you look soaked,” said the concerned waiter.
	She laughed at herself. “I guess I couldn’t resist it,” she said. As a child she had
escaped all watchful adult eyes to romp in the rain. Often she had ended up sick and in
bed for a week afterward, but the rain had always been an inviting cloak to her. She
could laugh or cry, and no one would know.
	They led her to a table in the back near the fireplace. There was a full fire burning
and she was thankful for the heat of it. 
	“We don’t usually light it in the summer, but today we need to keep the
dampness out,” one waiter told her. “But today, no customers are out in that downpour.”
	“Well, here I am!” she said, trying to cheer them. “Mind you, I can’t do more than
sit here and get dry. I just came out for a walk, and I didn’t bring any money with me.” 
	The cook, who had been in the front with the rest of the staff when she had
arrived, laughed at her. “For coming to us in this weather I should be delighted to treat
you on the house.”
	“Oh no! I couldn’t do that,” she shook her head. “You would never make a profit
that way.”
	He shrugged. “But we know you will come back,” his grin widened.  She looked
around the place. Yes, she would come back. It was just as she had thought of it, a little
bit of the seaside, captured and hidden away in the heart of the city. Even the men who
worked there looked like sailors and fishermen.
	“So, what will you have?” the chef was asking her.  She tried to refuse again but
he was insistent.  “It is not often a beautiful woman comes in out of the rain to sit with
us.”
	“You flatter me,” she laughed. But she found it impossible to refuse their offer
and the chef went away satisfied that she would be getting his specialty.  
	When the food was brought to her she felt like a celebrity. Everyone sat around
her table, watching her eat and chatting with her. She was given a plate heaping with
shrimp and lobster and other seafood. It looked filling, but she was sure any one of them
would help her eat it if she had trouble.
	“You are a friend of Jonathan’s,” one said.
	Her face clouded. She wasn’t sure if friend was the right word, but she didn’t
want to disillusion them.  “Something like that,” she said, and they all grinned at her. She
realized her answer had led them in the wrong direction. Now they believed there was
more between her and Jonathan than there ever would be. “More like a friend of his
mother’s,” she added, in hopes of changing their thoughts.
	The chef nodded emphatically. “Ah yes, Mrs. Murdoch is a fine lady. She comes
here often. One of our best patrons. Her son...” he shrugged. “... not so often. But he is
good to us when he comes.”
	“He hasn’t been here since the last time the two of you were here together,” one
of the waiters added.
	“He’s been away,” she said, hoping they weren’t thinking he had found a place
better than theirs to dine. She liked these people, and their quaint little restaurant. She
wanted them to feel they were the best.
	Again the chef was the one who nodded. “That is right. Mrs. M. was in and said
her son was out at their resort. Have you been there?”  They all stared at her, waiting
expectantly to hear if she had, and if so what it was like.
	“Yes, as a matter of fact,” she said.  She had been about to say she had just
returned, but thought better of it. This group seemed well able to jump to conclusions.
She didn’t want them thinking she had been away with Jonathan.
	“Their food?” The chef looked at her questioningly. “Is it good?”
	“Delicious,” she said, then she lifted her eyes smilingly to him.  “Just like yours. 
But of course they have the benefit of the sea air to create an appetite.  All their cooks
are local women using authentic seaside recipes.”
	The chef nodded, holding himself proudly. “Many of them I use here. Mrs. M.
gave me some of their best.”
	“Good!” Megan exclaimed. “Then I don’t have to go so far to taste the food they
serve.  But regardless, your food is delicious here!”
	They laughed at her and the chef kissed her on the cheek for her compliment.
“We knew you would come back. Some day,” he smiled. “We saw it in your eyes.”
	She remembered that day all too well. She became suddenly silent as she
thought of the meal she had shared with Jonathan there.  The chef sighed softly and
motioned the others to leave her alone.  “Give her room now to eat in peace.  She has
much to think about.”
	Not long after, as she sat dreamily by the fireside eating her seafood, she noticed
a small commotion at the door. She could not see around to the alcove there but she
assumed another customer had weathered the storm to delight this group with their
company. She paid no more attention, turning her gaze to the flickering flames of the
fire. Thus, she was surprised when one of the waiters spoke cheerfully beside her.
	“What a coincidence Miss,” he was saying. “that the two of you should come out
in this rain!”	She looked up to see what he was talking about and was met by
Jonathan’s smiling face. “We will seat you together, of course!” the waiter insisted,
holding out a chair at her table for him.  She opened her mouth to suggest that maybe
Jonathan didn’t want to join her, but he spoke before her words could escape.
	“Of course,” he said, as if there were no other option, and settled into the chair.
Peering across the table at her plate he ordered the same as she had, and when the
happy waiter left them alone, Megan found it hard to return to her food. She could feel
him staring at her and wished he would look somewhere else. His gaze seemed to burn
through to her soul.
	“What brings you here in the rain?” she asked, trying to break the deafening
silence.
	“You,” he said simply. 
	“I beg your pardon?” She didn’t understand at all.
	He laughed at her, a laughter that went right to his eyes, but he said no more.
“Eat up. You wouldn’t want the chef to think you don’t like his food.”
	“No chance of that,” she assured him, actually able to laugh. “They were
crowded around here like flies earlier, watching me eat. I don’t think they’ve had anyone
else in here all day.”
	Just then his plate arrived, brought by the chef himself, who chatted happily
without seeming to take a breath. “What a pleasant surprise. The lady and I were just
talking about you.” Megan cringed and wanted to slide under the table.  When the chef
had returned to his kitchen Jonathan turned an inquiring glance her way.
	“What were the two of you saying about me?”
	“I wasn’t talking about you, he was,” she corrected.  “ He was discussing the last
time I was here, which happened to be with you.”
	“And?” he prompted.
	“And nothing. He said he hadn’t seen you since.”
	“What did you tell him? That we had made a secret pact not to return until this
very day, to dine together once more?”
	“Don’t be ridiculous.” She shot him a glance, but she could tell he was doing it to
her again, teasing her, with that glint in his eyes. “I told him nothing of the sort. I said you
had been away.”
	“With you?”
	“Of course not. They already had the impression there was something between
us. I didn’t need to feed their curiosities. It was all I could do to try to change that
impression.”
	“Really?” He raised his brow. “What a pity. Now I shall have to lay the
groundwork all over again.”
	Before she could question him on what he meant, he leaned over and took her
hand softly in his and raised it to his lips, kissing it gently, his eyes not leaving hers.
Megan gasped and quickly looked around. Two of the waiters had seen, and were
smiling like the Cheshire Cat.
	“Please! Jonathan, they're watching us!” she whispered frantically.
	“All right,” he said, and leaned further. This time he kissed her, quite
unexpectedly, on the lips.
	“What are you doing?” she demanded.	
	“You said please.” He eyed her coyly, leaning back in his chair and smiling at her.
	“I didn’t mean... Oh!”  It was no use. He would twist everything she said, and he
was enjoying every minute of it. “Never mind,” she brooded, returning her attention to
her food.
	Jonathan followed her lead, and started to eat, but she knew his eyes never left
her. She found it difficult to keep her composure. Trying to keep her fingers from shaking
as she ate her food was difficult, and she feared she would drop everything on the floor.
	“I hoped you would be here today,” he said finally, breaking the silence.
	“Why?” she said, looking up at him shyly. “I mean, what made you think I would
be here?”
	“Those are two different questions,” he pointed out. “Which do you want an
answer to first?”
	“Oh stop being silly,” she snapped at him.
	He merely laughed. “I shall answer the second,” he said, looking thoughtfully
across the table at her. “I thought you might remember the last time we were here
together. It rained, just like this. I hoped... that it might hold some happy memories for
you like it does for me. I hoped they would draw you here.”
	She felt strangely vulnerable, as if he could read her thoughts. When she spoke,
her voice seemed small and shy. “Yes. Well, it did. But not...” she could not finish. She
could not deny what he had said, because he was right. She had been drawn here
because of the time they had spent together. But why had he known that? Why had he
hoped to find her here? She looked at him searching his face for answers, and he
nodded.
	“And the first question.” His voice was soft now, tender as he looked into her
eyes. He leaned across the table towards her. “Why did I hope I would find you here?”
He studied her for a long time while her heart pounded in her ears. Finally he grinned
and sat back, breaking the spell.  “Because I wanted to see you,” he said simply.
	She felt like screaming. No answer could have been so ineffectual. He was
driving her crazy.
	“How about a bisque?” he asked, as if forgetting their conversation completely.
He did not wait for her reply, but waved to the waiter and ordered the two soups. She did
not object, because he lad left her speechless. The waiter smiled knowingly and nodded.
She wanted to tell him it was not what he thought. It was nothing like that, but she said
nothing.  She merely smiled, then turned an accusing stare at Jonathan.
	“You are making them think this is a secret rendezvous.”
	“Good.” He seemed pleased with himself.
	She grumbled and leaned back, pouting. She should just get up and walk out on
him, see what he said then, she thought. But she knew she couldn’t move. Not a muscle
in her body would obey that command if she gave it. He wouldn’t let her leave anyway,
she thought. He would accuse her of running away again. So she sat in silence. He, on
the other hand, smiled at her like a cat who had just stolen the cream. When the soup
came he thanked the waiter politely, then turned his full attention back to her.
	“Now we are living a memory,” he said, lifting the aromatic soup to his lips,
watching her closely.	She flushed, but tasted her soup as well. She knew he was
referring to their last meal here together. That day she had told him she saw him as one
who would not take no for an answer.
	“Has your opinion of me changed at all?” he asked.
	“Not in the least,” she said, but her voice was soft and quiet.  She heard him
chuckle, and did not look at him. He said nothing for a long time as they sipped their
soups. Finally he spoke, the teasing still clear in his voice.
	“Aren’t you going to ask me why I wanted to see you?”
	“No,” she said, with all the composure she could muster. She didn’t want to
know, she told herself. Of course she immediately told herself she was lying also. She
did want to know. He had said there were memories here for him too, hadn’t he? She
looked up at him, the question in her eyes.
	He smiled at her. “Your lips say no, but your eyes say yes.” He reached across
and ran a finger gently along her cheek to the tip of her chin. Then he held her chin and
kissed her, a long and tender kiss. An almost urgent, searching kiss, that left her with no
words to speak.
	“Why did you leave Molly’s?” he asked, his voice husky now, a hint of hurt in his
eyes as he looked at her.
	“I... I was feeling better. I had to get back to work. Danny was leaving the next
day. I...”
	“Shh,” he said, laying a finger on her lips. “I came back and found you gone. I
thought maybe I had been wrong.”
	“I had to go,” she said weakly, lowering her eyes to the where her fingers
fidgeted with the tablecloth.
	“Why?” his voice was soft and low but it held an urgency that compelled her to
look at him again. “Why did you run away from me?”
	“I...” How could she tell him why? How could she tell him that she had to leave
the things that were making her love him more with each passing hour? That it hurt to
love him that much when she knew he didn’t love her?
	“I went back the other day,” he said, holding her gaze. “I was going crazy. Every
day I would think that I might see you at work. I would go in early and stay late so I’d
miss you. I knew it would break me if I saw you. But not seeing you was driving me
insane. I went back to the Cove, to get away from it all. I went to Molly’s and she fussed
over me like a child.” He frowned. “I was angry at her for it all the time.  But... I had a talk
with Kirt’s father while I was there.”
	Megan’s eyes opened wide and she stared at him, unable to breathe, a gasp choking in her throat.
	“Is it true Megan?” he asked, his gaze intense, like he was searching her soul for
an answer. She looked away, but he reached for her and turned her head gently back to
face him. “Megan. Please tell me. Is it true what he said?”
	“I... I don’t ... know what he said.”
	“Damnit Megan.” He cursed at her impatiently. “You know what he knows. Tell me...
is it true?”
	She felt tears stinging the back of her eyes. She fought his fingers to turn her
head away but he relented only a little. She opened her mouth but no sound came out,
and slowly she began to nod.  He moved like lightning, around the table beside her. His
hands were on her shoulders, holding her firmly. A million emotions seemed to cross his
face, but the most evident was that of a great stress having been lifted from him.
	“Oh Megan!” he groaned under his breath.
	“Jonathan!” she whispered, embarrassed. “Everybody is watching us.”
	“Who cares!” he said, drawing her from her chair towards a little bench by the
fire. “Now that I know you love me.”
	“Jonathan, I...” She felt the need to explain something, but she had no idea what.
But there was no chance, as he silenced her with a kiss, his arms wrapped around her,
his voice whispering near her ear.
	“I love you Megan.”
	“What?” she pushed him away so she could see his face. “What did you say?”
	He laughed. “I said I love you, little fool. I always have. Since the day I saw you
standing like a petrified little bird on my doorstep. Sitting in the tub with bubbles up to
your neck.  Clinging to the covers in the bed in my guest room.” He groaned, as if to tell
her it had taken him all his strength not to climb in that bed with her. “Can’t you see?
That’s why I was so angry when I thought you and Danny...” He shook his head. “I was
so jealous I wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t let you explain. When you told me you were going to
the Cove, I just had to follow you there, even though I knew... thought.. I couldn’t have
you.”
	“You... you loved me that first day?” She stared at him in shock, still trying to
register the first of his words while the rest of them slowly seeped through.
	He nodded. “And those nights, when I held you, I knew you wanted me, and I
wanted you. But you broke away. Why Megan? Why, if you loved me too?”
	“I couldn’t,” she croaked, her voice failing her. “I thought you didn’t love me. I
thought you just wanted...” She squeezed her eyes shut tightly against the tears. “I
couldn’t make love with someone who didn’t love me.”
	He kissed her hungrily then, his hands caressing her, tugging through her hair,
pulling her head back to let his lips trail tantalizingly down her neck. “Little fool,” he
whispered again. “That day when I had to stay in the cave with you for hours, while you
were unconscious. It was torture. All I could do was hold you, cradle you. Your head was
bleeding... a lot... and I was so scared I wouldn’t get you out in time, so afraid I’d lost
you. I kept looking at you, laying there helpless in my arms. It was the first time in my
adult life that I felt out of control, unable to do a damn thing to help you.  I thought about
what would have happened if I had arrived too late. If Tom had been any where in sight
when I got out of there I would have flattened him.” He looked away for a moment, as if
visualizing the moment. “You spoke my name.”
	“Did I?” she said softly.	
	He nodded. “I thought it might mean something when my name was the one that
penetrated your subconscious. I hoped. That’s why I took you to Molly’s. I hoped I could
make you trust me again if I took you there, and then maybe... maybe you would love
me back.”
	“I had to go, Jonathan,” she said, now feeling an urgent need to explain her
actions. “I did love you. I loved you so much, it hurt to be there, thinking you didn’t even
like me.”
	“I know that now. He told me, Kirt’s father. He was the only one who knew why
you really left.” He took a deep breath. “That’s when Mother came in. She came to the
office and I hadn’t been back very long. I was preoccupied, trying to figure out how I was
going to convince you. When she took you out, and brought you back to the house... I
couldn’t believe she had brought you to me. I wanted to talk to you then, but you
seemed so distant.
	“You asked me then, when I was going to stop running away,” she said, looking
into his eyes. “I’m not running anymore.”
	His soft laughter broke the tension, and he seemed to relax. “You know, I was so
anxious when I came here. I thought, if it were true you would have to come here. I
hoped beyond hope. When I came in, and they brought me to you, I knew I had found
you again. I knew I was never going to let you go again.”  He drew her close into his
arms and kissed her, oblivious to the crowd of waiters gathered at the other end of the
restaurant watching them.
	“I told you they were more than just friends,” the head waiter said, winking. Then
they all turned and left the couple alone, quietly slipping into the kitchen, a smile on
every one of their faces. Neither Megan, nor Jonathan, noticed.