She wanted to know more.
“For research purposes,” she said, acting as if her interest in him was purely clinical, so she could play the role he’d assigned, “you really call your nephew Garfunkel? What’s his real name?”
“I think it might be Daniel,” Jonas said, pretending not to know. “The other one may be Henry. No, Harry.”
She laughed, and she could tell that was his intent.
“Boring names to be sure,” he continued. “I tried to tell Theresa we could have a family contest to name them, but she’s a bit of a spoilsport that way. She seemed to think naming kids was a serious business.”
“It is!” Krissy said sternly.
“Uh-huh,” he teased her, unconvinced. “When’s the last time you laughed like today, Krissy?”
She cast about for an answer. She couldn’t find one, which she thought was thoroughly pathetic.
“I teach kindergarten,” she said. “There’s a laugh a day, for sure.”
But his gaze on her seemed to be finding a deeper truth. “You said the other night your family wasn’t fun. You said a war zone. I’m really sorry.”
She did not want his pity! And yet, his gaze on her, steady, did not hold pity. Sympathy perhaps, definitely compassion. Why did she feel suddenly compelled to tell him the truth?
Maybe so his expectations of her at his family reunion wouldn’t be too high.
“The only fun in my family was in the word dysfunctional.” What had possessed her to say that? Did she think he would laugh? He didn’t. The look in his eyes, the one that made her want to confide in him, deepened.
“My mother and father did not like each other. They got married because they had to. And the reason they had to was me, the unexpected pregnancy. It was a war zone. They divorced, finally, when I was in my teens, but in some ways that made things worse. I was suddenly at the very centre of every single disagreement. It seemed I was the club they liked to hit each other with.”
He sat up on his elbow. He looked down at her. He traced the line of her cheek with a gentle finger.
“Oh, Krissy,” he said. “Oh, Krissy.”
And for some reason, the way he said her name made her glad she had told him, instead of sorry.
It was a part of revealing who she really was, the masks coming off. But being totally authentic with another human being created a feeling of intimacy—of trust—that felt even deeper than if they had given in to the temptation to kiss. She was not quite sure she was ready for this.
“So there you have it,” she said, trying for a breezy tone. “The reason I, personally, will never get married.”
She brushed his finger away from her cheek as if it was a bothersome fly. She leaped to her feet. The dog reluctantly lifted its head from Jonas’s lap and gazed at her.
“I had my aunt,” she said firmly. “It might not have been the rowdy kind of fun you just described, but she was the one who saved me, and almost everything we did together was pure fun. She unlocked the secrets of New York for me—the Russian Tea Room, Broadway and, of course, Fifth Avenue.”
Jonas looked unconvinced, somehow, that adult excursions with her aunt had replaced the joys of a boisterous family.
“Did you ever do kid things? Ride a bike, play in the mud?”
“Oh, uh, occasionally. I should probably get going,” she said, flustered, hating it that he seemed to be able to see her deepest longing. “Home. I have things to do.”
Jonas sat up lazily, then stood, brushing grass from his slacks. His hair was slightly rumpled, as if he’d had a nap. In such a self-contained man, the mussy hair was adorable.
But then adorable went out the window as he turned his back to her. “Did I get it all?”
She was in bad enough shape without being asked to inspect the seat of his pants. “Yes,” she said, her voice a squeak.
“What kind of things do you have to do?” Jonas asked, turning back to her. She was pretty sure he noticed the blush.
He was going to find out the truth! She played it safe. She was boring! But wasn’t that part of what today had ended up being about? Revealing truth?
“I’m doing a spring art project with the kids on Monday. It involves some prep.”
“What is it?”
“I’m making them into a garden: each of them will be a flower, with a big cutout that they put their face through. They’ll sing a song at assembly next week.”
He grinned. “I hope there will be a video.”
“And I have to get Aunt Jane’s affairs sorted out. I’ve been procrastinating. I have to get back into her office and box things up. I’ve given notice already, so I have to get out of there.”
He nodded. “Okay. I get it.”
She thought of his car and the way he dressed. She didn’t know, really, anything about him yet. But he looked like he would be at least as busy as she was and probably more so.
“We’ll walk back. I just thought ice cream was on the agenda.” He said it hopefully, and it was his hopefulness that did her in.
She had revealed so much of her authentic self to him: some strengths, that inner warrior coming out, and some weaknesses, the childhood on a battlefield that didn’t include any water balloons.
And he still wanted to spend time with her? Still, he was willing to put his busy life on hold for more time together?
Something sighed within Krissy. A sigh of pure surrender.
“There’s always time for ice cream,” she decided, and she was rewarded with his smile, a smile that a person could become utterly addicted to—a smile that could make every other activity and responsibility seem dull and uninteresting—before they even knew what had happened.
* * *
Jonas wasn’t
