Free Speak Now by Chautona Havig

I certainly wasn’t going to wait around though.” She glanced at him curiously. “So, did you feel like grabbing garbage sacks and purging all my clutter?”
    “I felt a little smothered here and there… What’s with no cabinet doors in the kitchen? If you sell someday, won’t you have to buy new ones?”
    “I wrapped them and put them in the garage. I liked the look of open shelving like a vintage kitchen. It looked cool with my apple green walls and the pink Depression glass. I’ve just started collecting Jadite too.”
    Before he could stop himself, the question jumped from his throat. “You need more to collect?” Red crept up Jonathan’s neck and into his ears even before the question had a chance to connect with her consciousness.
    Laughing, she grinned. “I like it. It makes me smile to see something that other families used once upon a time sitting in my cupboard just waiting for me to use it.”
    “Do you ever get rid of anything?”
    “Clothes. When I’m done with them, they go to a clothing closet at the mission.”
    “What about your old dishes—the ones you had before the pink stuff. What did you do with them?”
    “They’re in a box in the garage,” she admitted. “I didn’t know anyone who needed them, so I just kept them.”
    “No thrift store or garage sale?” Why he pushed the matter, Jonathan didn’t know. He did realize, however, that he was not just talking, but he was leading a conversation. It felt strangely exhilarating. “ Just curious.”
    “I’ve never thought about it much. So, is that all you did, check out my doorless cupboards and my bedroom?”
    A couple of teens walking past snickered as they overheard that last snippet of conversation. Jonathan’s ears flamed brighter and Cara laughed even louder. “I love it when you’re embarrassed. Come on, tell me; what did you think of my house—all of it? I want to know what you learned about me today.” She hesitated and lowered her voice, pulling his ear closer as she did. “I have to take advantage of your willingness to talk.”
    He began to protest, but her eyes pleaded with him. “Well, the first thing I noticed when I walked in was that you like antiques. I mean, I noticed that the other night, but even more so today. You have antique collections everywhere. Linens, those little egg cups that my grandma used to use, thimbles, old books, clocks— What is with the clocks everywhere?”
    “I like clocks—especially ones you wind.”
    “I noticed they are all perfectly synchronized. Do you wind them all every day?”
    She nodded, grinning. “Or every week for some. I love my little clocks.” Before she could ask another question, she lurched to the side, nearly falling. Jonathan, without missing a beat, grabbed her around the waist and steadied her for a moment before he let his arm fall naturally to his side again.
    “You okay?”
    One look at her expression and he knew what she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—say. Yes, he had physically saved her from a face full of concrete, but somehow in that moment, she realized—as did he—that she had fallen and she’d fallen hard. “Depends on what you mean,” she muttered under her breath. “So that doesn’t tell me what you learned about me.”
    “I keep trying not to fall, too, but I’m not doing any better than you are, Cara mia.” He spoke with a quiet firmness—no embarrassment or hesitation in his voice—choosing each word with deliberate care. They fell from his lips more freely than most words ever did for Jonathan Lyman.
    With a nod of understanding, Cara redirected the conversation to safer territory. “What did you learn about me that you hadn’t guessed?”
    “Well, your fridge intrigued me.” He still didn’t know what to make of it, but her carbs comment made him curious. “Okay, is this the kebob place?”
    Hands full of shrimp, beef, chicken, vegetable, and even grilled fruit kebobs, Jonathan led them to a nearby bench where an