I loved this city, and loved it best at times like this when the past hovered a breath away from the present. For all its energy, New York had nothing to match it. In Philadelphia, you remembered how the country began. You remembered the hopes and dreams, and you ached a little when they went awry.
I stifled a sigh. The unseasonably warm air brushed like * willows against my cheeks. To our left, a shimmer of scarlet fire trembled on the skyline, the dying embers of a breathtaking winter sunset. The twin art deco towers of Liberty Place
glowed lime and gold and tropical blue - the best of new Philly looming over the best of old Philly. Here in the historic part of town, wreaths graced the doors of Library Hall - red-bowed reminders of Christmas.
I wondered if I were about to get my first, worst present.
When we reached the" square, Joe hired a horse-drawn carriage. He helped me into the plush red seat like a fragile Victorian maiden.
'Just drive,' he said, when the man began his tourist spiel.
His instruction increased the pressure on my nerves. A quiet carriage ride around the prettiest part of town should have been romantic, but I knew it wasn't going to be. My pulse raced as we clopped past the clock and bell tower at Independence Hall. A gaggle of schoolchildren bounced in circles around their harried teacher.
"Thomas Jefferson was a wimp,' one little boy declared, obviously unimpressed by the story of how our constitution was signed. Under other circumstances, I would have laughed. Now all I could manage was a: cough. Joe didn't seem to notice.
'I don't know how to say this,’ he said. He pressed his temples as though they pained him, then turned sideways on the seat and pulled my hands into his lap. The evening was too warm for gloves. His palms were sweating. 'Kate.' He gripped me harder, apparently at a loss for words.
Dread trickled down my spine like icy rainwater. I knew he had to go, but I was going to miss him something awful.
He broke the silence with a shaky exhalation. 'Kate,’ he began again. 'Would you marry me?'
My mouth fell open. I couldn't believe I'd heard him correctly. I was so shocked I did the absolute worst thing I could have done. I laughed.
It wasn't a big laugh, but it succeeded in bringing a dull red flush to the tips of his ears.
'Well,’ he said. 'Forgive me for suggesting something so ridiculous.'
'No, no, no.' My hands fluttered to his shoulders, patting uselessly. 'It's just you're so young.' 'Not too young to fuck.'
Our driver's head jerked but, to his credit, he didn't turn around. I smoothed the worn leather breast of Joe's bomber jacket. 'No. Just too young to marry. I'm not going to stand between you and your future - your future in New York.'
He must have heard the sadness in my words and found it cause for hope. He caught my hands and tucked them inside his jacket. His heart was pounding at marathon speed.
'I don't have to move to New York. I could commute. I could! It's only an hour on the train. I've got a cousin in the Bronx if I need to stay over.' He stroked the back of my hands, his eyes pleading for the mercy he feared I'd withhold. 'I don't want to leave without a commitment between us.'
My fingers tensed with my urge to comfort him. Nervous sweat dampened his freshly-ironed white shirt, donned for the occasion, I'm sure. My heart ached, but I knew I couldn't afford to be soft.
'What about Sean?' I said.
'I'm not in love with Sean.'
I rolled my eyes. 'Trust me, Joe, the kind of love that friends share, that you and Sean share, lasts a hell of a lot longer than being in love. "In love" is just infatuation.'
His hands stiffened on mine. 'Don't tell me how I feel.'
'Fine. Maybe what you feel will last, but you're still too young.' The way his jaw clenched did not encourage me. I forged ahead anyway. 'Listen, honey, you went straight from your parents' house to college to postgraduate school. You don't know it, but you've barely started to live. You need to be on your own in the real world. You need to have a few adventures.'
'Adventures.' Joe's eyes narrowed. I hadn't known whisky-brown irises could look so cold. 'You mean if I fuck a few dozen New Yorkers, I'll be old enough then.'
'It's got nothing to do with how many people you sleep with.' I glanced at our driver. If ears could swivel backwards, I'm certain his would have done. I lowered my voice. 'What's important is discovering what life is about. What you're about. That takes time, and it's something you have to do for yourself, by -'
'-by myself.' He pushed my hands from his chest. Bookbinder's Restaurant rolled by behind him, the giant lobster over its entrance a comic counterpoint to our discussion. Joe studied his empty hands. 'I've never been good at being alone.'
'All the more reason.' I swallowed against the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn't so positive I'd given him the right answer, the only answer. I cupped my hand beneath his downcast chin. 'I know you're nervous, but you're going to take the Big Apple by storm.'
'And then I'll come back.'
My mouth softened with an almost-smile. 'I doubt you'll want to.'