Julia
The sun streamed between the tall buildings as we walked south on Rush Street, my hand in Van’s. The sidewalks were something I adored about Chicago. My picture had recently been on multiple news outlets. Donovan Sherman was a well-known businessman, and amongst the crowds of people we could be ourselves. People passed by completely lost in their own bubbles, unaware or uncaring of who was with them. There was a tranquilness in anonymity. For a few minutes among a crowd, we could simply be.
“I was wrong,” I said as we passed Connors Park.
Van’s cheeks had pinkened in the cool air. He turned to me, his green gaze drinking me in. “Tell me how you could be wrong.”
“You told me this morning not to let Chicago bother me. I was. You knew that better than I did. And I was wrong.” I lifted my chin to the cobalt-blue sky, feeling the cool breeze on my cheeks. “Chicago isn’t bothersome. It’s only a city.”
“I lived here, long ago.”
“You did? Where?”
“Not in the city. I lived west, near Schaumburg. I had an office in the city. My striving for more and better encouraged me to buy into the illusion that to be powerful you must be located in a big and powerful city.”
Beneath the layers of coats and gloves, my skin electrified and my heart beat a steady rhythm at hearing Van speak, sharing even a small part of his past. I supposed this was information I could find in my research but reading it in a document paled in comparison to his spontaneous willingness to confide in me. “Did you drive every day into the city or did you ride the train?”
He smiled. “I had a car, but most of the time, I rode the train. I wanted more, but I also understood that I was on a quest with a shoestring budget. The train had multiple benefits. I could do work during the commute. It’s why if I lived here now, I’d have a driver. Too much time is wasted in traffic.”
My thoughts went to his home. “You don’t have a driver in Ashland.”
Van’s laugh came out in a vapor. “I like to drive.” He tilted his head toward the street congested with cars. “That isn’t driving. It’s sitting.”
“How long ago was this?”
Van exhaled as his lips came together. “Around twenty years ago.”
Scoffing, I shook my head.
His tenor filled with amusement. “I suppose that would have made you four years old.”
“Oh, you should have looked me up back then. I had the cutest pigtails.”
“While I was obsessing with more, you were obsessing with…?” He left the question open-ended.
I hummed. “At four years old…let me think.” It was impossible to be certain of anything when I was that young. But something from my childhood stood out. “I believe it was Belle. I also wanted to be Mulan. They’re Disney princesses,” I added for reference.
Van squeezed my hand, tugging me toward him. “I know who they are. My niece went through a Disney phase.” He looked up at the sky and back. “I’m not that removed from pop culture.” He grinned down at me. “I can see that combination of Belle and Mulan in you.”
“You should have seen me running around with a shield and sword in a golden ballgown.”
“And pigtails.”
His laugh rumbled through me.
“That’s you, Julia, to a T. You’re strong and brave, willing to risk it all for your family while at the same time being beautiful and feminine.”
“I also have the urge to climb the ladder in your library and break out in song.”
“Now that I want to see.”
We came to a stop at the corner of Rush and East Chicago Avenue.
“Are we close?”
“We’re close. And our appointment is in ten minutes. We’re also on time.”
Turning again on Michigan Avenue, we made our way past Ralph Lauren. Van slowed as we approached Victoria’s Secret.