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I must have zoned the moment people stopped approaching and Noah’s big hand dropped onto my shoulder. “Hey, feel like grabbing some dinner and eating in my truck?”
Awkward, but oh, so appreciated. “Definitely.”
****
Jimmy Cliff provided some background ambience as I sat across from Noah in the cab of his truck. I’d twisted around with one leg under me and my back to the door, paper plate on my lap. It wasn’t ideal, but I was so thankful to be out of the building that the slight inconvenience didn’t even compute. He’d turned on the heat, so the cozy inside wrapped itself around me. Sleepiness pulled at the corner of my eyes, but I blinked it away.
We ate in companionable silence, and it occurred to me that we’d kind of picked up where we’d left off. The initial awkwardness had dissipated and the familiar comfort of a previous friendship had returned.
“Noah?” The question had tangoed in front of me since I first saw him.
“Hmmm?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Never, but go ahead.” He scraped the last tidbit of dressing off his plate with a plastic fork.
“Why did you really come back to the island?” My own empty plate rested in my lap as I stared at him, curious. “When we were kids, you always talked about escaping. What happened?”
He didn’t respond for several long moments. When his silence stretched, I stepped in again. “It’s okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“No, it’s fine.” Noah stared from the shadows, past me and out into the pervasive darkness beyond the window. “I can’t talk much about this … I just can’t, but after Afghanistan, and after … some of the repercussions, I decided that this island is my safe place. It’s my touchstone now. Like I said before, I still do like to see new places, I really do, but I need to have my home to come back to. Especially now. Does that make sense?”
My eyes burned and my stomach twisted in nausea at the quiet pain in his voice and what he’d alluded to. There was no way I could put myself in his place, or imagine the horrors he must have witnessed, but the idea and comfort of homecoming was something that had begun to weave its way into my heart.That, I could understand. “It does. I’m very sorry, Noah.”
He shifted his line of sight down to his hands. The burning in my eyes turned to a glaze of tears when I saw the slight tremble. Without a lot of thought, I tossed my empty plate on the dashboard and scooted closer to take one hand in both of mine. “I can’t imagine what it must have been like, but I’ve got a pretty patient and compassionate ear, if you ever need to talk.”
With the speed of a striking viper, he grabbed my wrist. His face slipped further into the shadows and all I could see was a crinkled brow and hard glittering eyes. I gasped and tried to pull away, but he held on. Panic kicked up my heart rate, but he softened his grip mere seconds later. “I’m sorry, Klahanie. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just … sometimes have some issues.”
The intensity around his eyes fell away when he moved a little closer and into the ambient light. Misery took its place. “I appreciate the offer. Maybe I’ll take you up on it sometime if I’m drunk enough.”
I pulled in a deep, calming breath, still a little spooked, but as I gazed at him, any residual fear went away. “It’s okay, Noah. I would never push you.”
He let go of my wrist, and nodded. “I think I’m officially peopled out. I can give you a lift back to the farm, unless you need to stay a little longer? Or, if you wanted to, we could watch a movie or something at my place.”
Since Gram and friends had done all the cooking, another group of islanders had volunteered for cleanup, so I was technically off the hook. I just wasn’t sure going home with Noah was the best choice.
“I’ll be a good boy.” His relaxed, puppy-dog smile returned. “I promise.”
I debated, knowing the right, the wrong, and the in-between had blurred. I expected I was being an idiot, but everything in me didn’t want to let go of him tonight, at least not yet. At that moment, I knew I’d be sending a text to Gram and Sunny. “Sure. As long as you’re a good boy.”
Noah drew an “X” on his chest. When I flashed a peace sign back, he ignited the truck’s motor and backed from the space.
“Like I said before, the place is a work-in-progress. Upstairs is basically finished, and downstairs is about half-way there.” He talked about his additional plans for the old place, and threw in some amusing construction woes, before we moved on to other topics. Conversation stayed relaxed and easy, as it always had before, until he stopped cold.
“Noah?”
His expression fell again and he said nothing for several long minutes. Finally, he glanced over at me. “I don’t know if I can do this tonight, after all. I’m sorry.”
Confused, I shook my head. “Um, it’s okay. If you’re not up to hanging out, don’t worry about it.”
“I’m sorry.”
We drove the rest of the way to the farm in silence, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable, not exactly. Understanding had replaced my confusion, and he seemed to react to the change, his relief evident. Depression and, likely, PTSD explained a lot. From what I’d read, sudden shifts weren’t uncommon.
He dropped me off at the farm, said a quick goodnight, and drove off.
Chapter Twenty-One
