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Shehadinvited him to dinner at the end of the semester... Was it possible she’d moved away that day becauseshewas attracted tohim?
No.
This was Grace Ebert, he told himself. She had been repulsed by him from almost the moment they’d met. The dinner was merely a thank-you, as she’d said. A show of appreciation. Possibly pity.
Platonic.
Not a date.
In spite of his good mood going into the holiday, Thanksgiving had been a disaster, as usual. His mom had been a mess, striving to make everything perfect for his perfect brother and Matt’s high-society, high-maintenance girlfriend, Anabella. Noah had struggled through a day and a half of his mother’s special blend of anxiety and nonstop fawning over the power couple before he’d resorted to blaming schoolwork for an early departure. Unfortunately, Matt and Anabella had left around the same time, rendering his mother even more depressed and anxious and alone than she had been before the holiday. She had called Noah repeatedly that evening until he’d finally answered, and then she’d spent the call rethinking everything about the abbreviated visit and begging more than once for Noah’s assurance that her future daughter-in-law wouldn’t hate her. This had persisted throughout the weekend, until Noah had again stopped answering her calls. After that she had text-bombed him mercilessly.
Add into that mess the anniversary of his dad’s death and his mom’s insistence that he accompany her to the cemetery, and it became obvious why his walls had been so ineffective in his next meeting with Grace. He’d been reading a text from his mom, racking his brain for a legitimate-sounding excuse to avoid the cemetery when Grace had walked through the math lab doors, refreshed from her break with her perfect family and glowing with the belated discovery that, yes, she could do math. Her account of stargazing with her father had helped Noah understand where her interest in science originated from, sparking a flame of sadness and envy so strong he could hardly breathe.
And then he’d gone and spilled the beans about his alcoholic father.
To Grace.
After weeks and weeks of keeping his walls up, resisting her attractions, and maintaining his disinterest in all things personal, he had confided his deepest wound—one even Ryan didn’t know the full story on—to Grace, of all people.
If she hadn’t already been disgusted by him, that would have tipped things against him for good. What could she possibly know about such things, with her perfect life and family?
Only... she had asked him outaftershe knew. His past hadn’t turned her away. It had brought them closer—or it might have, if Noah had allowed it.
What if, instead of berating Grace and throwing her dinner offer back in her face, he had accepted? A scene formed in his mind of them together at dinner, laughing about the awkwardness of their beginnings and the irony of his winding up as her tutor.
No.
He pulled his thoughts back to the barren sameness outside his window. There could be no rewriting of the past. He’d thoroughly burned that bridge, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Chapter 30
Murphy’s Law
Several hours later, when theyexited the dusty highway, the entire crew perked up. Banter and anticipation swelled, windows opened to let in the tangy ocean air, and James Taylor’s “Mexico” played through the van’s crackly speakers.
Noah drew in a lungful of the salty heat and listened to the lyrics. If onlyhecouldleave behind all the things that bothered him...
Why not? None of these people knew him. What better time would there be to step out of his shell? He had been a more personable version of himself at times in the past, like during his summer in Ghana. He could do it again. It might even stick this time.
Chad drove through the streets of a small town as Jane navigated, finally winding down a barely discernible, packed-dirt lane that deposited them in front of a tall, white iron fence. A large gate broke its lines, iron letters at its top declaring itHogar Para Niños, which according to Noah’s Sesame Street–learned Spanish skills, had something to do with children.
The group quieted as they got out of the van, not sure how to proceed. Noah stretched his cramped limbs, thankful to be cage free, and took stock of his surroundings.
An old Jeep Cherokee with Colorado plates sat next to the van, and Noah vaguely recalled Jane saying something about the rest of their group meeting them at the orphanage. Low, brightly painted buildings stretching back from either end of the white fence surrounded a large courtyard with a dry fountain at the center. Cement pathways marked the courtyard’s covered perimeter and crossed the hard-packed earth to meet at the fountain. Everything was neat and tidy, the sandy soil freshly raked. A building at the far end of the courtyard rose higher than the others, a simple cross adorning its domed roof. Chattering children gathered in the shade, probably getting to know the earlier arrivals.
Noah followed the flow of his group into the courtyard, butterflies in his stomach. Alec launched immediately into Spanish, greeting the staff and ruffling a boy’s hair as he spoke.
Jane embraced a petite Mexican woman in a simple light-blue dress with a dark-blue vest. The woman’s countenance radiated kindness, her bronze face deeply lined with evidence of her good nature. A man in his fifties smiled at her side, reaching out to shake Jane’s hand.
Noah stood with the other non-Spanish-speaking newbies, not sure what to do with himself until Jane reached out with introductions.
“Noah,” she said, “this is Sister Margaretta, the leader of the orphanage. She speaks very little English. And this”—she smiled toward the man—“is Oscar. He’ll be supervising the building project.”
“Hola, señor Noah,” Oscar said, shaking Noah’s hand as Jane introduced them.
“Hola,” Noah replied, exhausting his supply of Spanish.
“Noah will be a great help to you with the building,” Jane explained to Oscar in English.
