Through the Flames (The Lost Letters #1)

11. Lilly

Chapter 11

Lilly

T o say I’m exhausted would be an understatement.

After the funeral yesterday, the three of us crashed on the couch, and we’ve barely done anything else since. Nellie hasn’t even felt up to working through a school lesson, which is both sad and helpful. I hate that she’s absorbing mine and Chrsitine’s emotions as well as having to process her own, but I can’t say I have the energy to do any schoolwork with her either.

It’s going on afternoon now, and I’m finally starting to feel more like myself. I take another deep breath of the warm summer air before picking up my phone. I came outside to finally talk to Noah about our next steps. Christine and Nellie are making soap for the store while I find my courage. A part of me is cracking up over the idea that Christine is doing stuff for her business in my mother’s kitchen. Mom would’ve gone into shock if she’d seen that.

I’m stalling. I recognize that. Why I’m nervous to talk to Noah about this isn’t clear. Maybe it’s because I’ve spent years believing he didn’t want anything to do with Nellie. As much as I would like it to be, getting rid of those emotions won’t be as easy as snapping my fingers.

I send him a text to see if he’s free first. I’d say it’s because I don’t want to waste my time calling if he’s busy, but really, I’m just pushing this conversation off for as long as possible. Naturally, he calls me immediately.

“Hey,” I answer.

“Hi,” he replies softly. Even just hearing his voice calms my nerves a bit. “How are you holding up?”

I sigh. “I’m hanging in there.”

“And Nellie?”

“She’s okay. Christine is distracting her right now while we talk. I’m going to tell her about you tonight.”

“You are?” The surprise in his voice makes me a little sad.

“I’ve wanted to since we first figured out what happened, but between coming to Sonoma for the first time and having to work through the idea of her grandparents being gone, I didn’t want to add more to her full plate. She’s started coming around this afternoon, though, and I don’t want to wait any longer.”

“Thank you. Would you let me know how it goes? If she’s mad at me or sad or whatever, I want to be prepared.”

“Sure.” Silence hangs heavy through the phone. “I’m not sure where we go from here.”

Noah blows out an audible breath. “Me neither. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the idea that we have a kid together. I guess I just…” He pauses as if he’s trying to get his thoughts together. “I want a chance to get to know her. I want to learn everything about her.”

“That’s easily done, but there’s something you should know first.”

“What’s that?”

“Nellie is on the autism spectrum. She was never formally diagnosed, she’s too high functioning to meet the full criteria, but our pediatrician has been helpful in treating her as if she does have the diagnosis. I’m telling you this because she struggles to meet new people or go places she’s never been before. It takes a lot of prep work for her to feel comfortable in some situations. That’s why I can’t just have you come over and spring it on her.”

“I can understand why you’d want to take your time. I’d rather our first meeting be positive than meet her on my impatient terms.”

“Thank you for understanding.”

“How about you and I have dinner tomorrow night, and you can tell me everything about her? It would give us time to talk about what our next steps look like, as well. And I’d honestly rather do that in person than over the phone.”

“That’s probably a good idea. How about we meet at La Mensa? I’ve been craving their food since I got into town.”

Noah chuckles. “I’ll text you with the reservation details.”

“Okay. Bye, Noah.”

“Bye, Bumblebee.”

I hang up the phone with butterflies fluttering in my stomach. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that nickname. I can’t even remember how I got it now, but I have the same feelings in my stomach that I used to get when he’d call me that.

I head back inside to see the dining room table full of junk. Christine and Nellie are working away, mixing up batches of soap as if they’re brewing potions.

Christine looks up from the table. “Everything go okay?”

A genuine smile pulls across my face. “Yeah, it did. We’re going to have dinner to catch up.”

“That sounds like a great plan. You should take one of your mom’s photo albums for him.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea. I know she’s got at least one in the office. I’ll go find it.” Once I step into the room, I frown. It’s an even bigger mess than when I left it last. Papers I’d already organized are scattered on the floor, and the files that were stacked on Dad’s desk are spread across the surface. A frustrated breath explodes from my lungs. Nellie must’ve come in here looking for some blank paper or something.

It’s going to take me forever to redo all the work I’ve already done. Normally, she’s more careful than this. She hates when I mess with her piles of things, so she’s usually good at asking for something if she can’t find it. I guess she didn’t want to take the time to ask for help.

Ignoring the mess, I scan through the bookshelves to find the album I want. Anger at my mother threatens to overwhelm me. She kept pictures of her great-great aunts or whoever but threw away pictures of Oliver and me. It never fails to piss me off when I think about it.

“Ah, there it is,” I murmur to myself. I pull the red leather album off the shelf and flip it open to a page in the middle. I laugh at the first picture I see. Nellie is hanging upside down on the monkey bars at the park with the biggest grin on her face. Mom is standing next to her with a stern expression, likely telling her to get down. I bet Dad took this picture to make Mom mad. The fact that she put it in the album is astonishing, given how she hated pictures of herself, but the look on Nellie’s face is probably why she did it.

I take the book with me out of the office. Nellie will probably want to look at it before I give it to Noah. Now, I just need to tell my daughter about her father. I have a feeling she’s going to take this news in stride like she does most things.