Chapter 22 #4
“You’re kidding.” I clicked my tongue. Perkins had been the police chief of Avila Falls for the past four decades.
There had never been a pressing need for law enforcement in the town, given that the craziest things to happen in all my years here were when a couple of high schoolers TP’d the trees in Colores Park or when a few teenage boys put a taxidermized elk inside the principal’s office at Avila High.
But Officer Perkins had always taken his job of protecting the residents of the town seriously. Perhaps a bit too seriously.
“But don’t worry,” Noah reassured me, “he’ll be doing his Santa appearance at the harvest festival until he goes to be with God.” We both laughed.
A few moments later, I spotted something I didn’t recognize: Obscure Coffee.
Noah halted at a stop sign, allowing me a better look.
Dim lights illuminated the small space that used to be a travel agency, which had never not been empty.
It looked as though the whole place had been totally renovated.
Where cheesy travel posters used to hang was instead a vibrant mural.
The outdated carpeting had been torn out, leaving the concrete floors bare; instead of a bulky computer monitor, there was a retro coffee machine.
A few millennial employees donning name-brand beanies, probably California transplants, wiped down tables and cleaned the pastry case.
“What’s that? A new coffee place?” I motioned. Noah followed my gesture and slowed to a stop.
“Oh, yeah, I guess you wouldn’t have been here since that opened,” he said. “Avila Falls, always about ten years behind the times, got its first hipster coffee shop a few years ago.”
Unlike towns with ski slopes, concert venues, or colleges, there was no huge tourist draw in Avila Falls. This meant that, yes, our little mountain town did tend to run behind the times. But that also made it feel like Colorado’s best-kept secret.
“Pretty good coffee, honestly. Those hipsters know what they’re doing,” Noah commented before continuing down the street. “And here, to your right, you’ll see our statue of Saint Teresa of Avila, the town’s namesake.”
A modest bronze statue of the young saint stood draped in robes on the eastern entrance of Colores Park. I’d found her kind face, shrouded by her head covering, intriguing as a little girl. Despite the town being named after her, most residents didn’t really know who she was.
“She wrote The Interior Castle,” I thought out loud.
There was something about the title that had always caught my attention.
I still wasn’t entirely sure what it was supposed to mean, but an interior castle to my introverted self sounded beautiful.
It made being locked away in my inner world sound more appealing and less lonely.
I wasn’t lost in thought or in the clouds, I was wandering the corridors of my interior castle—much better.
“Have you read it?” Noah asked.
“I haven’t,” I admitted. “Have you?”
“I did a few years ago, when I was in my mystic saint phase,” he shrugged with a smile, putting his foot back on the gas. “I could lend you my copy, if you wanted to read it. You’d probably like it.”
“I wouldn’t say no to that.” I eyed him. Not only was he leading worship at church, but he was also reading books by saints? There was far more to Noah Elliot than I’d ever known.
A couple doors down, I spotted She Is Glamour & Grace, the one-stop shop for all grooming, personal care, and beauty products—and one of my teenage self’s least favorite places in Avila Falls.
It was, after all, the site of many visits that my mom had dragged me along to, asking if I was absolutely positive I didn’t want a simple tube of mascara or even just a tinted lip balm, to which I always said no: “It might help you feel more confident, honey. Are you sure?”
What I didn’t tell her was my reason for refusing to wear even an ounce of cosmetics: Makeup was for pretty, popular girls. Not girls like me.
Besides, She Is Glamour & Grace was also the place where Alice Sullivan, Noah’s high school girlfriend, had worked part time. The last thing fifteen-year-old Jane needed was a beautiful girl like Alice checking her out with the boxes of pimple cream her mom had insisted on buying for her.
I shifted in my seat as we drove by and stole a peek at Noah. He glanced over at me, and my eyes dashed away.
“Hey, I know where we need to go next,” he said.
“Where?”
“You’ll see.” He took a left off the main road. Were we heading to a secret lookout he knew? Were we going to stargaze? Giddiness bubbled up in my chest as I wondered what he had in mind. Until we turned onto a road I knew, and the giddiness was quickly replaced by tightness.
He’s not going where I think he is . . . is he?
A few twists and turns later through a clearing of trees, a familiar sight came into view: the entrance to Avila High, the place I hadn’t visited since I graduated over a decade ago—something I’d done very much on purpose.
There had been enough opportunities to attend a reunion over the years, but I had no interest in going anywhere near the site of my most painfully awkward years.
I had swiftly deleted every email invitation from the school.
“Remember this place?” Noah teased.
Yes, but I wish I didn’t.
“Mmhmm,” I murmured. The school’s vibrant brick facade and arched windows reminiscent of its old Western roots loomed before me. I dug my nails into my palm.
“It’s been a while, huh?” Noah slipped into a parking spot directly in front.
“Since graduation,” I said.
He looked over at me in surprise. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope.” I shook my head, fighting to seem nonchalant rather than rattled.
My eyes fell on the cluster of trees off to the side of the school’s lot that I’d sat underneath during lunch sometimes when the loneliness of the cafeteria got to be too much.
Avila High had more than enough tall pines surrounding it, but these few trees felt especially private.
I could be all alone in secret, not in plain sight.
I would take a book with me, tuck myself beneath the branches, and spend the whole period wishing I was somewhere else. Someone else.
One time I spotted Alice and her friends on the other side of the school’s front lawn as I sat under my trees.
They were giggling obnoxiously, as teenagers do.
One of them called out, “Give it back!” and moments later, Alice ran into the trees, only to stumble across my hideout. She let out a yelp once she noticed me.
“Alice? Are you okay?” one girl had yelled across the yard.
“Yeah. Just . . . saw something creepy,” she said, leaving and joining them. They burst out laughing a few moments later, and I’d always wondered what she’d said to them. Was it about me? Did she even know who I was? A knot formed in my stomach.
“Man, there are almost too many memories to pick just one,” Noah said.
“Yeah,” I agreed. There were indeed too many.
“Remember how at our prom we were supposed to have some DJ come up from Denver, but there was a snowstorm? And so they had to cancel the DJ and the principal’s daughter got to control the aux cord and just played awful boy band music on a loop all night?” he chuckled. I offered a laugh in response.
Should I tell him or pretend I was there too?
“Yeah . . . I actually didn’t go to prom.”
“You didn’t?”
“No one asked me,” I whispered.
My cheeks burned at my loser-ish admission. Noah looked over at me, but I didn’t dare return his gaze. I couldn’t.
“Well, you didn’t miss much,” he finally said.
“Really?” I peered over at him.
“Yeah,” he guffawed. “Prom is awkward. It’s a bunch of sweaty teenagers in ugly dresses and suits pretending to be grownups. It’s hardly the highlight of my high school experience.”
He could’ve been placating me, but I’d take it. I cracked a smile. “You’re right. That does sound awkward.” We both laughed.
A few beats passed, and I noticed the song that had started playing a minute ago. The singer whispered romantic lyrics: “When you look at me with those eyes / suddenly everything feels just right.”
Thankfully, we were sitting in the dark, so Noah couldn’t see the blush that bloomed across my cheeks.
“See those trees over there?” He gestured to my trees.
“Yeah?”
“I used to sit under them and write songs after school.”
I looked over at him in disbelief. “You did? Those trees?” I pointed.
“Yeah. They were like the perfect hiding place. No one could ever find me. I’d spend a couple hours there sometimes, working out lyrics or melodies.” He smiled.
I laughed. “Those were my trees.”
“What?” He tilted his head.
“I sat under those trees too. During lunch. I’d bring a book or dream about what I’d do once I got out of this place. Or people watch sometimes,” I confessed sheepishly.
Noah chuckled. “Well, look at that. I guess we’ve always had a lot more in common than we thought.”
“I guess so,” I replied. We locked eyes for a few moments, and I couldn’t help but notice the flash of tenderness that passed through his.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was about to—
Noah abruptly broke eye contact and looked at the clock, which read 10:48.
“We should get you home,” he said.
“Probably,” I agreed, even though I wasn’t quite ready to leave this moment.
He flipped the car into reverse and began the short journey back to my parents’ house. Before I knew it, we pulled into the driveway. Noah shifted the car into park. We shyly looked over at each other. Butterflies danced in my stomach.
“Let me walk you to your door,” he murmured before hopping out and opening my door.
A wintry breeze whispered through the pine trees, their branches dancing in response.
We strolled side by side toward the front porch when my foot slipped on a slick spot of ice, shooting me backward.
Noah grabbed me, his hands taking my waist to steady me.
We froze in place for a moment, staring at each other, our faces barely a couple of inches apart.
“Thanks,” I breathed.
“I thought you New Yorkers were supposed to be good at walking. Isn’t that kind of your thing?” he teased. I laughed and he slowly dropped his hands, keeping one ever so lightly on the small of my back as we made our way to the porch.
“I had fun tonight,” he said once we reached the front door.
“So did I.” It wasn’t lost on me that we’d reached the part of the evening when something like a kiss would normally occur. And judging by the look on Noah’s face, it wasn’t lost on him either.
“Well, I hope I get to see you again before you leave. Maybe Sunday. If for nothing else, so that I can show off. I know some pretty cool hymns,” he joked, putting his hands in his pockets.
“I think I can make that happen.” The chimes on the front porch rustled, creating a moment enchanting enough for the romantic novels I always wanted more of as a teenager.
“Well, good night, Jane.” He nodded, seeming to decide against going for the kiss.
Strangely, I wasn’t disappointed. He hadn’t pushed his luck, hadn’t made any assumptions, hadn’t invited me to “get out of here” after dinner.
His lack of action was oddly refreshing.
I couldn’t remember the last time a guy hadn’t done that on a first date.
“Good night, Noah.” As he made his way down the driveway, I fumbled with my keys and quietly opened the front door. Then I crept down the hall and into my room, flicking the lights on. I shut the door and leaned against it, smiling from ear to ear. Had all of that really just happened?
My eyes landed on Noah’s worn leather jacket still bundled up on my armchair, prompting a laugh.
I soon nestled into my little bed, knowing full well that sleep would evade me for the next couple of hours, but I couldn’t complain about why.