Chapter 6 #2
“So I’ve heard,” Noah says. I wait as he closes the door, then we head toward the goats together. “Do you think you’ll stick around there?” he asks. “For work?”
“I hope not,” I say. “I mean, I loved it for school. And my parents are still in White Plains. But…I don’t know. It’s so busy. I think I’ll be happier somewhere smaller.”
“Yeah? Like where?”
“My top choice is a hospital in Charlotte—Northvale General. It’s close to Alec and Evie, and they have a PICU nurse residency program that’s one of the best in the country.
The program is super competitive,” I add, “and I probably would have heard by now if I got in. But…I don’t know.
Maybe I’ll get lucky and someone else will drop out to make room for me. ”
“That’s a great hospital,” Noah says, something in his tone giving me pause. He sounds like he’s speaking from personal experience.
“You know it?”
We stop in front of a large stall with half a dozen goats inside. They’re all crowded around the door, looking at us like they fully expect us to have pockets full of treats. I’m suddenly sorry I didn’t bring anything to give them.
“I lived in Charlotte for a while,” Noah says. “So I know the area pretty well.”
I wait, expecting him to add something more.
To tell me that’s where his family is from or where he went to school.
Charlotte isn’t far from here, so it wouldn’t be that unusual.
But to mention the hospital specifically feels odd.
Does he know it’s a good hospital because someone was sick? Or because he was sick?
“Is that where you grew up?” I finally ask when he doesn’t add anything else.
“No,” Noah says. “I grew up just north of Asheville.”
“Oh. That’s not too far.”
I wait again, leaving the door wide open for Noah to volunteer more information, but then he steps inside the goat pen, and I can tell we’re leaving the topic of Charlotte behind us.
I can’t call it annoying that he’s so obviously withholding information. It’s not like I’m entitled to any of his secrets. But the fact that he has secrets makes me insatiably curious, and it takes everything in me to keep myself from asking more questions.
At least until I see him pick up the tiniest goat I’ve ever seen in my life.
Once I see Noah cradling her against his chest, I’m not thinking about his secrets at all. The goat leans up and nuzzles his beard, then lets out a tiny meh-eh-eh-eh. He scratches under her chin with his free hand. “That’s a sweet baby,” he whispers. “You’re such a good girl.”
The words are obviously not meant for me, but heat pools in my belly anyway. He’s being so gentle, so tender with her. It’s a side of Noah I haven’t seen before—and I’m not sure I could have imagined it had I tried. But here we are.
Swooning over a large man holding a tiny goat was not on my Christmas bingo card this year, but I’m about ready to write it in over every single space. Because honestly, what else could possibly compare to this?
“You want to hold her?” he asks, though he doesn’t look particularly excited about giving her up.
It’s a toss-up. Watching him hold a baby goat is an experience that might actually rival holding one myself. To see someone so broad and strong and masculine be so gentle—it’s the very best kind of drug.
Still, I don’t stop him when he lowers the coal-black newborn into my arms. She settles right in like she was born to be held like this, then leans up and nuzzles my neck with her nose.
“Oh, my gosh,” I whisper. “Could she be any more perfect?”
Noah steps closer and scratches the top of her head. “She’s the third one born since I’ve been here, but it still feels like a miracle every time I see it happen. It’s hard not to love them when they’re this tiny and new.”
“That feeling was almost enough to make me do labor and delivery instead of PICU,” I say. “It’s pretty amazing when it’s people too.”
He scratches the newborn under her chin. “I bet goats are easier patients.”
I laugh. “No birth plans and no stressed-out dads-to-be. I think you’re probably right about that.”
“Have you thought of a name yet?” a voice asks from somewhere behind me. I turn to see a blond woman walking toward us from the opposite end of the barn. She’s wearing a Stonebrook Farm jacket, jeans, and thick rubber boots.
“Not yet,” Noah says to the woman, then he looks down at me. “This is Kelly, the farm manager here at Stonebrook. Kelly, this is Megan. She’s who Olivia hired to keep an eye on the office while everyone is in Italy.”
“Nice to meet you,” Kelly says. “Olivia told me you’d be here. I’ve been meaning to stop by and say hello, but with all this weather, I haven’t had the time. It’s a lot of work weatherproofing a farm. You’re connected to the family, right? Someone’s cousin? Or…sister, maybe?”
“Just a friend,” I say. “Or, a friend of a friend, really.”
Kelly smiles. “Well, a friend of a friend is a friend of mine. I appreciate you filling in. I’ve never seen Olivia so worried about covering everything while she’s gone.”
I give Noah a pointed look. “Thank you,” I say, not even trying to hide the smugness in my tone. I knew Olivia actually needed me to be here. “I’m so happy to help out.”
Noah’s phone rings before he can contribute to the conversation, and he pulls it out, giving the screen a quick glance. “I should take this,” he says. “I’ll be right back.”
I smile at Kelly as Noah walks away. “Honestly, I’m happy to hear you say I’m needed. I’ve been feeling a little weird about being here. Especially with the weather. If the Christmas Eve reunion is cancelled…I don’t know. I just don’t like feeling extra.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Did someone say something to make you feel extra?”
I wince the slightest bit. “No, no! I’m sure it was nothing.”
She gives me a pointed look. “Megan.”
The woman is too perceptive for her own good. “Noah might have said something about the job just being a cover for some sort of weird Christmas setup. He thinks his family didn’t want him to be alone for Christmas.”
Her eyes widen. “He told you that?”
I nod. “The first night I arrived.”
She huffs out a laugh. “Perceptive of him to piece it all together.”
I frown. “Wait. So it is a setup?”
“No, no,” Kelly says. “You’re definitely needed.
But Olivia did hire you on purpose. As opposed to, say, my mother-in-law, who would have been happy to help out but probably would have been a much less fun houseguest for Noah.
” She shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Two things can be true at once. You’re needed.
Fair and square. But after what Noah has been through, no one’s going to pretend like he doesn’t also need a friend. ”
“What he’s been through?” I ask, and Kelly grimaces, like she’s suddenly realized she’s said too much.
“Honestly, it’s perfectly understandable in his line of work,” she says. “I shouldn’t have even mentioned it because I’m sure he’s going to be fine.”
Kelly’s candid response is more than I expect, and I’m not sure how to respond.
What has Noah been through? And what is his line of work?
A part of me wants to ask. With a little prodding, I’m guessing I could get Kelly to talk. But a bigger part feels like that would be betraying Noah’s trust somehow. It doesn’t feel right to ask for information he might not want me to know.
Still, if I don’t figure this guy out soon, the not knowing might eat me alive.
Noah’s mood is subdued when he comes back into the barn.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
He nods as he slips his phone back into his pocket. “Yep. All good.”
I’m not sure I believe him, but I probably shouldn’t be trusted. Not when my brain is imagining a raft of possible secrets and heartaches big enough to make all these people worry as much as they are.
“Ready to head back?” he asks.
I nod and give the tiny goat one more scratch behind her ears before letting Kelly lift her out of my arms. “You should name her Noel,” I say, “since she was born so close to Christmas.”
The goat lets out a tiny bleat, and Kelly smiles. “I think she agrees.”