Chapter One #2
I creep forward. What is it? A deer? Wild turkey? Bobcat? Coyote? We’ve seen or heard all of those around here, but we’ve never come too close.
I pull out my ear buds. “What is it, girl?”
Her low growl jolts me to a halt, but it’s a different sound that shocks me into clumsiness.
No, not a sound. A song.
I catch my balance in time to avoid dipping my shoe in the shallow water. I know this tune. It’s a song not from the radio but from a Broadway musical. In the Heights.
I lean forward, tilting my head as if that will help the words I know align with the words I’m hearing. It doesn’t. The tune is right, but whoever this guy is, he doesn’t know the lyrics at all.
Still, I can’t help but listen. Even sung with the wrong words, the delivery is incredible. Almost . . . painful. But in a good way.
“Wow.” As I breathe out the word, one of Janey’s ears perks slightly back toward me, but the rest of her remains in complete stillness.
I almost don’t care that this guy is murdering Lin-Manuel Miranda’s lyrics. He’s emoting those wrong words with such . . . truth, it’s almost as if he’s changing them up as he goes, improvising the lyric around his heart.
Curiosity takes wing. I feel a little like a Peeping Tom, but without the skeeve factor.
This is private. I should leave.
Instead, I move forward stealthily, so as not to spook the singer.
Janey slinks forward as well, staying just ahead of me. After we round the final curve of the creek, revealing the waterfall, she growls again.
It’s a longer sound this time. Louder.
The guy stumbles to his feet. My gloved hand fists at my lips. I’m sure he’s about to go right over the edge, but he doesn’t.
Janey braces herself between me and the stranger and inhales saliva through her snarl, accenting it with a deep bark before continuing the rumbling threat.
“Nice doggie,” the guy says, glancing over the ledge as if he’s considering it as a possible escape route. He backs toward the creek bank instead. “Niiice doggie.”
Janey lets out three tonal barks and resumes her slobbery snarl. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was kind of scary. Maybe borderline rabid.
That’s my girl.
With her by my side, I’m not afraid.
It’s kind of satisfying, actually. But . . .
“Janey, hold.”
“Oh!” The guy startles. “Uh . . . hi. I didn’t see you behind the—Is that a-a wolf?”
“Siberian husky, mostly. With a little Akita mixed in. Janey, heel.”
“A dog. Good. Wow. I thought I was alone out here, and then . . .” He chuckles, but it’s a nervous sound. “I won’t lie. Your dog almost scared me over the ledge.”
“Why did you come all the way out here at night anyway? To my waterfall?”
“This is your—? I’m—I am so sorry. I didn’t realize this was private property. I’ll leave. That is, if your dog isn’t opposed to the idea.” He clears his throat. “I apologize, sincerely. I didn’t mean to trespass. I thought this was part of the nature preserve.”
“It is.” I cringe, glad my embarrassment won’t be obvious in the color-cancelling moonlight.
“It’s not really my waterfall, I just . .
. well, I’ve been coming here for years, and I’ve never seen another person here after dark.
” I bite my lip. “Probably because the sign posted at the entrance says the preserve closes at dusk.”
Not that I used the actual entrance.
“It wasn’t dark when I got here. Unfortunately, the night crept up on me pretty quickly once I ventured off the marked trail.”
His almost-an-accent elocution proves he’s known a bigger world than most of the people in my little town. His diction is too perfect to be a local boy, but his speaking voice is vaguely familiar. As was his singing, now that I think about it.
A face pops into my mind, and with it, a memory of the rest of him, doing a little soft-shoeing on the Kanton High stage.
“You’re Noah Spencer.”
“I’m sorry?” The words of apology carry a bewildered tone, making them seem more like a greeting. Tilting his head, he takes a step forward. When my dog growls, he stops. “Er . . . do we know each other?”
“No. At least, I don’t think we’ve met.” He graduated with my sister, and I did go to all three performances of Guys and Dolls that year, so . . . maybe? “Sorry. I saw you perform in Guys and Dolls. And some other stuff at Kanton High. I recognized your voice.”
“Wow. Guys and Dolls, huh?” The smile of a memory filters through his voice. “That was a long time ago.”
“Uh . . . not really. It was, like two years ago.”
“Yeah. I suppose you’re right. Huh. Seems like a lot longer.”
“Yeah. I guess.”
I take a deep breath. I don’t want to go home, but he was here first, so . . .
“Look, I’m sorry we bothered you. We’ll go. Janey, come.”
“Wait. You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to. There’s a dry spot here by the ledge. We could share the rock, if you’d like. If your dog isn’t going to kill me, that is.”
I laugh. “Janey’s not going to kill you.”
“That’s a relief. But since you’ve hiked all this way, you might as well enjoy the view.” Noah lifts a hand to gesture toward the sky. “It’s a beautiful night. And there might not be too many left before winter.”
He’s right. And I really do not want to go home to Gretchen’s beer fest.
Noah has the reputation of being a good guy—which is more than I can say for the collection of douche-canoes that usually show up to Gretchen’s parties. I think it’s safe. If Noah Spencer turns out to be bad news, I’m betting it wouldn’t take much for Janey to rip out his throat.
But I’m hoping that isn’t necessary, because the loss of that singing voice would grieve the world.