Prologue #2
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, as she eased his feet to the floor. “PawPaw, you sure you can’t come to cheer me on today?”
“C’mon, star player. PawPaw made the long trip.
The sooner I drop you off, the sooner the fam can decorate for your party.
” Noah’s father, Levi, gestured to the front porch.
His blue eyes, long legs, and big boots pointed in the direction Noah would soon follow.
Petey and the guys needed him to win, ’cause he was better than all of them.
“Bye, Mama. Bye, PawPaw. I’m going to win for my birthday. And everyone will cheer—”
“Noah,” his mother sighed. “Remember we talked about teamwork. You can share the load.”
“I know,” he muttered. “But—” He didn’t say anything else about winning.
“It’s your birthday, Noah. Just have fun with your friends, for your PawPaw, okay?”
“Okay.” He shrugged his small shoulders.
“And remember what PawPaw taught you.”
Noah had done one better than remember. He’d asked Tobias to help him spell anything with four or more letters, and then he’d memorized every word. “Always be a gentleman. And treat the girls, treat ’em like a lady. Don’t tease, touch, pinch, or pull.”
“That’s right, little rabbit. Hands to yourself, and they’ll remember you.”
“Good, ’cause I want to be remembered.”
“Go have fun at your game, my fast little rabbit.”
Four hours later, Noah returned home in tears over the game loss.
The scent of warm chocolate sweetened the air.
Though not in the mood for cake, he needed one of PawPaw’s hugs.
Noah looked for him in the worn leather recliner.
He wasn’t there. Instead, there were strangers in dark uniforms crowded around the back doors of a big truck with metal and glass cabinets for walls—inside them tiny bottles in neat rows.
Whirling red lights and a shrill siren hurt his ears—an ambulance.
And his mama, she was sad, ’cause tears were all over her face.
“Where’s PawPaw?” Noah demanded, through stubborn tears of his own, too plentiful to stop. His brothers tried to pull him away, pleading with him to calm down, but he refused. He needed his PawPaw’s arms to hold him.
“Son.” His father lowered himself, his knees hitting the floor, but Noah still had to look up. “PawPaw’s gone to—” his father said, both hands on Noah’s tiny shoulders.
Gone? Why would he leave him on the worst day ever? Because he wasn’t good enough? Noah jerked from his father’s grasp. “Did he go to Glory like Grandpa Asher?”
“Noah, come here, son. You’re upset. We all are.”
Noah’s face burned with heat, and his vision blurred as tears poured down his cheeks like a rainstorm from a thunderous sky. “Why did he go away? I loved him the best I could.”
His father choked and then swallowed several times before he said, “He knows you love him, Noah.”
“Then why is he gone?” he demanded, trying to sound like a big boy, not a wimpy kid who cried because he’d lost his PawPaw.
“I don’t have all the answers right now, son.”
Noah knew why. Petey had warned him of the consequences. He should’ve won. If only he’d run faster. Tackled harder. Gone farther. Played better than everyone.
“It’s because I lost. That’s why,” he hiccupped, wailing like the five-year-old he’d been. “I told PawPaw. I had to win. He didn’t believe me,” he sobbed, his eyes burning with fresh tears. “My grandpa is… is gone, ’cause of me. I’m sor—sorry.”
“No, baby. It’s not your fault.” His mom reached for him, but Noah scrambled away, not wanting her comfort.
“I’m not a baby!” he screamed, spinning on his cleats, bolting out the back door away from lights, sirens, and the smell of PawPaw’s chocolate cake.
He heard his parents calling his name; even his brothers had joined in.
Noah pumped his legs, his arms matching the effort until space separated him from the hot tears and shrill sounds.
He ran all the way across Calvary land until the sound of crashing water drowned out the barking dogs in kennels and his screams. Sweaty and shaking, he walked until he reached the plunge pool at the bottom of the waterfall.
And there, along the water’s edge, Rachel, the girl next door, crouched with her construction paper and scissors beside her.
Rachel played by herself a lot on account of the fact that she carried a hammer and a tool belt.
Petey and the other kids said that was weird.
Noah didn’t care, as long as she didn’t hit him with it.
Her dad worked the farm up the hill from the Calvary family’s veterinarian clinic.
And Noah’s mama invited them to dinner twice as much as other mountain families because it was just the two of them all alone.
“Hey, Noah,” she said, her face half-hidden behind a wall of twisted curls. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing.” He watched her mix dirt and water into a thickened mass, stacking oozy clumps on top of dried leaves. She studied the mess as if it were something more than a pile of mud.
“You just a big crybaby for no reason?” She focused on the project in front of her as she spoke.
“I got my reasons.”
She looked at him then, one dirty hand shielding her eyes. Bright red curls stood in every direction on her head, the color more vibrant in the April sun. “You gonna tell your reason or keep staring at the happy home I’m building?”
“That doesn’t look like any house from around here. And my dad says a man’s got a right to be upset sometimes.”
She pointed at four squat mud lumps stuck to broken brown leaves and pine needles. “Not my fault if you can’t see the mommy and daddy, all the kids. And you’re too little to be a man.”
“Well, I’m gonna grow… eventually.” Rachel stood taller than all the girls in town and most of the boys, but he didn’t mind.
Not as much as Petey did. “And that’s not why I’m crying.
I lost the football game, and it’s my birthday, but my PawPaw left and went to Glory, I think,” he muttered, using the toe of his cleat to dislodge a rock.
He didn’t want to cry, but he couldn’t stop the flow down his heated cheeks.
“Huh, I’m sorry, Noah. Cry as much as you want.” Her voice went soft, making it hard to hear her above the downpour of the falls.
He used the back of his hand to wipe away the tears. “Why do you say it like that?”
She shrugged and went back to piling mud on top of a small mound she’d gathered. Her palms slapped harder than before on the brownish goo.
“My mama went to Glory already. When grownups go there”—she pointed a caked-on muddy finger at the sky—“they don’t come back.”
“I know that. I’m not stupid,” he said, trailing one finger under his nose before wiping the wetness on the back of his uniform pants, hoping she hadn’t noticed. Noah learned pretty quick that girls avoided nose pickers. “It… it’s just he was my biggest fan.”
“Your biggest fan? Like you’re a country music star?” Her voice tweaked up a little as if she were questioning his statement.
“Yeah, ’cept for football instead of singin’.”
“Well”—she stood up and walked over to him—“if you stop crying, I’ll be your biggest fan.”
With the back of his hand, he wiped away the wetness covering his cheeks. “You’d do that for me?”
“Sure. What do I have to do?”