Chapter Four #3
That would be Noah and Petey. One of the things about small towns was that people often found themselves stuck in predictable patterns.
Noah, Petey, and Rachel. Pete always stood between them with his…
petty Petey-isms. Except Rachel realized in high school that the real game involved Noah’s attention.
Whatever was happening with the committee with the two of them, Rachel confidently assumed she’d seen it before.
She’d lost back in high school. Her participation now would yield the same outcome as before.
Noah didn’t let go. Hated to lose, even a friendship she viewed as toxic.
Petey couldn’t let go. Noah got him into places with people who’d never entertain him otherwise.
“But he’s right about one thing,” Rachel admitted reluctantly. “I haven’t lived here in years. What do I know about what Service needs now?”
Bethany considered this, setting her mug down on the nightstand. “When I first moved here almost two years ago, I felt like an outsider, too. I’m from Saint Augustine, born and raised in a city of thousands, suddenly living in a town where everyone knows which baby teeth you lost in which grade.”
Rachel chuckled despite herself. “It’s… intense.”
“It is,” Bethany agreed. “But that perspective of seeing a place both from the outside and with knowledge of its heart, that’s value added, Rachel. You know what makes Service special because you grew up here. But you also know what makes other places work because you’ve lived that life, too.”
The words resonated in a way Rachel hadn’t expected.
She’d spent thirteen years building spaces that connected people, that brought communities together, that solved problems through thoughtful design.
What if she could do that here? Leave something lasting, something good, in the place that had shaped her?
“The committee meets when?” she asked, surprised by her own question.
Bethany nodded, her eyes brightening. “Tomorrow. Two o’clock at the town hall. To observe,” she added quickly. “No commitment. And my daughter, Amarie. She’ll be there to cheer us on. We can visit the bridal shop in Whynot so you can see the dresses before we head home.”
Rachel sighed, her gaze drifting to the window, to the familiar silhouette of mountains against the darkening sky. “The shop sounds great. And I’ll consider the meeting.”
“That’s all I ask,” Bethany replied, standing. “Sleep well, Rachel. Your father’s making his famous wild berry pancakes in the morning.”
After Bethany left, Rachel sat in the growing twilight, finishing her tea and letting the day’s events wash over her.
The shock of seeing Noah again. Not just seeing him, but feeling that immediate, visceral response to his presence.
The way he’d looked at her, a combustible mixture of anger and something else, something that had made her breath catch.
But this wasn’t about Noah. This was about Service, about using her skills to help the place that had given her roots, even as she’d spent years pretending those roots didn’t matter.
Rachel changed into her sleep shirt and brushed her teeth, her mind still churning. As she returned to her bedroom, she noticed the cat carrier sitting empty by her suitcase.
“ClamClam?” she called softly, glancing around the small room. “Here, kitty.”
No response. No patchwork fur ball curled on the pillows or lurking under the bed.
“Great,” Rachel muttered, pulling on her slippers. The last thing she needed was her temperamental cat terrorizing the farmhouse in the middle of the night.
She padded down the hallway, checking the bathroom and guest room, then made her way downstairs. The old farmhouse was quiet, with only the soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room and the distant chorus of spring peepers from the creek.
In the kitchen, the moonlight spilled through windows that were somehow the same, yet different, and cheerful yellow paint framed the familiar view of the covered back patio and trellis gardens. A small herb garden flourished on the windowsill where her mother had once kept African violets.
“ClamClam?” Rachel whispered, checking under the dining table and behind the refrigerator. “Where are you, you little breakout artist?”
A flash of movement caught her eye through the kitchen window. Something small darted across the rear patio and into the field. Rachel groaned, quickly slipping out the back door into the cool night air.
“ClamClam,” she hissed, wrapping her arms around herself against the chill. “Get back here.”
She followed the fur blur across the yard, past the vegetable garden and the chicken coop, away from the barn. The moonlight cast long shadows across the grass, and the sound of the moving water mingled with the rustling of leaves in the light breeze.
As Rachel approached the embankment, she spotted her cat sitting primly by the water’s edge, tail twitching as if waiting for her.
“You’re horrible,” Rachel informed the feline, making her way carefully down an overgrown path. “Absolutely horrible.”
ClamClam purred in response.
“Don’t try to sweet-talk me now,” Rachel murmured, halfway to scooping up her runaway pet. “What are you hunting out here, anyway?”
From this angle, see could see a soft glow emanating across the plunge pool, on the Calvarys’ side of the waterfall. Was that a cabin?
Before she could investigate further, ClamClam let out a betraying “MRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOWWWWWWW!” that cut through the night silence like a knife.
She heard splashing, and then a familiar male voice echoed in the night. “Six, is that you?”
Dang it. She hadn’t had Noah’s back in a long time, yet somehow she knew she was about to be confronted with way more than she needed to see.