Chapter Nine #2
The next few outbuildings Rachel tagged were precisely what he’d expected—two vacant potential spaces for government use.
He pointed them out with the enthusiasm of a man who knew his town and what it needed.
They drove on, but Rachel kept quiet and took notes as if her tablet were sacred scripture.
Every so often, she’d ask for grant guidelines, zoning details, or the preliminary plans Petey had earmarked for redevelopment.
And every time she did, Noah felt another ember of his confidence burn brighter.
Then came the goats.
The roadside pasture leading to the old Boone Farm came into view, dotted with a dozen cattle and four goats in orange construction vests, each wearing a sandwich board sign.
HONK FOR HEALTHCARE.
BUILD A CLINIC OR CATCH THESE HOOVES.
MAYOR PETE SMELLS LIKE GOAT CHEESE.
A FERRIS WHEEL IS A FUN-DAMENTAL RIGHT.
Noah slowed the truck, staring. “Do you see what you started? These goat signs are infecting the town.”
“Don’t look at us,” Bethany proclaimed. “Billy, Jean, and Diana are at home. They don’t know these goats.”
Benji hooted from his post. “This is the kind of marketing genius Service needs. We should get these guys a social media page.”
Rachel laughed, genuinely, and for a second Noah felt like he was in on the joke. Then she pulled out her phone and snapped a picture.
He kept driving. “It’s not funny.”
The laughter behind him faded as they neared the edge of town, where the roads turned to gravel and the landscape shifted from worn-out charm to quiet neglect. They passed a large area of trailer homes, the old signage clinging to brick like forgotten memories, crumbling sidewalks in need of TLC.
“Whoa. That doesn’t look so good.”
Noah frowned at the condition of the town’s affordable housing. The trailer park, packed end-to-end with narrow, box-style dwellings, most of which had faded paint and sagging roofs.
“Agreed.” However, the town had no money for a massive housing overhaul, despite widespread complaints about the condition of the trailer park and the skyrocketing rental market in Whynot.
And then there was their old high school, abandoned in favor of an upgraded model over in Whynot.
It stood like a ghost—windows boarded, roof sagging, the once-proud brick faded to a tired brown. The rusted swing set in the yard creaked in the breeze, a lonely soundtrack to the silence.
Rachel didn’t say a word. She opened the door and stepped out, the wind lifting her curls around her shoulders as she walked toward the chain-link fence that separated them from the ruins.
“Excuse me while I examine this real estate diamond in the rough up close. Talk about location, location, location. This elevation is sublime.” Benji jumped out, ducked under the padlocked fence, and disappeared from view.
Noah followed Rachel at a measured pace.
“What? What happened to it?” she whispered.
“Funding. Lack of it. People leaving… not coming back.” Noah kept the disappointment from his voice, but a splinter of the old hurt entered his thoughts.
“Why didn’t anybody tell me?”
“When did you make that easy?” She’d been the one to cut communication.
Her back went straight, but her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the fence.
“This used to be alive,” she said quietly.
“Laughter, music blasting with us loaded in the tailgate… I learned how to design ‘properly’ in art class. Mrs. Zuniga made me redraw my final project three times before she said it was my best work.”
Noah stood beside her, unsure of what to say. She didn’t invite his comfort anymore. Even when they were kids, Rachel loved her freedom. A part of her lived for the adventure, while he loved the comforts of a home.
But now… now she looked vulnerable. Not weak, just worn down in that specific way only someone who cared too much ever looked.
“We used to cut across that field, and I’d walk you home after practice,” he said, keeping his voice low. “We’d argue about math homework and who’d win the science fair contest.” She did, of course.
Rachel’s lips curved, but the smile didn’t hold. Her eyes shimmered.
“Looks less imposing, harmless even,” she murmured.
“The best days of our lives,” he mused.
“You had a blast. If I had a letterman’s jacket back then, it would’ve read ‘Tease Me.’ And not in a sexy manner.”
Noah brushed her shoulder with his, just as they used to during lunch, seated as close as the patrolling teachers allowed. “Not when I was around.”
“True,” she said, her lips pressed into a thin line. “But the mean girls and the bad boys found a way, with their sly digs. In the end, my school colors weren’t yellow and brown, they were black and blue.”
He squeezed her tighter, a muscled wall of protection she could lean on. He knew she wouldn’t.
Noah stood by as tears flowed freely down her cheeks. She didn’t stop them. Instead, she held still, perhaps lost to a once-upon-a-time relic robbed of its former glory.
Noah hesitated, then gently pulled her into his arms. She didn’t protest, and the tension in her muscles relaxed when he lowered her head to his chest the way she used to when they shared their dreams under the bleachers. “It’s okay, Six.”