Chapter 16 #2
“What kind of music?” I asked. Back in the day, he and his band, the Nomadic Cherubs, performed classic rock covers.
Their most common gig was the living room of someone who was secretly throwing a party that weekend because their parents were out of town—which I knew not because I was ever invited, but because countless pictures and videos would invariably be splayed all over Facebook the following morning.
I wasn’t a fan of the music they typically chose, which often included screaming.
But I couldn’t deny how good Noah looked playing his guitar.
Unsurprisingly, he had quite a few female admirers (which only made my crush on him feel all the more foolish).
But I’d only ever seen him date Alice Sullivan, one of the school’s prettiest, coolest girls.
The kind of girl who didn’t even have to try to be gorgeous, whose confidence was undeniable.
They’d gone to prom together—another fact I had learned from Facebook, since I hadn’t gone to prom.
No one had asked me. I spent that night watching all six hours of the 1995 Pride and Prejudice series.
“I write some of my own stuff, play it at open mics in and around Denver. Wherever I can, really. And then I’m the worship leader at the church here in town.”
Now it was my turn for my jaw to drop open.
“At Saint David’s?”
He nodded. “That’s the one.”
I hadn’t ever known Noah to be a churchgoing boy. I’d never spotted him at church on days other than Christmas and Easter, when everyone turned up due to social pressure more than anything else. And now he wasn’t just attending every Sunday but leading the worship? What had changed?
“Did you ever leave Avila Falls?” I asked. Always one for an adventure back in the day, Noah hadn’t seemed like the type to stay.
“I had plans to. I got a job right after graduation. I was gonna stick around for a few months to save up and then move out to Nashville. Do the music thing. But it didn’t end up happening.”
“Why not?”
Noah’s mind seemed to be elsewhere for a few moments. The far-off look in his eyes gave me the impression that whatever memory my question had triggered wasn’t a good one.
“It’s a long story that I don’t want to bore you with the details of,” he finally said, offering a smile in place of an explanation. I detected something lurking just beneath. It was the same sadness I’d picked up on as I’d scrolled through his social media earlier.
Everything in me wanted to press to uncover the real story, the thing that had changed Noah.
As a ghostwriter I’d grown accustomed to it—people letting me in enough to poke around their inner world like it was an antique shop, picking up stories and inspecting them before putting them back down, then latching on to the intrigue and following the scent to the very end like a detection dog.
But the gravity in his eyes told me that asking further questions wouldn’t offer me the explanation I was hoping for. He didn’t want to talk about it.
Noah shifted his attention to the shelf in front of him, pulling a book out and smiling softly.
“You ever read this one?” he asked, holding up a copy of The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.
Instantly I was transported back to being nine years old, holed up in my room and dreaming of discovering a hidden world where I mattered, like Lucy Pevensie did.
Twenty years later, it seemed I hadn’t gotten any closer to finding that world.
At this point, stumbling across a magical wardrobe that could take me there felt about as likely.
“Yeah,” I said, “it was a favorite for a while. I remember wandering around the forest behind my parents’ house and pretending I’d found Narnia.” I took the book from his hands and fanned it out. The smell of unread pages danced across my nose, and I stealthily took in a whiff. “What about you?”
He nodded. “My mom read it to me when I was a kid. I liked it, but I don’t think I got the deeper message that time. I read it again a few years ago. And I know it’s supposed to be a kids’ story, but it held up and then some.”
“What made you go back to it?” I asked. Of all the things I might have pictured Noah reading, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe wouldn’t have even made the list.
“I’d been reading some of his other stuff.
Lewis’s stuff, I mean. I never knew he’d written so much about theology and big questions.
Questions that I really needed answered at the time.
” Noah paused, getting his thoughts in order.
“And it was so . . . profound. I realized I must have missed what Narnia was all about.”
I watched him for a few beats. Noah had always had my attention and admiration, as much as teenage Jane hated to admit it.
But this version of him, the version that I hadn’t even known existed until ten minutes ago .
. . I liked it. In a different way than I’d liked his charming smile, his bewitching eyes, or his magnetic swagger.
“And what did you discover it was all about?” I probed.
“Well, lots of things. But what struck me most was the image it painted of God. I didn’t really have one growing up.
It was just kind of”—he threw his arms up—“yup, God’s there, I guess.
But Narnia gave me this understanding of a God who’s there long before you even know him, who’d do anything for you, even sacrifice his own life.
” Noah paused, scratching his beard. “It gave me a picture of a God who cared. Plus, you’ve got to admit, God as a lion is pretty cool. ” He flashed a grin.
There was no doubt that the intention of Narnia was to present such an image, but it was also a fairy tale.
It was make-believe, fiction. The notion of a God who cared was wonderful, but I wasn’t sure I bought it.
I’d yet to hear an answer that satisfied the questions that had pulled me away from God in the first place: If he cared so much, why had I never felt it?
Why had every prayer I’d ever uttered evidently fallen on deaf ears?
Why did life never seem to go according to plan for anyone?
I observed Noah. The curve of his cheekbones. The sincerity in his eyes. He pushed a hand through his hair, and I wondered how many people had seen this reflective side of him.
My attraction to Noah had always been surface level; now, though, my attraction was expanding, encompassing more than his undeniable handsomeness—against my better judgment, of course, given that in just a few days I’d have to get on a plane back to New York and do my best to forget all about him and our night shared in the hushed quiet and darkness of And Then There Were Books.
There was, after all, no reason to believe anything else would transpire.
Not if I was being honest with myself. The thought pierced my chest.
“Anyway,” his voice shook me out of my thoughts, “all that to say, I was surprised by how much I liked it the second time around.”
I smiled. “I appreciate your review. Maybe I’ll have to give it another read.”
“In between hanging out with Liv and writing bestselling novels, of course,” he said, a wink in his tone. I let out a giggle. He was so good at getting them out of me . . . too good.
“Right,” I agreed playfully.
A few moments of silence passed, but they lacked the heavy discomfort from before. This time, it felt normal. I chose not to try to fill it. Instead, Noah and I sat quietly, each in our own world.
I would have to banish the memory of this night from my mind as soon as it was over, and it might take weeks—or, let’s be honest, months—to stop daydreaming about Noah after we were set free in the morning.
Or longer. My track record when it came to forgetting Noah wasn’t stellar, given that he’d never disappeared from my mind in the decade since graduating from Avila High. But maybe I could let myself bask in this moment, just while it happened.
“Well, I know we’ve spent the last couple of hours in here under less than ideal circumstances,” Noah said. “But it’s been really good to finally get to know you after all these years, Jane.”
My head was screaming at me to not take too seriously what was simply meant to be a kind comment. But my heart wasn’t listening; it may as well have been a million miles away from my head for all the logic it could hear.
All I managed in response was a polite nod.
He continued, “Who would’ve thought we’d ever find ourselves here? But, well, I’m glad I’m in here with you.”
With that, even my mind went mute. Tongue-tied. Speechless. Any words of caution it might have had moments ago flew out the window. My heart had won this round. Future Jane would handle the fallout somehow; present Jane could no longer fight. Not after what Noah had just said.
“Me too,” I whispered. I debated saying more but didn’t trust that I wouldn’t ruin the moment by accidentally confessing my longtime crush on him. I wasn’t thinking straight anymore.
The drowsiness that swelled through my body moments later came almost out of nowhere.
I was absolutely drained, depleted from the adrenaline that had been pumping through my body ever since first laying eyes on Noah a few hours ago.
Not to mention, we’d been talking for quite a while now.
It must have been getting close to midnight here, even later in New York.
“Man, I’m tired. I’m gonna see if I can get some sleep,” Noah said, as if he’d read my mind. He yawned.
“Yeah, me too.” With all hope of anyone discovering us locked in here having vanished, the only thing left to do at this point was sleep.
I crossed my arms and laid my head back against the row of books behind me, hard and flat and anything but comfortable. Despite my exhaustion, I was in for a night of fitful sleep.
“Why don’t you take the chair?” Noah gestured to the sitting chair at the end of the aisle.
I hesitated, then shook my head. “I’ll be okay.” Of course I’d rather sleep there. But taking it felt selfish. Noah gave me a look.
“Come on, you’ll get better rest.”
“But where will you sleep?” I asked.
“I’ll figure something out.” He shrugged and stood, stretching his arms up before he started down the aisle. I slowly slunk my way into the chair.
“Thanks,” I called out as he neared the end.
He stopped and turned, looking back at me—again with that endearing smile of his.
“Night, Jane.”