Chapter 12 #2
“Shall we say, tomorrow at three?” Isaiah suggested. “I’ll make sure Mr. Lawrence is ready to greet you.”
Which was slightly odd phrasing, but then Noah did seem reclusive. Grace nodded and murmured her thanks, and with a cheery wave Isaiah headed off. And now, she thought as she closed the door after him, she could spend the next twenty-four hours obsessing about seeing Noah Lawrence again.
What was wrong with her?
In the end, though, Grace didn’t obsess all that much.
She was busy going through the old files she’d brought back from the nature reserve office, and then making dinner and messaging her mom, who was worried about her even if she used every opportunity to tell Grace why leaving Brad had been such a big mistake.
Grace had yet to enlighten her why it hadn’t been, in part because she was ashamed even though she knew, intellectually at least, that she shouldn’t be, and also in part because even then she feared her mother wouldn’t understand.
Her mother was briskly—very briskly—pragmatic about most things, with an old-fashioned view of a woman’s lot in life. Life is full of hard knocks, Grace. You just need to make the best of it. Grace could practically hear her say the words, no matter what the situation.
Her dad had been different, genial and jokey and laidback about everything. He’d died a month before Brad had proposed; the two were, in a weird way, related. If her dad hadn’t died so suddenly, Grace wasn’t sure she would have ever married Brad. It was a sobering thought.
In any case, her mom loved her in her own way, and right now Grace felt like she had precious few people who fell into that category. Twelve years of systematic isolation could do that to a person, she’d finally learned, and hopefully it wasn’t too late to change the situation.
So her mom got a message, and then Jacob had a bath and four stories before bed—the number was creeping up—and by the time Grace was getting ready for bed herself, she’d realized, somewhat to her relief, she hadn’t thought about Noah Lawrence much at all.
Still, the nerves came back the next afternoon as, hand in hand with Jacob, she walked up the lane toward Grayhaven’s gates.
Jacob was practically skipping in his excitement, which made it all worth it, whatever it all was.
She probably wouldn’t even talk to Noah.
And if she did, it would be no more than pleasantries.
She was building this whole thing up in her mind way, way too much, and she didn’t even know why.
Why not just enjoy the spring day—the breeze ruffling the ocean into pretty white frills, seagulls circling above, the dark wings of a great cormorant silhouetted against the bright blue sky as it gracefully dove toward the water.
Becca’s trawler was already out to sea, Grace saw, a pretty red boat with a navy-blue cabin. Bab waved to her from the kitchen window as they walked past, and Grace’s heart lifted. It was the little things, she reflected, that made you feel more settled.
That morning she’d refilled a few feeding boxes with Jacob and identified some of the plants growing in the woods in the middle of the island.
Grace had taken a few specimens for Jacob’s log as well as her own education.
The more she knew about the wildlife of the island, the better she could take care of it.
As they reached Grayhaven, Isaiah met her at the house’s imposing set of front doors, smiling genially at them both.
“Well, hello! How nice to see you, Ms. Wyatt, Master Jacob.” Still smiling, he ushered them into Grayhaven’s soaring foyer, its ceiling lost at least a floor above in gloom. “Come right this way.”
He led them up one side of the double staircase, back to the thickly carpeted hallway where Grace knew Noah’s study was, the dark wood-paneled walls lined with muddy-looking oil paintings.
Really, the whole house seemed trapped in the 1800s, or even earlier.
She wondered when it had been built, and why no one had wanted to update it even a little.
Isaiah tapped on Noah’s study door and then frowned as he opened it. No one was inside.
“He might be in the gym still,” he murmured, while Jacob slipped his hand from Grace’s and went straight to the chessboard by the fire.
As Isaiah continued down the hallway, Grace hovered uncertainly for a moment before deciding to follow him.
While Jacob was reacquainting himself with the chessboard, maybe she could have a discreet word with Noah about her son’s current limitations.
She suspected he was already aware of Jacob’s shyness, but it couldn’t hurt to make it clear that her son wasn’t speaking at all.
“Grace and Jacob are here,” Isaiah said from the door of the gym while Grace waited behind.
“What?” Noah sounded both surprised and irritable, and Grace immediately tensed. “Why?”
“For Jacob’s chess lesson,” Isaiah replied imperturbably, and Noah let out a groan.
“Isaiah, I told you I wasn’t doing that,” he snapped. “You really need to stop interfering—”
“Noah—” Isaiah began, sounding uncharacteristically stern, while Noah swore, making Grace stiffen all the more. She heard him clamber off some kind of gym equipment, the snap of a towel.
“I know you think if you push us together enough something will happen,” Noah told him through what sounded like gritted teeth, “but forget it, okay? Tell them to go home. I really have zero interest in bothering with some broken Barbie and her weird little kid.”
He came round the doorway, a towel looped around his shoulders, a gray shirt darkened with sweat around the neck, a pair of navy-blue sweatpants riding low on his hips.
His face was drawn into harsh lines of discontent, while Grace stared at him, transfixed with icy horror, before she did the only thing she could think of—she turned around and fled.