2. Noelle
Chapter two
Noelle
Was there a phobia for being afraid to return to your hometown? If so, I had it.
Parked on the shoulder of the turnoff leading into town, I stared at the peeling sunset-orange lettering on the otherwise mint green sign, reading: Welcome to Serenity Springs. I was a bull rider in the arena. One wrong move and the town would chase me out with pitchforks and burn me in effigy.
Okay, maybe that was too many mixed metaphors.
But the prodigal daughter was returning, and I guarantee you no one would be slaughtering the fattened calf in my honour.
God, you got me this far. But is this really necessary?
It wasn’t the first time I’d asked that, and I doubted it’d be the last. Returning to the small town I’d grown up in after thirteen years in the hustle and bustle of New York City hadn’t been my Plan B—or even Plans C or D—after losing my nursing job thanks to a car accident last year. Yet here I was.
Jobless and homeless, returning home in a dumpster fire of glory to Serenity Springs, Idaho—a regular Mayberry with one stoplight and where your business was never private for long.
“It’s quaint,” Macy said brightly over video chat where she was propped up on my dash, looking out the windshield.
“And you picked a nice spot to have an identity crisis. I checked and there’s only one Serenity Springs in the country.
Unlike Springfield. Did you know there are forty-one in the entire US?
” She pursed her lips, playing with her dangly pineapple earrings.
“I feel like the creative team could have brainstormed a bit better.”
I laughed and flipped the camera to face me.
Macy Davenport was my best friend—the one who never left my side when my world turned upside down.
We’d met in college during my first year of nursing school while she was in the dental hygienes program.
After we graduated, we’d been roommates, and she always had a random fact to share.
In her own words, she was the queen of useless trivia.
But the distraction made me feel better.
Her special brand of bubbliness eased the tension in my shoulders a fraction.
Facing scary things was always easier with a friend at your side to talk you off the edge of panicking.
“You good, Elle? You’re looking a bit green, and it’s not a good colour on you, chica.”
I groaned, head dropping against the headrest. I rubbed my thumb over my faded sweatpants, trying to ease the sharp nerve pain in my left thigh. Despite my dash reading the temperature as the high sixties, I was breaking a sweat just sitting here. “Not really.”
Macy was quiet for a moment as she wrangled her gorgeous jet-black hair into a messy bun. “I know you’ve prayed about this, and God gave you the green light. I’m proud of you; I really am. It’s a special kind of bravery, coming back to your hometown.”
Bravery or foolishness? Time would tell.
“Just remember: You’re more than the mistakes you made, Elle.”
This was my shot at redemption.
Blue and red lights danced in my rearview, and I nearly gave up the ghost. Not the answer to prayer I was looking for.
But clearly the Lord had a sense of humour.
Since when was parking on the shoulder an offense?
Oh wait, this was Serenity Springs—rules didn’t have to make sense.
And the town clearly hadn’t changed if the police force was tasked with harassing innocent civilians.
“Mace, I gotta go.”
“Oh my gosh!” she gasped. “Those are police lights! Are you getting arrested? Do I need to have bail money ready? What could you possibly have done sitting on the side of the road? Do you guys even have a prison in that town?”
“No one’s going to jail.” I hoped. With how my luck was going these days, a night in jail would be icing on the cake.
A tall, broad-shouldered man unfolded himself from the cruiser and strode confidently towards me. It took point-two seconds to recognize the reddish brown hair and navy uniform.
“No, no, no, no!” I moaned. It can’t be.
“Is it your ex?” Macy shrieked. “I thought he was a hockey player.”
“It’s his brother.”
“Uh . . . a married one or a single one?”
Was that hope in her voice? “Dallas.”
“Married. Got it.” She sighed. “Just be calm and collected. Who am I kidding? You always are.”
I would have laughed if I wasn’t so nauseous. “Bye, Mace.”
“Wait, let me—”
I hung up before she could try talking me into letting her witness my humiliation any further.
My phone pinged.
MACY:
Rude *mad face emoji*
Call me when you’re done. I want the details.
And I’ll be waiting by my phone in case I’m your one call from prison. *kissy emoji* *laughing emoji*
The tall shadow tapped on my window. Dallas Satterfield. My ex-fiancé’s oldest brother. I should have known I couldn’t fly under the radar of the family I could have called my own if my stupidity hadn’t gotten in the way.
I rolled down the window, trying to shove my burning shame back into its pigeonhole of organized emotions. There was an abundance of humble pie in my future—starting now. I stared straight ahead, even when his boots crunched on the gravel as he shifted.
Dallas ducked down, wind ruffling his hair. “Noelle.”
I swallowed hard. Time to borrow Macy’s mantra—be calm. “Dallas. Is admiring the scenery a crime now?”
So much for chill, Macy lectured in my head like the little Lizzie McGuire cartoon character.
Dallas’s eyes settled heavily on me. I hadn’t done anything wrong, but now I was pitying every bad guy who had to sit through his bad-cop routine. He’d perfected it early in life having four wild younger brothers.
“It is if you’re watching yellow-bellied marmots.”
What? He had to be pulling my leg. Typical older brother behaviour, although Dallas had never been a big kidder. That was more Shane’s and Brett’s style. “Excuse me?”
Dallas’s lips curved into a half smile. “You know, rock chucks.” He slipped a hand into his pocket casually, drawing attention to the arsenal of weapons on his belt. “They’re the unofficial town mascot now.”
My brain glitched like a scratched CD, which I stubbornly clung to as superior to streaming platforms. “Is there an official mascot?”
“Jerry.”
I blinked, and my jaw twitched as the needling nerve pain in my leg skyrocketed from sitting too long without stretching. “That he-devil is still alive?”
Jerry was the Gullivers’ Maine coon cat with a grudge against humanity and a god complex. He’d been old when I left town, but he must be prehistoric now. Plus, he was the stuff of legends. Even my former friends back in Queens knew about Jerry.
“And more ornery than ever,” Dallas confirmed. “Now are you watching for rock chucks or not? It’s prohibited within town limits.”
“Which I’m not in,” I stressed, pointing at the sign in front of me.
Dallas hitched a thumb behind us. “Mayor Gulliver moved the boundary fifty yards out to accommodate the Powells’ orchard. We didn’t bother moving the sign. Which means”—he tapped my window ledge—“you’re inside town limits.”
The tension in my neck bloomed into a headache behind my eyes. “You’re kidding.”
“I never kid about rock chucks.”
This was ridiculous. “I’m not on a nature tour, okay?” I threw up my hands. “I’m just . . . thinking.”
Overthinking, like usual, Macy-on-my-shoulder added unhelpfully.
Dallas crossed his arms over his chest. “Sure you weren’t looking for another reason to run?”
Ouch. Did I deserve that? Yes. But it still stung. “I’m not running,” I said firmly. “Why are you pulling me over? Now that we’ve established I’m not a peeping tom on small-albeit-cute rodents.”
Dallas rubbed a hand over his beard, looking almost . . . was that guilty? “Ruby told me you were coming.”
Of course she did. My baby sister was the only one who knew about my return in the first place. “Is the whole town aware of my movements now? Can I expect to get updates about my life on The Vine?”
“You telling me you’re still subscribed to it?”
I gritted my teeth. “No.”
Mom’s voice rang in my ears. Good girls don’t get angry.
I knew the words weren’t true, but it was easy to fall into old patterns being back here. I’d spent the last ten years trying to rebuild myself and my life in New York after a long string of mistakes. But coming back to Idaho had me feeling two inches tall again.
It’s time to heal bridges, not burn them. I’d come to make amends. And also because I had nowhere else to go.
You’re more than your mistakes.
Dallas took pity on me. “Figured you should have that conversation yourself. I won’t be feeding the gossip.”
“So kind of you.” Once The Vine, the town’s local news app—excuse me, gossip app—got a hold of me, I was toast. Burnt-to-a-crisp-no-amount-of-butter-can-salvage-this kind of toast.
He plowed ahead, ignoring my sarcasm. “I’m just here to see you inside town limits as a courtesy to Ruby and Lee.”
Mentioning my dad was a low blow. After fleeing town thirteen years ago, I’d left a hurricane-sized mess in my wake. Hurting my dad was one of those messes. One in a long list of things I needed to fix. Because that’s what I did—I fixed things.
My stomach churned with regret—both for the past and for stopping for lunch in Boise. I was nauseous enough at the thought of returning home before I’d added food to the mix. “So you can put me under township arrest, Eliot Ness?”
Dallas’s lips twitched under his neatly trimmed reddish-brown beard, more streaked with grey than I remembered. He was pushing forty now. “I forgot how snippy you can be, kid.”
Something in my shield cracked. This was Dallas.
The older brother I’d always wanted to take a load off my shoulders.
More than once he’d saved my sorry hide in high school when he walked me through algebra problems at the Satterfield kitchen table.
And when I’d hit a mailbox the first day I had my driving permit, he’d helped me fix it without batting an eye.