3. Noelle #2
The cottage interior was clean and cozy with an open-concept living room and kitchen. Simple with polished hardwood floors, warm cream walls, and exposed timber beams overhead. My boxes and a handful of furniture would clutter it up when the movers arrived tomorrow, but for now, it was homey.
“I’ll come back tonight after dropping her off to help you unpack,” Ruby offered, trailing me as I wandered around the house, taking everything in.
I shook my head. “I’m kinda tired. There’s nothing really to do, not till the movers come tomorrow. I think I’ll save it for then. There’s a bed here already, so nothing else is pressing.” I was more grateful than ever that the cottage came mostly furnished.
Ruby’s eyes narrowed, and she propped a hand on her hip. “Who are you and what have you done with my sister? The Noelle I know wouldn’t go to bed without folding a basket of laundry, let alone leaving a whole house a mess.”
Tension froze my smile. Sure, I was Type A and thrived on order, but I came from a family where if I didn’t do it, no one else did.
“That Noelle isn’t around anymore, Rubes,” I whispered.
My mind wanted to attack the mess, but my body, aching with exhaustion, demanded a night of rest and binging The Dick Van Dyke Show.
Ruby shuffled her feet, lowering her gaze. “Right. I guess it’s been a while.”
Guilt flooded my veins. I’d hurt her feelings. I touched her shoulder and smiled more naturally. “We’ve both changed. That’s normal.”
Ruby bit her lip. “I wanted things to be perfect for you.”
So you don’t leave me again.
She didn’t say the words, but I heard them all the same.
“I don’t need perfect, Rubes.” I shifted my weight off my bad leg. “And you have my promise, I’m not leaving again without a goodbye.”
I’d learned my lesson.
“Miss Noelle!” Khia hollered from the kitchen where Mrs. Pickles was draped over her shoulders. “Are you coming for dinner?”
Ruby perked up. “Why didn’t I think of that? You totally should! Mama D would love to see you, and then we’re heading to the game and—!”
“Not tonight,” I blurted, my breathing shallow. Facing the Satterfields, facing Cal . . . That needed to happen on my own terms. I was too emotionally fragile to handle that tonight. In fact, I was minutes away from a breakdown, and I’d rather not have an audience for that.
When Ruby wilted, I hastily added, “It’s been a really long day, and I need sleep.”
Khia sighed dramatically, then hugged my waist. “Can I come back soon?”
“If it’s okay with your parents.”
“But—” Khia started.
“Mama D’s waiting!” Ruby cut in, her voice squeaking. She scooped the girl and cat up in one swoop. “Noelle, we’re still on for tomorrow night? The photo shoot?”
I sighed and nodded. “I’ll be there.” Was I photogenic? Not in the slightest, and my current acne outbreak had me feeling the furthest thing from put together. It was an unfair world to have more pimple problems at thirty-two than I ever did at seventeen.
But I’d felt guilty about saying no to Ruby after all the ways I’d hurt her. So I’d agreed—flagging confidence and all—to a blind photo shoot with a stranger. Thrilling.
Hopefully this wouldn’t become the next Dateline feature.
Ruby tittered like I’d handed her Willy Wonka’s Golden Ticket but hesitated at the door, Khia in tow. “And maybe I could come early and help with this?” She motioned around the room.
Dear, sweet Ruby. “I’d like that. Maybe around ten? That’s when the movers are scheduled to arrive.” I needed all the sleep I could get.
Ruby practically glowed. “See you then!”
With a final hug from both of them, I was left alone in the small cottage.
Fatigue dragged my limbs, but my skin crawled after spending the day in airport terminals. So gross. And don’t even get me started on the bathrooms. A shower isn’t going to kill you. Maybe not, but with how bone-deep exhausted I was, showering might be the straw that finally took me out.
I loved the clean-after-a-shower feeling as much as anyone, but the actual process of showering was a whole event.
Then there was the issue of dinner.
Unless things had drastically changed, Serenity Springs didn’t have takeout. And if they did, it wasn’t gluten free. Looks like I was making do with the handful of groceries I’d grabbed in Boise.
After I showered—well, I sat on the shower floor with hot water pouring over me, too tired to really do anything—and changed into clean sweats and an oversized hoodie, I scanned the contents of my meager cooler.
“Grilled cheese and a movie?” I mumbled. Oh, look, I was talking to myself. The sure sign of mental stability.
I slapped a piece of presliced cheese on the six-dollar gluten-free loaf I’d grabbed. Did it taste like cardboard with a side of sawdust? Yes. Once I was on my feet again, I’d make my own. For now, dry bread it was. Better grab a water to help wash it down.
Collapsing on the queen bed with my grilled-to-perfection sandwich and a sleeve of gluten-free double-stuffed OREOs, I queued up The Dick Van Dyke Show on my laptop.
Everyone had a rock-bottom movie to pick them up off the gum-infested shoe of life. This was mine. Maybe it was the humour or the way Dick Van Dyke and Mary Tyler Moore played such a comedic couple.
Or was it the memories of watching it with Cal?
I was halfway through the OREOs when Mary took her epic pool shot, and my phone chimed with a text.
My skin crawled. Was my secret out? Did everyone know I was back?
The feeling of being watched haunted me, despite being hidden away in the cottage.
No one knew what I drove because it was a rental, and no one besides Ruby, and Dallas apparently, was expecting me.
I hadn’t even told my dad I was coming. But Ruby wasn’t known for her ability to keep a secret, and Khia .
. . Well, I doubted she’d be keeping it quiet either.
One whiff of my name and the town would descend like bloodhounds on a rabbit’s trail.
Small-town gossip was an untapped resource for the intelligence agencies of the world. You want information? See Ms. Cheryl at the Snips and Curls hair salon, and you’ll get information you didn’t even ask for.
Thankfully, it was just Macy, checking in before she went to bed. It was already past midnight on the East Coast.
MACY:
If I know you, you’re already into your emergency Oreos and halfway through a show.
ME:
You know me.
MACY:
My flight got bumped till later tomorrow.
ME:
You’re all packed and ready? Did you remember your anti-nausea meds?
MACY:
Yes, Mom. You worry too much, but I love you for it.
I snorted, and it echoed in the quietness of the room. As an eldest daughter and a former healthcare worker, taking care of people was in my DNA. I didn’t know who I was without it. If I wasn’t needed, what was my purpose?
My phone buzzed again, yanking me from my downward spiral.
MACY:
I’m here if you need me, but get some sleep, okay?
ME:
Love you. Mean it.
MACY:
Love you double.
After years of working in the same dental office, Macy was starting her career as a traveling dental hygienist. She’d put her plans on hold to help me after my accident last year.
But now it was time to face the music. My body couldn’t physically keep up with the ER shifts, so I’d had to quit the job I loved.
No. No sense dwelling on the past. Just another shattered dream in the dumpster that was Noelle Shepherd’s life.
I wasn’t about to hold my best friend back because of it. If I didn’t love her so much, I’d be jealous. Getting to travel and embrace a new chapter of life sounded amazing.
Going back to your hometown where everyone had preconceived notions and opinions of you? Not so much. Okay, maybe I was a smidge jealous. But I was happy for her, too.
I stuffed another OREO into my mouth. Rob and Laura Petrie’s shenanigans filled the quiet buttery-yellow room. I laughed in all the right places, but my heart wasn’t fully in it.
The lingering echo of a little girl’s laughter faded into the silence, looping in my brain.
If I’d had doubts before, that laugh confirmed it beyond all doubt. Khia was Cal Satterfield’s daughter.
The daughter who, had I stayed all those years ago, might have been mine.