Chapter 15 #3
The lighthouse keeper had barely introduced the restoration project before Noah lost the thread.
He shifted on the couch.
“I can’t follow him.”
“We can turn it off.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
I stopped the film.
The room became quiet except for rain and Marlowe’s breathing.
Noah leaned against the cushions.
“What did we do when we didn’t watch television?”
“Listened to music. Read. Worked on plans. Argued about paint colors.”
“What color did I want?”
“Yellow.”
“For this apartment?”
“For the kitchen cabinets.”
“What color are they?”
“Gray.”
“Did you win?”
“I waited until you were away and painted them.”
Noah stared.
“You did not.”
“I did.”
“What happened?”
“You refused to speak to me for two hours.”
“Only two?”
“You became hungry.”
“That sounds like a weak protest.”
“You made me repaint one cabinet yellow on the inside.”
I pointed toward the kitchen.
He drove his chair closer and opened the cabinet beneath the sink.
The interior was mustard yellow.
Noah laughed until he had to hold his ribs.
“You’re terrible.”
“You loved me.”
“That does not excuse it.”
“No.”
His laughter softened into a yawn.
I pretended not to notice.
He returned to the couch and settled beside me.
Closer than before.
Marlowe climbed up at the opposite end, filling the remaining space.
Noah rested his head on my shoulder.
“You call me Noah now.”
“Yes.”
“What did you call me before?”
“Many things.”
“Such as?”
“Sweetheart.”
“That one escaped in the hospital.”
“I know.”
“What else?”
“Trouble.”
He smiled.
“Accurate.”
“Love.”
His breathing changed.
“Did I like that?”
“You pretended not to.”
“What did I call you?”
“At work, Callahan when you were annoyed.”
“Were you annoyed often?”
“You enjoyed the sound.”
“What else?”
“Captain.”
Noah laughed softly.
“You own a boatyard.”
“You thought it was hilarious.”
“It is.”
“Privately…”
I stopped.
“What?”
“You called me Cal.”
His head lifted.
“From Callahan?”
“Yes.”
“Did anyone else?”
“No.”
The name seemed to interest him.
“Cal.”
Every muscle in my body reacted.
Noah saw it.
“That one matters.”
“Yes.”
He settled against me again.
“Cal.”
I closed my eyes.
“Careful.”
“Why?”
“Because you used that voice when you wanted something.”
“What do I want?”
“I have no idea.”
“Maybe this.”
His right hand found mine.
We watched rain instead of the film.
His breathing gradually deepened.
“You need bed,” I said.
“Always.”
“Yes.”
“I hate it.”
“I know.”
He remained against me another minute.
Then he asked, “What would you change?”
“About what?”
“Us. If we started again.”
The question required honesty he might not have the energy to hear.
“Small things.”
“Tell me.”
“I would leave work earlier.”
His thumb moved across mine.
“I would stop treating every problem at the yard as if only I could solve it.”
“Caleb would like that.”
“He would misuse the freedom.”
“What else?”
“I would take more photographs with you instead of of you.”
“You have hundreds.”
“Mostly when you weren’t looking.”
“Creepy.”
“Documentary.”
“What else?”
I looked toward the dark windows.
“I would tell you sooner when I was frightened.”
Noah became still.
“Were you frightened often?”
“Not before the accident.”
“After.”
“Yes.”
“What scared you most?”
“That you would die before I reached the hospital.”
His hand tightened.
“Then that you would wake and not know me.”
“That happened.”
“Yes.”
“What scares you now?”
“That you will believe caring for you is destroying me.”
His head lifted from my shoulder.
“Is it?”
“No.”
I answered sharply.
“No. It is exhausting. It is painful. It has changed everything. But you are not the thing causing harm.”
“The accident is.”
“Yes.”
“The missing money?”
My pulse stumbled.
“What money?”
“You paused at lunch.”
I looked at him.
Noah’s gaze had sharpened despite fatigue.
“When I asked about bills.”
I chose each word carefully.
“The yard has less income because I have been away.”
“How much less?”
“We will discuss it with Dr. Whitcomb tomorrow.”
“That bad.”
“Not catastrophic.”
“You’re hiding it.”
“I’m controlling when we discuss information that may overwhelm you.”
“That is a very polished way to say hiding.”
“I will show you the accounts.”
“When?”
“After the doctor helps us make a plan.”
Noah looked away.
“I don’t want to be protected from my own life.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
He remained quiet for a long time.
“I also don’t want another boat on the bench tonight,” he said.
Relief and guilt moved through me together.
“Tomorrow,” I promised.
“Tomorrow.”
His speech had begun to blur.
I stood.
“Bathroom. Medication. Bed.”
“You ruin every date.”
“I provided honey cakes.”
“That bought you goodwill.”
I helped him transfer into the chair.
He used the bathroom while I cleaned the kitchen.
By the time he returned, his eye was nearly closed.
I gave him the evening medication and followed him to the bedroom.
Marlowe arrived first and claimed the foot of the bed.
Noah transferred with more help than he had needed earlier.
The day had emptied him.
I supported his legs as he settled.
“Tomorrow will be long,” I said.
“I know.”
“You can cancel anything that becomes too much.”
“Not the brace appointment.”
“No.”
“I want it gone.”
“I know.”
“Will you stay in the room?”
“Yes.”
“All of them?”
“Yes.”
His gaze rested on me.
“You say yes very easily.”
“Only to certain questions.”
I pulled the blanket over him.
“Good night, Noah.”
“Cal.”
The private name stopped me.
His eye was closed.
“Stay.”
I sat on the edge of the bed.
“I’m here.”
“No.”
He opened his eye and pushed the blanket back on my side.
“Stay here.”
My heart beat once, hard.
“You’re tired.”
“That is why people sleep.”
“You may wake confused.”
“Then tell me who you are.”
“You may want space.”
“I’ll ask.”
I looked at the open place beside him.
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
The honesty made the invitation more meaningful.
“I still want you here.”
I turned off the bedside lamp.
The green glow from the hall remained.
I changed in the bathroom, returned in sleep pants and a shirt, then climbed into my side of the bed.
Noah watched me settle.
“You’re very far away.”
“There are six inches between us.”
“Wasteful.”
I moved closer.
He placed his right hand on my chest.
Not tentative.
Testing.
My heartbeat struck beneath his palm.
“The dream,” he murmured.
“What about it?”
“This.”
His fingers spread.
“I felt your heart.”
I covered his hand with mine.
“You have it.”
Noah shifted until his head rested near my shoulder.
His injured arm remained supported between us.
“Don’t leave before I wake.”
“I won’t.”
“Promise.”
“I promise.”
His breathing slowed.
A few minutes later, he whispered, “Cal?”
“Yes?”
“I’m glad the date was new.”
“So am I.”
“It means I can miss it later without borrowing the feeling.”
My throat tightened.
“Then we’ll make more.”
He fell asleep with his hand over my heart.