Home to Walnut Ridge (19 page)

She laughed. “Yeah, I can see him
saying that. He’s never understood my fascination with politics,
but that paternal pride sometimes works overtime. Dad’s always been
a cheerleader for Alex and me. He’s definitely got the gift of
encouragement.”

“
Clearly,” Noah agreed.
“Which is why all of us stick around. When I’m on the road now, I
can’t wait to get back and see what Buddy’s got going‌—‌who needs a
helping hand, where he’s headed on his road trips. Definitely a
contagious personality.”

She smiled. “That’s my
daddy. Everybody
loves
Buddy Collins. Well, except for Deacon and his
cronies.”

“
Yeah, but he’s the
exception.” He swallowed hard and continued. “I guess what I’m
trying to say is, until I met you, I didn’t think I could
ever . . . I mean, I wasn’t sure anyone would
ever . . .”

Her brows rose as she
waited for him to spit it out.
Why is this
so hard?

“
Anyone would ever what,
Noah?”

He sighed. “I didn’t think I’d ever
have these feelings again. I thought I’d live the rest of my life
on my own. Unattached. Because to love again would just
be‍—‍”

“—
too much of a
risk?”

“
Yes. Too much of a risk.
I’m not sure I’d survive if something happened again. If, well, if
something were to happen to you. To us.”

She looked deeply into his eyes, her
face filled with compassion. “Noah, life doesn’t offer guarantees.
It just doesn’t.” She looked down at their hands. “Someday, when
you’re ready, I want you to tell me all about Melissa. It’s
important to me.”

He looked up, hoping she
wasn’t expecting him to go
there.
Not tonight. He felt instant relief when she
continued.

“
But until then, promise
me something.”

“
And what would that
be?”

“
Promise me you’ll just
take this‌—‌take
us
‌—‌one day at a time. Because for now, that’s all we need.
Dad always drilled it into our heads that each day is a gift from
the Lord, and he’s right.”

He nodded, grateful she seemed to
understand his hesitancy.

“
Noah, I’ve really enjoyed
getting to know you, too. It’s been a long time since
I . . . well, since I cared for someone the way I
care for you.” Her smile widened as a touch of mischief sparkled in
her eyes. “And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t melt like butter
whenever you kiss me.”

“
Good to know,” he said,
returning her smile.

“
But we
both
need to take this
slowly. There’s no reason to rush into something more. So let’s
take the pressure off and just take it one day at a time. Fair
enough?”

He felt a wave of relief drift over
him. “Fair enough,” he said, leaning over to place a slow kiss on
the top of her hand. “Fair enough.”

After paying the waiter, Noah and
Tracey took a short tour of the mansion then made their way to the
door. The hostess thanked them for coming then opened the arched
door for them. As she did, a dense fog rushed into the entry area
like a dark and hungry serpent.

“
Oh my goodness,” Tracey
said. “I’ve never see that happen before, have you?”

Noah stepped back, speechless. The
fog sweeping into this old house . . . just
like the living, thriving cloud of darkness that so often curled
its way into his heart. How often had he experienced this exact
phenomenon? What he now saw with his eyes‌—‌a visual façade of the
flood of depression that so often crept into his soul. A chill
raced from head to toe, making him shudder.

Tracey touched his arm. “Are you
okay?”

He looked at her hand, and for a
moment wondered who it belonged to.

She pulled him aside as another couple
passed by, stepping out into the eerie abyss. He watched them,
dreading having to walk through it himself.

“
Noah, what’s
wrong?”

He closed his eyes just for a moment,
searching for something‌—‌anything‌—‌to grasp onto as the chilling
darkness tugged at his heart.

“
Noah!” Tracey whispered
urgently. She placed her hands on his face, cupping his cheeks.
“Noah,
look
at
me. What is it?”

When he opened his eyes,
he saw compassion and strength in her countenance. He breathed
again, unaware he’d been holding his breath.
Let her be your anchor.
The words
drifted through his mind like a soothing balm.

“
I’m okay,” he said,
placing his hands atop hers. “I’m sorry. I’m not really sure
what . . . came over me.” But, of course he did.
“Let’s go home.”

She smiled, though concern shadowed
her eyes. “I’m ready if you are.”

He held onto her as they navigated
through the thick fog, unable to spot Buddy’s Buick until they were
right upon it. Slowly pulling out of the parking lot, they made
little headway down the winding, mountainous road, unable to see
much of anything beyond the Buick hood ornament. The first half
hour was treacherous. He kicked himself, thinking they should have
waited out the heavy blanket of fog. Now, on this two-lane road,
there was no turning back.

Tracey rolled down her window, keeping
her eyes locked on the yellow line separating the road from the
shoulder. Noah kept his eyes glued to the center line. By the time
they finally slipped out of the cloud, he was exhausted. Just a few
miles from home, it began to rain. They said little the rest of the
way, even when Tracey reached for his hand and gave it a gentle
squeeze.

Back at Walnut Ridge, Tracey had
snuggled into his arms for a hug at the door before they parted.
“It was unforgettable, Noah. The food, that historic old house, the
bizarre ride home . . . what a night.” She leaned up
to kiss him on his cheek, then she was gone.

On his way back to the cottage, he
wondered how such a perfect evening had been so quickly hijacked by
the familiar, gripping oppression. He’d wanted tonight to be
special‌—‌a chance to tell Tracey how much he liked her, how he
found himself thinking of her first thing in the morning and the
last thing at night. But he wasn’t sure he conveyed any of that to
her. Instead, he’d been consumed with fighting off the haunting tug
in the most fragile place in his heart.

Maybe he was fooling himself. Maybe
Melissa would forever live on, her memory so deeply imprinted into
his soul, leaving no room for anyone else. Guilt gnawed at his gut,
once again plaguing him with the peculiar thread of unfaithfulness
to his wife.

As he unlocked the cottage door, Noah
pushed everything out of his mind, trying to pinpoint his sole
focus on the image of Tracey’s face and the comfort he’d found
there.

If only that were enough.

Chapter 17

The next couple of days
flew by. Tracey couldn’t get the strange night out of her mind, but
did her best to sidestep her concerns as she and Alex worked long
hours to finish the pieces to showcase in the shop. Occasionally
they’d stop for a quick bite, but little else. She’d asked Alex if
it was okay for her to take Saturday off, even asking if her sister
would like to go along. Alex gave her
the
look.

“
But why not?” Tracey
gently sanded the first coat of an armoire. “Think how nice it
would be to take a break. All that fresh air in your lungs? C’mon,
Alex, please?”

Alex continued painting an old rocker.
“First, I’m not a biker. Never have been. Never will
be.”

“
But how do
you‍—‍”

“
Second, I would much
rather stay here and have a day with no interruptions. I’ll cue up
one of my audio books and lose myself here with my
kids.”

“
I know, but wouldn’t
you‍—‍”

“
And third‍—‍” she looked
up briefly, her eyes narrowing as she scratched her nose, “I
have
no
idea what
I was going to say. But thank you for asking, sister dearest. You
go, have fun, enjoy the ride, and don’t worry about me.”

“
I’m not worried about
you. I’d just like to see you do something fun now and then. All
you ever do is work.”

“
I disagree, but the
bottom line is, I’m having a blast doing this, Tracey. I
love
it. And I would not
enjoy this trip. To be honest, I still hate
motorcycles. I have to pray my sanity back every time Dad
takes off on Stella. I’ve seen the remains of too many motorcycle
accidents on the news. I can’t get those images out of my mind. I
could never ‘enjoy’ spending a day on one.” She feigned a shiver.
“Never, never, never.”

“
Okay, okay.” Tracey blew
her hair out of her eyes. “I get it. No motorcycles. But would you
just spend some time away from all this while we’re gone? If you
won’t do it for yourself, do it for me.”

“
Why would I do it for
you?”

“
Because I asked!” Tracey
teased. “I forgot how stubborn you are!”

Alex touched up a couple spots on the
rocker then balanced her brush across the top of the paint can.
“Ah, I’m just stubborn because that’s what you expect me to be. I’m
just a little teddy bear. You know that.”

“
Yeah, right.”

Alex stood up, stretching her arms
over her head. “Trace, is everything okay with you and Noah? I
haven’t seen him up at the house much these past couple of
days.”

Tracey pushed the annoying
strands of hair from her face with the back of her wrist. “We’re
fine. Not that we’re a
we
. To be honest, I’m not quite sure
what we are.”

“
Are you okay with that?
Not knowing?”

“
I think so. I’m just
trying to give him space until he’s‍—‍” She looked up at her sister
standing over her. “Until he’s ready for
us
to be an
us
. If that makes sense.”

Alex brushed the hair out of Tracey’s
face, tucking it beneath the bandana her sister wore. “It makes
perfect sense. And I’m glad you’re willing to give him that space.
He’ll come around. Eventually.”

“
You really think so?
Sometimes I see this far-away look in his eyes, and I
wonder.”

Alex squatted beside her. “Yes, Trace.
I believe he’ll come around. And I think you’re just the person to
be there for him when he does.”

Just before sunrise on Saturday, the
bikers gathered at Walnut Ridge. As Tracey stepped out on the front
porch, she watched as most of them busily buffed the finish on
their Harleys. Buddy opened the door and joined her.

“
Why are they all
polishing their bikes now? Won’t they just get dirty once they get
on the road?”

Buddy handed her his extra pair of
protective sunglasses. “It’s a biker thing, sweetie. It’s like
those show dog competitions on TV. You always see their owners
fussing over them at the last minute, brushing their coats to
perfection. That’s exactly how we feel about our Harleys. I suppose
it’s a pride thing, wanting our machines to glisten in the
sunlight. Look real sleek and classy while we’re on the road.
Besides,” he said, heading down the steps, “Stella never lets me
ride until she feels adequately pampered.”

Tracey followed her father down the
steps. “So why aren’t you over there dusting her off?”

He grinned. “Stella likes to get up
early. I gave her the spa treatment before any of these yokels
showed up. She’s pristine and raring to go, don’t you
think?”

Tracey admired his glistening bike,
shaking her head. “Stella, Stella, Stella. You are one lucky
girl.”

Noah joined them, wiping his hands on
a cloth. “Morning, Tracey.”

“
Hi, Noah. Hey, that
reminds me. I never asked‌—‌do you have a name for your
bike?”

He smiled. “Sure.”

She waited, he said nothing.
“Okay . . . is it a secret or would you mind telling
me?”

“
Bike.”

“
Bike?”