Home to Walnut Ridge (7 page)

His mind switched gears, brimming with
ideas for the smokehouse conversion. When Buddy first mentioned the
idea, he wasn’t sure if he should commit to helping. He still
hadn’t heard back from Dawson’s people about the concerts they had
scheduled between now and the holidays. Last he heard, Beau Dawson
was having some kind of problem with his vocal cords and his
doctors hadn’t signed off for him to go back on the road yet. Noah
wondered if the problem was indeed medical or if Dawson was having
marital problems again.

None of it mattered to Noah. He wasn’t
invested in their lives, as such. He was nothing more than hired
help. Most folks in the business just knew him as “Beau Dawson’s
guitar guy” and didn’t bother with his name. Which suited Noah just
fine. He’d lived in that world of who’s-who once and didn’t miss
it.

He iced down a glass of water and took
a seat on the sofa, stretching his legs out on the coffee table. He
really liked it here at the cottage. When Buddy first offered the
place to him, he told him thanks but no thanks. At the time, he’d
been unattached from anyone and anything for quite a while. He
wasn’t ready to be tied down, least of all to a place of his own.
Then, the more he thought about it, the more the idea grew on
him.

He’d liked Buddy from the first time
they met on a weekend bike trip over to the Blue Ridge Mountains. A
couple of the other roadies were Harley riders and invited him on
one of their weekend trips. Noah had learned to love the open road
and never passed up a chance to ride. On that particular trip, he’d
been curious about the guy everyone called Buddy. He seemed
genuine, but you never know about the religious ones. Buddy wasn’t
obnoxious about all that, but it slipped into conversation now and
then. For some reason, coming from this guy with the fun-loving
smile and white ponytail, it seemed natural. Just a part of who he
was.

Noah sunk down into the leather sofa
and rested his head against the cushion. His mind drifted back to
that first night they’d talked beside a fire pit on the campground
where they stopped for the night. Buddy had asked him where he was
from. He’d mentioned growing up in Virginia, and how much he loved
playing sports. Undergraduate degree from Florida State and his
graduate work at Harvard Law School.

“
Harvard!” Buddy had
marveled. “Didn’t realize I was in the presence of an Ivy
Leaguer.”

“
I keep that to myself
most of the time,” Noah had said. “That’s all ancient history
now.”

“
Really? You never
practiced law after graduating?”

“
I did. For a
while.”

“
Where was that, if you
don’t mind my asking?”

“
New York City. I had a
lot of doors opened to me along the way.”

Buddy had waited, probably expecting
some kind of explanation. Noah hesitated, then realized the guy
seemed sincerely interested. And so he began telling him his story.
About his successes on Wall Street as a finance attorney. About his
wife who he’d married the day after graduation from law school.
About their life together in the Big Apple.

And then he’d stopped. The break in
his voice seemed as good a sign as any to draw the line. Why burden
a stranger with all that?

“
Noah, you probably don’t
know this, but I used to be a pastor.”

“
Oh?”

“
I’m not doing that
anymore, but I still have a good ear, and I still do a good bit of
counseling now and then. Which means, my friend, I still know how
to tell when someone’s burdened with heartache.” He’d leveled his
gaze at Noah. “So if you need someone to talk to, son, I’d be
honored to listen.”

Noah remembered staring at Buddy,
seeing the kindness in his eyes as the reflection of the fire
danced around them. He had a feeling the man looking at him could
surely see all the way to his soul.

“
Melissa . . .” he’d whispered.

“
Your wife?”

Noah nodded because he
couldn’t speak. Buddy seemed to have all the time in the world.
When Noah dug in his pocket for his handkerchief, Buddy had patted
his knee. As if to say
take as long as you
need.
When he could, he tried
again.

He told Buddy of the April
day he’d been tied up in court with a judge who had a serious
God-complex. Noah knew if he had left, the case would be thrown
out, and his firm would reassign him to the mailroom. He’d texted
Melissa, apologizing profusely and promising he’d meet her at the
address she’d sent him as soon as he could. She had found the
perfect loft for them to buy in Soho, and wanted him to see it so
they could make an offer before someone else snapped it up.
Hopefully, they’d wait until he got there. Her text came back
immediately‌—‌
HURRY!

A half-hour later he’d dashed from the
court house in the pouring rain and flagged down a cab. He was
soaked by the time one stopped. As soon as he settled into the back
seat, he dialed her repeatedly but couldn’t reach her.

“
Traffic was at a
standstill,” he’d told Buddy. “I was about to crawl out of my skin,
and I remember yelling at the cab driver to turn at the next light
and take a different way. He yelled back, but I couldn’t understand
a single word . . . I remember shouting at him,
telling him if he was gonna live and work in the U.S., he should
learn the blasted language.”

Noah looked up at Buddy. “Though in a
somewhat more colorful choice of words.”

Buddy smiled.

“
I finally gave up, threw
some money at him and decided to make a run for it. And that’s
when . . . that’s when . . . I saw
her . . .”

Buddy waited several moments, then
quietly asked, “You saw her?”

Noah shook his head. “Not her. Her
car.” He cleared his throat and tried again. “Or what was left of
it.”

“
Oh no,” Buddy
groaned.

Noah attempted a smile.
“She’d always loved Volkswagen Beetles. I’d given it to her two
years earlier on her birthday. It was bright red. I ordered a
vanity plate‌—‌
My Lil’ Bug.
And Melissa, she always kept a bunch of daisies
in the little vase on the dash. She loved daisies. And she really
loved that car.” He swallowed hard. “So I knew immediately it was
hers. The driver’s side had been broadsided by a delivery truck
that ran a red light. The truck driver, a bicycle courier, and
Melissa were all killed.”

Lost in the fog of those memories,
Noah startled as his ringing cell phone pulled him back to the
present. Alex’s number appeared on the phone’s small screen. Noah
almost answered, then stopped. Instead, he silenced the ring
without connecting the call. She and Buddy had invited him up to
the house for dinner as they often did. He’d actually intended to
go. But the lingering trace of melancholy drifting through him gave
him pause.

He tapped the phone against his
forehead and closed his eyes. He couldn’t put it in words, this
sadness that sometimes washed over him. Sometimes he could almost
visualize it‌—‌like thick ribbons of fog seeping through a crack in
his armor, or drifting like a mighty wave through an open door.
Eerie, dark, snaking through him until it reached fingers around
his heart and squeezed‌—‌tighter and tighter until he could hardly
breathe. He’d learned to fight it, mentally slamming the door on
the despair before it overwhelmed him and left him drained and
despondent. Again.

Noah opened his eyes and slowly
exhaled. He hated these moments and knew the easiest way to keep
them at bay was by doing something else, going somewhere, escaping.
It was why he loved his Harley. He raked his fingers through his
hair and got up, tossing the half-eaten apple into the trash. He
retrieved his phone and listened to Alex’s message.

“
Hey, Noah, it’s Alex. I
wasn’t sure if you were coming up to dinner or not, but just wanted
you to know we’re having fried catfish tonight. Hope you’ll come.
We’ll eat about seven. Bye.”

He felt a smile tugging at his face.
Buddy and Alex always seemed to be there when he needed them. Even
on voicemail. Alex knew how much he loved catfish. He sent her a
text, then hopped in the shower, hoping to wash away the dust and
filth from the smokehouse.

And if he was lucky, maybe some of the
fog in his heart while he was at it.

“
Noah, c’mon in!” Buddy
chimed as he walked through the back door into the kitchen. “We
were about to give up on you.”

Tracey slid the last biscuit into the
basket and looked up as their guest arrived. His eyes met hers, but
before she could say hello, she couldn’t help noticing how handsome
he looked. He wore a blue chambray shirt beneath a navy cable knit
sweater. The blues brought out the green in his eyes. She smiled.
“Hello, Noah.”

“
Hi, Tracey. I hope I
didn’t hold up dinner. I figured the least I could do was clean up
after crawling under the smokehouse half the day.”

“
And you don’t clean up
half bad for a Yankee,” Buddy teased, carrying a dish of pan fries.
“Grab that bowl of fried okra. I’m starving!”

Alex walked in from the dining room.
“Noah! I’m glad you came. What can I get you to drink?”

“
Iced tea would be
great.”

Tracey covered the biscuits and turned
toward the dining room just as Noah turned to do the same. “Whoa!
Sorry‍—‍” she said, jostling their cargo. A few pieces of okra
spilled from Noah’s dish onto the floor. She leaned down. “I’ll get
them.”

“
No, let me,” he said,
squatting. “I’m such a klutz‍—‍” At that precise moment, they
bumped foreheads. “I’m
so
sorry! Are you okay?” He reached out to steady
her.

Tracey laughed, rubbing her forehead
and trying to ignore his hand on her elbow. “I think so. Though I’m
beginning to wonder about—well, you know‌—‌this morning, when
we‍—‍”

“
Oh, yeah. That.” He
chuckled as his face reddened. “I suppose I should have warned you
that I’ve never been good at introductions.”

“
No problem.” She threw
the fallen okra into the trash. “I have quite a history of falling
down stairs, if that makes you feel good.”

“
Well, now that you
mention it‍—‍”

“
Will you two stop with
the chatter and get the food on the table?” Alex squawked. “I’d
like us to eat before it all gets cold.”

They gathered around the dining room
table, placing the remaining dishes in the center of the
cloth-covered table.

“
Where are all the
others?” Noah asked.

Buddy held out Alex’s chair before
taking his seat at the head of the table. “Tonight’s their bowling
league in town.”

“
Ah, I forgot,” Noah said,
pulling Tracey’s chair out for her.

“
Thank you.”

As Noah took his seat across from her,
Buddy reached out his hands and they followed, holding hands around
the table. “Father, for Your incomparable goodness and blessings,
we thank You. Bless my daughters for the meal they’ve prepared.
It’s in Your name we pray, Lord.”

“
Amen,” they said in
unison.

Over dinner, they discussed the day’s
accomplishments, making a few more suggestions along the way.
Tracey watched Alex bubbling over with ideas, pleased to find her
sister so animated and excited about the prospects of her new
business. It saddened her to think she’d walked away from teaching
because of the town bully. Deacon Stone had always been a pain, but
she was tired of him hurting the people she loved. First Dad, now
Alex. Not to mention the countless others in town he’d squashed
like so many bugs beneath his big fat thumb.

She looked up and caught Noah watching
her. She smiled before taking a sip of tea, curious about the two
little lines between his eyebrows. Frown lines? Worry lines? And
yet, his was a kind face. Alex said something amusing which caught
his attention. He smiled but didn’t laugh.

Tracey forked a piece of the steaming
catfish and gazed at her sister as she took a bite. That moment,
something slowly occurred to her. She’d often wondered why no one
had ever swept Alex off her feet and married her. She was so full
of life and funny, so thoughtful, and the hardest working person
she’d ever known. As she let her eyes drift back toward Noah, she
wondered if there might be something there? She hadn’t had a chance
to ask Alex about Noah‌—‌to find out what brought him to Jacobs
Mill, how long he’d been around, and if he had a wife or family.
She noticed he wasn’t wearing a ring. And obviously, if he had a
home, he’d be having dinner there now, not here. She tore off a
piece of biscuit and made a mental note to talk to Alex after
dinner.