Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
He finds a fallen log and sits, straightens the leg, and rubs where the silver scar sickles around his kneecap. I sit next to him, open a fresh bottle of water I retrieved out of my backpack, and hand it to him. He takes a sip and hands it back.
It’s then, looking out at the horizon crowded with conifers, that I recall why we’re even here and the last of my righteous indignation vanishes. “Taking care of Rowdy by yourself, when he was sick, that must have been hard.”
“Nothing’s hard when you love someone.” He looks at me and my face gets hot. The look in his eyes makes me think he’s no longer speaking about my grandfather. “Once we get back you’re officially done…what are your plans?”
I shake my head. More silence follows, verging on uncomfortable.
“Maren…I miss you. I miss my best friend––so much it hurts.”
His softly spoken words send me into a tailspin.
I miss you too. So much.
I want to scream it, scream it so loud they can hear me throughout the valley. And yet I don’t. My mind plucks the image of Crystal with her head on his shoulder right out of my memory bank and the words stop short and retreat, tucking themselves back onto the same dusty shelf I’ve crammed the rest of our story.
“You had me, Noah.” I get up and pull on my backpack, adjust my straps for the second time. Anything to keep my hands busy. “All of me and you threw it away.”
“I know,” he answers with a slow nod, gets up, and puts on his backpack.
“That’s it? You know?” It’s the defeat I hear in his voice that prompts my reaction, the lack of willingness to explain himself. And the reaction which is on my face is ostensibly saying wtf!
It never sat right with me and I need answers. His actions were so profoundly out of character that had I not seen it with my own eyes, I would never have believed it.
“That’s all you have to say for yourself? Are you even sorry?”
“Sorry doesn’t even begin to describe it,” he responds without meeting my eyes. Turning away from me, he begins walking down the trail.
“Words are cheap, Noah,” I yell at his heels. “And as cheap as they are I don’t hear you saying you wish you could take it back. That you wish things would’ve been different!”
I follow after him, the rest of the hike conducted in silence. And the closer we get to the truck, the more I recognize that having him out of my life is for the best.
* * *
A brush fire on the way home turned an hour-long drive into three hours. Neither of us said a word. That was fun. He parked the truck in my driveway and walked across the street like we were suddenly strangers…maybe not so suddenly. I was too antsy to sit at home so I got back in the truck and drove over to my parents’ house.
While I park at the curb, my mother’s laughter rings out, drifting across the front lawn. Her nose stuck in one of the historical romance novels she loves so much, she doesn’t notice me until I sit on the swing seat next to her on the porch.
“Maren! Goodness, you scared me half to death.” She clutches the paperback to her chest.
“If you didn’t have your face stuffed in that dirty book, you would’ve seen me coming.”
“It’s not dirty, honey. It’s actually quite funny and clever. I think you’d like it. Your sister did.”
“What’s it called?”
“Lord of Scoundrels. One of my all-time favorites.”
“Hmm. I don’t need to read it––I could write the book on him.”
Giving me her patent pity face, my mother throws an arm around my neck and pulls me closer. “How was camping?”
I lay my head on her shoulder and we swing, watching the sun disappear in the distance. “Good then bad.”
“Always thought you and Noah would eventually find a way back to each other.”
“I was hoping we would too.”
“You two always reminded me of a split log.” I glance up at her with a question mark in my eyes. “Different in your own unique way but made of the same stuff.”
“You’ve been readin’ too many romance novels, momma.”
“It’s been a long time, Maren. Can’t you find it in your heart to forgive him?”
“I want to but––”
“People make mistakes, honey. Especially young people. Sometimes we have no choice. Sometimes those mistakes are irrevocable and we are forced to bear them, but when life hands you an opportunity to fix things…” She shakes her head, her full mouth set in a straight, determined line. “Well, then you take it.”
My parents have a great marriage. I think my mother sometimes runs a little roughshod over my father, takes his kindness for granted some. I think my father is an absentee husband sometimes. However, in spite of all that, their love is strong, their marriage solid.