The First Noelle

by Delia Latham

  She shook her head. “A glass chapel! It’s lovely, and so perfect for the setting. Are we going inside?”

  “If you’d like to, of course.”

  “I would. Very much.”

  He unlocked the door, and Noelle preceded him into the glass-walled structure.

  Michael used the mini-church for prayer and worship—with piped-in music and recorded sermons, since he rarely risked attending an actual church service. He stood back and watched her slow glide down the middle aisle, one hand trailing from pew to pew. She made her way to the front, where she turned in a graceful circle, taking in the view from various angles.

  A narrow creek ran just outside one long wall. On the opposite side, a mountain vista sprawled in panoramic glory. Hundreds of evergreen species held proud reign. Showcased amongst the pines and firs, other trees sported the last of their fall attire. Some were stripped bare, stark evidence of the approaching winter. By Christmas Eve it would have frozen out the last vestiges of autumn’s touch.

  But it was the view from the front wall to which Noelle was drawn.

  Michael watched her, drinking in this glimpse of the beautiful woman with her emotional walls down. Without the façade.

  She stepped onto a low platform and made her way to the glass barrier between inside and out. Clearly transfixed, she drank in the view.

  A waterfall dropped from quite a distance up the mountain, poured over three separate tiers in the rock and soil, and culminated in a gorgeous final fall that splashed and splattered in glistening diamond-bursts of rushing water to the lake at its base. Only God could create this kind of splendor—the kind that stole one’s breath, heightened the emotions, and whispered a constant reminder that, prince or pauper, beauty or beast, powerful or insignificant…any one person’s existence created only the finest of threads in the Almighty’s ongoing tapestry of life.

  Michael joined Noelle and made no mention of the tears on her cheeks. Nor did he comment when she swiped at them with one hand and blinked out a rapid attempt at damming the tide of whatever emotion had caught her off guard.

  “So, what do you think? Can you do something spectacular with my little church in the wildwood?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing could make this place any more perfect.”

  He hiked a brow. “I distinctly remember a magazine ad that promised Joy Designs could one-up nature every time.”

  She laughed…a soft, low gurgle that caught his heartstrings in a painful grip and tugged with the force of a winter blizzard. “I may have to retract that one. Here, the best I can do is enhance what G—uhm, what nature has already provided.”

  “God dropped a bit of Eden here in my little glade, didn’t He?”

  Her shoulders stiffened, and Michael heaved an inner sigh. Pain sliced his heart at her clear aversion to any mention of God. Still, Noelle—the real woman—had peered through the frozen façade for an instant. She was in there somewhere, and he wouldn’t stop until he melted the bars of ice around her heart.

  ****

  Noelle banged her hand against the steering wheel. Her weakness back there was unacceptable. Letting down the emotional walls would free that other part of her—the side of her personality that she’d locked away. She had no intentions of ever letting that Noelle see the light of day again.

  What was it about Michael Holliday that chipped at her defenses? And that “moment” in his adorable little glass church? For heaven sake, she’d seen beautiful scenery before. She’d visited a number of different countries, always with an eye to ethnic design and cultural trends. Some of those locations boasted breathtaking scenery. While she appreciated nature’s wonders, she never got emotional about them. Yet today, she’d been moved to tears by a waterfall outside her client’s charming glass chapel right here in the good ol’ USA, a few miles outside her hometown. What had brought on such an uncharacteristic response?

  “Doesn’t matter.” She spoke into the silence of her vehicle. “It won’t happen again.”

  If she hadn’t already signed that dratted contract, she’d call the whole thing off and go back to San Francisco. But she’d worked too hard to build an impeccable reputation for Joy Designs, and she couldn’t afford to destroy it by walking out on the most influential client of her career thus far. She’d stick it out, and she’d deliver her best work ever, leaving Michael Holliday no reason to voice anything but glowing references.

  Then she’d leave Hope Springs again, and this time, she’d erase the route from her memory.

  After letting herself into her parents’ front door, she turned toward the stairs, but a sound outside caught her attention. She peered through the sliding glass doors and all the tension slipped away in an instant, as if some unseen magician waved a magic stress wand that siphoned away worry and angst. A smile lit her face as she crossed the room.

  A number of tiki torches lit the backyard. Seventies music, set at a nice, easy-listening volume, played from the speakers Daddy had installed with meticulous care long before Noelle left Hope Springs. But it wasn’t the music or the lights that kept her frozen in place, enthralled.

  What swelled her heart and shortened her breath were her parents—the sound of their voices, barely loud enough to be heard over the music. The sight of them, so happy together, just as they were in every childhood memory.

  The grilling station had cost far more than her parents could afford way back when. They’d justified the purchase by putting it to frequent use—sometimes entertaining friends, but quite often for their family alone. The Joy patio became as much the heart of their home as was the kitchen in most American residences. So many memories lived under that sturdy awning, around the patio table, and throughout the whole yard.

  Noelle’s lips curved upward despite her earlier vow to use the Ice Princess persona every moment of her stay in Hope Springs. She didn’t need it here, with the two people who’d loved her every moment of her life.

  Her dad wore a tall, white chef’s hat and a pristine white apron—his standard get-up for grilling steaks. He’d long since learned to wield long-handled barbecue tools with flair, and when he put on the hat and apron, something changed inside him. Typically soft-spoken, Dad’s voice was the epitome of culture, perfectly modulated to befit his ministerial role. But on his own patio, grilling steaks with his family and listening to the tunes to which he and her mother had fallen in love, that voice rose to a near boom—a volume he never used in public, and certainly not during the services at Hope Springs House of Joy. Donning his chef’s hat and apron seemed to release a lighter hearted side of the Reverend Kenneth Joy, turning him into the quintessential essence of Noelle’s adored daddy and the unflappable Nancy Joy’s husband.

  At the moment, he held a spatula in one hand, but it didn’t stop him from holding his wife close as they dipped and swayed, laughing into each other’s eyes.

  Noelle’s heart pinched hard. She’d always loved the “dance-capades” her parents put on at every backyard barbecue. Even as a child, and then a teenager and right up until the day her world came crashing down around her knee-length bridal veil, she’d longed for a marriage with the same kind of love and utter devotion this couple had displayed with beautiful consistency all her life.

  Watching them now for the first time since that long-ago Christmas Eve, Noelle was slammed once again by the crushing force of harsh reality. She would never, ever experience that kind of love. In the world of the new and improved Noelle Joy, it did not exist.

  Her father caught sight of her just when she was ready to turn and run.

  “Noey girl!” He dropped a swift kiss on Mom’s forehead and hurried across the patio. “Aren’t you a sight for your poor old Dad’s aging eyes?” Sliding the doors open, he drew her into his arms and rocked from side to side in the familiar, comforting half-dance she remembered so well. “Sweetheart, it’s wonderful to have you home.”

  She wrapped her arms around a waist slightly larger than she remembered and squeezed hard, then
favored him with a smile—a real one. No fake personas allowed on the Joy patio. “I’ve missed you.”

  “And I missed you twice as much.” He led her to the table while her mother watched with a quiet, contented smile. “Sit with Mom, and I’ll finish up at the grill. Everything’s just about ready.”

  “No hurry.” She kissed her mother’s cheek.

  “How did it go, darling?” Mom squeezed her hand. “Who is this mystery client of yours, anyway?”

  “Mom, you would’ve loved this house.” She laughed then, and rolled her eyes. “Except, ‘house’ doesn’t quite do it justice. This guy’s place is more of a small castle.”

  “Hmm.” Her mother’s eyebrows drew together just briefly. She never frowned long enough to risk causing wrinkles. “I wasn’t aware anything like that existed around here.”

  “I’m not surprised. It’s quite secluded.” She reached for a bacon-wrapped jalapeno. In San Francisco, she’d never allow herself such an indulgence, but here in Hope Springs, she didn’t think twice before helping herself to one of her mother’s special appetizers. “There’s an armed guard at the gate. You’d think the place was Fort Knox. And get this—a valet parked my car.” She bit into the luscious pepper treat. “Mmm…luscious! In San Francisco, valet parking is standard service at most upscale venues. But…here? And at a private residence? I did not expect that, but then…it’s Michael Holliday, after all.”

  Her mother’s eyes widened. Her father’s barbecue fork clanged against the cement of the patio floor. Without a second’s hesitation, he plucked another from a drawer in the grilling station and removed the last steak from the grill.

  Noelle grinned.

  Her parents were trying hard to appear unimpressed.

  No one said a word as her father made a show of setting a plate piled with steaks on the table. After removing his hat and apron, he took a seat and reached for each of their hands. “Let’s pray, and then you can tell us more about this ritzy job of yours—and Mr. Holliday, of course. Interesting to know Hope Springs has a celebrity resident.”

  Dad’s steaks defined perfection, as did the grilled veggies. Mom’s scalloped potatoes were to die for. But for Noelle, the best part of the meal was having dinner with her parents at the family home.

  They talked well into the evening, touching on a dozen different topics—everything except the reason Noelle had stayed away so long. Finally, a lull in the constant chatter held for a moment too long, and she set aside her glass of sparkling cider.

  “I’m going to ask, because I need to know. Is he here?” Her lip had taken on a sudden tremble.

  Her parents’ clasped hands revealed nothing except the fact that they still liked a little romance in their lives.

  “Am I likely to run into Trevor while I’m in Hope Springs?”

  3

  Noelle took her father’s arm and floated down the aisle. She peered toward the elaborately decorated wedding arch, eager to catch a glimpse of her groom, but Trevor wasn’t there.

  The church resembled a scene from a Christmas snow globe, or maybe—she caught her breath at the grandiose thought—maybe the cover photo in a bride’s magazine.

  Yards of ribbon and tulle. Roses and poinsettias. Silver bells and mistletoe. A dusting of fake snow over it all. She’d turned Hope Springs House of Joy into something spectacular for the wedding she and Trevor had planned all through college. Now the long-dreamed-of event was finally becoming reality.

  They reached the front of the church. Her father raised the veil and kissed her cheek, and then took his place in the minister’s spot, facing her. Just her. Trevor wasn’t there.

  The best man shot Noelle a nervous glance. She bit down on a bottom lip that trembled.

  “Noey, do you want to go on, or…wait?” Her father whispered beneath the sweet tones of a love song she didn’t recognize. Who had added it without consulting her?

  “Where’s Trevor?” Her voice shook, and she stood straighter, determined to be strong. “Has something happened?”

  “We don’t know, sweetheart.”

  Noelle’s heart glitched. She glanced at the best man, and caught her breath. He’d looked nervous when she’d first noticed him, but now he grinned, and it spread across his face in an impossibly wide stretch of hideous black lips. What…?

  “Trevor’s gone,” he sang in a chilling, sing-songy tune. “Trevor’s gone. Poor little bride’s gotta go back home.”

  Noelle drew back, horrified. A white rose fell from the latticework over her head. She looked up as petals rained down around her. Her confused gaze swept the walls, where loops of tulle hung in shreds, the poinsettias faded, the pristine-white lace turned a dirty yellow.

  What was going on? Why was her wedding falling apart?

  Where was Trevor?

  Turning in slow circles, Noelle’s horrified gaze scanned the wide, wolfish grins on the faces of her guests. They all belted out the hateful “Trevor’s gone” tune along with the best man.

  Panic pounded in her chest like a caged thing. Breathing in short gasps that burned her lungs, she turned to her mother. Mom’s hands circled a single unity candle. Wide eyes and a frozen smile gave her the look of a high-fashion mannequin.

  Noelle’s knees buckled. She stretched a hand toward her mother—the hand that held a dead bridal bouquet. The brittle stems dropped from her numb fingers and fell in slow motion.

  “Mom?” She lurched forward, determined to reach her mother. “Mom? Mom?”

  “Noelle, honey, wake up.” Her mother’s voice called her from the throes of the nightmare. “Everything’s all right, darling. Wake up!”

  She heard the words as if from a distance. Only when someone took hold of her shoulders and gave them a firm shake did her eyes fly open.

  “There, there, darling. I’m here.”

  Noelle fell into her mother’s arms and let the tears fall.

  When sobs died down to little hitches of breath, she tossed back the covers and shot out of bed, unwilling to risk a repeat of that nightmare wedding. She pushed her arms through the sleeves of a plush robe and slid her feet into warm slippers. “Coffee,” she mumbled. “I need coffee.”

  Within moments, the bracing aroma of strong French roast scented the air. The smell alone provided an odd strength.

  Noelle hugged her mother and kissed her cheek. “Go on back to bed, Mom. It’s early. I’m going to stay up for a while.”

  “You don’t need to be alone.”

  “I’m fine, Mom. Go to bed.” She managed a smile, but it hurt. “I want to sit out on the patio and enjoy the quiet.”

  The quiet wasn’t as enjoyable—or as quiet—as she’d anticipated. The noise in her head and heart spoiled the peace of the early morning.

  Welcome home.

  She set her empty cup on a tiny table next to her lounge chair, curled her body into as tight a ball as she could manage, and gave in to the gully washer she’d known was in the offing. Maybe it would loosen the painful knot in her soul.

  ****

  Downtown Hope Springs epitomized Small Town, USA. One major intersection and a few streets lined with Mom-and-Pop businesses. A small post office that had been a wood-framed residence a century or so ago. A couple of diners that were slowly being phased out by incoming fast-food chains. The town prided itself in the small library, which boasted a surprising array of literary contents, from the classics to what the old-timers referred to as “modern mind-garbage.”

  Noelle walked into the slow bustle of Hope Springs’ business “hub” around noon, the day after enduring that hellish nightmare. She needed fresh air before heading out to Holliday House. Michael had informed her that’s what he called the place, so she needed to start thinking of it in that way. At least it sounded more welcoming than The Holliday Mansion.

  She would spend the afternoon soaking up atmosphere in the rooms she’d be decorating. Getting a feel for a place, familiarizing herself with its contents and day-to-day ambiance was step one in every
job she contracted. Those things weighed heavily on how she continued with her design plans.

  Hope Springs hadn’t changed much. She was glad, though she couldn’t have said why it mattered. Whatever the reason, she derived a certain comfort and sense of belonging from its familiarity.

  She found herself grinning as she approached the general mercantile, which still wore the exterior color she remembered. The same weathered sign still hung over the door. Tennerman’s Five and Dime. That sign was one good reason for the grin. Oscar Tennerman hadn’t sold anything for a nickel or dime in so many years he’d probably forgotten what small change looked like.

  As far back as Noelle could remember, Tennerman’s had also housed a narrow diner along one long, interior wall. Local teens had loved to gather there for after-school sodas and ice cream sundaes and for burgers and fries on Saturday afternoons. Despite the old owner’s bulldoggish appearance and gruff voice, he’d loved the young folks of Hope Springs, spurred them on in academic endeavors, bragged them up when they succeeded, and growled words of comfort and encouragement when they didn’t.

  On a whim, Noelle went inside. She ran no risk of running into Trevor. Her parents said he’d never returned home after hightailing it out of Hope Springs on Christmas Eve a decade back. His parents had received a brief communication, months later, that let them know he was alive. If they’d heard from him since, they never spoke of it to the Joys.

  Noelle felt for them. The Holdens had been like second parents up until Trevor destroyed her life. She knew how much they adored their youngest son. They’d lost their firstborn in a tragic car accident when the young man was barely seventeen. Trevor had been ten, and the loss of his big brother devastated him.

  James and Janet held themselves together for Trevor, but even as a child, Noelle noticed the sadness in their eyes, the absence of smiles, the darkness that hovered over them like a cloud. Especially Janet. And then Trevor’s disappearance shocked the entire town. That had to hurt even more, losing another son, and this time by his own choice.