At the cemetery? He almost laughed, then sobered. A cemetery could lead to serious thought and conversation. This trip had done that. He and Megan had talked about serious matters for the first time.
Did Megan think this was a game? Michael disappears and Noah appears on the scene to compete for her? Or because Michael had taken Loretta away from him, he would try and take Megan from Michael?
Did she think he’d play fast and loose with her affections?
Try to win her over?
Should he tell her he would never do that?
Never?
Could he tell Megan he was not interested in her?
Lie?
To show interest in Megan could destroy Michael’s fragile faith in him and in God.
Not to show interest would eliminate him from any possibility with this woman who already... No, just pray, Noah.
He could be honest enough to say, “No, I don’t compete now. I try to live the way the Lord directs in my life, and it’s not a game.”
He reminded himself anew that if Michael took his advice, he would surrender to the Lord, put the past behind him and deserve a wonderful woman like Megan. This was not just between him and Megan and Michael. God was in on it.
She stepped over, stood in front of him and touched his arm. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You must have—”
He felt the vibration of his phone. He reached back and took it from his pocket.
Megan stepped aside.
“Lizzie,” he said. “She’s right here.” He thrust the phone toward Megan.
She took the phone and spoke into it. “I’m fine. We’re at the cemetery. I left my phone in the car. Yes, I’ll have Noah drop me off at Aunt B’s. Be there in a few minutes.” After listening for a while, she said, “I’ll tell him. Bye.”
She lifted her eyebrows, closed the phone and handed it to him. “They want me back. I feel an Aunt B lecture coming on.”
“You mind that?”
“I love it.” She smiled. “Aunt B has a way of putting things into perspective.”
“You’re surrounded by wonderful friends.”
“I know,” she said.
On the way to drop her off at Miss B’s and seeing that the cemetery visit had not brought her to tears, he ventured to say, “Could we try again with our...business about my furniture?”
She glanced at him. “You have more cloth napkins?”
He grinned. “And a tablecloth.”
They both were trying to keep the mood light, but she seemed tense when she got out of the car at Miss B’s. He saw the trucks at the cottage and men working. He’d like to check on the progress but had a couple of other appointments. He backed up in the cottage driveway to turn the car. Megan stood on Miss B’s porch. She fanned her face, making him wonder if her tears had started again.
He wondered what Miss B’s perspective would be on Megan’s having cried all morning.
SweetiePie and Mudd stood near the edge of the lawn at the driveway, watching him as if wondering what he was doing there.
“Frankly,” he said aloud, feeling his brow furrow. “I don’t really know.”
Chapter 13
Noah awoke to a light breeze on his face from an open upstairs window, the morning sun beginning to rim the horizon and Megan on his mind. She’d been the last thing on his mind before going to sleep and now he prayed for her again.
He had a cup of coffee while dressing and hurried out to the fitness center to meet up with Symon and Paul. After the swim he returned to his house for Bible reading and a quick breakfast. He needed to do a lot of work at the office.
He was deep into the work when about midmorning the call came through.
“Corabeth Yarwood on line one,” Miss Jane said.
Miss B? He felt like a kid in a classroom again. But he’d never had to fear her. He just didn’t want to displease her. Or Megan. Or her friends. But if he had, he thought how great it would be to just get a rap on the knuckles with a ruler and be done with it.
Not so with adults. You had to endure disappointment. Theirs and your own.
“Miss B?”
“Good morning, Noah.” She sounded proper. And pleasant. “Are you stopping by the cottage this morning?”
He’d done that most days. That is, when he wasn’t having breakfast with Megan and taking her to the cemetery. “That’s on my schedule.”
“You might stop in and talk with us for a while, if you have time.”
“I’ll make time.”
“Thank you, Noah. I’ll look forward to seeing you.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you for calling.”
He hung up and then breathed. He didn’t think it was work on her house she was calling about. Likely, Symon would have done that if needed. He wouldn’t be surprised if she demanded he tell what he knew about Michael or that he just let Megan be.
He wanted her respect now even more than when he was a child in school. And he wanted to be real friends with Symon and Paul. If he could come out with explanations about Michael, everything would be easier. But becoming friends by abandoning Michael wouldn’t be right.
A scoff escaped his throat at that. It was Michael who had done the abandoning. Noah didn’t know where he was or what he was doing. He’d just have to pray, and muddle through, wondering how God was going to work all this out for good.
He took the company van and lectured himself to pray, let go and stop worrying because that wouldn’t solve anything. He’d best turn on some music and sing along. So he did. And looking out along the squares and lovely historic residences, he felt the joy of his blessings. He had so much to be thankful for.
He was still counting his blessings when he turned into the drive at Miss B’s. As he neared the cottage he saw Megan’s car.
He exited the van and looked around but saw no one, although he heard the familiar, welcome sound of hammering. Walking around to the other side of the cottage and seeing the progress, he felt even better. The frame revealed how far into the trees the cottage would extend. It would blend in well with the landscape and make for pleasant rooms closer to the creek.
The screen door opened and Symon walked out. “What do you think?” he said with a nod toward the sound of busy workers talking, laughing and hammering while SweetiePie and Mudd played in the creek.
Noah lifted his brows. “More important is what you think.”
“Annabelle,” he said and grinned, “is pleased with how it’s looking.”
“Good,” Noah said. “And I’m pleased with the progress they’re making. Coming along fast, but they know we never put speed over quality.” He paused. “Miss B wants to see me.”
“I know.” Symon turned serious and tucked his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans. “Annabelle called me and said the same. I thought it was probably to discuss...” He lifted his gaze toward the sky and back again. “...more wedding plans.”
Noah shook his head. “I may be in hot water. Megan cried at my house yesterday. Then I took her to the cemetery. I may not be in Miss B’s good graces.”
“Only one way to find out.”
Noah had no choice but to go along with Symon. They walked up the path and through Miss B’s beautifully landscaped yard. Everything was pristine, lush and green beneath moss-laden oaks and tall fragrant magnolias.
They walked across her patio. Symon knocked on the screen and called, “Coming in.” Then he looked at Noah. “Never know if somebody might be in a wedding dress. Seeing that before the wedding would be a disaster. Frankly,” he lowered his voice and paused a moment, “I doubt that I’ll notice anything but that beautiful woman becoming my wife.”
An instant of envy swept over Noah. A longing for someone special for himself. Why such a thought entered his mind, he didn’t kno
w. Well, yes, he did. He was a human being with all the instincts, hopes and feelings of any other human.
He focused on the positive. He was pleased that Symon offered his friendship. But he wondered how things would go after this meeting.
He wondered if he would have had the chance to be Symon’s friend if Megan had not been friends with Annabelle. Symon had asked for his card at the book signing, so they might have related on a business level.
If Michael had stayed here and with the company, he could have been the one supervising or working on the cottage—and relating to Megan.
But Megan and Michael were not together, and it seemed Noah was here to help them get back together. So far, he wasn’t doing too well.
They stopped at an interior door, where Symon called, “Still coming.”
“It’s okay,” Annabelle answered, and they went inside and entered the kitchen.
Megan, Lizzie, Annabelle and Miss B looked up and stared at Noah. Miss B, in her welcoming way, said, “I’m glad you’re here, Noah. We’ve been talking about you.”
“Yeah,” Lizzie said accusingly. “I heard you started a flood.”
Seeing the amusement on the faces of everyone but Megan, Noah chanced saying, “No. I don’t start floods. I build arks.”
They reacted appreciatively, as if he’d said something clever.
“Maybe your dad named you Noah because he’s a builder and wanted you to become one,” Miss B said. She was a lovely woman, even in her sixties. Refined, yet pleasant.
“They have said that. Since Dad and his dad are builders, they like to tell others that’s why they named me Noah.” He laughed lightly. “I don’t know why Dad was named Clarence.”
Symon pulled out a chair from the table that sat near the windows with a view of the patio. He motioned for Noah to sit, then took a chair next to Annabelle. When those two looked at each other, Noah felt that longing he’d felt a short while before.
That changed quickly when he sat and Miss B said, “Megan told us about the waterworks.”
Megan blinked and Lizzie ordered, “Don’t do it, Megan. Remember, yesterday you looked like SweetiePie on her bad hair days.”
Noah didn’t know what to say, but coming from his mouth were the words, “I don’t have another napkin on me.”
Megan looked across at him and quipped, “I plan to replace that one with a box of tissues.”
Ah. Did that mean she considered coming to his house again, even though her floodgates might open? The possibility touched his heart. He didn’t like to think the relationship was over before it even started.
He looked around quickly. Relationship?
There wasn’t one.
Not personal, that is.
Couldn’t be.
Miss B said in her authoritative way, as if there was no room for rebuttal, “We have a few more invitations to hand address, then we’ll have coffee and discuss those waterworks.”
Before any more could be said, Willamina appeared in the doorway with her hands on her hips and spoke as sassily as she looked. “How you people expect me to fix your lunch with you sitting around in my kitchen?”
“Oops.” Miss B stood. “We’ll just gather these things and move to the dining room.”
The women put their materials in boxes. With arms loaded, they left the kitchen. As Noah followed along behind Symon, Willamina stood inside the kitchen and stopped him. “And you, Mr. Noah. I have a bone to pick with you.”
Staring into dark, wide eyes that meant business, he said, “Yes, ma’am.” He’d heard the pen is mightier than the sword. He feared words might be more powerful than bullets. Even the cook was going to put in what he suspected would be more than her two cents’ worth.
Maybe these relationships he desired with this group had ended before they started.
Chapter 14
Megan and the others took their stacks of envelopes into the dining room. Annabelle laid sheets of stamps on the table. “We don’t want to exclude you fellows.” She smiled in her beautiful way. “There are only about a hundred of these.”
Symon lifted his chin and sniffed the aroma when Willamina brought a pot of freshly made coffee and set it on the sideboard. Aunt B gave a warning. “Wedding invitations and coffee are not a good combination on the dining room table.” He sat beside Annabelle and reached for the stamps.
“Just be sure they’re not crooked or upside down,” Annabelle said, looking at Symon and then at Noah. Symon smirked and thrust his stamps toward her. She hit his arm and then they grinned at each other.
Megan loved their playful way. She thought of Michael. He’d had an outgoing way about him that attracted others. At least he did before he had the flu that seemed to have taken his energy. She couldn’t blame him for that.
She’d detected a bit of humor about Noah as he and Symon lifted their eyebrows and moved farther down the table to apply stamps to addressed envelopes as they were finished. Noah seemed serious, applying stamps to the corners of the envelopes carefully and deliberately. The fingernails on his strong-looking hands were well-groomed. She supposed he supervised more than he wielded a hammer. If he gave a report to Michael on how she was doing, he’d probably say, after all her tears, he might need to build that ark he’d mentioned to Lizzie.
But the tears hadn’t been about Michael. At least, not all of them. And that’s what Aunt B wanted to talk to them about. But for now, the conversation was about the wedding plans.
The outdoor wedding would take place on Miss B’s beautiful front lawn and the reception would be out back.
“It’s going to be a simple service,” Annabelle said. “People see me when I speak at churches or model and crowds go to Symon’s book signings. We want it to be more private than that.”
Symon explained further. “One of our songs will be ‘The Love of God,’ a hymn that says His love is far greater than tongue or pen can ever tell. The tongue refers to Annabelle’s speaking engagements and my writing novels.”
He glanced at each of his friends. “Thanks to everyone here,” he said, “I realize the importance of allowing God to be first in our lives. We want to acknowledge that we are bonded, and led, by more than human love.”
Then Symon addressed Noah directly. “I have not made a lot of friends here and only a few are coming from New York and other places. Noah, of course, you’re invited.”
“And bring a friend or two if you’d like,” Annabelle added.
“Like you, Symon,” Noah said, “I’ve been away from Savannah for a while. I’d like to invite just my parents, if that’s all right.”
“Give me the address,” Miss B said and wrote as he stated it.
When they finished with the stamps and Annabelle laid the envelopes aside, they fixed their coffee. Megan could tell Noah had been pleased by the invitation. But now he was being as careful as she about where to sit. Symon and Annabelle settled across from each other and near Aunt B, who was at the head of the table. When Noah pulled out a chair next to Symon, Megan took a seat on the opposite side, leaving the place across from Noah for Lizzie.
Willamina headed for the kitchen and stopped in the doorway, hands on hips. “Don’t worry about not talking loud enough while I’m fixing lunch. I’ve got plenty of glasses in here I can put against the wall.”
“Now, Willamina,” Miss B said lightheartedly. “We know good and well you’ll tell us to speak up if you can’t hear us.”
“That I will,” she said in her sassy way and disappeared into the kitchen.
Noah didn’t lift his cup to his mouth but focused on Aunt B.
“First,” Aunt B said, “Noah, I want to thank you for serving in the military.”
His face deepened with color. “My reasons for going weren’t entirely noble.”
“But you went. And y
ou stayed. And I’m sure you endured much that you prefer to forget or don’t want to talk about.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He stared into his cup.
“You must be glad that time has ended.”
He quickly glanced to her face. His barely perceptible nod indicated he knew Aunt B was not making idle chat or any expected patriotic compliment about his service. All the others at the table had come to know Aunt B as a friend, a mom and a psychiatrist. Now she was a teacher in her dining room and including Noah.
He seemed to know where she was headed. With a slow blink he said, “It never really ends.”
Her smile invited him to continue.
“I’ve been on the front lines and have seen all the atrocities you can imagine and more. It will always bother me.” The moment of pain on his face softened. “So will the loss of my grandfather when I was eight. He was the most important person in my life at that time.”
“And you still miss him.”
“With pain and pleasure. When I was young, I missed the fishing trips, his teaching me to play football. But I’ll always have that in my memory. Now, I miss his wisdom.”
“You seem to have your life in perspective.”
He shook his head. “I’m working on it.”
“Well,” she said, “that is a lifelong journey.”
He grinned and nodded. “It’s like the chaplain explained. In life we’re faced with combat every day. It may be as minor as getting up and going to a job one doesn’t like. It may be facing—” His words stopped at that moment, knowing what Aunt B was getting at. He took a deep breath, then continued. “Facing loss.” His words became more confident. “That’s why the scripture tells us to put on the armor of God every day. We’re in a war. We never know when that grenade might be thrown.”
Aunt B nodded. “Or be overwhelmed by the memory of one thrown in the past.”
They were conversing on equal ground. Noah nodded then. “Whether on the military battlefield or right here at home.”
“That’s what I wanted us to talk about today. Life’s grenades.” She smiled, pleased. “I’d never thought of that description, but I like it.”
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