“Is this it? Are we here?”
“Yup! This is their humble abode.”
Noah parks the rental, flings his seatbelt off and opens the car door. I follow suit, bypass our luggage and free my shirt of wrinkles so that I’m somewhat presentable.
“Ready?” he asks. He hooks an arm in mine.
“All set. Lead the way.”
He guides me along a paved walkway lined with beautiful shrubbery and fall foliage. The remaining leaves have all turned to radiant orange and rust, a first time treat for this California girl. While I love my seventy degree days, I’d also love to experience the change in seasons. In fact, from the little I know about autumn in New Jersey, it’s unseasonably warm and muggy for October so I’m probably not getting the full effect. Even still, I’m intrigued by what’s behind door number one.
With one more nervous step closer to the porch, said door swings open with an uppity woman as our greeter. “Oh my God! You’re here! I’m so happy you’re here, baby.” Noah’s mom runs down the steps, onto the walkway, and straight into Noah’s embrace.
“Hi, Ma. Happy to see you too.” He kisses her on the cheek, lingering long enough to make me proud of the loving son he is. “Mom, in case you were too blinded by my insane handsomeness to notice . . . this is Willow. My girl.”
Noah’s mom ends their hug and throws her hands to her flushed cheeks. She steps back and appraises me with a favorable, welcoming smile. “Oh, my. Look at you. You’re even prettier than my son let on.” Without warning, her arms wrap snuggly around my neck as she rocks me back and forth in a motherly squeeze. “Welcome, darling. Thank you for being here for my Noah, and for us. This means the world to us.” With her hands still gripping my arms, she leans back and our eyes meet. “This is long overdue. I can’t say the circumstances are ideal, but we’ll make the best of it. Having you here is a great start. Now, come on in. You must be exhausted from your travels.”
Mrs. Matheson takes my hand in one of hers and Noah’s in the other. She drags us down the rest of the walkway, up the three steps of the porch, and through the front door. I look over to Noah, giddy with anticipation. He shrugs, shakes his head and mouths, “Sorry.”
I wink and blow him a kiss. What can he possibly be sorry about? I’m the one who should apologize for working my way into his heart and now into his childhood home. I can’t give him everything a proper future should hold, so I don’t belong in it. Getting closer, moments like these, becoming part of all aspects of his life—it’s a mistake. I want to be here in the worst way, but I know deep down I shouldn’t.
As much as it kills me to think it, I’ll get through the next few days as best I can, pretending I won’t have to end this before it really begins.
Mom’s not as bad as I thought she’d be. Having Willow to fuss over has taken her mind off everything else. After showing Willow around the house, we convene in the kitchen for a Box O’ Joe. Our freshly ground and brewed coffee would usually be served with homemade cookies or pie, but the power is still out so the Entenmann’s and Dunkin’ Donuts will have to do.
“I can’t tell you how mortified I am to have to serve this store bought garbage, but looks like we’ll be living off cereal and canned goods for a little while longer.” My mother should be worried about so many other things, but it’s just her dignified nature to fret about Willow’s first impression of her.
My favorite girl sips her coffee and eases my other favorite girl’s ruffled feathers with a shake of her head. “Don’t be silly, Mrs. Matheson. You shouldn’t be concerned with catering to us. I’m sure there are so many other things you want to accomplish. I hope my presence won’t hinder you from going about your business. And I want to help any way I can. Please just tell me what I can do.”
“Nonsense, my dear. First of all, call me Nancy. Second, you’re not in the way. I can’t tell you how happy I am to finally set eyes on you, and I hope Sean gets his butt home soon so he can meet Noah’s special lady. This is a much needed distraction, honey. You have no idea how scared we were. I’m actually glad we can’t use the television. Part of me likes being naïve to what’s really going on out there.”
I interject with a snort. “Yeah, you definitely don’t want to venture out there just yet. You might faint when you see the Brickman’s place. And forget about what we saw driving past Cedar Grove. The devastation is so much worse than I—”
“Noah!” Both Willow and my mother yell, interrupting my insensitivity.
My mother breaks out in tears and Willow slaps me on the back of the head. “Why would you tell her that, you idiot?”
They’ve known each other all of three minutes and already she’s defending her? Fuck, I’m screwed. “I’m sorry, Ma. I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just trying to prepare you.”
“No, no. It’s okay.” She sniffles and wipes her nose with one of Dad’s handkerchiefs. “Your father went out to Westmont High—it served as a shelter during the storm. He donated some old clothes we were getting rid of and brought a bunch of extra toiletries from his . . . collection . . . because they were in need of soap and toothpaste and things like that. We’re thinking of taking a ride down there again tomorrow. We want to volunteer our help. Communities need to come together in times like this. I can’t sit here like a lump on a log and do nothing.”
She’s right, and staying here in the dark without electricity or much to do will drive us all up a wall. “I think that’s a great idea. I’ll see what I can find out about any clean-ups or Red Cross sites that may need volunteers too. Willow and I might as well make the best out of our time here, and I should probably stop by my house to make sure there’s nothing Dad missed.”
It will be weird going back, especially with Willow beside me, but I want her to see it. It’s crossed my mind in the last few days that if things go the way I’ve imagined, my East coast home might become hers too. That is, of course, depending whether she’s willing to leave San Diego for part of the year. Who knows? There are so many things up in the air right now, I can hardly think straight. But the one thing I am sure of is Willow. I’ve never felt so complete before. As I watch her interact with my mother, sitting at my old kitchen table and just being here—my hearts beat stronger than it ever has.
“Hey,” I nudge her with my elbow. “I’ll get the luggage and settle our stuff. You okay letting this one talk your ear off?”
My mother clucks her tongue and Willow huffs. “Would you stop it? She’s lovely. Just as you told me she would be. I’m fine right here, unless you need my help?”
I wouldn’t mind stealing her away for a kiss, maybe even to fool around in my old room—because not only is my heart happy, but my dick can’t stop thinking about getting her alone to myself. All this bringing her home to meet the folks stuff is a weird turn-on. I lean down and kiss her on the forehead. These two ladies will soon be fast friends.
I have nothing to worry about, unless Mom starts prodding her about the future. Willow doesn’t know I already have one foot in the door of Tiffany’s, ready to purchase the most expensive damn diamond I can find. I love her like I’ve never loved a woman before. My emotions may seem hasty, but as I’ve said before, when you know, you know. And right now, witnessing my mother enamored by this woman, I’m certain she’s the one I’m meant to spend the rest of my life with.
“Behave.” I point to my mother. Willow’s magnetic effect always leaves me reluctant to walk out of the room. It’s such a potent force, I hate to be separated from her. I kiss her once more, and allow my lips to linger on her sweet skin, before heading to the car. “Be right back.”
What the fuck’s happened to me? I feel empty without her and she’s only a few feet away. All those months of ignoring my feelings were wasted. What a schmuck!
With my mother content and Dad still meandering the neighborhood with his stash of soap and toothpaste, I decide to drive over to my place with Willow. On the ride there we encounter even more of what we witnessed when we arrived from the
airport. It’s still a shock to see everything at a standstill. Schools are closed, businesses shut down, and streets empty save for abandoned cars and people cleaning up debris. In the middle of such tragedy you’d think people would be scattered all over, panicked. Instead, my old stomping grounds are a veritable ghost town. It’s fucking creepy.
“Where the hell is everyone?”
“What do you mean?” Willow asks as she absently rubs my arm.
“It’s like everyone’s jumped ship. It’s eerie.”
“What did you expect, babe? I’m sure no matter how well everyone prepared for this, they weren’t expecting what actually went down.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I still want to get a better idea of what we can do to help. Once we’re done at my place, we should stop by the high school. Then I can get the old warehouse up and running if need be. I have demolition tools and tons of supplies sitting around collecting dust. You game?”
“I told you, I’m here to help in any way I can. No questions asked. Now, show me this bachelor castle you built for yourself. I’m excited to see it.”
I don’t know if my nerves are shot or I’m imagining things, but even through her warm smiles and kind offerings, Willow seems withdrawn. “You okay? I’m sorry you got thrown into all this.”
She lifted her hand to her mouth to cover a yawn. “I’m fine. Just tired. Stop worrying about me.”
I lean over the center console to squeeze her thigh. “Too tired for me to throw you around my bedroom? I’m not expecting there to be too much to take care of . . . so let me take care of you, instead.” I trace my fingers up her leg, to her stomach, then creep them into the waistline of her jeans.
“Would you keep your eyes on the road?” She giggles.
“Only if you say yes.” I want to hear her say that word to so many things, it’s crazy.
“Will you settle for a maybe?”
“You’re denying me your sweet lovin’?”
“I’m grimy and covered in airport funk. After a good nap and a long shower I might feel a little more up to the challenge, but right now, even though I hate to disappoint you, I think we better stick to the plan. I’d feel guilty—like all these people lost homes and loved ones and we’re being selfish and screwing around when we could be helping in other ways.”
I wiggle my brows. “You will be helping. Me.” She should never feel guilty for making love to me.
What am I doing? Why can’t I get it together? I’m trying, but ever since that damn dream I’ve put on this fake, perfect girlfriend act. I say all the right things, make all the proper moves, but my thoughts are so scattered everything feels like an out of body experience.
Last night, had Noah asked me to make love to him on the damn sidewalk I would have. But now? Now it’s as though I’m slowly stepping away. Doing what I know I have to do to start the process of ending this relationship. I can be here for the moral support. I can play along until I have to fly home. But once I’m on that plane back to San Diego—that’s it. No more Noah. He won’t know it, but that goodbye at the airport will be the goodbye.
I want to cry just thinking about it, but what use would that be? There’s no use crying over spilt milk, right? Although this milk hasn’t quite made a slopping mess just yet. But it will, so I’m preventing it from happening by never pouring it into the damn glass to begin with.
Enough with the milk, Willow. You know this isn’t about that. It’s about you. What you think you know.
I don’t need a master’s degree or a sixth sense to know for certain what Noah expects from a wife. He expects what I can’t give to him. His mother even gushed about future grandbabies. Of course she couldn’t have known my situation, but it didn’t hurt any less to hear her wistfulness and know I couldn’t be the one to grant her lifelong wish.
This is my fate. Not Noah’s. If I ever find the strength to move on again it will have to be with a man who doesn’t want children of his own. Or maybe I’ll go totally apeshit and start some Eat Pray Love mission of my own.
As soon as these next few days are over, that is.
“We’re here!” Noah sings. His voice causes me to jump out of my skin, and jolts me from pessimistic thought of the day number eighty-five.
Words fail me when he pulls up to the curb and I set my sights on the gorgeous house before me. It’s the home of my dreams, what I always envisioned for myself when I was a teenager, in love with Kurt.
There’s a sprawling manicured lawn that seems built to be trampled on by tiny running feet and little tricycle tires. A picket fence encloses a sea of colorful shrubs and a green thumb’s garden fantasy. Even in light of the storm that just blew through here, the outside of this house is simply breathtaking. And that’s just the landscaping. Forget about the actual house. It’s massive, yet charming and just—perfect.
“Holy shit, Noah! Why the hell did you leave?” He’s told me a million times over that he needed to leave because he felt a calling of sorts. It was the right gig at the right time, and it brought him to me. That all sounded wonderful at the time. Now it just makes me want to weep. Weeping Willow. My mother named me perfectly. God certainly works in mysterious ways—and not all of those mysteries are the heavenly kind.
“Come on.” He grabs my hand with a boyish excitement that almost washes away my unsettling angst. “Let’s go around back and check that out first. Then I’ll take you inside and show you around.”
My gloomy outlook turns cheerful at the energetic vibe sparking from Noah. It’s impossible to fight, and I’m so thankful for the sudden emotional persuasion. It’s one of those rare times when I allow my heart to do the thinking for a change. I figure I might as well make the best of the last few days I have with him. I deserve a little bit of sunshine after the rain, right?
Holding on to his hand for dear life as he leads me to the backyard, I’m aware of how cruel life can be. I hate thinking this way, so I vow to myself that from here on out, during this trip, I’ll cut the woe-is-me shit and live in the moment.
“I still find it hard to believe you left this all behind for a volunteer position. Tell me again what the hell was going through your thick skull?” I am so impressed with the craftsmanship of his kitchen, I can’t stop snapping pictures with my phone.
“Why do you keep taking photos? You’re so weird, you know that?” He pulls me close to nuzzle his nose in my neck, and causes shivers to prickle my skin.
“Because when we pulled up to this house it was like déj à vu. I’ve seen this before. In my dreams. It’s exactly what I always wanted for—myself.” It’s not a lie. It’s an omission of truth. Totally different.
“But your house is beautiful. I thought you were happy there. Isn’t it what you asked the builders to design for you?”
It was. Back then. With Kurt and my former happily ever after as part of the floorplan.
But this is the real thing. Detail for detail. How could he have known? It’s as though he found a portal into my subconscious and replicated each piece to perfection. “I can’t explain it, Noah. It’s just—I don’t know, but I love it.” It’s a bittersweet sentiment.
“Good, then you’ll want to come back.” He backs away, rounds the granite covered island, and futzes around in the empty fridge. With his back to me, he scratches his head and asks, “Can I say something crazy?”
Yesterday, I wouldn’t have hesitated a morsel. Today, I’m scared shitless of what he’s about to say. Fortunately, my mouth does the speaking before my brain can do the thinking. “Sure! Get all crazy on me.”
Spinning around with more of that excitement that oozes off of him and gets everyone in its wake high from the fumes, he leans over the island and gazes into my eyes. “I’ve been imagining what it would be like to spend half my time here and half my time in San Diego. Once Blaze is back on his feet, I want to offer him more of the company. I’ve stayed away from here for too long, and being back . . . with you . . . makes me see things in a different light. I f
led for good reason, but also out of fear. I’m no longer afraid of those things because I have you.” He looks down at his hands, where his thumbs twiddle in nervous circles. “After this trip—once we get back—I want you to move in with me. It doesn’t have to be at my place or your place, it can be something completely new—a place of our own. I can build you your dream home there and then whenever we come back here, we’ll have this. All to ourselves.”
His speech nearly gets me to cave. It almost makes me abandon my plan to put a stop to this going any further. But the last part of what he said reverberates over and over in my ears like a droning gong. All to ourselves. As in, just the two of us. No one else to fill all these empty rooms. To satisfy the missing piece of the puzzle that every couple longs for.
“Noah.” I bring myself to speak past the lump in my throat. I’ve avoided this conversation since we started dating, even after we told each other we were in love, but after hearing how seriously he views our relationship, I have to get it all out there. “Don’t you want children?” The word tastes bitter on my tongue. Not only does it hurt to ask, but it pricks my heart in a way that makes it want to stop beating.
“I do. I mean, I did,” he stammers. He’s clearly retracing his steps and thinking everything over as quickly as he can. “Why do we need to talk about this now?”
“Because I can’t move in with you, Noah. Because I know you want children and I can’t be the reason you never have them.” I don’t want to have this conversation now. I’d rather we never have it, but I can’t pretend any longer. “Maybe I should just book the next flight home. I don’t think I should be here.”
He runs over to me, grips my arms and forces me to look into his pain-stricken eyes. “Don’t talk like that! Never again. You’re not leaving here yet. Not until you’re supposed to go home. And even then, I might just switch around your flight so I can keep you right here where you belong. With me.” He crashes his lips to mine, this kiss commanding and forceful. It’s his way of claiming me and showing me who’s boss. But he’s not in charge. Neither of us are. There’s only one God and He calls the shots. He tells us how it’s gonna be and there’s no use in denying it.
After the Storm Page 17