Safe in Noah's Arms

by Mary Sullivan

  Crap.

  “I’d like to talk to her anyway.”

  His mom looked at him as though he was crazy and then shrugged. “It’s your funeral. She’s in the back putting together the recycling.”

  When Noah entered the back room, Monica didn’t stop what she was doing even though he had the sense she knew he was there. With his size, and being a redhead to boot, he wasn’t exactly invisible. Even so, she ignored him and kept ripping apart cardboard boxes. Shredding them, really, with her bare hands. Her biceps actually flexed. The woman was strong.

  No trace of the ice princess here today. A volcano burned inside of Monica, and it was Noah who’d set her lava flowing.

  The room was small and he towered over her, but today Monica had all the power. Heat radiated from her in fragrant bergamot-scented waves.

  Big mistake coming here. When he made to step back out of the room, she ordered, “Stay where you are. Don’t you dare weasel out of this.”

  Weasel? Who, him? Yeah, him. Intensely uncomfortable, he wanted to be anywhere else, but Monica’s anger snared him, like a mongoose paralyzed by a cobra.

  He’d never seen her so wound up.

  “You made terrible assumptions about me this morning, Noah.”

  “Yes, I did. I sure did.” He shuffled his feet. “Er...what assumptions?”

  “That I was being lazy. That I hadn’t come to the farm because I was sleeping in.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I did think that.”

  “I was up and out at Kayla’s farm by eight. I helped her get ready for her interviews. I brought her into town and waited while she did both. I knew she would be nervous and thought she might like the support.”

  “I’m sure she did.”

  “Don’t patronize me.”

  He held his hands out in the most placating gesture he could manage. There were no right answers here for him today. This was one of those woman-mad-at-a-man moments when he wouldn’t be able to do anything right, other than eat humble pie, that is. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to patronize.”

  “I did a very good thing for Kayla and then I had to take sh—” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I had to take crap from you.”

  As mad as she was, she wouldn’t swear. Noah smiled then hid it when she glared at him.

  “You shouldn’t have had to take crap from me,” he agreed lickety-split so he could get out of here in one piece.

  He cleared his throat, trying to force himself to admit what was so hard for him, but he could do no less than tell her the truth when he’d given her such a hard time this morning. “What you did for Kayla was beyond awesome.” He was sincere. “You gave Kayla an amazing gift.”

  “Thanks.” Terse. Still angry, she accepted his appreciation grudgingly.

  “Can I ask you a favor?”

  “What?” Not giving an inch.

  “Just tell me when you can’t come out to the farm, okay? So I can rearrange what needs to be done, like heavy lifting, for when you can be there to help me? Okay?”

  With one quick nod, she stepped outside into the laneway with a pile of cardboard, effectively dismissing him.

  Ice? The woman was blazing hot. It was a wonder the gallery hadn’t ignited and burned to the ground.

  Scorched, Noah left the store fully chastened, but also...strangely turned on.

  * * *

  ON SUNDAY MORNING, they rushed through their chores, because Noah was taking six children from town fishing.

  When she heard that he needed her to help with the task, Monica decided to forgive Noah for his rudeness yesterday. Besides, she’d always been terrible at holding a grudge, a fact Billy had used to get away with murder sometimes. Remembering how cheeky and sure of her forgiveness he always was, she smiled.

  “What’s that smile for?” Noah stood beside her in the kitchen, filling an ancient, hard-sided cooler with drinks. He smelled earthy and maybe a little like mothballs. Making a scent for a guy like Noah would be a challenge. It would have to be spicy to cover that mothball scent.

  If she did design a scent just for him, would he wear it? Good question. And why was she even considering what would suit him? Another good question, one for which she didn’t have an answer.

  She liked his heat beside her, though. The morning had been chilly.

  Monica handed him the sandwiches she’d made so far and he put them on top of the drinks.

  She stood at the counter making peanut butter sandwiches, wrapping them in waxed paper and then snapping elastic bands around them. Noah wouldn’t let Monica use plastic wrap. Apparently, he didn’t even own any.

  Her smile broadened—thinking about Billy in the good times brightened her mood. “I was smiling because I was remembering how Billy knew I forgave easily and, boy, did he use it to his advantage.”

  “I gotta admit, after yesterday I was sure you were gonna still be a volcano ready to blow this morning.”

  “No. I heat up quickly and I’m slow to cool down, but I don’t hold grudges.”

  “Good, ’cause today would have been brutal if you were still mad.”

  “I’m glad you asked me to help with the children. I like the whole idea. Do you do this often? Take kids out fishing?”

  “As often as I can, when I can afford the time. I like to get them away from tablets and computer screens and out into nature.”

  “Are these kids needy? Is there a reason why their parents can’t do this?”

  When Noah bristled, she said, “Relax, Noah. You always assume I’m being judgmental, but I’m not. I really want to know why you do this.”

  His shoulders, which had seemed to ratchet up to his ears, relaxed. “For some, both of their parents work. Some are from single-parent families. Some are just kids who want to come for the fun of it. I do this for whoever has an interest. For any kid at any economic level, at any age. I want to nurture an appreciation of the outdoors in as many of our youth as possible. Fishing is a fun way to do that.”

  “What do you fish for?”

  “Brook trout. Then we bring our catch back to the house and cook it for an early dinner.”

  Trout. One of her favorites. “What if you don’t catch enough to eat?”

  He fell back against the ancient refrigerator with his hand against his heart, mock offended. Monica laughed. The man could be funny when he wasn’t being intense.

  “You wound my ego and my skill.” He grasped one of the handles of the cooler and she took the other. “We’ll catch enough. Come on. Let’s go.”

  Just as they’d finished loading the truck with the cooler and fishing supplies, a van turned into the driveway. Four young boys and two girls got out. Monica guessed their ages at maybe nine through eleven.

  Three of them got into the pickup, and the other three joined Monica in her car. Monica followed Noah but winced when he turned onto Gabe Jordan’s land.

  She’d managed to avoid Gabe since his marriage, but apparently not today.

  Her heart sank.

  Pulling into the huge yard of the pretty house Gabe and his new wife, Callie, had built over the past year, Monica parked beside Noah’s truck.

  Gabe stepped out of the house onto the porch, as handsome as ever. He had been Billy’s best friend, and had been in Afghanistan with him when her husband had been killed by an IED. Monica knew full well how devastated Gabe had been by Billy’s death.

  In that awful first year, she had leaned on him and he’d helped her grieve, so well in fact she’d thought there was something developing between them.

  Too late, Monica had learned that, while Gabe might have felt affection for her, he’d never loved her. In the end, he’d married someone else. At least, she hoped there’d been affection. What if it had been only pity? Afraid that it had been exactly that, she’d avoi
ded him since.

  When he saw her, Gabe broke into a broad grin. “Monica! How are you?”

  He jumped from the porch, approached with long, exuberant strides, still with that huge smile, and wrapped her in an all-encompassing hug that blocked out everything around them. Gabe, you gem. His arms locked around her waist, lifting her feet off the ground. He spun her around.

  Joy filled her. It hadn’t been pity and she hadn’t lost a dear friend. For the past year, she’d missed him, had missed his big, tender hugs.

  While she’d been avoiding him, he had given her the room she needed to get used to him being married. In a flash, she understood that now.

  During the year of her self-imposed Gabe-avoidance, she had come to understand that, while they’d had a lot of affection for each other, it hadn’t been a passionate love, on either side.

  Gabe had been wise to find himself a woman he could love.

  He set her on her feet, his hands on her arms warm. She smiled. His admiration felt good.

  “How have you been?” he asked, brow furrowed. “Are you good?”

  She understood that he was really asking, “Are you over Billy’s death?”

  “I’m getting there, Gabe.” She smiled to reassure him and he squeezed her hands.

  Not only had she been living in silence for too long, but she’d also been going along without touch. She felt color fill her, rise into her flushed face. She needed more of this.

  No wonder she’d gone drinking on that Friday night. Her life was barren. She needed to find something. Gabe had gotten past his grief and now thrived. Surely she could, too.

  At least here this morning, in his hug, she found a consolation...true warm-hearted kindness and friendship.

  “You’re fishing with us today?” he asked. “I had no idea you knew how.”

  “I don’t. I’m game, though.”

  Gabe turned to Noah, who, Monica noticed, didn’t look happy. “Hey, man, what happened to your arm?”

  Monica froze. He hadn’t heard? She thought the whole town, no the whole world, knew, judging by the comments she’d heard everywhere she went.

  She might be put off by Noah’s attitude, but the townspeople sure liked him and didn’t want to see him hurt.

  “Sorry I’ve been out of touch.” Gabe smiled. “I’ve been preoccupied with Callie’s pregnancy. We’ve had a couple of false alarms. She’s close.”

  Monica watched Noah. He raised one red eyebrow her way, as if asking, “Should I tell him or should you?”

  Time to own up. The shame that had been burning in her tummy the first morning she’d gone to Noah’s farm returned, setting off fire alarms in her stomach.

  “I did it.”

  Gabe stared down at her, uncomprehending. “Did it? Did what?”

  She pointed to Noah’s cast. “That.”

  “How on earth could you have broken Noah’s arm?”

  She hated to tell him. Gabe, with his overdeveloped sense of right and wrong, would never understand falling so low, feeling so alone, that he would go out and drink...and then get into his car.

  She steeled herself and blurted, “I drove home from the bar after too many drinks and I hit him.” She might as well come completely clean. “Noah was on his bike. I ruined it. It was vintage.”

  Gabe’s head swiveled between the two of them like the balls in a Newton’s cradle. Noah probably wouldn’t believe she knew what one was. “You drove drunk? I don’t believe it.”

  “As my lawyer said, it only takes once to make a mistake of that magnitude and get caught.”

  “She hit me like a ton of bricks,” Noah said, his tone hard, as though Gabe asking about it had reminded him of his outrage.

  All of the lovely camaraderie she’d been feeling with Noah in the kitchen this morning evaporated like morning mist. He was still angry with her. Rightly so. He should be, and yet, when could they get past this?

  She didn’t get why Noah’s attitude toward her boomeranged so much.

  Gabe rubbed the back of his neck, as though having trouble wrapping his head around everything. Then he settled his heavy hand on her shoulder and her shame eased. Commiseration. Sympathy.

  Thank you, she mouthed.

  The front door of the house opened and Callie stepped outside, her cropped red hair and sassy smile a contrast to Monica’s own conservative demeanor.

  She approached—waddled really, because of her big pregnant belly. Monica envied her that belly. She would love to have children.

  Callie stood beside Noah, subtly aligning herself with him. “I heard about the accident, Noah. Can I autograph that thing?”

  “You knew about this and didn’t tell me?” Gabe asked.

  “I only just heard yesterday. I was so tired last night I forgot to share.”

  “I don’t know if you can sign this type of cast.” Noah gestured with his broken wing. “It’s a newfangled material. Not like the old plaster casts.” He smiled at Callie.

  Monica didn’t like that smile. It was sweet and affectionate and unlike anything he shared with her. Not that she cared who Noah smiled at, or how.

  Anyway, what really mattered in this moment was that Gabe’s show of affection toward her had changed Monica’s emotions, morphed them into something more positive than envy. Her regret that Gabe couldn’t love her and any jealousy she’d felt toward Callie eased. She was better than this. It was time to accept things as they were. Gabe deserved love.

  “Congratulations on your imminent birth, Callie,” she said. “I hope all goes well in delivery.”

  She found she meant it and added a smile.

  Caught off guard, Callie hesitated and then said, “Thank you.” Perhaps sensing the sincerity of Monica’s sentiment, she returned the smile.

  The kids hovered in the background, not quite understanding the complex emotions, good and bad, swirling among the adults.

  Noah took care of that, his natural exuberance reasserting itself once he’d collected all of the fishing equipment from the truck.

  Callie went back into the house. She was taking it easy so close to her delivery date. Monica pulled the cooler from the back of the truck, but Gabe was right beside her in an instant to grab it.

  “I can do it,” she protested.

  “I don’t doubt it, but it’s a fair hike to the river. You look good, Monica. Strong. I see you’ve been keeping up the workouts I taught you.”

  “Religiously. They’ve helped a lot, Gabe. They were a lifesaver.”

  “Good.” She followed when he stepped into the woods. “What’s with the drinking and driving?”

  “It was only one time, last Friday night.” She explained about being lonely.

  “You need to find something to do with your life, Monica.”

  “You used to tell me that all the time. I didn’t get it then. I do now. I just haven’t found what that might be.”

  “No ideas?”

  A flare of excitement arose in her. “Actually, I would love to have my own business. I watched you with your dogsledding. You get so much, I don’t know, juice out of running it and giving children joy.”

  Gabe grinned. “Juice is a good word for it. Earning a living doing something you love is rewarding, but being your own boss is even better. Couple that with teaching kids from the city about nature and how to take care of animals is the best feeling on earth.”

  “Yeah, I can see that. I’ve noticed how much pride Olivia has in her gallery, too. I love working there, but I really want something of my own. I just don’t know what.” Her frustration bled through. “I mean, look at the things I love. Fashion is already a crowded industry. What could I possibly do in Accord that would attract a clientele anyway?”

  Gabe looked thoughtful, but had no answers.

 
“Both of Main Street’s lingerie and clothing shops are doing well,” she continued. “Another store like that would cut that market in half. Even with our healthy summer tourist trade, it wouldn’t work.”

  “I’m happy to see you trying to come up with ideas. Even if you haven’t figured out what exactly it is you want to do, you have the desire. It’s only a matter of time before you do.”

  His faith warmed her.

  “So what are you doing here today with Noah? How did this come about?”

  She reached forward and held a branch out of their way while Gabe passed, his hands full with the heavy cooler. She explained about the community service and how the experience had been going so far.

  “Things will ease with Noah. He’s just frustrated that he’s hindered when he needs to get his work done.”

  “I understand his hostility, but it’s just hard to live with him constantly glaring at me.” That wasn’t true, though. There’d been those compelling moments when they’d talked about fund-raising, when she’d felt it could be a shared passion. His moods turned on a dime, though. She didn’t understand him.

  “Look,” she said as they approached the bank of the river where Noah and the kids waited. “He’s glaring again.”

  After a protracted incisive stare at his friend, Gabe laughed. “Don’t worry, Monica. It’ll pass. My buddy’s just got stuff to work through right now.”

  Monica wasn’t sure what kind of stuff Noah had to work through, but she wished he’d hurry up and deal with it, thank you very much. Because it was definitely no laughing matter.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  NOAH GOT EVERYONE set up with rods and lures then began teaching the kids about everything that popped into his head. Or so it seemed to Monica.

  The man was an encyclopedia of the outdoors. Gabe wasn’t so bad, either. Between the two of them, they taught the children a lot. Monica was impressed.

  She watched Noah with the kids. Despite her pique and her doubts about where she stood with him, she liked how he treated the children—like gold.

  The kids really liked him. She knew the townspeople respected him, too. Why was it only her to whom Noah offered so little of the best of himself? He’d always gone out of his way to ignore her, long before the accident.