by Trudy Stiles
“You’re gonna have to be more specific, man. I’m driving, and I have no idea what ‘that’ is.”
“The light catcher.”
“Oh, that. Tammy insists I take it with me everywhere. She says it’s good luck.”
It’s a glass shamrock, filled with all shades of green sea glass.
“How do you even know what a light catcher is?” Garrett asks, stretching his legs out in the booth. He has a smug look on his face, and he knows he just stumbled across a gem.
“My mother collects them.” I admit and hesitate before I continue. A smirk spreads on Garrett’s face. “And they remind me of someone I used to know.”
I brace myself for Garrett’s onslaught.
“Oh?” he asks, genuinely curious. “Who?”
I tip back the beer bottle, taking a long swig. And then another.
“Just someone I was close to when I was younger. Bad stuff happened to her, and in the end, I couldn’t save her.” She didn’t want to be saved. It’s been a long time since I thought about Noelle. My chest tightens as I think about the last few days she and I spent together. Some of the most amazing and most devastating times of my life.
“I’m sorry, dude,” Garrett replies. “What was her name?”
“Noelle.”
“Why haven’t you ever told us about her?”
“There hasn’t been a reason to.”
“We’ve got seven hours until we reach Munich and I’ve had a ton of caffeine today, so I’m all ears.”
I close my eyes briefly, her silhouette in the moonlight is the only thing I see. She was beautiful, but doomed.
“I wish I could go back in time, man. Do you ever feel that way?” I deflect Garrett’s line of questioning back to him. I can’t bring myself to tell him about Noelle, some of the wounds still feel too fresh in my mind, even though it’s been almost twelve years.
Garrett nods without answering. “Who is she to you?”
I’m afraid to admit it out loud. Afraid of the feelings that are going to come swarming back, tearing out my heart once again.
I exhale deeply as the words slowly escape my lips. Words I can never take back.
“She was the first girl I ever loved.”
Noelle
Past
Age 12
I GRAB MY BASEBALL hat and jog toward the back door when I hear my father’s voice, “Noelle?”
“Yeah, Dad?” I call back, my hand on the doorknob. Heath is outside waiting; I saw him through my window waving to me from the field we built together. He’s my best friend. My only friend.
“Aren’t you going to say goodbye? I’m leaving.” My heart sinks in my chest, and I exhale harshly. I absolutely hate it when he leaves.
“Coming!” I call out, rushing to meet him in the large library near the foyer.
He’s waiting with his arms outstretched and I run into them. He sweeps me off the floor, nuzzling his nose into my hair. “I’m going to miss you, Buddy,” he says, calling me the nickname he gave to me when I was a little girl.
“You, too, Dad.” I hug him tightly as he eases me onto the floor in front of him.
“You behave yourself with Tonya, okay? I don’t want to hear that you gave her any problems.”
He’s always worried about how I treat Tonya. She’s nothing but mean to me, and I dread being alone with her when my father’s not around. He travels quite a bit, so that’s a lot. I didn’t tell him about the last time he left, when she slapped me across the face for questioning her when I found her in my father’s office, rifling through the drawers of his desk.
“I’ll behave,” I huff.
“I’m serious.” His eyes scrunch together, causing that crease to grow between his eyebrows. It’s become a permanent fixture on his forehead, making him seem much older than he really is.
“I promise, Dad.”
He pulls me into a huge hug and kisses the top of my head. “I’ll see you in ten days.”
“Why so long?” I whine. He’s never gone for more than a week at a time. Ten days seems like an eternity.
“I’m visiting half a dozen European countries during this trip, trying to secure financing for the next year. You know that I need to have face-time with my investors to keep our relationships solid.” He winks and messes up my hair.
“But that’s a long time, Dad.”
“I know. I know. I promise I’ll call every few days to check in.”
“Okay,” I pout, dreading his absence. When he’s here, Tonya leaves me alone. But when he’s gone, I walk on eggshells. I don’t ever want to feel the cold slap of her hand on my face again.
“I’ll bring you back something, I promise.”
“You don’t have to.”
He walks around to his desk, opening the top drawer. “Here.” He reaches his hand out toward me, and I see a wad of money. “Take this in case you need anything.”
I open my hand and see a couple hundred-dollar bills. “What do I need this for?” I ask. He’s never given me money when he’s left before. Tonya’s always bought me anything I needed.
“It’s fun money. Just in case you want to go shopping or need anything at all.”
I shove the bills into the pocket of my shorts. “I doubt I’ll need it, though.” It’s the middle of the summer, and I’ve hardly left the house since the last day of school. I can’t imagine what I’d need to buy.
“Don’t ask Tonya for anything. If you need to shop, just call my driver and he’ll take you to the mall. Got it?” His voice is stern, and I wonder why things have suddenly changed. As much of a jerk Tonya has been to me, she always enjoys shopping and never hesitates spending my father’s money on herself or me.
“Got it.”
He kisses me again quickly and grabs his briefcase, “Gotta run, Buddy.”
“Bye.” I raise my hand as I watch him leave the office and out the front door. His car backs out of the driveway, and the house is eerily silent. Tonya went out a few hours ago, and I don’t expect her home for a while. I shrug my shoulders and jog toward the back door.
Heath is taking warm-up swings in his backyard, and he looks up at me with a huge smile. “What took you so long?” He drops the bat and kicks the Wiffle balls toward the pitcher’s mound.
“My dad needed to say goodbye. He just left for Europe. Again.” I pick up the bat and the grip feels warm from Heath’s hands.
“Oh. Where’s Tonya?” He looks toward the house, worried that our playtime is going to be cut short.
“Who knows. Out somewhere,” I shrug.
“You’re home alone?” he asks, concern on his face.
“Yeah, so?”
“My parents would never leave me alone. You’re lucky. You can do anything you want.”
“Not really,” I respond, swinging the bat to stretch out my arms and shoulders.
“Simmer down, slugger,” he smirks. “No need to take my head off! You always do that, remember what I told you about swinging that close to anyone.”
“Sorry.” I smile, and he backs up toward the mound.
“Are we picking up where we left off last night?” Our game went into extra innings; we were tied at twelve runs each.
“Why don’t we just call it a tie and start over?” I suggest.
He takes a small notepad from the pocket in his cargo shorts and digs around for a tiny pencil that he got from the miniature golf course we played at last week. I watch as he writes down the score from the game.
“How many is it?” I ask, wondering what our records are.
“The same as yesterday, since the last game ended in a tie.”
“Oh,” I say.
“I lead our series still. I’m up by six games. You need to have a long stretch of wins to catch me.” His grin widens as he shoves the notepad and pencil back into his pocket.
“Whatever.” I roll my eyes, only causing him to smile bigger.
“Are you ready?” he asks, windmilling his pitching arm and causing me to chuckle. He takes Wiff
le ball very seriously.
I swing the bat a few more times, the whoosh of it hanging in the air. “I’m ready. Give me what you got.” I get into my batting stance and lift my chin.
He brings his knee into the air and covers the ball with his free hand, trying to hide the pitch he’s about to throw. But I know what’s coming and I back away from the plate a little bit. The ball leaves his hand with the familiar swish and the ball practically flutters in the air in front of me, confusing me. It’s coming toward me slower than usual but it’s dancing? I swing hard, missing by a mile, and his laughter fills the air.
“What the hell was that?” My cheeks burn, flushing from embarrassment and anger. I’ve never seen a pitch like that.
“You like it? I perfected my knuckleball,” he declares. “And do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” His smile disappears when he realizes what he just said.
We don’t talk about my mother very much, but he knows she died when I was an infant. He also knows that I don’t consider Tonya my mother.
“Sorry–” he apologizes before I can react. “I didn’t mean–”
I kick home plate and shrug my shoulders. “No big deal.” But it is a big deal. Huge. I hate not having a real mother. I hate that my father is never here. I hate not having a family. Tears sting my eyes, and I close them, trying to calm down.
“Noelle?” Heath walks toward me, and my eyes pop open.
“Just pitch the ball, please?” I inhale deeply through my nose, sniffling a little. Get a grip.
He backs up and pulls his hand into his chest, once again hiding the ball. If he throws that wonky pitch again, I’ll be ready for it this time. I’m surprised when the ball leaves his hand and it is thrown in the perfect spot. I swing and it flies over his head, into home run territory. A smile spreads across his lips as he concedes that he just gave me a gift–I’ve never seen him pitch that slowly and easily to me before. I drop the bat at my feet and run ceremoniously around the bases, watching him turn on the pitcher’s mound to follow my strides.
“Good hit, slugger.”
“You gave that one to me–and you know it.” My accusation hangs in the air between us, and he shakes his head.
“That was all you. But you won’t ever see a pitch like that again.” His grin widens, and he kicks the ground in front of him.
“Heath!” his mother calls from their large deck. “Time for lunch. Noelle, join us?” Mrs. Strickland is one of the nicest women I’ve ever met. Her love for her son is so obvious, and he doesn’t seem embarrassed by it at all.
“Sure! I was just about to wipe the field with your son,” I joke as he and I jog toward the house.
He sprints ahead, reminding me that I could never beat him in a foot race, but stops at the bottom of the stairs to let me go first. “Such a gentleman,” I say, and he tips his hat.
“Dorks before dudes,” he smirks, then ducks before I can take a swing at him.
“Heath,” his mother scolds. “apologize to Noelle.”
“She knows I’m only joking.”
I smile and nod. “It’s fine, Mrs. Strickland. He knows who the real dork is here, and it’s not me.”
He ignores my comment as we walk into their kitchen. “What’s for lunch, Mom?”
“Turkey sandwiches. Plus, I have some fresh fruit and chips. Help yourselves.” She gestures toward the table, and the lunch spread is impressive. We both fill our plates with as much food as we can fit and slide into the benches in the sizable nook off the kitchen. Large windows surround us and it feels like we’re in a greenhouse. His mother has plants hanging in the windows alongside beautiful light catchers. I almost expect to see a butterfly perched on the windowsill.
“I love these light catchers, Mrs. Strickland. Where did you get them?”
“Palmer finds them in the most unique places. This one is from a little shop down the shore.” She points to the large seashell shaped light catcher that looks like it’s pieced together with different color sea glass.
“It’s beautiful.”
They sway in the windows, a kaleidoscope of colors reflecting off the glass.
Heath is chomping on handfuls of potato chips, trying to ignore the conversation I’m having with his mother.
“Don’t you think they’re beautiful?” I ask him, overly enthusiastic.
“Boring,” he says, pretending to be disinterested.
“I saw you looking at the dolphin-shaped one.”
“Heath gave that to me for my birthday two years ago,” his mother interrupts. “He even named it. That’s Dusty the Dolphin.”
I almost spit out my mouthful of food as Heath’s ears turn bright red, his embarrassment spreading to his cheeks.
“Dusty the Dolphin! I love it!” I exclaim as he closes his eyes.
“You’re lucky you’re a girl,” he mutters.
“Or what?”
“Heath,” his mother says sternly.
“Nothing.” He goes back to eating his sandwich, taking the biggest bite I’ve ever seen.
Our eyes lock onto each other, and I feel bad for embarrassing him. He obviously shared a tender moment with his mother over Dusty the Dolphin and he’s afraid to admit it. It’s so sweet.
We eat the rest of our lunch in silence as his mother straightens up the kitchen. “The McCarthys are coming for dinner tonight.” His shoulders fall and he drops his head, shaking it slowly.
“Again?” he moans.
“Yes. Your father and Mr. McCarthy are working on a case together, so he’s bringing the girls, and we’re going to have a movie night.” She turns to me. “You’re more than welcome to stay, Noelle.”
Heath’s attitude suddenly changes. “Please stay. Please. Don’t make me hang out with their twin daughters by myself.” I remember him talking about those girls. They’re in second or third grade, and they drive him crazy.
“I think I can stay,” I respond, knowing I really don’t have anyone I can officially ask.
“Thank God.” A long exhale escapes Heath’s lips causing me to smile.
“Glad I could help.”
The doorbell rings, chimes reverberating throughout their huge two-story foyer. Mrs. Strickland walks through the house to answer it as Heath looks back at me. “Seriously, you’re a life-saver. I don’t think I could sit through a movie with those two kids. It’s like I’m their babysitter or something.”
“It’ll be fun!” I proclaim. I’m secretly happy to spend some time with other people since I don’t get out much at all, other than to play ball and go on hikes with Heath.
Voices get closer to the kitchen, and I look up to see Tonya standing with Mrs. Strickland. The look on her face alarms me, her lips are tight, and she looks angry.
“Thank goodness you’re here!” There’s no worry on her face at all.
“I–I’m having lunch,” I stammer as she walks toward me, one arm outstretched.
“Come home with me this instant. I’ve been looking frantically for you! I almost had your father’s plane turned around because I thought you’d disappeared!”
I swallow hard, a huge lump in my throat. What is she talking about?
“I’ve been here all day. Playing out back.”
“I invited her in for lunch.” Mrs. Strickland tries to intervene, but Tonya yanks me from the chair. Heath grabs the table when my left hip smashes into the corner, pain shooting up my side.
“You can’t just vanish like that and not tell me where you are.” Her fingers burn into my skin as her nails dig in.
“I’m sorry,” I say as I’m dragged to the front door.
“Mrs. Durand, she didn’t do anything wrong!” Heath is following close behind, but his mother stops him. Our eyes meet, there’s confusion in his eyes.
It’s okay. I mouth the words to him, and he shakes his head. He looks as terrified as I feel. Besides the slap a while back, she’s never been this forceful with me.
Tonya tugs me out the door and across their vast front yard. Whe
n we reach our front door, her hand leaves my arm and grasps my ponytail, causing my scalp to throb. “You little bitch!” she hisses, slamming the side of my face into the door jamb. I see stars, pain radiating across my cheek. “How dare you talk back to me in front of our neighbors.” She pulls me through our foyer, my arms flailing as I try to release myself from her death grip.
“Tonya!” I scream as everything above my neck feels like it’s on fire. Tears spill down my cheeks.
“Stop calling me that name! I’m your mother, goddammit!” she screeches, finally releasing my hair. But now I’m hurling through the kitchen and fall, slamming my head into the side of the kitchen table.
“Stand up, you fucking klutz!” She’s on me again before I know it, I can barely get my knees pulled in to protect myself from her tennis shoe pounding into my side. Air is forced from my lungs as her foot seems to find the right place. Her arms start to swing, punches landing everywhere. I’m still trying to catch my breath when her massive diamond connects with my cheek. I cough and cry out, finally finding my breath.
“Please–” I wail, the taste of rusty blood fills my mouth.
Her blurry figure is above me and I see her fist in the air again, about to strike. Then the doorbell rings.
She immediately composes herself, smoothing out her blouse. “Get up and get to your room now. Show your face out here, and I’ll fucking kill you.” Her voice is calm, cold, and terrifying.
The bell rings again, and she kicks me on my shin. “Go!”
I scramble to my feet, pain ripping through my stomach. I shuffle to my bedroom down the long hall behind the den, slamming the door shut. As I fall onto my bed in the corner, a familiar voice fills my house.
“Mrs. Durand!” Heath calls out, his voice strained. “Noelle left her hat over at my house, so I thought I’d bring it by.”
“Thank you, dear.” The words leave her mouth so evenly. “I’ll make sure she gets it.”
“I’d like to give it to her myself, if that’s okay, ma’am.”
I moan in pain, rolling on my bed. Blood spreads on my white pillows. “Please go away,” my mind screams.
“She’s in her room. She’s been grounded, thanks to you and your antics. Don’t expect to see her for several days.”
