Megan would be able to understand that. She could not be sorry that a marriage would be saved. Interrupting her thoughts, Symon drew her attention by standing and speaking to Noah. “Let’s go outside and take a look.”
Megan knew what that meant. Symon had said, and Paul had agreed, that they would not only discuss renovation and building, but also try and see what was going on with this cousin of Michael’s. The three men left the kitchen to go out back.
“Mudd, SweetiePie,” Symon called. The dog and cat went outside with them.
Megan knew Noah had given a good impression so she wasn’t surprised when Lizzie said, “Quit pretending you’re interested in dirty cups. Come sit down and listen to our opinion. After all, you did ask us to check him out.”
Megan closed the dishwasher door and sat at the table.
Annabelle said, “I am favorably impressed, Megan.”
“Weren’t you also impressed with Michael?”
“I liked Michael. But, like you, I was concerned about whatever was troubling him, with his health or whatever.” She paused. “I don’t know if we should try and compare him with Michael. Noah is a different person.”
Megan scoffed. “How can I help it? Michael was here one day, gone the next. Noah looks like him. He lives in Michael’s house. He’s living the life that Michael should be living.” She lifted her hands helplessly. “He’s even talking about the changes in his house Michael mentioned. Along with the discussion about a B and B.”
“That’s not so odd,” Annabelle said. “You said he’s Michael’s cousin. Their family owns the company together. It would seem even stranger if Noah and Michael were entirely different.”
“More than that,” Lizzie said, and Megan was almost afraid of the honesty Lizzie often exhibited. “I’m sorry Michael is having problems. But you deserve more than a man who walks out on you without a word.”
“We hadn’t promised—”
Lizzie was shaking her head. “Doesn’t matter. You’d been dating for a long time. You were there for him when he was sick. Now that I’ve seen Noah, I think of Michael as someone with potential, and it’s as if Noah is the finished product.” Her face brightened. “Like the historic homes. Noah is a renovated one.”
After joining them in light laughter, not about the differences but at the way Lizzie had of expressing her opinions, Megan said, “You’re talking about outward appearance. Yes, Noah seems more mature, a couple years older, knows and likes the renovating business, so of course he sounds good.”
“Looks good, too.”
“Michael did, too.”
“Michael was cute as a bug’s ear,” Lizzie said, then scrunched her face. “Anybody ever seen a bug’s ear? Do bugs have ears? Anyway, he was adorable. But Noah is...is...like a younger version of that guy in the movie, what was it, Nights in Rodanthe?”
“Richard Gere,” Annabelle said. “Right. We watched that together.”
“Yeah,” Lizzie said. “Swoon.”
“Okay.” Megan called a stop to that with uplifted hands. “It’s settled, Lizzie. You can have him.”
“Yeah,” Lizzie said. “That’s what Annabelle said about Symon when he first came to town. We met, we talked, we became instant friends. But he wasn’t interested in me otherwise. He just wanted information about pirates. Even Annabelle’s throwaway, Wesley, didn’t want me and I didn’t want him. Besides, I see the thread that runs between people who are attracted to each other.”
“Thread?”
“Yeah. It’s kind of like a spiderweb, like the ones you see everywhere in the fall. They float past, wrap around everything. That’s what it looks like. And I see that with Noah and—”
“No way,” Megan protested. “I felt that invisible spiderweb when I first saw Michael. He enjoyed the attention of females for a while, but then he sought me out and we hit it off. Okay, Michael was adorable. Noah is more seriously handsome.”
“Oh, he has those laugh lines. And that hair. My goodness.”
“But I’m in no condition to think about any man—and certainly not one who resembles Michael.”
“One of these days you’ll see the difference,” Lizzie said. “And I see that spiderweb coming from him and trying to wrap you up.”
“You silly,” Megan said. “He feels sorry for me. He thinks I’m pitiful. Why would he want a girl Michael threw away?”
Lizzie smiled. “Because he’s smarter. And more serious. And mature. And—”
“Stop it, Lizzie. If he’s so great, you go for him.”
She shook her head. “Won’t work. I don’t have a clicky button.”
“Clicky button?”
“You know, like on computers and such. You just click on what you want. I think humans have invisible ones and mine has malfunctioned. If I even have one. I’ve dated every available man on those Christian dating services. Either they don’t click, or I don’t click.”
“Your day will come.”
Lizzie sneered. “Right. When I’m too old to care. My young life is being wasted. I’m a waitress in a pirate café. Big whoop.”
“Well,” Megan said reflectively, “at least you weren’t talking about maybe getting married to someone who up and left you.”
Lizzie reached over and patted Megan’s hand. “I know. I’m sorry. I just yakety yak too much. I should be feeling sorry for you. But we both can just tell the world we don’t care and wither and die as old maids.” She punctuated that with a nod of finality. “How’s that?”
“Perfect,” Megan said. “I’ll just draw caricatures for Annabelle’s books and cook breakfast for happily married people who stay in my home that I turn into a B and B.”
“Right. And maybe I’ll come over and cook pirate pancakes for them.”
“You cook pirate pancakes?”
“I think I just started. Those would sell. I could make a million bucks and buy me a...oops! Forget that. We don’t want a man now, do we?”
By that time Megan was laughing so hard she thought she probably could live happily ever after as long as Lizzie was around.
Chapter 7
“You had me worried for a moment,” Noah said after they walked out onto the back deck, descended the steps and stood in the yard.
Symon and Paul looked at him for an explanation.
Tearing his eyes away from the enticing creek that flowed farther down and the mesmerizing sound of water rushing along as if it had a mission, Noah gave a short laugh. “I wasn’t sure who you were referring to when you called to Mudd and SweetiePie when we left the house. Now I think I know.” He extended his hand toward the golden retriever and white ball of fluff walking down the path in the midst of the flora and foliage beneath the hickories and live oaks laden with Spanish moss.
Looking again at Symon and Paul he saw their smiles.
Symon explained. “Mudd was rescued from a hurricane disaster,” he said. “I named him Mudd because his coloring looks like the mud, or red clay I should say, that holds things together. He’s been an adhesive for me when I’ve needed it.”
Noah was nodding, thinking about his own times of need as Symon explained the cat. “SweetiePie belongs to Miss B. She was a comfort to her and Annabelle at a time of need, too.”
“I get that,” Noah said. “And I know you’re probably concerned about my showing up after Michael left.”
The two men looked as if that’s exactly what they had in mind.
“You see, I may not be as effective as a pet.”
Their pleasant looks seemed to know where he was heading.
“But I’m trying to be a help to Michael in his time of need. My adhesive, as you call it, is the Lord.”
Symon’s hand went up like a stop sign as Paul nodded. “I’ve come to that conclusion,” Symon said, “thanks to Miss
B and Annabelle.”
Noah was glad to hear that. “Maybe I didn’t go about things in the right way. But I’ve tried to explain to Megan about my spying on her. I have to keep Michael’s confidence. It’s not my place, anyway, to tell Megan what Michael should tell her. But,” he lifted his palms as if to say he was open to scrutiny, “I will tell you anything you want to know about me.”
“Don’t know about that. Not sure I want to reciprocate,” Symon said with a touch of humor in his voice. “However,” he added on a serious note, “we don’t want Megan hurt any more than she’s already been.”
Noah wondered if Symon was about to say his company could work on the cottage, but he didn’t want him bothering Megan. “Maybe I remind her too much of Michael?”
Symon glanced at Paul, who seemed to absorb every word as if he were a deep thinker with an opinion others would respect. As if Symon’s glance were an invitation, Paul spoke up. “I think that reminder might be a good thing,” he said. “She has to face the fact that her relationship with Michael appears to be over or at least at a standstill. If she begins the B and B renovation of her house, that’s moving on with her life.”
Symon nodded.
Noah thought of Megan staring at him, then her abrupt glancing away, then her beginning to clear the table. What had she been thinking? That he resembled Michael but wasn’t Michael? Noah recalled Michael saying he didn’t really belong there, with those people.
Right now, Noah knew the feeling.
If Michael had played his cards right, he would be here and not Noah.
Maybe that’s why he was so surprised when their conversation turned to one that seemed more friendly.
“Join us for our morning swims at the fitness center,” Symon said. “Paul and I go most mornings.”
“We were on the swim team.” Paul looked toward Symon. “He took us to the championships many times.”
“You did your part, too,” Symon said with an appreciative glance at Paul, then returned his gaze to Noah.
“I’m no champion swimmer,” Noah said. “But we might play underwater tackle football.”
They laughed and Symon said, “We don’t compete in the pool. Just get our exercise and enjoy the water and the fellowship.”
The word compete gave Noah a moment of pause. Just a word could stir the emotions. Like Megan had mentioned, a word could bring on the feeling of loss or grief when you weren’t expecting it.
Any other time, Noah would feel honored to be included with these two men. He wanted friends. He needed friends. But he had a strong feeling their purpose was to know him better, to be protectors for their friend Megan.
“What time?”
“Six a.m.” Paul said.
Noah pursed his lips but nodded.
“Afterward,” Symon added, “when we’re invited, which is most mornings, we go to Miss B’s for breakfast.”
“She cooks for you?”
“Not exactly. Willamina does that, but the women gather ’round and talk about what goes into what.” Symon shook his head, but a softness came into his eyes. “Annabelle insists on learning to cook, although we’ll rely on Willamina a lot after we’re married. Now,” he said, “about this backyard. Noah?”
It took a moment for Noah to realize he’d lost his concentration. Something in the creek had caught his attention. His glance went to Symon and Paul, then back to the creek. “Are the dog and cat in the creek?”
“They’re a team,” Symon explained. “Used to be enemies, but after Annabelle and I became friends, so did they. And I think they do it for the exercise. Mudd has a bad leg. The swimming is easier on him than walking, but he’s getting better.”
Noah forced his attention back to the men. “You were talking about the backyard.”
Symon nodded. “Let me get the women to come out.” He took a step along the path then stopped. A small chuckle escaped his throat and he motioned.
Lizzie opened the screen door and the three women came out. This confirmed to Noah that they’d prearranged for Symon and Paul to talk with him without the women being present. Yes, he’d better mind his p’s and q’s.
Just as the women joined them in the yard, the dog and cat jumped out of the creek and began to shake. Noah gasped. They all followed his gaze and laughed. The cat was particularly weird looking. Its hair stuck out from its face like something wild. He’d never seen a cat with big blue eyes whose fur stuck out like splinters.
“Quite a sight,” Noah said.
Annabelle laughed. “SweetiePie must be posing for Megan. She’s making cat sketches for my book.”
“You write books, too?”
“Not really. Just a story for children about a cat’s bad hair day.”
Noah was impressed that this beautiful woman seemed to have a modest spirit. He suspected she was beautiful inside, too.
Symon put his arms around Annabelle’s shoulders, and Noah felt the emotion. Just like a word could conjure up a bad feeling, a look into each other’s eyes by two people in love could arouse a yearning for something like that of your own. Something that could be strong and permanent. He had to look away.
Symon said, “I’ve told her a short book for children is just as important as a thick thriller-killer novel.”
“Not as many words,” she said. “And mine is based on a true story.”
Symon moved away, scowling. “You think a killer is more important than our own true story?”
“Nothing is more important than that.” Annabelle moved to him and kissed his lips.
A gagging sound made Noah look at Lizzie, who had stuck her finger in her open mouth. “Would you two lovebirds like for us to leave, or do you want to talk business?”
Annabelle and Symon both raised their eyebrows. Then Symon lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. “I prefer the former, but since Noah came all the way out here, maybe we’d better talk business.”
Noah listened carefully as Symon and Annabelle talked about enlarging the patio and adding a guest room and an enclosed, mainly glass porch with outside access to the patio.
Annabelle pointed to the spacious backyard at Miss B’s house. “We can always use Aunt B’s yard for any big gatherings.”
“Yes,” Symon said. “She’s our family and included in most things. But Annabelle and I want our own private place for the two of us. And there will be times when I’ll entertain my publisher and a few people in my profession for business purposes.”
Noah nodded. “Of course. I can get blueprints and plans made up.”
Symon added, “We’ve already talked to Megan about sketching out how it would look.”
Noah wondered if he meant the two of them should work together. Probably not.
Noah would have all the statistics. His job would be the building of the enclosed porch and guest room. His company would have input on design and how everything would look in cooperation with the patio. Their company could hire any designers to make sure everything went together.
“You know I’m not a professional,” Megan said, bringing Noah’s attention from his thoughts and to her. “I’m sure they have designers who know where to place every item.”
“Right,” Symon said. “But your drawings will have the flesh on their skeletal depictions. And you bring to it that personal touch. Noah and his company don’t know why the design has to include our being able to view a particular part of the creek.”
While the others seemed to enjoy a moment of smiles and nods, Annabelle moved to him and put her arm around his waist.
“Oh, no,” Lizzie moaned. “Here we go again.” She leaned toward Noah and said conspiratorially, “Their private joke.”
“Oh,” Annabelle said, moving away from Symon. “Willamina’s waving. That means ‘come to lunch.’”
Noah looked
up to the big antebellum mansion and the dark-skinned woman out on the patio motioning to them. “You know I don’t like to be kept waiting,” she called. “Now, come on up here. All of you.”
Noah stuck out his hand toward Symon. “Been nice meeting with you all—”
Symon didn’t extend his hand but shook his head. “When Willamina said ‘all’ she meant you, too. Aunt B said she’s looking forward to seeing you again.”
“Uh-oh,” Noah said. “I hope I’ve outgrown her reprimands for acting up in class.”
“Did you dare do that?” Paul asked as they began walking up the path toward the big house.
“Not really. We all loved her, respected her. Wanted to please her.”
In grade school he’d thought her the smartest, finest person he’d ever known. In later years he knew her as the refined lady in the antebellum mansion whose dad had been a state senator. But she’d acted just as pleasant and was still beautiful when he was a college student working on her roof. What would she be like now? He still had the feeling he’d had in the classroom—wanting to please her.
Noah longed to be a part of a group like this, not on the outside being watched lest he hurt Megan like Michael had done. He longed to be in on that private joke all of them seemed to know. He longed to have someone special like Symon had. To have his own...
He breathed a sigh of relief as they reached the screen door and he dispensed with longing for what he didn’t have. That became replaced with a longing for whatever aroma permeated the warm air, whetting his appetite for down-home cooking.
It beat military rations any day.
As soon as he stepped inside, Miss B came toward him, arms extended. “I’d know that hair anywhere.”
He headed for her, delighting in this southern hospitality he’d missed so much.
At the same time, a thought nagged. Michael hadn’t been taught by her. He’d missed a lot. Noah had more advantages—not monetarily but in other ways. A great advantage was having Miss B as a teacher.
If things had been different for Michael, he might be here now.
Was Megan wishing that Noah was Michael?
Lessons in Love Page 5
