Page 105 of Intermission
It’s too hot to move this fast. Still, I race Janey up the first big hill before trying to pace myself.
Even this early in the evening, it’s much darker under the full-leafed trees. The dim light, combined with my anticipation, seems to make the trail a good fifty miles longer than it is. Finally, I reach my favored slope for descending into the creek bed.
The creek is nearly dry now, as it often is in August. Dust spirals up from the weeds as Janey and I find footholds on the crumbling bank. Janey runs ahead, out of sight, but when her happy bark sounds, hope dances through my core.
I pick up my pace.
I’m not quite around the bend when Janey reappears, prancing around a Noah-in-motion.
When our eyes meet, he halts, and his face tilts skyward. I think the words, “Thank you” cross his lips in that brief moment before he looks at me again, grinning.
“Well, if it isn’t Madeleine Faith Prescott. We’ve really got to stop meeting like this.”
“How right you are,” I quip. “How about you move to London or something, then, and stay offmywaterfall?”
“Your waterfall, is it? And here I thought it was part of the nature preserve.” He laughs, but his smile grows pensive as he takes a deep breath in through his nose. “I guess we’re ending back at the beginning, aren’t we? It’s a little... weird.”
“Yeah.” I nod. “At least this time you know Janey’s not going to rip out your throat.”
“True.” He kneels and scratches under Janey’s chin. “That is one pleasant difference.” His smile widens as he stands and holds out his hand.
The five remaining steps between us disappear. Slipping my hand into its only proper home, I let him lead me across the heat-evaporated creek to our favorite perch.
We stand, hand in hand, looking over the ledge. “Do you remember how I ended up on your waterfall the night we met?”
“You were lost.” I smile. “And singing ‘Inútil.’ But changing the words, of course.” It seems decades ago.
“Yes. To fit how useless I felt.”
I nod. “I think you said something about being frustrated. That you needed direction or something.” I give him the larger half of a smirk. “Pretty ironic, huh? Since you were lost.”
“Ironic. Yes. Wasn’t it though?” He laughs softly. “But I found new direction when I found you.”
“I found you, actually.”
“So you did. Serendipity is a beautiful thing. But it was more than that.” He rocks back on his heels. “That night could have gone so differently. I came out here to hike off some steam. To sing, yes, since Mr. B told me how great the acoustics were. But I also needed to vent, to yell—or sing or whatever—at God and the world. That was my intention for coming out here, to let it all out, where no one would hear me make a fool of myself. But once I got here and gotlosthere, I was too frustrated with how things were going—or not going, as it were—to even know where to begin. Finally, right before you got here, I prayed. I prayed for faith. And there you were.”
“Har, har.”
“As corny as it sounds, it’s the truth.” Noah shakes his head, frowning now at the stagnant water below us. “God has an interesting sense of humor, doesn’t he? Now tonight, when all my frustrated hopes and dreams of that night are about to come true, I decided to come back. To try and connect with God, to try and find some peace about leaving you behind.”
My breath hitches, and when I speak, it’s a whisper. “And what did God say?”
“Well, you’re here, so I guess—”
I don’t wait another moment to wrap my arms around him. A breath later, his settle around me. I tuck my head beneath his chin. My heart sings,Thank you, thank you, thank you.
All this time, we’ve held on to the belief that there’s more to our pairing than the simple, fleeting nature of romance, and tonight, against all odds and with no communication other than two hearts seeking one last moment together, a way has been made. How can I explain how circumstances aligned today, when everything seemed to be falling apart, but to let that serendipity, as Noah called it, rest in the lap of God?
This embrace is honest. It’spure. Even so, it breaks every rule my mom has so strictly enforced this summer.
But if itwasGod who brought us together in the first place, doesn’t that make this okay?
At this moment, with Noah’s arms tightening around me, I don’t have the answer. Is it wrong to think being with Noah is right when it goes against my parents’ orders?
Maybe. But regardless of how my parents might interpret our embrace, this is not a romantic moment. This is something far beyond whatever petty “crush” symptoms my mother fears.
No, this is not romance. It’s bigger, deeper, and much, muchfiercerthan that.
