Page 109 of Intermission
“We broke some rules tonight,” he whispers.
“I know. I don’t care. Maybe I should, but I couldn’t let you go without saying—”
Noah pulls me into his arms so suddenly that it steals the rest of my words—the one word I was unable to say, that I would not lethimsay, before.
“Goodbye, Madeleine Faith,” he whispers, pressing me tightly to his chest.
And then . . . he releases me.
It’s more than just the physical release of his arms letting me go. It’s a splicing. A severing. We both know it. And it hurts.
It hurts so much.
Without another word, without looking back, Noah turns and strides farther up the dry creek bed.
My hand flutters to my throat. As his shadow retreats against the night, my response is a stage whisper.
“Goodbye, Noah.”
A slight hitch in his step is the only indication he’s heard me, but it’s enough.
It has to be.
My hike toward home is slow. Each hill is steeper, more difficult than the last. Each step away from the Nature Preserve is another thousand miles between me and Noah.
When our house finally comes into view, it’s dark. No doubt Dad fell asleep watching TV. And since, as he so truly stated, I’ve spent so much time in my room this summer, by the time he woke up to shuffle off to bed, he probably forgot I went for a walk. If Mom’s home by now, she, too, has likely assumed I’m up in my room. It’s a relief, but a dull one, considering the two years stretching before me without Noah.
The front door is locked. I punch in the code to the garage door and enter that way instead, waiting for it to shut all the way before opening the door to the house. When the latch on the inside door catches, I wince, knowing how easily sound carries through a dark house at night.
Janey’s claws click against the slate floor, but that’s not an unusual sound, since her food and water dishes are in the mudroom—and that’s where she goes.
On cautious feet, I tiptoe down the short hall, passing Dad’s study on my way to the stairs, but with only patches of moonlight guiding me through the house, it doesn’t register that someone is standing just inside the study until a cold chill sweeps down my neck.
“Where in God’s name have you been?”
“Mom!” I jump inside my skin. “Geez! You scared me!”
“I scaredyou?” She steps through the door. “Answer the question.”
“The waterfall. I went to the waterfall.”
“Right. You sneak into the house like that after eleven o’clock at night and expect me to believe you’ve been at thewaterfall, in thedark, this whole time?”
“Iwasat the waterfall!”
“Were you alone?”
My heart rate speeds as if trying to propel itself out of my body. I hesitate a moment too long.
“Were you with Noah Spencer?”
“Yes.” I will not lie about it. “I was with Noah.”
“I knew it!”
Mom grabs my forearm, like she’s going to drag me to the time-out chair. Or the execution chamber, maybe, if her stony, wrathful expression is an accurate indication of her plans for me.
“You’ve been sneaking off to fool around with that boy behind my back all summer, haven’t you?”
