Page 90 of Intermission
“Forgive me,” he whispers. “Forgive us. We want to honor you, to follow the rules that will let us be true to the love we know is real, but we really stink at following through with the promises we’ve made. Please help us to make things right and to be stronger in the future.” With each sentence, each earnest request, his voice gains strength. “Fill us with your peace, Lord. And if it’s your will, please soften Mrs. Prescott’s heart toward us. And Dr. Prescott’s, too.”
A strange, sizzling knowledge moves up my arms and across my shoulders, even as tears wet my cheeks. In this moment, more than any in my experience, I sense the presence of God with us, almost apart from time, as Noah prays.
“Help us to trust that your timing is perfect, even when it doesn’t seem fast enough for us. Help us to flee from the temptation to deceive others. Help us shine the light of truth to Faith’s family, to our friends, and to the world by honoring you.” Noah squeezes my hands. “Lord, we love you. We trust you to protect and defend the love you’ve allowed to grow between us.” He takes a deep breath. “May we walk through each moment, cognizant that you are beside us, before us, behind us, and working through us. May your will be done in our lives and in our relationship, as it is in Heaven. In the precious name of Jesus Christ, we pray. Amen.”
To add to his prayer would be superfluous. Noah said everything I should have said to God, everything I longed to say to God, for me. All that’s required of me is my agreement.
My “amen” is little more than a whisper, but holy prickles alight on my skin, acknowledging the cry of my heart—our hearts.
Still holding my hands, Noah stands. Once I’m on my feet, he drops them.
“Now, Madeleine Faith, my dearest friend in the world, I think it’s time we hike to your house.” He gives a slight frown. “Or should we go get my car and drive down there?”
And just like that, the tingles disappear, replaced with a sinking dread that pulls hope from the base of my brain, one tendril at a time.
“Let’s get your car,” I say with a sigh. “You might need a quick getaway if things go bad.”
When we arrive at my house, however, Mom is out running errands. Though I know it’s only a temporary stall, I breathe a sigh of relief. Her absence secures Noah’s entry into the house.
Dad frowns when we walk into the living room but stands when Noah crosses the room and offers his hand.
“Dr. Prescott.” He shakes my dad’s hand. “I’m Noah Spencer. I know you weren’t expecting to see me today, but if you have a moment, I need to speak with you.”
Dad invites Noah to sit, albeit reluctantly, and listens to our apology for meeting in a way that violated my agreement with Mom and, by extension, him as well.
We take turns speaking, but Noah does most of the talking, whichis good, since his calm delivery comes across better than my rambling apologies.
“I appreciate you coming to speak with me,” Dad says, finally, but his frown is still in place. “But unless there’s something you’re not telling me about the, uh, extent of your relationship...”
We both shake our heads.
“We’ve told you everything, Dad.”
“Then I’m not really sure why you both seem so upset about having gone hiking together.” He looks at me. “It sounds like your mother was pretty specific in her requirements, and she never said you couldn’t go to the waterfall, so I don’t have an issue with it. But she also said you weren’t to bring Noah here. You did, and I’m afraid that’s not going to sit well with her.”
“But you understand why we thought it was necessary, don’t you, sir?”
“Can’t say that I—” Dad is interrupted by the ringing phone. “Can you grab that, Faith?”
I do. And that’s when everything falls apart.
“Faith, I told you I didn’t want that boy at our house.”
“Mom? How did you—?”
“Put your father on the phone.”
Panic grips my chest. “It’s Mom.” I hold out the phone to my dad. “She wants to talk to you.”
Once he says hello, Dad doesn’t utter another word for a good minute. Finally, he says, “Okay,” and hits the end button on the handset, expelling a long sigh. “Faith, your mother is in the garage. I guess she recognized Noah’s car from the last time he was here.”
Dad stands up. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave, Noah. Janet says she will not come in the house until you’re gone.”
“She won’t—” Noah blinks. “She won’t even talk to me?”
Dad shakes his head. “I think it would be best if you go now.” He holds out his hand awkwardly. “I’ll pass on what you said, but... I wouldn’t hold your breath for an invitation to come back. Once Janet makes up her mind, there’s no changing it.”
Noah shakes Dad’s offered hand, his face wreathed in puzzlement. “What about you? Do you understand now that I truly care for your daughter? That I want to do the right thing by her and by you, as herparents?”
