Chapter 29

PRESENT DAY

 

Things are quiet today, like we were all drinking too much and now we’ve got a collective hangover. I stay in the bedroom as long as possible, and when I come out, Lily is playing on the floor of the living room. I glance out the window and see Noah is sitting on the patio in his wheelchair, reading a book.

“Did Noah say anything to you before he went out?” I ask Lily.

She shrugs. “I told him I wanted to go explore, but he said that I should ask you. He said he was too tired.”

Too tired. Noah has had boundless energy during this trip, but suddenly he’s tired.

“Okay,” I say. “Go put on your sneakers and we’ll go explore together.”

We both put on unintentionally matching outfits of blue jean shorts and light purple shirts. Now I’ve become one of those women who dresses her kid just like herself. I hate women like that.

When Noah sees how the two of us are dressed, a flicker of amusement flitters across his face, but it quickly fades. He goes back to the book he’s reading, which isn’t even a real book. It’s something medical.

“We’re going for a walk,” I tell him.

He puts the book down on his lap and hesitates, his hands on the wheels of his chair, like he’s thinking about going with us. “Don’t go too far down the right bank of the river. There’s poison ivy down there.”

Poison ivy? What the hell? I didn’t know that was a possibility around here.

“Um, okay, we’ll just go to the left,” I say, scratching subconsciously at my calf.

His brow furrows. “You know what poison ivy looks like, right?”

I stare at him blankly. What in our history would lead him to believe I know what poison ivy looks like?

Noah sighs. “They’re usually green this time of year and they look a lot like oak leaves.” Whatever those look like. “They usually have three broad leaves.”

“Leaves of three, let it be!” Lily bursts out.

I laugh. “Where did you learn that?”

“Noah taught me the other day,” she says in a way that makes me feel silly for having asked, as if there was any other way she could obtain information. “Noah, are you coming with us?”

It looks like she’s over the trauma of seeing him without his prosthetics on. She doesn’t seem at all bothered by the sight of his abbreviated thighs underneath his shorts.

“Uh, I think I’m going to pass,” Noah says.

“But if you come, then if I get tired, you can give me a ride on your chair,” she points out.

That comment makes Noah smile. “I think your mom is going to have to carry you.”

Yeah, right. Lily weighs over fifty pounds—I can barely lift her, much less carry her any meaningful distance. He must think I’m somebody who swims five miles three times a week. And God knows what else he does the rest of the week.

I head off with Lily in the direction of the lake. I figure if we follow the bank, then we’re less likely to be lost forever. I head to the left (he said left, right?) so that we avoid the poison ivy. I’m hoping Lily doesn’t ask me to identify any insects or plants or anything natural. If she does, I’ll have to make it up. Most bugs are beetles anyway, right?

When we get to the lake, I pick up a flat stone. “You know, you can skim stones along the water.”

“What’s skimming stones?” Lily asks.

During my junior year of college, Noah drove us out to a lake for a picnic and that’s where he showed me how to skim a stone. “I can’t believe you’re twenty years old and you’ve never done this before,” he said.

“So teach me,” I said.

“The trick is to pick the perfect stone. It should be as flat, smooth, and circular as possible.”

We searched on the shore to find the perfect stone. He rejected three of my choices as “ridiculous” before approving the fourth stone.

“Now you want your throw to be low—as close to parallel with the water as you can get without actually being parallel,” he said. He demonstrated as he tossed his stone at the water and it bounced five times before sinking. “And you’ve got to have spin on it.”

Getting a stone to skip along the water ended up being even harder than picking the perfect stone. I tried stone after stone, but each of them hit the water and sank. When I finally got one to skim the water, I was jumping around and yelling like an idiot. Noah laughed and kissed me until I forgot all about those stupid stones. Until today.

“So you’ve got to pick a stone that’s flat and round,” I tell Lily, as Noah told me.

“Like this?” She holds up a giant rock.

“No,” I say patiently. I sift along the stones by the water until I find one that looks appropriate. “Flat and round and not too big. Like this.”

I bend down to be level with the water and toss the stone. It sinks immediately. Damn it.

“What’s it supposed to do?” Lily asks.

“It’s supposed to bounce.”

“It didn’t do that.”

“Yes, I know.”

I try again with another half dozen stones until Lily gets bored. “You’re really bad at this, Mommy,” she says. Thanks, sweetie.

We walk along the water and point out the boats going by. Lily is skipping along the water, swinging her arms next to her. “I hope we get to go out on the boat again,” she comments.

“Me too,” I say, “but I’m not sure we will.”

“How come?”

I think of the look on Noah’s face last night when I jerked away from him. Why did I do that? I was just startled—it was an automatic reaction. “I don’t know. We have to go back home soon.”

Lily frowns in disappointment, but goes back to skipping. I wish I could live in the moment the way she does. That’s the best thing about kids. They can be devastated about something in one minute, then forget all about it the next. Adults can’t do that. I can’t stop thinking about how Noah feels about me. I can’t just enjoy this beautiful day with my daughter, even though I’m trying.

Lily is skipping along when I see her foot catch on a rock. She quickly goes sprawling across the sand. Of course, she’s still small enough that she can fall without significant injury. But she’s on the floor wailing like somebody just stabbed her.

“It huuuuuurrrrrrts, Mommy!” she sobs as she clutches her leg.

“It’s okay.” I give her a hug, but then I notice that my hand comes away dark red. That’s when I noticed the dark red rivulets dripping down my daughter’s shin. Oh my God, Lily is bleeding. A lot. “You scraped yourself?”

“That rock cut me!” Lily glares at the offending rock.

Lily is clutching her injured knee protectively. I know that I should take a look at it, but she won’t let me, and the truth is, it’s probably for the best. I’m just as squeamish as I ever was. I need to keep my wits about me to get the two of us home.

Thankfully, we haven’t gone far. I can still see the cabin from where we’re crouched on the ground. But I have a bad feeling Lily can’t walk. I’m going to have to carry her.

“All right.” I brace myself. “Lily, grab onto my neck.”

She holds onto my neck and I heave her butt into the air. She’s clinging to me, so that’s making it easier to carry her. I just need to try not to think about all the blood dripping down her leg and likely staining my jean shorts.

The first two minutes of carrying Lily aren’t so bad. The next two minutes are uncomfortable. The rest of the way is complete agony. I am so out of shape. By the time I get to the cabin, Lily might as well weigh a thousand pounds. My arms are rubber.

I see Noah has put his prosthetics on and he’s climbing into his car. If he drives away, I’m toast. “Noah!” I yell.

He hears me, thank God. I let Lily slip out of my arms just as he’s walking over. I see his eyes widen at the sight of her bleeding right leg.

“That was quite a nature walk,” he comments.

Lily bursts into tears all over again. “It hurts so much!” she wails.

Noah looks like he’s contemplating picking her up but decides against it. He reaches out his hand to hers and she takes it. “Let’s get in the house,” he says. “I’ve got my first aid kit and I’ll get you patched up.”

Noah and his first aid kits. They do come in handy an awful lot, though.

Lily limps into the house and sits down on the sofa. She’s still got her hand covering her right knee protectively. Noah sits down on the couch beside her with his box of supplies.

“Lily,” he says gently. “I know it’s hurting a lot, but I’ve got to see it. I promise I’ll get the whole thing bandaged up and it won’t hurt anymore.”

Her lower lip trembles, but she very, very slowly removes her hand from her right knee. And oh my God, it looks bad. I knew it was bleeding a lot, but I didn’t expect a gash like that. It’s so big and bloody and…

“Oh shit!” I hear Noah yell. I feel his arms catching me seconds before I hit the floor. I don’t entirely pass out, but my legs feel as rubbery as my arms and I can’t see because of all the spots in front of my eyes. He lowers me carefully onto the couch beside him and I lean my head against the pillows. After a second, my vision seems to clear but I still feel dizzy.

Noah looks between the two of us. “I don’t know who to treat first.”

“I’m fine,” I say, feeling extremely foolish. “Help Lily.”

I listen to him talking to her gently as he patches up her knee. They must love him in the ER—he’s so kind and patient with her. I hear him telling her that she doesn’t need stitches (thank God) and assuring her that the bleeding is already stopping. He applies some antiseptic ointment and then puts on a bandage.

“All better!” Noah declares.

I manage to sit up enough to see Lily beaming at him. She hops off the couch and skips off to her room, apparently entirely healed. That’s what I’m talking about—living in the moment.

Noah turns to look at me. “And how’s Mommy doing?”

“I’ll be fine.”

He raises his eyebrows at me. “I thought you’d have outgrown that by now.”

I glare at him. “Well, I haven’t.”

“Well,” he says, “it sure brought back memories.”

We look at each other. I start to lean forward as if to kiss him, but he shakes his head and pulls away.

I bite my lip. “Thank you for your help with Lily.”

He nods. “It’s fine.” He glances at the door. “I’m going out for a while.”

“Noah…”

“I’ll see you later.” He rises to his feet, no longer looking at me. “I’ll get more ice cream, okay?”

“Okay,” I say in a small voice.

And then he’s gone.