Chapter Seven

Savannah had flown with Noah before but always in little prop planes. This was different. Faster. Higher. Not so loud.

They could actually talk without wearing headsets.

He put the plane on autopilot and leaned back to get them bottles of water. Savannah stared nervously out the window.

His attention was only off a few seconds, but her imagination was nearly her undoing.

One look at her face as he turned back and handed her the bottle of water was all it took. “I can see that I’m going to have to teach you to fly so you won’t panic.”

“I think it’s best if you just keep our hands on the wheel.”

He laughed. “All right, but. . .” He gestured toward the empty sky. “There’s not exactly a lot to run into up here.”

“Easy for you to say,” she said. “You never know when some crazy driver will come out of nowhere.”

“If another plane comes within a hundred miles, all sorts of alarms start to go off.”

“Really?”

“Well, no, but it sounds good. We have our own flight path and no one else should be near us.”

“What if someone deviates?”

He shook his head. “It rarely happens.”

“Rarely.”

“When did you become such a nervous flyer?”

“I watch too much TV.”

He looked at her, disbelief evident.

“I do fly a lot, but it’s different up here. Up front.”

“You get used to it.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I could never afford private charter fees.”

“You’ll never pay a fee with me,” he said matter-of-factly, his attention focused on the computers.

His words brought a little flush to her cheeks and some unexpected emotion. Fortunately, he was busy checking the displays and didn’t notice.

Despite her occasional anxieties, the flight was uneventful. Noah assured her that an uneventful flight was the ultimate goal.

After they landed at the Birmingham airport, Noah secured a car. “They keep cars on hand for us to use while we’re here,” he explained.

“Yeah, that part I remembered,” she said, but he was busy signing some paperwork and didn’t seem to hear. How many times had they dashed to a town, took a car to get a burger, and dashed back to the plane to fly home? That wasn’t exactly something a girl could easily forget.

He retrieved their luggage, and together they rolled their bags to the borrowed car.

Savannah checked her phone. No calls from her mother. No calls from anyone.

“No news is good news,” he said, “right?”

“Not with my mother. She may be in full-blown crisis mode by now.”

“That thought terrifies me.”

“Ha. You and me both.”

When they pulled up to her mother’s house, there was still a cop car in the driveway. Her mother lived in a suburban cul-de-sac in a white Victorian-style home with four dormer windows across the third story. The house had been built when Savannah was an infant. She’d lived there until she went away for college at eighteen.

A little sliver of panic shot through her as the memory of driving up to her parents’ house two years after Noah left came back in a flash. There had been an ambulance and three cop cars in the drive way, their lights shattering the peaceful night air.

Her mother had called her cell phone, while Savannah was sitting in a night class, focused on neurotransmitters and the myelin sheath – something she had never forgotten. Her mother had been hysterical – waiting on the ambulance to come and save her father from a heart attack. By the time Savannah pulled up to the house, they had her father in the ambulance. Unfortunately, they had gotten there too late and had not been able to save him. Her mother had sat on the front steps, her head in her hands.

“Savannah?” Noah asked.

“I’m sorry,” she said, trying to smile, pulling herself back to the present. Her mother’s house had been broken into and Whiskers was missing. No one was dying.

“Tell me,” he said.

“My father died of a heart attack two years after you left. I was just. . . I was just. . .”

“I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“It may have been, but you don’t just get over something like that.”

“Let’s check on Mom and see if we can find Whiskers.” She jumped out of the car and rushed inside, her heart racing in spite of telling herself she was overreacting.

Normally, she would have knocked, but the door was unlocked. Her mother was sitting on the sofa talking to the policeman when Savannah walked in. As usual, her mother, who did cardio daily and could easily wear Savannah’s clothes, was impeccably dressed in black slacks with low pumps and a deep-emerald tunic. She had recently cut her hair to her chin, and it bounced healthily against her cheeks as she shook her head.

She got up when she saw Savannah, and drew her into a hug, holding her as though she wouldn’t let her go. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said.

“Whiskers?” Savannah asked, pulling back to meet her mother’s gaze.

Her mother’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I’ve looked everywhere.”

“I’ll look for him,” Savannah said, desperate to remove the agony from her mother’s face. “Mom,” she turned to Noah. “this is. . .”

“Hello, Noah,” her mother said. “Please sit wherever you like. The officer is just leaving.”

Noah obediently sat on the edge of the loveseat and waited.

Savannah began looking for the cat, first checking under the sofa. It was as though her mother just saw Noah last week, not twenty years ago. How could she not show at least a little surprise? Savannah would have to think about that later. It was too overwhelming to think about at the moment.

After her mother saw the officer out and returned to the living room, she went up to Noah and hugged him, too.

“You don’t seem surprised to see me, Mrs. Richards,” he said.

She shrugged. “I knew you’d be back. It was just a matter of time. Please, call me Emily.”

Savannah moved her search upstairs and Emily followed her. After Savannah had searched all possible places a cat could hide, they went back to the living room, where Noah waited.

“Which door was left open?” Savannah asked.

“The back door.”

“Did they take anything?” Other than Whiskers.

“I don’t think so. I don’t have any valuables just lying around. Anything valuable is in your father’s gun safe.”

“Did they take his guns?”

“No, it looks like they tried to pry the safe open, though.”

Savannah held out her hand to Noah. “We’re gonna go out back and look around for a few minutes.”

“Go ahead. I’ve looked everywhere. I’m gonna call your sister again.”

Savannah led Noah out the back door. They sat on the big porch swing, not touching, but only inches apart. Savannah was flooded with memories of them doing more than sitting out here.

“Whiskers must be pretty scared,” Noah commented, seemingly unaffected by such memories.

“I’m sure.” She scanned the yard, looking for any sign whatsoever of the white Persian cat.

“Has he ever been outside before?”

“I don’t think his feet have ever touched the ground.”

“Did you tell her I was coming?”

Savannah turned and focused her attention on Noah. “I hadn’t even told her that we ran into each other, much less that you were coming with me.”

“That’s odd.”

“It’s very odd.”

“Did you ever talk about me?”

Savannah frowned.

“I mean, it’s just weird that she reacted like that.”

“She’s stressed out. Anyway, you never know what she’s going to say. I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”

“It’s almost like it was yesterday and not twenty years ago.”

She laughed. “I’m telling you, you’ll drive yourself in circles if you keep trying to figure it out.”

“I’ll ask her about it.”

“She always liked you.”

“Really?” His face lit up.

“Of course. My dad liked you, too.”

“That’s good to know. You two were close.”

“Our family was close-knit. My sister, though, is more like my mom. A little odd, as you would say. I’m more like my dad. More scientific.”

“Wasn’t he a professor?”

“Good memory.”

“I remember him being kind of quiet, but always very polite.”

“That’s my dad. Quiet and polite.”

“You’re kind of a cross between your two parents.”

“Thank you,” wondering if that had been a compliment. Her mother could be a little difficult at times. She got up, went to stand at the edge of the porch, and looked toward what had been her father’s tool shed.

She squinted. Something moved.

Could it be?

She dashed down the stairs and across the lawn, toward the tool shed. Huddled there, next to the edge of the tool shed, was a bright-eyed white cat. “Whiskers!” she said, walking slowly so as not to spook him.

He stood up, swished his tail in the air, and walked toward her. She reached down, picked him up, and held him close as he clung to her shoulder. Noah watched her from the top step.

“Where have you been, little guy?” she asked. “Your mommy is going to be so happy.”

“I take it this is Whiskers,” Noah said, opening the back door for them.

“This is Whiskers. The one we flew all the way from New York to find.”

Once Emily and Whiskers were reunited, Savannah and Noah sat side by side, again, not touching, but only inches apart, on the sofa.

“What do we do now?” he asked.

She shrugged. Hugged a blue throw pillow to her.

“Do you want to go back to New York?”

“Not right now. I’m a little tired.”

“Come here,” he said, shifting to rub her shoulders. As he massaged the tension from her neck, she moaned softly.

“Good?”

“You have no idea.”

“OK,” Emily said, coming into the room. “I have the guest room ready. You two can sleep there tonight.”

“Oh, um.” Savannah was torn between coherent thought and the feel of Noah’s hands on her neck and shoulders. “We don’t sleep in the same room.”

Her mother narrowed her eyes in that way only mothers could do. “Well, I suppose you’ll work it out.”

Noah stopped and sat back. Savannah’s head began to clear. “What about one of the other rooms?”

“Your sister’s room is in the process of being painted, and there’s no bed in there anyway. I made the other guest room into my hobby room.”

“Maybe I could sleep with you.”

“Not a chance.”

“It’s OK,” Noah said, glancing around. “I can sleep on the couch.” His words carried very little conviction.

“Figure it out,” Emily said, “and don’t even think about getting a hotel. I’m making dinner. And I have wine. Noah if you’ll come open it.”

They got up and followed Emily to the kitchen, where she had salad greens and pasta spread out on the large kitchen island.

She handed Noah the opener and the bottle of pinot noir.

Noah poured wine into three glasses. Savannah picked up her glass up and gulped down several sips.

It was disconcerting being in her childhood home with her mother pushing her to spend the night with a man from her past whom she was barely reacquainted with.

For some odd reason, her mother seemed completely unsurprised to see them together. And determined to get them in bed.

Perhaps she had fallen down a rabbit hole.

The irony of it all was that twenty years ago, there was no way in hell they would be allowed to sleep in the same room together in this house. Had that been her father’s rule? Or had time merely mellowed her mother?

As her mother stirred her famous Italian sauce, Savannah washed and broke up lettuce and spinach and added them to a large salad bowl.

“What can I do to help?” Noah asked.

“You get a free pass this time,” Emily said. “Next time you come over, you can help.”

“Fair enough,” he said, perching on a bar stool to watch them.

“Where do you live, Noah?” her mother asked.

Savannah cringed inwardly. She hadn’t even bothered to ask Noah such a basic, albeit important question. Part of her hadn’t wanted to know. As long as she didn’t know such basic information, they still lived in a fairy tale world.

“I’m living in Fort Worth,” he said.

“Near your family,” she said.

“Actually, my father passed away a few years ago, and my mother lives in an assisted living facility.”

“I am so sorry to hear that,” Emily said.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Savannah asked.

“It didn’t come up yet. Actually, I live there because I’m close to my daughter.”

Savannah froze. Her hands nearly slipped on the knife chopping carrots. She looked up and met his gaze. “It didn’t come up yet?” she asked.

“I didn’t want to freak you out.”

“I’m not freaked out,” she said. “You’re a grown man. You should have children,” she insisted, knowing her voice conveyed her surprise, nonetheless.

“Just one,” he clarified.

She wiped her hair from her forehead with her wrist and continued to chop carrots, with a vengeance now.

Her college sweetheart had a daughter. The man she had thought, in her delusional world, was exactly the same man she had loved so many years ago, was now a man with a child.

Her brain attempted to integrate this new information. That Noah Worthington was a father. But her mind only wrapped around itself and ended up back where it started, in a shock of disbelief.

There was a time when she had thought they would have children together. And a picket fence. He had shattered that dream when he had disappeared.

Even now with their reconnection, that fantasy had been fanned back to life, where it simmered in embers at the back of her mind.

But now. . .

“How old is she?” Emily asked, no doubt recognizing the look on her daughter’s face.

“She’ll be eighteen in a couple of months. She’s a senior in high school.”

Well, at least he had waited a little before getting someone else pregnant. Savannah kept her eyes down, picking up a stalk of celery and chopping it into a pulp.

The anger that welled up in her was unexpected.

Anger wasn’t one of the emotions she had ever connected with Noah.

But now. . . now that he was back in her life, her emotions had become more. . . well-rounded.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

I have no reason to be angry. It’s not rational. “Sorry for what?” She forced herself to look up, meet his gaze, and curve her lips up at the corners in a semblance of a smile.

Emily had slipped out of the room, leaving them alone.

“I don’t know,” he said.

“I’m just surprised, that’s all. You must be very proud.”

“I am,” he beamed. “Would you like to see a picture?”

“Of course,” she said.

“Here’s her senior photo,” he said, showing her a picture on his phone.

Noah’s daughter was blonde. And beautiful. She had her daddy’s eyes and someone else’s bow-shaped mouth.

“She’s gorgeous,” she said, and meant it. Of course, Noah would have a beautiful child.

“Guess the marriage was a little more than in name only.” She hated herself for saying it out loud. She just couldn’t help herself.

“It was on our wedding night. It’s the only time I ever touched her. Every time I even looked at her, I felt like I was cheating on you.”

Savannah digested that information. Allowed it to sink in. She hadn’t been the only one in pain. She inhaled deeply, steadying herself before looking into his eyes. Twenty years had passed between them. But there was one thing she had to remember.

He was here now.

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” she said, dumping the celery and carrots into the salad bowl.

“Not a chance,” he said.

“OK, you can take the couch.”

“Do you remember the last night we slept here?” he asked. “It was after midnight before I could sneak into your room.”

“I was already asleep.”

“Not for long,” he reminded her.

She felt the heat creep up her cheeks. Being here reminded her just how much this man knew about her.

“I never told you,” he said, picking up a carrot stick and munching on it. “I ran into your dad in the hallway.”

Her eyes widened. “My dad saw you coming to my room?”

Noah nodded. “My hand was on the doorknob.”

Her dad had never said anything to her about seeing Noah that night. “What did he say?”

“He said ‘good night, Noah.’”

“Wow,” she said. A whole host of emotions rushed through her.

She quickly tamped them back down and laughed. “I guess it wouldn’t be all that strange, after all, for us to sleep in the same bed.

“Not for me,” he said.

Before Savannah could process that comment, Emily came back into the kitchen and took plates from the cabinet. “Who’s hungry?” she asked.

After dinner, the three of them went around and checked the door locks. After this morning’s break-in, Emily seemed to still be a little shaky. Noah mostly followed along just in case he was needed.

“I’m gonna stay down here and read for a little while,” he said, after Emily had gone up to bed.

“Sure,” Savannah said. “There are blankets in the closet in case you get cold.”

“I’m good,” he said, opening his iPad.

Savannah went upstairs to her room, washed her face, and took a pair of sleep shorts and a T-shirt from the dresser. They had left their luggage in the car. Noah must have gone out to get a few things, but Savannah had basic clothes and toiletries here, at her mother’s house.

She climbed into bed and listened to the familiar quietness of the house. The sounds were different from her house on Lake Martin. Here, the central air conditioning unit was just beneath her window. Subsequently, she didn’t need the little white noise machine she used to lull herself to sleep at home. She blamed this air conditioner for her inability to sleep without a constant roar in the background.

The presence of other people in the house was different, she mused, from living alone. There was comfort in it. She estimated that she spent about one week a month in hotels. There was comfort in knowing that people were sleeping next door, but because they were strangers, it was a different kind of comfort.

It was unsettling that her mother’s home had been broken into just earlier that day. She felt vulnerable. Yet, with Noah downstairs knew she was safe.

Noah, the father.

Though she thought he should have told her about his daughter, she could understand why he didn’t. He was divorced – almost – and he and she were getting reacquainted. There were several things they hadn’t discussed. Several things left over from years gone by. His daughter was just one of them.

Why he had left without a word was another. A big one. One she was beginning to understand.

But they seemed to have a tacit agreement that those things would be sorted out in good time. In the meantime, they were getting to know each other again. Getting to know the people they were now.

The same. Different.

She liked who Noah was now. He’d been cute when they were young, but now he was handsome. Successful. A pilot for a major airline.

She smiled as she considered that he had dropped everything not only to track her down, but also to stay with her. To show her the sights of New York. To get her home to resolve a family crisis. He hadn’t belittled the nature of the crisis as many others surely would have.

There was still a spark between them. Was that spark something that never completely died?

She was confused by the range of new emotions that he evoked in her.

She’d felt sad when he hadn’t returned to Auburn all those years ago. But she’d quickly kicked that sadness into her studies.

Perhaps she hadn’t dealt with his leaving. Perhaps she had unresolved issues.

Focusing on the moonlight outside the bedroom widow, she attempted to quiet the thoughts rambling through her head.

Using the relaxation technique she’d learned over the years, she drifted into sleep.

And in the darkness of night, with moonbeams shining into the room, she dreamed that Noah snuggled next to her as she slept, cradling her with her back against his chest, his arms around her. His chin on the top of her head. The way they had slept so many nights so many years ago.

But when she woke, with the moonbeams replaced by the glow of the morning sun, she was alone in the bed. Only the faintest hint of masculinity lingered in the air and she dismissed it as her imagination.

It was most likely just the coffee and bacon she smelled drifting up from the kitchen.

 

Emily had already been up when Noah went into the kitchen for morning coffee. There was a fresh pot next to the latte machine – no doubt there for Savannah’s use. He found a mug, left his coffee black, and searched out the Verismo pods needed to make Savannah’s latte. He considered taking coffee to her in bed, but decided that with her mother here, it was one gesture that should probably wait. Instead, he found Emily in the sunroom. “Good morning,” he said. “Am I interrupting?”

“Not at all,” she said. “Please come on in. I spend more time alone than I care to admit.”

“It’s nice out here.”

“I’ve got my plants and my birds out there. They’ll be back.” She nodded toward the bird feeders set up outside the window.

“Do you mind if I make breakfast?” he asked. Noah loved to cook breakfast. There was something about starting the day with a home-cooked meal that always put him in a good mood. He enjoyed the routine of it. The smell of it.

“Are you kidding? A man who can cook? And enjoys it. Does Savannah know how rare that is?”

“Savannah and I are slowly making our way back to being reacquainted.”

“It shouldn’t be all that hard.”

“It takes a minute.”

“Not much, I would think, after the way you two were attached at the hip.”

“I apologize for the way that ended.”

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to.”

“You’re absolutely right. I’m getting around to straightening all that out.”

“It wasn’t your choice, was it?”

“You’re a wise woman, Mrs. Richards. You’re right. There was a. . . problem with my father.”

“I told her you had a good reason for what you did.”

“Turns out the reason wasn’t so good.”

“I also told her you’d be back. I’m not sure that was the best thing to tell her. I think she waited for years for you.”

“You can’t know how much I regret that.”

“Well. . . it seems I was right after all.”

Noah laughed. “You were right after all.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. A couple of sparrows flitted around the bird feeder but seemed more interested in each other than the bird seeds.

“How did you know?” he asked.

“I could say a mother knows these things, but honestly, it was just a lucky guess. And like I said, I had it off by too many years for it to count and for her own good.”

“I hope to make that up to her.”

“I would expect no less. I just have one thing to say.”

“Sure,” he said, steeling himself.

“Don’t disappear on her again.”

“Only if she runs me off.”

“Ha. I hope you’re not counting on that happening.”

Noah drained his cup. “I think I’ll get a refill and get started on breakfast. That is if you don’t mind me in your kitchen.”

“Absolutely I do not mind. I’ve already eaten, so make yourself at home.”

Emily’s kitchen was organized to the hilt. It took him no time to find what he needed for a hearty breakfast.

He cracked eggs, flipped bacon, and grated some potatoes. It occurred to him that Savannah didn’t eat this kind of breakfast. At least based on her menu choice of breakfast items yesterday.

Nonetheless, he made the things he liked to eat.

He did a double take when he saw her standing in the doorway. She had on a white mid-calf length cotton robe that flowed around her and was tied at the waist, cozy suede slippers on her feet, and her hair was tousled with sleep. He’d never seen her look so sexy.

“Good morning,” he said, taking a step toward her to pull her into a hug. Her softness against him sent shock waves through his body. He had to remind himself that he had taken a personal vow to take it slow with her. To allow the trust to rebuild.

“Hi,” she said, bending down to pick up Whiskers. She held him close and petted his head. Whiskers meowed. “Meow. Meow. Me. Meow.”

“The talking cat.”

“See, I told you.”

“I know you’re not all that big on breakfast, but if you want to join me, I have enough.” Enough was an understatement. He’d counted on her eating with him. Somehow it had become very important that she be the one he could share his love of cooking breakfast with.

His ex had managed to always sleep through breakfast. The few times he had attempted to share, she had been on her way out. Breakfast with the girls. He always wondered why breakfast with her husband was never an answer. But, then, neither one of them had ever been overly enthusiastic about their arranged marriage. The fact that they had a daughter was a miracle in itself. If his child’s eyes hadn’t looked so much like his own, he would have wondered. . .

It had happened on the Celebrity cruise during the honeymoon. There was a martini bar right outside the main dining room. The bar was refrigerated and had a layer of ice on top, which kept the martinis deliciously cold. Martinis that were the best he had ever had before or since. Even extra olives, chilled to perfection and soaked in vermouth.

What happened after the martinis from heaven was a little hazy. He remembered rambling about how there should be benefits of holding the husband title. More benefits than his father and his blackmail could provide.

He had no doubt she’d been willing. No haziness on that part. He wasn’t the only one drinking martinis, after all. And it was their honeymoon. They’d spent the last two days pretending to like each other. Fake it ‘til you make it, his mother had always said.

After the confined cruise, his society wife had managed to quickly find her way into Fort Worth high society with frequent weekend trips home to California.

The trips had come to an abrupt halt, however, after the pregnancy. The math had been the easy part. Her obvious distaste for being confined to Fort Worth was not.

He often wondered what her own father had threatened her with in order to make sure she married Noah. She never said and he had only asked once. Noah was a quick learner.

 

“You cook,” Savannah said, gazing at him as though he were a unique specimen. Which, apparently he was. A man who could fly a plane, cook a meal, and look at her in a way that made her feel like she was the only woman on Earth.

She sat at the little breakfast table, and he set a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, hash browns, and toast in front of her. No jelly. Not her usual breakfast of granola and yogurt, but one bite, and she was hooked.

“You’re a man of many talents,” she said.

“I might be,” he said, teasingly.

“You know,” she said, holding her breath just a little, then plunging in. “I’ve kind of gotten used to you planning our days.” She kept her eyes on her plate and nibbled a corner off the toast. She could so get used to this homemade breakfast thing, too.

He didn’t respond. She actually wondered if he had left the room. When she looked up, he was grinning from ear to ear.

“I’m glad you said that,” he said.

She smiled back. It was an involuntary reaction around him. “Why is that?” she asked.

“Because since I know that you’re still on vacation, I was toying around with a few ideas.”

“Is that so?” She found that little smidge of cockiness irresistible. Always had.

“Yes,” he said, sitting down to join her. “But first, I have to run a quick errand. Are you OK with staying here for a couple of hours?’

“Sure,” she said. Cockiness and mysteriousness all swirled into one.

After breakfast, he rinsed, and she placed the dishes in the dishwasher. “Have you seen my mom this morning?”

“She’s in the sunroom.”

“Still?”

He shrugged. “Maybe she was giving us a few minutes alone.”

“Maybe,” she said, though that truly did not sound like her mother. Her mother’s philosophy was that visitors, especially her daughter, should have stayed home if they wanted alone time. But then, technically, with Noah here, it wasn’t exactly alone time.

“I think I’ll check on her, then get my shower.”

“Sounds good. That’ll give me more than enough time to get back.”

He took her hand, kissed her knuckles, then pulled her into a tight bear hug. And held on like he never wanted to let go.

He pulled back enough to press a kiss against the corner of her mouth.

Then he was gone and she was left feeling a little bereft. A feeling she hadn’t experienced since Noah had shown up at her hotel. Noah was going to be trouble, indeed.

On the way to check in with her mother, she smiled to herself. In just a few short days, it seemed, she and Noah had once again become attached at the hip.