Connection - Part Fourteen
This episode is part of a larger story, Soft Touch. If you haven’t yet, you can go back and read it from the beginning right here.
There’s a very slight hint of sun glow, of the sky beginning to think of dawn as we drive through sleeping Ketterbridge. A subtle lightening of the dark tint to the air. The shimmer of a very early dewfall. The moon is still bright, but some of the stars are dropping out of visibility.
Gage sits slumped in the backseat with his head down, his hair hanging over his eyes, and doesn’t say anything.
The ride is quiet for the first few minutes. The adrenaline rush and passion high are wearing off all around, leaving in their wake everything we didn’t notice before. Suddenly we’re all aching to the bone, and deeply exhausted. I’ve never run a marathon, but I imagine that if I had done several in a row I still wouldn’t be this tired and sore afterwards.
Noah glances over at Aiden, leaning raggedly back against the driver’s seat. “Feels kinda like the morning after mushies, doesn’t it? All of us sitting around too tired to speak?”
“Except this time we’re not sniffling nonstop,” Aiden laughs, his deep voice hoarse and raw. “That’s an improvement.”
Noah taps the wheel with his thumb, thinking. “What’s that place we used to go to? The hangover diner. Post-mushies diner.”
“Jesus, that little place off the highway?” Aiden folds his elbows on the dashboard, looking like he’s considering just falling asleep on it. “I forgot about that. I don’t remember the real name, but I’m pretty sure it’s still there.”
“Wasn’t it open 24/7?”
“Yeah, I think it’s mostly for truckers. That one waitress might still be working there, though.”
Noah doesn’t answer that, but soon he’s pulling my car into a dark little parking lot off of the highway, illuminated only by the small diner there.
The single waitress at work is surprised by our arrival, and shares with us directly that it’s usually misbehaving teenagers stumbling in here in such a state at this hour. She doesn’t see many groups of adult men doing it, or at least they didn’t back in her day, but it certainly does seem like things are different now, so what does she know. She doesn’t know what the world is coming to, she’ll tell us that much.
Gage, being the one at the front of our group, is the one who has to face down the brunt of this lengthy speech. He does so with a polite, faintly confused smile on his face, letting the flow of words go on until I gently break in with:
“We’re not drunk or high, ma’am. Just tired.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” she says, running her stern eyes over us.
One glance in the mirror on the back wall of the diner makes it obvious why she would never believe any other explanation. We all look like we’re coming down from an absolute carnival of a night, and while our cheeks aren’t glowing cast-iron red anymore, everyone is still pink-faced and glassy-eyed.
Gage looks over his lanky shoulder at Noah. He says something softly in French, with a nod at the waitress. Noah lowers his eyebrows doubtfully, then realizes that Gage is trying to convey a silent message to him. He answers positively, with a nod of confirmation.
The waitress pauses at this fast exchange in French, her extremely sour expression growing dark with suspicion. “What are you saying?”
“We’re agreeing that this is the perfect hour for you to work, mademoiselle,” Gage says, turning back to her. “It’s good that you’re the face people see after a long night. You’re a sight for very tired eyes, like ours.”
She blinks a few times in suspicion, as if not sure if she’s being made fun of. But she sees the warm, handsome smile that Gage manages to transmit with only his sleepy eyes, and blushes a little.
She purses her lips, snaps up a few menus, and marches us to a booth. Thank god. I’m so hungry at this point, and promising smells are wafting out from the kitchen.
The waitress drops our menus on the pale yellow table and leaves without a word. Gage watches her go, then turns back to us, smiling.
“I like her,” he yawns. “She’s nice.”
“For fuck’s sake!” Noah laughs helplessly. He slumps forward until his head is in his tattooed hands, then pulls his beanie all the way down over his eyes. “I give up.”
“Don’t give up before breakfast,” Aiden rumbles, stretching his arms over his head.
“Shit, you’re right.” Noah sits up immediately, shoving his beanie back. “Are we doing the classic order, Aiden?”
“Yeah, I think we’ve got enough people for it.”
Noah eagerly snatches up the menu, then holds it up to our waitress as she stops at our table with coffee mugs.
“Hey, ma’am! You can just bring us everything on the breakfast page of the menu, including all the side dishes. And two extra orders of the honey butter biscuits, and let’s get a few extra sides of bacon, too, and the hash browns. You can also just leave that whole coffee kettle here.”
“And I want a hot chocolate, please,” I add sleepily.
Our waitress gives us a very expressive look that suggests she’s back to not believing in our sobriety, but she writes it all down. Pausing to add the last-minute request from Gage for a cup of strong black tea, whatever she has.
“The cook just leaned out of the kitchen to see who’s all here,” Gage observes, looking past me and Noah. “He seemed surprised that it’s just us.”
“Oh, I’m sure we’ll only be sending back empty plates,” Aiden says firmly.
He’s absolutely right. The little roadside diner can’t hold a candle to Big Belly Deli, of course, but after so long without a bite to eat the hot food tastes heavenly. We tear right through our first round of plates before the second comes close to arriving, going through mouthfuls of waffles and bacon and cheese and puff pastry like it’s nothing.
It all has a powerful reviving effect, especially the cups of coffee with creamy milk. Noah was wise to ask for the whole kettle.
I finally start slowing down halfway through a sticky bun, and look up to realize that Gage is the only one who isn’t really eating much. He’s sitting there with his half-eaten cinnamon bagel on his plate, distractedly sipping from his mug of tea.
He gives himself a little shake, seems to draw himself back to the present moment.
“Hey, thank you guys for picking me up,” he murmurs, folding his arms on the table, breathing out a baffled laugh. “Lucky you were there picking up the flowers. I honestly don’t know what got into me earlier. Guess I was just having a strange night? Filmed one hell of a solo video, though. Wasn’t even really a performance, it was all genuine, and oftentimes those tend to make the best films.”
“I should know better by now,” I cough, putting down the hot chocolate I just choked on. “I should really really know better. No eating, no drinking while he’s talking. Mel told me.”
Noah is staring across the table at Gage, biting down hard on the inside of his lip. “Gage – did you walk to my mom’s house?”
Gage shrugs his shoulders. “I thought about asking if I could borrow the truck, but from what I could hear through the bedroom door it didn’t seem like a good time to disturb you.”
“Pretty long walk, dude.”
Gage gives his shoulders another uncertain shrug. “There’s no bus route that goes close.”
He says it like obviously that only left the option of walking. Not at all like it occurred to him to just not go.
Noah bites down harder on the inside of his cheek. He steals a quick look at me, then turns back to Gage.
“Gage, man…” he begins, speaking with great difficulty, like someone is forcing him. “You’re – you’re like part of the family, you already know that-”
Gage looks up sharply from his tea, blinking very fast. Noah hurriedly goes on before he can answer.
“-and I know that I haven’t been on my best behavior the last couple of years, but even at my worst, anyone I care about could’ve come to me and known I would try to help. So if there’s something you need help with…” He lets his exhausted, hoarse voice fade out for a second, then finishes - “Why don’t you tell Noey how you feel?”
Gage goes perfectly still and very pale for a moment, holding tight to his mug. He begins to straighten up apprehensively, then pauses when Noah adds -
“What’s stopping you? Tell me what’s in your way, so I can help you kick whatever it is the fuck down.”
Gage draws back, considerably startled. He blinks a few times, then breathes out a soft, surprised rush of laughter. I can tell from how his shoulders slump that he’s infinitely relieved to get this explicit statement on where Noah’s loyalties fall.
“You could’ve at least told me, by the way,” Noah adds, with a touch of indignance. “Did you think I’d tell her? You know I wouldn’t!”
Gage’s cheeks regain some of the dark color they had earlier. The secret is undeniably out, now, at least to those of us at this table. But I would still say that Gage seems more relieved than anything, even with the nervous blushing factored in. And full of fondness for Noah, going off the warmth in his expression.
The affectionate, appreciative smile that lights his brown and green eyes falls away quickly, though. He closes them and drops his head, running an exhausted hand over the back of his neck.
“Nah, I knew you wouldn’t tell anyone. It’s just hard on my pride to admit it, given how things worked out, and I also didn’t want you thinking that I was looking for sympathy or attention over it. I’m okay, I don’t need that.”
“Then why not tell Noey?”
“It’s not that simple. I’m… in a difficult position, I – I just can’t. But even if I could, I wouldn’t. It’s actually pretty important to me that she doesn’t find out, ‘cause – she doesn’t feel the same way.” Gage rests his chin on his palm, smiling sadly at Noah. “You heard her. Do I sound like what she wants?”
Noah spreads his inky fingers at him. “No, but clearly you must’ve hoped she’d consider wanting something else!”
“Yeah, I hoped that. Then I was there in Paris since last spring, and she just – didn’t.”
“But she doesn’t know how you feel about her!” Noah protests earnestly. “Rauniers are not good at being able to tell, especially if you’re trying to hide it from us! I thought I was in unrequested love with what turned out to be my husband and wife, for ages!”
“Unrequited,” Aiden murmurs fondly.
Noah flicks a hand at him impatiently. “Whatever!”
“If I was anything like what she wanted,” Gage says quietly, “She wouldn’t be going out with Logan. And she’s never said anything to give me any reason to think otherwise, not since…”
He trails off, his fingers unconsciously going to the tattoo beneath his sweatshirt, then breathes out a sigh and drops his hand back onto the table. He tries to smile reassuringly at Noah.
“It’s okay, man. If you think I’m here to try and get her for myself, you’re wrong. I’m not. I’ve – accepted that she doesn’t want more from me.” His voice, while perfectly calm, has grown strained and constricted. He clears his throat, then goes on more smoothly - “Besides, what would a Raunier think of a man who tried to steal his brother’s girl from him?”
Noah opens his mouth, then shuts it again and twists his wedding band around his finger in frustration, unable to find a good argument against that last part. A move like that would not impress someone who values sibling loyalty very highly, as both Noah and his sister do.
“There must be something you came here hoping to do,” Noah answers eventually. “Even if you’ve stopped hoping for that. You know you can tell me, whatever’s going on. You came to Ketterbridge looking like a man on a mission. You got a team for that mission sitting right here, if you want it.”
Gage stares at him, his eyes once again growing warm with immense appreciation.
“Certainly feel sure of it now. But it’s not about that, man. It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s just… like I said, it’s not that simple. There’s – I can’t.” He lapses into silence for a moment, struggling with himself, then finishes - “But as for what I’m doing here… just trying to look out for Noelle.”
“Me, too,” Noah answers, his exhausted voice full of earnestness. “That’s all I’m trying to do, too.”
“I know.” Gage smiles tiredly at him. “I kind of wonder if – maybe she knows that, too. Even if shit got messed up between you two. Like, maybe that’s why she came back to Ketterbridge right now, even if she doesn’t realize it.”
Noah sits back, thrown all the way off, then blinks harder as Gage adds - “You have no idea, the relief that hit me when she wrote that she was coming here to see you.”
Noah sits perfectly still for a few seconds, then leans forward desperately. “But I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on. Can’t you just tell me?”
Gage hesitates, taking a deep breath. A flash of desperation goes through his eyes, too, and for a split second I can see just how badly he’d like to answer.
But he shakes his head.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I can’t. Have to handle this one on my own.”
Noah sits back, then nods slowly, letting out a long breath. “If you change your mind.”
“I’ll let you know,” Gage promises.
He’s beginning to look wretchedly exhausted, and I’m sure the rest of us are, too. I can barely hold myself upright. Aiden takes a look at all of us drooping over the table, and begins stacking up our plates, gathering torn-open sugar packets. Noah rubs his eyes, then slowly starts to help him.
“Feels good to know that I would’ve had your approval, though,” Gage adds sleepily, making Noah pause to look at him. “Had things turned out differently. That’s so nice. It’s so nice to know, anyways.”
Noah just stares at him, but Gage is too tired to really notice. His eyes flutter open again as Aiden gently slaps his shoulder.
“Let’s go pay. And maybe get you something to take home, Gage, because I think you’re gonna want more food later.”
“Should probably get something for Raj and Mel, too,” Noah puts in.
Aiden nods in agreement. “And we’ll get Jamie a piece of-”
“Oh, Aiden – will you get me a piece of cheesecake to go?”
Aiden kisses my temple in answer, then leads Gage over to the counter. I reflexively finish stacking up our plates, looking at Noah with searching eyes. His expression right now is – complicated. His fingertips keep messing with his lip piercing, and he’s staring blankly down at the pale yellow tabletop.
I know he’s crestfallen and anxious. With confronting Logan not on the table, and now the certainty that we’ll get no more information from Gage… that pretty much leaves one option if he wants to take an active hand in this.
“Why was she up on the roof?” I ask tentatively, after a moment.
Noah rubs his eyes again, not looking at me. “I don’t know. Guess… that’s where me and her used to go hang out, when shit got overwhelming. To talk things through.”
I stare at Noah in surprise, then look up as Aiden and Gage come back to our table.
“Ready to go?” Aiden murmurs.
I cuddle up close to him as we walk across the cold, tiny parking lot. All of us are quiet now. Gage is distant, lapsed into his thoughts. Noah is the same way.
On the drive back, Gage abruptly breaks the silence with: “Hey Noah, does Noelle keep her really old drawings? Ones she did, like – years back?”
“Think some of them, yeah. Why?”
“Just wondered,” Gage answers, after a moment of hesitation. “I remembered her drawing a lot of pictures that summer we all met.”
“Oh, yeah… those might be around somewhere.” Noah taps his thumb on the wheel, nibbling his pierced lip as he drives. “Maybe I should try to find them and give them to her. See if they don’t get her inspired for her proposal.”
Gage nods encouragingly. “Yeah, maybe.”
He leaves the conversation there, so after a moment I automatically step in to fill the silence.
“How’s Macy, Gage?”
“Oh, she’s good. Filming something called Make It Hurt.”
“Okay,” I manage unsteadily. “How’d her date go with that guy?”
Gage breathes out a laugh. “Neither of them would break and be the sub, so it ended early. Deadlocked.”
I let out a dismayed laugh. “Oh, no!”
“Yeah, she said she told him to beg for it or she would leave him there and go home, and she ended up having to do just that, because he wouldn’t.” Gage lets out a soft snicker. “She’s pretty worked up about it. Not used to having her commands refused. I think she was sitting on some naked guy’s back like a chair while she was video chatting with me, so, you know. What does that tell you?”
“Certainly – it certainly tells me something,” I stammer.
“What?” Noah laughs weakly. “What the fuck are we talking about?”
“I’d rather not explain.”
“I’ll explain later,” Gage yawns, resting his temple against the back window of the car. “When I’m more awake.”
All of us are too sleepy to say much more than that.
A very dazed-looking Raj opens the door of the house when my car pulls up outside. I can tell even before he comes staggering out to meet us that he’s free of the pollen effects, and now feeling the pollen after effects. He can barely drag himself to his truck, which he leans against heavily.
“Dude, what happened to us-?” he begins, then stops himself, gathering that Noah is warning him off with his eyes. He drags a hand over his wildly tumbled curls, then looks at Gage. “You alright, Gage?”
“Oh, sure, and we brought a bag of pastries,” Gage answers, holding up the food from the diner.
Raj lets out a groan of relief, looking like he could collapse onto Gage with gratitude.
“We have to go get Niki from Mel’s mom,” he mumbles to Noah, through an enormous bite of a sticky bun.
“Not yet we don’t, man. Sun hasn’t even come up yet, look at the time.”
Raj looks at the sky instead, and sees his point. “Then let’s eat all this and instantly collapse back into bed?”
Noah breathes out an exhausted laugh. “There we go.”
I watch Noah, Raj, and Gage head towards the house, all three leaning against each other for support. Thankfully Gage is too worn out to think it’s weird that Raj is also up at this hour, or to notice that we’re all just as knocked out from tonight as he is. If anything, he strikes me as a little more at ease than he was before.
Maybe the assurance of hearing outright that Noah is in his corner.
Aiden and I drive down to the Ghost Office, and arrive just as dawn blossoms fully into the sky. We go down together to the river, which is mirrored with peachy sunlight. Very carefully, covering our faces, we tip out the bag of ruby tree blossoms and let them tumble into the water. The soft red petals float for a moment, then sink deeply into the gentle current.
Aiden drops his gaze to me in the rosy dawn light, fixing me with his sweet, disarming smile. “There we go. All better now, Linden.”
“All better,” I agree, lost in his sleepy ocean eyes.
It’s wild, what’s happening in my heart as I accept his hand and follow him back to the car. Who even needs passion flowers, with Aiden Callahan around?
~~~~
There’s no way to know if Ralph’s late-night tear down the highway with ruby tree pollen streaming out through the open windows had any sort of effect. What Aiden is now jokingly calling ‘the night of the flowers’ does have some noticeable repercussions, though. The first met us when I finally thought to look at my phone, and found that Ralph had sent me a text not long after he hung up on us.
Okay what is going on something must have happened to me. I was just thinking about the first night that me and Aiden and Noah hung out and I had to pull over because I started crying. Wtf did you guys do to me? I know this was you. This is cupcake shit and I’m MAD. Half a mind to stomp your ass when I get back
“If you had listened to me on the phone!” I sputtered indignantly, typing out loud.
“He said that?” Aiden rasped waveringly, having breathed in a little more pollen while throwing out the bag the flowers had been in. “Shit, Jamie, don’t talk about that night right now! I can’t think about that right now!”
Roger and Luca seemingly have no questions about what happened to them, nor do Floyd and Spencer. Ripley’s response to finding out what happened was to instantly beg for more of the flowers, then groan with horror upon being informed that they’ve all been disposed of.
“It’s for your own safety,” Aiden told him firmly, observing his extremely haggard, exhausted appearance, which stood in sharp contrast to the dreamy expression on his face. “For Alix’s, too.”
Kent is equally mad about the flowers being thrown away. I spend a good deal of my next shift listening to him inform me that I’m gonna get my ass beaten all through the whole town if I don’t come up with some more for him immediately. A threat I did not expect to also receive from Melanie in slightly different words, but here we are.
The fortunate news is that I have no power to influence the ruby tree so directly. Having opened into a stunning array, giving us masses and masses of lovely passion flowers, it’s quietly folded back into itself. No signs of new buds. I almost feel like it’s resting, as if now it feels content to settle down for autumn.
Thank god, because we can’t cope with another harvest of those flowers at the moment. I’m not sure the town can. I think maybe a lot of pollen blew out of Ralph’s car before he ever even hit the highway, because the day after there was an unusually high number of people turning up late for work, rumpled, exhausted, and particularly cheerful. The barista at Mugshot was still fumbling to get the open sign flipped when I got there. The flower delivery guy arrived twenty minutes late with his shirt buttoned up wrong, and remarked several times what a gorgeous day it was. And Gabby straight-up called out of work rather than try to pull herself together and go in.
After some discussion, we elected not to tell Aunt Sarah what happened. She didn’t seem in search of an explanation, and as neither me nor Aiden wanted to be the one to provide it, we left it alone. Besides, the only effect of the night I could see on her was that she was quite glowingly warm and smiling the next day when I stopped by her house for a quick cup of tea.
The only one who seems to be facing some lengthy, lasting effects from the entire thing is Noelle.
Every time I’ve seen her in the days since the incident with the flowers, she’s been in one of two moods. The first one darkens the grey of her eyes with uncertainty and confusion, gets her all quiet and distracted and fidgety. Puts her on edge, too, making her startle and jolt at the sound of her name. If anyone notices, she explains it away with feeling tired, or perks up quickly and pulls a smile back onto her face.
The second mood usually comes when she’s having fun with Noah or Gage, or both. Then she laughs and relaxes, rises to excellent spirits, and seems to forget about everything for a while.
Her good moods are brighter than ever, more full of laughter and ease the more time she spends here with Noah and Gage and without Logan. But her low moods – which seem to come for her whenever she’s not fully in a great mood – have gotten more and more all-consuming.
She’s making one hell of an effort not to show it, putting in extra work to make sure it doesn’t come to Gage’s attention. But there are two people she can’t get it past.
“Emotional Kingda Ka,” I murmur sympathetically to Noah.
He glances worriedly across the workshop at Noelle. She’s taken to doing her drawing here, a welcome development which all of us are happy about. It’s nice to have her around, even if it means the occasional sharp scold.
At the moment she’s paused with her pen on her tablet to stare out of the window. The anxious, bewildered, lost expression has snuck back into her eyes.
Noah stares hard at her, then drops his gaze back to the tangle of wires in his hands.
“I don’t care what Gage is telling himself,” he growls softly, laying the wires out into careful lines. “He hasn’t given up on Noelle. He might think he has, but he hasn’t.”
I lift my eyebrows in surprise. “How do you figure that?”
“Because, Jamie, if you want a girl that bad, then realizing she definitely doesn’t want you back, that she definitely prefers your brother, that’s – it’s more than enough to make a man lose all hope, alright? Gage doesn’t strike me as a man without hope.”
That’s… completely true. I look at Noah thoughtfully, giving him a slow nod of agreement.
“And he shouldn’t give up,” he adds quietly, reaching for something from his toolbox. “You heard what Noey said about what the flowers smelled like to her.”
“Yeah, but unfortunately she doesn’t know what that means, and we can’t tell her,” I murmur back, resting my palms on the edge of the big terracotta pot I’ve been working with. “Things are probably much less clear to her than they are to us. We’re a step back, where we can see, but she’s right in the middle of it. I bet she’s not sure what to think, right now.”
“Don’t try to guilt trip me into talking to her about it, Jamie.”
“What-?” I sit back on my ankles to stare at him, a little hurt. “No, I wasn’t! You know I wouldn’t do that!”
Noah winces, catching my expression, then lets out a heavy sigh.
“Sorry.” He keeps his eyes on his work, but gives my arm a quick, apologetic brace. “I know, I’m just – I’m stressed out, myself. Don’t listen to me. Matter of fact I’m amazed you’re not sick of listening to me complain. Haven’t been in the best of moods, lately.”
My eyes soften. I make sure to fix him with a look of forgiveness before I turn back to the fern I was potting.
“It’s okay. I understand. Emotional Kingda Ka all around.” I steal a look at him, then begin tentatively, “Can I just ask-?”
“Here we go,” he sighs.
“-why you’re this against talking to Noelle about it? I know you’re afraid it’ll bring up old stuff you haven’t worked out, but… maybe that would be a good thing? Because then you would both know where you stand, and that might make it easier to talk about important stuff.”
Noah presses a button on the slender electrician’s tool in his hand, which immediately gives him a little red light. He sets it aside and gets back to work on the wires.
I turn back to the fern I’m getting settled into its pot, resigning myself to getting no answer from him. I glance up in surprise when I turn out to be wrong.
“Jamie,” Noah murmurs, at a confidential volume, “I spent years calling and texting her and getting no answer. The only reason she gave me this chance is because of Melanie. I’m pretty sure this is my last chance. Right now things between us are – okay. Might not be exactly how things were before, but at least things are okay. Which they weren’t, until now.”
He passes the tool over the wires again, gets another red light, and sets it aside.
“Last thing I want to do is make her angry at me, and one thing that makes her get real mad, real fast, is other people acting like they know what’s best for her or bossing her around. She already spent a big chunk of time dealing with that when she was sick, from doctors, nurses, my parents – they needed to, I guess, but doesn’t change the fact that she hates it now.”
Huh… then it’s odd to me that she wants to be with someone like Logan.
“Kind of seems to me like she wants to be free to make her own choices,” I answer slowly, “But doesn’t trust herself to actually do it. Maybe she would, though, if you tell her what you think. Maybe she hates being bossed around, but I have a feeling she wishes she knew what you would say. She – went up onto the roof.”
Noah pauses, without looking at me. He sweeps the tool in his hand over what he’s working on again, and finally gets a green light.
He tucks the rearranged wires carefully back into the wall, thinking silently.
“Maybe,” he sighs, after a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe. For now, though, I just want us to have some fun. See if we can’t give her a day without worrying.”
“Oh, that’s a good idea! Do you have a plan?”
Noah sits back and flips on the light switch. The display window of the workshop lights up, cast with beautiful golden illumination. I smile in surprise, startled by how much that one touch changes everything. The lights Noah put in are doing a lot more work for the ambiance than I knew to expect from them.
“I do have a plan,” he answers, reaching up to adjust one of the lights until it falls more neatly on the surfboard display stand. “Just waiting to hear back on one last thing.”
I give Noah’s shoulder an encouraging slap, then get to my feet and stretch my arms over my head. The giant fern is planted comfortably in its pot, which means there’s too much soil in there for me to lift it without a significant struggle. Which means I need my Companion Plant.
I cross to the back door and let myself outside, where Ralph and Gage are sitting in the chairs from the little garden table. Ripley is standing at the table behind them, for some reason filling plastic Easter eggs with white paint.
As I watch, he seals the two he’s working on, then hands them off to Ralph and Gage. As soon as he does, they hurl them full-force at the wooden fence separating the workshop’s little garden area from the bookshop’s. Both eggs crack open in a burst of white paint, spattering the fence.
I spread my hands at Ripley, who’s already busy filling up more Easter eggs with paint. Based on how much white paint is already splattered all over the walls – and how Gage and Ralph accepted their eggs without even turning around to look at Ripley – they’ve been at this for a while.
“So this is the smacking sound I was hearing from inside? What the hell are you guys doing?”
Ripley grins at me, lifting his snapback to run a hand through his green curls. “I like how the fence looks with the paint splatter. I think it’ll look nice once the vines grow back in the spring. Ralph and Gage are helping me.”
“How did you figure out the effect you wanted has to be achieved – like this?” I ask helplessly, gesturing to the plastic Easter eggs.
Ripley shrugs his shoulders, pouring more paint. “I was just trying stuff.”
“Oh, sure.”
“Mel was organizing some of her party supply boxes, and she was like – would you have any use at the workshop for these old Easter eggs? And I was thinking, well, at the very least I can throw ‘em at things. So I did. The fence discovery was an unexpected benefit.”
“Why is this so satisfying?” Gage asks thoughtfully, throwing another Easter egg in tandem with Ralph. “It’s like egging someone’s house, but peaceful, and they want you to.”
“I could do this all day,” Ralph sighs happily.
I watch them both accept and throw another paint egg, then let out a laugh and put up my hands in surrender. “Fine, throw innocent Easter decorations around for as long as you want, but where did Aiden go? I need him to help me move the fern into the splash zone.”
“I’m worried that amount of water might flatten the fern, dude,” Ripley says, gathering up some cracked-open eggs from the tarp in front of the fence. “It’s a lot at once.”
“I picked the sturdiest, thirstiest fern I could find,” I explain, “And I’m gonna rig something like a camping shower so the fern doesn’t just get punched in the face with water blasts.”
“This is so many steps now instead of just fixing the shower,” Ralph reflects.
“No!” Ripley says quickly. “No, we’re not fixing it, it’s – good how it is. No need to change it, especially now that Jamie figured out a way to make it not a huge waste of water.”
I only barely manage to resist breaking into a wide grin, thinking of our visit here on the night the ruby tree blossomed.
Ripley begins filling up more Easter eggs, this time pouring the paint over the open ones in the egg carton to get it done faster. I bite my lip to suppress a laugh as Ralph and Gage both reach behind themselves without looking to accept their next paint eggs.
“Okay, um-” I begin, then pause briefly for the smack of the paint eggs against the fence. “I just wonder if this might lead to an accident of some kind?”
Ralph nods at the fence, arching an eyebrow at me. “It’s not exactly a difficult target to hit, Keane.”
Noelle steps outside to join us before I can answer. She’s holding a big glass in either hand, each full of some steaming hot drink.
“Aiden made this for everyone!” she says brightly, placing one in Ralph’s hand and one in Gage’s. They accept them from her without turning around. “It’s a spiced-”
Noelle breaks off as Ralph and Gage wind back in automatic, perfect tandem, then hurl the glasses at the fence, where they shatter into pieces.
There’s a brief silence.
“Oh.” Gage stares at the broken glass and pools of spilled drinks, caught by surprise. “That wasn’t an egg.”
“No, guess not,” Ralph agrees, a sheepish blush coloring his cheeks.
“What?” Noelle asks weakly, her shocked eyes watching steam rise up from the fence into the autumn air. She bursts out laughing, tilting her head back and pinching the bridge of her nose. “Gage! What is wrong with you – and Ralph!”
Ralph springs to his feet, attempts to flee before Noelle can level her focus on him. Unfortunately the door is blocked by Aiden, who’s standing there holding two more drinks in his hands. From the incredulous expression on his face, and from the enormous grin on Noah’s, they both saw what happened.
“On the plus side,” Noah offers brightly, “Smells great out here now. Like that stuff you made, Aiden. What is it, chai?”
“It’s thrown all over a fence, now, that’s what it is,” Aiden sighs. He crosses over to Gage and Ralph, very carefully and sternly hands them replacement drinks, then looks at the fence. “Should I bother asking why you two just smashed the nice hot drinks I made you right onto the art Ripley’s working on?”
“Worth it,” Ripley puts in, still trembling with laughter. “We can always smash more eggs, anyways. Put it back how it was.”
“Oh, what a relief,” Aiden answers, completely lost.
I take a long sip of the drink Noah hands me, savoring the warmth of it against the crisp, cold air. Noticing that Noah is suddenly in a good mood. I think it’s the sight of Noelle laughing and delivering a long reprimand to Gage, who bows his head in meek apology, his brown and green eyes twinkling.
“Afraid I thought it was an egg,” he explains apologetically, once Noelle’s rush of French comes to a stop with a sharp question.
She bites her lip, then breaks and starts laughing again.
Smiling affectionately, Noah holds up his phone. “Well, I’ve got some good news that might cancel out the random vandalism of Ripley’s art and Aiden’s drinks. I just heard from Raj, and we’re all good.”
Noelle’s brows draw together in confusion. “Good on what?”
“Raj’s buddy Tim has a house basically out in the middle of nowhere, and he agreed to let us spend the weekend there if we’ll fix up some maintenance issue he’s having. Perfect spot for some free-for-all paintball, and some chilling by a lake.” Noah points a finger directly into Noelle’s face. “You’re coming with us, obviously-”
“I won’t be playing paintball,” Noelle tells him, with dignity. And then, with undeniable excitement – “Chilling by a lake sounds nice, though.”
“Mhm, and we’ll have Aiden and Raj cook us some shockingly hot wings, just like, the hottest wings imaginable-”
“Yes.”
“-and we’ll bring some good weed and good music-”
Noelle is starting to nod in agreement. “Yes, yes!”
“-and I’ll probably snipe you with a paintball at some point or another.”
“No.”
“We’ll see.”
Noelle shakes her head at him indignantly, but then lets out a warm laugh. “Alright, sure. I’m down.”
Noah beams at her, then turns to Gage. “My guy. You’re coming with us, right?”
“Oh, sure,” Gage says, smiling appreciatively. “Probably won’t play any paintball, but the wings are sorely tempting.”
“Scared,” Noah accuses him.
“No,” Gage says solemnly, “It’s just that my body is my instrument. I only let it get bruised up on camera.”
He grins when Noelle slaps his shoulder. Grinning victoriously himself, Noah slips his phone back into his pocket, then turns around, hearing Raj come out from the workshop.
“D’you see my text, Nohea?” he calls eagerly, trotting over.
“Yes, and everyone is in!”
“He didn’t even ask us,” Ripley snickers, catching Ralph’s eye. “Guess it’s just assumed that we’re in?”
“Obviously,” Noah confirms.
“I’ll try playing some paintball,” Aiden says brightly. “Sounds fun. Think I’ve only done it once or twice.”
“Watch him absolutely embarrass us regardless,” Noah sighs, looking mournfully at Raj. “He’s gonna take us all out. While doing clapping push-ups, or something.”
“He is really good at every sport he tries,” Raj says, with some alarm. And then, with a little more: “Why’s the fence steaming, by the way? And why is there a bunch of broken glass out here?”
“Gage and Ralph were smashing things,” Noelle answers promptly, to a sputter of protest from Ralph. “And wasting chai.”
“Wasting chai!” Raj repeats, catching Ralph’s eye reprovingly.
“Okay, I’m going inside to make a shopping list,” I inform the group. “Aiden will want to make more than just wings. The flying paint and chai and glasses and Easter eggs don’t make this the ideal place to get organized.”
“Sounds like I missed a lot,” Raj comments, surprised. “I wasn’t at the gas station that long, was I?”
I slip back into the workshop, leaving the others outside to attempt an explanation. Aiden follows me inside, quiet and distracted. He’s already mentally expanding the menu, I can tell.
Without disturbing him, I gently direct him towards the fern. He absent-mindedly scoops the pot up into his arms and brings it over to its new place in the hurricane shower splash zone.
Noah also follows us in, and confidentially catches my arm. I blink at him in surprise as he leads me aside, with a very serious expression on his face. He runs a hand over his mouth, then leans in closer to say:
“So, about those flowers-”
“Oh, my god!” I let out a burst of incredulous laughter, widening my eyes at him. “You’re all hopeless!”
“Can you blame us, dude?” Noah groans imploringly. “You expect us to just forget your – Jamie’s Magic Flower of Incredible Staying Power?”
“Wow, we are not calling it that, and you can’t have any! There’s no more flowers, no more!” I shove him at the door, laughing in disbelief. “Stay focused, dumb one! You’ve got a weekend getaway to plan!”
Grinning enthusiastically at the thought, Noah slips back outside. Noelle comes in around him and hurries directly over to her tablet.
“I’ve got to get some work done if I’m going to be finished up by this weekend!” she tells us, pulling over a stool to sit on and taking a sip of her coffee.
“Making progress on your proposal?” I ask, coming over to join her.
“No, just standard-issue work things today. But here, if you want to see…”
She pulls up a folder entitled Encyclopedia Project Version 2, then hands me the tablet so I can see the drawings. I start scrolling through, angling the tablet so Aiden can see when he comes to look over my shoulder.
Noelle picked several different definitions, people, and concepts to illustrate, probably to demonstrate that she’s got a wide range for all the entries. There are drawings of specific plants, some simple objects, some complex ones, simple portraits of historical figures. They’re all very nice, clear and straightforward.
Aiden and I look through them with appreciative eyes. Noelle, who’s rummaging around in her backpack for something, calls – “If you want you can look at my original version, too. Just go back a folder.”
I pull up the folder named Version 1, and pause in surprise.
This must be the proposal Noelle worked on before Logan suggested she throw it all out and start over. This one captures my attention much more right away.
It’s mostly the same subjects she did in the newer version, but now they’re heavily, boldly stylized. Like the board that she painted for the workshop, with the skeleton smoking and relaxing at the desert oasis. The art on her board made me think of some cool underground comic book, and at first glimpse that’s what these drawings remind me of, too. As if the items and people were taken from that world.
Because they’re in Noelle’s style, I realize abruptly. The other version isn’t.
This style makes me want to know everything about the subject in question. Maybe because Noelle framed each item in a neat box, which has the effect of making the objects look like a collectible in a video game, the people like characters you might meet. With broader topics Noelle gave herself more freedom. I especially like the entry labeled Tattooing, which shows a heavily tattooed woman adding ink to another heavily tattooed woman, a faint smile on her face.
Aiden catches my eye, silently telling me we’re both thinking the same thing. The new version is nice, but this one is so much more interesting, so different.
I can see why someone completely focused on professional polish would tell Noelle to go the opposite way, but – this art is cool enough to make a person curiously thumb their way through an entire encyclopedia. Noelle also said that the client liked her style, and this is her style. The other drawings may be pretty, but there’s nothing in them to say that Noelle Raunier was the artist.
“These are all so good,” I tell Noelle, looking up hesitantly. “Have you – have you made your mind all the way up about which version to submit?”
“Oh, I already submitted it. This morning. I submitted the professional version.” A faint trace of uneasiness comes into her voice. “That’s what I said I was going to do, so… yeah. Just have to wait to hear back, now.”
My heart sinks, but I nod encouragingly. “Good luck, then!”
“Thanks!”
I drop my eyes regretfully to her tablet for one last look at the drawings, then back out of the folder. I’m about to set the tablet down on the work table, but Aiden suddenly puts his hand on my back.
He reaches around me and silently points to the folder I haven’t opened, which is called Sketchpad. There’s a drawing saved as the most recent, and -
It’s a portrait of Gage. Asleep on the couch at Nik’s house, exhausted in the firelight, his hand curled by his cheek.
I do like every drawing of Noelle’s that I’ve seen, but this one is far and away the best. There are so many details, although somehow she didn’t trade away her signature bold style for it. It’s all just infinitely more complex, more subtle, more expressive than any other artwork I’ve seen from her. I can feel and see the emotion in every line. It also has color, that bright, bold porcelain blue making up all the shadows and little touches.
The sketchpad shows when it was most recently in use, which tells me just when this portrait was lovingly, feverishly drawn.
Roughly twenty minutes before we pulled up and found Noelle pacing on the roof.
Makes sense. That night was passion unleashed, and it shows in the artwork Noelle created.
I hastily darken the tablet and hand it over to her as she straightens up from her backpack.
“Get excited for this weekend, Noelle,” Aiden rumbles, jotting down a grocery list on a scrap of sketching paper. “I’m gonna cook some amazing food to comfort the guys after they inevitably hurt themselves during paintball.”
Noelle lets out a warm laugh, half a groan. “I’m sure Noah thinks he’s going to get me to play. He won’t, though. I’m not secretly ten years old, unlike all of you.”
“We’ll see,” laughs an affectionate voice from the doorway.
Noelle looks across the workshop, then blushes indignantly, scowling at Gage’s smiling face.
“I won’t!” she insists, pointing her pen at him. “Wait and see!”
“Alright,” Gage laughs fondly. “I will.”
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