When in Rome(67)

Mission accomplished, I want to whisper loud enough for him to hear, but instead I stay quiet, and together we let the song wrap around us. An already perfect moment feels like a dream now. When the song ends, I look at Noah. “I love your grandma. I wish I could have met her.”

A real genuine smile splits across his face like the sun popping over the horizon at dawn, but he doesn’t say anything.

Noah pulls into a small parking lot that overlooks a dock, stretching out to a small scenic lake. There are trees lining the bank, making it feel secluded and intimate. We both get out of the truck, and he pulls two fishing poles and a tackle box from the back of his truck. Together we walk down the long dock until we end at the small platform. I remove my white canvas sneakers and sit down, dangling my legs over the side. It’s high enough up that my feet hover about a foot above the water. Noah sits beside me and our shoulders touch. My face flushes with an innocent pleasure I haven’t experienced in years.

The tips of Noah’s ears turn lightly pink—something that happens to him when he’s embarrassed, I’ve learned—and he scoots away. If there were a window between us, I think we both would have rolled it up slowly and dramatically. We’re acting as if we’ve never touched anyone of the opposite sex before. It’s absolutely ridiculous. And wonderful. And confusing. And incredible.

“What was she like?” I’m desperate for any glimpse of a picture he’ll paint for me, and also to break the tension between us.

“My grandma?” he asks as he pops open the tackle box and begins baiting his hook. I nod. “She was…tender and fiery at the same time. That woman loved to love on people. I swear no one made it out of her pie shop without a hug. Even strangers. It’s just the way she was.”

“What was her name?”

“Silvie Walker. Believe it or not, she and Mabel were best friends since their teenage years. Those two got into all kinds of trouble together. And since my grandad had already passed away by the time my grandma needed to take guardianship over me and my sisters, Mabel acted like our second parent in a lot of ways. I rarely went a day without seeing her.”

“Ah—that’s why Mabel loves you so much.”

“That’s why she bugs me so much.” He smirks, but I hear the tenderness in his voice. “I may have lost my parents, but I’ve been really lucky to be loved by so many people who feel like family to me and my sisters. It’s why I didn’t hesitate to come back when they needed me here.”

I open my mouth to ask why they needed him back here, but he continues talking before I can. “Speaking of names…” Once he gets his hook baited with a nasty-looking rubber worm, he sets his fishing pole down and turns his face to me. “I’ve been wondering how you chose your stage name.”

“Rae is my middle name.” I shrug lightly. “My mom used to call me Rae-Rae when I was little sometimes, and so it felt like a sweet choice for a stage name. And I thought having people refer to me as Rae instead of Amelia would help me have some separation between my private and professional life.”

“Did it?” he asks, and this is something about Noah that is so different from other people. Most people would hmm, nod, and then move on. But he wants to know the answer. Did it?

“No. In fact, Rae Rose just absorbed me. I feel like I haven’t been Amelia in so long. Except for you and your sisters, everyone just calls me Rae now. Even my mom. It’s…” I falter for polite words to describe what it feels like, so I settle with a basic childish idea instead. “I hate it. I feel so jumbled and unsure of who I am.”

“That must be hard,” Noah says without accusation or shock. He doesn’t even offer advice or throw a pile of shoulds on me. Doesn’t even seem to expect me to come to any conclusion right now. I just get to say what I feel, and if that’s not freedom, I don’t know what is.

“Mainly it’s the loneliness that makes it so hard. The second I became famous, everyone stopped seeing the real me. All they see is Rae Rose now and what she can do for them or give them. You know my mom used to be my best friend? Even she just sees me as a twenty-four-hour ATM now. It sucks. And the thing that’s so weird is I’m rarely ever alone, and yet I can be standing in a room full of hundreds of people that supposedly love me and feel completely isolated.”

“Do you feel lonely right now?”

Noah’s question punches me in the heart. “No.”

Everything would be so much easier if my answer were yes. Part of me wishes I could have come to this damn town and found my joy of music again without also finding something more.

“Good. I’m glad.” He sounds genuine. He is genuine. “And maybe after this time away, you’ll find your love for your career again.”

“That’s exactly what Mabel said.”

“And she’s never wrong. Or at least, that’s what she’ll lead you to believe.” He grins and turns his eyes to the tackle box. He pulls out a nasty, squirmy, wet worm that is 100 percent a bucket of cold water to the intimate mood. Good. We need it. “So do you want to bait your own hook?”

“Am I a wimp if I say no?”

“Definitely.”

I make a thinking face before answering. “I’m realizing I’m okay with that.”

“Suit yourself, but you’re missing out on all the fun.”