When in Rome(71)

There’s so much I want to say right now. Actually, I want to dive over this bench seat to wrap my arms around him and squeeze. But I know that’s not what Noah wants. He’s not mushy. And I think lavishing him with how wonderful he is would only annoy him. “I’m glad. It’s good she has you guys.” I look in his eyes with a tender smile, making sure to keep any “pity eyes” far, far away.

“If you want, I’d like for you to come in and meet her. But you have to know that she doesn’t always live in the present. And it’s better for her if we don’t correct her when she’s wrong about something. I try to jump into whatever place or time she’s at in that moment.”

“I’ll follow your lead,” I say, hoping to put him at ease and prove that he can trust me with her.

His smile is tense and he looks like he wants to give more directions and caveats, but he ends up opening the truck door and hopping out instead. I do the same and we walk side by side through the sliding doors of the facility. I wish I could hold his hand, but I keep mine clasped behind my back instead.

We stop at the front desk and Noah offers a nice smile to the woman in scrubs behind the desk. “Hi, Mary,” he says, picking up a pen from the counter and signing both our names on a visiting sheet. Noah and Amelia. Side by side. In his beautiful cursive. Briefly, I wonder if they’d notice if I stole this sheet on my way out to keep it as a memento for the rest of my life.

“Noah! I was wondering when you’d be by today.” Her eyes slip to me and widen. I probably should have worn Noah’s hat in here, but I completely forgot. “You have…a friend with you today,” she says, turning into a dazed zombie. I know this look. It’s the look of a fan, and I’m worried it’s going to immediately make things hard for Noah. He’ll regret bringing me, and the nice bubble of trust we’ve formed will pop. The end.

“I do,” he says softly, leaning a little over the counter and dropping his voice even lower. “But we’d appreciate it if you not say anything about her being here to anyone else. It wouldn’t be good for my grandma if there was a sudden mob of nursing staff in her room.”

He twinkles at Mary, and…huh. Would you look at that? It does the trick.

Mary turns her eyes back to Noah and her fandom dies away as quickly as it appeared. “Of course. Y’all go on in and see her. She’s in a great mood today and very alert.”

“That’s good to hear. Thank you, Mary.”

As Noah and I walk through the facility, he stops and talks to no less than twenty people. All the old ladies adore him. He leans down often so they can pat his cheek. He gives out hugs like candy on Halloween. He’s so soft here. Tender and loving to all these people who desperately need both those things. Noah is such a natural at caring for others. And it’s that realization that has my heart leaping off a high dive straight into the deep end of the feelings pool.

Noah and I finally make it to his grandma’s door, both steeped in the scents of at least twenty different perfumes. I laugh when I see that someone left a red lipstick stain on Noah’s cheek, and I wipe it off. He rolls his eyes lightly with amusement like he’d forgive these ladies anything.

“One time I had an eighty-year-old lady pinch my ass when I leaned over.”

I laugh and give an exaggerated look to the buns in question. “Can’t say I blame her. You’ve got a good ass back there.”

“Stop it.” He groans before knocking lightly on the door and then opens it. He gives me one quick glance over his shoulder and I see the hesitation in his eyes. He’s worried about showing me this part of his life. I smile and make little pinchers out of my fingers, angling them toward his butt to get him to keep moving. He grabs my wrist before my fingers can make contact with any cheekage, and then he slides his hand down to clasp with my fingers. I’m light-headed from the emotional connection. More intimate than that kiss in the lake somehow.

He pulls me with him inside the happy, sunlit room. We pass a wall of pictures, filled with Noah and his sisters at all stages of their lives. I want to linger and stare at each one, but Noah moves me toward the sweet little woman sitting in a chair, looking out a massive picture window toward the facility garden.

“Well, hi there, darlin’,” Noah says and the buttery soft tone of his voice has each of my bones melting into goo.

His grandma—Silvie—looks up at him and it’s clear she doesn’t quite know what to think at first but is trying to understand. She has short, white hair, curled in that adorable way that many older ladies like to style their hair, and has porcelain skin so thin it’s nearly translucent. But Silvie is not wearing a sweat suit. No way. It’s clear that this woman is every inch the southern belle she’s always been. A strand of beaded pearls lies around her slender neck, and she’s wearing a bright pink cardigan with nice black linen capris.

“Well, yes, hi…” she says kindly with only a soft furrow to her brow. It’s clear she has no idea who Noah is, and my heart squeezes for him.

He doesn’t wait for her to ask any questions. He pulls me up beside him and wraps his arm around me like I belong here with him. “I’m sorry I’m late for our usual lunch date,” he says with a sunshine smile. “I hope you don’t mind, but I brought an addition today. Mrs. Walker, this is my friend Amelia. Amelia, this is Silvie Walker. This lovely lady graciously has lunch with me a few times a week to keep me company.” I know he explains this for Silvie’s benefit rather than mine.