Page 80 of River
CHAPTER 22
Fleur’s Farm
River
After Noah told me that it would take an apology in person for him to forgive me, I made up my mind. I would go to Ireland and face him.
His words that he didn’t like me had made me cry.
Sitting in that fancy restaurant with Jack yesterday had hammered home that my priorities had changed.ThatIhad changed.
It had taken me way too long to admit how important Noah was to me, but last night when I’d apologized to him over texts, I’d meant it. The thought that he didn’t like me at all was unbearable.
It hadn’t been hard to find Fleur’s address. She had a website that described the work she did on her farm. It wasn’t a traditional farm but a teaching farm as she called it. Classes of local students came to learn about animal awareness, and Fleur taught courses on animal communication. On her website, there was a large section asking for donations to fund her work for wildlife preservation and the work she did at the farm.
Apparently, she had a large fan group because her blog posts had thousands of comments.
The part about her website that I liked the least was the picture of Fleur. When Noah had talked about her, it’d been with such admiration, and for some reason, I’d pictured her as a woman in her fifties or sixties. In her picture, she didn’t look to be more than thirty and so naturally beautiful that it made me nervous.
The two of them already shared a love for animals, and now they were living together. It bothered me, and my conversation with Maximum about jealousy came back to me.
Of all the men in the world, Noah was the one I wanted to like me the most. If I had to take a plane and drive for hours to make him understand that I genuinely regretted running from his bed, then I would do so.
Still, the closer I got to Fleur’s Farm, the more I questioned whether my decision to come had been wise.
What if Noah told me to bugger off? He had warned me that he was angry with me, and I’d never been good with confrontations.
The roads were narrow in this part of the country, and more than once, I had to pull to the side to let another car pass me.
What was supposed to be a two-and-a-half-hour drive turned longer because I got stuck for twenty minutes behind a farmer and his herd of sheep walking from one pasture to another. It was the way of rural Ireland, and there was nothing to do but put on some music and drum on my steering wheel to the beat.
When I finally arrived at Fleur’s Farm, I stopped my car and took some steadying deep breaths. My biggest fear was rejection. I’d seen my mother expelled from our group in the most heartbreaking way. As if that traumatic memory wasn’t bad enough, her many suicide attempts had deep-rooted my fear of rejection. The thought of approaching Noah only to have him refuse to even talk to me made bile rise in my throat. The flee or fight response set in, and thinking that no one had seen me yet, I backed up.
As I sped away from the farm, my heart was beating as if I were being chased by a monster. I couldn’t do it! I couldn’t confront my fear of being found not good enough. What had I been thinking?
Tears fell down my cheeks as I slammed my hand on the steering wheel.
Why do you have to be such a coward?
With tears soon blinding me, I pulled the rental car over and had a complete mental breakdown. I sobbed as emotions came rushing out, accompanied by memories of my mother sleeping in a cold and empty room—her desperation to be forgiven and loved by Conor and his brutal rejection of her that had destroyed my mother and scarred my young soul.
Why was I here? Why did I think that any man could help erase the mistrust that had been ingrained in me? So what if Noah didn’t like me? I’d warned him I was broken and had issues.
My shoulders bobbed up and down as I held my face in my hands and sobbed.
Once the worst cries subsided, I curled up in my seat and sat in silence. Deep thoughts consumed me as I looked out the window to see the winter landscape. Stone walls separated the fields, and it occurred to me that the workers who’d performed the tedious and back-breaking work of placing thousands of stones in those walls would have been left with their own thoughts for hours on end. I hoped for them they’d had merrier thoughts than mine.
The car beeped as I opened the door and stepped outside. It was cold and windy when I walked the ten steps to the closest stone wall and placed my hand on top of it. It was an odd thing to do, but as I stood with the wind in my face and my hand on that wall, I took calming breaths to clear my mind.
As if the stones had a message for me, words formed in my head.
This wall was built with patience, one stone at a time.And right there was my answer. If I wanted to repair what I’d broken between Noah and me, I needed to be willing to carry the heavy weight and take one step at a time.
Walking back to the car, I got in and popped down the sun visor to check how I looked in the mirror.
My make-up was smeared, and my hair was tousled from the wind.
I took a moment to do a bit of damage control, and then I turned the car around to go back to the farm and find Noah.
