Page 28 of When We Were Young
“Why do you say that?” He leaned back, an easy grin at the corners of his mouth.
Emily felt herself relax. Noah seemed to have an uncanny ability to read her, to tell that she was playing with him a little. “You mean... because I’m the starting quarterback?”
“No.” She heard the teasing in her voice. “Because you care enough to skip caffeine.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I wish that’s all it took.”
She pointed to a bruise on his forearm. “Like that, you mean?”
“Right.” He pushed back his shirtsleeve to reveal another two black and blue areas. “It’s a commitment.”
“So why do it, Mr. Rescuer?” She was serious now, though the air between them was still easy. “You love it that much?”
“I do.” He angled his head, like he was trying to see deeper into her heart. “Surely there must be something you love that much. Or someone.”
“Touché.” She returned the look, staring into his eyes. Who was Noah Carter and why did he have such a pull on her?
“Okay.” He raised his eyebrows. “Maybe I’ll hear about that later.” Another smile. “As for me, yes, I do love the game. Since I was two.” He shrugged. “Now I’m shooting for the stars. Trying for the next level.”
The next level. Emily blinked a few times. “Pro football?”
He laughed. “You’re not a fan, are you?”
“Well.” She wrinkled her nose. “Not really. Sorry.” Football had been her mom’s sport. Something she loved to watch. Emily had never gotten into it. “I guess I never had time to understand the game. Tight pants. Big shoulders. Huge helmets. Everyone crashing into each other.”
“Wow.” He raised his brow, his eyes still teasing her. “Sounds barbaric.”
“Isn’t it?” Her laugh caught her by surprise. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed a moment like this with someone other than Clara.
“Okay, yeah. You’re right.” Noah angled his head. “Definitely barbaric. I’ll give you that.”
They both laughed then, like they’d known each other all their lives. And in slight shifts and bits, Emily felt the walls around her heart and soul start to wobble. The time with Noah had been like water to her very existence. Like God had been showing her what she’d been missing by never letting anyone new into her life.
While she and Noah talked, Emily reminded herself that she absolutely loved being with Clara. She would choose her sister every day. But she’d never had a date like this. Not ever.
She told him general details about her life. How she’d always lived in Bloomington and how Clara was everything to her. But no matter how charming Noah was, Emily didn’t mention Clara’s disability, didn’t feel the need to talk about it. Didn’t tell him about her mother, either. Noah asked questions as she talked, and Emily’s answers came easily. She was on a dance scholarship. No she wasn’t into the Greek life and no she didn’t have a boyfriend. Her only reason for being there was to get a degree.
So I can take care of Clara forever.
Halfway through her coffee, Emily sat back and set her cup down. “So what about you, Noah Carter? Where are you from?”
“Nashville.” His eyes sparkled. “Can’t carry a tune in a bucket, though.”
“I was going to ask.” She giggled. “Now that I think about it, you do seem like a country western kinda guy. Big hat. Boots.”
“I do?” It took him a minute to figure out she was kidding. When he did he chuckled and pointed at her. “I like you, Emily Andrews. I think we’re going to be good friends.”
And that’s exactly what happened.
Especially after the scene that played out the next evening.
Emily had Clara with her and like usual, after dance practice the two walked to the cafeteria. Same seat. Same time. Karl nodded at Emily as he walked by, but he didn’t stop. Emily smiled to herself. Noah had put an end to that. But Clara noticed the exchange. The slightly nervous way Emily looked at her salad plate.
People usually took Clara for being more mentally slow than she really was. Because of her crutches and the crooked way she moved, because she had trouble forming words or sentences, or because her mouth hung at an unnatural angle, even when she smiled.
But Clara wasn’t as slow as people thought. The truth was, most details didn’t get by her. Like when their dad left home or when their mother didn’t come back from Texas.
Clara understood. She cried and felt and hurt and laughed. The difference was, Clara had a high pain tolerance. Physical pain, yes. But emotional, too. When the arrows of life hit Emily, they often took up residence in her soul, where they festered and stung for months or years. Forever, sometimes. Not so with Clara. The arrows hit her and she felt them. But then she let the arrows fall away. As if the sunshine of a new morning was more than enough to clean the slate.
