Page 67 of When We Were Young
“Of course.” Noah turned in his chair so he was facing her. “You sound serious.”
“I was just thinking, how God works all things to the good for those who love Him.”
“My favorite new Bible verse.” Noah smiled. “Explain.”
“Well, no one would’ve wanted you to get those concussions. I watched them both happen and”—she met his eyes—“honestly I’ve never been more scared in my life.” She looked up at the sky.
“Me, too.” He wasn’t being cavalier. “And the good part is?”
Her smile warmed the night. “The good part is this. That we’re here. That we’re staying in Bloomington.” Sincerity shone in her eyes. “I’m sorry about the NFL, Noah. You wanted it so much.”
“I did.” His voice held the weight of the situation. He leaned back on his hands. “But I want you more. It was my decision.”
“I keep thinking how different life would be if you were in San Diego now.” Her tone rang with hesitancy. “I told you I’d take Clara to San Diego and I would’ve. With all my heart I would’ve done my best to get her out there and try to make her fall in love with California.” She shook her head. “But I don’t think it would’ve worked.”
Noah thought about that for a long moment. “I know. Clara wants to be here.”
“She does.” Emily smiled again, a tender look that told him she would always understand the cost Noah had paid to walk away from football and be here with her. To not take the chance with another head injury. “So that’s what I’ve been thinking about. How God works everything out to the good.”
Their love story kept playing through Noah’s mind, the days of their engagement and as they headed into the summer and their fall wedding. By then their social media platforms were blowing up. The same magazines and news outlets that had reported on Noah’s retirement from football covered the explosion of their numbers on Facebook and Twitter. Noah had added an account on Instagram, and that became crazy successful, too.
Everyone wanted a piece of them, the chance to bask in their love so that just maybe a bit of it might rub off. Emily didn’t mind back then. In fact, on rainy nights they would sit on the sofa and read the comments left by their followers.
It wasn’t long before a famous jeans brand was willing to pay them $50,000 a year if Noah would talk about their jeans once a month. Wear them once a week.
How hard would that be?
Sponsored posts, they were called. And after the jeans they were contacted by other advertisers. Rawlings wanted him to talk about their foam footballs and Sherwin-Williams painted the home where Emily and Clara had grown up. A free paint job and $100,000 for the year—all for the mention of Sherwin-Williams whenever they posted a picture in front of the house.
And on it went.
When their wedding came, a national men’s clothing company provided free suits for Noah and the groomsmen—plus enough cash for an extravagant honeymoon. All for a mention and a photo. Noah went along with it easily. They were a light in a dark world. An example. Role models for young people.
Anyway, none of that held even a fraction of his attention when their wedding day finally came. Noah knew he could face consequences for his concussions later in life. He was at higher risk for losing his memory, for one thing. Headaches would be a given.
But even if he forgot everything else, he would remember forever the way Emily looked when she walked down the aisle toward him that day. Just her and the glow of the Holy Spirit around her.
She was a gift from God. The greatest blessing the Lord would ever give him. To think, out of all the guys in the world, Emily Andrews had chosen him.
They honeymooned for a few nights in a bed-and-breakfast and spent the rest of the week in New York City in the Ritz-Carlton on Park Avenue. Best suite in the house. Compliments of the manager, a woman who turned out to be a follower of theirs.
Every morning Noah woke up under those luxurious Ritz-Carlton sheets and looked over at Emily, sleeping like a princess beside him, her blond hair spilling across the pillow. And every morning he prayed the same thing.Lord, I don’t deserve her. Help me to cherish her. Every day for the rest of my life.
When they got home, after the posts about the Ritz and other moments that highlighted their honeymoon, Noah returned to his job as a paramedic at the Bloomington Fire Department.
By then he worked twenty hours a week at the station, and spent the rest of his time on social media. It was sometime that year that a friend of his commented on their platform.
“Man, you’re Internet famous.” He chuckled. “Never saw that coming.”
Internet famous. It was a term Noah hadn’t heard before. But it made sense. By then, Noah was posting two or three times a day, enjoying it more all the time.
One night they were out to dinner with Clara, and Emily looked distant. Distracted, even. Noah reached for her hand. “You okay?”
“Sure.” She smiled, but still she didn’t seem like herself. “It’s just... you posted about my burned cookies.” She lifted her shoulders and searched his eyes. “Why, Noah? Can’t some things be just for us?”
He apologized and tried to register her words as a warning. “I’ll be more careful.”
And he was. But still sometimes Emily thought his posts went too far. It was one thing to share about their wedding and where they went on their honeymoon. But she didn’t want people knowing about her fears or failures. Some things had to be just for them.
