Page 34 of Rock the Cradle of Love
The moon shines brightly from just above the tree line, and the evening is quiet. His brain welcomes the reprieve from the normal sounds of his life. Traffic and television. The ice rink and the locker room. Emma—the soft burbling and the crying. And Taylor—loud and big and there.
Noah loves hockey and he loves his life, but with the quiet and in this solitude, he feels like he can finally wrap his mind around some of his more pressing concerns. Number one—caring for Emma and the house while playing hockey and fulfilling all his obligations that go along with it. Number two—his relationship with Taylor. It’s definitely an issue to ponder, but Noah’s not quite ready to delve into it. Relationships and sex are unknown to him and therefore baffling and complicated, so maybe once he’s got everything else figured out, he’ll have some brainpower available to sort through what happened and make sense of it.
The streetlamps cast a soft glow over the neighborhood. Cicadas buzz in the distance. The rumble of an old engine floats through the air and then goes quiet. A dog barks as Noah runs by, its aggression making the chain link fence jingle.
So, Emma, the condo, and hockey…
Although not every problem can be solved with money, several of Noah’s more basic requirements can be—a housekeeper can take care of the condo and probably grocery shop for him. Paying a babysitter while he works out would employ a teenager and allow him to maintain some sort of conditioning for the summer. His biggest need is a long term, nurturing, trustworthy caregiver for Emma. Despite what he’d said to his mom about men being able to care for children just as well as women—he wholeheartedly believes it—he’s almost positive he wants a woman nanny. The genders care for babies differently, not better or worse, just differently. Emma’s going to be surrounded by rough and rowdy hockey players, so he wants to counter that experience with a softer, gentler one. Maybe he needs to move. The nanny will have to be full time and need a room when Noah’s on road trips. He wants Emma to live in their home, not be dragged to someone else’s house half the time.
Noah hasn’t paid attention to where he’s running while his mind churned through the various options and is surprised to find himself turning onto Main Street. Bridgett’s Pizza and the Double Scoop Ice Cream Parlor are closed, as is everything, actually, except Hometown Diner. A glass of water sounds really good right now. He reduces his pace and goes around the town square once at a slow jog and then again at a walk to let his heart rate slow down properly.
The diner hasn’t changed much except to get a new paint job since he left home almost eight years ago now. He likes that some things have remained comfortable and familiar. The tablecloths are still red-checked and the booths still a dark green vinyl with gold glitter. Pictures from the town’s history cover every inch of wall space, from its founding in 1926 to the marching band’s U.I.L. win a couple of years ago, and everything in between. A dozen inches-thick photo albums, holding more photos, sit on a shelf near the cash register.
The scent of fries and burgers mingles with bacon and pancakes, and Noah inhales deeply, a sense of well-being filling him.
“As I live and breathe, if it isn’t our very own Noah Drinkwater.”
Noah looks up to find Ms. Wooster, who taught him geometry in the ninth grade, and Ms. Maple sitting in a booth at the other end of the diner. He smiles and waves at the ladies and heads their way. He marvels at how alike they look, blue eyes and glasses, short grey hair. Ms. Wooster’s is straight to Ms. Maple’s loose gray curls.
“You ladies are out kind of late,” he says. The clock above the hallway to the restrooms reads ten o’clock. A bowl with the dregs of a sundae and two spoons sits between them.
“We’re celebrating Momma’s birthday. She always took us out for sundaes to celebrate birthdays and we’ve carried on the tradition since her passing three years ago.”
“That’s a lovely way to remember your mom.” He swipes a hand across his forehead, and it comes away damp. He wipes his hand along his stomach. “I suppose I should think about starting some traditions, huh?”
With a nod, Ms. Maple calls, “Donna Lynn, bring this young man some water, would you?”
“Thanks,” he says.
“So what are you doing out and about so late? Where’s that sweet little blessing of yours?”
“She’s in bed at Mom’s house. I went out for a jog to stretch my legs and clear my head.”
Donna Lynn, wearing a shy smile and bright spots of color on her cheeks, approaches with a glass of ice water.
“Much obliged.” Noah takes the cup, drains it, and hands it back to Donna Lynn.
“Would you like some more?” she asks, flush deepening.
“No, thank you.”
She heads back to the counter and some sort of textbook.
Ms. Maple eyes him. “I hope the jog helped, but by the looks of your face, not so much.”
He lets go a long sigh. “Some, but…not the relationship troubles.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” She takes a hold of his hand. “Have you got someone to confide in, sweetheart?”
He gets halfway into a shake of his head and stops. “Steve.” His mom is great. He needed the unconditional love and comfort only a parent could offer, but he realizes he’s no longer the fifteen-year-old she remembers. She used to ask if his problem would matter in two weeks or two months or two years. Most of his childhood problems hadn’t really mattered at all except to him, so the answer was almost always and unequivocally no and could be dismissed with a good night’s sleep. Taylor, however, does matter and will matter, so Noah can’t not think about what happened and figure out how to move forward.
“Steve?” Ms. Wooster asks, eyes bright behind her cat’s eye glasses, bringing his attention back to the here and now.
He nods. “My billet dad.” Steve’s got a better understanding of who Noah is these days. He’s not sure why he didn’t think of it to begin with.
“Then you should call him.”
For the first time in days, he feels as if the weight is a little less heavy. “I will. God, thank you. I will. Listen, I should head home. I still owe you a meal or something, Ms. Maple, okay? I’ll be in town for a couple of weeks.”
