Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Noah

After I dropped my dad off back at the house and made sure he was comfortably seated in the living room, I asked if he needed anything else. He thought about it and said with a smile, "I need you to get through to that cute Ella."

His answer stunned me. It took me a minute to respond. "I tried to take her to her favorite pizza place, but I don't know that she'll ever forgive me."

My father patted the chair next to him. I wanted to act like a moody teenager—roll my eyes and tell him I didn't want to talk. I'd done enough of that yesterday. I was an adult, so I did as he asked and sat.

"Son, from what I've seen and observed and felt, that girl is on the precipice of forgiving both herself and you. I've watched her over the past couple months, and I've talked to your mother about this. The Lord has His own timetable for people." He winked at me. "For sons to come home. For sisters to forgive themselves."

I couldn't help but smile. "True."

"Just like He has a timetable for you and Ella. Who knows? Maybe if your timetable was different for leaving Refuge Falls, she might want to get that slice of pizza with you."

"What do you mean?"

"If she knows you're leaving, she might not want to get invested."

It made sense. She had said flippantly that it didn't matter because I was leaving.

My father picked up the remote and waved me off. "Time to go to your old gym and get some rounds out on the punching bag. I can tell you need it."

I grunted and stood, patting my dad's shoulder. "You are ever observant. I want to do that, but Mom will kill me if I leave you."

My father shook his head. "Just keep your cell phone on. Go get some of that energy out. Think about staying for longer than a week, son." He caught my eye. "I want you to stay. I know your mom does too. Plus, don't you have a business partner? Can't you take some time away?"

Bill. We'd texted back and forth when everything had happened, but I'd told him I would stay in touch. Now that I'd been reminded of him, I felt guilty for not calling him back. I waved at my father and headed toward the door. "Okay. I'll leave my phone on. Call if you need anything. I'll bring dinner back for you."

"Okay," my father said over the blaring TV.

I hopped in the Jeep and drove into town, calling Bill on the way.

"How is your dad?" He didn't even say hello, just went straight to business.

"He's great. Well, he's okay. Doing better. Recovering. I took him to the doctor today, and he's okay."

"Wow. Look at you, all domesticated."

I grunted. "I'm not a dog."

Bill roared with laughter.

I focused on business. "How are the accounts coming?" At any moment, private investigators could come to us in hopes of discussing a potential job.

"We have our team. You focus on being there."

Hesitating, I asked, "What if I stayed a little longer than a week?"

Bill snorted. "Take as long as you need. You don't have to go on these jobs anymore. You just want to."

He had a point. I'd always insisted on taking a hands-on approach with as many operations as I could. We had a great team of ex-military and ex-police who could handle any op we took and put in private security systems. We had made good money for ourselves the past two years, and I was happy to have a tidy sum in the bank. "Okay, I'll let you know."

We chatted for the next few minutes until I got to the local gym in town. To my astonishment, the old gym had been torn down and a completely new facility had been built in its place.

"I'm going to let you go, Bill," I said. "It's time for me to get in some rounds on the punching bag at the gym."

"It doesn't surprise me you're going to the gym; that's a vacation to you."

I laughed and hung up. Then I reached into the back of the Jeep and grabbed my gym bag. I always kept a spare packed and ready. Bill was right: even on vacation, this was what I would be doing.

I couldn't remember the last time I had taken a real vacation. I wasn't exactly the beach type.

Three hours later, I came out of that gym a new man. I called my father to check in, but he wouldn't have any of it. "All I can think about is that pizza you talked about earlier," he grumbled. "Bring a couple back to the house. Your mom is bringing the demon boys out. Damon has to work the late shift."

I laughed. "Sounds good."

I dropped by the pizza place, which fortunately hadn't changed much. I ordered a few pizzas, one each for my parents' preferred toppings and a pepperoni for the boys.

As I waited, I wandered the old restaurant, thinking fondly of the time I'd worked here in high school. I spotted some notices pinned to the bulletin board, and one of them caught my eye—a picture of a lake house. The ad said the house was available for rent throughout the summer. When I checked the address, I realized it was two houses down from Ella's.

Suddenly excited, I pulled out my phone and dialed the number. "Hi, I'm calling about the lake house. Is it still available this summer? Or can I do a couple weeks?"

My father had made it clear that I was supposed to forgive myself and get Ella to forgive me. I thought about stupid Clint asking her out and how someone had broken into her house. It made my blood boil.

"Yes, it's for the summer. It's my family house, and no one is using it this summer."

I recognized that voice. "RJ?"

"Who is this?"

I laughed. "It's Noah Armstrong." RJ and I used to play football together.

"Noah? I heard you were in town. I'm sorry to hear about your dad."

"He's okay. I took him to the doctor today, and he's doing good. He's recovering."

"I'm so glad. Wait. Are you calling about the lake house for yourself?"

I hedged. "Yes." Everything was moving way too fast.

"Hey, I'll just let you live in it, if you do some work around there. We need some painting done and a bunch of other projects. If you'll be around all summer, I'll get the boat out. We'll do some waterskiing."

The idea had me perking up. Growing up, RJ and I had a lot of fun waterskiing with our brothers. "You know what, buddy? I'll take you up on that offer." I felt like I'd just charged in for a touchdown in the state football game, or like I'd finally gotten the terrorists.

I was moving back home. At least for now.

I talked some details out with RJ, and he told me to pick up the keys from his office downtown, which wasn't far from the pizza place. As I loaded the pizzas into my Jeep, I decided that maybe my dad was right. Maybe God did have a timeline. Could He convince Ella to forgive me? That was the big question.