Chapter 39
Me: Where the heck are you when I need you?
Ivy: Umm . . . you’re the one who left the country. Not a good trip? Kids roast you on a spit?
Me: Kids were great. Trip was great. Just crossed the border into AZ.
Ivy: What gives?
Me: Guess who else was in my group.
Ivy: Well . . . John Wayne is dead, so not him . . .
Me: 
Ivy: That guy from the Easter brunch?
Me: Think worst-case scenario here. Who on the earth would be most opposed to spending a week with me in a small group setting?
Ivy: Girl, no way.
Me: Way.
My phone buzzes with an incoming call, but I silence it and go back to frantically texting, ignoring the side-eyes and silent questions coming from a driving Marcus. I should have taken the back seat instead of letting Devin play the gentleman.
Me: Can’t talk. Witnesses.
Ivy: Noah?! In Mexico?
Me: Ten points for you.
Ivy: With you now?
Me: No, he left early yesterday because his brother was in an accident in Denver.
Ivy: You’re killing me! Enough with the twenty questions. Not texting again until you fill me in.
Me: I had no idea he would be there. He had no idea I’d be there. He was a last-minute addition because someone bailed. I tried to clear the air early, but he pretty much stayed away and/or silent . . . until yesterday morning, when he APOLOGIZED and THANKED me for what I said in my devotional and told me how WRONG he was about things!
Ivy: I CAN’T EVEN!
Me: But then had to leave and no one has heard anything and I’m really worried and I feel like I should reach out but I don’t even have his number and I don’t know what to do and WHERE ARE YOU WHEN I NEED YOU??!!!
Ivy: Deep breaths girl we got this.
Me: Aaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrgggggggghhhhhhh!
Ivy: What happened to his brother?
Me: Hit by car while biking. Critical condition. That’s all I know.
Ivy: Dang.
Dave says you need to contact him.
Me: #nonumber #alsoscary #whyisdaveinthisconversation #jkhidave
Ivy: Don’t be so last century. There has to be a way. How did you communicate for tutoring? #chicken
Me: No-longer-a-student email #definitelychicken
Ivy: Social media?
Me: Please. You think Noah is on social media?
Ivy: So you stalked him and found nothing?
Me: . . .
Ivy: Ha! What about your bro-in-law?
Me: Die first
Ivy: Chicken
I can’t help the frustration that whooshes out, and Marcus catches my eye before I can dive back into my phone. He glances to the back seat, where Devin has donned headphones for a Netflix binge made possible by our border crossing.
“You sound an awful lot like Noah did on the way to the airport yesterday,” Marcus says, his gaze back on the road.
I plead the fifth and stare out the window.
“He didn’t want to talk either, which is understandable with the news about his brother—not to mention he barely knows me.”
No comment.
“I hope his brother is okay. Kinda has me preoccupied, the not knowing. So I’d imagine you’re probably dealing with that, too, only more so because you two were already connected.”
“Pfff.”
“Okay, maybe not connected, but there’s definitely some connection there. Things always hit harder when they happen to someone you know.”
I concede with a one-shoulder shrug.
“But I think this might go beyond that, considering the number of times I caught you two watching or avoiding each other.”
“I wasn’t—” I break off, realizing what he’s said. “He . . . ?”
Marcus’s cheeks stretch into a sly grin.
I sit back in my seat and fold my arms. “You’re the worst.”
“Guilty as charged.”
He goes thoughtful for a few minutes, giving me false hope that he’ll drop it.
“I just met him, but Noah seems like a nice guy.” He pauses, weighing his words. “Was he mean to you?”
His word choice sends me into a nervous fit of laughter that has my eyes watering. Nipping it before the tears get real, I give him the CliffsNotes version of our history. I focus on the road; he drives and makes validating-therapist sounds, asking clarifying questions that make me think harder about all that’s happened.
“Do you like him?” he asks when I’ve finished.
“I don’t know.” I sigh. “But this isn’t about that. I’m worried about his brother. And him.”
“So let him know. Be a friend.”
“I don’t have his number.”
“Jane does.”
“I don’t have her number either.”
“I do.” He hands me his phone. “Text her.”
Less than a minute later, Noah’s contact information stews in my phone.
In the meantime, Ivy has texted me a few hundred times, so I catch her up.
Ivy: I like this Marcus. He’s a good influence.
Me: You’re both the worst. But yeah, he has mad skills. Now, what the heck do I say to Noah?
Ivy: Reach out. Ask about his brother. See what happens.