Noelle stared at the mug of tea in her hand, the small shavings of tea leaves floating on the surface like tiny boats on a still sea. They didn’t do much, in fact, they didn’t do anything but bob in the same place when she shook the cup slightly. She felt like the tea leaves, bobbing in the same place as life shook the sea beneath her, never moving forward or backward, just staying in the same place.
The house was eerily quiet with Carol gone, the absence of her screeching and laughing louder than any scream she could’ve uttered in these halls. It yelled at her, the silence; demanded her attention when the static in her ears and mind didn’t have center stage. And when even the silence didn’t yell, she was left with a numbness as vast as the tea-ocean in her lap, no ending in sight.
The only sounds in the home were of Nicholas, scurrying around its halls trying to hide any traces of Carol that had sent Noelle into a sibbing fit when she’d seen them this morning after waking, making meals she didn’t eat, bringing cups of tea filled to the brim that stayed full.
She had felt bad, still did, because she saw the black circles underneath his eyes. She saw his own tears that he tried to hide from her. He tried to feed her, tried to get her to eat something, but she just wasn’t hungry. There wasn’t a desire to eat at this moment, so she didn’t. Her thoughts didn’t leave enough room for an empty stomach anyway, filling the hunger with endless what-ifs instead of food.
Sometimes, when her mind granted her the blissfulness of forgetting Carol had been taken, Noelle almost got hungry enough to eat. But when she rose and saw the emptiness of her home that had been filled with love and laughter just an evening ago, she wasn’t hungry anymore.
Sometimes she grew angry with Beatrice, but then she realized it wasn’t the woman’s fault, and then she grew angry at herself. She wondered why she hadn’t just told Beatrice the truth from the start, wondered why she had been so overcome with panic and desperation that she’d resorted to dishonesty to get what she wanted.
Noelle wondered what Carol was doing at the orphanage, what she was thinking and if she truly believed that Noelle had simply not wanted her anymore and had given her back to the orphanage. And that was the thought that made it so much worse for Noelle.
She didn’t want her daughter to think she’d been given away without second thought, that Noelle had deemed her unworthy of the love she’d been given while living with her. She didn’t want Carol to think that she was unimportant to her. It broke her heart to think that her daughter was possibly feeling abandoned and betrayed, and worst of all, forgotten.
Nicholas’ heavy footsteps echoed from the foyer, his boots muffled by the carpet as he came to take a seat across from her, his own steaming mug of tea in his hand. He looked disgruntled, his hair stuck up in all directions, his eyes sad and ringed with dark circles.
His clothes were rumpled, and his boots unlaced where they sat on his feet. Nicholas Birch looked like a tired man who was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and Noelle felt ashamed. He was just as devastated about Carol, and yet, he’d taken care of her. He was taking care of her, since yesterday when Carol had been taken from them.
“Are you okay if I leave just to grab a quick change of clothes?” He asked, voice gentle and understanding, nothing but pure concern and care. He met her eyes, the first time she’d looked at anything besides the tea leaves and the crackling fire in a good while. She could have sworn her heart fluttered, but it was gone so quickly, she was unsure if it was just her mind playing tricks on her. He looked handsome, even though he looked a bit worse for wear.
Noelle nodded, returning her gaze to the fire, before she placed her teacup on the coffee table and stood, the blanket from her lap left discarded on the floor. She smoothed her hands down her nightgown, she hadn’t even bothered to dress this morning.
“I think I’ll go lay down while you’re gone,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m…tired.”
Noelle was tired. She was tired of having her dreams ripped away, tired of feeling this vast emptiness that she had fought so long, that Carol had filled so effectively, only to have it be ripped open again when she’d been taken. Noelle Foster Birch was tired of being heartbroken, and she was tired of working so hard to get what she wanted only to have it be ripped away by those around her.
Granted, it was her one fault, but even she couldn’t blame herself for doing anything it took to get Carol home, when she’d already wanted it for so long. First Henry had ruined it for her, then even in his death he’d stood poised to ruin it again, so she’d adapted and overcome. And yet…
“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll be quick, I promise. Do you need me to help you with something before I go?” He asked, immediately rising to his feet and came to her side. Noelle’s heart almost broke again. Nicholas was so considerate, so loving and caring and kind. He was all she’d ever dreamed of in a husband, and she had no idea if she even deserved him.
She shook her head, making her way up the stairs. The wood floors were biting cold against her feet, but she barely felt it. Nonetheless, Nicholas followed her up, opened the covers for her to slip in, and sat on the edge of the bed right next to her. His broad hand covered a large part of her back as he caressed her, soothed her. Just as he had since yesterday, all night last night, and this morning when she awoke with a new wave of sadness.
He was good to her, and Noelle had no idea what would happen to them now that Carol was gone. Sure, he had proclaimed his love for her yesterday to Beatrice, but had that been part of his idea to keep Carol? What if she had read too much into this arrangement, what if he really had just married her to help and he didn’t feel that way for her. It would have been fine if Carol was still there because she knew he loved Carol, and that was the reason they had done it in the first place. But what would happen now?
Nicholas rubbed her back until he was sure she’d fallen asleep, only leaving when her breathing turned even enough to sell the illusion. She almost reached back to grab at him, almost asked him to bring all of his belongings with him when he came back, that he never had to leave for anything ever again.
But if he did not feel the same, she could not handle the rejection at this moment. So she stayed quiet, kept her breathing even, even when he bowed low to press a kiss to her temple. Noelle waited until the door closed behind him, and she heard River’s whinnying; then she let herself cry again. Only when she was certain he’d left, when she felt truly alone, did she let herself cry.
The bed shook with her sobs, her back and ribs straining against the breathless cries she made. A sound of utter despair escaped her, broken and horrid to even her own ears. Noelle cried herself to sleep, eyes swollen and pillow soaked in the pieces of her broken heart, and didn’t rise until four hours later.
***
Noelle was roused from sleep by a slightly cold hand on her back. The room around her was bathed in darker afternoon light, indicating that she’d slept to late noon. She turned, smiling smally at Nicholas when she saw him, dressed in fresh clothes and looking a lot better than he had earlier. Her eyes burned and her face felt swollen and hot, Noelle blushing when she saw the concern and sympathy in his eyes. She didn’t want his sympathy, not at all.
“Sorry for waking you,” he said softly, as if she were a startled animal, “Pastor Sam is here. He came to see how you were,”
Noelle almost cried again right then, the knowledge of everyone in town knowing what had transpired almost too much to bear. She never cared what anyone thought, but if they knew, then there would be rumors spread about—rumors that could get back to Carol and give her the wrong information about what had truly happened. She nodded, throwing back the covers when he stood to give her space. Her body felt stiff, her stomach and ribs tight with all of the crying. Her mouth felt dry, and her head was pounding.
“I’m just going to freshen up.” She said, her voice hoarse and awful. She was sure she smelled awful too, but she couldn’t really care. “I’ll be right down.”
Nicholas nodded, his mouth opening as if he wanted to say more, but he didn’t. Turning on his heel, he left, shutting the door with barely more than a nick. The room was silent once again, the only sounds were the beating of her own heart and the static in her ears that had been there since Beatrice had made her decision.
She made her way to the washroom and quickly washed her face, then she brushed her hair, looking duller than she’d ever seen it. Noelle stared at herself in the mirror for a moment, drinking in the full glory of her sadness that was displayed there. Dark circles rimmed her blue eyes, her face was gaunt and pale, her hair closer to rust than the rich red it usually was. She looked like a living corpse, a shell of the woman she once was. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to care.
Her bare feet padded off the wooden floor, the cold slightly unbearable but much preferred to the uncomfortable fit of her boots. Nicholas and Pastor Sam’s deep voices filtered out from the dining area of the kitchen. She’d only shrugged a robe over her nightgown and combed her hair. She hoped Pastor Sam didn’t focus too much on her appearance, had come as a friend and not a pastor.
Both of them turned to her when she came around the bend of the wall, Pastor Sam standing to greet her. He was not dressed in his formal attire, and Noelle was glad to see her friend. She took a seat next to Nicholas at the dining table, her husband—husband, it was still so strange—rising from his seat and going to the kettle. He fixed her a cup of tea as she and Sam started talking.
“How are you feeling?” Sam asked, placing his hand on hers in support. “I heard from Katherine, who heard what happened from some of the women at church.”
Noelle nodded, tears falling silently from her eyes. His face softened.
“Am I being punished, Sam? Is that why I can’t seem to keep my grasp on happiness?”
Her friend’s eyes softened even more, his own sheen of tears appearing. He knew her, had been by her side so many times when Henry had broken her spirit. He had been there when she’d first met Carol, when she’d adopted her—he’d been there for everything. Sam was one of her dearest friends, had shared in her victories and now shared in her failures. His tears rolled down his face as she sobbed,
“Is this my punishment for not mourning Henry as I should have? As his wife? Is this because I lied to Sister Beatrice?” Noelle truly did not understand, and she truly felt like she was being punished. She felt like her happiness was the price to pay for her sins.
Sam shook his head, Nicholas placing his hand on her upper back as he set the cup in front of her, taking his seat beside her. He had his own track of tears falling down cheeks.
“No, Noelle. I do not believe you are being punished.” Sam said. “God doesn’t punish, he redirects us to the right path.”
“Why was she taken from me, Sam?”
Sam’s head bowed. “I don’t know, Noelle. I do not know the way of the Lord. But I do know that he would never intentionally hurt you or Carol.”
Noelle sobbed harder. “I just don’t understand, I don’t understand why any of this turned out like this.”
“I know, my dear friend. I know, and I’m sorry for your sorrow.” Sam was crying with her now, no trace of that smile he seemed to wear like jewelry. He clutched her hand tighter. “The only advice I can give you is to pray, Noelle. Pray, talk to the Lord. Do not ask for anything, just allow Him to understand what is in your heart, allow Him to help you. To take your sorrow.”
His words settled over her like a heavy blanket. She realized that she had prayed these weeks, but only to ask and not to give. She realized that she had expected, and not given the Lord the opportunity to work inside her heart, as He always had.
She had only prayed to say thanks and to ask for more, not to give Him her heart, to allow Him to understand what she was feeling as Sam had said. And while God did not punish, she felt that she would have deserved it if He did. She’d unwittingly pulled her Lord into a one-sided relationship.
Sam squeezed her hand again. “Have faith, Noelle. God is not done with you yet.”