He turned, walking backward now, and finally met her gaze via the glow of a streetlight. Her breath hitched at the betrayal radiating off his expression.
Elisa froze.
Noah held the eye contact for several moments before darting a final glance between her and his dad. Then he gave a quick shake of his head. “I’m better off on my own.”
“Noah, wait. That’s not true.” He couldn’t believe that. He just needed to hear what happened, what she’d done to try to help. Tears slipped down her cheeks. “We need?—”
“You made your position clear.” Noah’s harsh words cut off her protests. “I’m the one who thought things could be different this time, and I was clearly wrong.”
“But that’s just it.” Elisa took several steps after him, even as he kept retreating. “You’re not wrong.”
“I’m never going to be what you need, Elisa.” Noah turned back around, throwing his final words over his shoulder. “So just calm down and go home.”
Then he disappeared into the shadows of the rain-sprinkled street.
twenty-four
Someone had mowed the yard recently.
The rich aroma of earth and grass stirred Noah’s senses as he stood before his grandfather’s headstone under the cloudy night sky. His shirt was plastered to his chest and his soaked pants scrubbed his legs. But he didn’t care. He shoved back his wet hair and dropped his duffel to the muddy grass beside a nearby grave.
This corner of the cemetery was fairly dark, but the scattered poles lining the paved road provided enough light for Noah to read the markings carved into Grandpa’s stone.
GILBERT RENE HEBERT
FATHER. GRANDFATHER. PUZZLE MASTER.
And then the quote fromThe Count of Monte Cristothat he had requested in his will.
HE WHO HAS FELT THE DEEPEST GRIEF IS BEST ABLE TO EXPERIENCE SUPREME HAPPINESS… LIVE, THEN, AND BE HAPPY.
“Well, I hope you’re happy—because you’ve really got me in a bind now.” Noah spoke to the cement block as steady rain continued to pour down his back. “The clock is ticking, and we’re stuck on this final clue. And on top of that, I’m on my own.”
Elisa’s face at the police station, full of regret, tugged at Noah. Maybe he should have heard her out, but he wasn’t mad at her. More like resigned. This is clearly how they—and their families—were meant to be.
“I guess I expected something else from her. Thought I had it, for a little while.” A regretful smile tugged at his lips. “You probably just threw Elisa into the mix to give me a fighting chance at figuring out these clues, didn’t you? But history tried to repeat itself.” His smile faded. “In a few ways.”
Images of his time with Elisa—from twelve years ago and from the past week—rushed together into a collage of sun-kissed, coconut-scented memories. For a moment, outside the police station, he’d considered her stricken expression and debated giving her another chance. He had no doubt she was sorry for her silence on the ball field. She’d obviously come to the police station to try to help, which said a lot.
But it didn’t change that he couldn’t trust her to be there. To put him before her family, when needed.
And the fact that he had needed her at all was more than a little unsettling. Both for the hunt…and for himself. It was best to cut it off now, before anyone got more attached or more hurt.
Heberts and Bergerons didn’t mix. How many more lives had to be destroyed for them to accept that?
Noah took a deep breath. “I guess it doesn’t matter anymore, anyway, does it? Dad—Russell—is going to ruin everything…as usual.” There wasn’t enough time to figure out the last clue before his dad paid off the inn and took over. He had no doubt Russell would be standing in front of the bank in the morning when they opened at nine.
His heart sank. “You know what the worst part is?” Noah slid to his knees in front of the grave marker. Cold pressed into his knees. “All of this was for nothing. I lost the hunt. I’ve lost the inn. And I lost Elisa—not that I ever really had her back.” He swallowed, eying the headstone as a downpour of emotions stronger than the storm washed over him. He choked over unshed tears, his heart racing. “I lost you.”
He sat silently for several moments, letting the tears fall and mix with the rain. Grandpa couldn’t hear him—or maybe he could. That was a question for Pastor Dubois. Still, the ball in his chest had eased a notch.
Noah wiped his face with his arm as reality weighed heavy on his shoulders. “I’m going to fail. You, the inn. All those memories. Everything you stood for and built. Dad’s going to run it into the ground, I can already tell.” He sniffed, shaking his head. “For the record, I’d much rather have you back than have the Blue Pirogue. Or money.”
Time passed—how much, he wasn’t sure. He sat there as the rain slowly subsided, until it was only a sprinkle misting the limbs of a nearby oak. All around him were stone names of former lives. Organized, tidy rows of heritage—for better or for worse.
Were any of them sons desperate to be enough? Fathers bent on betraying everyone they were supposed to love? Grandfathers who filled in the gaps left behind?
His gaze drifted back over Grandpa’s headstone.HEBERT. Noah might hate much of what that name represented, but it wasn’t totally tarnished—no matter what his mom, Sheriff Rubart, or anyone else in Magnolia Bay thought.
