He watched her watching the fountain. “What do you believe in, then?”
“Prayer.” She rolled in her lower lip. “Though I admit, sometimes it feels almost as futile as wishing on a penny.”
“I’ve never heard a believer confess that before.” He thought it was just him. The urgency to find the next clue faded, replaced by an urgency to know more of Elisa’s thoughts on the matter.
She stepped closer to the flowing water, looking down at the coins cluttering the fountain’s concrete bottom. “I prayed hard for my mom when she got sick.” She rolled the penny between her fingers, her voice trailing to a near whisper. “It didn’t work.”
He knew what that was like. “I didn’t even know about my grandfather’s cancer returning until it was too late to pray.” Noah sat on the rim of the fountain, stretching his legs in front of him. “But when my parents divorced, I sure tried everything.”
Those weren’t nights he ever wanted back. Begging God to change his dad’s mind. To fix his parents’ marriage.
He stared at his crossed ankles. “But instead of witnessing a miracle, I only witnessed yelling matches, ones that sent me cowering to my closet. Witnessed my dad driving away. Mom’s mascara leaving permanent tracks on her cheeks.”
“I’m so sorry.” Elisa joined him on the edge of the fountain, still holding the penny. The warmth of her body radiated into his side despite the fact they weren’t touching. Comforting, like a summer memory.
She cast him a sidelong glance. “You never talked about your parents when we were…you know, when we…”
“Dated?” He quirked an eyebrow at her. “It’s not a dirty word.”
“Depends on who you ask. Sure feels like it these days.” A blush crept up Elisa’s cheeks, turning them irresistibly pink. She sobered. “Semantics aside—why didn’t you talk about it?”
That was easy. He let out a sigh. “I was eighteen and with you.”
She turned questioning eyes on him, her face close enough to bring back all sorts of teen angst.
He should put the brakes on this conversation, but the truth rolled off his lips. “That summer was perfect, Elisa.” He held her gaze. “The last thing I wanted to do was bring up my childhood drama.”
She licked her lips. “But it found us anyway.”
He nodded slowly. “I guess it did.”
They sat in silence for a moment. Then, with her gaze fixed on the piece of copper in her hands, she angled slightly toward him. “Do you think my mom getting sick, and your parents divorcing anyway, means God didn’t hear us?”
“No.” The word left his mouth before he could fully process it, and he paused. Did he mean that? “I guess I haven’t thought about it one way or the other.”
“But you don’t go to church anymore.” Her voice lilted, inviting more detail that he somehow didn’t mind giving.
Maybe it was the way the sunset created a stunning backdrop to the west, or the way the wind whispering through the oak leaves overhead protected their hushed tones, but for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel like hustling to the next item on his to-do list.
He felt like maybe he was supposed to be sitting right there, right then.
“I’m not mad at God, if that’s what you mean.” He lifted one shoulder. “I guess it’s more a keep-my-distance type thing. I catch myself assuming God is like my dad, which I don’t think is true. But then I’m not sure what to think, so I just…don’t.”
“I get that.” Then her eyes widened. “I mean, my dad is great and all. He just…didn’t handle losing Mom well, you know? He changed after that.” She sniffed. “Understandably.”
So she still made excuses for him. Not that Noah could blame her—he hadn’t seen his own father in person in years. Easy for him to say what he would or wouldn’t do if he ever did again. He wasn’t dealing with the guy day in and day out.
Maybe there was some grace to his absence, after all.
Elisa held up the penny and let it drop from one palm to the other. “I think God hears our prayers and cares. It’s just that things are often beyond our ability to understand this side of heaven.”
Ha. He twisted his neck to look at her. “That’s a church answer.”
“Some answers are cliché, but they can also be true.”
“I’ve heard plenty of those, trust me,” Noah scoffed as he stretched his legs out in front of him. “Then I realized the church wasn’t incredibly kind to divorced adults.”
She kept slowly tossing the penny from one hand to the other. “Your mom?”
