She opened the door.
Noah stood on the back porch, a long white cane in one hand. In his other hand he held a paperback book.
"Did you walk over here?" she asked.
He scowled.
Dumb question. What else would he have done?
She looked behind him, let her eyes roam. Past the swing set and abandoned soccer ball, the yard behind and the barn and the field she'd plowed, the fence and his driveway... She could barely see Noah's house. How...?
"I can get around just fine," he muttered. He wiggled the cane a little. "It's not for show."
She wanted to close her eyes and sigh. Now, she'd offended him. Today was not her day. "Sorry." Mama would've been appalled at the one-word apology. As it was, Jilly's energy was sapped. She had nothing left. "What do you want?"
In the porch light, he almost looked pained. It certainly wasn't the closed-off expression she'd come to associate with him. Even this afternoon, when Lindsey had brought him that stupid pie, he'd kept his expression a careful blank.
"I have a copy of that book." He held out the paperback, and even from here she could see the white lines down the back of the spine. Obviously a well-loved copy.
She didn't take it from him and he shook it at her, as if she'd frustrated him. "Here. Take it."
"Aren't you going to finish the story tomorrow?" Because if he wasn't, that would be cruel. And Noah might be grumpy and standoffish, but he wasn't cruel.
"Yeah, but..." He ducked his head. "I didn't realize... I wanted to… I didn't know that was going to happen. With PJ."
Of course he'd overheard the entire thing. She'd hoped in vain that he'd been in some other part of the house.
"Neither did I."
He looked so lost that her mouth got ahead of her brain. "Do you want to come in and have a cup of coffee?"
"I—no. No, I can't."
Of course he couldn't. He was probably violating all of hisno trespassingrules just by being there.
Noah shoved the book toward her again.
She still didn't take it. "It wasn't about the book, okay? It was kind of you to bring that over, but he needs to hear the rest of the story tomorrow."
She saw from the tiny shake of his head and the crunch of his brows that he didn't understand.
"Sometimes, when kids get moved out of a foster house, it's sudden. They don't get to say good-bye to friends. They don't get to pick up the book they left in their desk at school. Maybe they miss the next episode of the cartoon they've been watching every morning."
She saw understanding dawn on his features.
"If you give him the book,” he said, “he'll be able to finish the story no matter what."
Noah was right. But... "PJ—and Lindsey and Casey—need to learn for themselves that my home is a safe place for them. Even if they don't get to read the end of the book, or a friend stops talking to them, or… whatever. Because I can't fix everything for them."
Healing took time. It was going to be a long road, for all of them.
Noah shook his head, like he still didn't agree with her. But this was her decision. The boys would hear the rest of the story tomorrow. They all would.
"It was really nice of you to come over." So unexpectedly nice. Like a surprise Christmas gift that a parent unveiled after all the other gifts were open. Noah cared. He had to, or he wouldn't have brought the book.
But her words instantly shut him down. He turned and left without a good-bye.
And she was okay with that.
She still didn't know why he chose to live alone, why he didn't want contact with anyone. He could obviously get around just fine, and he could care about people.
She'd seen the real Noah tonight, and she had more questions than ever.
