The two of us shared a laugh over that and settled into a comfortable discussion of today’s reading—without the gory details. And it was comfortable, even if Noah seemed anything but happy to have me here. I wasn’t into taking his vibes personally but I couldn’t ignore all his drawn-out silences. And the frowning. So much frowning. Even if he’d sworn he wanted me to stay for the meal, it was obvious that wasn’t the whole truth.
But I had to ask: “Is your bakehouse selling this bread at the farm stand? Can I buy this? Because I require more.”
“Well, we”—Noah watched as I chose another slice—“we don’t have it in production yet. Still working on the recipe.”
“You didn’t ask for my opinion but I think the recipe is perfect.” I couldn’t believe I’d ever willingly given up bread. What a tragedy. “Feel free to send me any test loaves though. I’m happy to provide additional feedback.”
He stared at me a moment longer before blinking away and clearing his throat. “Yeah. Sure.”
“What do you like about being a teacher?” Gennie asked.
“Lots of things,” I said. “I like meeting new kiddos every year and growing a little community in our classroom. I like that we get to explore books and do experiments and learn how to treat each other with kindness and dignity. And I really like that I get to match my earrings to the things we’re learning about. I have so many apple and pumpkin earrings.”
“Weren’t you going into public relations or something?” Noah asked.
When I glanced across the table at him, I read the surprise on his face. He hadn’t meant to ask. That made it even better, as far as I was concerned.
“Yeah, that fizzled out fast. I switched over to psychology before the end of my first year and then switched to child development.” Since we were finished eating, I reached for his plate, stacking it atop mine. “I didn’t really have a specific plan—”
“Do you ever?”
I collected Gennie’s plate and added it to my stack. “Sometimes,” I replied with a laugh. “Teaching wasn’t on my radar until my last year when I had an internship based in an elementary school.”
“Did you stay at Boston College?”
I nodded as I gathered the utensils and consolidated the leftovers. “I did and I stayed an extra year to earn my teaching credential.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Noah said, reaching for the dishes.
“Maybe not but I’m doing it anyway.” I glanced to Gennie. “Do you think you can carry these plates to the dishwasher for me?”
She jumped up from her seat. “Aye aye, captain.”
“And you stayed in Boston after that,” he said.
Check out this chatty guy.I swallowed a grin. “I bounced around between districts for the first few years but then I found an independent school where I really connected with the leadership and community, and I’ve been there ever since.”
Noah pushed away from the table and circled the island. He returned with a paper bag and dropped the remaining bread into it. “Take this with you,” he said. Before I could reply, he gathered the last few dishes and set them in the sink. To Gennie, he asked, “Do you want to feed the dogs? I bet they’d like to see you.”
“Of course I want to feed the dogs,” she cried, jamming the last of the silverware into the dishwasher.
“You can walk Shay out and then head down there. Okay?”
That was one way to tell me I’d overstayed my welcome. It was a good thing I’d already been dumped so hard I was mostly dead inside and couldn’t take offense to this man’s mood.
But I had to talk to Noah about some of Gennie’s more concerning comments.
“Actually,” I started, gesturing toward him, “can I get a second with you? Maybe while Gennie tends to the dogs?”
He stared at me while drawing in a breath and then slowly blowing it out. It was as though I’d asked him whether I should saw off his arm with a butter knife or a rusty teaspoon.
He grabbed the paper bag and thrust it toward me. “Yeah. Sure. No problem. Lead the way.”
chaptersix
Noah
Students will be able to establish—and then destroy—boundaries.
