The drive back to Pualena was silent, aside from some country music playing quietly on the radio. When Noah parked in his driveway, Jayce immediately jumped out of the truck and ran into the house. Noah and Anne sat there in silence for a moment.
“He’s a good kid,” Noah said.
“Okay.”
“What a disaster.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “This is not how I wanted our day to go.”
“Noah?” she said softly.
He turned to look at her. “Yeah?”
“You’re a good man.”
The tension dropped from his shoulders, and the stress on his face melted into a gentle smile.
“Do you want to see the house?” he asked.
“I’d love to.”
He hopped out of the truck and circled around to open her door.
“I’ve flipped a lot of places,” he said as they walked inside, “but I didn’t want to let go of this one. I put it on the market because it’s way too much for just one person… but when the offers came in, I just couldn’t sell. So I stayed. And I became a foster parent.”
“Noah, that’s wonderful.”
He shrugged. “It’s only fair, after the way this community stepped in and raised me. Your dad more than anybody.”
Anne swallowed and nodded, suddenly close to tears.
“I miss him too,” Noah acknowledged. He took her hand and led her inside. “Come on.”
The house was a lot like Anne’s childhood home, albeit less rambling and located farther from the cliffs. It was a wooden house with high ceilings and a spacious, airy feeling. Oversized couches in the living room made the big space feel cozy.
Out back, a teenager was working in the garden. She had huge headphones nested in her curly hair, and her cheeks were smudged with dirt.
“That’s Jasmine,” Noah said, following her gaze. “Jayce’s twin. There was nothing at all back there when they moved in. I’d fixed up the house but hadn’t gotten around to taming the weeds out back. She turned it into a garden.”
“You sound just like a proud dad.”
“Do I?” He looked back at Jasmine with a small, worried frown. “I wish I was.”
“What do you mean?”
“I would adopt them if their mom would let me.”
“But she won’t?”
“No. Not yet, at least. A few months ago, the kids came to me and asked. I tried talking to their mom about it, but she wouldn’t hear it.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “Reunification’s the goal. Or it’s supposed to be. But it’s hard sending them back to parents who just keep failing them. It’s the hardest part.”
Anne squeezed his hand, and he turned to look at her.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” he said softly.
She stared into his eyes, wishing that she could just fall into his gaze and lose herself in the moment… but she couldn’t stop thinking about the battered fifteen-year-old boy sitting upstairs.
