Stay away from him. He is dangerous, I hear Helene hissing in my inner voice as well.
"What happened to Julian?" Clara's gaze pleads with me not to dig any further. She doesn't want to get caught in the crossfire, but she's already in the middle of it.
In a dizzy spell, I grab her upper arms. "His son?"
She shakes her head. What the hell is going on here?Usually, the villagers are so talkative that they could easily work as gossip reporters. But when it comes to Noah, they all remain silent.
It's as if they're hiding something. As if they're sweeping a terrible truth about him under the rug so they don't have to face it any longer.
"Who is Julian?" I ask insistently while panic continues to well up inside me.
He lied to me, didn't he? He didn't mention that Julian was his son? Or did I just piece that together myself?
My memory is blurry. Too strong to answer these questions. But that's not what really matters right now. "Please, tell me," I plead.
Clara tries to wriggle out of my grip, avoiding my gaze. But I don't let go. "Julian was his best friend," she finally admits meekly.
If she thinks I'll be satisfied with this information, she's mistaken. "What happened to him?"
Her expression begs me to let it go. "Please, Elina. Ask him yourself."
"So it's something terrible," I say, swallowing hard, feeling all my muscles suddenly tense up.
Clara doesn't reply. She just lowers her gaze and nods.
I release my hold on her. "What did he do?" I whisper, my voice trembling.
She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, her lips pressed together. She could walk away, but she doesn't. Clearly, she's struggling within herself.
She wants to tell me.
Seconds, as thick as honey, pass by. No one says a word. The rushing of my own blood is all I hear.Driven by my heart, pounding so fiercely in my chest that it causes me pain.
"He killed him."
Her words hit me like bombs.
Killed? Noah is supposed to have killed someone? And his best friend, no less? "I don't believe it," I say because it simply can't be true.
A watery gleam forms in Clara's eyes. "They were hiking together in the Semmtal Gorge. They were caught in a thunderstorm. Julian fell," she stammers. "Noah didn't help him."
No. He would never do something like that. Beneath his tough exterior, Noah is the most helpful person I've ever met.
Or is he not? Am I just imagining it, like I've imagined my whole life that I know the men I get involved with, only for them to turn out to be liars and cheaters in the end?
My God, please, no.
"As his colleagues from the mountain rescue arrived, he just squatted next to Julian, holding his shoulder," Clara continues, as if the floodgates are now breaking open within her. "He was paralyzed. And that, even though he is a trained paramedic. Noah would have known exactly what to do."
"A paramedic?" I thought he was an office worker who takes emergency calls at the headquarters. Confused, I rummage through my memory, but again, I can't say for certain what he told me and what I imagined myself.
Clara nods vigorously. "He let him die. Only Noah knows what happened. But he constantly claims he can't remember."
Such things happen. Quite often, actually. The shock of witnessing a loved one die can trigger such a gap in memory.
No. I shouldn't defend him outright. Just as easily, he could be a liar.
Unable to gather my thoughts, I gaze at Clara.
