Noah and Me by Beckie Stevenson
Author:Beckie Stevenson [Stevenson, Beckie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781505530247
Amazon: B00QY86JG6
Barnesnoble: B00QY86JG6
Goodreads: 23384124
Publisher: CreateSpace Publishing
Published: 2014-12-12T05:00:00+00:00
We don’t speak the entire time he drives us out of the city and into the Moors. By the time we get to the winding country lanes, the cold mist has already started to descend over the roads. It’s only just after lunch, but when you’re high up here in the middle of nowhere, it starts to feel like the middle of the night, even in the middle of the afternoon.
“Shall we go straight to the graveyard?” he asks as we enter the village.
Might as well get it out of the way. “Sure,” I sigh.
He follows the road all the way down into the small dip in the middle of the village where the church and the splattering of shops surround it. “Don’t we need flowers or something?” I ask.
“I already have them,” he says, pulling his Range Rover up carefully at the kerb. “I got them first thing this morning. They’re in their own water and it’s cold in the boot, so we’re good.”
I nod, thinking about how thoughtful he is, and climb out of the car. Glancing back at the shiny black interior of the car, I decide that I actually really like it. Especially the fact that it’s warmed my bum. Noah goes around the back and opens the boot, pulling out a pair of scissors, a bucket, a hand towel, a bottle of water and two big bunches of flowers. “We have to cut the stems,” he tells me, “and I like to give the stone a wipe down.”
I’ve never seen the gravestone. I ordered it and paid for it, but I left before it was erected. “Okay. Just do what you normally do and I’ll follow.” I start to wring my hands together.
“Don’t be nervous,” he whispers, wrapping a thick grey scarf around his neck. I can’t help but notice what the dark grey does to the colour of his eyes and how it makes them look that little bit brighter in this murky afternoon. “Just think of it like you have an open telephone line to them. Talk to them. Say what you would say if God granted you thirty seconds each. Tell them just the important bits.”
I don’t think I’ll be able to do that, but I don’t tell him that. I’m hoping he’ll leave me alone when we’re there and I can just pretend that I did what he told me to. “Okay.”
He pushes open the wrought iron gate that screeches at us from overuse and age and starts down the path. He heads east. I feel myself frowning at his back. I know I haven’t been here for a while, but I’m sure their plot was over on the west side.
“Noah, I don’t think—”
He veers off the path and starts to walk over the uneven ground. I follow him. I hate that some parts are sunken in more than others. It makes me wonder why that is. Noah stops right in front of me and lowers his head. I sense this
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