The Noel Diary

  He shook his head. “The thing is, I was a mess myself. Ruth blamed me for Charles’s death. I blamed myself as well. I felt like I had already taken one son from her. I couldn’t take another child from her. Not that the state would have let me anyway. Men don’t often end up with the children, I knew that.”

  He breathed out slowly. “When I first told her that I wanted a divorce and I wanted to take you with me, she said to me, ‘You want to take another child from me? You want to kill him too?’ ”

  I swallowed.

  “I couldn’t do it. I had no right to do it. I had visitation rights, but I didn’t take them. Not that I didn’t want them—I desperately missed you—but because I had lost the ability to see you. I was so filled with grief and guilt that I did the worst thing I could do. I started drinking.” He looked at me. “Long story short, four years later, I cleaned up. I remarried and went back into the field.

  “I desperately wanted to see you, but it had been so long by then that I couldn’t see how to do it without causing you pain.” He looked me in the eyes. “In my profession I’d counseled clients who suddenly had a parent come back into their lives, and sometimes it just really messed with them. It caused them more pain, not less. It just didn’t seem fair to put you through that. I didn’t feel I had the right to.”

  His expression grew still more serious. “You have to understand that I honestly didn’t know about Ruth’s condition. I had no idea what she was doing to you. Years later, when I found out that she might be abusive, I contacted a lawyer about getting custody of you. I even called my old friends at DCFS to see if I could pull some strings. Then I called her. I told her that I was going to take you. That was a mistake. She freaked out. The next time I called, you were gone. You had run away.”

  “I didn’t run away,” I said. “She kicked me out. I came home one day and everything I owned was in the yard.”

  “I’m so sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “Even when I tried to help, I failed you.” Suddenly his eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t stronger. I know, at this point, that saying I’m sorry is absurd. Way too little, way too late.” He looked again into my eyes as a tear fell down his cheek. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t expect anything from you. But for what it’s worth, I really am sorry.”

  His apology washed over me without effect. The moment fell into deep silence.

  After a few moments he said, “I tried to find you, you know. I never forgot about you. I just thought I was doing the right thing. From where I was coming from, it made sense. Ruth had always been a good mother. She was a better mother than I was a father. She was a good person. At least when I knew her.

  “And she loved you both. Losing Charles was the most difficult thing she had ever gone through. I could understand her turning on me—I guess she needed someone to blame—but I never imagined that she would turn on you.”

  He breathed out heavily. “In hindsight, I wish I had stayed with her. For both of your sakes. But hindsight’s always twenty-twenty, isn’t it?”

  In spite of my pain, I slowly nodded. Then I looked into his eyes. “I hated you.”

  “I would expect that,” he said softly. “You have every reason to hate me. I failed you. And I can’t give you back what you lost.” He grimaced and wiped his eyes. Then he looked back up at me. “If there’s anything I can do for you now, I’ll do it.” His eyes welled up again. “Even if you tell me to stay out of your life.”

  The moment again fell into silence. My father had poured out everything he had, and now it was my turn to respond. My mind reeled. I wasn’t sure what I had expected in coming back to see him, but it wasn’t this. I realized that there was some part of me that had hoped he would attempt to justify his actions, giving me justification for my hatred and anger. But he hadn’t. He was humble and self-deprecating. He had thrown himself under the proverbial bus.

  As I sat there, Elyse’s words about truth came back to me. In less than an hour, my perspective on the world, past, present, and future, had changed. In all honesty, had I been in his position, I might have done the exact same thing he had. I could fault his failure—even his wisdom—but not his heart. He had clearly suffered deeply for his mistakes. He was still suffering. I felt no reason to add to his pain. Again Elyse’s words came to me: Grace. Grace.

  As I looked at him, he seemed different to me. It was like looking in a mirror. We were the same person, in the same place, seeking the same thing—peace and reconciliation with the past. There was no point in dragging this into the future.

  “There is something you can do,” I finally said.

  “Anything,” he replied.

  “There’s someone I want you to meet. She’s outside in the car.”

  CHAPTER

  Twenty-Two

  September 24, 1986

  Dear Diary,

  My baby was hiccuping today. It’s so strange to think that she has a life of her own. I wish I could be in there with her, where no one could see me. Today Jacob asked me if I had ever been to the moon. I said, “No.” He said, “I have.” I said, “What was it like?” He said, “Charles was there.”

  I love that little boy.

  Noel

  Scott looked at Rachel curiously as I led her into the house.

  “This is Rachel,” I said.

  He offered his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Thank you. Likewise.”

  “Please sit.”

  Rachel and I sat down on the couch. Scott sat back in the chaise. “So, are you two . . . married?”

  “No,” I said. “Rachel’s a friend.”

  “Sorry. You make a good couple.”

  Rachel smiled. “You’re not the first to think that.”

  “Can I get you a drink?”

  “I’m okay,” she said.

  “Jacob said you had something to ask me.”

  “Yes.” She glanced at me, then back at my father. “Did you have a young woman living with you about the time you lost Charles?”

  My father just stared at her for a moment, then said, “That’s why you look so familiar. You look exactly like your mother.”

  Rachel took a sharp breath. I reached over and squeezed her hand.

  “The answer to your question is yes. She was a young lady named Noel Ellis. She was from Logan, Utah. She was almost three months pregnant when she came to live with us.”

  I glanced over at Rachel. She was nearly shaking. “Do you know where she lives now?”

  “It’s been a little while. After she got married, she moved to Provo. We lost touch after that, but up to that point she would call fairly regularly.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  My father looked at me. “Because of you, I think. She loved you. Of course I was still around at the time, but she had seen how hard your mother was taking things. I think she had better intuition than I did.”

  “If she got married, her last name changed,” Rachel said.

  “Right,” Scott said. “She married a guy named King. I think his first name was Keith. Maybe Kevin.” He leaned back in his chair and finished his drink. Then he said, “Noel King. Unless she got divorced and moved out of state, it shouldn’t be hard to find her.”

  “Thank you so much,” Rachel said.

  “I’m glad to help.”

  Just then Gretchen walked in. “Hi, I’m feeling left out.” She walked up to me. “Welcome home, Jacob.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  She turned to Rachel. “And what is your name, dear?”

  “Rachel,” she said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “And?” she said, wagging her finger between us. “You two are . . .”

  “Just friends,” Rachel said, a little too quickly.

  My heart panged a little.

  “Oh,” Gretchen replied. “Pity. You look so cute together.”

  “That’s what I said,” Scott said. “I just didn’t use the word cute.”

  Gretch
en smiled. “Well, food is almost ready. I’m broiling salmon and I’m told that I’m quite good at it, so if you would like to eat with us, we would be delighted.”

  I looked at Rachel.

  “I love salmon,” she said.

  “Love to,” I said.

  “Wonderful. Rachel, would you like to come into the kitchen while I finish? I could use some girl talk.”

  “Of course,” she said, standing.

  After they left, I looked at my father. “Gretchen seems nice.”

  “She’s a really fine woman.” Then he looked down. “I’m a lucky man, Jacob. I’ve married two fine women in my life. I’m grateful for both of them.”

  I looked at him quizzically. “Even after all Mom did?”

  “What she did?” he repeated gently. “She gave me love. She gave me you.” His eyes welled. “You should know, I wept at her funeral. But she died long before that. I knew the woman she was, Jacob. And I still love that woman. I always will.” He shook his head. “She had my sympathy, even my pity for what she became, but not my disdain. She deserves that respect.” Then he looked at me again. “She gave me you and Charles. What more could I ask for?”

  CHAPTER

  Twenty-Three

  October 22, 1986

  Dear Diary,

  I’m more tired these days. Carrying around this bowling ball doesn’t help, but it’s more than that. I just want to lie in bed sometimes, like Mrs. Churcher, but I can’t. I’m doing all the cooking and cleaning now. I feel like I’m Jacob’s only mother. Sometimes Scott helps if he’s not late. He’s very busy at work, though I wonder if maybe it’s hard being home with his wife the way she is, so he stays away. He’s so sad too. I know he blames himself for what happened. Why does life have to be so hard? I hope my skin stops itching. It drives me crazy.

  Noel

  I was glad that I had said yes to the dinner invitation, not just because the food was remarkable but because Gretchen had undoubtedly spent the better part of the day in the kitchen preparing for us with little more than a slim hope that we might dine with them.

  We started off our meal with a light arugula and avocado salad, followed by salmon with glazed sweet carrots, garlic green beans, and crispy roasted new potatoes. For dessert we had something Gretchen called a strawberry cool brûlée, which was something like a crème brûlée but without the cooking or caramelized sugar on top.

  After we ate, we sat around the table and talked. Scott brought out wine, a four-year-old bottle of Rioja Blanco he had been saving for a special occasion. It paired perfectly with the dinner. Even Rachel had a little. She didn’t have much, just a glass, but it seemed to immediately affect her.

  Rachel said to Gretchen, “I don’t really drink. Actually, I never drink.”

  “You shouldn’t have much, then,” Gretchen said.

  “I’ll just have a little more,” she replied.

  My father filled her cup half-full. “There you go, dear.”

  “Thank you.” She turned to me. “I’m such a lush.”

  We all laughed.

  It was a pleasant evening, and, frankly, not at all how I’d expected it to go. As the evening waned, my father said, “You need to tell me something. Even though, technically, you did live in the same house, you never met. So how did the two of you hook up?”

  Rachel looked at me and smiled widely. “It was my fault. I kept coming to the house to see if I could find someone to tell me about my mother. One day I came by and there was Jacob. It was . . . fortuitous.”

  “It was fortuitous,” I said. “That was a good day.”

  Rachel smiled. “For both of us.”

  I cleared my throat. “Rachel’s engaged.”

  Gretchen turned to her. “Oh? Who’s the lucky man?”

  “His name is Brandon,” Rachel said. “He’s from St. George. He’s an accountant.”

  “Well, Brandon must be an amazing guy,” my father said. “Not just because Jacob is tough competition, but because you are definitely a catch.”

  “You’re embarrassing me,” Rachel said, smiling. Then she said to me, “Do you think I’m a catch?”

  “Of course I do.”

  She looked at me with a peculiar expression. Scott and Gretchen must have noticed it as well, because no one spoke for a moment. Then Gretchen said, “Would anyone like some coffee? I have decaf.”

  “No, thank you,” Rachel said.

  “Thank you,” I said. “But it’s been a long day. We should probably get back to the hotel.”

  “It’s been more than a long day. It’s been a really good day.”

  “Hear, hear,” I said, lifting my glass.

  At the front door Scott said to me, “Thank you. For giving me a chance.”

  I nodded slowly. “Thank you for the truth. And what you gave Rachel.”

  “It was my pleasure.”

  “I’m curious. What you told us about Rachel’s mother—are you supposed to share that information?”

  He shook his head. “No. That was not kosher.”

  “Can you get in trouble with the state?”

  He shrugged. “I suppose.”

  “But still you shared it.”

  “I had just told you that if there was anything I could do for you, I would do it. That was no time to renege on an offer. So, you asked who she was, I told you.”

  “Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to her.”

  “You have no idea how much this means to me. I’m just glad I was around for it.”

  “Me too,” I said.

  He suddenly sighed. In a softer voice he said, “Tell Rachel not to get her hopes too high.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Noel’s parents went to such great lengths to hide her pregnancy that they probably wanted it kept secret. It’s possible that when she married, she never told her husband that she’d had a child. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d run across that in marriage counseling.”

  I nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll tell her. Thank you.”

  “When can I see you again?” he asked.

  “You name the time.”

  “You’re the busy one. You say when, and we’ll be there. Gretchen and I like to drive. I’ve never been big on flying.”

  I nodded. “So that’s where I got it.”

  CHAPTER

  Twenty-Four

  October 29, 1986

  Dear Diary,

  Two days ago I thought I was going into labor. Mr. Churcher had to come home from work and drive me and Jacob to the hospital. They said it was false labor, something called Braxton Hicks. (Of course it was named after a man. Like he ever had it.) I wouldn’t want a false labor named after me. I was sorry to inconvenience Mr. Churcher. Little Jacob was so confused. He didn’t like it when they took me back into the checkup room and wouldn’t let him go with me. He started crying. He didn’t even want to be with his father. He wanted me.

  Noel

  Rachel was the happiest I’d seen her since we’d met. The night air was cool, so I opened the car’s front windows a few inches to bring in fresh air. As we drove back to our hotel, I said, “What a night. I thought it was going to be awful. Instead, it was perfect.”

  “He was so happy to see you,” she said. Then she added, “I’m happy to see you.” I glanced over at her and she suddenly laughed. “I feel so good.”

  “It’s the wine,” I said.

  “I might have to do this more.”

  “Yeah. Well, not tonight.”

  “How come?”

  “Because you’ve had enough.”

  As we neared the resort Rachel became less talkative and I wondered if the alcohol was making her sleepy. I handed my keys to the valet, then took Rachel by the arm and walked into the hotel.

  As we walked down the long corridor to our suite, she laid her head on my shoulder. I put my arm around her. We walked inside our room, then Rachel turned to me, a soft smile warming her face. “Thank you for helping me find my mother.”


  “You’re welcome,” I said. “We helped each other.”

  She looked into my eyes. “Did you mean what you said?”

  “What did I say?”

  “Do you really think I’m a catch?”

  “Yes. You are. Not just because you’re insanely beautiful but because you’re a really good person. You’re very sweet.”

  She giggled. “I am sweet,” she said, touching my chest with her finger. “Do you like me?”

  “Of course.”

  “I don’t think Brandon likes me. I think he wants to marry me, but I think he would change a lot of things about me if he could. I think he’s going to put a leash on me.”

  I chuckled. “He’d be a fool to do so. And you have definitely had too much to drink.”

  “I only had a little.”

  “I know. But for you a little is a lot.”

  Her eyes softened with a childlike vulnerability. “Do you love me?”

  The question had more power than she could have known. My heart throbbed in my chest. I looked into her eyes. “Yes.”

  “I love you too. I love you more than anyone I’ve ever known.” Then she leaned into me and we kissed. Softly at first, then with growing passion and power. After a couple of minutes she stepped back from me and grabbed my hand. “Come here.” She led me into her bedroom and we both fell over on the bed. We drew together like magnets, her soft, full lips dissolving into mine. Then she reached over and began to undress me. I took her hands and stopped her.

  “No,” I said, sitting up. “We can’t do this.”

  “Of course we can,” she said breathlessly. “I want to do this.”

  “No. You’ll hate me tomorrow. You’re engaged to another man.”

  “I don’t want to be engaged anymore.”

  “You’re in no condition to decide that right now. I’m not going to lose you by taking advantage of you.”

  She started to cry. “You won’t lose me.”

  “Yes, I will. Your guilt will eat you alive. You won’t want it to, but it will.”

  Her wet eyes pleaded with me. “But don’t you want me?”