Safe in Noah's Arms. Mary Sullivan

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       CHAPTER TWO

      “CAN YOU BELIEVE this whole cockeyed situation?” Noah asked Audrey and Laura when he arrived at Laura’s café for lunch. They were crowded into Laura’s office in the back behind the kitchen. “I’m stuck with Monica Accord on the farm.”

      He and his best friend, Audrey Stone, ate together most days, either at her flower shop or at Noah’s Army Surplus, and took turns bringing food. He’d chosen the bakery today so he could vent to both his best friend and his sister.

      “She broke your arm,” Laura said, patting her brother’s cast. “It was the best solution. She can be of use to you on the farm.”

      “Ha! She threw a bunch of weeds onto the compost heap even after I’d told her they belong in the garbage. How is that useful?”

      “She might become better at it than you think.” Laura pushed her long hair back over her shoulder. She’d inherited a more subdued version of their father’s red hair than Noah had.

      “Are you kidding? She overwatered the turnips so I can’t water them tomorrow. She didn’t water the radishes enough, so I have to water them again this evening. I need less work, not more.” He banged his fist on Laura’s desk, rattling a bunch of papers, a soup ladle and a bag of cloth diapers delivered by her service. “The woman’s too stupid to know a rake from a curling iron.”

      Laura stood abruptly and picked up the diapers. “I have to go. It’s feeding time and I’m ready to burst.”

      Noah perked up. “How’s Pearl doing?” Flat-out chuffed to be a brand-new uncle, his curiosity about and fascination with his niece grew with each passing day.

      “Growing by leaps and bounds.” Laura tucked the diapers under her arm and picked up the soup ladle to return it to the kitchen. “Who left this here?”

      “Probably you.” Noah laughed. Laura left a trail of cooking utensils wherever she went. The woman was as passionate about preparing food as he was about growing it.

      “You two stay here and finish your lunch.” Resting her hand on Noah’s shoulder, Laura said, “Give Monica a chance. I almost lost Nick by judging on appearances and past behavior. People grow, Noah. They change.”

      After Laura left the room, Noah finished his quinoa salad and felt Audrey watching him the whole time. He knew why. Monica used to be married to Audrey’s brother, Billy Stone, until he died in Afghanistan. She probably felt some kind of loyalty to Monica.

      “I’d rather do anything this summer than teach spoiled Monica to farm,” he said, disgust coloring his tone far more than the situation warranted. “It’s distasteful to me.”

      “I understand, Noah, but be careful you don’t make assumptions that are unfounded,” she said. “Or based on clichés about rich women and Monica’s blond good looks. You’ve had a bad string of luck with women.”

      When he opened his mouth to object, she raised her hand. “Don’t worry. I won’t bring up the elephant in the room.”

      The elephant in the room was that Noah had always chosen women who had an uncanny resemblance to Monica, and who were just as wealthy.

      It confounded him that he would choose women like her. “That’s all been nothing more than coincidence.”

      “Really? Deirdre? New Orleans? A dead ringer for Monica.”

      Noah was angry instantly. He’d put a lot of energy into forgetting Deirdre and her betrayal. He didn’t need Audrey bringing it up now.

      “Don’t go there, Audrey.”

      “Deirdre might have looked like Monica, but Monica is nothing like that woman.”

      “Okay, so I showed poor judgment. I won’t again. Okay?”

      Unfazed by his anger, Audrey urged, “Everybody underestimates Monica. Just don’t let your bias have you judging her wrongly.”

      Both Audrey and Noah had been on the receiving end of the false assumptions that people made based on flimsy evidence—Audrey because of the way she chose to dress in retro forties and fifties clothing, and Noah because of the same thing—the way he chose to dress—and also because of the green, organic lifestyle he lived. He would probably fit in better in a big city than in rural Colorado.

      But in Colorado, he got to grow things, to plant seeds and produce something out of nothing that could feed those in need...and it was the best feeling on earth.

      In high school, he and Audrey had bonded as the misfits who didn’t dress like others. They’d been best buds ever since.

      “Noah, you weren’t too hard on her, were you?”

      With one hand, he wrestled his empty Mason jar into his cooler bag, avoiding her gaze. “I wasn’t patient with her,” he admitted, but, compelled to defend himself continued, “For Pete’s sake, Audrey, every time I look at her I still get tongue-tied. When she showed up at the farm this morning, I actually stuttered!”

      Her eyebrows shot up. “That bad? Still?”

      “Yeah. It’s still that bad. When’s the last time you heard me stutter? It’s like I’m thirteen years old again! And for what? For a spoiled, ditzy blonde.” So, yeah, he’d been harsh, but that was a whole lot better than stuttering.

      “Noah, don’t call her names. You forget that Monica is family,” Audrey admonished.

      Chastened, he calmed himself and said, “I do. I often forget. I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve never understood how you two could be so different and yet get along so well.”

      “First, it’s because she’s not quite who you think she is, and second, because we both lost our mothers when we were so young. Mine when I was five, but poor Monica in childbirth. She never even knew hers.”