Page 108 of Intermission

“I didn’t plan to kiss you,” he whispers against my hair a few breathless moments later. “But I’m awfully glad I did.”

His lips find mine again, briefly, and then press against my forehead, where I feel his smile fall.

“What is it?”

“I love you, Madeleine Faith. This is... it’s going to be excruciating.”

I nod. “I know.”

“Twoyears.” He groans. “We won’t text. We won’t call. We won’t... anything.”

“On the bright side, I guess I’m usually grounded from that stuff anyway. Do you want to take it back? Stay in touch? Even though my parents won’t let us?”

“Of course Iwantto.”

“But?”

“But I’m afraid it will just make things harder for you here. In two years, when you’re on your own, we can just... be. Without prejudice. They still might not like it—maybe I’ll never win them over, even then. But... it’s the right thing to do.” Noah clears his throat. “In two years, you’ll be out from under their control and free to be with me. If you stillwantto be with me.”

“OfcourseI’ll still want to be with you. When 8:17 comes on August ninth, I’ll be here. Even if...” I have to say it. “Even if you’re not.”

Noah opens his mouth to argue, but I put a finger to his lips.

“I love you, Noah. But the right thing to do is to set you free.” The last few words come out strained. “If the opportunity comes, if someone works her way into your heart, I want you to consider yourself free to fall in love. To stay in London, if that’s what makes you happy. I won’t hold it against you. If August ninth rolls around two years from now, and I hike up here, but you don’t come, I’ll know. And I’ll be...” I take a trembling breath. “I’ll be happy for you.”

Noah inhales. Exhales. The quiver in his breath matches my own. When he finally speaks, his voice is thick. “I don’t know what the future will bring, Faith. Not for either one of us. I can’t imagine loving anyone else. And although it’s hard to picture you with anyone but me, I suppose we can’t rule it out.”

“No, we can’t.” But my heart doesn’t want to listen to reason right now.

“Okay, so... we’re agreed on the future, but—just for tonight—let’s let it go. Tomorrow will come soon enough. Tonight, I want to be right here, right now, in this moment with my Madeleine Faith.”

“Right here, right now.”Always, my heart vows, almost as if daring my brain to disagree. But the only other discernible word swimming around in my mind isforever.

We walk the dry creek bed for a while, hand in hand. Eventually, we return to our perch on the waterfall’s ledge and go on with our evening as if tomorrow is not the end, as if we haven’t just made the most painful promise of our lives.

We talk about the theatre, about what Noah will see in London, and his hopes of being able to afford a trip to see his family in the Czech Republic over the holidays. We discuss the pros and cons of the various shows Mr. Barron is deciding between for the KHS fall musical this year, and whether or not I’ll go out for the Leopold Community Theatre again. But even with all the topics we cover, time passes too quickly.

“We should probably go.” Noah says. “It’s after ten.”

Pain grips my throat. I croak, “What time do you leave?”

“My flight departs at 8:10. Mac is driving me to the airport in Moline. We’re leaving at five.”

“I wish I could go with to see you off.”

“If you were there, I might not be able to get on the plane.”

Tears well, hot and weighted with love. “I wouldmakeyou get on the plane.”

Noah stands and pulls me to my feet. Without verbal agreement, we head back up the creek.

I whistle for Janey, and even though the weak breath barely makes a sound, she comes. Just shy of the place where we need to ascend opposite sides of the creek bank, we pause.

“No matter what happens two years from now or in between,” Noah says, pressing my hand to his lips, “I will never regret meeting you, Madeleine Faith Prescott. I will never regret a single moment I spent with you, or even thinking about you. I will never regret loving you.”

I just nod. I can’t speak, but I trust he knows the meaning of—and cherishes—the singular tear that spills down my cheek as my silent agreement with every word.

Noah wipes the tear from my cheek with his thumb. Lifting my chin, he kisses me slowly, reverently.