Page 85 of Intermission

“Oh. Um . . . thank you.”

Mom stares at me for a long moment, and I sense our conversation is about to change direction. I only hope it moves in the direction I desire.

“If you’re with Noah,” Mom says slowly, “I expect you to be out inthe open, not cuddled up on the sofa in somebody’s dark basement.”

“Okay.” My heartbeat jolts... and then takes off like a racehorse. Mom’s going to let me see Noah? In person?

“And absolutely no funny business.”

“None.”

Mom turns to slide a freshly dusted book onto the shelf. “And I don’t want him here.”

“What?” I turn away from the book shelf with the book still in my hand. “You don’t even want to meet him?”

“I’m giving you a little latitude, Faith. Not an endorsement. Please don’t let me down.”

Right. Okay. “I won’t.”

“You’re on a very short leash.”

“Got it. But I think he’d like to meet you.”

“These are my terms for allowing you to continue thisfriendship. Take it or leave it.”

I nod. Swallow. I’ll take it.

It takes two more hours to finish the project in the study. After lunch, Mom announces we’re finished cleaning for the day because she has a hair appointment in Sommerton.

“Mom?” I ask tentatively, not wanting to seem too eager. “Can I call Noah and see if he wants to hang out?”

Mom sighs. “I suppose. Just remember my terms. You are friends only. No funny business.”

It’s a nice day, so we decide to meet at the waterfall. Out in the open. Just like Mom said. For once, I beat him there and wait near the waterfall’s ledge, but facing the trail. When Noah rounds the corner, it’s all I can do not to run and throw myself in his arms.

But I can’t. That would be romantic. And wonderful.

It’s harder than I thought it would be. For both of us, I think. A simple touch of the hand, Noah’s arm around my shoulders, a hug... affection is so natural, so comfortable between us. It takes a conscious effort to avoid it.

We walk up and down the creek bank until our shoes are wet and muddied. When we return to the waterfall, we rinse our shoes in the creek and then sit on a dry spot on the upper level of the waterfall’s ledge to soak up the sun.

It’s a gorgeous day. Wildflowers have sprung up all over the woods. The trees and grasses have greened up. Spring at the waterfall is a world of beauty unto itself.

I point at the bank behind Noah. “Do you know what those flowers are called?”

He leans back for a closer look. “Uhh... no.”

“They’re called Dutchman’s breeches. You see how the blossoms are formed? They look like a pair of billowy knickers turned upside-down.”

“Billowy knickers?” Noah laughs and wrinkles his nose. “That sounds like something straight out ofJane Eyreor one of those other works of classic literature Ms. Whetstein tortured me with in high school.”

“Torture? I readJane Eyrein Honors English last year. I loved it.”

“Really?” He makes a comically horrified face. “I had to read it again for a lit class this spring. Trust me. It was torture.”

I bring my open palm across the water, splashing it toward him, but only a few drops actually touch his clothes. “How dare you disparage the reputation of my Jane!”

“YourJane?” He blinks and looks up the creek where my dog is exploring. “Nuh-uh. Your dog is not named afterJane Eyre.”