He stayed on our porch long after sunset.
He always knew when I was pretending not to be upset.
Sometimes our eyes met after Gracie said something funny, and it felt as though we shared a language that belonged only to us.
I waited for him to say something.
He never did.
The Velvet Box
Then, one Sunday when I was twenty-two, Noah arrived carrying a small velvet box.
My heart rose so quickly that I became dizzy.
He stood on the porch wearing a blue shirt.
Nervous.
Pale.
For one impossible second, I thought every secret hope I had carried since seventeen was about to come true.
“Can I talk to Gracie?” he asked.
I stared at him.
“Gracie?”
“Is she in the garden?”
I stepped aside.
From the kitchen window, I watched Noah walk between the tomato plants.
Gracie was wearing gardening gloves and talking to the flowers as though she expected them to answer.
