“That’s part of it,” I nodded. “When he got sick, I used to bring him out here. I used to sit and keep an eye on him. Make sure he was… well…”
Noah turned and slid an arm around me. I huddled in, hugging his ribs. The warmth and reassurance of his body made me feel immeasurably better.
“It’s just so sad to see it like this,” I said, “after all the work we put in. It was so beautiful.”
“It’ll be like that again,” Noah promised. “One thing at a time.”
He’d been so sweet all night, from dinner and even afterwards. Cuddling me on the couch. Playing with my hair. Making me feel ten times better about the theft of our supplies, while casually staying up late enough to keep checking on the rest of them.
“Why do you like this place so much?” I asked.
“It’s a garden,” he shrugged.
“So?”
“Ever been to Brooklyn?” he smirked. “Not much in the way of gardens. My mother always wanted one, though. She took us to the park every chance she could. But even then, you were always surrounded by concrete. Constantly reminded you were still in a big city, and not a place like…” he waved his arm grandly, “this.”
“I could see that,” I admitted.
“Plus, you’re from California. Everything’s beautiful over there. You said you were on the coast?”
“Sunset beach.”
He laughed. “A surfer girl.”
“Damned right,” I confirmed. “Every day.”
I thought longingly back to my surfboard, and my little beige Jeep. To how many mornings I’d seen dawn while floating weightlessly in the ocean, the water swirling around me, waiting for the next good break.
“And yet you came here,” said Noah. “To live in a castle, in Scotland.”
“There’s always Portobello beach,” I said, reaching.
“In Edinburgh?”
I nodded. “Water’s icy cold though. Waves are choppy. Rideable sometimes, but nothing decent.”
“You haven’t even tried, have you?”
I shook my head into the crook of his arm. “No.”
We walked some more, stopping near the back end of the garden. The broken statue of a woman presided over a small flagstone circle, missing both arms and one leg. It was flanked by a pair of ancient stone benches, worn smooth with time.
“Tell me how a surfer girl from Cali ends up in a castle in Scotland,” said Noah. “I’m curious.”
He sat down, then pulled me into his lap. Sitting there in the moonlight, his big arms wrapped around me, everything just felt right.
“Well I lost my father at a very young age,” I said. “When I was only seven.”
As I paused in reflection, Noah shook his head. “Damn, that sucks.”
“Yeah. I do remember him, though. “Good man, kind smile.” I was staring off into space. “Very handsome, too.”
Noah squeezed my thigh, causing me to look back at him. “Honey, that goes without saying.”
I giggled appreciatively. “Anyway, I was raised by my mother and two older sisters, which made me the forgotten child. Everything I did was never a first, so it was never important to anyone. It’d already been done twice before, and with my father no less, so it was never as special.”
“So you’re rebelling?” asked Noah. “Is that it?”