Runaway Pt. 01

If God wanted Noah to be forgiven, He could forgive Noah Himself.

The bus was already waiting at the terminal when I got my ticket sorted out. The back of the bus had the most people, so I sat near the front and plopped my backpack onto the seat next to me. I had bought a cheap pair of earbuds at the London Drugs in Edmonton, something that seemed like a distant memory by then, plugged them into my phone, and closed my eyes.

I spent the entire bus ride trying not to think about Noah. Of course, that meant he was the only thing I could think of.

Why had he been so distressed about giving up his jacket? I understood that Noah didn't have much in the way of money, but still. It was a jean jacket, one that had certainly seen many better days. The denim was faded in spots, patches on the elbows almost completely worn through. The fabric hung off his body loosely, a few sizes too large for him.

The look in his eyes when Pauline had demanded it from him was pure anguish. I could see his face in my mind clearly, pinched in distress, his eyes wildly begging her to ask anything else of him.

I'd given up my necklace for him. It had been instinct, something that flared up in me when I saw that expression. Despite him lying to me, I didn't want him to see him hurt. I was certainly sad about losing my cross, but it didn't torment me the way the threat of losing his jacket did to Noah.

Maybe it was a good thing Pauline had taken it. It was a symbolic moment of growth, a literal and figurative breaking of chains. The mountains had laid the foundation for me to understand that. God was not in control of my life, no more than anyone else was in control of my life. The lessons I learned growing up about forgiveness and loving thy neighbour and doing the right thing were there as guidelines for being a good person. How I used those lessons was up to me.

He wanted me to do the right thing, but He would forgive me when I didn't.

Kind of like how I wanted Noah to do the right thing. If God would forgive Noah, I should follow His example.

I squeezed my eyes shut even tighter. I didn't want to learn that lesson. I wanted to keep being mad at Noah.

I tried to think of Sean instead. In only a few days, I would get to see my brother again. It had been nearly ten years, and I tried to imagine what he might look like. I couldn't seem to picture what the scrawny boy of seventeen would have grown into.

The thoughts about what Sean would look like caused my mind to wander back to Noah. He and Sean were about the same age, and I started wondering what Noah would have looked like growing up. Had he always had long, scruffy hair? Were his shoulders always so broad? Had he always been so tall?

I kicked myself mentally, my cheeks flushing. I was angry at Noah, no matter how attractive he was. No matter how he had hugged me when I cried, how warm his body was curled up against mine that night on the train...

I kicked myself mentally again.

I went back to Sean. He had promised to pick me up from the train station when I got there. What happened after that, I didn't know. My father had stopped trying to call and I had no idea if my parents would even welcome me back home. Perhaps if I repented and begged their forgiveness, my father would consider it.

The problem was that it would be a lie. I couldn't be forgiven for something I felt I was right about.

That was the key, right there. Deep down, underneath my racing mind trying to interpret God's mysterious signs and wondering if I was doing the right thing, I knew I couldn't be forgiven for running away.

Noah had said it best. I wasn't running away. I was running to something better.

I spent the last part of the bus ride praying. I went through the list of saints Delilah had taught me all those years ago, praying to any of them that might be able to help me. I asked for Saint Ignatius to help make sure my decisions were good. I asked God—begged God—to work in normal ways, to make His signs a little clearer. Both Saint Christopher and Saint Michael heard prayers for protection. And for Noah, I prayed to Saint Maria Goretti, hoping wherever he was, she would watch over him.

My hand reached instinctively for the cross around my neck as the bus stopped in Edmonton. A tiny knot of pain curled around my heart when I remembered it wasn't there.

The lady at the station in Hinton had said the bus would take me right to the train station in Edmonton, but that was a bit of an exaggeration. The bus terminal was about three kilometers away, but there was a shuttle leaving every fifteen minutes that would bring me over. The shuttle driver directed me to leave my backpack beside the van and he'd put it in the back. I did exactly as he said and climbed in alongside a couple of other people.

I say this because I want to make it clear that I did exactly as I was told. Backpack beside the van, driver would put it in the back.

There were a few things I can admit were my fault. I shouldn't have left my wallet in the bag. I shouldn't have left my phone in the bag. I should have watched him put the bag into the van, because when we arrived at the train station, it wasn't there.

"Is it in another shuttle?" I asked desperately.

The driver shook his head. "This is the only one. We go back and forth from the station to the terminal all day."

"Can you call over? See if someone has it?"

He did, but shook his head at me after a few moments. "Sorry, miss."

"It can't be gone. It can't."

"I can take you back to the terminal if you want."

I might have shaken my head before walking away, but a haze had settled over me. All I knew was I sank down on a bench, much like I had in Winnipeg, and stared aimlessly in front of me.

If I had just forgiven Noah, he would have been there with me and stopped me from doing something so stupid.

Uncharacteristically, I hadn't cried after running away from Noah earlier that day. I hadn't cried on the bus. Instead, I waited until I was sitting alone at a train station before bursting into tears like a crazy person.

I was very aware that people were sidestepping around my bench, refusing to acknowledge the sobbing woman with her head in her hands. I didn't blame them. Nobody wants to deal with the emotional breakdown of a person they don't know. No matter how hard I tried to tell myself to pull it together, I couldn't seem to stop crying.

Losing my wallet meant I had no money, no way to get another ticket, no way to get food. Losing my phone meant I could only call one phone number for help, since I couldn't remember Sean's. Losing my backpack meant defeat.

It meant I was wrong.

It meant that I was interpreting God's mysterious ways incorrectly.

Or it meant that He had heard my prayer for more obvious signs. It meant that when Noah came strolling up to me holding my backpack, I was to forgive him.

It was the soft nudge of my bag tilting against my calf that made me take my head from my hands. I looked down at it and gasped, lunging forward to grab it. When I looked up, tears still staining my cheeks, Noah was already walking away.

"Wait!"

He kept moving and I scrambled to catch up with him.

"Noah, please. Wait one second."

He stopped but didn't turn to me.

"I didn't take it and I'm not following you." His voice was cold.

"Where did you find it?"

"Saw some kids with it at the bus terminal and took it back, heard some driver ask people to keep an eye out for it, figured you were here."

"Were you on the bus too?"

"Didn't think you'd take the bus," he mumbled. "Saw you get on but didn't want to bother you."

My chin trembled as I looked down. "Thank you."

"Leave you to it, then."

He started away again, heading towards the exit where the shuttle was waiting.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"North."

Another knot of pain clamped around my heart. I would never see Noah again if he went north. I would never speak to him again if I didn't do it right that second.

"Noah, I'm sorry."

He stopped, pausing before turning back towards me, his body tense. When he finally met my eyes again, the serious grimace on his face softened.

"I'm sorry," I whispered again.

Noah stepped forward, still hesitant.

"For what?"

"For telling you to leave me alone." My voice was shaky, but I hoped he could tell it was genuine. "For not listening to your explanation. For accusing you of putting us in danger."

He cast his eyes to the floor. "Don't need to apologize for that."

"Yes, I do."

He shook his head. "I did all those things. You aren't wrong."

"It doesn't matter. I should have been a better friend."

"I'm the one who needs to apologize," he said. "I lied to you. I'm sorry."

"We both made mistakes."

"No. I'm the fuck up here, not you."

"You're not a... a f-fuck up."

I was surprised steam didn't start rising off my cheeks from how hotly they burned, even though I'd stuttered my way through swearing and had lowered my voice when I said it. Noah looked up, astonished, and I had to press my lips together to keep from laughing at his expression.

"Miss Lacey, did you just—"

"Let's never speak of it again."

He chuckled, a staccato grunt, and tried to hide his smile.

"Shit. You make it hard to stay mad."

I tried to smile back, but I didn't want to say goodbye.

"Are you really going up north?"

The serious expression overtook his smile again.

"Guess so. Was what I was gonna do before I met you."

I had never asked him to come with me. He had decided for me, appointed himself my protector when he realized how far in over my head I was. I had told him he didn't have to come with me, and he had insisted. But when I told him to leave me alone, he had done so without question, only breaking the command to help me yet again. He was there because he wanted to be, but would he stay if I asked him to?

I wanted him to stay with me as much as I needed him to.

"I know I don't really have any right to ask, but will—"

"Yes."

"You don't even know what I was going to say."

"I'll come to Montreal with you."

The relief that flooded me almost brought me to tears again, and I sniffed as I smiled. "Just, no more secrets, okay? And no more stealing."

He nodded solemnly.

"I promise."

**

I hadn't planned on taking that sleeper cabin upgrade.

Really, I hadn't.

But I also hadn't planned on taking a cross-country trip, meeting a man who would change my life, getting stranded in Hinton, sleeping in a car on the side of the road, or having my backpack stolen. I hadn't planned on giving up my necklace, lying to anyone, or ignoring my father's phone calls.

I was feeling like a bit of a different person when I walked up to the ticket counter.

"So, this will get you to Toronto," said the lady. "You'll have to stop off there and get a different line to Montreal. It'll be less expensive to buy your tickets at that time."

"Great," I said. "Also, can you take a look at my customer profile? There should be an upgrade on there."

She tensed up. "Oh, um... I mean, I guess. Was that for... both of you?"

I was sure plenty of people tried to scam their way into an upgrade, but Noah and I weren't them.

"Yep."

Her lips pursed. "I apologize for any confusion. The note says a one-person sleeper cabin."

"There's no chance we could get a cabin for two? Or two one-persons?"

"I really can't make changes to an existing upgrade."

"Not at all?"

"Well, I could put you both in business class instead, if you like."

The person I had been four days earlier would have agreed, maybe even apologized. But the person I was that day was not having it.

"I hope I'm not making things too difficult," I said. "It's just, I would think after I was nearly drugged and assaulted on my trip—where my friend here stepped in to help me, by the way—and then we were both stranded in Hinton and had to take a bus back to Edmonton just to get back on the train, that maybe there would be a way for us to get upgraded to something better than business class."

The lady's face changed as I spoke. She glanced at the computer and clicked a few items, her eyes widening as she looked further into the profile. I imagined the conductor who had helped us originally put in a few more details than she had originally seen because she even started to go a bit pale.

"Miss Stephens, I am so sorry for the experience you've had," she said. She typed quickly, then printed a ticket. "I must have, uh... misread the booking. It says right here that you've been upgraded to a premium suite. My apologies. Please, take a food voucher for your troubles."

I might have imagined it, but I thought Noah looked proud as we walked away from the ticket counter.

We received a few strange looks as we made our way through the cars that housed the sleeper cabins and suites. It wasn't unexpected. Most of the other passengers in those cars were older, cleanly dressed, and clearly well off. Neither Noah or I had showered in at least four days, carried only backpacks, and probably looked a little rough.

I didn't care in the slightest.

When we got to our assigned cabin, I was shocked.

"Oh my gosh," I breathed.

"Holy fuck," Noah blurted.

I didn't even know trains had rooms like that. It was small, of course, but twice as long as any of the other cabins. Instead of the narrow bunk beds I had expected, there was a Murphy bed tucked into the wall. Everything was covered in dark, rich wood. There was even a small chandelier hanging in the middle of the room. It had a leather couch facing a reasonably large TV, a small dining area with fresh flowers on a vase in the middle, and most importantly—

"Oh thank you dear, sweet Jesus." I nearly wept as I opened the door into a private bathroom with a shower stall.

Finally, it seemed like we had caught a break.

I told Noah to use the shower first because I couldn't guarantee I'd be out of it in a reasonable amount of time. While he showered, I explored the suite. There were complimentary snacks in some of the cupboards and I helped myself to some actual fresh fruit for the first time in days.

When Noah exited the bathroom, I was flipping through the channels on the TV and munching on an apple.

"All done?" I asked, glancing over at him.

Instantly, my neck snapped back towards him. Noah's hair was still damp, towelled dry and messy around his face. His skin almost gleamed with cleanliness and he seemed more relaxed than I had ever seen him.

Most noteworthy, however, was the fact that Noah was not wearing his jean jacket.

Noah was not wearing any jacket. Or a shirt.

It's not like I had never seen any man without his shirt on. I didn't live under a rock, obviously, but there was a big difference in seeing a man without a shirt at a swimming pool, for example, and having Noah walk into the room unexpectedly and gloriously half-exposed.

Something I hadn't known about Noah was that he was covered in tattoos. They were beautiful, all intricate drawings and symbols that danced along his skin. Not a single one peeked over the collar of his shirt, so it was surprising to see the scrawling black ink that snaked across his arms, back, and chest.

Oh, and his chest.

That jean jacket hid a lot.

Noah was thin, but not scrawny. His chest muscles were hard and defined, and his shoulders were strong. A few errant drops of water dotted his smooth skin, and a feeling I had never really felt before made me long to lick each drop off of him.

"What the fuck," I whispered, shocked at my own thoughts.

I could feel my entire face going red. Probably my entire neck, chest, and the rest of my body, too. Especially that little spot in my stomach that was fluttering in an almost-enticing way.

"Shit, sorry." Noah grimaced, looking slightly embarrassed. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Uncomfortable was one word for it.

I wasn't stupid. I knew what it was. I had been attracted to men before, but I had never, ever had my body react to someone the way it did to the sight of Noah shirtless.

"It's fine," I said quickly, standing up and almost falling over. I was suddenly very light-headed. "J-Just unexpected. I've never seen you without your jacket on."

He rubbed his neck nervously. I tried not to stare more than I already had.

"Well, I wanted to talk to you about that, actually."

I didn't want to ask him to wait until I'd had a moment to calm myself, or until I got out of the shower.

"Sure," I said.

He nodded, not looking at me. "You asked for no more secrets. It's not a secret, really, but I... You gave up your damn necklace so I could keep it, even though you were pissed at me."

"It's not—"

"I know you lied," he continued. If possible, I turned even redder. "Saw you touch that thing all the time, every time you were nervous or scared or whatever."

"I didn't realize it was so obvious."

"Yeah, well." He smiled tightly. "I'm sorry you lost it because of me."

"It's okay. It was my grandmother's, but if it makes you feel better, she wasn't a very nice person."

That wasn't a lie. Nana was a lot like her son, my father, and I didn't have any overly fond memories of her. I wore that necklace dutifully and while it was a comfort to me, like Noah had said, it was still just a piece of metal.

"I'll replace it for you," he promised. "It might take a while. But I'm gonna get you a new one."

"You don't have to."

"Want to."

I opened my mouth to reply, but he shook his head.

"So the jacket. It's uh, it kinda seems silly to say it out loud. But I've had it almost my whole life. I told you about my dad?"

"You said he died when you were young."

Noah nodded. "Mom looked everywhere for the jacket after he died. Wanted him to be buried in it, I guess. He wore it all the time, one of his favourite things. She realized I'd taken it, had it in my bedroom. Was sleeping with the thing like it was a goddamn security blanket."

He finally met my gaze, a desperate yearning for understanding gleaming deep within his dark eyes.

"Thought she was gonna whoop my ass when she found it. 'Stead she kinda nodded and patted my back. Said Dad would want me to have it but I had to take good care of it."

"I'm glad Pauline took the necklace instead," I said, and I meant it completely.

He shifted slightly. "She, uh, knew the story, obviously." He cleared his throat. "You heard her say how I knew Sam, right?"

I nodded. "You were, um, in prison together?"

"You say it so innocently. Like it was summer camp or some shit." Noah's eyes sparkled as he chuckled. "So, kept in touch with Sam after our stint. Ended up living with him awhile in Hinton. Pauline's his sister, she was around a lot... so uh, there's some... uh, history there."

I looked at him blankly, waiting to hear what the history was. Noah cleared his throat awkwardly.

"You really gonna make me spell it out?"

It took a moment longer, but I figured it out myself.

"Oh. She's your ex-girlfriend?"

"Dunno if I'd call her a girlfriend really, but that's the gist of it, yeah."

My face flamed again as I realized what he meant.

"Oh."

"So that's why she was so shitty towards you. Wasn't too happy with me when I left town."

I nodded, swallowing hard.

"I'm sorry, Lacey."

"It's okay," I said. "I don't even know what you're apologizing for."

"All of it. Not telling you about this before. Letting Pauline take your necklace. She wouldn't've bothered except she felt threatened by you."

"Threatened? By me?"

"You know, like... I dunno, like she thought maybe she and I could get together again or something, then saw you and thought—"

"Me?" I repeated. "She needs her eyes checked. Pauline was terrifying, but even I noticed how... you know, pretty she is."