Noah (Angel Institute #7)

Chapter 19

Nineteen

NOAH

T he familiar scents of cumin and chili powder greet me at the door to Casa Rameriz. Normally, my mouth would water with anticipation; instead, I have a rock in my gut. My parents wanted to take me out to lunch today and drove into town. I have no idea why they came or why they even bother with me.

I had a thought last night as I took the guest bed out to the garage. I could see why they want me to do the practical thing; they think it will protect me. They felt like they had to protect me from myself, and then I felt that way, too. I don’t feel that way anymore, though, and I’m afraid my tolerance for their parenting style is at an all-time low at the moment. I’m not sure sharing a meal with them is a good idea. But they called, and I don’t want to cut them out of my life.

The restaurant is a riot of color and sound, with vibrant murals adorning the walls and the lively strains of Mariachi music filling the air. My parents are already seated at a booth near the back, their postures stiff and out of place among the relaxed diners around them. My father is impeccably dressed in a tailored suit that seems excessive for a casual lunch, while my mother fidgets with her pearl necklace, her eyes darting around the restaurant as if searching for any familiar faces she hopes won’t see her in a place that sets chips and salsa on the table before the meal.

As I approach, my father’s sharp gaze locks onto me, his lips curving into what I suppose is meant to be a smile, but comes across more as a grimace. “Noah,” he says, his voice carrying that familiar note of disapproval. “You’re late.”

I glance at my watch, noting that I’m actually two minutes early, but I bite back the retort. Instead, I slide into the booth across from them, the worn leather seat creaking slightly under my weight. I force a smile. “Hi, Mom, Dad. Merry Christmas.”

My mother reaches across the table, patting my hand in a gesture that feels more perfunctory than affectionate. “You look thin.”

I refrain from rolling my eyes. “So do you.” I give her a cheeky grin. She giggles and smacks my hand as if I’ve given her the compliment of a lifetime.

“Welcome to Casa Ramirez.” I look up to see Kylie, the owner’s daughter, beaming at us. Her warm smile falters slightly as she takes in my parents’ stiff demeanor, but she rallies admirably. “Can I start you off with some drinks?”

My father waves her off dismissively. “Just water for the table,” he says, not even bothering to look at her.

I wince at his rudeness. “Actually,” I interject, “I’ll have a soda, please. And maybe some chips and salsa to start?”

Kylie’s smile returns full force. “Coming right up,” she says, bouncing away.

As soon as she’s out of earshot, my mother leans forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “We need to talk about this... situation with that Paige girl.”

I feel my defenses immediately rise. “What about Paige?” I ask, trying to keep my voice level. There’s no way they could know how much Paige means to me. A lion of protection rises up inside of me. They will not touch her, none of her. I don’t care what the cost is. I’ll take the scrapes, cuts, and bruises of a fight with my parents if it means keeping Paige safe.

My father jumps in, his tone is patronizing. “This girl seems to have you wrapped around her finger. Organizing parades as if you’re some socialite... it’s not like you.”

“That’s the point,” I say.

They barrel on as if I hadn’t spoken. “And now we hear she’s planning some sort of... influencer trip?” My mother says the word ‘influencer’ like it's something distasteful.

“How do you know about that?” I ask.

“Really, Noah. Do you think I wouldn’t look her up?” She lifted one perfectly arched brow at me. I am an artist, and I don’t think I could draw my eyebrows as well as she does.

“What kind of future can you have with someone so... flighty?” Her tone, as she says the word flighty , is the same one she used all those years to describe me.

They’re trying to protect me. I know it. Although, knowing that doesn’t take the sting out of their words, nor does it make my lion retreat.

Kylie chooses that moment to return with our drinks and appetizers. The interruption gives me a moment to collect my thoughts, to push down the anger bubbling up inside me. I want to respond to them in a kind way, without giving up any ground. Doing so is a new skill I need to learn, and I’m grasping inside of myself to find the right words.

The chips and salsa arrive in colorful, hand-painted bowls. The salsa is vibrant red, flecked with bits of cilantro and diced onion. The aroma of fresh tomatoes and spicy jalape?os wafts up, making my mouth water despite my agitation.

As Kylie bustles away again, my father leans forward, his voice low and intense. “Noah, you need to think about this logically. You and this girl... you’re from different worlds. She’s always chasing the next big thing, while you... well, you’ve always been more of a homebody.”

“Maybe that’s why we work so well together,” I say finally. “We balance each other out.”

My mother makes a noise that’s somewhere between a scoff and a sigh. “Oh, honey,” she says, reaching across the table to pat my hand again. “That’s not balance. That’s a recipe for disaster. You remember what happened with Sarah in college, don’t you?”

The mention of my college girlfriend brushed over my skin like seaweed. I wasn’t in love with her, but my parents seem to think she broke my heart. Sarah wasn’t right for me. I think I dated her because I knew they would like her. She felt the lack of connection and broke things off. I wasn’t even sad about it.

“Paige isn’t Sarah,” I say firmly.

“No, she’s not,” he agrees. “She’s worse. At least Sarah had a real career. This Paige... running around with a camera, calling herself an ‘influencer’... it’s not a stable future, Noah. And when she realizes that, who do you think she’ll leave behind?”

I clamp my lips together to stop myself from telling them she invited me on the trip. I’m still not sure I’ll go. Spring is the time that I pack up the rental trailer. If I’m not here to do the work, the city will revoke my license the following year. It’s part of the contract I signed with them when I started the business. Until now, there was no reason to think I wouldn’t be around. I’ve been considering asking for an extension or closing early. The thing is, I’d need the money to make the trip, and closing early would mean I wouldn’t have enough to make it through the rest of the year. There are a whole lot of unknowns that I’m working through.

My dad would smell those like blood in the water.

“You’re jumping to conclusions,” I say, though I don’t think I sound as convincing as I want to be. “Paige is not unstable. She’s one of the most steady people I know.” Especially emotionally. She’s so level in that area that she manages to level me out.

My mother lets out a delicate snort. “Oh, Noah,” she says, her voice dripping with condescension. “Don’t be na?ve. If she really cared about you, she’d be here, building a life with you. Face it, dear. You’re just a placeholder until something better comes along.”

I feel as if all the air has been sucked out of the restaurant, leaving only the echo of my mother’s cruel words.

Part of me wants to stand up, to shout at them, to defend Paige and our relationship.

I’m stuck in my chair. The parts of me that I thought were healed from this kind of abuse are back. They’re not as strong, but I feel their hold, and I’m struggling not to let my parents’ words hold me like icy tendrils.

As I sit there, letting their words grip me, something strange happens. A memory surfaces unbidden. It’s Will, his face alight with that inexplicable inner glow, telling me that I am loved, that God cares about me. I remember the warmth that filled me at his words, the sense of peace and rightness that settled over me.

And suddenly, the contrast between that feeling and how I feel now, listening to my parents, becomes startlingly clear. Where Will’s words had lifted me up, my parents’ words are designed to tear me down. Where Will had spoken of love and potential, my parents speak only of fear and limitations.

I step out of myself and look—really look at my parents. Their perfect clothes, their practiced smiles, their carefully crafted words—it all a facade, a brittle shell hiding their own insecurities and fears. They’re not speaking the truth, I realize. They’re projecting their own unhappiness, their own limited worldview onto me.

My father, with his perpetual frown and tightly clenched jaw, radiates tension and dissatisfaction. My mother, beneath her polished exterior, seems small and afraid, her eyes darting around as if constantly seeking approval.

They’re miserable, I realize, with a start. And they’re trying to make me miserable, too.

I’m not even sure they know they’re doing it.

This epiphany washes over me like a wave, clearing away the doubt and fear their words had planted. I don’t want to live like that , I think. I don’t want to be so afraid of life that I try to clip the wings of those around me.

I think of Paige, of her boundless enthusiasm and her ability to find joy in small things. I think of the way she challenges me and pushes me to be better and to dream bigger. And I know, with a certainty that fills me from head to toe, that what we have is real and valuable, regardless of what my parents think.

“Enough,” I say, my voice quiet but firm. My parents fall silent, looking at me in surprise. “I appreciate your concern,” I continue, “but you’re wrong about Paige. You’re wrong about me. And you’re wrong about what makes life worth living.”

My father’s face darkens with anger, but for once, I don’t flinch away. “Now listen here, Noah—” he starts.

I cut him off. “No, you listen,” I say, surprised by the steadiness in my voice. “Paige isn’t running away from me or from our relationship. She’s pursuing her dreams, and while I’m not sure yet if I’ll be going with her, I support her completely. We may not have what you think a relationship should be, but it’s ours. And I won’t sit here and let you try to tear it apart.”

My mother gasps, her hand flying to her throat. “What’s wrong with our marriage?”

I shake my head, a small smile playing on my lips. I won’t be dragged into her drama. “Paige and I are still figuring things out. But this opportunity for her, this chance to see the world and grow... that’s important, too. And I’m not going to let fear dictate our choices.”

My father’s face is turning an alarming shade of red. “This is ridiculous,” he sputters. “You’re considering throwing away everything for some...”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” I say with so much ice in my voice it coats the table. “You will not say another word against her.” I stand up. “I’m choosing happiness. And if you can’t understand that, if you can’t be happy for me, then... well, that’s your loss.”

I pull out my wallet, dropping enough cash on the table to cover dinner I didn’t order, let alone eat. “I hope someday you can understand. But even if you don’t, I’m going to live my life. And I’m going to live it my way.”

As I make my way to the door, I catch Kylie’s eye. She gives me a warm smile and a thumbs up, and I smile back.

I push open the door of Casa Ramirez, the cool night air hitting my face. The street is quiet, the Christmas lights twinkling softly in the darkness. I take a deep breath, feeling a sense of peace settle over me.

I may not have all the answers yet; Paige and I still have a lot to figure out. But for the first time, I’m okay with that uncertainty. Because whatever comes next, I know I can face it. I’ve overcome so much in such a short time that I feel different.

This is a Christmas I will never forget. My phone rings, and I recognize someone from the parade committee. I answer with a smile. I’m ready to see this parade through and share the joy it’s brought me with the rest of Benton Falls.