That was it. Just that line. Tell her what? Who was Anna? I sifted through the letters and cards looking for anything from an Anna. There was a card signed by an Ana. All she wrote was, “Noelle, Our family adores you! Ana.” Spelled differently from the Anna in Noelle’s letter. No surname. No date. There was a picture of a little boy attached to the card with tape, and when I pulled it off I saw a name written on the back: Paul Delaney.

No idea how to tell you.

The letter was old. The peach-colored paper was soft with age. What could it possibly matter now?

I shrugged off the unfinished letter and continued making my way through the pile, nibbling my scone and sipping my Earl Grey. It wasn’t until I reached the bottom of the stack that I found another partial letter Noelle had written, this one typed. It was a bit crumpled. I remembered needing to flatten it when I first stacked the letters. I read it, sucking in my breath and forgetting to let it out again, and I stood so quickly, so violently, that I knocked my cup of tea to the floor.



13

Noelle


UNC Wilmington

1988

The second day after the freshmen filled the Galloway dormitory, Noelle made her rounds, saving Room 305 for last the way she saved the blueberries for last in her fruit salad each morning because they were her favorite. She never felt anxious about those blueberries, though, and she was definitely feeling anxious about Room 305.

In the hallway, she heard laughter coming from the room even before she neared the open doorway. They were bonding, the two girls. Emerson McGarrity and Tara Locke. She knocked on the doorjamb, peering inside. The girls were sitting on the bed closest to the window, culling through a stack of record albums. They looked up at her and she knew immediately which one was Tara—the brown-eyed blonde—and which one was Emerson. Her hair was long, dark and curly. Noelle knew exactly how hard it would be to pull a comb through that hair.

“Hi.” She smiled. “I’m Noelle Downie, your Resident Assistant. I’m making the rounds to get to know everyone.”

The blonde hopped to her bare feet and held out a hand. “I’m Tara,” she said.

Noelle shook the girl’s hand, then turned her attention to Emerson, who had a stack of records in her lap and didn’t bother to get up. Noelle had to lean forward to shake her hand. “Emerson?” she asked.

“Right.” She had a nice smile, warm and encouraging, and Noelle had a hard time letting go of her hand.

“You want to sit?” Tara motioned to the desk chair and Noelle was surprised at her need to drop into it, her knees suddenly too soft to hold her upright.

“I could hear you two laughing like you’ve been friends for a long time,” she said. “Did you know each other before you got here?”

They laughed again and looked at each other. “It only feels that way,” Tara said. Of the two of them, she was clearly the more outgoing. You could see it in her bright eyes, hear it in the self-assured volume of her voice.

“We clicked right away,” Emerson said. “I mean, we talked on the phone once over the summer about what we were bringing and everything, but we didn’t know each other at all, really.”

“And then when we met yesterday it was like we’d known each other forever,” Tara said. “We stayed up all night talking.”

“That’s super,” Noelle said. “Doesn’t always work out that way.” Doesn’t always last, either, she thought. She hoped it did work out for these two. Already, she wanted everything good for Emerson. Her feelings scared her; they were so visceral, so deep. She had to watch what she said and did. She could lose herself too easily here in this room. She had to treat Emerson no differently than she did the other students.

She glanced at the dressers. Framed photographs stood on each of them. Testing her legs, she got to her feet and picked up one of a young man with dark hair so long it brushed his shoulders. He looked familiar. He had a symmetrically shaped face and that combination of blue eyes and black hair that was hard to forget. “Who’s this guy?” she looked from Emerson to Tara.

“Sam,” Tara said. “My boyfriend. He’s here. Prelaw.” She sounded proud of him. “He lives off campus.”

“Ah,” Noelle said. “I think I’ve seen him around. Will it be good to be closer to him?”

“Hell, yes.” Tara laughed as though it had been a stupid question and Noelle supposed it had been, but she was not thinking as clearly as she usually did.

“He cut his hair over the summer so he looks totally different now,” Tara said.

Noelle picked up the photograph from the second dresser. It was the one she was really after. The blueberries in her fruit salad. A family shot. Emerson with a man and woman. The woman’s hair was short, auburn, frizzy. She had a wide, wide smile and she looked young. Mid-to late thirties, maybe. Noelle looked at Emerson. “Your parents?” she asked.

“Uh-huh. No boyfriend, yet.” She laughed. “Gotta get me one of them.”

“Where do they live?” She was having trouble taking her eyes off the face of the woman.

“California.”

“California!” Could she be wrong? “So…Wilmington is… You haven’t lived here before?” It was a weird question to ask and she knew it as soon as it left her mouth, but Emerson didn’t seem to notice.

“Actually, I lived here until my sophomore year of high school and then my dad got transferred to Greensboro, so I finished high school there. Then in July, he got transferred to L.A., but I wanted to stay in North Carolina. I love Wilmington.”

“And I’m from Wake Forest,” Tara volunteered.

Noelle forced herself to put the photograph back on Emerson’s dresser. “Where did you get your name?” she asked Emerson.

“My mother’s maiden name,” Emerson said.

Yes, Noelle thought. Yes. “Well, tell me more about your families,” she said, sitting down again. She hadn’t asked that question of any of the other students. With them, she’d talked about their schedules, their majors, their interests. But she would make this conversation sound like her usual getting-to-know-you drill.

Tara went first, as she’d expected her to. Her father was an accountant, her mother a homemaker, and she was an only child.

“Me, too,” Emerson piped in.

No, you’re not, Noelle thought to herself.

Tara could talk a blue streak. She was a theater major, which didn’t surprise Noelle a bit. In any other circumstance, Noelle would have found her intriguing—her energy, her extroversion—but right now, she was desperate for Emerson to have her turn.

“So you’re an only child, too,” she said, when she was finally able to shift the focus back to Emerson.

“Yeah. My mom’s a nurse and my dad’s in sales for this big furniture company.”

A nurse! “I’m a nursing major,” she blurted out. This is not about you, she reminded herself. Yet this conversation was entirely about her and she knew it. She glanced at the photograph of Emerson’s parents again, drawn to the woman and her wide smile. “Will they visit you here sometime, do you think, or will you be going to California to see them instead?”

“Right now they’re gaga over California,” Emerson said, “but my grandparents live in Jacksonville, so they’ll have to come back to North Carolina sometime.”

Noelle’s heart gave a thud. Grandparents. She thought of the manila folder she had in her room down the hall—one thing of her mother’s that she had kept for herself. “Your mother’s parents or your father’s?” Was she sounding like a nutcase? She hadn’t asked any other student about her grandparents. Why would she?

“My mother’s,” Emerson said. “My father’s parents are both dead.”

“I’ve got all of mine,” Tara said. “But they all live in Asheville where my parents grew up, so I hardly ever see them.”

“That’s a shame,” Noelle said. “You’ll have to try to visit them sometime soon.” She swept her attention back to Emerson, hoping she didn’t seem as rude as she felt. “Any other interesting names in your family?” she asked. “What’s your father’s name?”

“Plain old Frank,” Emerson said.

Tara was frowning. Noelle could see her expression out of the corner of her eye. Tara wasn’t exactly on to her—who could possibly figure out what she was up to? But Noelle was afraid Tara was beginning to think the Resident Assistant was not all there. Yet she had the answer she needed. She had all the answers now, and she couldn’t stay in the room another second. Something was going to burst inside her if she did.

She looked at her watch. “Whoa,” she said, “I’ve been here way too long! I need to move on but wanted to get to know you two. We’ll have a hall meeting tomorrow night with cake and games, so make sure you’re around.” She stood, holding on to the back of the desk chair because she felt wobbly. “Meantime, if you have any questions or problems, you know where my room is, right?”

“Right,” Tara said.

“Thanks for stopping by,” Emerson added.

Noelle made it out the door before she had to lean against the wall to hold herself up. From Room 305, she could hear giggling, then Tara whispering to Emerson, “I think she’s totally in love with you.”

She was not far off.

Back in her room, she dialed Miss Wilson’s house and was relieved when her mother answered. “I need to talk to you, Mama,” she said. “Seriously talk.”

“Are you all right?” Her mother sounded breathless as if she’d run to answer the phone.

“I’m fine.” Noelle sat down on her bed, not fine at all. “Do you have time?”

“Hold on.” Her mother left the phone and Noelle could hear the clank of dishes. Then she was on the line again. “I’m back. What’s wrong?”