Seasons of Davenport Ridge: S2E1 – Noelle

NOELLE

I hummed the chorus to “Optimistic” by Sounds of Blackness as I stepped out of my bedroom to head to the kitchen in my home.

My home.

The voices of farmhands in the distance as they communicated with one another made it through my windows, setting the soundtrack for another relaxing day in Morgansville.

I’d made this cottage mine. A simple place on this estate that sat in this middle-of-nowhere town. I made it a home, and it was finally feeling like mine and mine alone.

I lifted my fingertips to the walls, gliding them along the smooth surface as I passed, admiring the soft pink paint that framed the hallway beautifully.

When my sisters and I decided to come out here to Davenport Ridge, the one thing that convinced me to say yes was the idea of living on my own.

An opportunity to live under a roof alone had never presented itself to me until now. I went from living with my parents and sisters to living on my university’s campus with a roommate, to moving into a condo fresh out of college with my boyfriend, then later a penthouse when he became my husband. I’d never had the chance to create a space of my own. 

Now I did, though, and I was loving it.

The ends of my cornrows were in my hand as I gathered and repositioned them over my shoulder the moment I stepped into the kitchen, glancing at the island and at my phone.

I always slept with my phone far away from my bedroom. It was a discipline that very few people could handle. But for me, it helped with not looking at it, checking it every few minutes… especially since I’ve been here.

I liked to call it delayed gratification now more than ever. Because every morning, after leaving my bedroom and walking into my kitchen to brew coffee, my phone would be there, and on it would be a text from my husband, Tyson, whom we all called Ty.  

I went to the coffeemaker and pushed the brew button. No need to add a k-cup or the mug because they were always there. 

Past Noelle had taken the time, like she’s done every night she’s been here, to prepare for future Noelle’s mornings and make them perfect. My sisters teased me about my strict routines, but routines kept the brain at ease. They wouldn’t know anything about that.

As my coffee brewed, I checked over my shoulder at my phone on the island, finding it hard to fight back the smile pulling at my lips.

I hadn’t felt this feeling in years, but I’d been feeling it every day since I’ve been here.

Anticipation.

Dare I say giddiness? But not too much. 

Because this reminded me of the days when Ty and I were cute little freshmen in high school, then seniors in college, and finally months after we’d said ‘I do.’

He used to always leave me sweet notes, which became texts once phones became a thing.

Good morning texts. Can’t wait to see you messages. I miss you so much phone calls.

At some point, all of that gradually came to a stop, replaced by his absence that sometimes had me not seeing my husband for weeks at a time. Once, we almost went an entire month not sleeping in the same bed, and he didn’t see a problem with that at all. Not to repeat it.

This, however, was the longest we’d gone not sharing the same space, breathing the same air, and for once it was my choice. 

He’d been texting again because he’d been trying to figure out where I was, and I wasn’t telling him shit. 

I turned to face the coffeemaker as the last drips of the Columbian medium roast hit my mug. I was back to humming “Optimistic” again as I walked to my cabinet fridge to grab coffee creamer.

My house here at The Ridge was much smaller than our penthouse in Chicago, but its cottage style was perfect for me.

Me now, at least.

I’d set it up to look like what I’d always wanted in a home. Pink and white kitchen, pink and white bedroom, pink and white en suite.

Pink and white, pink and white, pink and gahdamn white.

It was mine, not shared, not created with anyone else in mind, hoping they’d like it too. Just… me.

The sounds of the farm outside my window ushered in a familiar morning again. I’d gotten used to this place and had become comfortable.

Fear and loneliness shadowed my first night here. I’d up and left Chicago while Ty was away on a business trip. I knew I would leave weeks before. My sisters and I had agreed to spend a year in Morgansville to appease our grandmother, which was my sister Cori’s idea. But I hadn’t told Ty a thing, especially not after I’d found a damning text message on his phone and didn’t bother telling him I’d found it. 

I took a sip of my coffee, feeling the bite of the heat against my tongue as I walked the mug to the marble island, setting it down. Calmly reached for my phone, allowing a smile to pull at my lips this time.

Ty started texting like a high school freshman again the day he returned to Chicago from his business trip, which was day three of me being here at Davenport Ridge.

He’d stepped into our penthouse and didn’t see me there. Called, but I didn’t answer the first two times. So he texted.

Ty: Noey, where are you?

Me: Away

Ty: ???

Ty: What do you mean away?

Me: I’m not in Chicago or anywhere near there, and I will not be for a while.

That set off a barrage of phone calls, texts, and voicemails that filled my inbox to the point where there was no space to record new voicemails. 

And I relished it all. His anxiety, his attention, his need for my response. Because for the past few years of our marriage Ty hadn’t cared about any of that and had been consumed with work, traveling for work… and his coworker as showed by a text I read on his phone while he was in the shower after another long day at work. 

Kaydee: Thanks for tonight. You were amazing, as always. I swear you’re my guardian angel and so much more.

For me, that text wasn’t a wound. It was permission. Permission to stop pretending that everything was okay between us when it wasn’t. I’d checked out of our marriage years ago. Because for years I played the understanding wife. The wife who excused cancelations, late-night arrivals, sent to voicemail phone calls, excusing them all as him working hard. And honestly, I was tired of that shit. 

Somewhere within our marriage I’d abandoned myself, and that became clear on my 40th birthday.

I sipped my coffee and looked out in front of me, eyes falling on the furniture I had placed in places I wanted. Everything in this cottage was my idea. I was in every window curtain, every throw pillow, and every glass that lined the shelves behind me. Finally, something I made, and it only took 40 years to do it. 

I felt I needed a change, and Cori’s suggestion that we move out here came just in time. An estate with a farm wouldn’t have been my first pick, and to be honest, I hated it the first few weeks. But… it was something. Because on that 40th birthday I mentioned, I’d woken up in our penthouse alone, with no kids, which I believed I’d have by then. No shared breakfast or plans for a vacation, which I felt were things Ty and I could at least maintain since it was just us. 

No. 

All I had was a chocolate cupcake I’d stuck a candle in and lit, a mind full of regrets instead of birthday wishes to make, and a marriage that didn’t feel lived in after all those years.

Me not having a visceral reaction to seeing that text message on my husband’s phone, or that I didn’t even care to confront him about it, let me know I had to say yes when my sister Cori suggested we move out here. And for my sanity, I told Ty nothing. 

I was used to saying nothing, anyway. I’d said nothing to no one about how unhappy I’d gotten in my marriage, because one, it was my business, and I don’t tell anyone my business, not even my sisters. And two, everyone thought Ty was the perfect husband, and a part of me wanted to still protect that. Because he was charismatic, loved my family, and did perfect little things like remembering birthdays and sending me flowers often. But what people didn’t know was that he scheduled all those things. Everything was simply well-timed. He wasn’t insincere. It took a certain level of care to remember to do a lot of those things, yes. But they were just things to check off, and none of what I wanted. 

I wanted his time.

I wanted him.

And he wanted success.

So I left.

I tapped my phone to wake up the screen, expecting to see a message from Ty, only to see… nothing.

I tilted my head to one side and blinked once, then twice.

Unconvinced that maybe the message didn’t appear on my lock screen but in my message app, I navigated there to see there wasn’t a new message in the text window either.

I scratched my scalp.

His last message was from the day before.

Ty: Good morning, Noey. I hope you’re well. Can you tell me if today will be the day you tell me where you are? I miss you.

I twisted my lips to one side, then bit my lower lip.

Why didn’t he text this morning like he’d been doing every morning since I left? He’d been texting for the past month, letting me know he loved me, checking in on me, informing me he would travel to this state and that state, and missing me the entire way. 

But today, there was nothing. And that immediately brought a frown to my lips.

Was he over the chase already?

“Hmm…” I said to myself.

The moment I felt my mind creating scenarios that would explain why, after weeks of texts, he’d sent nothing that morning, I placed my phone on the island, screen down.

“No,” I said to myself. “You are not about to obsess over why that man did not text you. You will not make this about him.”

For a little over a month, I’d made a home here, not only in this cottage but on this estate. I wasn’t about to touch a single dirt on the farm like Cori, or document my whole life here like Camille. But I had been checking the farm’s books lately. 

Tasked myself with reorganizing paperwork, making notes about operations. I just couldn’t help but see how to improve the systems here. 

It was what I did as a Senior Marketing Executive and Systems Strategist for my family’s company, Davenport & Co. Seeing life in systems was something that just came naturally to me. 

I glanced down at my phone again; the thought of picking it up and texting Ty came over me. There I was, allowing myself to wonder why there was no text today.

I could tell him I’m out here in New York at the estate.

I squeezed my eyes shut as the thought passed through my mind, immediately dismissing it with a shake of my head.

“Uh-uh,” I said to myself, coiling my fingers around the body of the mug. “Don’t even think about doing some stupid shit like that, Elle.”

Because I was finally getting to know myself as Noelle. Not as a big sister, not as Tyson Reid’s wife. Just Noelle. I felt like I was building something here, and it didn’t feel like another system. I was building because I wanted to get to know myself independent of anyone else and every title given to me. 

I walked to my window, pulling back the curtains there.

“Oh!” I smiled. “It’s snowing.”

I sipped my coffee as my eyes followed the natural fall of the flurries.

“Another season has arrived.” I whispered. “Just like that.” 

I moved my attention to one end of the estate, slowly canvassing the open area. At the far end of the estate, only a few feet from my cottage, I noticed a parked, shiny black vehicle. 

That gave me pause.

Since being out here in Morgansville, the only vehicles I’d seen parked on the property were trucks for the farm, farming equipment for the farm, and of course me and my sister’s vehicles.

This car looked out of place. Enough to make me curious. 

With my coffee in hand, I walked to my door, pulling it open and leaning just a little over the threshold. It didn’t take me long to recognize the stance and then the back of the man standing a few feet ahead talking to my sister, Cori.

Time almost stopped. 

I gasped and nearly lost the grip on my mug.

Before I could even think about it, I stepped back into my house in a hurry and quietly closed my door, pressing my back to it.

My eyes scanned in front of me, my chest rising, falling, repeatedly.

“How did he find me?” I whispered. “Was that even him? There’s no way that was him.”

Shock, morphed into dread. Tyson was here; this fantasy I’d been creating felt like it was clearing like fog in the daytime.

Then, out of nowhere.

My heart settled, gradually reducing in rate. And only when I realized he had come.

He was here.

Of course he was.

I scoffed a laugh, turning to my door and balancing myself on the arches of my feet to look through its window to catch another glimpse of my husband, here, at Davenport Ridge.

I pressed a hand to my chest, recognizing the softness of its rhythm, a dangerous, unwelcome feeling.

This should’ve pissed me off. Because what was he doing here? How did he find me? Was it Cori? Camille?

It’s crazy because seeing him only feet away from my door filled me with hope because him being here meant that he went searching for me, and I didn’t make it easy for him to find me, which meant it took some effort. 

A lot of effort.

That meant something… and I really needed it not to. Because the hope that lived in that effort put me at risk of being whisked back to Chicago to pick up where we left off.

Me, alone. Him, busy. Possibly back to being Kaydee’s guardian angel, as she put it.

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head, and was also relieved that my annoyance concerning him had returned.

This feeling was better. Because the hope I felt seeing him here had no business feeling this terrifying.

But…

Shit. 

He came.

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Author’s Note: This is Season Two of Seasons of Davenport Ridge, a three-part serialized romance. Each season follows one sister. Cori kicked off Season One. You can read the first 4 episodes free at the link below! Start with S1E1: Cori…