The Notebook, Page 4

  "So what have you been up to? Why are you here?"

  His questions brought her back to the present, making her realize what could happen if she wasn't careful. Don't let this get out of hand, she told herself; the longer it goes on, the harder it's going to be. And she didn't want it to get any harder.

  But God, those eyes. Those soft, dark eyes.

  She turned away and took a deep breath, wondering how to say it, and when she finally started, her voice was quiet. "Noah, before you get the wrong idea, I did want to see you again, but there's more to it than just that." She paused for a second. "I came here for a reason. There's something I have to tell you."

  "What is it?"

  She looked away and didn't answer for a moment, surprised that she couldn't tell him just yet. In the silence, Noah felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Whatever it was, was bad.

  "I don't know how to say it. I thought I did at first, but now I'm not so sure. . . ."

  The air was suddenly rattled by the sharp cry of a raccoon, and Clem came out from under the porch, barking gruffly. Both of them turned at the commotion, and Allie was glad for the distraction.

  "Is he yours?" she asked.

  Noah nodded, feeling the tightness in his stomach. "Actually it's a she. Clementine's her name. But yeah, she's all mine." They both watched as Clem shook her head, stretched, then wandered toward the sounds. Allie's eyes widened just a bit when she saw her limp away.

  "What happened to her leg?" she asked, stalling for time.

  "Hit by a car a few months back. Doc Harrison, the vet, called me to see if I wanted her because her owner didn't anymore. After I saw what had happened, I guess I just couldn't let her be put down."

  "You were always nice like that," she said, trying to relax. She paused, then looked past him toward the house. "You did a wonderful job restoring it. It looks perfect, just like I knew it would someday."

  He turned his head in the same direction as hers while he wondered about the small talk and what she was holding back.

  "Thanks, that's nice of you. It was quite a project, though. I don't know if I would do it again."

  "Of course you would," she said. She knew exactly how he felt about this place. But then, she knew how he felt about everything--or at least she had a long time ago.

  And with that thought, she realized how much had changed since then. They were strangers now; she could tell by looking at him. Could tell that fourteen years apart was a long time. Too long.

  "What is it, Allie?" He turned to her, compelling her to look, but she continued to stare at the house.

  "I'm being rather silly, aren't I?" she asked, trying to smile.

  "What do you mean?"

  "This whole thing. Showing up out of the blue, not knowing what I want to say. You must think I'm crazy."

  "You're not crazy," he said gently. He reached for her hand, and she let him hold it as they stood next to one another. He went on: "Even though I don't know why, I can see this is hard for you. Why don't we go for a walk?"

  "Like we used to?"

  "Why not? I think we both could use one."

  She hesitated and looked to his front door. "Do you need to tell anyone?"

  He shook his head.

  "No, there's no one to tell. It's just me and Clem." Even though she'd asked, she had suspected there wouldn't be anyone else, and inside she didn't know how to feel about that. But it did make what she wanted to say a little harder. It would have been easier if there was someone else.

  They started toward the river and turned on a path near the bank. She let go of his hand, surprising him, and walked on with just enough distance between them so that they couldn't accidentally touch.

  He looked at her. She was pretty still, with thick hair and soft eyes, and she moved so gracefully that it almost seemed as though she were gliding. He'd seen beautiful women before, though, women who caught his eye, but to his mind they usually lacked the traits he found most desirable. Traits like intelligence, confidence, strength of spirit, passion, traits that inspired others to greatness, traits he aspired to himself.

  Allie had those traits, he knew, and as they walked now, he sensed them once again lingering beneath the surface. "A living poem" had always been the words that came to mind when he tried to describe her to others.

  "How long have you been back here?" she asked as the path gave way to a small grass hill.

  "Since last December. I worked up north for a while, then spent the last three years in Europe."

  She looked to him with questions in her eyes. "The war?"

  He nodded and she went on.

  "I thought you might be there. I'm glad you made it out okay."

  "Me too," he said.

  "Are you glad to be back home?"

  "Yeah. My roots are here. This is where I'm supposed to be." He paused. "But what about you?" He asked the question softly, suspecting the worst.

  It was a long moment before she answered.

  "I'm engaged."

  He looked down when she said it, suddenly feeling just a bit weaker. So that was it. That's what she needed to tell him.

  "Congratulations," he finally said, wondering how convincing he sounded. "When's the big day?"

  "Three weeks from Saturday. Lon wanted a November wedding."

  "Lon?"

  "Lon Hammond Jr. My fiance."

  He nodded, not surprised. The Hammonds were one of the most powerful and influential families in the state. Cotton money. Unlike that of his own father, the death of Lon Hammond Sr. had made the front page of the newspaper. "I've heard of them. His father built quite a business. Did Lon take over for him?"

  She shook her head. "No, he's a lawyer. He has his own practice downtown."

  "With his name, he must be busy."

  "He is. He works a lot."

  He thought he heard something in her tone, and the next question came automatically.

  "Does he treat you well?"

  She didn't answer right away, as if she were considering the question for the first time. Then: "Yes. He's a good man, Noah. You would like him."

  Her voice was distant when she answered, or at least he thought it was. Noah wondered if it was just his mind playing tricks on him.

  "How's your daddy doing?" she asked.

  Noah took a couple of steps before answering. "He passed on earlier this year, right after I got back."

  "I'm sorry," she said softly, knowing how much he had meant to Noah.

  He nodded, and the two walked in silence for a moment.

  They reached the top of the hill and stopped. The oak tree was in the distance, with the sun glowing orange behind it. Allie could feel his eyes on her as she stared in that direction.

  "A lot of memories there, Allie."

  She smiled. "I know. I saw it when I came in. Do you remember the day we spent there?"

  "Yes," he answered, volunteering no more.

  "Do you ever think about it?"

  "Sometimes," he said. "Usually when I'm working out this way. It sits on my property now."

  "You bought it?"

  "I just couldn't bear to see it turned into kitchen cabinets."

  She laughed under her breath, feeling strangely pleased about that. "Do you still read poetry?"

  He nodded. "Yeah. I never stopped. I guess it's in my blood."

  "Do you know, you're the only poet I've ever met."

  "I'm no poet. I read, but I can't write a verse. I've tried."

  "You're still a poet, Noah Taylor Calhoun." Her voice softened. "I still think about it a lot. It was the first time anyone ever read poetry to me before. In fact, it's the only time."

  Her comment made both of them drift back and remember as they slowly circled back to the house, following a new path that passed near the dock. As the sun dropped a little lower and the sky turned orange, he asked: "So, how long are you staying?"

  "I don't know. Not long. Maybe until tomorrow or the next day."

  "Is your fiance here on bus
iness?"

  She shook her head. "No, he's still in Raleigh." Noah raised his eyebrows. "Does he know you're here?"

  She shook her head again and answered slowly. "No. I told him I was looking for antiques. He wouldn't understand my coming here."

  Noah was a little surprised by her answer. It was one thing to come and visit, but it was an entirely different matter to hide the truth from her fiance.

  "You didn't have to come here to tell me you were engaged. You could have written me instead, or even called."

  "I know. But for some reason, I had to do it in person."

  "Why?"

  She hesitated. "I don't know . . . ," she said, trailing off, and the way she said it made him believe her. The gravel crunched beneath their feet as they walked in silence for a few steps. Then he asked: "Allie, do you love him?"

  She answered automatically. "Yes, I love him." The words hurt. But again, he thought he heard something in her tone, as if she were saying it to convince herself. He stopped and gently took her shoulders in his hands, making her face him. The fading sunlight reflected in her eyes as he spoke.

  "If you're happy, Allie, and you love him, I won't try to stop you from going back to him. But if there's a part of you that isn't sure, then don't do it. This isn't the kind of thing you go into halfway."

  Her answer came almost too quickly.

  "I'm making the right decision, Noah."

  He stared for a second, wondering if he believed her. Then he nodded and the two began to walk again. After a moment he said: "I'm not making this easy for you, am I?"

  She smiled a little. "It's okay. I really can't blame you."

  "I'm sorry anyway."

  "Don't be. There's no reason to be sorry. I'm the one who should be apologizing. Maybe I should have written."

  He shook his head. "To be honest, I'm still glad you came. Despite everything. It's good to see you again."

  "Thank you, Noah."

  "Do you think it would be possible to start over?"

  She looked at him curiously.

  "You were the best friend I ever had, Allie. I'd still like to be friends, even if you are engaged, and even if it is just for a couple of days. How about we just kind of get to know each other again?"

  She thought about it, thought about staying or leaving, and decided that since he knew about her engagement, it would probably be all right. Or at least not wrong. She smiled slightly and nodded.

  "I'd like that."

  "Good. How about dinner? I know a place that serves the best crab in town."

  "Sounds great. Where?"

  "My house. I've had the traps out all week, and I saw that I had some good ones caged a couple days ago. Do you mind?"

  "No, that sounds fine."

  He smiled and pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. "Great. They're at the dock. I'll just be a couple of minutes."

  Allie watched him walk away and noticed the tension she'd felt when telling him about her engagement was beginning to fade. Closing her eyes, she ran her hands through her hair and let the light breeze fan her cheek. She took a deep breath and held it for a moment, feeling the muscles in her shoulders further relax as she exhaled. Finally, opening her eyes, she stared at the beauty that surrounded her.

  She always loved evenings like this, evenings where the faint aroma of autumn leaves rode on the backs of soft southern winds. She loved the trees and the sounds they made. Listening to them helped her relax even more. After a moment, she turned toward Noah and looked at him almost as a stranger might.

  God, he looked good. Even after all this time. She watched him as he reached for a rope that hung in the water. He began to pull it, and despite the darkening sky, she saw the muscles in his arm flex as he lifted the cage from the water. He let it hang over the river for a moment and shook it, letting most of the water escape. After setting the trap on the dock, he opened it and began to remove the crabs one by one, placing them into a bucket.

  She started walking toward him then, listening to the crickets chirp, and remembered a lesson from childhood. She counted the number of chirps in a minute and added twenty-nine. Sixty-seven degrees, she thought as she smiled to herself. She didn't know if it was accurate, but it felt about right.

  As she walked, she looked around and realized she had forgotten how fresh and beautiful everything seemed here. Over her shoulder, she saw the house in the distance. He had left a couple of lights on, and it seemed to be the only house around. At least the only one with electricity. Out here, outside the town limits, nothing was certain. Thousands of country homes still lacked the luxury of indoor lighting.

  She stepped on the dock and it creaked under her foot. The sound reminded her of a rusty squeeze-box, and Noah glanced up and winked, then went back to checking the crabs, making sure they were the right size. She walked to the rocker that sat on the dock and touched it, running her hand along the back. She could picture him sitting in it, fishing, thinking, reading. It was old and weather-beaten, rough feeling. She wondered how much time he spent here alone, and she wondered about his thoughts at times like those.

  "It was my daddy's chair," he said, not looking up, and she nodded. She saw bats in the sky, and frogs had joined the crickets in their evening harmony.

  She walked to the other side of the dock, feeling a sense of closure. A compulsion had driven her here, and for the first time in three weeks the feeling was gone. She'd somehow needed Noah to know about her engagement, to understand, to accept it--she was sure of that now--and while thinking of him, she was reminded of something they'd shared from the summer they were together. With head down, she paced around slowly, looking for it until she found it--the carving. Noah loves Allie, in a heart. Carved into the dock a few days before she'd left.

  A breeze broke the stillness and chilled her, making her cross her arms. She stood that way, alternately looking down at the carving and then toward the river, until she heard him reach her side. She could feel his closeness, his warmth, as she spoke.

  "It's so peaceful here," she said, her voice dreamlike.

  "I know. I come down here a lot now just to be close to the water. It makes me feel good."

  "I would, too, if I were you."

  "Come on, let's go. The mosquitoes are getting vicious, and I'm starved."

  The sky had turned black, and Noah started toward the house, Allie right beside him. In the silence her mind wandered, and she felt a little light-headed as she walked along the path. She wondered what he was thinking about her being here and wasn't exactly sure if she knew herself. When they reached the house a couple of minutes later, Clem greeted them with a wet nose in the wrong place. Noah motioned her away, and she left with her tail between her legs.

  He pointed to her car. "Did you leave anything in there that you need to get out?"

  "No, I got in earlier and unpacked already." Her voice sounded different to her, as if the years had suddenly been undone.

  "Good enough," he said as he reached the back porch and started up the steps. He set the bucket by the door, then led the way inside, heading toward the kitchen. It was on the immediate right, large and smelling of new wood. The cabinets had been done in oak, as was the floor, and the windows were large and faced east, allowing the light from morning sun. It was a tasteful restoration, not overdone as was common when homes like this were rebuilt.

  "Do you mind if I look around?"

  "No, go ahead. I did some shopping earlier, and I still have to put the groceries away."

  Their eyes met for a second, and Allie knew as she turned that he continued to watch her as she left the room. Inside she felt that little twitch again.

  She toured the house for the next few minutes, walking through the rooms, noticing how wonderful it looked. By the time she'd finished, it was hard to remember how run-down it had been. She came down the stairs, turned toward the kitchen, and saw his profile. For a second he looked like a young man of seventeen again, and it made her pause a split second before going on. Damn,
she thought, get a hold of yourself. Remember that you're engaged now.

  He was standing by the counter, a couple of cabinet doors open wide, empty grocery bags on the floor, whistling quietly. He smiled at her before putting a few more cans into one of the cabinets. She stopped a few feet from him and leaned against the counter, one leg over the other. She shook her head, amazed at how much he had done.

  "It's unbelievable, Noah. How long did the restoration take?"

  He looked up from the last bag he was unpacking. "Almost a year."

  "Did you do it yourself?"

  He laughed under his breath. "No. I always thought I would when I was young, and I started that way. But it was just too much. It would have taken years, and so I ended up hiring some people . . . actually a lot of people. But even with them, it was still a lot of work, and most of the time I didn't stop until past midnight."

  "Why'd you work so hard?"

  Ghosts, he wanted to say, but didn't.

  "I don't know. Just wanted to finish, I guess. Do you want anything to drink before I start dinner?"

  "What do you have?"

  "Not much, really. Beer, tea, coffee."

  "Tea sounds good."

  He gathered the grocery bags and put them away, then walked to a small room off the kitchen before returning with a box of tea. He pulled out a couple of teabags and set them by the stove, then filled the teapot. After putting it on the burner, he lit a match, and she heard the sound of flames as they came to life.

  "It'll be just a minute," he said. "This stove heats up pretty quick."

  "That's fine."

  When the teapot whistled, he poured two cups and handed one to her.

  She smiled and took a sip, then motioned toward the window. "I'll bet the kitchen is beautiful when the morning light shines in."

  He nodded. "It is. I had larger windows put in on this side of the house for just that reason. Even in the bedrooms upstairs."

  "I'm sure your guests enjoy that. Unless of course they want to sleep late."

  "Actually, I haven't had any guests stay over yet. Since my daddy passed on, I don't really know who to invite."

  By his tone, she knew he was just making conversation. Yet for some reason it made her feel . . . lonely. He seemed to realize how she was feeling, but before she could dwell on it, he changed the subject.

  "I'm going to get the crabs in to marinate for a few minutes before I steam 'em," he said, putting his cup on the counter. He went to the cupboard and removed a large pot with a steamer and lid. He brought the pot to the sink, added water, then carried it to the stove.