The Notebook (11 page)

“Noah, what are they doing here?”

“I don’t know. I know the swans from up north migrate to Lake Matamuskeet every winter, but I guess they came here this time. I don’t know why. Maybe the early blizzard had something to do with it. Maybe they got off track or something. They’ll find their way back, though.”

“They won’t stay?”

“I doubt it. They’re driven by instinct, and this isn’t their place. Some of the geese may winter here, but the swans will go back to Matamuskeet.”

Noah paddled hard as dark clouds rolled directly overhead. Soon rain began to fall, a light sprinkle at first, then gradually harder. Lightning ...a pause . . . then thunder again. A little louder now. Maybe six or seven miles away. More rain as Noah began to paddle even harder, his muscles tightening with every stroke.

Thicker drops now.

Falling . . .

Falling with the wind . . .

Falling hard and thick . . . Noah rowing . . . racing the sky . . . still getting wet . . . cursing to himself . . . losing to Mother Nature...

The downpour was steady now, and Allie watched the rain fall diagonally from the sky, trying to defy gravity as it rode on westerly winds that whistled over the trees. The sky darkened a little more, and big heavy drops fell from the clouds. Hurricane drops.

Allie enjoyed the rain and leaned her head back for a moment to let it hit her face. She knew the front of her dress would soak through in a couple of minutes, but she didn’t care. She did wonder, though, if he noticed, then thought he probably did.

She ran her hands through her hair, feeling its wetness. It felt wonderful, she felt wonderful, everything felt wonderful. Even through the rain, she could hear him breathing hard and the sound aroused her sexually in a way she hadn’t felt in years.

A cloud burst directly above them, and the rain began to come down even harder. Harder than she’d ever seen it. Allie looked upward and laughed, giving up any attempt at keeping dry, making Noah feel better. He hadn’t known how she was feeling about it. Even though she’d made the decision to come, he doubted that she’d expected to be caught in a storm like this.

They reached the dock a couple of minutes later, and Noah moved in close enough for Allie to step out. He helped her up, then got out himself and dragged the canoe up the bank far enough not to drift away. Just in case, he tied it to the dock, knowing another minute in the rain wouldn’t make any difference.

As he was tying the canoe, he looked up at Allie and stopped breathing for just a second. She was incredibly beautiful as she waited, watching him, completely comfortable in the rain. She didn’t try to keep dry or hide herself, and he could see the outline of her breasts as they pressed through the fabric of the dress that clung tightly to her body. It wasn’t a cold rain, but he could see her nipples erect and protruding, hard like little rocks. He felt his loins begin to stir and quickly turned away, embarrassed, muttering to himself, glad the rain muffled any sound of it. When he finished and stood, Allie took his hand in hers, surprising him. Despite the downpour, they didn’t rush toward the house, and Noah imagined what it would be like to spend the night with her.

Allie, too, was wondering about him. She felt the warmth in his hands and wondered what it would be like to have them touch her body, feeling all of her, lingering slowly across her skin. Just thinking about it made her take a deep breath, and she felt her nipples begin to tingle and a new warmth between her legs.

She realized then that something had changed since she’d come here. And although she couldn’t pinpoint the exact time—yesterday after dinner, or this afternoon in the canoe, or when they saw the swans, or maybe even now as they walked holding hands—she knew that she had fallen in love with Noah Taylor Calhoun again, and that maybe, just maybe, she had never stopped.

There was no uneasiness between them as they reached the door and both of them went inside, pausing in the foyer, clothes dripping.

“Did you bring a change of clothes?”

She shook her head, still feeling the roll of emotions within her, wondering if it showed on her face.

“I think I can find something here for you so you can get out of those clothes. It might be a little big, but it’s warm.”

“Anything,” she said.

“I’ll be back in a second.”

Noah slipped off his boots, then ran up the stairs, descending a minute later. He had a pair of cotton pants and a long-sleeved shirt under one arm and some jeans with a blue shirt in the other.

“Here,” he said, handing her the cotton pants and shirt. “You can change in the bedroom upstairs. There’s a bathroom and towel up there too if you want to shower.”

She thanked him with a smile and went up the stairs, feeling his eyes on her as she walked. She entered the bedroom and closed the door, then set the pants and shirt on his bed and peeled everything off. Naked, she went to his closet and found a hanger, put her dress, bra, and panties on it, and then went to hang it in the bathroom so it wouldn’t drip on the hardwood floor. She felt a secret thrill at being naked in the same room he slept in.

She didn’t want to shower after being in the rain. She liked the soft feeling on her skin, and it reminded her of how people used to live long ago. Naturally. Like Noah. She slipped on his clothes before looking at herself in the mirror. The pants were big, but tucking in the shirt helped, and she rolled up the bottoms just a little so they wouldn’t drag. The neck was torn a little and it nearly hung off one shoulder, but she liked the way it looked on her anyway. She pulled the sleeves up almost to the elbows, went to the bureau, and slipped on some socks, then went to the bathroom to find a hairbrush.

She brushed her wet hair just enough to get out the snarls, letting it rest on her shoulders. Looking in the mirror, she wished she had brought a clasp or a couple of hairpins.

And a little more mascara. But what could she do? Her eyes still had a little of what she’d put on earlier, and she touched up with a washcloth, doing the best she could.

When she was finished, she checked herself in the mirror, feeling pretty despite everything, and went back down the stairs.

Noah was in the living room squatting before a fire, doing his best to coax it to life. He didn’t see her come in, and she watched him as he worked. He had changed his clothes as well and looked good: his shoulders broad, wet hair hanging just over his collar, jeans tight.

He poked the fire, moving the logs, and added some more kindling. Allie leaned against the door-jamb, one leg crossed over the other, and continued to watch him. In a few minutes the fire had turned to flames, even and steady. He turned to the side to straighten the remaining unused logs and caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye. He turned back to her quickly.

Even in his clothes she looked beautiful. After a moment he turned away shyly, going back to stacking the logs.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” he said, trying to sound casual.

“I know. You weren’t supposed to.” She knew what he had been thinking and felt a tinge of amusement at how young he seemed.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“A couple of minutes.”

Noah brushed his hands on his pants, then pointed to the kitchen. “Can I get you some tea? I started the water while you were upstairs.” Small talk, anything to keep his mind clear. But damn, the way she looked . . .

She thought for a second, saw the way he was looking at her, and felt the old instincts take over.

“Do you have anything stronger, or is it too early to drink?”

He smiled. “I have some bourbon in the pantry. Is that okay?”

“That sounds great.”

He started toward the kitchen, and Allie watched him run his hand through his wet hair as he disappeared.

Thunder boomed loudly, and another downpour started. Allie could hear the roaring of the rain on the roof, could hear the snapping of logs as the flickering flames lit the room. She turned to the window and saw the gray sky flash lighter for just a second. Moments later, another boom of thunder. Close this time.

She took a quilt from the sofa and sat on the rug in front of the fire. Crossing her legs, she adjusted the quilt until she was comfortable and watched the dancing flames. Noah came back, saw what she had done, and went to sit beside her. He put down two glasses and poured some bourbon into each of them. Outside, the sky grew darker.

Thunder again. Loud. The storm in full fury, winds whipping the rain in circles.

“It’s quite a storm,” Noah said as he watched the drops flow in vertical streams on the windows. He and Allie were close now, though not touching, and Noah watched her chest rise slightly with every breath, imagining the feel of her body once again before fighting it back.

“I like it,” she said, taking a sip. “I’ve always liked thunderstorms. Even as a young girl.”

“Why?” Saying anything, keeping his balance.

“I don’t know. They just always seemed romantic to me.”

She was quiet for a moment, and Noah watched the fire flicker in her emerald eyes. Then she said, “Do you remember sitting together and watching the storm a few nights before I left?”

“Of course.”

“I used to think about it all the time after I went home. I always thought about how you looked that night. It was the way I always remembered you.”

“Have I changed much?”

She took another sip of bourbon, feeling it warm her. She touched his hand as she answered.

“Not really. Not in the things that I remember. You’re older, of course, with more life behind you, but you’ve still got the same gleam in your eye. You still read poetry and float on rivers. And you’ve still got a gentleness that not even the war could take away.”

He thought about what she’d said and felt her hand lingering on his, her thumb tracing slow circles.

“Allie, you asked me earlier what I remembered most about the summer. What do you remember?”

It was a while before she answered. Her voice seemed to come from somewhere else.

“I remember making love. That’s what I remember most. You were my first, and it was more wonderful than I ever thought it would be.”

Noah took a drink of bourbon, remembering, bringing back the old feelings again, then suddenly shook his head. This was already hard enough. She went on.

“I remember being so afraid beforehand that I was trembling, but at the same time being so excited. I’m glad you were the first. I’m glad we were able to share that.”

“Me too.”

“Were you as afraid as I was?”

Noah nodded without speaking, and she smiled at his honesty.

“I thought so. You were always shy like that. Especially in the beginning. I remember you had asked if I had a boyfriend, and when I said I did, you barely talked to me anymore.”

“I didn’t want to get between the two of you.” “You did, though, in the end, despite your professed innocence,” she said, smiling. “And I’m glad you did.”

“When did you finally tell him about us?”

“After I got home.”

“Was it hard?”

“Not at all. I was in love with you.”

She squeezed his hand, let go, and moved closer. She put her hand through his arm, cradling it, and rested her head on his shoulder. He could smell her, soft like the rain, warm. She spoke quietly:

“Do you remember walking home after the festival? I asked you if you wanted to see me again. You just nodded your head and didn’t say a word. It wasn’t too convincing.”

“I’d never met anyone like you before. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t know what to say.”

“I know. You could never hide anything. Your eyes always gave you away. You had the most wonderful eyes I’d ever seen.”

She paused then, lifted her head from his shoulder, and looked directly at him. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. “I think I loved you more that summer than I ever loved anyone.”

Lightning flashed again. In the quiet moments before the thunder, their eyes met as they tried to undo the fourteen years, both of them sensing a change since yesterday. When the thunder finally sounded, Noah sighed and turned from her, toward the windows.

“I wish you could have read the letters I wrote you,” he said.

She didn’t speak for a long while.

“It wasn’t just up to you, Noah. I didn’t tell you, but I wrote you a dozen letters after I got home. I just never sent them.”

“Why?” Noah was surprised. “I guess I was too afraid.” “Of what?”

“That maybe it wasn’t as real as I thought it was. That maybe you forgot me.”

“I would never do that. I couldn’t even think it.” “I know that now. I can see it when I look at you. But back then, it was different. There was so much I didn’t understand, things that a young girl’s mind couldn’t sort out.”

“What do you mean?”

She paused, collecting her thoughts.

“When your letters never came, I didn’t know what to think. I remember talking to my best friend about what happened that summer, and she said that you got what you wanted, and that she wasn’t surprised that you wouldn’t write. I didn’t believe that you were that way, I never did, but hearing it and thinking about all our differences made me wonder if maybe the summer meant more to me than it had meant to you. . . . And then, while all this was going through my head, I heard from Sarah. She said that you had left New Bern.”

“Fin and Sarah always knew where I was—”

She held up her hand to stop him. “I know, but I never asked. I assumed that you had left New Bern to start a new life, one without me. Why else wouldn’t you write? Or call? Or come see me?”

Noah looked away without answering, and she continued:

“I didn’t know, and in time, the hurt began to fade and it was easier to just let it go. At least I thought it was. But in every boy I met in the next few years, I found myself looking for you, and when the feelings got too strong, I’d write you another letter. But I never sent them for fear of what I might find. By then, you’d gone on with your life and I didn’t want to think about you loving someone else. I wanted to remember us like we were that summer. I didn’t want to ever lose that.”