The Notebook (The Notebook #1)(16)

“I remember being unable to stop painting after I went home that summer. I think it was my way of avoiding the pain I was going through. Anyway, I ended up majoring in art in college because it was something I had to do; I remember spending hours in the studio all by myself and enjoying every minute. I loved the freedom I felt when I created, the way it made me feel inside to make something beautiful. Just before I graduated, my professor, who happened to also be the critic for the paper, told me I had a lot of talent. He told me I should try my luck as an artist. But I didn’t listen to him.”

She stopped there, gathering her thoughts.

“My parents didn’t think it was proper for someone like me to paint for a living. I just stopped after a while. I haven’t touched a brush in years.”

She stared at the painting.

“Do you think you’ll ever paint again?”

“I’m not sure if I can anymore. It’s been a long time.”

“You can still do it, Allie. I know you can. You have a talent that comes from inside you, from your heart, not from your fingers. What you have can’t ever go away. It’s what other people only dream about. You’re an artist, Allie.”

The words were spoken with such sincerity that she knew he wasn’t saying it just to be nice. He truly believed in her ability, and for some reason that meant more to her than she expected. But something else happened then, something even more powerful.

Why it happened, she never knew, but this was when the chasm began to close for Allie, the chasm she had erected in her life to separate the pain from the pleasure. And she suspected then, maybe not consciously, that there was more to this than even she cared to admit.

But at that moment she still wasn’t completely aware of it, and she turned to face him. She reached over and touched his hand, hesitantly, gently, amazed that after all these years he’d somehow known exactly what she’d needed to hear. When their eyes locked, she once again realized how special he was.

And for just a fleeting moment, a tiny wisp of time that hung in the air like fireflies in summer skies, she wondered if she was in love with him again.

The timer went off in the kitchen, a small ding, and Noah turned away, breaking the moment, strangely affected by what had just happened between them. Her eyes had spoken to him and whispered something he longed to hear, yet he couldn’t stop the voice inside his head, her voice, that had told him of her love for another man. He silently cursed the timer as he walked to the kitchen and removed the bread from the oven. He almost burned his fingers, dropped the loaf on the counter, and saw that the frying pan was ready. He added the vegetables and heard them begin to crackle. Then, muttering to himself, he got some butter out of the icebox, spread some on the bread, and melted a bit more for the crabs.

Allie had followed him into the kitchen and cleared her throat.

“Can I get the table ready?”

Noah used the bread knife as a pointer. “Sure, plates are over there. Utensils and napkins there. Make sure you get plenty—crabs can be messy, so we’ll need ’em.” He couldn’t look at her as he spoke. He didn’t want to realize he’d been mistaken about what had just happened between them. He didn’t want it to be a mistake.

Allie, too, was wondering about the moment and feeling warm as she thought of it. The words he’d spoken replayed in her head as she found everything she needed for the table: plates, place settings, salt and pepper. Noah handed her the bread as she was finishing the table, and their fingers touched briefly.

He turned his attention back to the frying pan and turned the vegetables. He lifted the lid of the steamer, saw the crabs still had a minute, and let them cook some more. He was more composed now and returned to small talk, easy conversation.

“Have you ever had crab before?”

“A couple of times. But only in salads.”

He laughed. “Then you’re in for an adventure. Hold on a second.” He disappeared upstairs for a moment, then returned with a navy blue button-down shirt. He held it open for her.

“Here, put this on. I don’t want you to stain your dress.”

Allie put it on and smelled the fragrance that lingered in the shirt—his smell, distinctive, natural.

“Don’t worry,” he said, seeing her expression, “it’s clean.”

She laughed. “I know. It just reminds me of our first real date. You gave me your jacket that night, remember?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I remember. Fin and Sarah were with us. Fin kept elbowing me the whole way back to your parents’ house, trying to get me to hold your hand.”

“You didn’t, though.”

“No,” he answered, shaking his head.

“Why not?”

“Shy, maybe, or afraid. I don’t know. It just didn’t seem like the right thing to do at the time.”

“Come to think of it, you were kind of shy, weren’t you.”

“I prefer the words ‘quiet confidence,’” he answered with a wink, and she smiled.

The vegetables and crabs were ready about the same time. “Be careful, they’re hot,” he said as he handed them to her, and they sat across from each other at the small wooden table. Then, realizing the tea was still on the counter, Allie stood and brought it over. After putting some vegetables and bread on their plates, Noah added a crab, and Allie sat for a moment, staring at it.