The Notebook (The Notebook #1)(18)

Because of him, she’d gone to a few poetry readings offered by the English department while in college. She’d sat and listened to different people, different poems, but had stopped soon after, discouraged that no one inspired her or seemed as inspired as true lovers of poetry should be.

They rocked for a while, drinking tea, sitting quietly, drifting in their thoughts. The compulsion that had driven her here was gone now—she was glad for this—but she worried about the feelings that had taken its place, the stirrings that had begun to sift and swirl in her pores like gold dust in river pans. She’d tried to deny them, hide from them, but now she realized that she didn’t want them to stop. It had been years since she’d felt this way.

Lon could not evoke these feelings in her. He never had and probably never would. Maybe that was why she had never been to bed with him. He had tried before, many times, using everything from flowers to guilt, and she had always used the excuse that she wanted to wait until marriage. He took it well, usually, and she sometimes wondered how hurt he would be if he ever found out about Noah.

But there was something else that made her want to wait, and it had to do with Lon himself. He was driven in his work, and it always commanded most of his attention. Work came first, and for him there was no time for poems and wasted evenings and rocking on porches. She knew this was why he was successful, and part of her respected him for that. But she also sensed it wasn’t enough. She wanted something else, something different, something more. Passion and romance, perhaps, or maybe quiet conversations in candlelit rooms, or perhaps something as simple as not being second.

Noah, too, was sifting through his thoughts. To him, the evening would be remembered as one of the most special times he had ever had. As he rocked, he remembered it all in detail, then remembered it again. Everything she had done seemed somehow electric to him, charged.

Now, sitting beside her, he wondered if she’d ever dreamed the same things he had in the years they’d been apart. Had she ever dreamed of them holding each other again and kissing in soft moonlight? Or did she go further and dream of their naked bodies, which had been kept separate for far too long. . . .

He looked to the stars and remembered the thousands of empty nights he had spent since they’d last seen each other. Seeing her again brought all those feelings to the surface, and he found it impossible to press them back down. He knew then he wanted to make love to her again and to have her love in return. It was what he needed most in the world.

But he also realized it could never be. Now that she was engaged.

Allie knew by his silence that he was thinking about her and found that she reveled in it. She didn’t know what his thoughts were exactly, didn’t care really, just knew they were about her and that was enough.

She thought about their conversation at dinner and wondered about loneliness. For some reason she couldn’t picture him reading poetry to someone else or even sharing his dreams with another woman. He didn’t seem the type. Either that, or she didn’t want to believe it.

She put down the tea, then ran her hands through her hair, closing her eyes as she did so.

“Are you tired?” he asked, finally breaking free from his thoughts.

“A little. I should really be going in a couple of minutes.”

“I know,” he said, nodding, his tone neutral.

She didn’t get up right away. Instead she picked up the cup and drank the last swallow of tea, feeling it warm her throat. She took the evening in. Moon higher now, wind in the trees, temperature dropping.

She looked at Noah next. The scar on his face was visible from the side. She wondered if it had happened during the war, then wondered if he’d ever been wounded at all. He hadn’t mentioned it and she hadn’t asked, mostly because she didn’t want to imagine him being hurt.

“I should go,” she finally said, handing the quilt back to him.

Noah nodded, then stood without a word. He carried the quilt, and the two of them walked to her car while fallen leaves crunched beneath their feet. She started to take off the shirt he’d loaned her as he opened the door, but he stopped her.

“Keep it,” he said. “I want you to have it.”

She didn’t ask why, because she wanted to keep it, too. She readjusted it and crossed her arms afterward to ward off the chill. For some reason, as she stood there she was reminded of standing on her front porch after a high school dance, waiting for a kiss.

“I had a great time tonight,” he said. “Thank you for finding me.”

“I did, too,” she answered.

He summoned his courage. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

A simple question. She knew what the answer should be, especially if she wanted to keep her life simple. “I don’t think we should,” was all she had to say, and it would end right here and now. But for a second she didn’t say anything.

The demon of choice confronted her then, teased her, challenged her. Why couldn’t she say it? She didn’t know. But as she looked in his eyes to find the answer she needed, she saw the man she’d once fallen in love with, and suddenly it all came clear.

“I’d like that.”

Noah was surprised. He hadn’t expected her to answer this way. He wanted to touch her then, to take her in his arms, but he didn’t.

“Can you be here about noon?”

“Sure. What do you want to do?”