Nicholas Sparks - The Lucky One

Oh, she'd talked to him about it. Talked to him ad nauseam. It went in one ear and out the other, of course. Same old story. Despite-or perhaps because of-his immaturity, Keith was stubborn and opinionated about many things, and raising Ben was one of them. He wanted a certain kind of son, and by God, he was going to get him. Ben, predictably, began reacting in his own passive-aggressive way. He began to drop everything his dad threw, even simple lobs, while ignoring his father's growing frustration, until his father finally slammed his glove to the ground and stormed inside to sulk the rest of the afternoon. Ben pretended not to notice, taking a seat beneath a loblolly pine to read until she picked him up a few hours later.

She and her ex didn't battle just about Ben; they were fire and ice as well. As in, he was fire and she was ice. He was still attracted to her, which irritated her no end. Why on earth he could believe that she'd want anything to do with him was beyond her, but no matter what she said to him, it didn't seem to deter his overtures. Most of the time, she could barely remember the reasons she'd been attracted to him years ago. She could recite the reasons for marriage-she'd been young and stupid, foremost among them, and pregnant to boot-but nowadays, whenever he stared her up and down, she cringed inside. He wasn't her type. Frankly, he'd never been her type. If her entire life had been recorded on video, the marriage would be one of those events she would gladly record over. Except for Ben, of course.

She wished her younger brother, Drake, were here, and she felt the usual ache when she thought of him. Whenever he'd come by, Ben followed him around the way the dogs followed Nana. Together, they would wander off to catch butterflies or spend time in the tree house that Grandpa had built, which was accessible only by a rickety bridge that spanned one of the two creeks on the property. Unlike her ex, Drake accepted Ben, which in a lot of ways made him more of a father to Ben than her ex had ever been. Ben adored him, and she adored Drake for the quiet way he built confidence in her son. She remembered thanking him for it once, but he'd just shrugged. "I just like spending time with him," he'd said by way of explanation.

She knew she needed to check on Nana. Rising from her seat, she spotted the light on in the office, but she doubted that Nana was doing paperwork. More likely she was out in the pens behind the kennels, and she headed in that direction. Hopefully, Nana hadn't got it in her mind to try to take a group of dogs for a walk. There was no way she could keep her balance-or even hold them-if they tugged on the leashes, but it had always been one of her favorite things to do. She was of the opinion that most dogs didn't get enough exercise, and the property was great for remedying that. At nearly seventy acres, it boasted several open fields bordered by virgin hardwoods, crisscrossed by half a dozen trails and two small streams that flowed all the way to the South River. The property, bought for practically nothing fifty years ago, was worth quite a bit now. That's what the lawyer said, the one who'd come by to feel Nana out about the possibility of selling it.

She knew exactly who was behind all that. So did Nana, who pretended to be lobotomized while the lawyer spoke to her. She stared at him with wide, blank eyes, dropped grapes onto the floor one by one, and mumbled incomprehensibly. She and Beth giggled about it for hours afterward.

Glancing through the window of the kennel office, she saw no sign of Nana, but she could hear Nana's voice echoing from the pens.

"Stay… come. Good girl! Good come!"

Rounding the corner, Beth saw Nana praising a shih tzu as it trotted toward her. It reminded her of one of those wind-up toy dogs you could purchase from Wal-Mart.

"What are you doing, Nana? You're not supposed to be out here."

"Oh, hey, Beth." Unlike two months ago, now she hardly slurred her words anymore.

Beth put her hands on her hips. "You shouldn't be out here alone."

"I brought a cell phone. I figured I'd just call if I got into a problem."

"You don't have a cell phone."

"I have yours. I snuck it out of your purse this morning."

"Then who would you have called?" She hadn't seemed to have considered that, and her brow furrowed as she glanced at the dog. "See what I have to put up with,

Precious? I told you the gal was sharper than a digging caterpillar." She exhaled, letting out a sound like an owl.

Beth knew a change of subject was coming.

"Where's Ben?" she asked.

"Inside, getting ready. He's going to his dad's."

"I'll bet he's thrilled about that. You sure he's not hiding out in the tree house?"

"Go easy," Beth said. "He's still his dad."

"You mink."

"I'm sure."

"Are you positive you didn't mess around with anyone else back then? Not even a single one-night stand with a waiter or trucker, or someone from school?" She sounded almost hopeful. She always sounded hopeful when she said it.

"I'm positive. And I've already told you that a million times."

She winked. "Yes, but Nana can always hope your memory improves."

"How long have you been out here, by the way?"

"What time is it?"

"Almost four o'clock."

"Then I've been out here three hours."

"In this heat?"

"I'm not broken, Beth. I had an incident."

"You had a stroke."

"But it wasn't a serious one."

"You can't move your arm."

"As long as I can eat soup, I don't need it anyway. Now let me go see my grandson. I want to say good-bye to him before he leaves." They started toward the kennel, Precious trailing behind them, panting quickly, her tail in the air. Cute dog.

"I think I want Chinese food tonight," Nana said. "Do you want Chinese?"

"I haven't thought about it."

"Well, think about it."

"Yeah, we can have Chinese. But I don't want anything too heavy. And not fried, either. It's too hot for that."

"You're no fun."

"But I'm healthy."

"Same thing. Hey, and since you're so healthy, would you mind putting Precious away? She's in number twelve. I heard a new joke I want to tell Ben."

"Where did you hear a joke?"

"The radio."

"Is it appropriate?"

"Of course it's appropriate. Who do you think I am?"

"I know exactly who you are. That's why I'm asking. What's the joke?"

"Two cannibals were eating a comedian, and one of them turns to the other and asks, 'Does this taste funny to you?'" Beth chuckled. "He'll like that."

"Good. The poor kid needs something to cheer him up."

"He's fine."

"Yeah, sure he is. I didn't just fall off the milk cart, you know."

As they reached the kennel, Nana kept walking toward the house, her limp more pronounced than earlier this morning. She was improving, but there was still a long way to go.

Thibault

The Marine Corps is based on the number 3. It was one of the first things they taught you in basic training. Made things easy to understand. Three marines made a fire team, three fire teams made a squad, three squads made a platoon, three platoons made a company, three companies made a battalion, and three battalions made a regiment. On paper, anyway. By the time they invaded Iraq, their regiment had been combined with elements from other units, including the Light Armored Reconnaissance Battalion, Firing Battalions of the Eleventh Marines, the Second and Third Assault Amphibian Battalions, Company B from the First Combat Engineer Battalion, and the Combat Service Support Battalion 115. Massive. Prepared for anything. Nearly six thousand personnel in total.

As Thibault walked beneath a sky beginning to change colors with the onset of dusk, he thought back to that night, technically his first combat in hostile territory. His regiment, the First, Fifth, became the first unit to cross into Iraq with the intention of seizing the Rumaylah oil fields. Everyone remembered that Saddam Hussein had set most of the wells in Kuwait on fire as he'd retreated in the First Gulf War, and no one wanted the same thing to happen again. Long story short, the First, Fifth, among others, got there in time. Only seven wells were burning by the time the area was secured. From there Thibault's squad was ordered north to Baghdad to help to secure the capital city. The First, Fifth was the most decorated marine regiment in the corps and thus was chosen to lead the deepest assault' into enemy territory in the history of the corps. His first tour in Iraq lasted a little more than four months.