Nicholas Sparks - The Lucky One

"Okay," he said, sighing. "Why isn't it over?"

Victor shrugged. "Because there is no balance."

"No balance," Thibault repeated, his tone flat.

"Yes," Victor said. "Exactly. You see?"

"No."

Victor groaned at Thibault's denseness. "Say someone comes to put a roof on your house. The man works hard, and at the end, he is paid. Only then is it over. But in this case, with the photograph, it is as if the roof has been put on, but the owner has not paid. Until payment is made, everything is out of balance."

"Are you saying that I owe this woman something?" Thibault's voice was skeptical.

"Yes. The photo kept you safe and brought you luck. But until payment is made, it is not over."

Thibault reached for a soda in the cooler. He handed one to Victor. "You do realize you sound insane."

Victor accepted the can with a nod. "To some, maybe. But eventually, you will look for her. There is a greater purpose to all this. It is your destiny."

"My destiny."

"Yes."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know. But you will know it when you get there." Thibault stayed quiet, wishing Victor had never brought up the subject. In the silence, Victor studied his friend. "Maybe," he speculated, "you're meant to be together."

"I'm not in love with her, Victor."

"No?"

"No," he said.

"And yet," Victor observed, "you think about her often." to this, Thibault said nothing, for there was nothing he could say.

On Saturday morning, Thibault arrived early and went straight to work at the kennels, feeding, cleaning, and training as usual. While he worked, Ben played with Zeus until Elizabeth called him inside to get ready to go. She waved from her spot on the porch, but even from a distance, he could see she was distracted.

She had gone back inside by the time he took the dogs out; he usually walked them in groups of three, with Zeus trailing behind him. Away from the house, he would let the dogs off the leash, but they tended to follow behind him no matter what direction he headed. He liked to vary the route he took; the variety kept the dogs from wandering too far away. Like people, dogs got bored if they did the same thing every day. Usually, the walks lasted about thirty minutes per group. After the third group, he noticed that Elizabeth's car was gone, and he assumed she'd gone to drop Ben off at his father's.

He didn't like Ben's father, mostly because Ben and Elizabeth didn't. The guy sounded like a piece of work, but it wasn't his place to do much more than listen when she talked about him. He didn't bow enough to offer any advice, and even if he did, she wasn't asking for any. In any event, it wasn't his business.

But what was his business, then? Why was he here? Despite himself, his thoughts drifted back to his conversation with Victor, and he knew he was here because of what Victor had said to him that morning at the lake. And, of course, because of what happened later.

He forced the memory away. He wasn't going to go there. Not again.

Calling to the dogs, Thibault turned and made for the kennels. After putting the dogs away, he went to explore the storage shed, When he turned on die light in the shed, he stared at the walls and shelves in amazement. Elizabeth's grandfather didn't have just a few tools-the place resembled a cluttered hardware store. He wandered inside, scanning the racks and sorting through the Snap-on tool cabinets and piles of items on the workbench. He eventually picked out a socket wrench set, a couple of adjustable and Allen wrenches, and a jack and carried them out to the truck. As Elizabeth had promised, the keys were under the mat. Thibault drove down the driveway, heading for the auto supply store he vaguely remembered seeing near downtown.

The parts were in stock-replacement pads, C-clamp, and some high-temp grease-and he was back at the house in less than half an hour. He put the jack in place and raised the car, then removed the first wheel. He retracted the piston with the C-clamp, removed the old pad, checked the rotors for damage, and reinstalled a new pad before replacing the wheel and repeating the process with the other wheels.

He was finishing the third brake pad when he heard Elizabeth pull up, rolling to a stop next to the old truck. He glanced over his shoulder just as she got out, realizing she'd been gone for hours.

"How's it going?" she asked.

"Just about done."

"Really?" She sounded amazed.

"It's just brake pads. It's not a big deal."

"I'm sure that's the same thing a surgeon would say. It's just an appendix."

"You want to learn?" Thibault asked, staring up at her figure silhouetted against the sky.

"How long does it take?"

"Not long." He shrugged. "Ten minutes?"

"Really?" she repeated. "Okay. Just let me get the groceries inside."

"Need help?"

"No, it's just a couple of bags."

He slipped the third wheel back on and finished tightening the lug nuts before moving to the final wheel. He loosened the nuts just as Elizabeth reached his side. When she squatted beside him, he could smell a hint of the coconut lotion she'd applied earlier that morning.

"First, you take the wheel off…he began, and methodically walked her through the process, making sure she understood each step. When he lowered the jack and started to collect the tools, she shook her head.

"That seemed almost too easy. I think even I could do it."

"Probably."

"Then why do they charge so much?"

"I don't know."

"I'm in the wrong line of work," she said, rising and gathering her hair into a loose ponytail. "But thank you for taking care of it. I've wanted those fixed for a while now."

"No problem."

"Are you hungry? I picked up some fresh turkey for sandwiches. And some pickles."

"That sounds delicious," he said.

They had lunch on the back porch, overlooking the garden. Elizabeth still seemed distracted, but they chatted a little about what it was like to grow up in a small southern town, where everyone knew everything about everybody else. Some of the stories were amusing, but Thibault admitted that he preferred a more anonymous existence. "Why am I not surprised?" she asked.

Afterward, Thibault went back to work while Elizabeth spent the afternoon cleaning the house. Unlike her grandfather, Thibault was able to pry open the office window that had been painted shut, though it turned out to be more difficult than fixing the brakes. Nor was it easy to open or close afterward, no matter how much sanding he did to smooth it. Then, he painted the trim.

After that, it was a normal workday. By the time he finished up his duties at the kennel, it was coming up on five, and though he could have easily left for the day, he didn't. Instead, he began work on the files again, wanting to get a head start on what he knew would be a long day tomorrow. He settled in for the next couple of hours, making what he thought was headway-who could tell, though?-and didn't hear Elizabeth approach. Instead, he noticed Zeus get to his feet and start toward the door.

"I'm surprised you're still here," she said from the doorway. "I saw the light on and thought you'd forgotten to turn it off."

"I wouldn't forget."

She pointed to the stacks of files on the desk. "I can't tell you how glad I am that you're doing that. Nana tried to talk me into organizing the files this summer, but I was extremely adept at put' ting her off."

"Lucky me," he drawled.

"No, lucky me. I almost feel guilty about it."

"I'd almost believe you, except for that smirk. Have you heard from Ben or Nana?"

"Both," she said. "Nana's great, Ben is miserable. Not that he said as much. I could hear it in his voice."

"I'm sorry," he said, meaning it.

She offered a tense shrug before reaching for the door handle. She rotated it in both directions, seemingly interested in the mechanism. Finally, she let out a sigh. "Do you want to help me make some ice cream?"