Nicholas Sparks - The Lucky One

She stared at him over the tops of her knees. "Five days. That was how long he lasted. And I never got him the one thing he wanted from me. You know how that makes me feel?"

Thibault felt sick to his stomach. "I don't know what to say."

"There's nothing you can say," she said. "It's just one of those terrible, impossibly sad things. And now… today, I kept thinking that he's just slipping away. Nana didn't remember, Ben didn't remember. At least with Ben, I can sort of understand it. He wasn't even five when Drake was killed, and you know how memories are at that age. Only a little bit sticks. But Drake was so good with him because he actually enjoyed being around him." She shrugged. "Kind of like you."

Thibault wished she hadn't said it. He didn't belong here____________________

"I didn't want to hire you," she continued, oblivious to Thibault's turmoil. "Did you know that?"

"Yes."

"But not because you walked here from Colorado. That was part of it, but it was mainly because you'd been in the marines."

He nodded, and in the silence she reached for the ice-cream maker. "It probably needs some more ice," she said. She opened the lid, added more ice, and then handed it back to him.

"Why are you here?" she finally asked.

Though he knew what she really meant, he pretended he didn't. "Because you asked me to stay."

"I mean, why are you here in Hampton? And I want the truth this time."

He grasped for the right explanation. "It seemed like a nice place, and so far, it has been."

He could tell by her expression that she knew there was more, and she waited. When he didn't add anything else, she frowned. "It has something to do with your time in Iraq, doesn't it?

His silence gave him away.

"How long were you there?" she asked.

He shifted in his seat, not wanting to talk about it but knowing he had no choice. "Which time?"

"How many times did you go?"

"Three."

"Did you see a lot of combat?"

"Yes."

"But you made it out." Yes.

Her lips tightened, and she suddenly looked on the verge of tears. "Why you and not my brother?"

He turned the crank four times before answering with what he knew was a lie. "I don't know."

When Elizabeth got up to get bowls and spoons for the ice cream, Thibault fought the urge to call Zeus and simply leave, right then, before he changed his mind, and go back home to Colorado.

He couldn't stop thinking about the photograph in his pocket, the photograph that Drake had lost. Thibault had found it, Drake had died, and now he was here, in the home where Drake had been raised, spending time with the sister he'd left behind.

On the surface, it was all so improbable, but as he fought the sudden dryness in his mouth, he concentrated on those things he knew to be true. The photograph was simply that: a picture of Elizabeth that her brother had taken. There were no such things as lucky charms. Thibault had survived his time in Iraq, but so had the vast majority of marines who'd been posted there. So, in fact, had most of his platoon, including Victor. But some marines had died, Drake among them, and though it was tragic, it had nothing to do with the photograph. It was war. As for him, he was here because he'd made a decision to search for the woman in the picture. It had nothing to do with destiny or magic.

But he'd! searched because of Victor…

He blinked and reminded himself that he didn't believe anything Victor had told him.

What Victor believed was just superstition. It couldn't be true. At least not all of it.

Zeus seemed to sense his struggle and lifted his head to stare. With his ears raised, he gave a soft whine and wandered up the stairs to lick Thibault's hand. Thibault raised Zeus's head, and the dog nuzzled his face.

"What am I doing here?" Thibault whispered. "Why did I come?"

As he waited for an answer that would never come, he heard the screen door slam behind him. "Are you talking to yourself or to your dog?" Elizabeth asked. "Both," he said.

She sat next to him and handed him his spoon. "What were you saying?"

"Nothing important," he said. He motioned for Zeus to lie down, and the dog squished himself onto the step in an attempt to remain close to both of them.

Elizabeth opened the ice-cream maker and scooped some ice cream into each of the bowls. "I hope you like it," she said, handing him a bowl.

She dipped her spoon in and had a taste before turning toward him, her expression earnest. "I want to apologize," she said. "For what?"

"For what I said before… When I asked why you made it and my brother didn't."

"It's a fair question." He nodded, uncomfortable under her scrutiny.

"No, it isn't," she said. "And it was wrong to ask you. So I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he said.

She ate another spoonful, hesitating before going on. "Do you remember when I told you that I didn't want to hire you because you were in the marines?"

He nodded.

"It's not what you probably think. It wasn't because you reminded me of Drake. It's because of the way Drake died." She tapped her spoon against the bowl. "Drake was killed by friendly fire."

Thibault turned away as she went on.

"Of course, I didn't know that at first. We kept getting the runaround. 'The investigation is continuing' or 'We're looking into the matter,* things like that. It took months to find out how he was killed, and even then, we never really learned who was responsible."

She groped for the right words. "It just… didn't seem right, you know? I mean, I know it was an accident, I know whoever did it didn't mean to kill him, but if something like that happened here in the States, someone would be charged with manslaughter. But if it happens in Iraq, no one wants the truth to come out. And it never will."

"Why are you telling me this?" Thibault said, his voice quiet.

"Because," she said, "that's the real reason I didn't want to hire you. After I found out what happened, it seemed like every time I saw a marine, I'd be asking myself, Was he the one who killed Drake? Or is he covering up for someone who killed him? I knew it wasn't fair, I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't help it. And after a while, the anger I felt just sort of became part of me, like it was the only way I knew how to handle the grief. I didn't like who I'd become, but I was stuck in this horrible cycle of questions and blame. And then, out of the blue, you walked into the office and applied for a job. And Nana, even though she knew exactly how I was feeling-maybe because of the way I was feeling-decided to hire you."

She set her bowl aside. "That's why I didn't have much to say to you the first couple of weeks. I didn't know what I could say. I figured I wouldn't have to say anything, since more than likely you'd quit within a few days like everyone else. But you didn't. Instead, you work hard and stay late, you're wonderful to Nana and my son… and all of a sudden, you're not so much a marine as you are just a man." She paused as if lost in thought, then finally nudged him with her knee. "And not only that, you're a man who allows emotional women to ramble on without telling them to stop."

He nudged her back to show her it was okay. "It's Drake's birthday."

"Yes, it is." She raised her bowl. "To my little brother, Drake," she said.

Thibault tapped his bowl against hers. "To Drake," he echoed.

Zeus whined and stared up at them anxiously. Despite the tension, she reached out and ruffled his fur. "You don't need a toast. This is Drake's moment."

He tilted his head in puzzlement, and she laughed.

"Blah, blah, blah. He doesn't understand a word I'm saying."

"True, but he can tell you were upset. That's why he stayed close."

"He's really amazing. I don't think I've ever seen a dog so intuitive and well trained. Nana said the same thing, and believe me, that's saying a lot."