Nicholas Sparks - Safe Haven

“Home sweet home, right? Here,” she said, handing over the wine. “Just like I promised. And believe me, I’m going to need it.”

“Rough day?”

“Like you couldn’t imagine.”

“Come on in.”

“Let me leave my coat out here or you’re going to have two puddles in your living room,” she said, shimmying out of her slicker. “I got soaked in the few seconds I was out there.”

Jo tossed her coat on the rocker along with the umbrella and followed Katie inside as she led the way to the kitchen.

Katie immediately set the wine on the counter. As Jo wandered to the table, Katie pulled open the drawer by the refrigerator. From the back of the drawer, she pulled out a rusted Swiss Army knife and readied the opener.

“This is great. I’m starved. I haven’t eaten all day.”

“Help yourself. How did it go with the painting?”

“Well, I got the living room done. But after that, it wasn’t such a good day.”

“What happened?”

“I’ll tell you about it later. I need wine first. How about you? What did you do?”

“Nothing much. Ran to the store, cleaned up, did my laundry.”

Jo took a seat at the table and reached for a cracker. “In other words, memoir material.”

Katie laughed as she began to twist the corkscrew. “Oh, yeah. Real exciting.”

“Do you want me to get that?” Jo asked.

“I think I’ve got it.”

“Good.” Jo smirked. “Because I’m the guest, and I expect to be pampered.”

Katie propped the bottle between her legs and the cork came out with a pop.

“Seriously, though, thanks for having me over.” Jo sighed. “You have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“Really?”

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?” Katie asked.

“Act surprised that I wanted to come over. That I wanted to bond over a bottle of wine. That’s what friends do.” She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, and by the way, before you start wondering whether or not we’re actually friends and how well we know each other, trust me when I say that yes, absolutely. I consider you a friend.” She let that sink in before going on. “Now how about some wine?”

The storm finally broke in the early evening, and Katie opened the kitchen window. The temperature had dropped and the air felt cool and clean. While pockets of mist rose from the ground, rolling clouds drifted past the moon, bringing light and shadow in equal measures. Leaves turned from silver to black and silver again as they shimmered in the evening breeze.

Katie drifted dreamily on the wine, the evening breeze, and Jo’s easy laughter. Katie found herself savoring every bite of the buttery crackers and sharp, rich cheese, remembering how hungry she once had been. There was a time when she’d been as thin as a heated strand of blown glass.

Her thoughts were wandering. She remembered her parents, not the hard times but the good ones, when the demons were sleeping: when her mom made eggs and bacon, the aroma filling the house, and she’d seen her father glide into the kitchen, toward her mother. He would pull aside her hair and kiss the side of her neck, making her giggle. Once, she remembered, her dad had brought them to Gettysburg. He’d taken her hand as they walked around, and she could still recall the rare sensation of strength and gentleness in his grasp. He was tall and broad-shouldered with dark brown hair and there was a navy tattoo on his upper arm. He’d served on a destroyer for four years and had been to Japan, Korea, and Singapore, though he said little else about his experience.

Her mom was petite with blond hair and had once competed in a beauty pageant, finishing as the second runner-up. She loved flowers, and in the spring she would plant bulbs in ceramic flowerpots she placed in the yard. Tulips and daffodils, peonies and violets, would explode in colors so bright they almost made Katie’s eyes ache. When they moved, the flowerpots would be placed on the backseat and fastened with seat belts. Often, when she cleaned, her mother would sing to herself, melodies from childhood, some of them in Polish, and Katie would listen secretly from another room, trying to make sense of the words.

The wine Jo and Katie were drinking had hints of oak and apricots, and it tasted wonderful. Katie finished her cup and Jo poured her another. When a moth began to dance around the light above the sink, fluttering with purpose and confusion, both of them began to giggle. Katie cut more cheese and added more crackers to the plate. They talked about movies and books, and Jo shrieked with pleasure when Katie said her favorite movie was It’s a Wonderful Life , claiming that it was her favorite movie, too. When she was younger, Katie remembered asking her mom for a bell, so she could help angels get their wings. Katie finished her second glass of wine, feeling as light as a feather on a summer breeze.

Jo asked few questions. Instead, they stuck to superficial topics, and Katie thought again that she was happy for Jo’s company. When silver highlighted the world beyond the window, Katie and Jo stepped out onto the front porch. Katie could feel herself swaying slightly and she took hold of the railing. They sipped their wine as the clouds continued to break, and all at once, the sky was filled with stars. Katie pointed out the Big Dipper and Polaris, the only stars she could name, but Jo began naming dozens of others. Katie stared at the sky in wonder, amazed at how much Jo knew about the constellations, until she noticed the names Jo was reciting. “That one’s called Elmer Fudd, and over there, right above that pine tree, you can make out Daffy Duck.” When Katie finally realized that Jo knew as little about the stars as she did, Jo started to giggle like a mischievous kid.

Back in the kitchen, Katie poured the last of the wine and took a sip. It was warm in Katie’s throat and made her feel dizzy. The moth continued to dance around the light, though if she tried to focus on it, there seemed to be two of them. She felt happy and safe and thought again how enjoyable the evening had been.

She had a friend, a real friend, someone who laughed and made jokes about the stars, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or cry because it had been so long since she’d experienced something so easy and natural.

“Are you okay?” Jo asked.

“I’m fine,” Katie answered. “I was just thinking that I’m glad you came over.”

Jo peered at her. “I think you might be tipsy.”

“I think you might be right,” Katie agreed.

“Well, okay then. What do you want to do? Since you’re obviously tipsy and ready for fun.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Do you want to do something special? Head into town, find someplace exciting?”

Katie shook her head. “No.”

“You don’t want to meet people?”

“I’m better off alone.”

Jo ran her finger around the rim of the mug before saying anything. “Trust me on this: no one is better off alone.”

“I am.”

Jo thought about Katie’s answer before leaning closer. “So you’re telling me that — assuming you had food, shelter, and clothing and anything else you needed to simply survive — you’d rather be stranded on a desert island in the middle of nowhere, all alone, forever, for the rest of your life? Be honest.”

Katie blinked, trying to keep Jo in focus. “Why would you think I wouldn’t be honest?”

“Because everybody lies. It’s part of living in society. Don’t get me wrong — I think it’s necessary. The last thing anyone wants is to live in a society where total honesty prevails. Can you imagine the conversations? You’re short and fat , one person might say, and the other might answer, I know. But you smell bad . It just wouldn’t work. So people lie by omission all the time. People will tell you most of the story… and I’ve learned that the part they neglect to tell you is often the most important part. People hide the truth because they’re afraid.”