Nicholas Sparks - Safe Haven

She shouldn’t have run away. It broke his heart because he loved her more than life and he’d always taken care of her. He bought her a house and a refrigerator and a washer and dryer and new furniture. The house had always been clean, but now the sink was full of dishes and his hamper was overflowing.

He knew he should clean the house but he didn’t have the energy. Instead, he went to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of vodka from the freezer. There were four bottles left; a week ago, there’d been twelve. He knew he was drinking too much. He knew he should eat better and stop drinking but all he wanted to do was take the bottle and sit on the couch and drink. Vodka was good because it didn’t make your breath smell, and in the mornings, no one would know he was nursing a hangover.

He poured a glass of vodka, finished it, and poured another before walking through the empty house. His heart ached because Erin wasn’t here and if she suddenly showed up at the door, he knew he’d apologize for hitting her and they’d work things out and then they’d make love in the bedroom. He wanted to hold her and whisper how much he adored her, but he knew she wasn’t coming back, and even though he loved her, she made him so angry sometimes. A wife didn’t just leave. A wife didn’t just walk away from a marriage. He wanted to hit and kick and slap her and pull her hair for being so stupid. For being so damn selfish. He wanted to show her it was pointless to run away.

He drank a third and fourth glass of vodka.

It was all so confusing. The house was a wreck. There was an empty pizza box on the floor of the living room and the casing around the bathroom door was splintered and cracked. The door would no longer close all the way. He’d kicked it in after she’d locked it, trying to get away from him. He’d been holding her by the hair as he punched her in the kitchen and she’d run to the bathroom and he’d chased her through the house and kicked the door in. But now he couldn’t remember what they’d been fighting about.

He couldn’t remember much about that night. He couldn’t remember breaking two of her fingers, even though it was obvious that he had. But he wouldn’t let her go to the hospital for a week, not until the bruises on her face could be covered by makeup, and she’d had to cook and clean one-handed. He bought her flowers and apologized and told her that he loved her and promised it would never happen again, and after she got the cast off, he’d taken her into Boston for a dinner at Petroni’s. It was expensive and he’d smiled across the table at her. Afterward, they’d gone to a movie and on the way home he remembered thinking about how much he loved her and how lucky he was to have someone like her as his wife.

Alex had stayed with Katie until after midnight, listening as she’d told the story of her prior life. When she was too spent and exhausted to talk anymore, he put his arms around her and kissed her good night. On his drive home, he thought that he had never met anyone braver or stronger or more resourceful.

They spent much of the next couple of weeks together — or as much as they could, anyway. Between the hours he worked at the store and her shifts at Ivan’s, it wasn’t usually more than a few hours a day, but he anticipated his visits to her place with a sense of excitement he hadn’t felt in years. Sometimes, Kristen and Josh went with him. Other times, Joyce would shoo him out the door with a wink, urging him to have himself a good time before he headed over.

They seldom spent time at his house and when they did, it was only for short periods. In his mind, he wanted to believe it was because of the kids, that he wanted to take things slowly, but part of him realized it also had to do with Carly. Though he knew he loved Katie — and he grew more certain with every passing day — he wasn’t sure he was ready for that just yet. Katie seemed to understand his reluctance and didn’t seem to mind, if only because it was easier to be alone at her place.

Even so, they’d yet to make love. Though he often found himself imagining how wonderful it would be, especially in those moments before sleep, he knew Katie wasn’t ready for that. They both seemed to realize it would signal a change in their relationship, a hopeful permanence of sorts. For now, it was enough to kiss her, to feel her arms wrapped around him. He loved the scent of jasmine shampoo in her hair and the way her hand nestled so perfectly in his; the way their every touch was charged with delicious anticipation, as if they were somehow saving themselves for each other. He hadn’t slept with anyone since his wife had died, and now he felt that in some way he had unknowingly been waiting for Katie.

He took pleasure in showing her around the area. They walked the waterfront and past the historic homes, examining the architecture, and one weekend he took her to the Orton Plantation Gardens, where they wandered among a thousand blooming rosebushes. Afterward, they went to lunch at a small oceanfront bistro at Caswell Beach, where they held hands across the table like teenagers.

Since their dinner at her house, she hadn’t broached her past again, and he didn’t bring it up. He knew she was still working things out in her mind: how much she’d told him already and how much there still was to tell, whether or not she could trust him, how much it mattered that she was still married, and what would happen if Kevin somehow found her here. When he sensed she was brooding over such things, he would remind her gently that no matter what happened, her secret would always be safe with him. He would never tell anyone.

Watching her, he would sometimes be overcome with an overwhelming rage at Kevin Tierney. Such men’s instincts to victimize and torture were as foreign to him as the ability to breathe underwater or fly; more than anything, he wanted revenge. He wanted justice. He wanted Kevin to experience Katie’s anguish and terror, the unending bouts of brutal physical pain. During his time in the army, he’d killed one man, a soldier strung out on methamphetamines who was threatening a hostage with a gun. The man was dangerous and out of control and when the opportunity arose, Alex had pulled the trigger without hesitation. The death had given his job a sobering new meaning, but in his heart he knew that there were moments in life when violence was necessary to save lives. He knew that if Kevin ever showed up, Alex would protect Katie, no matter what. In the army, he’d slowly come to the realization that there were people who added goodness to the world and people who lived to destroy it. In his mind, the decision to protect an innocent woman like Katie from a psychopath like Kevin was as clear as black and white — a simple choice.

On most days, the specter of Katie’s past life didn’t intrude, and they spent each day together in a state of relaxed and growing intimacy. The afternoons with the kids were particularly special for him. Katie was a natural with children — whether helping Kristen feed the ducks at the pond or playing catch with Josh, she always seemed to fall effortlessly into rhythm with them, by turns playful, comforting, rowdy, or quiet. In this way she was much like Carly, and he somehow felt certain that Katie was the kind of woman Carly had once spoken about.

In the final weeks of Carly’s life, he had maintained a vigil beside her bed. Even though she slept most of the time, he was afraid of missing those times when she was conscious, no matter how short they might be. By then, the left side of her body was almost paralyzed, and speech was difficult for her. But one night, during a brief lucid period in the hour just before dawn, she’d reached for him.

“I want you to do something for me,” she said with effort, licking her cracked lips. Her voice was hoarse from disuse.