Николас Спаркс - The Return

“Good night, Natalie.”

* * *

On Thursday, I heard from the first of the ambulance companies, who let me know that they hadn’t attended to or transported my grandfather.

On Friday, I heard from the second one and struck pay dirt. After a brief conversation, I was emailed a scanned copy of the report.

I read that my grandfather, Carl Haverson, had been picked up near mile marker 7 on Highway 123, and transported to Baptist Easley Hospital. Though light on details, the report showed that he was unconscious, with a thready pulse. Oxygen was administered en route, and he reached the hospital at 8:17 a.m.

It wasn’t much information and told me little that I didn’t already know, other than the pickup location. A quick search on the internet, including Google Earth, showed a stretch of highway near a dilapidated strip mall, which didn’t add any helpful information, primarily because I had no idea of what exactly had led to the call in the first place. He could have been walking to his truck or already driving or heading into a restaurant. I didn’t know who’d called the ambulance, or even what near mile marker 7 actually meant. Perhaps the only way to find the answers to any of these questions was to go there and check it out.

But noting the time of his arrival triggered an additional thought, one that I should have realized before. Easley was at least six hours away by car; in my grandfather’s truck, at his age, it might have taken him as long as nine hours to get there. Had he driven through the night? Try as I might, I couldn’t imagine that. He was, and always had been, an early riser. In my mind’s eye, I could visualize him getting into the truck early in the morning, after sleeping in a hotel or motel…

Where, then, had he stayed the night? Near Easley? Farther east?

Also, if he’d been found near the truck, I knew there was no way it would still be sitting alongside the highway, not after six months. So how was I going to find it?

I wrestled with the questions on and off the rest of the day, without answers. What I did finally come to accept, however, was that a road trip to Easley was in my very near future. To understand what had happened to my grandfather, I knew I had no choice but to go there.

Chapter 10

Saturday felt like early summer, at least while I was out for my run. By the time I finished, I was able to wring the perspiration from my shirt before showering, which was kind of gross, but reminded me of the years I’d actually been an athlete, as opposed to a guy who was simply trying to keep his pants from nipping at the waist.

After breakfast, I cleaned the house again, paying special attention to the kitchen and bathrooms, then hauled the small dining room table and chairs out to the back porch. I rearranged the rockers, slid the grill to a new spot, and rifled through the cabinets and closets for a tablecloth and candles, doing my best to create a subtly romantic ambiance.

Getting the boat ready was more of a chore. While I didn’t care whether the recliners were ratty or moldy, I figured she might, and I had to run to the store to buy the cleanser I needed. After detouring to the grocery store, I then took the boat to the gas pumps at the Trading Post to fill the tank, but it took longer than expected due to the long line. Three different people whipped out their phones to take photographs of me while I was in the queue, being that I was so handsome and all. Then again, maybe they were more interested in the boat. Who knew?

I set the table, added flowers from the front yard to the vase, put the bottles of wine in the refrigerator to chill, chopped vegetables, and tossed a salad. I loaded the cooler with ice, beer, soda, and bottles of water and ferried it to the boat, along with a snack platter. By that point, it was midafternoon; I tried and failed to remember the last time it had taken me so long to get ready for a date.

I showered for the second time that day and considering the sultry temperature, my instincts told me that shorts and a T-shirt would be most appropriate for the boat. Instead, I opted for jeans, a blue button-up shirt, and Top-Siders. I rolled up my sleeves and hoped the breeze would keep me from sweating through my shirt.

I should have listened to my instincts. Natalie showed up a few minutes later, stepping out of her car in jean shorts, sunglasses, sandals, and a Rolling Stones T-shirt, a casually sexy appearance that registered immediately. I swallowed hard.

After collecting a medium-sized canvas bag from the passenger seat, she turned, stopping in her tracks when she saw me.

“I thought you said we were going on the boat.”

“We are,” I said. “This is my captain’s uniform.”

“You’re going to get hot…”

Yes, I am , I thought, already feeling the sun beating down on me. “I’ll be fine…”

Approaching her car, I was unsure whether to lean in for a hug or stand in place like an idiot. I opted for the latter. She acted equally uncertain, which made me wonder whether she was as nervous as I. I doubted it, but it still made me feel better.

“I wasn’t sure if I should bring anything,” she said, motioning to the car. “But I have a small cooler in the back seat with drinks.”

“I put some in the boat already, but I’m happy to load what you brought just in case.”

Opening the back door, I retrieved the cooler.

“How’s your day been?” she asked as we walked toward the house.

“Relaxing,” I lied. “You?”

“Typical Saturday.”

“Farmers’ market?”

“Among other things.” She shrugged. “Do you really think we’ll find an alligator?”

“I hope so,” I said. “But no guarantees.”

“If we do, it’ll still be a first. That’s always kind of exciting.”

“What’s in your bag?”

“Clothes for later,” she said. “I didn’t want to get cold.”

Frankly, I would have been happy if she stayed in the outfit she was wearing, but I kept quiet.

I pushed the front door open. “Come on in. Feel free to leave your bag anywhere.”

“How long do you think we’ll be on the boat?”

“Hard to say. But we’ll definitely be back before dark.”

She dug out some sunscreen from her bag while following me through the house and onto the back porch. When she saw all I’d done, she arched an eyebrow.

“Wow,” she said. “You’ve been busy.”

“My parents raised me to make a good impression.”

“You already have,” she said, “or I wouldn’t have agreed to come.”

For the first time in her presence, I was at a loss for words. I think she knew she’d thrown me because she laughed.

“All right,” she went on. “Let’s get on the boat and find some alligators.”

I led the way down to the dock, setting her cooler next to mine as we climbed on board. The boat rocked slightly under our shifting weights.

“I’ve never been on a yacht before,” she cooed, picking up the thread of my earlier joke. “I hope it’s safe.”

“Don’t worry. She’s seaworthy.” I hopped back on the dock briefly to untie the ropes, then rejoined her, asking, “Would you like a beer or glass of wine before we get going?”

“A beer sounds good.”

I reached into my cooler and pulled out a Yuengling. Twisting off the cap, I handed it to her. I opened a beer for myself as well, privately celebrating our first drink together.

I held my bottle toward her. “Thank you for coming,” I said. “Cheers.”

She tapped her bottle against mine before taking a small sip. “This is good,” she commented, inspecting the label.

Wasting no time, I moved to the stern and started the engine with a pull of the cord. Back in the cockpit, I increased the throttle and inched away from the dock. I made my way toward the middle of the creek, grateful for the breeze. I could already feel a thin sheen of perspiration beginning to form, but Natalie seemed more than comfortable. She stood at the railing, watching the scenery with her hair fanning out behind her, gorgeous in the sunlight. I found myself admiring her legs before I turned my attention back to steering the boat. Crashing might mar the good impression I’d made earlier, what with the whole tablecloth-and-candles-on-the-porch thing.