Nicholas Sparks - The Notebook

She passed an art gallery on Front Street, almost walked by it in her preoccupation, then turned and went back. She paused at the door for a second, surprised at how long it had been since she’d been in one. At least three years, maybe longer.

She went inside and browsed among the paintings. Many of the artists were local, and there was a strong sea flavour to their works.

On one wall, though, there were a few paintings more suited to her tastes, by an artist she’d never heard of. Most appeared to have been inspired by the architecture of the Greek islands. In the painting she liked the best, she noted the artist had purposely exaggerated the scene with smaller-than-life figures, wide lines and heavy sweeps of vivid, swirling colour, drawing the eye, almost directing what it should see next. It was dynamic, dramatic. She considered buying it before she realized that she liked it because it reminded her of her own work. She examined it more closely and thought to herself that maybe Noah was right. Maybe she should start painting again.

At nine thirty Allie left the gallery and went to Hoffman-Lane, a department store. It took a few minutes to find what she was looking for. Paper, drawing chalk and pencils, not high quality but good enough. It wasn’t painting, but it was a start, and she was excited by the time she got back to her room.

She sat at the desk and started working: nothing specific, just getting the feel of it again, letting shapes and colours flow from the memory of her youth. After a few minutes, she did a rough sketch of the street scene as seen from her room, amazed at how easily it came. It was almost as if she’d never stopped.

She examined it when she was finished, pleased with the effort. She wondered what to try next and finally decided. Since she didn’t have a model, she visualized it in her head before starting. And though it was harder than the street scene, it began to take form.

Minutes passed quickly. She worked steadily, checking the time frequently so she wouldn’t be late, and finished it a little before noon. It had taken almost two hours, but the end result surprised her. It looked as though it had taken a great deal longer. After rolling it up, she put it in a bag and collected the rest of her things. On her way out of the door, she looked at herself in the mirror, feeling oddly relaxed, not exactly sure why.

Down the stairs again and out of the door. As she left she heard a voice behind her. “Miss?”

She turned. The manager. The same man as yesterday, a curious look on his face.

“Yes?”

“You had some calls last night.”

She was shocked. “I did?”

“Yes. All from a Mr. Hammond.”

Oh, God. “Lon called?”

“Yes, ma’am, four times. He was concerned about you. He said he was your fiancé.”

She smiled weakly, trying to hide what she was thinking. Four times? Four? What could that mean? What if something had happened back home? “Did he say anything? Is it an emergency?”

He shook his head quickly. “He really didn’t say, miss. Actually, he sounded more concerned about you.”

Good, she thought. That’s good. And then, just as suddenly, a pang in her chest. Why so many calls? Had she said anything yesterday? Why would he be so persistent? It was completely unlike him. Was there any way he could have found out? No, that was impossible. Unless someone saw her here yesterday and called… But they would have had to follow her out to Noah’s. No one would have done that.

She had to call him now: no way to get around it. But she didn’t want to. This was her time, and she wanted to spend it doing what she wanted. She hadn’t planned on speaking to him until later, and she felt almost as if talking to him now would spoil the day. Besides, what was she going to say? How could she explain being out so late? A late dinner and then a walk? Maybe. Or a movie? Or.

“Miss?”

Almost noon, she thought. Where would he be? His office, probably… no. In court, she suddenly realized, and immediately felt as if she’d been released from shackles. There was no way she could talk to him, even if she wanted to. She was surprised by her feelings. She shouldn’t feel this way, she knew, and yet it didn’t bother her. She looked at her watch, acting now.

“Is it really almost twelve?”

The manager looked at the clock. “Yes, a quarter to.”

“Unfortunately,” she started, “he’s in court right now and I can’t reach him. If he does call again, could you tell him I’m shopping and that I’ll try to call him later?”

“Of course,” he answered. She could see the question in his eyes, though: But where were you last night? He had known exactly when she’d come in. Too late for a single woman in this small town.

“Thank you.” she said, smiling. “I’d appreciate it.”

Two minutes later she was in her car, driving to Noah’s, anticipating the day, largely unconcerned about the phone calls. Yesterday she would have been, and she wondered what that meant.

As she was driving over the drawbridge less than four minutes after she’d left the inn, Lon called from the courthouse.

NOAH WAS sitting in his rocker, drinking sweet tea, listening for the car, when he finally heard it turn up the drive. He went around to the front and watched the car pull up and park beneath the oak tree again. Same spot as yesterday. Clem harked a greeting at her car door, tail wagging, and Noah saw Allie wave from inside the car.

She stepped out, patted Clem on the head, then turned, smiling. It was different today, though. Newer feelings now, not simply memories any more. If anything, his attraction for her had grown stronger overnight, and it made him feel a little nervous in her presence.

Allie met him halfway, carrying a small bag. She surprised him by kissing him gently on the cheek, her free hand lingering at his waist after she pulled back.

“Hi,” she said, radiance in her eyes, “where’s the surprise?” He relaxed a little, thanking God for that. “Not even a ‘good afternoon’ or ‘how was your night?’”

She smiled. Patience had never been one of her strongest attributes.

“Fine. Good afternoon. How was your night? And where’s the surprise?”

He chuckled lightly, then paused. “Allie, I’ve got some bad news. I was going to take you someplace, but with those clouds coming in I’m not sure we should go.”

“Its not raining yet How far is it?”

“Up the creek about a mile.”

“And I’ve never been there before?”

“Not when it was like this.”

She thought for a second while she looked around. When she spoke, her voice was determined. “Then we’ll go. I don’t care if it rains.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

He looked at the clouds again, noting their approach. “Then we’d better go now,” he said. “Can I bring that in for you?’

She nodded, handing her bag to him, and he jogged to the house and took it inside, placing it on a chair in the living room. Then he grabbed some bread and put it in a bag, bringing it with him as he left the house.

They walked to the canoe, Allie beside him. A little closer than yesterday.

“What exactly is this place?”

“You’ll see.”

“You’re not even going to give me a hint?”

“Well,” he said, “do you remember when we took the canoe out and watched the sun come up?”

“I thought about it this morning. I remember it made me cry?’

“What you’re going to sec today makes what you saw then seem ordinary?

“I guess I should feel special.”

He took a few steps before responding. “You are special,” he finally said, and the way he said it made her wonder if he wanted to add something else. But he didn’t, and Allie smiled a little before glancing away. As she did, she felt the wind in her face and noticed it had picked up since the morning.