Николас Спаркс - The Choice

“Sounds like a Budweiser commercial. Aside from the fact that you were underage and the whole thing was illegal.”

“And you never did anything like that, right?”

“Actually, no,” she said. “I didn’t.”

“Really? Never?”

“Why do you look so surprised?”

“I don’t know. I guess . . . I just don’t see you as someone who grew up following all the rules.” When he saw her expression, he backtracked. “Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I just meant that you strike me as independent and someone who’s always up for new adventures.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

As soon as she said it, she remembered saying the same thing to Stephanie. She braced herself for what might come next.

He absently moved his fruit with his fork. “I know that you moved away from your home, that you bought your own house, that you’re making it on your own. To me, that means independence. And as for adventurous—you’re here with a bunch of strangers, aren’t you? You went parasailing and even overcame the thought of sharks to get dipped in the water. Those were new challenges. I think that’s admirable.”

She blushed, liking Travis’s answer much better than his sister’s. “Maybe,” she conceded. “But it’s not like traveling around the world without an itinerary.”

“Don’t let that fool you. You think I wasn’t nervous when I left? I was terrified. I mean, it’s one thing to tell your friends what you’re going to do, and it’s another thing entirely to actually get on the plane and land in a country where barely anyone speaks English. Have you traveled?”

“Not much. Aside from a spring break I spent in the Bahamas, I’ve never been out of the country. And if you get right down to it, if you stay close to the resort like I did—surrounded by American college kids—it could have passed for Florida.” She paused. “Where are you going next? Your next big adventure?”

“Nothing too far-flung this time. I’m going to the Grand Tetons. Do some camping, hiking, canoeing, the works. I’ve heard it’s breathtaking, and I’ve never been there.”

“Are you going alone?”

“No,” he said. “I’m going with my dad. I can’t wait.”

Gabby made a face. “I can’t imagine going off on a trip with either one of my parents.”

“Why not?”

“My parents? You’d have to know them to understand.”

He waited. In the silence, she set aside her plate and brushed off her hands.

“All right,” she said with a sigh. “First off, my mom is the kind of lady who believes that staying in anything less than a five-star hotel is roughing it. And my dad? I suppose I could imagine him doing something more exciting, except for the fact that he’s never shown interest in anything other than fishing. And besides, he wouldn’t go anywhere without Mom, and since she has her standards, that means the only time spent outdoors is patio dining. With a fancy wine list and waiters in black and white, of course.”

“Sounds like they really love each other.”

“You inferred that from what I was saying?”

“That, and the idea that your mom isn’t a fan of the great outdoors.” That elicited a laugh. “They must be very proud of you,” he added.

“What makes you say that?”

“Why wouldn’t they be?”

Why indeed, she wondered. Let me count the ways. “Let’s just say that I’m pretty sure my mom prefers my sisters. And trust me—my sisters are nothing like Stephanie.”

“You mean they always say appropriate things?”

“No. I mean they’re just like my mom.”

“And that means she can’t be proud of you?”

She took a bite of her burger, taking her time before responding. “It’s complicated,” she demurred.

“How so?” he persisted.

“For one thing, I have red hair. My sisters are all blond, like Mom.”

“So?”

“And I’m twenty-six and still single.”

“So?”

“I want a career.”

“So?”

“None of that fits the image of the daughter my mother wants. She has definite ideas about the role of women, especially southern women of proper social standing.”

“I’m getting the sense that you and your mother don’t get along.”

“Ya think?”

Just over his shoulder, Gabby saw Allison and Laird strolling down the path toward the lighthouse, hand in hand.

“Maybe she’s jealous,” he said. “Here you are, making your own life with your own goals and dreams, dreams independent of the world you grew up in, the world she expected you to inhabit—simply because she did. It takes courage to do something different, and maybe what you think is disappointment in you is actually, on some deeper level, disappointment in herself.”

He took a bite of chicken and waited for her reaction. Gabby was flummoxed. It was something she’d never considered.

“That’s not it,” she finally forced out.

“Maybe not. Have you ever asked her?”

“Whether she felt disappointed in herself? I don’t think so. And don’t tell me that you’d confront your parents that way, either. Because . . .”

“I wouldn’t,” he said, shaking his head. “Not a chance. But I have a feeling that both of them are probably extremely proud of you, even if they don’t know how to show it.”

His comment was unexpected and strangely affecting. She leaned toward him slightly. “I don’t know whether you’re right, but thanks anyway. And I don’t want you to get the wrong impression. I mean, we talk on the phone every week and we’re civil. It’s just that I sometimes wish things were different. I’d love to have the kind of relationship where we really enjoyed spending time together.”

Travis said nothing in response, and Gabby found herself relieved that he didn’t try to offer a solution or advice. When she’d related similar feelings to Kevin, his first instinct had been to come up with a game plan to change things. Pulling up her legs, she wrapped her arms around her knees. “Tell me—what’s the best thing about being a vet?”

“The animals,” he said. “And the people. But that’s probably what you expected me to say, right?”

She thought about Eva Bronson. “The animals I can understand. . . .”

He held up his hands. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m sure that some of the people I deal with are a lot like some of the people you have to deal with.”

“You mean pushy? Neurotic? With tendencies toward hypochondria? In other words, crazy?”

“Of course. People are people, and a lot of them consider their pets members of the family. Which, of course, means that if they even suspect anything is wrong with their pet, they demand a full exam—which means they bring them in at least once a week, sometimes more. Almost always it’s nothing, but my dad and I have a system in place to deal with it.”

“What do you do?”

“We put a yellow sticker on the inside flap of the pet’s file. So if Mrs. Worried comes in with Pokie or Whiskers, we see the sticker, do a cursory exam, and tell them that we don’t currently see anything wrong, but we’d like to see the dog or cat in a week just to make sure. Since they were going to bring their pet in anyway, it helps get them in and out of the office quickly. And everyone is happy. We’re the caring veterinarians, and the owners are assured that their pets are okay, but that they’d been right to worry, since we wanted to see them again.”

“I wonder how the doctors in my office would react if I started putting yellow stickers on a few files.”

“That bad?”

“Sometimes. Every time there’s a new issue of Reader’s Digest , or some news show that identifies a rare disease with specific symptoms, the waiting room fills up with kids who naturally have exactly those symptoms.”