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party. A comment in passing.
From Allie's mother. He'd hardly noticed it. But what had she said?
And Lon paled then, remembering. Remembering what had been said so long ago.
Remembering what Allie's mother had said.
It was something about Allie being in love one time with a young man from New
Bern. Called it puppy love. So what, he had thought when he'd heard it, and had
turned to smile at Allie.
But she hadn't smiled. She was angry. And then Lon guessed that she had loved that
person far more deeply than her mother had suggested.
Maybe even more deeply than she loved him. And now she was there. Interesting.
Lon brought his palms together, as though he were praying, resting them against
his lips. Coincidence? Could be nothing. Could be exactly what she said. Could be
stress and antique shopping. Possible. Even probable. Yet... yet.., what if?
Lon considered the other possibility, and for the first time in a long time, he became
frightened.
What if? What if she with him?
He cursed the trial, wishing it were over. Wishing he had gone with her. Wondering
if she'd told him the truth, hoping that she had. And he made up his mind then not
to lose her. He would do anything it took to keep her. She was everything he'd
always needed, and he'd never find another quite like her.
So, with trembling hands, he dialed the phone for the fourth and last time that
evening. And again there was no answer.
Yaks and Forgotten reams
A
llie woke early the next morning, forced by the incessant chirping of starlings,
and rubbed her eyes, feeling the stiffness in her body. She hadn't slept well, waking
after every dream, and she remembered seeing the hands of the clock in different
positions during the night, as if verifying the passage of time.
She'd slept in the soft shirt he'd given her, and she smelled him once again while
thinking about the evening they'd spent together. The easy laughter and
conversation came back to her, and she especially remembered the way he'd talked
about her painting.
It was so unexpected, yet uplifting, and as the words began to replay in her mind,
she realized how sorry she would have been had she decided not to see him again.
She looked out the window and watched the chattering birds search for food in
early light. Noah, she knew, had always been a morning person who greeted dawn
in his own way. She knew he liked to kayak or canoe, and she remembered the one
morning she'd spent with him in his canoe, watching the sun come up. She'd had to
sneak out her window to do it because her parents wouldn't allow it, but she hadn't
been caught and she remembered how Noah had slipped his arm around her and
pulled her close as dawn began to unfold. "Look there," he'd whispered, and she'd
watched her first sunrise with her head on his shoulder, wondering if anything could
be better than what was happening at that moment.
And as she got out of bed to take her bath, feeling the cold floor beneath her feet,
she wondered if he'd been on the water this morning watching another day begin,
thinking somehow he probably had. She was right.
Noah was up before the sun and dressed quickly, same jeans as last night,
undershirt, clean flannel shirt, blue jacket, and boots. He brushed his teeth before
going downstairs, drank a quick glass of milk, and grabbed two biscuits on the way
out the door. After Clem greeted him with a couple of sloppy licks, he walked to the
dock where his kayak was stored. He liked to let the river work its magic, loosening
up his muscles, warming his body, clearing his mind.
The old kayak, well used and river stained, hung on two rusty hooks attached to his
dock just above the waterline to keep off the barnacles. He lifted it free from the
hooks and set it at his feet, inspected it quickly, then took it to the bank.
In a couple of seasoned moves long since mastered by habit, he had it in the water
working its way upstream with himself as the pilot and engine.
The air was cool on his skin, almost crisp, and the sky was a haze of different colors:
black directly above him like a mountain peak, then blues of infinite range,
becoming lighter until it met the horizon, where gray took its place. He took a few
deep breaths, smelling pine trees and brackish water, and began to reflect. This had
been part of what he'd missed most when he had lived up north. Because of the
long hours at work, there had been little time to spend on the water. Camping,
hiking, paddling on rivers, dating, working . . . something had to go. For the most
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