the same wonder and joy she’d expressed when seeing the porpoises. For an instant, I had a vision of what she must have been like as a child.
She led me back to the front door. In the distance, the first rumblings of thunder could be heard. As we stood in the doorway, I drew her near.
“There’s going to be a porch, too,” she said, “with enough room for a couple of rocking chairs, or even a swing. They’ll be able to sit out here on summer nights, and congregate here after church.” She pointed. “That’s their church right over there. That’s why this location is so perfect for them.”
“You sound like you really got to know them.”
“No, not really,” she said. “I talked to them a little bit, but I’m just guessing about all this. I’ve done that with every house I’ve helped to build—I walk through and try to imagine what the owners’ lives will be like. It makes working on the house a lot more fun.”
The moon was now hidden by clouds, darkening the sky. On the horizon, lightning flashed, and a moment later a soft rain began to fall, pattering against the roof. The oak trees lining the street, heavy with leaves, rustled in the breeze as thunder echoed through the house.
“If you want to go, we should probably leave before the storm hits.”
“We don’t have anywhere to go, remember? Besides, I’ve always loved thunderstorms.”
I pulled her closer, breathing in her scent. Her hair smelled sweet, like ripe strawberries.
As we watched, the rain intensified into a steady downpour, falling diagonally from the sky. Streetlamps provided the only light, casting half of Savannah’s face in shadow.
Thunder exploded overhead, and the rain began coming down in sheets. I could see the rain blowing onto the sawdust-covered floor, forming wide puddles in the dirt, and I was thankful that despite the rain, the temperature was warm. Off to the side, I spotted some empty crates. I left her side to collect them, then began to stack them into a makeshift seat. It wouldn’t be all that comfortable, but it would be better than standing.
As Savannah took a seat next to me, I suddenly knew that coming here had been the right thing to do. It was the first time we’d really been alone, but as we sat side by side, it felt as though we’d been together forever.
Eight
The crates, hard and unforgiving, made me question my wisdom, but Savannah didn’t seem to mind. Or pretended not to. She leaned back, felt the edge of the rear crate press into her skin, then sat up again.
“Sorry,” I said, “I thought it would be more comfortable.”
“It’s okay. My legs are exhausted and my feet hurt. This is perfect.”
Yes, I thought, it was. I thought back to nights on guard duty, when I’d imagine sitting beside the girl of my dreams and feeling all was right with the world. I knew now what I’d been missing all these years. When I felt Savannah rest her head on my shoulder, I found myself wishing I hadn’t joined the army. I wished I weren’t stationed overseas, and I wished I’d chosen a different path in life, one that would have let me remain a part of her world. To be a student at Chapel Hill, to spend part of my summer building houses, to ride horses with her.
“You’re awful quiet,” I heard her say.
“Sorry,” I said. “I was just thinking about tonight.”
“Good things, I hope.”
“Yeah, good things,” I said.
She shifted in her seat, and I felt her leg brush against mine. “Me too. But I was thinking about your dad,” she said. “Has he always been like he was tonight? Kind of shy and glancing away when he talks to people?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Why?”
“Just curious,” she said.
A few feet away, the storm seemed to be reaching its climax as another sheet of rain broke from the clouds. Water poured off all sides of the house like waterfalls. Lightning flashed again, closer this time, and thunder crashed like a cannon. Had there been windows, I imagined they would have rattled in their casings.
Savannah scooted closer, and I put my arm around her. She crossed her legs at the ankles and leaned against me, and I felt as if I could hold her this way forever.
“You’re different from most of the guys I know,” she observed, her voice low and intimate in my ear. “More mature, less . . . flighty, I guess.”