The Notebook - By Nicholas Sparks Page 0,36
wanted to kiss her when she finished. But he didn’t. Instead he fought the urge and pushed it back, knowing it wasn’t what she needed. Yet she felt so wonderful to him, touching him. . . .
“The last letter I wrote was a couple of years ago. After I met Lon, I wrote to your daddy to find out where you were. But it had been so long since I’d seen you, I wasn’t even sure he’d still be there. And with the war . . .”
She trailed off, and they were quiet for a moment, both of them lost in thought. Lightning lit the sky again before Noah finally broke the silence.
“I wish you would have mailed it anyway.” “Why?”
“Just to hear from you. To hear what you’ve been up to.”
“You might have been disappointed. My life isn’t too exciting. Besides, I’m not exactly what you remembered.”
“You’re better than I remembered, Allie.” “You’re sweet, Noah.”
He almost stopped there, knowing that if he kept the words inside him, he could somehow keep control, the same control he had kept the past fourteen years. But something else had overtaken him now, and he gave in to it, hoping somehow, in some way, it would take them back to what they’d had so long ago.
“I’m not saying it because I’m sweet. I’m saying it because I love you now and I always have. More than you can imagine.”
A log snapped, sending sparks up the chimney, and both of them noticed the smoldering remains, almost burned through. The fire needed another log, but neither of them moved.
Allie took another sip of bourbon and began to feel its effects. But it wasn’t just the alcohol that made her hold Noah a little tighter and feel his warmth against her. Glancing out the window, she saw the clouds were almost black.
“Let me get the fire going again,” Noah said, needing to think, and she released him. He went to the fireplace, opened the screen, and added a couple of logs. He used the poker to adjust the burning wood, making sure the new wood could catch easily.
The flame began to spread again, and Noah returned to her side. She snuggled up against him again, resting her head on his shoulder as she had before, not speaking, rubbing her hand lightly against his chest. Noah leaned closer and whispered in her ear.
“This reminds me of how we once were. When we were young.”
She smiled, thinking the same thing, and they watched the fire and smoke, holding each other.
“Noah, you’ve never asked, but I want you to know something.”
“What is it?”
Her voice was tender.
“There’s never been another, Noah. You weren’t just the first. You’re the only man I’ve ever been with. I don’t expect you to say the same thing, but I wanted you to know.”
Noah was silent as he turned away. She felt warmer as she watched the fire. Her hand ran over the muscles beneath his shirt, hard and firm as they leaned against each other.
She remembered when they’d held each other like this for what they’d thought would be the last time. They were sitting on a sea wall designed to hold back the waters of the Neuse River. She was crying because they might never see each other again, and she wondered how she could ever be happy again. Instead of answering, he pressed a note into her hand, which she read on the way home. She had saved it, occasionally reading all of it or sometimes just a part. One part she’d read at least a hundred times, and for some reason it ran through her head now. It said:
The reason it hurts so much to separate is because our souls are connected. Maybe they always have been and will be. Maybe we’ve lived a thousand lives before this one and in
each of them we’ve found each other. And maybe each time, we’ve been forced apart for the same reasons. That means that this goodbye is both a good-bye for the past ten thousand years and a prelude to what will come.
When I look at you, I see your beauty and grace and know they have grown stronger with every life you have lived. And I know I have spent every life before this one searching for you. Not someone like you, but you, for your soul and mine must always come together. And then, for a reason neither of us understands, we’ve been forced to say good-bye.
I would love to tell