The Notebook by Nicholas Sparks

at a 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’s 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.

Kayaks and F orgotten Dreams
    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