Nights in Rodanthe(14)
Author: Nicholas Sparks

That night, they went into town. Rodanthe was coming back to life after the storm, and they spent part of the evening in a dingy bar, listening to music from the jukebox and dancing to a few of the songs. The bar was crowded with locals who wanted to share their stories of the storm, and Paul and Adrienne were the only ones who braved the floor. He pulled her close and they rotated slowly in circles, her body against his, oblivious to the chatter and stares from the other patrons.

On Sunday, Paul took down the hurricane guards and stored them, then put the rockers back in place on the porch. The sky had cleared for the first time since the storm, and they walked the beach, just as they’d done on their first night together, noticing how much had changed since then. The ocean had carved long, violent grooves where it had washed away parts of the beach, and a number of trees had toppled over. Less than half a mile away, Paul and Adrienne found themselves staring at a house, half on the pilings, half on the sand, that had been victim to the storm surge. Most of the walls had buckled, the windows were smashed, and part of the roof had blown away. A dishwasher lay on its side near a pile of broken slats that once looked to be the porch. Near the road, a group of people had gathered, taking pictures for insurance purposes, and for the first time they realized how bad the storm had really been.

When they started back, the tide was rolling in. They were walking slowly, their shoulders touching slightly, when they came across the conch. Its ribboned exterior was half-buried in the sand and surrounded by thousands of tiny fragments of broken shells. When Paul handed it to her, she raised it to her ear, and it was then that he teased her about her claim to hear the ocean. He put his arms around her then, telling her that she was as perfect as the shell they’d just found. Although Adrienne knew she would keep it forever, she didn’t have any idea how much it would eventually come to mean to her.

All she knew was that she was standing in the arms of a man she loved, wishing that he would be able to hold her this way forever.

On Monday morning, Paul slipped out of bed before she was awake, and though he’d claimed ignorance in the kitchen, he surprised her by bringing breakfast to her on a tray in bed, rousing her with the aroma of fresh coffee. He sat with her as she ate, laughing as she leaned against the pillows, trying and failing to keep the sheet high enough to cover her br**sts. The French toast was delicious, the bacon was crispy without being burned, and he’d added just the right amount of grated cheddar cheese to the scrambled eggs.

Though her children had occasionally made her breakfast in bed on Mother’s Day, it was the first time a man had ever done that for her. Jack had never been the type to think of such things.

When she was finished, Paul went for a short jog as Adrienne showered and dressed. After his run, Paul threw his dirty clothes into the washer and showered as well. By the time he had joined her in the kitchen again, Adrienne was on the phone to Jean. She’d called to find out how everything had gone. As Adrienne filled her in, Paul slipped his arms around her, nuzzling the back of her neck.

While on the phone, Adrienne heard the unmistakable sound of the front door of the Inn squeaking open and the entrance of work boots clicking against the wooden floor. She said as much to Jean before hanging up, then left the kitchen to see who had entered. She was gone for less than a minute before she returned, and when she did, she looked at Paul as if at a loss for words. She drew a long breath.

“He’s here to talk to you,” she said.

“Who?”

“Robert Torrelson.”

Robert Torrelson waited in the sitting room and was seated on the couch with his head bowed when Paul went to join him. He looked up without smiling, his face unreadable. Before he’d come, Paul wasn’t sure he could have picked Robert Torrelson from a crowd, but up close, he realized he recognized the man sitting before him. Other than his hair, which had grown whiter in the past year, he looked the same as he had in the waiting room of the hospital. His eyes were as hard as Paul had imagined they would be.

Robert said nothing right away. Instead, he stared as Paul angled the rocker so they could face each other.

“You came,” Robert Torrelson finally said. His voice was strong and raspy, southern made, as if cured by years of smoking unfiltered Camel cigarettes.

“Yes.”

“I didn’t think you would.”

“For a while, I wasn’t sure whether I would, either.”

Robert snorted as if he’d expected that. “My son said he talked to you.”

“He did.”

Robert smiled bitterly, knowing what had been said. “He said you didn’t try to explain yourself.”

“No,” Paul answered, “I didn’t.”

“But you still don’t think you did anything wrong, do you?”

Paul glanced away, thinking about what Adrienne had said. No, he thought, he’d never change their minds. He straightened up.

“In your letter, you said you wanted to talk to me and that it was important. And now I’m here. What can I do for you, Mr. Torrelson?”

Robert reached into the front pocket of his shirt and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a book of matches. He lit one, moved an ashtray closer, and leaned back on the couch.

“What went wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Paul said. “The operation went as well as I’d hoped.”

“Then why did she die?”

“I wish I knew, but I don’t.”

“Is that what your lawyers told you to say?”

“No,” Paul responded evenly, “it’s the truth. I thought that’s what you’d want to hear. If I could give you an answer, I would.”

Robert brought the cigarette to his mouth and inhaled. When he exhaled, Paul could hear a slight wheeze, like air escaping from an old accordion.

“Did you know she had the tumor when we first met?”

“No,” Paul said. “I didn’t.”

Robert took another long drag on his cigarette. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, shaded with memory.

“It wasn’t as big then, of course. It was more like a half a walnut, and the color wasn’t so bad, either. But you could still see it plain as day, like something was wedged under her skin. And it always bothered her, even when she was little. I’m a few years older than she was, and I remember that she always used to look at her shoes when she walked to school, and it didn’t take much to know why.”

Robert paused, collecting his thoughts, and Paul knew enough to stay silent.

“Like a lot of folks back then, she didn’t finish her schooling because she had to work to help the family, and that’s when I first got to know her. She worked at the pier where we’d unload our catch, and she ran the scales. I probably tried to talk to her for a year before she said a single word to me, but I liked her anyway. She was honest and she worked hard, and even though she used her hair to keep her face hidden, every now and then I got the chance to see what was underneath, and I’d find myself looking into the prettiest eyes I’d ever seen. They were dark brown, and soft, you know? Like she’d never hurt a soul in her life because it just wasn’t in her. And I kept trying to talk to her and she just kept ignoring me until I guess she finally figured that I wasn’t going to let up. She let me take her out, but she barely looked at me all night long. Just kept staring at those shoes.”

Robert brought his hands together.

“But I asked her out again anyway. It was better the second time, and I realized that she was funny when she wanted to be. The more I got to know her, the more I liked her, and then after a while, I started to think that maybe I was in love with her. I didn’t care about that thing on her face. Didn’t care about it back then, and I didn’t care about it last year, either. But she did. She always did.”

He paused.

“We had seven kids over the next twenty years, and it seemed like every time she was nursing one of ’em, that thing grew more. I don’t know if it was true or not, but she used to tell me the same thing. But all my kids, even John—the one you met—thought she was the best mom around. And she was. She was tough when she needed to be and the sweetest lady you ever met the rest of the time. And I loved her for that, and we were happy. Life here ain’t easy most of the time, but she made it easy for me. And I was proud of her, and I was proud to be seen with her, and I made sure that everyone around here knew that. I thought that would be enough, but I guess it wasn’t.”

Paul remained motionless as Robert went on.

“She saw this show on television one night about a lady with one of those tumor things, and it had those before and after pictures. I think she just got it in her head that she could get rid of it once and for all. And that was when she started talking about getting an operation. It was expensive and we didn’t have insurance, but she kept asking if there was some way we could do it.”

Robert met Paul’s eyes.

“There was nothing I could say to her to change her mind. I’d tell her I didn’t care about it, but she wouldn’t listen. Sometimes, I’d find her in the bathroom touching her face, or I’d hear her crying, and I knew she wanted it more than anything. She’d lived with this thing her whole life, and she was tired of it. Tired of the way strangers used to avoid looking at her, or how kids would stare too long. So I finally gave in. I took all our savings, went to the bank and got a loan against my boat, and we went to see you. She was so excited that morning. I don’t think I’d ever seen her so happy about anything in her life, and just seeing her that way let me know I was doing the right thing. I told her that I’d be waiting for her and would come to see her just as soon as she woke up, and do you know what she said to me? What her last words to me were?”

Robert looked at Paul, making sure he had his attention.

“She said, ‘All my life, I’ve wanted to be pretty for you.’ And all I could think when she said it was that she always had been.”

Paul bowed his head, and though he tried to swallow, there was a catch in his throat.

“But you didn’t know any of those things about her. To you, she was just the lady who came in for an operation, or the lady who died, or the lady with the thing on her face, or the lady whose family was suing you. It wasn’t right for you not to know her story. She deserved more than that. She earned more than that by living the life she did.”

Robert Torrelson tapped the last of his ashes into the ashtray, then put out the cigarette.

“You were the last person she ever talked to, the last person she saw in her life. She was the best lady in the world, and you didn’t even know who you were seeing.” He paused, letting that sink in. “But now you do.”

With that, he stood from the couch, and a moment later he was gone.

After hearing what Robert Torrelson had said, Adrienne touched Paul’s face, dabbing away his tears.

“You okay?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m kind of numb right now.”

“That’s not surprising. It was a lot to absorb.”

“Yes,” Paul said, “it was.”

“Are you glad you came? And that he told you those things?”

“Yes and no. It was important to him that I know who she was, so I’m glad for that. But it makes me sad, too. They loved each other so much, and now she’s gone.”

“Yes.”

“It doesn’t seem fair.”

She offered a wistful smile. “It isn’t. The greater the love, the greater the tragedy when it’s over. Those two elements always go together.”

“Even for you and me?”

“For everyone,” she said. “The best we can hope for in life is that it doesn’t happen for a long, long time.”

He pulled her onto his lap. He kissed her lips, then put his arms around her, holding her close, letting her hold him, and for a long time, they stayed in that position.

But as they were making love later that evening, Adrienne’s words came back to her. It was their last night together in Rodanthe, their last night together for at least a year. And as much as she tried to fight them, she couldn’t stop the tears as they slipped silently down her cheeks.

Fifteen

Adrienne wasn’t in the bed when Paul woke on Tuesday morning. He’d seen her crying during the night but had said nothing, knowing that speaking would bring him to tears as well. But the denial left him ragged and unable to sleep for hours. Instead, he lay awake as she fell asleep in his arms, nuzzling against her, not wanting to let go, as if trying to make up for the year they wouldn’t be together.

She’d folded his clothes for him, the ones that had been in the dryer, and Paul pulled out what he needed for the day before packing the rest in his duffel bags. After he showered and dressed, he sat on the side of the bed, pen in hand, scribbling his thoughts on paper. Leaving the note in his room, he brought his things downstairs and left them near the front door. Adrienne was in the kitchen, standing over the stove and stirring a pan of scrambled eggs, a cup of coffee on the counter beside her. When she turned, he could see that her eyes were rimmed in red.

“Hi,” he ventured.

“Hi,” she said, turning away. She began stirring the eggs more quickly, keeping her eyes on the pan. “I figured you might want some breakfast before you go.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“I brought a Thermos from home when I came, and if you want some coffee for the trip, you can take it with you.”

“Thank you, but that’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

She kept stirring the eggs. “If you want a couple of sandwiches, I can throw those together, too.”

Paul moved toward her. “You don’t have to do that. I can get something later. And to be honest, I doubt if I’ll be hungry anyway.”

She didn’t seem to be listening, and he put his hand on her back. He heard her exhale shakily, as if trying to keep from crying.