The Choice(21)
Author: Nicholas Sparks

Now out back, with the leash secured to the deck railing, Moby danced from side to side, trying and failing to avoid getting even more wet than he already was.

“It’s only water, you big baby,” Travis scolded, although truthfully, he’d been spraying Moby for almost five minutes. As much as he loved animals, he didn’t want to start shampooing until all the . . . debris had been rinsed away. Dead fish parts were disgusting.

Moby whined and continued to dance, tugging backward on the leash. When he was finally ready, Travis set aside the hose and poured a third of the bottle of shampoo on Moby’s back. He scrubbed for a few minutes and rinsed, then sniffed the dog and winced. They went through the process two more times, at which point Moby was despondent. He fixed his eyes on Travis with a mournful expression that seemed to say, Don’t you realize I rolled in fish guts as my personal gift to you?

Once Travis was satisfied, he brought Moby to another part of the deck and secured him again. He’d learned that if allowed to roam immediately after a bath, Moby would return to the scene of the crime as quickly as possible. His only hope was to keep him secured so long that he forgot about it. Moby shook away the excess water and—realizing he was stuck—finally lay down on the deck with a grunt.

Afterward, Travis mowed the lawn. Unlike most of his neighbors, who rode their lawn mowers, Travis still used a push mower. It took a little longer, but it was not only decent exercise, he found the repetitive back-and-forth nature of the activity relaxing. As he mowed, he kept glancing reflexively toward Gabby’s house.

A few minutes earlier, he’d seen her leaving the garage and hop in her car. If she’d noticed him, she hadn’t shown it. Instead, she’d simply backed out, then headed down the road toward town. He’d never met anyone quite like her. And now she’d invited him to dinner.

He didn’t know what to make of that, and he’d been trying to figure it out ever since dropping her off. Most likely he’d simply worn her down. Lord knows he’d been oiling that wheel ever since they’d met, but as he mowed, he found himself wishing that he’d been a bit more subtle about the whole thing. It would have made him feel better about her dinner invitation, knowing that it hadn’t been coerced somehow.

Wondering about all of this was new to him. But then again, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed himself so thoroughly with a woman. He’d laughed more with Gabby than he had with Monica or Joelyn or Sarah or anyone else he’d dated in the past. Finding a woman with a sense of humor had been the one piece of advice his father had given him when he’d first begun to get serious about dating, and he finally understood why his dad had considered it important. If conversation was the lyrics, laughter was the music, making time spent together a melody that could be replayed over and over without getting stale.

After finishing the lawn, he dragged the mower back to the garage, noting that Gabby still hadn’t returned. She’d left the garage door cracked open, and Molly wandered out into the yard, then turned around and headed back inside.

Back in his kitchen, Travis downed a glass of iced tea in one long gulp. Knowing better but not caring, he let his thoughts drift to Gabby’s boyfriend. He wondered if Kevin was someone he knew. He found it odd that she’d said so little about him and that it had taken her so long simply to tell him his name. It would be easy to attribute it to something like guilt, except for the fact that she had shied away from the topic from the beginning. He didn’t know what to make of it, and he wondered what the guy was like or what he had done to make Gabby fall in love with him. In his mind’s eye, images floated past—athletic, bookish, somewhere in between—but none of them seemed exactly right.

Noting the time, he figured that he could get the parasail boat back to the marina before showering and getting ready. He retrieved the boat key and headed out the back slider, untied Moby, and watched as Moby raced past him down the steps. Stopping at the edge of the dock, Travis motioned to the boat.

“Yeah, go ahead. Get in.”

Moby jumped into the boat, his tail darting to and fro. Travis followed him in. Minutes later they were cruising down the creek, the wake leaving a trail that pointed them in the right direction. Passing Gabby’s house, he stole a look at her windows, thinking again about their upcoming dinner and wondering what would happen. He was, he realized for the first time in his dating life, nervous that he might do something wrong.

Gabby made the short drive to the grocery store and pulled into the crowded lot. It was always packed on Sundays, and she ended up parking in the far corner, making her wonder why she’d driven the car in the first place.

Slinging her purse over her shoulder, she got out of the car, located a cart, and entered the store.

She’d spotted Travis mowing the lawn earlier, but she’d ignored him, needing somehow to feel more in control than she actually was. The nice, orderly little world she’d created had been thrown out of whack, and she desperately needed some time to regain her composure.

Inside, Gabby made her way to the produce section, where she collected some fresh green beans and the makings for a salad. Moving quickly, she located a box of pasta and some croutons, then headed toward the rear of the store.

Knowing that Travis liked chicken, she put a packet of br**sts in the cart, thinking that a bottle of Chardonnay would go well with them. She wasn’t sure whether Travis liked wine—she somehow doubted it—but it sounded good to her, and she scanned the limited selection for a winery that she recognized. There were two offerings from Napa Valley, but she chose something from Australia, thinking it sounded a little more exotic.

The checkout lines were long and moving slowly, but at last she made it back to her car. Glancing in the rearview mirror, she caught an image of herself and paused for a moment, staring at herself as if through someone else’s eyes.

How long had it been since someone besides Kevin had kissed her? As much as she’d tried to forget that little incident, she’d found herself returning to it over and over, like a forbidden secret.

She was drawn to Travis; she couldn’t deny that. It wasn’t just that he was handsome and that he made her feel desirable. It had something to do with his natural exuberance and the way he’d made her feel a part of it; it was the fact that he had lived a life that seemed so different from hers, yet they still spoke the same language, a familiarity that belied the short period they had known each other. She’d never met someone like him before. Most people she’d known, and certainly everyone in her PA class, seemed to live their lives as if marking off goals on a score sheet. Study hard, get a job, get married, buy a house, have kids—and until this weekend, she realized she’d been no different. Somehow, compared with the choices he’d made and the places he’d traveled, her life seemed so . . . banal.

But would she do it differently if she could? She doubted it. Her experiences growing up had formed her into the woman that she’d become, just as his experiences had formed him, and she didn’t regret them. And yet, as she turned the key and started the engine, she knew that wasn’t the question that mattered. As the car idled, she realized the choice before her was this: Where do I go from here?

It is never too late to change things. The thought frightened her even as it excited her. A few minutes later, she was heading toward Morehead City, feeling as if somehow she’d been given the chance to start over.

The sun had drifted across the sky by the time Gabby got home, and she spotted Molly lying in the marsh grass, her ears perked up and tail thumping. She trotted toward Gabby as she opened the rear door, greeting her with a couple of sloppy licks.

“You seem almost back to normal,” Gabby said. “Your babies doing okay?”

As if on cue, Molly began wandering that way.

Gabby reached for the bags and brought them inside, setting the groceries on the counter. It had taken her longer than she’d anticipated, but she still had enough time to get things started. She set a pot of water on the stove and set the burner on high for the pasta. While it was heating, she chopped the tomatoes and cucumbers for the salad. She cut up the lettuce and mixed the ingredients together with a bit of cheese and the olives Travis had introduced her to the day before.

She added the pasta to the water with a dash of salt, unwrapped the chicken, and began to sauté it in olive oil, wishing she could have done something a bit fancier. She added a bit of pepper and other seasonings, but by the end, it looked almost as boring as it had before she started. Never mind, it would have to do. She set the oven to warm, added some broth to the bowl along with the chicken, and set it inside, hoping that would be enough to keep it from drying out. She drained the pasta and put it in a bowl in the fridge, planning to add a little flavoring to it later.

In her bedroom, she laid out some clothes and headed into the shower. The warm water was luxurious. She shaved her legs, forcing herself not to rush so she wouldn’t nick herself, washed and conditioned her hair, and finally stepped out and dried off.

On the bed were a new pair of jeans and a beaded, low-cut shirt. She’d chosen her outfit carefully, not wanting to dress too formally or casually, and these seemed just right. She dressed and then slipped on a new pair of sandals and a dangly pair of earrings. Stepping in front of the floor mirror, she turned from side to side, pleased with the way she looked.

With time running out, she set out some candles throughout the house and was adding the last of them to the table when she heard Travis knocking. She stood straight, trying to compose herself, then made her way to the door.

Molly had wandered up to Travis, and he was scratching her behind the ears when the door opened. He found himself unable to turn away. Nor could he find his voice. Instead, he stared wordlessly at Gabby, trying to sort through the jumble of emotions that began to crowd his heart.

Gabby smiled at his obvious discomfiture. “Come in,” she said. “I’ve just about got everything ready.”

Travis followed her inside, trying not to stare as she walked ahead of him.

“I was just about to open a bottle of wine. Would you like a glass?”

“Please.”

In the kitchen, she reached for the bottle and opener as Travis stepped forward.

“I can get that for you.”

“I’m glad you said that. I have a tendency to shred the cork, and I hate having pieces floating in my glass.”

As he opened the bottle, Travis watched her retrieve two glasses from the cupboard. She set them on the counter, and Travis noted the label, feigning more interest than he felt, trying to steady his nerves.

“I’ve never had this kind before. Is it any good?”

“I have no idea.”

“Then I guess it’ll be new for the both of us.” He poured and handed one glass to her, trying to read her expression.

“I wasn’t sure what you wanted for dinner,” she chatted on, “but I knew that you liked chicken. I have to warn you, though. I’ve never been the chef in my family.”

“I’m sure whatever you made will be fine. I’m not that picky.”

“As long as it’s plain, right?”

“That goes without saying.”

“Are you hungry?” She smiled. “It’ll only take a few minutes to heat this up. . . .”

He debated for a moment before leaning against the counter. “Actually, could we wait for a little while? I’d like to enjoy my glass of wine first.”

She nodded, and in the silence she stood before him, wondering what she was supposed to do next.

“Would you like to go sit outside?”

“Love to.”

They took a seat in the rockers she’d placed near the door. Gabby took a sip of her wine, glad for something to take the edge off her nerves.

“I like your view,” Travis said gamely, rocking back and forth with energy. “It reminds me of mine.”

Gabby laughed, feeling a little burst of relief. “Unfortunately, I haven’t learned to enjoy it the way you do.”

“Very few people do. It’s kind of a lost art these days, even in the South. Watching the creek flow by is a little like smelling the roses.”

“Maybe it’s a small-town thing,” she speculated.

Travis eyed her with interest. “Tell me honestly, are you enjoying life in Beaufort?” he asked.

“It has its good points.”

“I hear the neighbors are terrific.”

“I’ve only met one.”

“And?”

“He has a tendency to ask loaded questions.”

Travis grinned. He loved her sense of play.

“But to answer your question,” she went on, “yes, I do like it here. I like the fact that it takes only a few minutes to get anywhere, it’s beautiful, and for the most part, I think I’m learning to love the slower pace of life.”

“You make it sound like Savannah is as cosmopolitan as New York or Paris.”

“It isn’t.” She looked over her glass at him. “But I will say that Savannah is definitely closer to New York than Beaufort. Have you ever been there?”

“I spent a week there one night.”

“Ha-ha. You know, if you’re going to make a joke, you could try coming up with something original.”

“That’s too much work.”

“And you’re averse to work, right?”

“Can’t you tell?” He leaned back in his rocker, the picture of ease. “Tell me the truth, though. Do you think you’ll ever move back?”

She took a swallow of wine before answering. “I don’t think so,” she said. “Don’t get me wrong. I think it’s a great place, and it’s one of the most beautiful cities in the South. I love the way the city was laid out. It has the most beautiful squares—these lovely parks scattered every few blocks—and some of the houses that front them are stunning. When I was a little girl, I used to imagine myself living in one of them. For a long time, it was a dream of mine.”