Adrienne wasn’t in the bed when Paul woke on Tues-day 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 ragged1 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 dryer2, 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, scribbling3 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, standing4 over the stove and stirring a pan of scrambled5 eggs, a cup of coffee on the counter beside her. When she turned, he could see that her eyes were rimmed6 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 Thermos7 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 he fine.”
She kept stirring the eggs. “If you want a couple of sand-wiches, 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 he hungry anyway.”
She didn’t seem to be listening, and he put his hand on her back. He heard her exhale8 shakily, as if trying to keep from crying.
“Hey.
“I’m okay,” she whispered.
“You sure?”
She nodded and sniffed9 as she removed the pan from the burner. Dabbing10 at her eyes, she still refused to look at him. Seeing her this way reminded him of their first encounter on the porch, and he felt his throat constrict11. He couldn’t believe that less than a week had passed since then.
“Adrienne. . . don’t..
She looked up at him then.
“Don’t what? Be sad? You’re going to Ecuador and I have to go back to Rocky Mount. Can I help it if I don’t want this to end just yet?”
“I don’t either.”
“And that’s why I’m sad. Because I know that, too.” She hesitated, trying to stay in control of her feelings. “You know, when I got up this morning, I told myself I wasn’t going to cry again. I told myself that I’d be strong and happy, so that you would remember me that way. But when I heard the shower come on, it just hit me that when I wake up tomorrow, you’re not going to be here, and I couldn’t help it. But I’ll be okay. I really will. I’m tough.”
She said it as though she were trying to convince herself. Paul reached for her hand.
“Adrienne . . . last night, after you went to sleep, I got to thinking that maybe I could stay a little while longer. An-other month or two isn’t going to make much difference, and that way we could be together—”
She shook her head, cutting him off.
“No,” she said, “You can’t do that to Mark. Not after all that you two have been through. And you need this, Paul. It’s been eating you up; if you don’t go now, part of me won-ders if you ever will. Spending more time with me isn’t going to make it any easier to say good-bye when the time comes, and I couldn’t live with myself knowing that I was the one who kept you and your son apart. Even if we planned for your leaving the next time, I’d still cry then, too.”
She flashed a brave smile before going on. “You can’t stay. We both knew you were leaving before the we part of us even began. Even though it’s hard, both of us also know it’s the right thing to do—that’s the way it is when you’re a parent. Sometimes there are sacrifices you have to make, and this is one of them.”
He nodded, his lips pressed together. He knew she was right hut wished desperately12 that she wasn’t.
“Will you promise that you’ll wait for me?” he asked fi-nally, his voice ragged.
“Of course. I thought you were leaving forever, I’d be crying so hard, we’d have to eat breakfast in a rowboat,”
Despite everything he laughed, and Adrienne leaned into him. She kissed him before letting him hold her. He could feel the warmth of her body, smell the faintest trace of perfume. She felt so good in his arms. So perfect.
“I don’t know how or why it happened, but I think I was meant to come here,” he said. “To meet you. For so many years, I’ve been missing something in my life, but I didn’t know what it was. And now I do.”
She closed her eyes. “Me too,” she whispered.
He kissed her hair, then rested his cheek against her.
“Will you miss me?”
Adrienne forced herself to smile. “Every single minute.”
They had breakfast together. Adrienne wasn’t hungry, but she forced herself to eat, forced herself to smile now and then. Paul picked at his food, taking longer than usual to clean his plate, and when they were finished, they brought the dishes to the sink.
It was almost nine o’clock, and Paul led her past the front desk toward the door. He lifted one duffel bag at a time to sling13 over his shoulders; Adrienne held the leather pouch14 with his tickets and passport, which she handed to him.
“I guess this is it,” he said.
Adrienne pressed her lips together. Like hers, Paul’s eyes were red around the edges, and he kept them downcast, as if trying to hide them.
“You know how to reach me at the clinic. I don’t know how good the mail service is, but letters should reach me. Mark’s always gotten everything Martha has sent him.”
“Thanks.”
He shook the pouch. “I have your address, too, in here. I’ll write to you when I get there. And call, too, when I get the chance.”
“Okay.”
He reached out to touch her cheek, and she leaned into his hand. They both knew there wasn’t anything more to say.
She followed him out the door and down the steps, watching as he loaded the duffel bags into the backseat of the car. After closing the door, he stared at her a long time, unwilling15 to break the connection, wishing again that he didn’t have to go. Finally he moved toward her, kissed her on both cheeks and on her lips. He took her in his arms.
Adrienne squeezed her eyes shut. He wasn’t leaving for-ever, she told herself. They were meant for each other; they would have all the time in the world when he got back. They would grow old together. She’d lived this long with-out him already—what was one more year, right?
But it wasn’t that easy. She knew that if her children were older, she would join him in Ecuador. If his son didn’t need him, he could stay here, with her. Their lives were di-verging because of responsibilities to others, and it sud-denly seemed cruelly unfair to Adrienne. How could their chance at happiness come down to this?
Paul took a deep breath and finally moved away. He glanced to the side for a moment, then back at her, dabbing at his eyes.
She followed him around to the driver’s side and watched as he got in. With a weak smile, he put the key in the ignition and turned it, revving16 the engine to life. She stepped back from the open door and he closed it, then rolled down the window.
“One year,” he said, “and I’ll be back. You have my word on that.”
“One year,” she whispered in response.
He gave her a sad smile, then put the car in reverse, and with that, the car began backing out. She turned to watch him, aching inside as he stared back at her.
The car turned as it reached the highway, and he pressed his hand to the glass one last time. Adrienne raised her hand, watching the car roll forward, away from Rodanthe, away from her.
She stood in the drive as the car grew smaller in the dis-tance and the noise of the engine faded away. Then, a mo-ment later, he was gone, as if he’d never been there at all.
The morning was crisp, blue skies with puffs17 of white. A flock of terns flew overhead. Purple and yellow pansies had opened their petals18 to the sun. Adrienne turned and made her way toward the door.
Inside, it looked the same as the day she’d arrived. Noth-ing was out of place. He’d cleaned the fireplace yesterday and stacked new cords of wood beside it; the rockers had been put back into their original position. The front desk looked orderly, with every key back in its place.
But the smell remained. The smell of their breakfast to-gether, the smell of aftershave, the smell of him, lingering on her hands and on her face and on her clothes.
It was too much for Adrienne, and the noises of the Inn at Rodanthe were no longer what they had once been. No longer were there echoes of quiet conversations, or the sound of water rushing through the pipes, or the rhythm of footfalls as he moved about in his room. Gone was the roar of waves and the persistent19 drumming of the storm, the crackling of the fire. Instead, the Inn was filled with the sounds of a woman who wanted only to be comforted by the man she loved, a woman who could do nothing else but cry.
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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dryer
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| n.干衣机，干燥剂 | |
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scribbling
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| n.乱涂[写]胡[乱]写的文章[作品]v.潦草的书写( scribble的现在分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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rimmed
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| adj.有边缘的，有框的v.沿…边缘滚动；给…镶边 | |
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thermos
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| n.保湿瓶，热水瓶 | |
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exhale
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| v.呼气，散出，吐出，蒸发 | |
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sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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dabbing
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| 石面凿毛，灰泥抛毛 | |
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constrict
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| v.压缩，收缩，阻塞 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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sling
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| vt.扔；悬挂；n.挂带；吊索，吊兜；弹弓 | |
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pouch
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| n.小袋，小包，囊状袋；vt.装...入袋中，用袋运输；vi.用袋送信件 | |
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15
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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revving
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| v.（使）加速( rev的现在分词 )；（数量、活动等）激增；（使发动机）快速旋转；（使）活跃起来 | |
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puffs
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| n.吸( puff的名词复数 )；（烟斗或香烟的）一吸；一缕（烟、蒸汽等）；（呼吸或风的）呼v.使喷出( puff的第三人称单数 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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petals
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| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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