"I don't know how to say it. I thought I did at first, but now I'm not so sure …."
The air was suddenly rattled by the sharp cry of a raccoon, and Clem came out fromunder the porch, barking gruffly. Both of them turned at the commotion, and Alliewas glad for the distraction.
"Is he yours?" she asked. Noah nodded, feeling the tightness in his stomach. "Actuallyit's a she. Clementine's her name. But yeah, she's all mine." They both watched asClem shook her head, stretched, then wandered toward the sounds. Allie's eyeswidened just a bit when she saw her limp away.
"What happened to her leg?" she asked, stalling for time.
"Hit by a car a few months back. Doc Harrison, the vet, called me to see if I wantedher because her owner didn't anymore. After I saw what had happened, I guess I justcouldn't let her be put down."
"You were always nice like that," she said, trying to relax. She paused, then lookedpast him toward the house. "You did a Wonderful job restoring it. It looks perfect,just like 1 knew it would someday."
He turned his head in the same direction as hers while he wondered about the smalltalk and what she was holding back.
"Thanks, that's nice of you. It was quite a pro‐iect, though. I don't know if I would doit again."
"Of course you would," she said. She knew exactly how he felt about this place. Butthen, she knew how he felt about everything‐‐or at least she had a long time ago. Andwith that thought, she realized how much had changed since then. They werestrangers now; she could tell by looking at him. Could tell that fourteen years apartwas a long time. Too long.
"What is it, Allie?" He turned to her, compelling her to look, but she continued tostare at the house.
"I'm being rather silly, aren't I?" she asked, trying to smile.
"What do you mean?"
"This whole thing. Showing up out of the blue, not knowing what I want to say. Youmust think I'm crazy."
"You're not crazy," he said gently. He reached for her hand, and she let him holdit as they stood next to one another. He went on: "Even though I don't knowwhy, I can see this is hard for you. Why don't we go for a walk?" "Like we usedto?" "Why not? I think we both could use one." She hesitated and looked to hisfront door.
"Do you need to tell anyone?" He
shook his head.
"No, there's no one to tell. It's just me and Clem."
Even though she'd asked, she had suspected there wouldn't be anyone else, andinside she didn't know how to feel about that. But it did make what she wanted tosay a little harder. It would have been easier if there was someone else.
They started toward the river and turned on a path near the bank. She let go of hishand, surprising him, and walked on with just enough distance between them so thatthey couldn't accidentally touch.
He looked at her. She was pretty still, with thick hair and soft eyes, and she moved sogracefully that it almost seemed as though she were gliding. He'd seen beautifulwomen before, though, women who caught his eye, but to his mind they usuallylacked the traits he found most desirable. Traits like intelligence, confidence,strength of spirit, passion, traits that inspired others to greatness, traits he aspiredto himself.
Allie had those traits, he knew, and as they walked now, he sensed them once againlingering beneath the surface. "A living poem" had always been the words that cameto mind when he tried to describe her to others.
"How long have you been back here?" she asked as the path gave way to a small grasshill.
"Since last December. I worked up north for a while, then spent the last three yearsin Europe."
She looked to him with questions in her eyes. "The war?" Henodded and she went on.
"I thought you might be there. I'm glad you made it out okay." "Metoo," he said.
"Are you glad to be back home?"
"Yeah. My roots are here. This is where I'm supposed to be." He paused. "Butwhat about you?" He asked the question softly, suspecting the worst. It was along moment before she answered. "I'm engaged."
He looked down when she said it, suddenly feeling just a bit weaker. So that was it.
That's what she needed to tell him.
"Congratulations," he finally said, wondering how convincing he sounded. "When'sthe big day?"
"Three weeks from Saturday. Lon wanted a November wedding."
"Lon?"
"Lon Hammond Jr. My fiancé."
He nodded, not surprised. The Hammonds were one of the most powerful andinfluential families in the state. Cotton money. Unlike that of his own father, thedeath of Lon Hammond Sr. had made the front page of the newspaper. "I've heardof them. His father built quite a business. Did Lon take over for him?"
She shook her head. "No, he's a lawyer. He has his own practice downtown." "Withhis name, he must be busy."
"He is. He works a lot."
He thought he heard something in her tone, and the next question cameautomatically. "Does he treat you well?"
She didn't answer right away, as if she were considering the question for the firsttime. Then:
"Yes. He's a good man, Noah. You would like him."
Her voice was distant when she answered, or at least he thought it was. Noahwondered if it was just his mind playing tricks on him.
