the notebook-恋恋笔记本(英文版)-第14部分

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nd　she　had　time　to　watch　strangers　going　about　their　Business　as　she　drove　through　New　Bern。　At　a　service　station；　a　mechanic　was　looking　under　the　bon　of　a　new　car。　Two　women　were　pushing　prams　just　outside　Hoffman…Lane；　chatting　while　they　window…shopped。

　She　saw　the　inn　just　up　the　street　while　she　was　stopped　at　a　red　light。　She　took　a　deep　breath　when　the　light　turned　green　and　drove　slowly　until　she　reached　the　parking　lot。　She　turned　in　and　saw　Lon's　car　sitting　in　the　first　spot。　Although　the　one　next　to　it　was　open；　she　passed　it　and　picked　a　spot　a　little　further　from　the　entrance。

She　turned　off　the　engine；　then　reached　into　the　glove　partment　for　a　mirror　and　brush。　Looking　at　herself；　she　saw　her　eyes　were　still　red　and　puffy。　Like　yesterday　after　the　rain；　she　was　sorry　she　didn't　have　any　make…up；　though　she　doubted　it　would　help　much　now。　She　reached　for　her　purse；　opened　it；　and　once　again　looked　at　the　article　that　had　brought　her　here。　It　felt　impossible　to　her　that　she　had　arrived　only　the　day　before　yesterday。　It　seemed　like　a　lifetime　since　her　dinner　with　Noah。

Starlings　chirped　in　the　trees　around　her。　The　clouds　had　begun　to　break　up　now；　and　Allie　could　see　blue　in　between　patches　of　white。　It　was　going　to　be　a　beautiful　day。

It　was　the　kind　of　day　she　would　have　liked　to　spend　with　Noah；　and　as　she　was　thinking　about　him；　she　remembered　the　letters　her　mother　had　given　her　and　reached　for　them。　She　untied　the　package　and　found　the　first　letter　he　had　written　her。　She　began　to　open　it；　then　stopped　because　she　could　imagine　what　was　in　it。　Something　simple；　no　doubt—things　he'd　done；　memories　of　the　summer；　perhaps　some　questions。　Instead　she　reached　for　the　last　letter；　the　one　on　the　bottom　of　the　stack。　The　goodbye　letter。　This　one　interested　her　far　more。　How　had　he　said　it？　How　would　she　have　said　it？

The　envelope　was　thin。　One；　maybe　two　pages。　Whatever　he　had　written　wasn't　too　long。　She　turned　it　over　and　checked　the　back。　No　name；　just　a　street　address　in　New　Jersey。　She　held　her　breath　as　she　used　her　fingernail　to　prise　it　open。

Unfolding　it；　she　saw　it　was　dated　March　1935。　Two　and　a　half　years　without　a　reply。

She　straightened　the　page　and　began　to　read。

My　dearest　Allie；

I　don't　know　what　to　say　any　more　except　that　I　couldn't　sleep　last　night　because　I　knew　that　it　is　over　between　us。　It　is　a　different　feeling　for　me；　one　that　I　never　expected。　Looking　back；　I　suppose　it　couldn't　have　ended　another　way。　

You　and　I　were　different。　We　came　from　different　worlds；　and　yet　you　were　the　one　who　taught　me　the　value　of　love。　You　showed　me　what　it　was　like　to　care　for　another；　and　I　am　a　better　man　because　of　it。　I　don't　want　you　ever　to　forget　that。

I　am　not　bitter　because　of　what　has　happened。　On　the　contrary　I　am　secure　in　knowing　that　what　we　had　was　real；　and　I　am　happy　we　were　able　to　e　together　for　even　a　short　time。　And　if；　in　some　distant　place　in　the　future；　we　see　each　other　in　our　new　lives；　I　will　smile　at　you　with　joy；　and　remember　how　we　spent　a　summer　learning　from　each　other　and　growing　in　love。　And　maybe；　for　a　brief　moment；　you'll　feel　it　too；　and　you'll　smile　back　and　savour　the　memories　we　will　always　share。

I　love　you；　Allie。

Noah

She　read　the　letter　again；　then　put　it　back　into　the　envelope。　She　knew　she　couldn't　delay　any　longer。　Lon　was　waiting　for　her。

Her　legs　felt　weak　as　she　stepped　out　of　the　car。　She　paused　and　took　a　deep　breath；　and　as　she　started　across　the　parking　lot　she　realized　that　she　still　wasn't　sure　what　she　was　going　to　say　to　him。

And　the　answer　didn't　finally　e　until　she　reached　the　door　and　opened　it　and　saw　Lon　standing　in　the　lobby。

CHAPTER　EIGHT：　WINTER　FOR　TWO

THE　STORY　ends　there；　so　I　close　the　notebook；　remove　my　glasses　and　wipe　my　eyes。　I　look　at　her　now　that　I　have　finished；　but　she　does　not　look　back。　Instead　she　is　staring　out　of　the　window　at　the　courtyard；　where　friends　and　family　meet。

I　read　to　her　this　morning；　as　I　do　every　morning；　because　it　is　something　I　must　do。　Not　for　duty—although　I　suppose　a　case　could　be　made　for　this—but　for　another；　more　romantic　reason。　I　wish　I　could　explain　it　more　fully　right　now；　but　it's　still　early；　and　talking　about　romance　isn't　really　possible　before　lunch　any　more；　　at　least　not　for　me。　Besides；　I　have　no　idea　how　it's　going　to　turn　out；　and　to　be　honest；　I'd　rather　not　get　my　hopes　up。

We　spend　every　day　together　now；　but　our　nights　are　spent　alone。　The　doctors　tell　me　that　I'm　not　allowed　to　see　her　after　dark。　I　understand　the　reasons；　and　though　I　agree　with　them　pletely　I　sometimes　break　the　rules。　Late　at　night　when　my　mood　is　right；　I　will　sneak　from　my　room　and　go　to　hers　and　watch　her　while　she　sleeps。　Of　this　she　knows　nothing。　I'll　e　in　and　see　her　breathe　and　know　that；　had　it　not　been　for　her；　I　would　never　have　married。

And　when　I　look　at　her　face；　a　face　I　know　better　than　my　own；　I　know　that　I　have　meant　as　much　to　her。　And　that　means　more　to　me　than　I　could　ever　hope　to　explain。

Sometimes；　when　I　am　standing　there；　I　think　about　how　lucky　I　am　to　have　been　married　to　her　for　almost　forty…nine　years。　Next　month　it　will　be　that　long。　She　heard　me　snore　for　the　first　forty…five；　but　since　then　we　have　slept　in　separate　rooms。　I　do　not　sleep　well　without　her。　I　toss　and　turn　and　yearn　for　her　warmth　and　lie　there　most　of　the　night；　eyes　open　wide；　watching　the　shadows　dance　across　the　ceilings　like　tumbleweeds　rolling　across　the　desert。　I　sleep　two　hours　if　I　am　lucky；　and　still　I　wake　before　dawn。

I　shuffle　towards　her　and　sit　in　the　chair　beside　her　bed。　My　back　aches　when　I　sit。　I　must　get　a　new　cushion　for　this　chair；　I　remind　myself　for　the　hundredth　time。　I　reach　for　her　hand　and　take　it；　bony　and　fragile。　It　feels　nice。　She　responds　with　a　twitch；　and　gradually　her　thumb　begins　to　rub　my　finger　softly。　I　do　not　speak　until　she　does；　this　I　have　learned。　Most　days　I　sit　in　silence　until　the　sun　goes　down。

Minutes　pass　before　she　finally　turns　to　me。　She　is　crying。　I　smile　and　release　her　hand；　then　reach　in　my　pocket。　I　take　out　a　handkerchief　and　wipe　at　her　tears。　She　looks　at　me　as　I　do　so；　and　I　wonder　what　she　is　thinking。

〃That　was　a　beautiful　story。〃

A　light　rain　begins　to　fall。　Little　drops　tap　gently　on　the　window。　I　take　her　hand　again。　It　is　going　to　be　a　good　day；　a　very　good　day。　A　magical　day。　I　smile；　I　can't　help　it。

〃Yes；　it　is；〃　I　tell　her。

〃Did　you　write　it？〃　she　asks；　her　voice　like　a　whisper。

〃Yes；〃　I　answer。

She　turns　towards　the　nightstand。　Her　Medicine　is　in　a　little　cup。　　Mine　too。　Little　pills；　colours　like　a　rainbow　so　we　won't　forget　to　take　them。　They　bring　mine　here　to　her　room　now；　even　though　they're　not　supposed　to。

〃I've　heard　it　before；　haven't　I？〃

〃Yes；〃　I　say　again；　just　as　I　do　every　time。　I　have　learned　to　be　patient。

She　studies　my　face。　Her　eyes　are　as　green　as　ocean　waves。

〃It　makes　me　feel　less　afraid；〃　she　says。

〃I　know。〃　I　nod；　rocking　my　head　softly。

She　turns　away；　and　I　wait　some　more。　She　releases　my　hand　and　reaches　for　her　water　glass。　She　takes　a　sip。

〃Is　it　a　true　story？〃　She　sits　up　a　little　in　her　bed　and　takes　another　drink。　Her　body　is　still　strong。　〃I　mean；　did　you　know　these　people？〃

〃Yes；〃　I　say　again。　I　could　say　more；　but　usually　I　don't。　She　is　still　beautiful。

She　asks　the　obvious。　〃Well；　which　one　did　she　finally　marry？〃

I　answer；　〃The　one　who　was　right　for　her。〃

〃Which　one　was　that？〃

I　smile。　〃You'll　know；〃　I　say　quietly；　〃by　the　end　of　the　day。　You'll　know。〃

She　does　not　question　me　further。　Instead　she　begins　to　fidget。　She　is　thinking　of　a　way　to　ask　me　another　question；　though　she　isn't　sure　how　to　do　it。

A　bird　starts　to　sing　outside　the　window　and　we　both　turn　our　heads。　We　sit　quietly　for　a　while；　enjoying　something　beautiful　together。　Then　it　is　lost；　and　she　sighs。　〃I　have　to　ask　you　something　else；〃　she　says。

〃Whatever　it　is；　I'll　try　to　answer。〃

〃It's　hard；　though。〃

She　does　not　look　at　me　and　I　cannot　see　her　eyes。　This　is　how　she　hides　her　thoughts。　Some　things　never　change。

〃Take　your　time；〃　I　say。　I　know　what　she　will　ask。

Finally　she　turns　to　me　and　looks　into　my　eyes。　She　offers　a　gentle　smile；　the　kind　you　share　with　a　child；　not　a　lover。

〃I　don't　want　to　hurt　your　feelings　because　you've　been　so　nice　to　me；　but。。。〃

I　wait。　Her　words　will　hurt　me。　They　will　tear　a　piece　from　my　heart　and　leave　a　scar。

〃Who　are　you？〃

　　　　WE　HAVE　LIVED　at　Creekside　Extended　Care　Facility　for　three　years　now。　It　was　her　decision　to　e　here；　partly　because　it　was　near　our　home；　but　also　because　she　thought　it　would　be　easier　for　me。　We　boarded　up　our　Home　because　neither　of　us　could　bear　to　sell　it；　signed　some　papers；　and　received　a　place　to　live　and　die　in　exchange　for　some　of　the　freedom　for　which　we　had　worked　a　lifetime。

She　was　right　to　do　this；　of　course。　There　is　no　way　I　could　have　made　it　alone；　for　sickness　has　e　to　us；　both　of　us。　We　are　in　the　final　minutes　in　the　day　of　our　lives；　and　the　clock　is　ticking。　Loudly。　I　wonder　if　I　am　the　only　one　who　can　hear　it。

A　throbbing　pain　courses　through　my　fingers；　and　it　reminds　me　that　we　have　not　held　hands　with　fingers　interlocked　since　we　moved　here。　I　am　sad　about　this；　but　it　is　my　fault；　not　hers。　It　is　arthritis　in　the　worst　form；　rheumatoid　and　advanced。　My　hands　are　misshapen　and　grotesque　now；　and　they　throb　through　most　of　my　waking　hours。　But　every　day　I　take　her　hands　despite　the　pain；　and　I　do　my　best　to　hold　them　because　that　is　what　she　wants　me　to　do。

Although　the　Bible　says　man　can　live　to　be　a　hundred　and　twenty；　I　don't　want　to；　and　I　don't　think　my　body　would　make　it　even　if　I　did。　It　is　falling　apart；　steady　erosion　on　the　inside　and　at　the　joints。　My　kidneys　are　beginning　to　fail　and　my　heart　rate　is　decreasing　every　month。　Worse；　I　have　cancer　again；　this　time　of　the　prostate。　This　is　my　third　bout　with　the　unseen　enemy；　and　it　will　take　me　eventually；　though　not　till　I　say　it　is　time。　The　doctors　are　worried　about　me；　but　I　am　not。　I　have　no　time　for　worry　in　this　twilight　of　my　life。

Of　our　five　children；　four　are　still　living；　and　though　it　is　hard　for　them　to　visit；　they　e　often；　and　for　this　I　am　thankful。　But　even　when　they　aren't　here；　they　e　alive　in　my　mind　every　day；　each　of　them；　and　they　bring　to　mind　the　smiles　and　tears　that　e　with　raising　a　family。　A　dozen　pictures　line　the　walls　of　my　room。　They　are　my　heritage；　my　contribution　to　the　world。　I　am　very　proud。　Sometimes　I　wonder　what　my　wife　thinks　of　them　as　she　dreams；　or　if　she　thinks　of　them　at　all；　or　if　she　even　dreams。　There　is　so　much　about　her　I　don't　understand　any　more。

〃My　name；〃　I　say；　〃is　Duke。〃　I　have　always　been　a　John　Wayne　fan。

〃Duke；〃　she　whispers　to　herself；　〃Duke。〃　She　thinks　for　a　moment；　her　forehead　wrinkled；　her　eyes　serious。

〃Yes；〃　I　say；　〃I'm　here　for　you。〃　And　always　will　be；　I　think　to　myself。

She　flushes　with　my　answer。　Her　eyes　bee　wet　and　red；　and　tears　begin　to　fall。　My　heart　aches　for　her；　and　I　wish　for　the　thousandth　time　that　there　was　something　I　could　do。

She　says；　〃I'm　sorry。　I　don't　understand　anything　that's　happening　to　me　right　now。　Even　you。　When　I　listen　to　y