Nights in Rodanthe

Paul hesitated. He didn't have to explain himself, not to her, not to anyone, but as he walked on under the flickering sky on a cold January evening, he suddenly realized that he wanted her to know him--really know him, in all his contradictions.

"You're right," he began, "because I am talking about two people. I used to be Paul Flanner the hard-driving kid who grew up to be a surgeon. The guy who worked all the time. Or Paul Flanner the husband and father with the big house in Raleigh. But these days, I'm not any of those things. Right now, I'm just trying to figure out who Paul Flanner really is, and to be honest, I'm beginning to wonder if I'll ever find the answer."

"I think everyone feels that way sometimes. But not many people would be inspired to move to Ecuador as a result."

"Is that why you think I'm going?"

They walked in silence for a few steps before Adrienne looked at him. "No," she said, "my guess is that you're going so you can get to know your son."

Adrienne saw the surprise on his face.

"It wasn't that hard to figure out," she said. "You hardly mentioned him all night. But if you think it'll help, then I'm glad you're going."

He smiled. "Well, you're the first. Even Mark wasn't too thrilled when I let him know."

"He'll get over it."

"You think so?"

"I hope so. That's what I tell myself when I'm having trouble with my kids."

Paul gave a short laugh and motioned over his shoulder. "You want to head back?" he asked.

"I was hoping you'd say that. My ears are getting cold."

They circled back, following their own footprints in the sand. Though the moon wasn't visible, the clouds above were shining silver. In the distance, they heard the first rumbling of thunder.

"What was your ex-husband like?"

"Jack?" She hesitated, wondering whether to try to change the subject, then decided it didn't matter. Who was he going to tell? "Unlike you," she finally said, "Jack thinks he found himself already. It just happened to be with someone else while we were married."

"I'm sorry."

"So am I. Or I was, anyway. Now it's just one of those things. I try not to think about it."

Paul remembered the tears he'd seen earlier. "Does that work?"

"No, but I keep trying. I mean, what else can I do?"

"You could always go to Ecuador."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, wouldn't that be nice? I could come home and say something like 'Sorry, kids, you're on your own. Mom's taking off for a while.' " She shook her head. "No, for the time being, I'm kind of stuck. At least until they're all in college. Right now, they need as much stability as they can get."

"Sounds like you're a good mother."

"I try. My kids don't always think so, though."

"Look at it this way--when they have their own kids, you can get your revenge."

"Oh, I plan on it. I've already been practicing. How about some potato chips before dinner? No, of course you don't have to clean your room. Sure you can stay up late...."

Paul smiled again, thinking how much he was enjoying the conversation. Enjoying her. In the silver light of the approaching storm, she looked beautiful, and he wondered how her husband could have left her.

They made their way back to the house slowly, both of them lost in thought, taking in the sounds and sights, neither feeling the need to speak.

There was comfort in that, Adrienne thought. Too many people seemed to believe that silence was a void that needed to be filled, even if nothing important was said. She'd experienced enough of that at the endless circuit of cocktail parties that she'd once attended with Jack. Her favorite moments then had been when she'd been able to slip away unobserved and spend a few minutes on a secluded porch. Sometimes there would be someone else out there, someone she didn't know, but when they saw each other, each would nod, as if making a secret pact. No questions, no small talk... agreed.

Here, on the beach, the feeling returned. The night felt refreshing, the breeze lifting her hair and burnishing her skin. Shadows spread out before her on the sand, moving and shifting, forming into almost recognizable images, then vanishing from sight. The ocean was a swirl of liquid coal. Paul, she knew, was absorbing all those things as well; he also seemed to realize that talking now would somehow ruin it all.

They walked on in companionable silence, Adrienne more certain with every step that she wanted to spend more time with him. But that wasn't so odd, was it? He was lonely and so was she, solitary travelers enjoying a deserted stretch of sand in an oceanside village called Rodanthe.

When they reached the house, they stepped inside the kitchen and slipped off their jackets. Adrienne hung hers on the coatrack beside the door along with her scarf; Paul hung his beside it.

Adrienne brought her hands together and blew through them, seeing Paul look toward the clock, then around the kitchen, as if wondering whether he should call it a night.

"How about something warm to drink?" she offered quickly. "I can brew a fresh pot of decaf."

"Do you have any tea?" he asked.

"I think I saw some earlier. Let me check."

She crossed the kitchen, opened the cupboard near the sink, then moved assorted goods to the side, liking the fact that they'd have a bit more time together. A box of Earl Grey was on the second shelf, and when she turned around to show it to him, Paul nodded with a smile. She moved around him to get the kettle, then added water, conscious of how close they were standing to each other. When it whistled, she poured two cups and they went to the sitting room.

They took their places in the rockers again, though the room had changed now that the sun had dropped. If possible, it seemed quieter, more intimate in the darkness.

As they drank their tea, they talked for another hour about this and that, the easy conversation of casual friends. In time, though, as the evening was winding down, Adrienne found herself confiding in him about her father and the fears she had for the future.

Paul had heard similar scenarios before; as a doctor, he encountered such stories regularly. But until that moment, they'd been just that: stories. His parents were gone, and Martha's parents were alive and well and living in Florida; but he could tell by Adrienne's expression that her dilemma was something he was glad he wouldn't have to face.

"Is there something I can do?" he offered. "I know a lot of specialists who could review his chart and see if there's a way to help him."

"Thank you for the offer, but no, I've done all that. The last stroke really set him back. Even if there was something that might help a little, I don't think there's any chance that he could function without round-the-clock care."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know. I'm hoping Jack will change his mind about coming up with additional financial support for my dad, and he might. He and my father were pretty close for a while. But if not, I guess I'll look for a full-time position so I can pay for it."

"Can't the state do anything?"

As soon as he said the words, he knew what her answer would be.

"He might be eligible for assistance, but the good places have long waiting lists, and most of them are a couple of hours away, so I wouldn't be able to see him regularly. And the not-so-good places? I couldn't do that to him."

She paused, her thoughts flashing between the past and present. "When he retired," she finally said, "they had a small party at the plant for him, and I remember thinking that he was going to miss going in every day. He'd started working there when he was fifteen, and in all the years he spent with them, he took only two sick days. I figured it out once--if you added up all the hours he spent working there, it would be fifteen years of his life, but when I asked him about it, he said he wasn't going to miss it at all. That he had big plans now that he was finished."

Adrienne's expression softened. "What he meant was that he was planning to do the things he wanted instead of the things he had to do. Spending time with me, with the grandkids, with his books, or with fri

ends. He deserved a few easy years after all he'd been through, and then..." She trailed off before meeting Paul's eyes. "You would like him if you met him. Even now."

"I'm sure I would. But would he like me?"