the not | Page 2

I wonder, will it happen today? I don�t know,
for I never know beforehand and deep down it really doesn�t matter.
It�s the possibility that keeps me going. And though you may call me
a dreamer or a fool. I believe that anything is possible.
I realize that the odds, and science, are against me. But science is not
the total answer. This I know, this I have learned in my lifetime. And
that leaves me with the belief that miracles, no matter how
inexplicable or unbelievable, are real and can occur without regard to
the natural order of things. So once again, just as I do every day, I
begin to read the notebook aloud, so that she can hear it, in the hope
that the miracle that has come to dominate my life will once again
prevail.
And maybe, just maybe, it will.
CHAPTER TWO GHOSTS
It was early October 1946, and Noah Calhoun watched the fading
sun sink lower from the porch of his plantation-style home. He liked
to sit here in the evenings, especially after working hard all day, and
let his thoughts wander. It was how he relaxed, a routine he�d learned
from his father.
He especially liked to look at the trees and their reflections in the
river. North Carolina trees are beautiful in deep autumn: greens,
yellows, reds, oranges, every shade in between, their dazzling colours
glowing with the sun.
The house was built in 1772, making it one of the oldest, as well as
largest, homes in New Bern. Originally it was the main house on a
working plantation, and he had bought it right after the war ended and
had spent the last eleven months and a small fortune repairing it. The
reporter from the Raleigh paper had done an article on it a few weeks
ago and said it was one of the finest restorations he�d ever seen. At
least the house was. The rest of the property was another story, and
that was where Noah had spent most of the day.
The home sat on twelve acres adjacent to Brices Creek, and he�d
worked on the wooden fence that lined the other three sides of the
property; checking for dry rot or termites, replacing posts where he
had to. He still had more work to do on the west side, and as he�d put
the tools away earlier he�d made a mental note to call and have some
more timber delivered. He�d gone into the house, drunk a glass of
sweet tea, then showered, the water washing away dirt and fatigue.
Afterwards he�d combed his hair back, put on some faded jeans and
a long-sleeved blue shirt, poured himself another glass of tea and
gone to the porch, where he sat every day at this time.
He reached for his guitar, remembering his father as he did so,
thinking how much he missed him. Noah strummed once, adjusted the
tension on two strings, then strummed again, soft, quiet music. He
hummed at first, then began to sing as night came down around him.
It was a little after seven when he stopped and settled back into his
rocking chair. By habit, he looked upwards and saw Orion, the Big
Dipper and the Pole Star, twinkling in the autumn sky.
He started to run the numbers in his head, then stopped. He knew
he�d spent almost his entire savings on the house and would have to
find a job again soon, but he pushed the thought away and decided to
enjoy the remaining months of restoration without worrying about it.
It would work out for him, he knew: it always did.
Cem, his hound dog, came up to him then and nuzzled his hand
before lying down at his feet. Hey girl, how�re you doing?� he asked
as he patted her head, and she whined softly, her soft round eyes
peering upwards. A car accident had taken one of her legs, but she
still moved well enough and kept him company on nights like these.
He was thirty-one now, not too old, but old enough to be lonely. He
hadn�t dated since he�d been back here, hadn�t met anyone who
remotely interested him, It was his own fault, he knew. There was
something that kept a distance between him and any woman who
started to get close, something he wasn�t sure he could change even if
he tried. And sometimes, in the moments before sleep, he wondered if
he was destined to be alone for ever.
The evening passed, staying warm, nice. Noah listened to the
crickets and the rustling leaves, thinking that the sound of nature was
more real and aroused more emotion than things like cars and planes.
Natural things gave back more than they took, and their sounds
always brought him back to the way man was supposed to he. There
were times during the war, especially after a major engagement, when
he had often thought about these simple sounds. �It�ll keep you from
going crazy,� his father had told him the day he�d shipped out. �It�s
God�s music and it�ll take you home.�
He finished his tea, went inside, found a book, then turned on the
porch light on his way