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he brought her to this house, looked past the
decay, and told her that one day he was going to own it and fix it up.
They spent hours together talking about their dreams�his of seeing
the world, hers of being an artist�and on a humid night in August.
They both lost their virginity. When she left three weeks later, she
took a piece of him and the rest of summer with her. He watched her
leave town on an early rainy morning, watched through eyes that
hadn�t slept the night before, then went home and packed a hag. He
spent the next week alone on Harkers Island.
Noah checked his watch. Eight twelve. He got up and walked to the
front of the house and looked up the road. Gus wasn�t in sight, and
Noah figured he wouldn�t be coming. He went back to his rocker and
sat again.
He remembered talking to Gus about her. The first time he
mentioned her. Gus started to shake his head and laugh. �So that�s the
ghost you been running from.� When asked what he meant. Gus said.
�You know, the ghost, the memory. I been watchin� you workin� day
and night, slavin� so hard you barely have time to catch your breath.
People do that for three reasons. Either they crazy, or stupid, or tryin�
to forget. And with you, I knew you was tryin� to forget. I just didn�t
know what.�
Gus was right, of course. New Bern was haunted now. Haunted by
the ghost of her memory. He saw her in Fort Totten Park, their place,
every time he walked by. When he sat on the porch at night with his
guitar, he saw her beside him, listening as he played the music of his
childhood. Everywhere he looked, he saw things that brought her
back to life.
Noah shook his head, and when her image began to fade he returned
to Whitman. He read for an hour, looking up every now and then to
see raccoons and possums scurrying near the creek. At nine thirty he
closed the book, went upstairs to the bedroom and wrote in his
journal. Forty minutes later he was sleeping. Clem wandered up the
stairs, sniffed him as he slept, and then paced in circles before finally
curling up at the foot of his bed.
EARLIER THAT evening and a hundred miles away, she sat alone
on the porch swing of her parents� home, one leg tucked beneath her,
wondering if she�d made the right decision. She�d struggled with it
for days�and had struggled some more this evening�but in the end
she knew she would never forgive herself if she let the opportunity
slip away.
Lon didn�t know the real reason she left the following morning. The
week before, she�d hinted to him that she might want to visit some
antique shops near the coast. �It�s just a couple of days,� she said,
�and besides, I need a break from planning the wedding.� She felt bad
about the lie, but knew there was no way she could tell him the truth.
Her leaving had nothing to do with him, and it wouldn�t he fair of her
to ask him to understand.
It was an easy drive from Raleigh, slightly more than two hours, and
she arrived a little before eleven. She checked into a small inn
downtown, went to her room and unpacked her suitcase, hanging her
dresses in the closet and putting everything else in the drawers. She
had a quick lunch, asked the waitress for directions to the nearest
antique stores, then spent the next few hours shopping. By four thirty
she was back in her room.
She sat on the edge of the bed, picked up the phone and called Lon.
He couldn�t speak long, but before they hung up she gave him the
phone number where she was staying and promised to call the
following day. Good, she thought while hanging up the phone.
Routine conversation, nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing to make
him suspicious.
She�d known him almost four years now, it was 1942 when they
met, the world at war and America one year in. Everyone was doing
their part and she was volunteering at the hospital downtown. The
first waves of wounded young soldiers were coming home, and she
spent her days with broken men and shattered bodies. When Lon, with
his easy charm, introduced himself at a party, she saw in him exactly
what she needed: someone with confidence about the future and a
sense of humour that drove all her fears away.
He was handsome, intelligent and driven, a successful lawyer eight
years older than she, and he pursued his job with passion, not only
winning cases but also making a name for himself. She understood his
vigorous pursuit of success, for her father and most of the men she
met in her social circle were the same way. Like them, he�d been
raised that way, and, in the caste system of the South, family name
and accomplishments were often the most important consideration in
marriage. In some cases they were the only consideration.
Though she had quietly rebelled against this idea since childhood
and had dated a few men