Dear John (9 page)

Seven

I
must admit that you bring me to eat at the most interesting places,” Savannah said, glancing over her shoulder. In the distance beyond the dune, we could see a long line of customers snaking away from Joe’s Burger Stand in the middle of a gravel parking lot.

“It’s the best in town,” I said, taking a bite of my enormous burger.

Savannah sat close to me in the sand, facing the water. The burgers were fantastic, nice and thick, and though the French fries were a bit too greasy, they hit the spot. As she ate, Savannah stared at the sea, and in the waning light I found myself thinking that she seemed even more at home here than I did.

I thought again about the way she’d talked to my father. About the way she talked to everyone, for that matter, including me. She had the rare ability to be exactly what people needed when she was with them and yet still remain true to herself. I couldn’t think of anyone who remotely resembled her in appearance or personality, and I wondered again why she’d taken a liking to me. We were as different as two people could be. She was a mountain girl, gifted and sweet, raised by attentive parents, with a desire to help those in need; I was a tattooed army grunt, hard around the edges, and largely a stranger in my own home. Remembering how she’d been with my dad, I could tell how gracefully her parents had raised her. And as she sat beside me, I found myself wishing that I could be more like her.

“What are you thinking?”

Her voice, probing yet gentle, pulled me away from my thoughts.

“I was wondering why you’re here,” I confessed.

“Because I like the beach. I don’t get to do this very often. It’s not like there are any waves or shrimp boats where I’m from.”

When she saw my expression, she tapped my hand. “That was flippant,” she said, “I’m sorry. I’m here because I want to be here.”

I set aside the remains of my burger, wondering why I cared so much. It was a new feeling for me, one I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used to. She patted my arm and turned toward the water again.

“It’s gorgeous out here. All we need is a sunset over the water, and it would be perfect.”

“We’d have to go to the other side of the country,” I said.

“Really? You’re trying to tell me the sun sets in the west?”

I noted the mischievous gleam in her eye.

“That’s what I hear, anyway.”

She’d eaten only half of her cheeseburger, and she slipped it into the bag, then added the remains of mine as well. After folding the bag over so the wind wouldn’t blow it away, she stretched out her legs and turned to me, looking at once flirtatious and innocent.

“You want to know what I was thinking?” she asked.

I waited, drinking in the sight of her.

“I was thinking that I wished you’d been with me the last couple of days. I mean, I enjoyed getting to know everyone better. We ate lunch together, and the dinner last night was a lot of fun, but it just felt like something was wrong, like I was missing something. It wasn’t until I saw you walking up the beach that I realized it was you.”

I swallowed. In another life, in another time, I would have kissed her then, but even though I wanted to, I didn’t. Instead, all I could do was stare at her. She met my gaze without a hint of self-consciousness.

“When you asked me why I was here, I made a joke because I thought the answer was obvious. Spending time with you just feels . . . right, somehow. Easy, like the way it’s supposed to be. Like it is with my parents. They’re just comfortable together, and I remember growing up thinking that one day I wanted to have that, too.” She paused. “I’d like you to meet them one day.”

My throat had gone dry. “I’d like that, too.”

She slipped her hand easily into mine, her fingers intertwining with my own.

We sat in peaceful silence. At the water’s edge, terns were bobbing their beaks into the sand in search of food; a cluster of seagulls broke as a wave rolled in. The sky had grown darker and the clouds more ominous. Up the beach, I could see scattered couples walking under a spreading indigo sky.

As we sat together, the air filled with the crashing of the surf. I marveled at how new everything felt. New and yet comfortable, as if we’d known each other forever. Yet we weren’t even a real couple.
Nor,
a voice in my head reminded me,
is it likely you ever will be.
In a little more than a week, I’d be heading back to Germany and this would all be over. I’d spent enough time with my buddies to know that it takes more than a few special days to survive a relationship that spanned the Atlantic Ocean. I’d heard guys in my unit swear they were in love after coming off leave—and maybe they were—but it never lasted.

Spending time with Savannah made me wonder whether it was possible to defy the norm. I wanted more of her, and no matter what happened between us, I already knew I’d never forget anything about her. As crazy as it sounded, she was becoming part of me, and I was already dreading the fact that we wouldn’t be able to spend the day together tomorrow. Or the day after, or the day after that. Maybe, I told myself, we could beat the odds.

“Out there!” I heard her cry. She pointed toward the ocean. “In the breakers.”

I scanned an ocean the color of iron but didn’t see anything. Beside me, Savannah suddenly stood up and started running toward the water.

“Come on!” she shouted over her shoulder. “Hurry!”

I rose and started after her, puzzled. Breaking into a run, I closed the gap between us. She stopped at the water’s edge, and I could hear her breaths coming fast.

“What’s going on?” I said.

“Right there!”

When I squinted, I saw what she’d been referring to. Three of them were riding the waves, one after the next, then disappearing from view in the shallows, only to reappear again a little ways down the beach.

“Young porpoises,” I said. “They pass by the island almost every evening.”

“I know,” she said, “but it looks like they’re surfing.”

“Yeah, I suppose it does. They’re just having fun. Now that everyone’s out of the water, they feel like it’s safe to play.”

“I want to go in with them. I’ve always wanted to swim with the dolphins.”

“They’ll stop playing, or they’ll just move down the beach to where you can’t reach them. They’re funny that way. I’ve seen them while surfing. If they’re curious, they’ll come within a few feet and give you the once-over, but if you try to follow them, they’ll leave you in the dust.”

We continued to watch the porpoises as they moved away from us, eventually vanishing from view under a sky that had grown opaque.

“We should probably get going,” I said.

We made our way back to the car, stopping to pick up the remains from our dinner.

“I’m not sure the band will be playing yet, but it shouldn’t be long.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I’m sure we can find something to do. Besides, I should warn you, I’m not much of a dancer.”

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to. We could go someplace else if you’d like.”

“Like where?’

“Do you like ships?”

“What kind of ships?”

“Big ones,” I said. “I know this place where we can see the USS
North Carolina
.”

She made a funny face, and I knew the answer was no. Not for the first time did I wish I had my own place. Then again, I was under no illusions that she’d follow me home if I did. If I were her, I wouldn’t go either. I’m only human.

“Wait,” she said, “I know where we can go. I want to show you something.”

Intrigued, I asked, “Where?”

Considering Savannah’s group had started their work only yesterday, the house was surprisingly far along. Most of the framing was already finished, and the roof had been raised as well. Savannah stared out the window of the car before turning to me.

“Would you like to walk around? See what we’re doing?”

“I’d love to,” I said.

I followed her out of the car, noting the play of moonlight on her features. As I stepped onto the dirt of the work site, I realized I could hear songs from a radio emanating from one of the kitchen windows of the neighbors. A few steps from the entrance, Savannah motioned around the structure with obvious pride. I moved close enough to slip my arm around her, and she tilted her head against my shoulder as she relaxed into me.

“This is where I’ve spent the last couple of days,” she almost whispered in the nighttime quiet. “What do you think?”

“It’s great,” I said. “I’ll bet the family is thrilled.”

“They are. And they’re such a great family. They really deserve this place since it’s been such a struggle for them. Hurricane Fran destroyed their home, but like so many others, they didn’t have flood insurance. It’s a single mom with three kids—her husband ran out on her years ago—and if you met the family, you’d love them. The kids all get good grades and sing in the youth choir at church. And they’re just so polite and gracious . . . you can tell their mom has worked hard to make sure they turn out right, you know?”

“You’ve met them, I take it?”

She nodded toward the house. “They’ve been here the last couple of days.” She straightened. “Would you like to look around inside?”

Reluctantly, I let her go. “Lead the way.”

It wasn’t a large place—about the same size as my dad’s—but the floor plan was more open, which made it seem larger. Savannah took me by the hand and walked me through each room, pointing out features, her imagination filling in the detail. She mused about the ideal wallpaper for the kitchen and the color of tile in the entryway, the fabric of the curtains in the living room, and how to decorate the mantel over the fireplace. Her voice conveyed the same wonder and joy she’d expressed when seeing the porpoises. For an instant, I had a vision of what she must have been like as a child.

She led me back to the front door. In the distance, the first rumblings of thunder could be heard. As we stood in the doorway, I drew her near.

“There’s going to be a porch, too,” she said, “with enough room for a couple of rocking chairs, or even a swing. They’ll be able to sit out here on summer nights, and congregate here after church.” She pointed. “That’s their church right over there. That’s why this location is so perfect for them.”

“You sound like you really got to know them.”

“No, not really,” she said. “I talked to them a little bit, but I’m just guessing about all this. I’ve done that with every house I’ve helped to build—I walk through and try to imagine what the owners’ lives will be like. It makes working on the house a lot more fun.”

The moon was now hidden by clouds, darkening the sky. On the horizon, lightning flashed, and a moment later a soft rain began to fall, pattering against the roof. The oak trees lining the street, heavy with leaves, rustled in the breeze as thunder echoed through the house.

“If you want to go, we should probably leave before the storm hits.”

“We don’t have anywhere to go, remember? Besides, I’ve always loved thunderstorms.”

I pulled her closer, breathing in her scent. Her hair smelled sweet, like ripe strawberries.

As we watched, the rain intensified into a steady downpour, falling diagonally from the sky. Streetlamps provided the only light, casting half of Savannah’s face in shadow.

Thunder exploded overhead, and the rain began coming down in sheets. I could see the rain blowing onto the sawdust-covered floor, forming wide puddles in the dirt, and I was thankful that despite the rain, the temperature was warm. Off to the side, I spotted some empty crates. I left her side to collect them, then began to stack them into a makeshift seat. It wouldn’t be all that comfortable, but it would be better than standing.

As Savannah took a seat next to me, I suddenly knew that coming here had been the right thing to do. It was the first time we’d really been alone, but as we sat side by side, it felt as though we’d been together forever.

Eight

T
he crates, hard and unforgiving, made me question my wisdom, but Savannah didn’t seem to mind. Or pretended not to. She leaned back, felt the edge of the rear crate press into her skin, then sat up again.

“Sorry,” I said, “I thought it would be more comfortable.”

“It’s okay. My legs are exhausted and my feet hurt. This is perfect.”

Yes, I thought, it was. I thought back to nights on guard duty, when I’d imagine sitting beside the girl of my dreams and feeling all was right with the world. I knew now what I’d been missing all these years. When I felt Savannah rest her head on my shoulder, I found myself wishing I hadn’t joined the army. I wished I weren’t stationed overseas, and I wished I’d chosen a different path in life, one that would have let me remain a part of her world. To be a student at Chapel Hill, to spend part of my summer building houses, to ride horses with her.

“You’re awful quiet,” I heard her say.

“Sorry,” I said. “I was just thinking about tonight.”

“Good things, I hope.”

“Yeah, good things,” I said.

She shifted in her seat, and I felt her leg brush against mine. “Me too. But I was thinking about your dad,” she said. “Has he always been like he was tonight? Kind of shy and glancing away when he talks to people?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Why?”

“Just curious,” she said.

A few feet away, the storm seemed to be reaching its climax as another sheet of rain broke from the clouds. Water poured off all sides of the house like waterfalls. Lightning flashed again, closer this time, and thunder crashed like a cannon. Had there been windows, I imagined they would have rattled in their casings.

Savannah scooted closer, and I put my arm around her. She crossed her legs at the ankles and leaned against me, and I felt as if I could hold her this way forever.

“You’re different from most of the guys I know,” she observed, her voice low and intimate in my ear. “More mature, less . . . flighty, I guess.”

I smiled, liking what she said. “And don’t forget my crew cut and tattoos.”

“Crew cut, yes. Tattoos . . . well, they sort of come with the package, but no one’s perfect.”

I nudged her and pretended to be wounded. “Well, had I known how you feel, I wouldn’t have got them.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said, pulling back. “But I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have said that. I was speaking more about how I’d feel about getting one. On you, they do tend to project a certain . . . image, and I suppose it fits.”

“What image is that?”

She pointed to the tattoos, one by one, starting with the Chinese character. “This one tells me that you live life by your own rules and don’t always care what people think. The infantry one shows that you’re proud of what you do. And the barbed wire . . . well, that goes with who you were when you were younger.”

“That’s quite the psychological profile. Here I thought it was just that I liked the designs.”

“I’m thinking about getting a minor in psychology.”

“I think you already have one.”

Though the wind had picked up, the rain finally began to slow.

“Have you ever been in love?” she asked, switching gears suddenly.

Her question surprised me. “That came out of the blue.”

“I’ve been told that being unpredictable adds to the mysteriousness of women.”

“Oh, it does. But to answer your question, I don’t know.”

“How can you not know?”

I hesitated, trying to think of what to say. “I dated a girl a few years back, and at the time, I knew I was in love. At least, that’s what I’d told myself. But now, when I think back, I’m just . . . not sure anymore. I cared about her and I enjoyed spending time with her, but when we weren’t together, I barely thought about her. We were together, but we weren’t a couple, if that makes any sense.”

She considered my answer but said nothing. In time, I turned toward her. “How about you? Have you ever been in love?”

Her face clouded. “No,” she said.

“But you thought you were. Like me, right?” When she inhaled sharply, I went on. “In my squad, I have to use a bit of psychology, too. And my instincts tell me there was a serious boyfriend in your past.”

She smiled, but there was something sad in it. “I knew you’d figure it out,” she said in a subdued voice. “But to answer your question, yes, there was. During my freshman year in college. And yes, I did think I loved him.”

“Are you sure you didn’t love him?”

It took her a long time to answer. “No,” she murmured. “I’m not.”

I stared at her. “You don’t have to tell me—”

“It’s okay,” she said, raising her hand to cut me off. “But it’s hard. I’ve tried to forget about it, and it’s something that I’ve never even told my parents. Or anyone, for that matter. It’s such a cliché, you know? Small-town girl goes off to college and meets a handsome senior, who’s also president of his fraternity. He’s popular and rich and charming, and the little freshman is awed that he could be interested in someone like her. He treats her like she’s special, and she knows that other freshman girls are jealous, so she begins to feel special, too. She agrees to go to the winter formal at one of these fancy out-of-town hotels with him and some other couples, even though she’s been warned that the guy isn’t as kind or sensitive as he appears to be, and that in reality, he’s the kind of boy who carves notches in his bed frame for every girl he’s had.”

She closed her eyes, as if summoning the energy to continue. “She goes against the better judgment of her friends, and even though she doesn’t drink and he happily brings her a soda, she starts getting woozy anyway, and he offers to take her back to the hotel room so she can lie down. And the next thing she knows, they’re on the bed kissing, and she likes it at first, but the room is really spinning, and it doesn’t occur to her until later that maybe someone—maybe him—put something in her drink and that carving another notch with her name on it had been his goal all along.”

Her words began to come faster, tumbling over one another. “And then he starts groping at her breasts and her dress gets torn and then her panties get torn, too, but he’s on top of her and he’s so heavy and she can’t get him off, and she feels really helpless and wants him to stop since she’s never done this before, but by then she’s so dizzy she can barely talk and can’t call for help, and he probably would have had his way with her except that another couple who was staying in the room happened to show up, and she staggers out of the room crying and holding her dress. Somehow she finds her way to the lobby bathroom and keeps crying there, and other girls she’d traveled to the formal with come in and see the smeared mascara and torn dress and instead of being supportive, they laugh at her, acting like she should have known what was coming and got what she deserved. Finally she ends up calling a friend who hopped in his car and drove out there to pick her up, and he was smart enough not to ask any questions the whole way back.”

By the time she finished, I was rigid with anger. I’m no saint with women, but I’ve never once in my life considered forcing a woman to do something she rather wouldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” was all I could muster.

“You don’t have to be sorry. You didn’t do it.”

“I know. But I don’t know what else to say. Unless . . .” I trailed off, and after a moment she turned to me. I could see the tears running down her cheeks, and the fact that she’d been crying so silently made me ache.

“Unless what?”

“Unless you want me to . . . I don’t know. Beat the crap out of him?”

She gave me a sad little laugh. “You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to do just that.”

“I will,” I said. “Just give me a name, but I promise to leave you out of it. I’ll do the rest.”

She squeezed my hand. “I know you would.”

“I’m serious,” I said.

She gave a wan smile, looking simultaneously world-weary and painfully young. “That’s why I won’t tell you. But believe me, I’m touched. That’s sweet of you.”

I liked the way she said it, and we sat together, hands clasped tightly. The rain had finally stopped, and in its place I could hear the sounds of the radio next door again. I didn’t know the song, but I recognized it as something from the early jazz era. One of the guys in my unit was a fanatic about jazz.

“But anyway,” she went on, “that’s what I meant when I said it wasn’t always easy my freshman year. And it was the reason I wanted to quit school. My parents, bless their hearts, thought that I was homesick, so they made me stay. But . . . as bad as it was, I learned something about myself. That I could go through something like that and survive. I mean, I know it could have been worse—a lot worse—but for me, it was all I could have handled at the time. And I learned from it.”

When she finished, I found myself remembering something she’d said. “Was Tim the one who brought you back from the hotel that night?”

She looked up, startled.

“Who else would you call?” I said by way of explanation.

She nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. And he was great. To this day, he hasn’t asked about the specifics, and I haven’t told him. But since then he’s been a little protective, and I can’t say that I mind.”

In the silence, I thought about the courage she had shown, not only that night, but afterward. Had she not told me, I would never have suspected anything bad had ever happened to her. I marveled that despite what happened, she had managed to hold on to her optimistic view of the world.

“I promise to be a perfect gentleman,” I said.

She turned to me. “What are you talking about?”

“Tonight. Tomorrow night. Whenever. I’m not like that guy.”

She traced a finger along my jaw, and I felt my skin tingle beneath her touch. “I know,” she said, sounding amused. “Why do you think I’m here with you now?”

Her voice was so tender, and again, I suppressed the urge to kiss her. It wasn’t what she needed, not now, even though it was difficult to think of anything else.

“Do you know what Susan said after that first night? Once you left and I went back to the group?”

I waited.

“She said you looked scary. Like you were the last person on earth she would have ever wanted to be alone with.”

I grinned. “I’ve been told worse,” I assured her.

“No, you’re missing my point. My point is that I remember thinking that she didn’t know what she was talking about, because when you first handed me my bag on the beach, I saw honesty and confidence and even something tender, but nothing frightening at all. I know it sounds crazy, but it felt like I already knew you.”

I turned away without responding. Below the streetlamp, mist was rising from the ground, a remnant of the heat of the day. Crickets had begun to sound, singing to one another. I swallowed, trying to soothe the sudden dryness in my throat. I looked at Savannah, then up to the ceiling, then to my feet, and finally back to Savannah again. She squeezed my hand, and I drew a shaky breath, marveling at the fact that while on an ordinary leave in an ordinary place, I’d somehow fallen in love with an extraordinary girl named Savannah Lynn Curtis.

She saw my expression but misinterpreted it. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” she whispered. “I do that sometimes. Act too forward, I mean. I just blurt out what I’m thinking without taking into account how it might come across to others.”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” I said, turning her face to me. “I’ve just never had anyone say anything like that to me before.”

I almost stopped there, aware that if I kept the words inside, the moment would pass and I would escape without putting my feelings on the line.

“You have no idea how much the last few days have meant to me,” I began. “Meeting you has been the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” I hesitated, knowing that if I stopped now, I’d never be able to say it to anyone. “I love you,” I whispered.

I had always imagined the words would be hard to say, but they weren’t. In all my life, I’d never been as sure of anything, and as much as I hoped to one day hear Savannah say these words to me, what mattered most was knowing that love was mine to give, without strings or expectations.

Outside, the air was beginning to cool, and I could see pools of water shimmering in the moonlight. The clouds had begun to break up, and between them, an occasional star blinked, as if to remind me of what I’d just admitted.

“Did you ever imagine something like this?” she wondered aloud. “You and me, I mean?”

“No,” I said.

“It scares me a little.”

My stomach flipped, and all at once, I was sure she didn’t feel the same way.

“You don’t have to say it back to me,” I began. “That’s not why I said it—”

“I know,” she interrupted. “You don’t understand. I wasn’t scared because you told me. I got scared because I wanted to say it, too: I love you, John.”

Even now, I’m still not sure how it happened. One instant we were talking, and in the next she leaned toward me. For a second, I wondered whether kissing her would break the spell we both were under, but it was too late to stop. And when her lips met mine, I knew that I could live to be a hundred and visit every country in the world, but nothing would ever compare to that single moment when I first kissed the girl of my dreams and knew that my love would last forever.