The Notebook by Nicholas Sparks Page A

She would have a home near friends and family, children, a respectable place in society. It was the kind of life she’d always expected to live, the kind of life she wanted to live. And though she wouldn’t describe theirs as a passionate relationship, she had convinced herself long ago that this wasn’t necessary to be fulfilled in a relationship, even with a person she intended to marry. Passion would fade in time, and things like companionship and compatibility would take its place. She and Lon had this, and she had assumed this was all she needed.
    But now, as she watched Noah rowing, she questioned this basic assumption. He exuded sexuality in everything he did, everything he was, and she caught herself thinking about him in a way that an engaged woman shouldn’t. She tried not to stare and glanced away often, but the easy way he moved his body made it hard to keep her eyes from him for long.
    “Here we are,” Noah said as he guided the canoe toward some trees near the bank.
    Allie looked around, not seeing anything. “Where is it?”
    “Here,” he said again, pointing the canoe at an old tree that had fallen over, obscuring an opening almost completely hidden from view.
    He guided the canoe around the tree, and both of them had to lower their heads to keep from bumping them.
    “Close your eyes,” he whispered, and Allie did, bringing her hands to her face. She heard the baffles of the water and felt the movement of the canoe as he propelled it forward, away from the pull of the creek.
    “Okay,” he finally said after he’d stopped paddling. “You can open them now.”

Swans and Storms
    T hey sat in the middle of a small lake fed by the waters of Brices Creek. It wasn’t large, maybe a hundred yards across, and she was surprised at how invisible it had been just moments before.
    It was spectacular. Tundra swan and Canada geese literally surrounded them. Thousands of them. Birds floating so close together in some places that she couldn’t see the water. From a distance, the groups of swans looked almost like icebergs.
    “Oh, Noah,” she finally said softly, “it’s beautiful.”
    They sat in silence for a long while, watching the birds. Noah pointed out a group of chicks, recently hatched, following a pack of geese near the shore, struggling to keep up.
    The air was filled with honking and chirping as Noah moved the canoe through the water. The birds ignored them for the most part. The only ones who seemed bothered were those forced to move when the canoe approached them. Allie reached out to touch the closest ones and felt their feathers ruffling under her fingers.
    Noah brought out the bag of bread he’d brought earlier and handed it to Allie. She scattered the bread, favoring the little ones, laughing and smiling as they swam in circles, looking for food.
    They stayed until thunder boomed in the distance—faint but powerful—and both of them knew it was time to leave.
    Noah led them back to the current of the creek, paddling stronger than he had earlier. She was still amazed by what she had seen.
    “Noah, what are they doing here?”
    “I don’t know. I know the swans from up north migrate to Lake Matamuskeet every winter, but I guess they came here this time. I don’t know why. Maybe the early blizzard had something to do with it. Maybe they got off track or something. They’ll find their way back, though.”
    “They won’t stay?”
    “I doubt it. They’re driven by instinct, and this isn’t their place. Some of the geese may winter here, but the swans will go back to Matamuskeet.”
    Noah paddled hard as dark clouds rolled directly overhead. Soon rain began to fall, a light sprinkle at first, then gradually harder. Lightning ...a pause . . . then thunder again. A little louder now. Maybe six or seven miles away. More rain as Noah began to paddle even harder, his muscles tightening with every stroke.
    Thicker drops now.
    Falling . . .
    Falling with the wind . . .
    Falling hard and