olympic怎么读要有声音的
olympic怎么读要有声音的
09-05-02 &匿名提问 发布
因而，我们的目光更多地投向了与我们当今的生活休戚相关的热点：Olympic .... 品牌在 选材时就应给予足够的关注并在材料取舍时做出抉择，即：尽可能使用有声音的英语学习 材料；要 .... 招聘高薪政府雇员公务员怎么办？ ·, 面试专家独创六顶思考帽解题方法 ...
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Olympic [?u'limpik]基本翻译adj. 奥林匹克的网络释义Olympic:奥林匹克|奥运会|奥林帕斯Olympic Games:奥运会|奥林匹克运动会|奥林匹克Olympic torch:奥运火炬|奥林匹克火炬|奥运圣火
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A few minutes later, Paul put his empty cup on the tray, then carried the tray to the kitchen.Adrienne was still on the phone when he got there, her back toward him. She was leaning against the counter, one leg crossed over the other, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers. From her tone, he could tell she was finishing up, and he set the tray on the counter.“Yes, I got your note ... uh-huh . . yes, he’s already checked in. There was a long pause as she listened, and when she spoke again, Paul heard her voice drop. “It’s been on the news all day. . . . From what I hear, it’s supposed to be big. . . Oh, okay. . . under the house?. . Yeah, I suppose I can do that I mean, how hard can it be, right?.You’re welcome. . . . Enjoy the wedding. . . . Good-bye.”Paul was putting his cup in the sink when she turned around.“You didn’t have to bring that in,” she said.“I know, but I was coming this way anyway. I wanted to find out what we were having for dinner.”“Are you getting hungry?”Paul turned on the faucet. “A little. But we can wait if you’d rather.”“No, I’m getting hungry, too.” Then, seeing what he was about to do, she added: “Here, let me do that. You’re the guest.”Paul moved aside for her as Adrienne joined him near the sink. She rinsed the cups and pot as she spoke.“Your choices tonight are chicken, steak, or pasta with a cream sauce. I can make whichever one you want, but just realize that what you don’t eat today, you’ll probably eat to-morrow. I can’t guarantee we’ll find a store open this week-end.”“Anything’s fine, You pick.”“Chicken? It’s already thawed.”“Sure.”“And I was thinking of having potatoes and green beans on the side.”“Sounds great.”She dried her hands with a paper towel, then reached for the apron that was slung over the handle of the oven. Slip-ping it over her sweater, she went on.“Are you interested in salad, too?”“If you’re having one. But if not, that’s okay, too.”She smiled. “Boy, you weren’t kidding when you said you weren’t picky.”“My motto is that as long as I don’t have to cook it, I’ll eat just about anything.”“You don’t like to cook?”“Never really had to. Martha—my ex—was always try-ing out new recipes. And since she left, I’ve pretty much been eating out every night.”“Well, try not to hold me to restaurant standards. I can cook, but I’m not a chef. As a general rule, my sons are more interested in quantity, not originality.”“I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’d be glad to give you a hand, though.”She glanced at him, surprised by the offer. “Only if you want to. If you’d rather relax upstairs or read, I can let you know when it’s ready.”He shook his head. “I didn’t bring anything to read, and if I lie down now, I won’t be able to sleep tonight.”She hesitated, considering his offer before finally mo-tioning toward the door on the far side of the kitchen. “Well . . . thanks. You can start by peeling the potatoes. They’re in the pantry right over there, second shelf, next to the rice.”Paul headed for the pantry. As she opened the refrigera-tor to get the chicken out, she watched him from the cor-ner of her eye, thinking it was both nice—and a little disconcerting—to know that he’d be helping her in the kitchen. There was an implied familiarity to it that left her slightly off balance.“Is there anything to drink?” Paul called out from behind her, “In the refrigerator, I mean?”Adrienne pushed aside a few items before looking on thebottom shelf. There were three bottles lying on their sides, held in place by a jar of pickles.“Do you like wine?”“What kind is it?”She set the chicken on the counter, then pulled one of the bottles out.“It’s a pinot grigio. Is that okay?”“I’ve never tried it. I usually go with a chardonnay. Have you?”“No.”He crossed the kitchen, carrying the potatoes. After set-ting them on the counter, he reached for the wine. Adri-enne saw him study the label for a moment before looking up.“Sounds okay, Says it’s got hints of apples and oranges, so how bad can it be? Do you know where I might find a corkscrew?”“I think I saw one in one of the drawers around here. Let me check.”Adrienne opened the drawer below the utensils, then the one next to it, without luck. When she finally located it, she handed it to him, feeling her fingers brush against his. With a few quick moves, he removed the cork and set it off to the side. Hanging below the cabinet near the oven were glasses, and Paul moved toward them. He took one out and hesitated.“Would you like me to pour you a glass?”“Why not?” she said, still feeling the sensation of his touch.Paul poured two glasses and brought one over. He smelled the wine, then took a sip as Adrienne did the same. As the flavor lingered on the back of her throat, she found herself still trying to make sense of things.“What do you think?” he asked.“It’s good.”“That’s what I think.” He swirled the wine in his glass. “Actually, it’s better than I thought it would be. I’ll have to remember this.”Adrienne felt the sudden urge to retreat and took a small step backward. “Let me get started on the chicken.”“I guess that’s my signal to get to work.”As Adrienne found the roasting pan beneath the oven, Paul set his glass on the counter and moved to the sink. After turning on the faucet, he soaped and scrubbed his hands. She noticed that he washed both the front and the back, then cleaned his fingers individually. She turned on the oven, set it to the temperature she wanted, and heard the gas click to life.“Is there a peeler handy?” he asked.“I couldn’t find one earlier, so I think you’ll have to use a paring knife. Is that okay?”Paul laughed under his breath. “I think I can handle it. I’m a surgeon,” he said.As soon as he said the words, it all clicked: the lines on his face, the intensity of his gaze, the way he’d washed his hands. She wondered why she hadn’t thought of it before. Paul moved beside her and reached for the potatoes, then began cleaning them.“You practiced in Raleigh?” she asked.“I used to. I sold my practice last month.”“You retired?”“In a way. Actually, I’m heading off to join my son.”“In Ecuador?”“If he’d asked, I would have recommended the south of France, but I doubt he would have listened to me.”She smiled. “Do they ever?”“No. But then again, I didn’t listen to my father, either. It’s all part of growing up, I guess.”For a moment, neither of them said anything. Adrienne added assorted spices to the chicken. Paul started to peel, his hands moving efficiently.“I take it Jean’s worried about the storm,” he com-mented.She glanced at him. “How could you tell?”“Just the way you got quiet on the phone. I figured she was telling you what needed to be done to get the house ready.”“You’re pretty perceptive.”“Is it going to be hard? I mean, I’d be glad to help if you need it.”“Be careful—I just might take you up on that. My cx-husband was the one who was good with a hammer, not me. And to be honest, he wasn’t all that good, either.”“It’s an overrated skill, I’ve always believed.” He set the first potato on the chopping block and reached for the sec-ond one. “If you don’t mind my asking, how long have you been divorced?”She wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about this, but sur-prised herself by answering anyway.“Three years. But he’d been gone for a year before that.”“Do the kids live with you?”“Most of the time. Right now, they’re on school break, so they’re visiting their father. How long’s it been for you?”“Just a few months. It was final last October. But she was gone for a year before that, too.”“She was the one who left?”Paul nodded. “Yeah, but it was more my fault than hers. I was hardly home, and she just got fed up with it. If I were her, I probably would have done the same thing.”Adrienne mused over his answer, thinking that the man standing next to her seemed nothing like the man he just described. “What kind of surgery did you do?”After he told her, she looked up. Paul went on, as if an-ticipating questions.“I got into it because I liked to see the obvious results of what I was doing, and there was a lot of satisfaction in knowing that I was helping people. In the beginning, it was mainly reconstructive work after accidents, or birth defects, things like that. But in the last few years, it’s changed. N people come in for plastic surgery. I’ve done more nose jobs in the past six months than I ever imagined possible.”“What do I need done?” she asked playfully. He shook his head. “Nothing at all.”“Seriously.”“I am being serious. I wouldn’t change a thing.”“Really ?”He raised two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”“Were you ever a Scout?”She laughed but felt her cheeks redden anyway. “Well, thank you.”“You’re welcome.”When the chicken was ready, Adrienne put it into the oven and set the timer, then washed her hands again. Paul rinsed the potatoes and left them near the sink.“What next?”“There are tomatoes and cucumbers for the salad in the refrigerator.”Paul moved around her, opened the door, and found them. Adrienne could smell his cologne lingering in the small space between them.“What was it like growing up in Rocky Mount?” he asked.Adrienne wasn’t quite sure what to say at first, but after a few minutes, she settled into the type of chitchat that was both familiar and comfortable. She shared stories of her fa-ther and mother, she mentioned the horse her father had bought for her when she was twelve, and she recalled the hours they’d spent taking care of it together and how it had taught her more about responsibility than anything she’d done to that point. Her college years were described with fondness, and she mentioned how she’d bumped into Jack at a fraternity party during her senior year. They’d dated for two years, and when she took her vows, she’d done so with the belief it would last forever. She’d trailed off then, shak-ing her head slightly, and turned the topic to her children, not wanting to dwell on the divorce.As she spoke, Paul threw the salad together, topping it with the croutons she’d bought earlier, asking questions every so often, just enough to let her know he was inter-ested in what she was saying. The animation on her face as she talked about her father and her children made him smile.Dusk was settling in, and shadows began stretching across the room. Adrienne set the table as Paul added some more wine to both their glasses. When the meal was ready, they took their places at the table.Over dinner, it was Paul who did most of the talking. Paul told her about his childhood on the farm, described the ordeals of medical school and the time he spent run-ning cross-country, and spoke about some of his earlier vis-its to the Outer Banks. When he shared memories of his father, Adrienne considered telling him what was going on with hers, but at the last minute she held back. Jack and Martha were menti so was Mark. For the most part, their conversation touched only on the sur-face of things, and for the time being, neither one of them was ready to go any deeper than that.By the time they finished dinner, the wind had slowed to a breeze and the clouds balled together in the calm before the storm. Paul brought the dishes to the sink as Adrienne stored the leftovers in the refrigerator. The wine bottle was empty, the tide was coming in, and the first images of light-ning began to register on the distant horizon, making the world outside flash, as if someone were taking photographs in hopes of remembering this night forever. 53After helping her with the dishes, Paul nodded toward the back door,“Would you like to join me for a stroll on the beach?” he asked. “It looks like a nice night.”“Isn’t it getting cold?”“I’m sure it is, but I have the feeling it’ll he the last chance we get for a couple of days.”Adrienne glanced out the window. She should stay and finish cleaning up the rest of the kitchen, but that could wait, right?“Sure,” she agreed, “just let me get a jacket.”Adrienne’s room was located off the kitchen, in a room that Jean had added on a dozen years ago. It was larger than the other rooms in the house and had a bathroom that had been designed around a large Jacuzzi bathtub. Jean took baths regularly, and whenever Adrienne had called her when her spirits were low, it was always the remedy that Jean recommended to make herself feel better. “What you need is a long, hot, relaxing bath,” she’d say, oblivious to the fact that there were three kids in the house who mo-nopolized the bathrooms and that Adrienne’s schedule didn’t allow for much free time.From the closet, Adrienne retrieved her jacket, then grabbed her scarf. Wrapping it around her neck, she glanced at the clock and was amazed at how quickly the hours had seemed to pass. By the time she’d returned to the kitchen, Paul was waiting for her with his coat on.“You ready?” he asked.She folded up the collar on her jacket. “Let’s go. But I have to warn you, I’m not a real big fan of cold weather. My southern blood’s a little thin.”“We won’t be out long. I promise.”He smiled as they stepped outside, and Adrienne flipped the light switch that illuminated the steps. Walking side by side, they headed over the low dune, toward the compact sand near the water’s edge.There was an exotic b the air was crisp and fresh, and the flavor of salt hung in the mist. On the horizon, lightning was flickering in steady rhythm, making the clouds blink. As she glanced in that direction, she noticed that Paul was watching the sky as well. His eyes, she thought, seemed to register everything.“Have you ever seen that before? Lightning like that?” he asked.“Not in the winter. In the summer, it happens every now and then.”“It’s from the fronts coming together. I saw it start up when we were having dinner, and it makes me think this storm is going to be bigger than they’re predicting.”“I hope you’re wrong.”“I might be.”“But you doubt it.”He shrugged. “Let’s just say had I known it was coming, I would have tried to reschedule.”“Why?”“I’m not a big fan of storms anymore. Do you remember Hurricane Hazel? In 1954?”“Sure, but I was kind of young then, I was more excited than scared when we lost power at the house. And Rocky Mount wasn’t hit that hard, or at least our neighborhood wasn’t.”“You’re lucky. I was twenty-one at the time and I was at Duke. When we heard it was coming, a few of the guys on the cross-country team thought it would be a good bonding experience if we went down to Wrightsville Beach to have a hurricane party. I didn’t want to go, but since I was the captain, they sort of guilted me into it.”“Isn’t that where it came ashore?”“Not exactly, but it was close enough. By the time we got there, most of the people had evacuated the island, but we were young and stupid and made our way over anyway. At first, it was kind of fun. We kept taking turns trying to lean into the wind and keep our balance, thinking the whole thing was great and wondering why everyone had been making such a big deal about it. After a few hours, though, the wind was too strong for games and the rain was coming down in sheets, so we decided to head back to Durham. But we couldn’t get off the island. They’d closed the bridges once the wind topped fifty miles an hour, and we were stuck. And the storm kept getting worse. By two A.M., it was like a war zone. Trees were toppling over, roofs were tearing off, and everywhere you looked, something that could kill us was flying past the windows of the car. And it was louder than you could imagine. Rain was just pounding the car and that was when the storm surge hit, It was high tide and a full moon to boot, and the biggest waves I’d ever seen were coming in, one right after the next. Luckily, we were far enough from the beach, but we watched four homes wash away that night. And then, when we didn’t think it could get any worse, power lines started snapping. We watched the transformers explode one right after the next, and one of the lines landed near the car. It whipped in the wind the rest of the night. It was so close we could see the sparks, and there were times when it nearly hit the car. Other than praying, I don’t think any of us said a sin-gle word to each other the rest of the night. It was the dumbest thing I ever did.”Adrienne hadn’t taken her eyes from him as he spoke.“You’re lucky you lived.”“I know.”On the beach, the violence of the waves had caused foam to form that looked like soap bubbles in a child’s bath.“I’ve never told that story before,” Paul finally added. “To anyone, I mean.”“Why not?”“Because it wasn’t . . . me, somehow. I’d never done any-thing risky like that before, and I never did anything like it afterward. It’s almost like it happened to someone else. You’d have to know me to understand. I was the kind of guy who wouldn’t go out on Friday nights so that I wouldn’t fall behind in my studies.”She laughed. “I doubt that.”“It’s true. I didn’t.”As they walked the hard-packed sand, Adrienne glanced at the homes behind the dunes. No other lights were on, and in the shadows, Rodanthe struck her as a ghost town.“Do you mind if I tell you something?” she asked. “I mean, I don’t want you to take it the wrong way.”“I won’t.”They took a few steps as Adrienne wrestled with her words.“Well . . . it’s just that when you talk about yourself, it’s almost like you’re talking about someone else. You say you used to work too much, but people like that don’t sell their practice to head off to Ecuador. You say you didn’t do crazy things, but then you tell me a story in which you did. I’m just trying to figure it out.”Paul hesitated, He didn’t have to explain himself, not to her, not to anyone, but as he walked on under the flicker-ing 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 won-der 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 some-one 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, nei-ther 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 fa-vorite 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
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 coat-rack beside the door
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 decal.”“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 hit 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 possi-ble, 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, Adri-enne found herself confiding in him about her father and the fears she had for the future.Paul had heard simi 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 F 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 hack. 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 he.“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 friends. 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?”Adrienne smiled. “My dad likes everyone. Before his strokes, there was nothing more enjoyable to him than lis-tening to people talk and learning what they were all about. He was endlessly patient, and because of that, peo-ple always opened up to him. Even strangers. They would tell him things they wouldn’t tell anyone else because they knew he could be trusted.” She hesitated. “You want to know what I remember most, though?”Paul raised his eyebrows slightly.“It was something he used to say to me, ever since I was a little girl. No matter how good or bad I’d done in any-thing, no matter if I was happy or sad, my dad would always give me a hug and tell me, ‘I’m proud of you.”She was quiet for a moment. “I don’t know what it is about those words, but they always moved me. I must have heard them a million times, but every time he said them, they left me with the feeling that he’d love me no matter what. It’s funny, too, because as I got older, I used to joke with him about it. But even then, when I was getting ready to leave, he’d say it anyway, and I’d still get all mushy in-side.”Paul smiled. “He sounds like a remarkable man.”“He is,” she said, and sat up straighter in her chair. “And because of that, I’ll work it out so he won’t have to leave. It’s the best place in the world for him. It’s close to home, and not only is the care exceptional, but they treat him like a person there, not just a patient. He deserves a place like that, and it’s the least I can do.”“He’s lucky he has you as a daughter to watch out for him.”“I’m lucky, too.” As she stared toward the wall, her eyes seemed to lose their focus. Then she shook her head, sud-denly realizing what she’d been saying. “But listen to me going on and on. I’m sorry.”“No reason to be sorry. I’m glad you did.”With a smile, she leaned forward slightly. “What do you miss the most about being married?”“I take it we’re changing the subject.”“I figured it was your turn to share.”“It’s the least I could do?”She shrugged. “Something along those lines. Now that I’ve spilled my guts, it’s your turn.”Paul gave a mock sigh and gazed up at the ceiling. “Okay, what I miss.” He brought his hands together. “I guess it’s knowing that someone is waiting for me when I get home from work. Usually, I wouldn’t be home until late, and sometimes Martha would already be in bed. But the knowledge that she was there seemed natural and re-assuring, like the way things should be. How about you?”Adrienne set her teacup on the table between them.“The usual things. Someone to talk to, to share meals with, those quick morning kisses before either of us had brushed our teeth, But to be honest, with the kids, I’m more worried about what they’re missing than what I am right now. I miss having Jack around, for their sake. I think little kids need a mom more than they need a dad, but as teenagers, they need their dads. Especially girls. I don’t want my daughter thinking that men are jerks who walk out on their family, but how am I going to teach her that if her own father did it?”“I don’t know.”Adrienne shook her head. “Do men think aboutthose things ?’’“The good ones do. Like in everything else.”“How long were you married?”“Thirty years. You?”“Eighteen.”“Between the two of us, you’d think we’d have figured it out, huh?”“What? The key to happily ever after? I don’t think there is one anymore.”“No, I guess you’re right.”From the hallway, they heard the grandfather clock be-ginning to chime. When it stopped, Paul rubbed the back of his neck, trying to work out the soreness from the drive. “I think I’m ready to turn in. Early day tomorrow.”“I know,” she agreed, “I was just thinking the same thing.”But they didn’t get up right away. Instead, they sat to-gether for a few more minutes with the same silence they’d shared on the beach. Occasionally, he glanced toward her, but he would turn away before she caught him.With a sigh, Adrienne got up from her chair and pointed toward his cup. “I can bring that into the kitchen. I’m going that way.”He smiled as he handed it over. “I had a good time tonight.”“So did I.”A moment later, Adrienne watched as Paul headed up the stairs before she turned away and began closing up the Inn.In her room, she slipped out of her clothes and opened her suitcase, looking for a pair of pajamas. As she did, she caught the reflection of herself in the mirror. Not too bad, but let’s be honest here—she looked her age. Paul, she thought, had been sweet when he’d said she’d needed nothing done.It had been a long time since someone had made her feel attractive. She put on a pair of pajamas and crawled into bed, Jean had a stack of magazines on the stand, and she browsed the articles for a few minutes before turning out the light. In the darkness, she couldn’t stop thinking about the evening she’d just spent. The conversations replayed e she could see the way the corners of his mouth formed into a crooked smile whenever she’d said some-thing he found humorous. For an hour, she tossed and turned, unable to sleep, growing frustrated, and completely unaware of the fact that in the room upstairs, Paul Flanner was doing exactly the same thing. 54Despite closing the shutters and drapes to keep out the morning light, Paul woke with Friday’s dawn, and he spent ten minutes stretching the ache from his body.Swinging open the shutters, he took in the morning. There was a deep haze over the water, and the skies were gunmetal gray. Cumulous clouds raced along, rolling paral-lel with the shore. The storm, he thought, would be here before nightfall, more likely by midafternoon.He sat on the edge of the bed as he slipped into his run-ning gear, then added a windbreaker over the top. From the drawer, he removed an extra pair of socks and slipped them on his hands. Then, after padding down the stairs, he looked around. Adrienne wasn’t up, and he felt a short stab of disappointment at not seeing her, then suddenly won-dered why it mattered. He unlocked the door, and a minute later he was trudging along, letting his body warm up be-fore he moved into a steadier pace.From her bedroom, Adrienne heard him descend the creaking steps. Sitting up, she pushed off the covers and slipped her feet into a pair of slippers, wishing she’d at least had some coffee ready for Paul when he awoke. She wasn’t sure he would have wanted any before his run, but she could at least have made the offer.Outside, Paul’s muscles and joints were beginning to loosen and he quickened his stride, It wasn’t anywhere near the pace he’d run in his twenties or thirties, but it was steady and refreshing.Running had never been simply exercise for him. He’d reached the point where running wasn’ it seemed to take no more energy to jog five miles than it did to read the paper. Instead, he viewed it as a form of medi-tation, one of the few times he could be alone.It was a wonderful morning to run. Though it had rained during the night and he could see drops on the windshields of cars, the shower must have passed through the area quickly, because most of the roads had already dried. Ten-drils of mist lingered in the dawn and moved in ghostly procession from one small home to the next. He would have liked to run on the beach since he didn’t often have that opportunity, but he decided to use his run to find the home of Robert Torrelson instead. He ran along the high-way, passing through downtown, then turned at the first corner, his eyes taking in the scene.In his estimation, Rodanthe was exactly what it ap-peared to he: an old fishing village riding the water’s edge, a place where modern life had been slow in coming. Every home was made of wood, and though some were in better repair than others, with small, well-tended yards and a thin patch of dirt where bulbs would blossom in the spring, he could see evidence of the harshness of coastal life every-where he looked. Even homes that were no more than a dozen years old were decaying. Fences and mailboxes had small holes eaten away by the weather, paint had peeled, tin roofs were streaked with long, wide rows of rust. Scat-tered in the front yards were various items of everyday life in this part of the world: skiffs and broken boat engines, fishing nets used as decoration, ropes and chains used to keep strangers at bay.Some homes were no more than shacks, and the walls seemed precariously balanced, as if the next strong wind might topple them over. In some cases, the front porches were sagging and had been propped up by an assortment of utilitarian items to keep them from giving way completely: concrete bloc two-by-fours that pro-truded from below like short chopsticks.But there was activity here, even in the dawn, even in those homes that looked abandoned. As he ran, he saw smoke billowing from chimneys and watched men and women covering windows with plywood. The sound of hammering had begun to fill the air.He turned at the next block, checked the street sign, and ran on. A few minutes later, he turned onto the street where Robert Torrelson lived. Robert Torrelson, he knew, lived at number thirty-four.He passed number eighteen, then twenty, and raised his eyes, looking ahead. A couple of the neighbors stopped their work and watched him as he jogged by, their eyes wary. A moment later, he reached Robert Torrelson’s home, trying not to be obvious as he glanced toward it.It was a home like most of the others along the street:not exactly well tended, but not a shack, either. Rather, it was somewhere in between—a sort of stalemate between man and nature in their battle over the house. At least half a century old, the house was single sto without gutters to divert runoff, the rain of a thousand storms had streaked the white paint with gray, On the porch were two weathered rockers angled toward each other. Around the windows, he could see a lone strand of Christmas lights.Toward the back of the property was a small outbuilding with the front doors propped open. Inside were two work-benches, covered with nets and fishing rods, chests and tools. Two large grappling hooks were leaning against the wall, and he could see a yellow rain slicker hanging on a peg, just inside. From the shadows behind it, a man emerged, car-rying a bucket.The figure caught Paul off guard, and he turned away be-fore the man could see him staring. It was too early to pay him a visit, nor did he want to do this in running clothes. Instead, he raised his chin against the breeze, turned at the next corner, and tried to find his earlier pace.It wasn’t easy. The image of the man stayed with him, making him feel sluggish, each step more difficult than the last. Despite the cold, by the time he finished, there was a thin sheen of sweat on his face.He walked the last fifty yards to the Inn, letting his legs cool down. From the road, he could see that the light in the kitchen had been turned on.Knowing what it meant, he smiled.While Paul was out, Adrienne’s children had phoned and she’d spent a few minutes talking to each of them, glad they were having a good time with their father. A little while later, at the top of the hour, she called the nursing home.Though her father couldn’t answer the phone, she’d made arrangements to have Gail, one of the nurses, answer for him, and she’d picked up on the second ring.“Right on time,” Gail said. “I was just telling your father that you’d be calling any minute.”“How’s he doing today?”“He’s a little tired, but other than that, he’s fine. Hold on while I put the phone by his ear, okay?”A moment later, when she heard her father’s raspy breaths, Adrienne closed her eyes.“Hi, Daddy,” she started, and for several minutes she vis-ited with him, just as she would have had she been there with him. She told him about the Inn and the beach, the storm clouds and the lightning, and though she didn’t mention Paul, she wondered if her father could hear the same tremor in her voice that she could as she danced around his name.Paul made his way up the steps, and inside, the aroma of bacon filled the air, as if welcoming him home. A moment later, Adrienne pushed through the swinging doors.She was wearing jeans and a light blue sweater that ac-cented the color of her eyes. In the morning light, they were almost turquoise, reminding him of crystal skies in spring.“You were up early.” she said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.To Paul, the gesture seemed oddly sensual, and he wiped at the sweat on his brow. “Yeah, I wanted to get my run out of the way before the rest of the day starts.”“Did it go okay?”“I’ve felt better, but at least it’s done.” He shifted from one foot to the other. “It smells great in here, by the way.”“I started breakfast while you were out.” She motioned over her shoulder. “Do you want to eat now or wait a lit-tle?”“I’d like to shower first, if that’s okay.”“It’s fine. I was thinking of making grits, which take twenty minutes anyway. How do you want your eggs?”“Scrambled ?”“I think I can manage that.” She paused, liking the frankness of his stare and letting it continue for a moment longer. “Let me get the bacon before it burns,” she finally said. “See you in a few?”“Sure.”After watching her go, Paul climbed the steps to his room, shaking his head, thinking how nice she’d looked. He took off his clothes, rinsed his shirt in the sink and hung it over the curtain rod, then turned the faucet. As Adrienne had warned, it took a while before the hot water came on.He showered, shaved, and threw on a pair of Dockers, a collared shirt, and loafers, then went to join her. In the kitchen, Adrienne had set the table and was carrying the last two bowls to the table, one with toast, the other with sliced fruit. As Paul moved around her, he caught a trace of the jasmine shampoo she’d used on her hair that morning.“I hope you don’t mind if I join you again,” she said.Paul pulled out her chair, “Not at all. In fact, I was hop-ing you would. Please.” He motioned for her to sit.She let him push her chair in for her, then watched him take his seat as well. “I tried to scrounge up a paper,” she said, “but the rack at the general store was already empty by the time I got there.”“I’m not surprised. There were lots of people out this morning. I guess everyone’s wondering how bad it’s going to be today.”“It doesn’t look much worse than it did yesterday.”“That’s because you don’t live here.”“You don’t live here, either.”“No, but I’ve been in a big storm before. In fact, did I ever tell you about the time I was in college and went down to Wilmington?”Adrienne laughed.  “And you swore you never told that story.”“I guess it’s coming easier now that I’ve broken the ice. And it’s my one good story. Everything else is boring.”“I doubt that. From what you’ve told me, I’m thinking that your life has been anything but boring.”He smiled, unsure if she meant it as a compliment, but pleased nonetheless.“What did Jean say had to be done today?”Adrienne scooped out some eggs and passed the bowl to-ward him.“Well, the furniture on the porches needs to be stored in the shed. The windows need to be closed and the shutters latched from the inside. Then, the hurricane guards have to be put up. Supposedly, they lock together and there are some hooks you drop in t after that, we brace them with two-by-fours. The wood for that is sup-posed to be stacked with the hurricane guards.”“She has a ladder, I hope.”“It’s under the house, too.”“It doesn’t sound too bad. But like I said yesterday, I’d be happy to help you with it after I get back.”She looked at him. “You sure? You don’t have to do this.”“It’s no bother. I don’t have anything else planned, any-way. And to be honest, it would be impossible for me to sit inside while you were doing all that work. I’d feel guilty, even if I’m the guest.”“Thank you.”“No problem.”They finished serving up, poured the coffee, and started eating. Paul watched her butter a piece of toast, momen-tarily absorbed in her task. In the gray morning light, she was pretty, even prettier than he’d realized the day before.“You’re going to talk to that person you mentionedyes-terday ?“Paul nodded. “After breakfast,” he said.“You don’t sound too happy about it.”“I don’t know whether to be happy or not.”“Why?”After the briefest hesitation, he told her about Jill and Robert Torrelson—the operation, the autopsy, and all that had happened in the aftermath, including the note he’d re-ceived in the mail. When he finished, Adrienne seemed to be studying him.“And you have no idea what he wants?”“I assume it’s something about the lawsuit.”Adrienne wasn’t so sure about that, but she said nothing. Instead, she reached for her coffee.“Well, no matter what happens, I think you’re doing the right thing. Just like you’re doing with Mark.”He didn’t say anything, but then, he didn’t have to. The fact that she understood was more than enough.It was all that he wanted from anyone these days, and though he’d met her only the day before, he sensed that somehow she already knew him better than most people did.Or maybe, he thought, better than anyone. 55After breakfast, Paul got into his car and fished the keys from the pocket of his coat. From the porch, Adrienne waved, as if wishing him luck. A moment later, Paul looked over his shoulder and began backing out of the drive.He reached Torrelson’s str though he could have walked, he didn’t know how fast the weather would deteriorate, and he didn’t want to be caught in the rain. Nor did he want to feel trapped if the meeting started to go badly. Though he wasn’t sure what to expect, he de-cided he would tell Torrelson everything that had hap-pened with regard to the operation but wouldn’t speculate on what had caused her death.He slowed the car, pulled it to the side of the road, and switched off the engine. After taking a moment to prepare himself, he got out and started up the walkway. A neighbor next door was standing on a ladder, hammering a piece of plywood over a window. He looked over at Paul, trying to figure out who he was. Paul ignored the stare, and when he reached Torrelson’s door, he knocked, then stepped back, giving himself space.When no one came to the door, he knocked again, this time listening for movement inside. Nothing. He moved to the side of the porch. Though the doors of the outbuilding were still open, he didn’t see anyone. He considered calling out but decided against it. Instead, he went to the trunk of his car and opened it. From the medical kit, he pulled out a pen and tore a scrap of paper from one of the notebooks he’d stuffed inside.He wrote his name and where he was staying, as well as a brief message saying that he would be in town until Tues-day morning if Robert still wanted to talk to him. Then, folding the paper, he brought the note to the front porch and wedged it into the frame, making sure it wouldn’t blow away. He was heading back to the car, feeling both disap-pointed and relieved, when he heard a voice behind him.“Can I help you?”When Paul turned, he didn’t recognize the man standing near the house. Though he couldn’t recall what Robert Torrelson looked like—his face was one of thousands—he knew he’d never seen this person before. He was a young man in his thirties or so, gaunt, with thinning black hair, dressed in a sweatshirt and work jeans. He was staring at Paul with the same wariness the neighbor had shown him earlier when he’d first pulled up.Paul cleared his throat. “Yes,” he said, “I was looking for Robert Torrelson. Is this the right place ?”The young man nodded without changing his expres-sion. “Yeah, he lives here. That’s my dad.”“Is he in?”“You with the bank?”Paul shook his head. “No. My name is Paul Flanner.” It was a moment before the young man recognized the name. His eyes narrowed.“The doctor?”Paul nodded. “Your father sent me a letter saying he wanted to speak to me.”“What for?”“I don’t know.”“He didn’t tell me about no letter.” As he spoke, the muscles in his jaw began to clench.“Can you tell him I’m here?”The young man hooked his thumb into his belt. “He’s not in.”As he said it, his eyes flashed to the house, and Paul wondered if he was telling the truth.“Will you at least tell him I came by? I left a note on the door telling him where he can reach me.”“He doesn’t want to talk to you.”Paul dropped his gaze, then looked up again.“I think that’s for him to decide, don’t you?” he said.“Who the hell do you think you are? You think you can come here and try to talk your way out of what you did? Like it was just some mistake or something?”Paul said nothing. Sensing his hesitation, the young man took a step toward him and went on, his voice rising.“Just get the hell out of here! I don’t want you around here anymore, and my dad doesn’t, either!”“Fine . . . okay. . .”The young man reached for a nearby shovel and Paul raised his hands, backing away.“I’m going. . .”He turned and started toward the car.“And don’t come back,” the young man shouted. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough already? My mother’s dead because of you!”Paul flinched at the words, feeling their sting, then got in the car. After starting the engine, he pulled away with-out looking back.He didn’t see the neighbor come down from the ladder to spea he didn’t see the young man throw the shovel. He didn’t see the living room curtain fall back into place inside the house.Nor did he see the front door open or the wrinkled hand that retrieved the note after it had fallen to the porch.Minutes later, Adrienne was listening to Paul as he re-counted what had happened. They were in the kitchen, and Paul was leaning against the counter, his arms crossed as he gazed out the window. His expression was blank, he looked far more tired than he had earlier in the morning. When he finished, Adrienne’s face showed a mixture of sympathy and concern.“At least you tried,” she said.“A lot of good that did, huh?”“Maybe he didn’t know about his father’s letter.”Paul shook his head. “It’s not just that. It goes back to the whole reason I came here. I wanted to see if I could fix it somehow or at least make it understandable, but I’m not even going to get the chance.”“That’s not your fault.”“Then why does it feel that way?”In the silence that followed, Adrienne could hear the ticking of the heater.“Because you care. Because you’ve changed.”“Nothing’s changed. They still think I killed her.” He sighed. “Can you imagine how it feels to know that some-one believes that about you?”“No,” she admitted, “I can’t. I’ve never had to go through something like that.”Paul nodded, looking drawn.Adrienne watched to see if his expression would change, and when it didn’t, she surprised herself by moving toward him and reaching for his hand. It was stiff at first, but he re-laxed and she felt his fingers curl into hers.“As hard as it is to accept, and no matter what anyone says,” she said carefully, “you have to understand that even if you had talked to the father this morning, you probably wouldn’t have changed his son’s mind, He’s hurting, and it’s easier to blame someone like you than to accept the fact that his mother’s time had come. And no matter how you think it went, you did do something important by going there this morning.”“What’s that?”“You listened to what the son had to say. Even though he’s wrong, you gave him the chance to tell you how he feels. You let him get it off his chest, and in the end, that’s probably what the father wanted all along. Since he knows the case isn’t going to make it to court, he wanted you to hear his side of the story in person. To know how they feel.”Paul laughed grimly. “That makes me feel a whole lot better.”Adrienne squeezed his hand. “What did you expect would happen? That they’d listen to what you had to say and accept it after a few minutes? After hiring a lawyer and continuing the Suit, even when they knew they didn’t have a chance? After hearing what all the other doctors had said? They wanted you to come so you could listen to them. Not the other way around.”Paul said nothing, but deep down he knew she was right. Why, though, hadn’t he realized it before?“I know it wasn’t easy to hear,” she went on, “and I know they’re wrong and it isn’t fair to blame what happened on you. But you gave them something important today, and more than that, it was something you didn’t have to do. You can be proud of that.”“None of what happened surprised you, did it 1”“Not really.”“Did you know that this morning? When I first told you about them ?”“I wasn’t sure, but I thought it might go like this.”A brief smile flickered across his face. “You’re some-thing, you know that?”“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”He squeezed her hand, thinking that he liked the way it felt in his. It felt natural, almost as if he’d been holding it for years.“It’s a great thing,” he said.He turned to face her, smiling gently, and Adrienne sud-denly realized that he was thinking of kissing her. Though part of her longed for just that, the rational side suddenly reminded her that it was Friday. They’d met the day before, and he’d be leaving soon. And so would she. Besides, this wasn’t really her, was it? This wasn’t the real Adrienne— the worried mom and daughter, or the wife who’d been left for another woman, or the lady who sorted books at the li-brary. This weekend she was someone different, someone she barely recognized. Her time here had been dreamlike, and though dreams were pleasant, she reminded herself that they were just that and nothing more.She took a small step backward. When she released his hand, she saw a flash of disappointment in his eyes, but it vanished as he looked off to the side.She smiled, forcing herself to keep her voice steady.“Are you still up for helping me with the house? Before the weather sets in, I mean?”“Sure.” Paul nodded. “Just let me throw on some work clothes.”“You’ve got time. I’ve got to run up to the store first, anyway. I forgot to get ice and a cooler so I can keep some food handy in case the power goes out.”“Okay.”She paused. “You gonna be all right?”“I’ll be fine.”She waited as if to make sure she believed him, then turned away. Yes, she told herself, she’d done the right thing. She was right to have turned away, she was right to have let go of his hand.Yet as she slipped out the door, she couldn’t escape the feeling that she’d turned away from the chance to find a piece of happiness she’d been missing for far too long.Paul was upstairs when he heard Adrienne’s car start up. Turning toward the window, he watched the waves crash-ing in, trying to make sense of what had just happened. A few minutes ago, when he’d looked at her, he’d felt a flash of something special, but just as quickly as it had come, it was gone, and the look on her face told him why.He could understand Adrienne’s reservations—they all lived in a world defined by limits, after all, and those didn’t always allow for spontaneity, for impulsive attempts to live in the moment. He knew that was what allowed order to prevail in the course of one’s life, yet his actions in recent months had been an attempt to defy those limits, to reject the order that he had embraced for so long.It wasn’t fair of him to expect the same thing of her, She was
her life had responsibilities, and as she’d made clear to him yesterday, those responsibilities re-quired stability and predictability. He’d been the same way once, and though he was now in the position to live by dif-ferent rules, Adrienne, he realized, wasn’t.Nonetheless, something had changed in the short time he’d been here, He wasn’t sure when it had happened. It might have been yesterday when they were walking on the beach, or when she’d first told him about her father, or even this morning when they had eaten together in the soft light of the kitchen. Or maybe it happened when he found himself holding her hand and standing close, want-ing nothing more than to gently press his lips against hers.It didn’t matter. All he knew for sure was that he was be-ginning to fall for a woman named Adrienne, who was watching the Inn for a friend in a tiny coastal town in North Carolina.
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