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Safe Haven(12)

By:Nicholas Sparks


Katie laughed as she began to twist the corkscrew. "Oh, yeah. Real exciting."

"Do you want me to get that?" Jo asked.


"I think I've got it."

"Good." Jo smirked. "Because I'm the guest, and I expect to be pampered."

Katie propped the bottle between her legs and the cork came out with a pop.

"Seriously, though, thanks for having me over." Jo sighed. "You have no idea how much I've been looking forward to this."

"Really?"

"Don't do that."

"Don't do what?" Katie asked.

"Act  surprised that I wanted to come over. That I wanted to bond over a  bottle of wine. That's what friends do." She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, and  by the way, before you start wondering whether or not we're actually  friends and how well we know each other, trust me when I say that yes,  absolutely. I consider you a friend." She let that sink in before going  on. "Now how about some wine?"


The storm finally broke in the  early evening, and Katie opened the kitchen window. The temperature had  dropped and the air felt cool and clean. While pockets of mist rose  from the ground, rolling clouds drifted past the moon, bringing light  and shadow in equal measures. Leaves turned from silver to black and  silver again as they shimmered in the evening breeze.

Katie  drifted dreamily on the wine, the evening breeze, and Jo's easy  laughter. Katie found herself savoring every bite of the buttery  crackers and sharp, rich cheese, remembering how hungry she once had  been. There was a time when she'd been as thin as a heated strand of  blown glass.

Her thoughts were wandering. She remembered her  parents, not the hard times but the good ones, when the demons were  sleeping: when her mom made eggs and bacon, the aroma filling the house,  and she'd seen her father glide into the kitchen, toward her mother. He  would pull aside her hair and kiss the side of her neck, making her  giggle. Once, she remembered, her dad had brought them to Gettysburg.  He'd taken her hand as they walked around, and she could still recall  the rare sensation of strength and gentleness in his grasp. He was tall  and broad-shouldered with dark brown hair and there was a navy tattoo on  his upper arm. He'd served on a destroyer for four years and had been  to Japan, Korea, and Singapore, though he said little else about his  experience.

Her mom was petite with blond hair and had once  competed in a beauty pageant, finishing as the second runner-up. She  loved flowers, and in the spring she would plant bulbs in ceramic  flowerpots she placed in the yard. Tulips and daffodils, peonies and  violets, would explode in colors so bright they almost made Katie's eyes  ache. When they moved, the flowerpots would be placed on the backseat  and fastened with seat belts. Often, when she cleaned, her mother would  sing to herself, melodies from childhood, some of them in Polish, and  Katie would listen secretly from another room, trying to make sense of  the words.

The wine Jo and Katie were drinking had hints of oak  and apricots, and it tasted wonderful. Katie finished her cup and Jo  poured her another. When a moth began to dance around the light above  the sink, fluttering with purpose and confusion, both of them began to  giggle. Katie cut more cheese and added more crackers to the plate. They  talked about movies and books, and Jo shrieked with pleasure when Katie  said her favorite movie was It's a Wonderful Life, claiming that it was  her favorite movie, too. When she was younger, Katie remembered asking  her mom for a bell, so she could help angels get their wings. Katie  finished her second glass of wine, feeling as light as a feather on a  summer breeze.         

     



 

Jo asked few questions. Instead, they stuck to  superficial topics, and Katie thought again that she was happy for Jo's  company. When silver highlighted the world beyond the window, Katie and  Jo stepped out onto the front porch. Katie could feel herself swaying  slightly and she took hold of the railing. They sipped their wine as the  clouds continued to break, and all at once, the sky was filled with  stars. Katie pointed out the Big Dipper and Polaris, the only stars she  could name, but Jo began naming dozens of others. Katie stared at the  sky in wonder, amazed at how much Jo knew about the constellations,  until she noticed the names Jo was reciting. "That one's called Elmer  Fudd, and over there, right above that pine tree, you can make out Daffy  Duck." When Katie finally realized that Jo knew as little about the  stars as she did, Jo started to giggle like a mischievous kid.


Back  in the kitchen, Katie poured the last of the wine and took a sip. It  was warm in Katie's throat and made her feel dizzy. The moth continued  to dance around the light, though if she tried to focus on it, there  seemed to be two of them. She felt happy and safe and thought again how  enjoyable the evening had been.

She had a friend, a real friend,  someone who laughed and made jokes about the stars, and she wasn't sure  if she wanted to laugh or cry because it had been so long since she'd  experienced something so easy and natural.

"Are you okay?" Jo asked.

"I'm fine," Katie answered. "I was just thinking that I'm glad you came over."

Jo peered at her. "I think you might be tipsy."

"I think you might be right," Katie agreed.

"Well, okay then. What do you want to do? Since you're obviously tipsy and ready for fun."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Do you want to do something special? Head into town, find someplace exciting?"

Katie shook her head. "No."

"You don't want to meet people?"

"I'm better off alone."

Jo ran her finger around the rim of the mug before saying anything. "Trust me on this: no one is better off alone."

"I am."

Jo  thought about Katie's answer before leaning closer. "So you're telling  me that-assuming you had food, shelter, and clothing and anything else  you needed to simply survive-you'd rather be stranded on a desert island  in the middle of nowhere, all alone, forever, for the rest of your  life? Be honest."

Katie blinked, trying to keep Jo in focus. "Why would you think I wouldn't be honest?"

"Because  everybody lies. It's part of living in society. Don't get me wrong-I  think it's necessary. The last thing anyone wants is to live in a  society where total honesty prevails. Can you imagine the conversations?  You're short and fat, one person might say, and the other might answer,  I know. But you smell bad. It just wouldn't work. So people lie by  omission all the time. People will tell you most of the story …  and I've  learned that the part they neglect to tell you is often the most  important part. People hide the truth because they're afraid."

With Jo's words, Katie felt a finger touch her heart. All at once, it seemed hard to breathe.

"Are you talking about me?" she finally croaked out.

"I don't know. Am I?"

Katie felt herself pale slightly, but before she could respond, Jo smiled.

"Actually,  I was thinking about my day today. I told you it was hard, right? Well,  what I just told you is part of the problem. It gets frustrating when  people won't tell the truth. I mean, how am I supposed to help people if  they hold things back? If I don't really know what's going on?"

Katie  could feel something twisting and tightening in her chest. "Maybe they  want to talk about it but they know there's nothing you can do to help,"  she whispered.

"There's always something I can do."

In  the moonlight shining through the kitchen window, Jo's skin glowed a  luminous white, and Katie had the sense that she never went out in the  sun. The wine made the room move, the walls buckle. Katie could feel  tears beginning to form in her eyes and it was all she could do to blink  them back. Her mouth was dry.

"Not always," Katie whispered. She  turned to face the window. Beyond the glass, the moon hung low over the  trees. Katie swallowed, suddenly feeling as if she were observing  herself from across the room. She could see herself sitting at the table  with Jo, and when she began to speak, her voice didn't seem to be her  own. "I had a friend once. She was in a terrible marriage and she  couldn't talk to anyone. He used to hit her, and in the beginning, she  told him that if it ever happened again, she would leave him. He swore  that it wouldn't and she believed him. But it only got worse after that,  like when his dinner was cold, or when she mentioned that she'd visited  with one of the neighbors who was walking by with his dog. She just  chatted with him, but that night, her husband threw her into a mirror."         

     



 


Katie  stared at the floor. Linoleum was peeling up in the corners, but she  hadn't known how to fix it. She'd tried to glue it, but the glue hadn't  worked and the corners had curled again.

"He always apologized,  and sometimes he would even cry because of the bruises he'd made on her  arms or legs or her back. He would say that he hated what he'd done, but  in the next breath tell her she'd deserved it. That if she'd been more  careful, it wouldn't have happened. That if she'd been paying attention  or hadn't been so stupid, he wouldn't have lost his temper. She tried to  change. She worked hard at trying to be a better wife and to do things  the way he wanted, but it was never enough."