The Lucky One

by Nicholas Sparks

  "That's great." She put an arm around him. "You ready to come inside? I have lunch on the table."

  "He knows me and everything. . . ."

  "Who?"

  "The dog. Zeus. He knows my name."

  She turned her gaze to Thibault. "Does he?"

  Thibault nodded. "Yeah."

  "Well . . . good."

  "Guess what? He played the violin."

  "Zeus?"

  "No, Mom. Mr. Thibault did. As a kid. He played the violin."

  "Really?" She seemed startled by that.

  Thibault nodded. "My mom was kind of a music fanatic. She wanted me to master Shostakovich, but I wasn't that gifted. I could play a decent Mendelssohn, though."

  Her smile was forced. "I see."

  Despite her apparent discomfort, Thibault laughed.

  "What?" she asked, obviously remembering their earlier encounter as well.

  "Nothing."

  "What's wrong, Mom?"

  "Nothing," she said. "It's just that you should have told me where you were going."

  "I come out here all the time."

  "I know," she said, "but next time, let me know, okay?"

  So I can keep an eye on you, she didn't say. So I know you're safe. Again, Thibault understood the message, even if Ben didn't.

  "I should probably head back to the office," he said, rising from the branch. He collected the remains of his lunch. "I want to check the mastiff's water. He was hot, and I'm sure he finished his bowl. See you later, Ben. You too." He turned. "Zeus! Let's go."

  Zeus sprang from his spot and went to Thibault's side; a moment later, they stood at the head of the footpath.

  "Bye, Mr. Thibault," Ben called.

  Thibault turned around, walking backward. "Nice talking to you, Ben. And by the way, it's not Mr. Thibault. Just Thibault."

  With that, he turned back around, feeling the weight of Elizabeth's gaze on him until he vanished from sight.

  9

  Clayton

  That evening, Keith Clayton lay on the bed smoking a cigarette, kind of glad that Nikki was in the shower. He liked the way she looked after a shower, with her hair wet and wild. The image kept him from dwelling on the fact that he would rather she grab her things and go on home.

  It was the fourth time in the last five days that she'd spent the night. She was a cashier at the Quick Stop where he bought his Doritos, and for the last month or so, he'd been wondering whether or not to ask her out. Her teeth weren't so great and her skin was kind of pockmarked, but her body was killer, which was more than enough, considering he needed a bit of stress reduction.

  Seeing Beth last Sunday night while she was dropping Ben off had done it. Wearing shorts and a tank top, she'd stepped out onto the porch and waved at Ben, flashing this kind of Farrah Fawcett smile. Even if it was directed at Ben, it drove home the fact that she was getting better-looking with every passing year.

  Had he known that would happen, he might not have consented to the divorce. As it was, he'd left the place thinking about how pretty she was and ended up in bed with Nikki a few hours later.

  The thing was, he didn't want to get back together with Beth. There wasn't a chance of that happening. She was way too pushy, for one thing, and she had a tendency to argue when he made a decision she didn't like. He'd learned those things a long time ago, and he was reminded of it every time he saw her. Right after the divorce, the last thing he'd wanted to do was think about her, and for a long while, he hadn't. He'd lived his life, had a great time with lots of different girls, and pretty much figured he'd never look back. Aside from the kid, of course. Still, sometime around when Ben turned three or four, he started to hear whispers about her beginning to date, and it bugged him. It was one thing for him to date . . . but it was an entirely different situation altogether if she dated. The last thing he wanted was for some other guy to step in and pretend he was Ben's daddy. Beyond that, he realized he didn't like the thought of some other man in bed with Beth. It just didn't sit right with him. He knew men and knew what they wanted, and Beth was pretty much naive about that stuff, if only because he'd been her first. Most likely he, Keith Clayton, was the only man she'd ever been with, and that was good, since it kept her priorities straight. She was raising their son, and even if Ben was a bit of a pansy, Beth was doing a good job with him. Besides, she was a good person, and the last thing she deserved was for some guy to break her heart. She'd always need him to watch out for her.

  But the other night . . .

  He wondered if she'd dressed in that skimpy outfit in anticipation of him coming over. Wouldn't that have been something? A couple of months back, she'd even invited him inside while Ben was gathering his things. Granted, it was raining buckets and Nana had scowled at him the whole time, but Beth had been downright pleasant and sort of set him to thinking that he might have underestimated her. She had needs; everyone had needs. And what would be the harm if he helped satisfy hers every now and then? It wasn't as if he'd never seen her naked before, and they did have a kid together. What did they call it these days? Friends with benefits? He could imagine enjoying something like that with Beth. As long as she didn't talk too much or saddle him with a bunch of expectations. Snubbing out his cigarette, he wondered how he might propose something like that to her.

  Unlike him, he knew, she'd been alone for a long, long time. Guys came sniffing around from time to time, but he knew how to deal with them. He remembered the little talk he'd had with Adam a couple of months back. The one who wore a blazer over a T-shirt, like he was some stud from Hollywood. Stud or not, he was pasty white when Clayton had approached the window after pulling him over on his way home from his third date with Beth. Clayton knew they'd shared a bottle of wine at dinner--he'd watched them from across the street--and when Clayton gave him a sobriety test with the inhaler he'd rigged for just such instances, the guy's skin went from pasty to chalk white.

  "Had one too many, huh?" Clayton asked, responding with the requisite doubtful expression when the guy swore up and down that he'd had only a single glass. When he slipped on the cuffs, he thought the guy was either going to faint or wet his pants, which almost made him laugh out loud.

  But he didn't. Instead, he filled out the paperwork, slowly, before giving him the talk--the one he delivered to anyone Beth seemed interested in. That they'd been married once and had a kid together, and how important it was to understand that he had a duty to keep them safe. And that the last thing Beth needed in her life was someone to distract her from raising their son or to get involved with someone who might just be using her. Just because they were divorced didn't mean he'd stopped caring.

  The guy got the message, of course. They all did. Not only because of Clayton's family and connections, but because Clayton offered to lose the inhaler and the paperwork if the guy promised to leave her alone for a while and remembered to keep their conversation to himself. Because if she found out about their little talk, that wouldn't be good. Might cause problems with the kid, you see? And he didn't take kindly to anyone who caused problems with his kid.

  The next day, of course, he'd been sitting in his parked squad car when Adam got off work. The guy went white at the sight of Clayton fiddling with the inhaler. Clayton knew he'd gotten the message before driving off, and the next time he saw Adam, he was with some redheaded secretary who worked in the same accounting office he did. Which meant, of course, that Clayton had been right: The guy had never planned to see Beth for the long term. He was just some loser hoping for a quick roll in the sack.

  Well, it wouldn't be with Beth.

  Beth would throw a hissy fit if she found out what he'd been doing, but fortunately, he hadn't had to do it all that often. Just every now and then, and things were working out fine.

  More than fine, actually. Even the whole coed picture-taking fiasco had turned out okay. Neither the camera nor the disk had surfaced at either the sheriff's department or the newspaper since last weekend. He hadn't had a chance to look for th
at hippie loser on Monday morning because of some papers that had to be served out in the county, but he found out the guy had been staying at the Holiday Motor Court. Unfortunately--or fortunately, he supposed--the guy had checked out, and he hadn't been seen since. Which most likely meant he was long gone by now.

  All in all, things were good. Real good. He especially liked the brainstorm he'd had about Beth--the friends with benefits thing. Wouldn't that be something? He clasped his hands behind his head and lay back on the pillows just as Nikki stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in her towel, with steam trailing behind her. He smiled.

  "Come here, Beth."

  She froze. "My name is Nikki."

  "I know that. But I want to call you Beth tonight."

  "What are you talking about?"

  His eyes flashed. "Just shut up and come here, would you?"

  After a moment's hesitation, Nikki took a reluctant step forward.

  10

  Beth

  Maybe she'd misjudged him, Beth admitted. At least as far as work went, anyway. In the last three weeks, Logan Thibault had been the perfect employee. Better than that, even. Not only hadn't he missed a day, but he arrived early so he could feed the dogs--something Nana had always done until her stroke--and stayed late to sweep the floors of the office. Once, she'd even seen him cleaning the windows with Windex and crumpled newspaper. The kennels were as clean as they'd ever been, the training yard was mowed every other afternoon, and he'd even started to reorganize the customer files. It got to the point that Beth felt guilty when she handed him his first paycheck. She knew that the paycheck was barely enough to live on. But when she'd handed the check to him, he'd simply smiled and said, "Thanks. This is great."

  It was all she could do to muster a subdued, "You're welcome."

  Other than that, they hadn't seen much of each other. They were in the third week of school, and Beth was still getting back into the flow of teaching again, which necessitated long hours in her small home office, updating lesson plans and correcting homework. Ben, on the other hand, raced out of the car as soon as he got home to play with Zeus. From what Beth observed from the window, Ben seemed to view the dog as his new best buddy, and the dog seemed to feel the same way. As soon as their car rolled up the drive, the dog would start nosing around for a stick, and he'd greet Ben with it when the car door swung open. Ben would scramble out, and as she walked up the porch steps, she'd hear Ben laughing as they raced across the yard. Logan--the name seemed to fit him better than Thibault, despite what he'd said at the creek--watched them as well, a slight smile playing across his face, before he turned back to whatever he was doing.

  Despite herself, she liked his smile and the ease with which it surfaced when he was with Ben or Nana. She knew that sometimes war had a way of crawling into a soldier's psyche, making it hard to readapt to the civilian world, but he showed no sign of any post-traumatic stress disorder. He seemed almost normal--aside from walking across the country, that is--which suggested that he might never have been overseas. Nana swore that she hadn't asked him about it yet. Which was odd in and of itself, considering Nana, but that was another story. Still, he seemed to be fitting into their little family business better than she'd imagined possible. A couple of days earlier, just as Logan was finishing up work for the day, she'd heard Ben race through the house to his bedroom, only to clatter out the front door again. When she peeked out the window, she realized that Ben had retrieved his baseball from his room to play catch with Logan in the yard. She watched them throw the baseball back and forth, Zeus doing his best to chase down the missed balls before Ben could get to them.

  If only her ex had been there to see how happily Ben played when he was not being pressured or criticized.

  She wasn't surprised that Logan and Nana were getting along, but the frequency with which Nana brought him up after he'd left for the night, and the glowing nature of her comments, took her aback. "You'd like him," she'd say, or, "I wonder if he knew Drake," which was her way of hinting that Beth should make an effort to get to know him. Nana had even begun to allow him to train the dogs, which was something she'd never allowed another employee to do. Every now and then, she'd mention something interesting about his past--that he'd slept beside a family of armadillos in north Texas, for instance, or that he'd once dreamed of working for the Koobi Fora Research Project in Kenya, investigating the origin of man. When she mentioned such things, there was no denying her fascination with Logan and what made him tick.

  Best of all, things around the kennel were beginning to calm down. After a long, hectic summer, their days had settled into a rhythm of sorts, which explained why Beth was eyeing Nana with apprehension over the dinner table at Nana's news.

  "What do you mean you're going to visit your sister?"

  Nana added a pat of butter to the bowl of shrimp and grits before her. "I haven't had a chance to visit my sister since the incident, and I want to see how she's doing. She's older than I am, you know. And now that you're teaching and Ben is at school, I can't think of a better time to go."

  "Who's going to take care of the kennel?"

  "Thibault. He's got it down to a science by now, even the training part of this. He said he'd be more than happy to work some additional hours. And he also said he'd drive me to Greensboro, so you don't have to worry about that, either. We've got it all worked out. He even volunteered to start straightening up the files for me." She speared a shrimp and chewed vigorously.

  "Can he drive?" Beth inquired.

  "He says he can."

  "But he doesn't have a license."

  "He said he'd get one at the DMV. That's why he left early. I called Frank, and he said he'd be glad to work him in for the driving test today."

  "He doesn't have a car--"

  "He's using my truck."

  "How did he get there?"

  "He drove."

  "But he doesn't have a license!"

  "I thought I already explained that." Nana looked at her as if she'd suddenly become slow-witted.

  "What about the choir? You're just getting back into it."

  "It's fine. I already told the music director I'd be visiting my sister, and she says there's no problem. In fact, she thinks it's a good idea. Of course, I've been with the choir a lot longer than she has, so she couldn't exactly say no."

  Beth shook her head, trying to stay on subject. "When did you start planning all this? The visit, I mean?"

  Nana took another bite and pretended to consider. "When she called and asked me, of course."

  "When did she call you?" Beth pressed.

  "This morning."

  "This morning?" From the corner of her eye, Beth noticed Ben following the interchange like a spectator at a tennis match. She shot him a warning look before returning her attention to Nana. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

  "It's like candy on a battleship," Nana said with an air of finality.

  "What does that mean?"

  "It means," Nana said, "that I'm going to see my sister. She said she's bored and that she misses me. She asked me to come, and so I agreed to go. It's as simple as that."

  "How long do you intend to be gone?" Beth suppressed a rising sense of panic.

  "I'm guessing about a week."

  "A week?"

  Nana glanced at Ben. "I think your mom has caterpillars in her ears. She keeps repeating everything I say like she can't hear me."

  Ben giggled and popped a shrimp into his mouth. Beth stared at them both. Sometimes, she thought, dinner with these two was no better than eating with the second graders in the cafeteria.

  "What about your medicine?" she asked.

  Nana added some more shrimp and grits to her bowl. "I'll bring it. I can take my pills there just as easy as I can take them here."

  "What if something happens to you?"

  "I'd probably be better off there, don't you think?"

  "How can you say that?"

  "Now that school has started, you and Ben are gone most
of the day and I'm alone in the house. There's no way Thibault would even know if I was in trouble. But when I'm in Greensboro, I'll be with my sister. And believe it or not, she has a phone and everything. She stopped using smoke signals last year."

  Ben giggled again but knew enough not to say anything. Instead, he grinned at the contents of his bowl.

  "But you haven't left the kennel since Grandpa died--"

  "Exactly," Nana cut her off.

  "But . . ."

  Nana reached across the table to pat Beth's hand. "Now, I know you're worried that you won't have my sparkling wit to keep you company for a while, but it'll give you a chance to get to know Thibault. He'll be here this weekend, too, to help you out with the kennel."

  "This weekend? When are you leaving?"

  "Tomorrow," she said.

  "Tomorrow?" Beth's voice came out as a squeak.

  Nana winked at Ben. "See what I mean? Caterpillars."

  After cleaning up the dinner dishes, Beth wandered to the front porch for a few solitary minutes. She knew Nana's mind was made up, and she knew she'd overreacted. Stroke or not, Nana could take care of herself, and Aunt Mimi would be thrilled to see her. Aunt Mimi had trouble walking to the kitchen these days, and it might very well be the last chance Nana had to spend a week with her.

  But the exchange troubled her. It wasn't the trip itself that bothered her, but what their little struggle at the dinner table signaled--the beginning of a new role for her in coming years, one she didn't feel altogether ready for. It was easy to play parent to Ben. Her role and responsibilities were clear-cut there. But playing parent to Nana? Nana had always been so full of life, so full of energy, that until a few months ago it had been inconceivable to Beth that Nana would ever slow down. And she was doing well, really well, especially considering the stroke. But what was going to happen the next time Nana wanted to do something that Beth honestly believed wasn't in her best interest? Something simple . . . like driving at night, for instance? Nana couldn't see as well as she used to, and what was going to happen in a few years when Nana insisted that she wanted to drive to the grocery store after work?

  She knew that in the end, she'd handle these situations when the time came. But she dreaded it. It had been hard enough to keep Nana in check this summer, and that was when her physical problems were obvious even to Nana. What was going to happen when Nana didn't want to admit to them?