The Lucky One

by Nicholas Sparks

  It was all Thibault could do not to laugh.

  Thibault met with the music director the following afternoon, and despite her initial dismay at his jeans, T-shirt, and long hair, it didn't take long for her to realize that Thibault not only could play, but was obviously an accomplished musician. Once he'd warmed up, he made very few errors, though it helped that the chosen musical pieces weren't terribly challenging. After rehearsal, when the pastor showed up, he was walked through the service so he'd know exactly what to expect.

  Nana, meanwhile, alternately beamed at Thibault and chattered away with her friends, explaining that Thibault worked at the kennel and was spending time with Beth. Thibault could feel the gazes of the women sweep over him with more than a little interest and, for the most part, approval.

  On their way out the door, Nana looped her arm through his. "You were better than a duck on a stick," she said.

  "Thanks," he said, mystified.

  "Are you up for a little drive?"

  "Where?"

  "Wilmington. If we go now, I think I can have you back in time to take Beth to dinner. I'll watch Ben."

  "What am I going to buy?"

  "A sport jacket and chinos. A dressier shirt. I don't mind you in jeans, but if you're going to play the piano at the service on Sunday, you're going to need to dress up."

  "Ah," he said, recognizing at once that he had no choice in the matter.

  That evening, while dining at Cantina, the only Mexican restaurant downtown, Elizabeth stared over her margarita at Thibault.

  "You know you're in like Flynn now," she said.

  "With Nana?"

  "She couldn't stop talking about how good you were, and how polite you were to her friends, and how respectful you sounded when the pastor showed up."

  "You make it sound like she expected me to be a troglodyte."

  She laughed. "Maybe she did. I heard you were covered in mud before you went."

  "I showered and changed."

  "I know. She told me that, too."

  "What didn't she tell you?"

  "That the other women in the choir were swooning."

  "She said that?"

  "No. She didn't have to, but I could see it in her face. They were. It's not every day a young and handsome stranger comes into their church and dazzles them on the piano. How could they not swoon?"

  "I think you're probably overstating things."

  "I think," she said, dabbing her finger on the rim of her glass and tasting the salt, "that you still have a lot to learn about living in a small southern town. This is big news. Abigail has played for fifteen years."

  "I'm not going to take her spot. This is temporary."

  "Even better. It'll give people a chance to pick sides. They'll talk about it for years."

  "This is what people do here?"

  "Absolutely," she said. "And by the way, there's no faster way to get accepted around here."

  "I don't need to be accepted by anyone but you."

  "Always the sweet talker." She smiled. "Okay, how about this? It'll drive Keith crazy."

  "Why?"

  "Because he's a member of the church. In fact, Ben will be with him when he sees you. It'll kill him to see how much everyone appreciates the way you pitched in to help."

  "I'm not sure I want him any angrier. I'm already worried about what he's going to do."

  "He can't do anything. I know what he's been up to."

  "I wouldn't be so sure," Thibault cautioned.

  "Why do you say that?"

  Thibault noted the crowded tables surrounding them. She seemed to read his mind and slid out from her side of the booth to sit beside him. "You know something you're not telling me," she whispered. "What is it?"

  Thibault took a sip of his beer. When he put the bottle back on the table, he described his encounters with her ex. As he told the story, her expression changed from disgusted to amused, finally settling into something resembling concern.

  "You should have told me earlier," she said, frowning.

  "I didn't get concerned until he broke into my house."

  "And you really think he's capable of setting you up?"

  "You know him better than I do."

  She realized she wasn't hungry anymore. "I thought I did."

  Because Ben was with his father--a situation that felt somewhat surreal to both of them considering the circumstances--Thibault and Elizabeth went to Raleigh on Saturday, which made it easy to avoid dwelling on what Keith Clayton might or might not do. In the afternoon, they had lunch at a sidewalk cafe downtown and visited the Museum of Natural History; on Saturday evening, they made their way to Chapel Hill. North Carolina was playing Clemson, and the game was being broadcast on ESPN. Though the game was in South Carolina, the bars downtown were packed, full of students watching it on giant flat-screen televisions. As Thibault heard them cheering and booing, as if the future of the world hung on the outcome of the game, he found himself thinking about the kids their age serving in Iraq and wondered what they would make of these college students.

  They didn't stay long. After an hour, Elizabeth was ready to leave. On their way back to the car, as they walked with their arms around each other, she leaned her head against his shoulder.

  "That was fun," she said. "But it was so loud in there."

  "You just say that because you're getting old."

  She squeezed his waist, liking the fact that there was nothing but skin and muscle there. "Watch it, bub, or you might not get lucky tonight."

  "Bub?" he repeated.

  "It's a term of endearment. I say it to all the guys I date."

  "All of them?"

  "Yep. Strangers, too. Like if they give me their seat on the bus, I might say, 'Thanks, bub.'"

  "I guess I should feel special."

  "And don't you forget it."

  They walked among the throngs of students on Franklin Street, peeking in windows and soaking up the energy. It made sense to Thibault that she'd wanted to come here. This was an experience she'd missed because of Ben. Yet what impressed him most was that although she was obviously enjoying herself, she didn't seem wistful or bitter about what she'd missed. If anything, she acted more like an observant anthropologist, intent on studying newfound cultures. When he said as much, she rolled her eyes.

  "Don't ruin the evening. Trust me, I'm not thinking that deep. I just wanted to get out of town and have some fun."

  They went to Thibault's and stayed up late, talking and kissing and making love well into the night. When Thibault woke in the morning, he found Elizabeth lying beside him, studying his face.

  "What are you doing?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

  "Watching you," she said.

  "Why?"

  "I wanted to."

  He smiled as he ran a finger over her arm, feeling a surge of gratitude for her presence in his life. "You're pretty awesome, Elizabeth."

  "I know."

  "That's it? You're just going to say, 'I know'?" he demanded in mock outrage.

  "Don't get needy on me. I hate needy guys."

  "And I'm not sure I like women who hide their feelings."

  She smiled, leaning in to kiss him. "I had a great time yesterday."

  "I did, too."

  "I mean it. These last few weeks, being with you, have been the best weeks of my life. And yesterday, just being with you . . . you have no idea what that was like. Just being . . . a woman. Not a mother, not a teacher, not a granddaughter. Just me. It's been a long time since that has happened."

  "We've gone out before."

  "I know. But it's different now."

  She was talking about the future, he knew, a future that had acquired a clarity and purpose it never had before. Staring at her, he knew exactly what she meant.

  "So what's next?" he asked, his tone serious.

  She kissed him again, her breath on his lips warm and moist. "Next is getting up. You have to be at the church in a couple of hours." She swatted him on the h
ip.

  "That's a lot of time."

  "Maybe for you. But I'm here and my clothes are at home. You've got to get up and start getting ready, so I have time to get ready."

  "This church stuff is tough."

  "Sure," she said. "But it's not like you have an option. And by the way?" She reached for his hand before going on. "You're pretty awesome, too, Logan."

  23

  Beth

  I really like him, Nana," said Beth.

  Standing in the bathroom, she was doing her best with the curling iron, though she suspected that in the rain, all would be for naught. After a brief respite the day before, the first of the two tropical storms that were expected had entered the area.

  "I think it's time you start being honest with me. You don't just like him. You think he's the One."

  "I'm not that obvious," Beth said, not wanting to believe it.

  "Yes, you are. You might as well be sitting on the front porch picking petals off a daisy."

  Beth grinned. "Believe it or not, I actually understood that metaphor."

  Nana waved her off. "Accidents happen. The point is, I know you like him. The question is, does he like you?"

  "Yes, Nana."

  "Have you asked what that means?"

  "I know what it means."

  "Just making sure," she said. She glanced in the mirror and adjusted her hair. "Because I like him, too."

  She drove with Nana toward Logan's house, worried that her wipers couldn't keep up with the rain. Seemingly endless storms had swelled the river; though the water didn't quite reach the street, it was almost lapping at its edges. A few more days of this, she thought, and roads would begin closing. Businesses closest to the river would soon be stacking sandbags to prevent water from ruining low-lying merchandise.

  "I wonder if anyone is going to make it to the church today," Beth remarked. "I can barely see beyond my window."

  "A little rain won't keep people away from the Lord," Nana intoned.

  "It's more than a little rain. Have you seen the river?"

  "I saw it. It's definitely angry."

  "If it gets any higher, we might not be able to make it into town."

  "It'll all work out," she declared.

  Beth glanced across at her. "You're in a good mood today."

  "Aren't you? Since you stayed out all night?"

  "Nana," Beth protested.

  "I'm not judging. Just mentioning. You're an adult and it's your life."

  Beth had long grown used to her grandmother's pronouncements. "I appreciate that."

  "So it's going well? Even with your ex trying to cause trouble?"

  "I think so."

  "Do you think he's a keeper?"

  "I think it's a little early to even consider something like that. We're still getting to know each other."

  Nana leaned forward and wiped at the condensation on the window. Though the moisture disappeared momentarily, fingerprint smudges remained. "I knew right away that your grandfather was the One."

  "He told me that the two of you dated for six months before he proposed."

  "We did. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't have said yes earlier. I knew within a few days that he was the one for me. I know how crazy that sounds. But being with him was like toast and butter from the very beginning."

  Her smile was gentle, her eyes half-closed, as she remembered. "I was sitting with him in the park. It must have been the second or third time we'd ever been alone, and we were talking about birds when a young boy, obviously from out in the county, wandered up to listen. His face was dirty, he didn't have shoes, and his clothes, as ragged as they were, didn't even fit him. Your grandfather winked at him before going on, as if to tell the boy he was welcome to stay, and the boy kind of smiled. It touched me to think that he didn't pass judgment based on the way the boy looked." She paused. "Your grandfather kept on talking. He must have known the name of every kind of bird in this part of the state. He'd tell us whether they migrated and where they nested, and the sound of their calls. After a while, this young boy sat right down and just stared as your grandfather made everything sound . . . well, enchanting. And it wasn't just the young boy. I felt it, too. Your grandfather had this soothing, lullabylike voice, and while he talked, I got the sense that he was the kind of person who couldn't hold anger for more than a few minutes, because it just wasn't in him. It could never grow into resentment or bitterness, and I knew then that he was the kind of man who would be married forever. And I decided then and there that I should be the one to marry him."

  Despite her familiarity with Nana's stories, Beth was moved.

  "That's a wonderful story."

  "He was a wonderful man. And when a man is that special, you know it sooner than you think possible. You recognize it instinctively, and you're certain that no matter what happens, there will never be another one like him."

  By that point, Beth had reached Logan's graveled drive, and as she turned in and approached the house, bouncing and splashing through the mud, she caught sight of him standing on the porch, dressed in what seemed to be a new sport jacket and a pair of freshly pressed chinos.

  When he waved, she couldn't suppress an ear-to-ear smile.

  The service began and ended with music. Nana's solo was greeted with hearty applause, and the pastor singled out both Logan and Nana, thanking Logan for filling in at the last minute and Nana for demonstrating the wonder of God's grace in the face of a challenge.

  The sermon was informative, interesting, and delivered with the humble recognition that God's mysterious works aren't always understood; Beth felt that their gifted pastor was one of the reasons membership in the church continued to grow.

  From her seat in the upper balcony, she could easily see both Nana and Logan. Whenever Ben was with his father for the weekend, she liked to sit in the same spot, so Ben would know where to find her. Usually, he caught her eye two or three times during the service; today, he turned around constantly, sharing his awe at the fact that he was friends with someone so accomplished.

  But Beth kept her distance from her ex. Not because of what she'd recently learned about him--though that was reason enough--but because it made things easier on Ben. Despite Keith's lascivious impulses, in church he behaved as though he viewed her presence as a dangerously disruptive force that might somehow upset his clan. Gramps sat in the center of the first row, with the family fanning out on either side and in the row behind him. From her spot, she could see him read along with the Bible passages, take notes, and listen intently to everything the pastor said. He sang every word to every hymn. Out of the entire family, Beth liked him the best--he'd always been fair with her and unfailingly polite, unlike most of the others. After church, if they happened to bump into each other, he always remarked that she was looking well and thanked her for the admirable job she was doing with Ben.

  There was honesty in the way he spoke to her, but there was a line in the sand as well: She understood that she wasn't to rock the boat. He knew she was a far better parent than Keith and that Ben was turning into a fine young man because of her, but that knowledge didn't override the fact that Ben was, and always would be, a Clayton.

  Still, she liked him--despite everything, despite Keith, despite the line in the sand. Ben liked him, too, and half the time she got the sense that Gramps demanded Keith show up with Ben to spare Ben from having to be alone with his father for the entire weekend.

  All of those realities were far from her mind as she watched Logan play the piano. She hadn't known what to expect. How many people took lessons? How many people claimed to be able to play well? It didn't take long to realize Logan was exceptionally skilled, far above the level she'd expected. His fingers moved effortlessly and fluidly over the keys; he didn't even seem to read the music in front of him. Instead, as Nana sang, he focused his attention on her while keeping perfect rhythm and pace, more interested in her performance than his own.

  As he continued to play, she couldn't help thinking ab
out the story that Nana had recounted in the car. Tuning out the service, she found herself recalling easy conversations with Logan, the feel of his solid embrace, his natural way with Ben. Admittedly, there was a lot she still didn't know about him, but she did know this: He completed her in a way that she'd never thought possible. Knowledge isn't everything, she told herself, and she knew then that, in Nana's words, he was the toast to her butter.

  After the service, Beth stood in the background, amused by the thought that Logan was being treated like a rock star. Okay, a rock star with fans who collected Social Security checks, but as far as she could tell, he seemed both flattered and flustered by the unexpected attention.

  She caught him looking at her, silently pleading for her to rescue him. Instead, she simply shrugged and smiled. She didn't want to intrude. When the pastor came up to thank him a second time for filling in, he suggested that Logan might want to consider playing even after Abigail's wrist was healed. "I'm sure we'd be able to work something out," the pastor urged.

  She was most surprised when Gramps, with Ben at his side, made his way over to Logan as well. Like Moses parting the Red Sea, Gramps didn't have to wait amid the throng to offer his compliments. In the distance, Beth saw Keith, his expression a mixture of anger and disgust.

  "Fine job, young man," Gramps said, offering his hand. "You play as if you've been blessed."

  She could see from Logan's expression that he recognized the man, though she had no idea how. He shook Gramps's hand.

  "Thank you, sir."

  "He works at the kennel with Nana," Ben piped up. "And I think him and Mom are dating."

  At that, a stillness fell over the throng of admirers, punctuated by a few uncomfortable coughs.

  Gramps stared at Logan, though she couldn't read his reaction. "Is that right?" he said.

  "Yes, sir," Logan answered.

  Gramps said nothing.

  "He was in the marines, too," Ben offered, oblivious to the social currents eddying around him. When Gramps seemed surprised, Logan nodded.

  "I served with the First, Fifth out of Pendleton, sir."

  After a pregnant pause, Gramps nodded. "Then thank you for your service to our country as well. You did a marvelous job today."

  "Thank you, sir," he said again.

  "You were so polite," Beth observed when they were back home. She'd said nothing about what had gone on until Nana was out of earshot. Outside, the lawn was beginning to resemble a lake, and still the rain continued to fall. They'd picked up Zeus on the way back, and he lay nestled at their feet.