fter 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 monopolized 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 beauty to the evening; 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 single 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 anything 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 flickering 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 wonder 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 someone 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, neither 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 favorite 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 those things as well; 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 along with her scarf; 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 possible, 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, Adrienne found herself confiding in him about her father and the fears she had for the future.

Paul had heard similar scenarios before; 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 Florida; 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 listening to people talk and learning what they were all about. He was endlessly patient, and because of that, people 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 anything, 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 inside.”

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, suddenly 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 reassuring, 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 about

those 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 beginning 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 together 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 endlessly in her mind; she could see the way the corners of his mouth formed into a crooked smile whenever she’d said something 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.