Nights in Rodanthe

PRAISE FOR Nights in Rodanthe AND #1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR NICHOLAS SPARKS “Extremely hard to put down… a love story and a good love story at that.” —Boston Herald “The master of the love story genre… vivid characters… He’s also adept at bringing a background to life.” —Amarillo Globe-News “Worth spending a night with.” —People “A page-turner.” —Connecticut Post “With immeasurable intensity and precision… Sparks is once again exploring the mysterious ways of the heart.” —Writer’s Digest A Bend in the Road “Sweet, accessible, uplifting… expect instant bestsellerdom.” —Publishers Weekly “A powerful tale of true love.” —Booklist “A charming and thoughtful love story… Don’t miss it; this is a book that’s light on the surface but with subtle depths.” —BookLoons.com “A moving story. Nicholas Sparks fans will love it.” —TheBookHaven.net The Rescue “A modern master of fateful love stories.” —BookPage “A romantic page-turner… Sparks’s fans won’t be disappointed.” —Glamour magazine “All of Sparks’s trademark elements—love, loss, and small-town life—are present in this terrific read.” —Booklist A Walk to Remember “An extraordinary book… touching, at times riveting… a book you won’t soon forget.” —Sunday New York Post “A sweet tale of young but everlasting love.” —Chicago Sun-Times “Bittersweet… a tragic yet spiritual love story.” —Variety “Sparks proves once again that he is a master at pulling heartstrings… it will enthrall Sparks’s numerous fans.” —Booklist Message in a Bottle “The novel’s unabashed emotion—and an unexpected turn—will put tears in your eyes.” —People “Glows with moments of tenderness… has the potential to delve deeply into the mysteries of eternal love.” —Cleveland Plain Dealer “Deeply moving, beautifully written, and extremely romantic.” —Booklist “Brew the tea or pour a glass of wine—whatever is your pleasure. And settle in… you’re in for another treat.” —Oakland Press The Notebook “Nicholas Sparks… will not let you go. His novel shines.” —Dallas Morning News “Proves that good things come in small packages… a classic tale of love.” —Christian Science Monitor “The lyrical beauty of this touching love story… will captivate the heart of every reader… and establish Nicholas Sparks as a gifted novelist.” —Denver Rocky Mountain News Also by Nicholas Sparks The Notebook Message in a Bottle A Walk to Remember The Rescue A Bend in the Road The Guardian The Wedding Three Weeks with My Brother (with Micah Sparks) True Believer At First Sight Dear John The Choice Copyright This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Copyright © 2002 by Nicholas Sparks All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher. Grand Central Publishing Hachette Book Group 237 Park Avenue New York, NY 10017 Visit our website at www.HachetteBookGroup.com. Originally published in hardcover by Hachette Book Group USA. First eBook Edition: September 2002 Grand Central Publishing is a division of Hachette Book Group, Inc. The Grand Central Publishing name and logo is a trademark of Hachette Book Group, Inc. ISBN: 978-0-7595-2728-7 Contents Praise for Nights in Rodanthe Also by Nicholas Sparks Copyright Acknowledgments Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen For Landon, Lexie, and Savannah Acknowledgments Nights in Rodanthe, as with all my novels, couldn’t have been written without the patience, love, and support of my wife, Cathy. She only gets more beautiful every year. Since the dedication is to my other three children, I have to acknowledge both Miles and Ryan (who got a dedication in Message in a Bottle). I love you guys! I’d also like to thank Theresa Park and Jamie Raab, my agent and editor respectively. Not only do they both have wonderful instincts, but they never let me slide when it comes to my writing. Though I sometimes grumble about the challenges this presents, the final product is what it is because of those two. If they like the story, odds are that you will, too. Larry Kirshbaum and Maureen Egen at Warner Books also deserve my thanks. When I go to New York, spending time with them is like visiting with my family. They’ve made Warner Books a wonderful home for me. Denise Di Novi, the producer of both Message in a Bottle and A Walk to Remember, is not only skilled at what she does, but someone I trust and respect. She’s a good friend, and she deserves my thanks for all she has done—and still does—for me. Richard Green and Howie Sanders, my agents in Hollywood, are great friends, great people, and great at what they do. Thanks, guys. Scott Schwimer, my attorney and friend, always watches out for me. Thank you. In publicity, I have to thank Jennifer Romanello, Emi Battaglia, and Edna Farley; Flag and the rest of the cover design people; Courtenay Valenti and Lorenzo De Bonaventura of Warner Bros.; Hunt Lowry and Ed Gaylord II, of Gaylord Films; Mark Johnson and Lynn Harris of New Line Cinema; they have all been great to work with. Thanks, everyone. Mandy Moore and Shane West were both wonderful in A Walk to Remember, and I appreciate their enthusiasm for the project. Then there is family (who might get a kick out of seeing their names here): Micah, Christine, Alli, and Peyton; Bob, Debbie, Cody, and Cole; Mike and Parnell; Henrietta, Charles, and Glenara; Duke and Marge; Dianne and John; Monte and Gail; Dan and Sandy; Jack, Carlin, Joe, Elaine, and Mark; Michelle and Lemont; Paul, John, and Caroline; Tim, Joannie, and Papa Paul. And, of course, how can I forget Paul and Adrienne? One Three years earlier, on a warm November morning in 1999, Adrienne Willis had returned to the Inn and at first glance had thought it unchanged, as if the small Inn were impervious to sun and sand and salted mist. The porch had been freshly painted, and shiny black shutters sandwiched rectangular white-curtained windows on both floors like offset piano keys. The cedar siding was the color of dusty snow. On either side of the building, sea oats waved a greeting, and sand formed a curving dune that changed imperceptibly with each passing day as individual grains shifted from one spot to the next. With the sun hovering among the clouds, the air had a luminescent quality, as though particles of light were suspended in the haze, and for a moment Adrienne felt she’d traveled back in time. But looking closer, she gradually began to notice changes that cosmetic work couldn’t hide: decay at the corners of the windows, lines of rust along the roof, water stains near the gutters. The Inn seemed to be winding down, and though she knew there was nothing she could do to change it, Adrienne remembered closing her eyes, as if to magically blink it back to what it had once been. Now, standing in the kitchen of her own home a few months into her sixtieth year, Adrienne hung up the phone after speaking with her daughter. She sat at the table, reflecting on that last visit to the Inn, remembering the long weekend she’d once spent there. Despite all that had happened in the years that had passed since then, Adrienne still held tight to the belief that love was the essence of a full and wonderful life. Outside, rain was falling. Listening to the gentle tapping against the glass, she was thankful for its steady sense of familiarity. Remembering those days always aroused a mixture of emotions in her—something akin to, but not quite, nostalgia. Nostalgia was often romanticized; with these memories, there was no reason to make them any more romantic than they already were. Nor did she share these memories with others. They were hers, and over the years, she’d come to view them as a sort of museum exhibit, one in which she was both the curator and the only patron. And in an odd way, Adrienne had come to believe that she’d learned more in those five days than she had in all the years before or after. She was alone in the house. Her children were grown, her father had passed away in 1996, and she’d been divorced from Jack for seventeen years now. Though her sons sometimes urged her to find someone to spend her remaining years with, Adrienne had no desire to do so. It wasn’t that she was wary of men; on the contrary, even now she occasionally found her eyes drawn to younger men in the supermarket. Since they were sometimes only a few years older than her own children, she was curious about what they would think if they noticed her staring at them. Would they dismiss her out of hand? Or would they smile back at her, finding her interest charming? She wasn’t sure. Nor did she know if it was possible for them to look past the graying hair and wrinkles and see the woman she used to be.

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