The Notebook

I love you so deeply, so incredibly much, that I will find a way to come back to
you despite my disease, I promise you that. And this is where the story comes
in. When I am lost and lonely, read this story—
just as you told it to the children—and know that in some way I will realize it’s
about us. And perhaps, just perhaps, we will find a way to be together again.
Please don’t be angry with me on days I do not remember you— we both
know they will come. Know that I will always love you, and no matter what
happens, know that I have led the greatest life possible.
My life with you.
Noah, wherever you are and whenever you read this, I love you. I love you
deeply, my husband. You are, and always have been, my dream.
Allie
I put the letter aside, rise from my desk and find my slippers. I must sit to put
them on. Then, standing, I cross the room and open my door. I peep down the
hall and see Janice seated at the main desk which I must pass to get to Allie’s
room. At this hour I am not supposed to leave my room, and Janice is never
one to bend the rules .
I wait to see if she will leave, but she does not and I grow impatient.
I finally exit my room anyway, slow-shuffle, slide-the-right, slow-shuffle. It
takes aeons to close the distance, but for some reason she does not see me
approaching. I am a silent panther creeping through the jungle. In the end I
am discovered, but I am not surprised. I stand before her.
“Noah,” she says, “what are you doing?”
“I’m taking a walk,” I say. “I can’t sleep.”
“You know you’re not supposed to do this.”
“I know.” I don’t move, though. I am determined.
“You’re not really going for a walk, are you? You’re going to see Allie.”
“Yes,” I answer.
“Noah, you know what happened the last time you saw her at night.
You shouldn’t be doing this.”
“I miss her.”
“I know you do, but I can’t let you see her.”
“It’s our anniversary,” I say. This is true. It is one year before gold.

---

Forty-nine years today.
“I see.” She looks away for a moment, and her voice becomes softer.
I am surprised. She has never struck me as the sentimental type.
“Noah, I’ve seen hundreds of couples struggle with grief, but I’ve never seen
anyone handle it like you do. No one around here has ever seen anything like
it.” She pauses for just a moment and her eyes begin to fill with tears. “I try to
think what it’s like for you, how you keep going day after day, but I can’t
imagine it. I don’t know how you do it. You even beat her disease sometimes.
Even though the doctors don’t understand it, we nurses do. It’s love—it’s as
simple as that. It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.”
A lump has risen in my throat, and I am speechless.
“But, Noah, you’re not supposed to do this, and I can’t let you. So go back to
your room.” Then, smiling, sniffling and shuffling some papers, she says:
“Me, I’m going downstairs for some coffee. I won’t be back to check on you
for a while, so don’t do anything foolish.”
She rises quickly, touches my arm and walks towards the stairs. She doesn’t
look back and suddenly I am alone. I look at where she had been sitting and
see her coffee, a full cup, still steaming, and once again I learn that there are
good people in the world.
As I begin my trek to Allie’s room, I take tiny steps, and even at that pace my
legs grow tired. I find I must touch the wall to keep from falling down. Lights
buzz overhead, their fluorescent glow making my eyes ache, and I squint a
little. I press on, and the movement forces blood through banished arteries. I
feel myself becoming stronger with every step. A phone rings in the nurses’
station, and I push forward so that I will not be caught. I am young and
strong, with passion in my heart, and I will break down the door and lift her in
my arms and carry her to paradise.
Who am I kidding? I lead a simple life now. I am foolish, an old man in love,
a dreamer who dreams of nothing but reading to Allie and holding her
whenever I can. I am a sinner with many faults and a man who believes in
magic, but I am too old to change and too old to care.
When I finally reach her room my body is weak. My legs wobble, my eyes
are blurred. I struggle with the knob and in the end it takes two hands and
three truckloads of effort. The door opens and light from the hallway spills in,
illuminating the bed where she sleeps.
She is lying with the covers halfway up. After a moment I see her roll to one
side, and her noises bring back memories of happier times.

---

She looks small in her bed.
I do not move, on this our anniversary, for almost a minute, and I long to tell
her how I feel, but I stay quiet so I won’t wake her.
Besides, it is written on the slip of paper that I will slide under her pillow. It
says:
Love, in these last and tender hours, is sensitive and very pure Come morning
light with soft-lit powers to awaken love that’s ever sure.
I think I hear someone coming, so I enter her room and close the door behind
me. Blackness descends and I cross her floor from memory and reach the
window. I open the curtains, and the moon stares back, large and full, the
guardian of the evening. Though I know I should not, I sit on her bed while I
slip the note beneath her pillow. Then I reach across and gently touch her
face. I stroke her hair, and I feel wonder, like a composer first discovering the
works of Mozart. She stirs and opens her eyes and I suddenly regret my
foolishness, for I know she will begin to cry and scream, for this is what she
always does. But I feel an urge to attempt the impossible and lean towards
her, our faces drawing closer.
When her lips meet mine, I feel a tingling I have never felt before, in all our
years together, but I do not pull back. And suddenly a miracle, for I feel her
mouth open and I discover a forgotten paradise, unchanged all this time,
ageless like the stars. I feel the warmth of her body and allow myself to slip
away, as I did so many years ago. I close my eyes and become a mighty ship
in churning waters, strong and fearless, and she is my sails. I gently trace the
outline of her cheek, then take her hand in mine. I kiss her lips, her cheeks,
and listen as she takes a breath. She murmurs softly, “Oh, Noah … I’ve
missed you.” Another miracle—the greatest of all! —and there’s no way I can
stop the tears as we begin to slip towards heaven itself. For at that moment,
the world is full of wonder as I feel her fingers reach for the buttons on my
shirt and slowly, ever so slowly, she begins to undo them one by one.

---

Document Outline

• NICHOLAS SPARKS
• THE NOTEBOOK
• CHAPTER ONE
• MIRACLES
• CHAPTER TWO
• GHOSTS
• CHAPTER THREE
• REUNION
• CHAPTER FOUR
• PHONE CALLS
• CHAPTER FIVE
• KAYAKS AND
• FORGOTTEN DREAMS
• CHAPTER SIX
• SWANS AND STORM
• CHAPTER SEVEN
• AN UNEXPECTED
• VISITOR
• CHAPTER EIGHT
• WINTER FOR TWO