“Because,” she said, “it let me know that I was right about you in the first place. I knew you had a good heart.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Just what I said,” she answered. “Later—after that night, I mean—Tim convinced me that I had no right to say what I did. You were right. I don’t have the ability to do any sort of professional evaluation, but I was arrogant enough to think I did. As for what happened on the beach, I saw the whole thing. It wasn’t your fault. Even what happened to Tim wasn’t your fault, but it was nice to hear you apologize anyway. If only to know you could do it in the future.”

She leaned into me, and when I closed my eyes, I knew I wanted nothing more than to hold her this way forever.

Later, after we’d spent a good part of the night talking and kissing on the beach, I ran my finger along her jaw and whispered, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For the book. I think I understand my dad a little better now. We had a good time last night.”

“I’m glad.”

“And thanks for being who you are.”

When she wrinkled her brow, I kissed her forehead. “If it wasn’t for you,” I added, “I wouldn’t have been able to say that about my dad. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

Though she was supposed to work at the site the following day, Tim had been understanding when she explained that it would be the last chance for us to see each other before I returned to Germany. When I picked her up, he walked down the steps of the house and squatted next to the car, at eye level with the window. The bruises had darkened to deep black. He stuck his hand through the window.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, John.”

“You too,” I said, meaning it.

“Keep safe, okay?”

“I’ll try,” I answered as we shook hands, struck by the feeling that there was a connection between us.

Savannah and I spent the morning at the Fort Fisher Aquarium, bewitched by the strange creatures displayed there. We saw gar with their long noses, and miniature sea horses; in the largest tank were nurse sharks and red drum. We laughed as we handled the hermit crabs, and

Savannah bought me a souvenir key chain from the gift shop. For some strange reason there was a penguin on it, which amused her no end.

Afterward, I took her to a sunny restaurant near the water, and we held hands across the table as we watched the sailboats rocking gently in their slips. Lost in each other, we barely noticed the waiter, who had to come to the table three times before we’d even opened our menus.

I marveled at the easy way Savannah showed her emotions and the tenderness of her expression as I told her about my dad. When she kissed me afterward, I tasted the sweetness of her breath. I reached for her hand.

“I’m going to marry you one day, you know.”

“Is that a promise?”

“If you want it to be.”

“Well, then you have to promise that you’ll come back for me when you get out of the army. I can’t marry you if you’re not around.”

“It’s a deal.”

Later, we strolled the grounds of the Oswald Plantation, a beautifully restored antebellum home that boasted some of the finest gardens in the state. We walked along the gravel paths, skirting clusters of wildflowers that bloomed a thousand different colors in the lazy southern heat.

“What time do you fly out tomorrow?” she asked. The sun was beginning its gradual descent in the cloudless sky.

“Early,” I said. “I’ll probably be at the airport before you wake up.”

She nodded. “And you’ll spend tonight with your dad, right?”

“I was planning on it. I probably haven’t spent as much time with him as I should have, but I’m sure he’d understand—”

She shook her head to stop me. “No, don’t change your plans. I want you to spend time with your dad. I was hoping you would. That’s why I’m with you today.”

We walked the length of an elaborate hedge-lined path. “So what do you want to do?” I asked. “About us, I mean.”

“It’s not going to be easy,” she said.

“I know it won’t,” I said. “But I don’t want all this to end.” I stopped, knowing words wouldn’t be enough. Instead, from behind, I slipped my arms around her and drew her body into mine. I kissed her neck and ear, savoring her velvety skin. “I’ll call you as much as I can, and I’ll write you when I can’t, and I’ll get another leave next year. Wherever you are, that’s where I’ll go.”

She leaned back, trying to catch a glimpse of my face. “You will?”

I squeezed her. “Of course. I mean, I’m not happy about leaving you, and I wish more than anything that I was stationed nearby, but that’s all I can promise right now. I can request a transfer as soon as I get back, and I will, but you never know how those things go.”

“I know,” she murmured. For whatever reason, her solemn expression made me nervous.

“Will you write me?” I asked.

“Duh,” she teased, and my nervousness disappeared. “Of course I will,” she said, smiling. “How can you even bother to ask? I’ll write you all the time. And just so you know, I write the best letters.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“I’m serious,” she said. “In my family, that’s what we do on just about every holiday. We write letters to those people who we care a lot about. We tell them what they mean to us and how much we look forward to the time when we’ll get to see them again.”

I kissed her neck again. “So what do I mean to you? And how much are you looking forward to seeing me again?”

She leaned back. “You’ll have to read my letters.”

I laughed, but I felt my heart breaking. “I’m going to miss you,” I said.

“I’ll miss you, too.”

“You don’t sound too broken up about it.”

“That’s because I already cried about it, remember? Besides, it’s not like I’ll never see you again. That’s what I finally realized. Yeah, it’ll be hard, but life moves fast—we’ll see each other again. I know that. I can feel that. Just like I can feel how much you care for me and how much I love you. I know in my heart that this isn’t over, and that we’ll make it through this. Lots of couples do. Granted, lots of couples don’t, but they don’t have what we have.”

I wanted to believe her. I wanted it more than anything, but I wondered if it was really that simple.

When the sun had disappeared below the horizon, we walked back to the car, and I drove her to the beach house. I stopped a little way down the street so no one in the house could see us, and when we got out of the car, I put my arms around her. We kissed and I held her close, knowing for certain that the next year would be the longest in my life. I wished fervently that I’d never joined up, that I were a free man. But I wasn’t.

“I should probably be going.”

She nodded, beginning to cry. I felt a knot form in my chest.

“I’ll write you,” I promised.

“Okay,” she said. She swiped at her tears and reached into her handbag. She pulled out a pen and a small slip of paper. She began scribbling. “This is my home address and phone number, okay? And my e-mail address, too.”

I nodded.

“Remember that I’ll be changing dorms next year, but I’ll let you know my new address as soon as I get it. But you can always reach me through my parents. They’ll forward anything you send.”

“I know,” I said. “You still have my information, right? Even if I go on a mission somewhere, letters will reach me. E-mail, too. The army’s pretty good at setting up computers, even in the middle of nowhere.”

She hugged her arms like a forlorn child. “It scares me,” she said. “You being a soldier, I mean.”

“I’ll be okay,” I reassured her.

I opened the car door, then reached for my wallet. I slipped the note she scribbled inside, then opened my arms again. She came to me and I held her for a long time, imprinting the feel of her body against mine.

This time, it was she who pulled away. She reached into her handbag again and pulled out an envelope.

“I wrote this for you last night. To give you something to read on the plane. Don’t read it until then, okay?”

I nodded and kissed her one last time, then slipped behind the wheel of the car. I started the car, and as I began to pull away, she called out, “Say hello to your father. Tell him that I might stop by sometime in the next couple of weeks, okay?”

She took a step backward as the car began to roll. I could still see her through the rearview mirror. I thought about stopping. My dad would understand. He knew how much Savannah meant to me, and he would want us to have one last evening together.

But I kept moving, watching her image in the mirror grow smaller and smaller, feeling my dream slip away.

Dinner with my dad was quieter than usual. I didn’t have the energy to attempt a conversation, and even my dad realized it. I sat at the table as he cooked, but instead of focusing on the preparation, he glanced my way every now and then with muted concern in his eyes. I was startled when he turned off the burner and approached me.

When close, he put a hand on my back. He said nothing, but he didn’t have to. I knew he understood that I was hurting, and he stood without moving, as if trying to absorb my pain in the hope of taking it from me and making it his own.

In the morning, Dad drove me to the airport and stood beside me at the gate while I waited for my flight to be called. When it was time, I rose. My dad held out his hand; I hugged him instead. His body was rigid, but I didn’t care. “Love you, Dad.”

“I love you, too, John.”

“Find some good coins, okay?” I added, pulling back. “I want to hear all about them.”