Free Dear John by Nicholas Sparks

Randy and Brad were playing Frisbee by the water’s edge, running and shouting. A few others wandered over to join them.
    “I know,” I said. “But it’s not just that. We’ve always been strangers. I mean, it’s just so hard to talk to him.”
    As soon as I said it, I realized she was the first person I’d ever admitted it to. Strange. But then, most of what I was saying to her sounded strange.
    “Most people our age say that about their parents.”
    Maybe, I thought. But this was different. It wasn’t a generational difference, it was the fact that for my dad, normal chitchat was all but impossible, unless it dealt with coins. I said nothing more, however, and Savannah smoothed the sand in front of her. When she spoke, her voice was soft. “I’d like to meet him.”
    I turned toward her. “Yeah?”
    “He sounds interesting. I’ve always loved people who have this . . . passion for life.”
    “It’s a passion for coins, not life,” I corrected her.
    “It’s the same thing. Passion is passion. It’s the excitement between the tedious spaces, and it doesn’t matter where it’s directed.” She shuffled her feet in the sand. “Well, most of the time, anyway. I’m not talking vices here.”
    “Like you and caffeine.”
    She smiled, flashing the small gap between her two front teeth. “Exactly. It can be coins or sports or politics or horses or music or faith . . . the saddest people I’ve ever met in life are the ones who don’t care deeply about anything at all. Passion and satisfaction go hand in hand, and without them, any happiness is only temporary, because there’s nothing to make it last. I’d love to hear your dad talk about coins, because that’s when you see a person at his best, and I’ve found that someone else’s happiness is usually infectious.”
    I was struck by her words. Despite Tim’s opinion that she was naive, she seemed far more mature than most people our age. Then again, considering the way she looked in her bikini, she probably could have recited the phone book and I would have been impressed.
    Savannah sat up beside me, and her gaze followed mine. The game of Frisbee was in full swing; as Brad zipped the disk, a couple of others went running for it. They both dove for it simultaneously, splashing in the shallows as their heads collided. The one in red shorts came up empty, swearing and holding his head, his shorts covered in sand. The others laughed, and I found myself smiling and wincing simultaneously.
    “Did you see that?” I asked.
    “Hold on,” she said instead. “I’ll be right back.” She trotted over to red shorts. He saw her approaching and froze, as did the guy next to him. Savannah, I realized, had pretty much the same effect on every guy, not just me. I could see her talking and smiling, turning that earnest gaze on the guy, who nodded as she spoke, looking like a chastised adolescent. She returned to my side and sat again. I didn’t ask, knowing it wasn’t my business, but I knew I was telegraphing my curiosity.
    “Normally, I wouldn’t have said anything, but I asked him to keep his language in check because of all the families out here,” she explained. “There are lots of little kids around. He said he would.”
    I should have guessed. “Did you suggest he use ‘Holy cow’ or ‘Geez’ instead?”
    She squinted at me mischievously. “You liked those expressions, didn’t you.”
    “I’m thinking of passing them on to my squad. They’ll add to our intimidation factor when we’re busting down doors and launching RPGs.”
    She giggled. “Definitely scarier than swearing, even if I don’t know what an RPG is.”
    “Rocket-propelled grenade.” Despite myself, I liked her more with every passing minute. “What are you doing tonight?”
    “I don’t have any plans. Well, except for the meeting. Why? Did you want to bring me to meet your father?”
    “No. Well, not tonight, anyway. Later. Tonight, I wanted to show you around