Free Dear John by Nicholas Sparks Page A

Wilmington.”
    “Are you asking me out?”
    “Yeah,” I admitted. “I’ll have you back whenever you want. I know you’ve got to work tomorrow, but there’s this great place that I want to show you.”
    “What kind of place?”
    “A local place. Specializes in seafood. But it’s more of an experience.”
    She wrapped her arms around her knees. “I usually don’t date strangers,” she finally said, “and we only met yesterday. You think I can trust you?”
    “I wouldn’t,” I said.
    She laughed. “Well, in that case, I suppose I can make an exception.”
    “Yeah?”
    “Yeah,” she said. “I’m a sucker for honest guys with crew cuts. What time?”

Four
    I was home by five, and though I didn’t feel sunburned—that Southern European skin again—the burn was obvious when I showered. The water stung as it ricocheted off my chest and shoulders, and my face made me feel as if I were running a low fever. Afterward, I shaved for the first time since I’d been home and dressed in a clean pair of shorts and one of the few relatively nice button-down shirts I owned, light blue. Lucy had bought it for me and swore the color was perfect for me. I rolled up the sleeves and left the shirt untucked, then rummaged through my closet for an ancient pair of sandals.
    Through the crack in the door, I could see my dad at his desk, and it struck me that for the second night in a row I’d made other plans for dinner. Nor had I spent any time with him this weekend. He wouldn’t complain, I knew, but I still felt a pang of guilt. After we stopped talking about coins, breakfast and dinner were the only things we shared, and I was now depriving him even of that. Maybe I hadn’t changed as much as I thought I had. I was staying in his home and eating his food, and I was just about to ask him whether I could borrow his car. In other words, pretty much leading my own life and using him in the process. I wondered what Savannah would say to that, but I think I already knew the answer. Savannah sometimes sounded a lot like the little voice that had taken up residence in my head but never bothered paying rent, and right now it whispered that if I felt guilty, maybe I was doing something wrong. I resolved that I would spend more time with him. It was a cop-out and I admitted it, but I didn’t know what else to do.
    When I opened the door, Dad looked startled to see me.
    “Hey, Dad,” I said, taking my usual seat.
    “Hi, John.” As soon as he spoke, he glanced at his desk and ran a hand over his thinning hair. When I added nothing, he realized that he should ask me a question. “How was your day?” he finally inquired.
    I shifted in my seat. “It was great, actually. I spent most of the day with Savannah, the girl I told you about last night.”
    “Oh.” His eyes drifted to the side, refusing to meet mine. “You didn’t tell me about her.”
    “I didn’t?”
    “No, but that’s okay. It was late.” For the first time, he seemed to realize I was dressed up, or at least as dressed up as he’d ever seen me, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask about it.
    I tugged at my shirt, letting him off the hook. “Yeah, I know, trying to impress her, right? I’m taking her out to dinner tonight,” I said. “Is it okay if I borrow the car?”
    “Oh . . . okay,” he said.
    “I mean, did you need it tonight? I might be able to call a friend or something.”
    “No,” he said. He reached into his pocket for the keys. Nine dads out of ten would have tossed them; mine held them out.
    “You okay?” I asked.
    “Just tired,” he said.
    I stood and took the keys. “Dad?”
    He glanced up again.
    “I’m sorry about not having dinner with you these last couple of nights.”
    “It’s okay,” he said. “I understand.”
    The sun was beginning its slow descent, and as I pulled out, the sky was a swirl of fruity colors that contrasted dramatically with the evening skies I’d come to know in Germany. Traffic was horrendous,