The Guardian by Nicholas Sparks

Author:Nicholas Sparks [Sparks, Nicholas]
Language: spa
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Published: 2010-11-05T21:53:19.449000+00:00

Mike brought Julie home and was still in the driveway unloading her things when she went inside. Singer followed her, and when she put her purse on the kitchen counter, he balanced on his two back legs to greet her. She was trying to fend off his lapping tongue when she noticed the answering machine blinking with a single message.

She pushed Singer away and his feet met the floor; he padded toward the living room and out the door, probably to visit with Mike. In the kitchen, the refrigerator was humming. A fly was flailing against the window, buzzing in anger. She heard none of it. Nor could she hear Mike or Singer, or even the sounds of her own breathing. Instead, in the kitchen, the only thing she noticed was the machine. The blinking was ominous, hypnotic.

Play me, it seemed to be saying. Play me. . . .

For an instant, the floor seemed unsteady, and Julie found herself on the boat again, looking toward the beach. He’d waved at her, she thought. He’d been watching her, and now he’d called to tell her about it.

She shook her head. No, that wasn’t it. He wasn’t there. He was never there. It had been a mirage. Her eyes had been playing tricks, a product of one too many beers and a case of the jitters.

In the kitchen, the machine kept blinking.

C’mon, Julie thought, get a hold of yourself. Anyone could have left a message, so what’s the big deal? That’s the reason I have the machine in the first place, so just head over there and press the button. As soon as I do, I’ll find out Mabel or another friend has called, or it’s someone calling for an appointment, or someone wanting me to subscribe to one magazine or another, or to support the local United Way. Just press the button and see how ridiculous this is.

Yet moving to the phone was almost impossible. Her stomach was knotted up; her legs were stiff. She reached the machine and brought her hand up, then hesitated, her finger resting on the button.

Play me. . . .

She closed her eyes, thinking, I can do this.

Breathing hard, she couldn’t deny that as brave and logical as she’d tried to be, as much as she’d tried to convince herself that she was blowing this out of proportion, fear was getting the best of her. Please, she thought, let there be no messages filled with nothing. Let me hear a voice. Any voice but his.

With a trembling hand, she pressed the button.

At first there was nothing but silence, and she found herself holding her breath. Then, faintly, came the sound of someone whispering, a whisper impossible to identify, and she leaned closer to the machine to make out the voice. She listened, concentrating hard, and just as she was reaching for the delete button to erase it, she recognized the message itself. Her eyes grew wide as she heard the chorus of a song, a tune she knew by heart.

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