The Best of Me(23)
Author: Nicholas Sparks

Dawson’s mouth felt dry. “Then why did you marry him?”

“Because I thought it was good enough. And I hoped I could change. That over time, maybe I would come to feel the same way about him as I did about you. But I didn’t, and as the years went on, I think he came to see that, too. And it hurt him, and I knew it hurt him, but the harder he tried to show me how important I was to him, the more suffocated I felt. And I resented that. I resented him.” She winced at her own words. “I know that makes me sound like an awful person.”

“You’re not awful,” Dawson said. “You’re being honest.”

“Let me finish, okay?” she said. “I need you to understand this. You need to know that I do love him, and I cherish the family we’ve created. Frank adores our children. They’re the center of his life, and I think that’s why losing Bea was so hard on us. You have no idea how terrible it is to watch your child get sicker and sicker and know that there’s nothing you can do to help her. You end up riding this roller-coaster of emotions, feeling everything from anger at God to betrayal to a sense of utter failure and devastation. In the end, though, I was able to survive the pain. Frank never really recovered. Because underlying all those other things is this bottomless despair and it just… hollows you out. There’s a gaping hole where all this joy used to be. Because that’s what Bea was. She was joy in living form. We used to joke that she came out of the womb smiling. Even as a baby, she hardly ever cried. And that never changed. She laughed all the time; to her, everything new was a thrilling discovery. Jared and Lynn used to compete for her attention. Can you imagine that?”

She paused, her voice becoming more ragged. “And then, of course, the headaches started and she began bumping into things as she toddled around. So we visited a host of specialists, and each of them told us there was nothing he could do for her.” She swallowed hard. “After that… it just started getting worse. But she was who she was, you know? Just happy. Even toward the end, when she was barely able to sit up on her own, she still laughed. Every time I heard that laugh, I’d feel my heart break just a little bit more.” Amanda was quiet then, absently staring toward the darkened window. Dawson waited.

“At the end, I used to lie in bed with her for hours, just holding her as she slept, and when she’d wake up we’d lie there facing each other. I couldn’t turn away, because I wanted to memorize everything about the way she looked: her nose, her chin, her little curls. And when she’d finally fall asleep again, I’d hold her close and just weep at the unfairness of it all.”

When Amanda finished she blinked, seemingly unaware of the tears spilling down her cheeks. She made no move to wipe them away, and neither did Dawson. Instead, he sat perfectly still, attuned to every word.

“After she died, part of me died, too. And for a long time, Frank and I could barely look at each other. Not because we were angry, but because it hurt. I could see Bea in Frank, and Frank could see her in me, and it was… unbearable. We barely held ourselves together, even though Jared and Lynn needed us more than ever. I started to drink two or three glasses of wine every night, trying to numb myself, but Frank would drink even more. Finally, though, I recognized that it wasn’t helping. So I stopped. But for Frank, it wasn’t so easy.” She stopped to pinch the bridge of her nose, the memory awakening the familiar traces of a headache. “He couldn’t stop. I thought that having another child might heal him, but it didn’t, really. He’s an alcoholic, and for the last ten years he’s lived half a life. And I’ve reached the point where I don’t know how to give him back that other half.”

Dawson swallowed. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I don’t, either. I like to tell myself that if Bea hadn’t died, this wouldn’t have happened to Frank. But then I wonder whether his decline was partly my fault, too. Because I’d been hurting him for years, even before Bea. Because he knew that I didn’t love him in the same way he loved me.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said. Even to him, the words sounded inadequate.

She shook her head. “That’s kind of you to say, and on the surface I know you’re right. But if he’s drinking to escape these days, it’s probably to escape from me. Because he knows I’m angry and disappointed and he knows there’s no way he can erase ten years of regret, no matter what he does. And who wouldn’t want to escape from that? Especially when it comes from someone you love? When all you really want is for that person to love you as much as you love them?”

“Don’t do that,” he said, capturing her gaze with his own. “You can’t take the blame for his problems and make them yours.”

“Spoken like someone who’s never been married.” She gave him a crooked smile. “Let me just say that the longer I’ve been married, the more I’ve come to realize that few things are ever black and white. And I’m not saying that the problems in our marriage are entirely my fault. I’m just saying that there might be a few shades of gray somewhere in there. Neither one of us is perfect.”

“That sounds like something a therapist would say.”

“It probably is. A few months after Bea died, I started seeing a therapist twice a week. I don’t know how I would have survived without her. Jared and Lynn saw her, too, but not as long. Kids are more resilient, I guess.”

“I’ll take your word on that.”

She rested her chin on her knees, her expression reflecting her turmoil. “I never really told Frank about us.”

“No?”

“He knew I’d had a boyfriend in high school, but I didn’t tell him how serious it was. I don’t think I’ve ever even told him your name. And my mom and dad, obviously, tried their best to pretend it had never happened at all. They treated it like this deep, dark family secret. Naturally, my mother breathed a sigh of relief when I told her I was engaged. She wasn’t thrilled, mind you. My mom doesn’t get thrilled about anything. She probably considers it beneath her. But if it makes you feel better, I had to remind her of Frank’s name. Twice. Your name, on the other hand…”

Dawson laughed before suddenly growing quiet. She took a sip of wine, feeling the heat as it slid down her throat, barely aware of the soft music still playing in the background. “So much has happened, hasn’t it? Since we last saw each other?” Her voice was small.

“Life happened.”

“It was more than just life.”

“What are you talking about?”

“All this. Being here, seeing you. It makes me think back to a time when I still believed that all my dreams could come true. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like that.” She turned toward him, their faces inches apart. “Do you think we could have made it? If we’d moved away and started our lives together?”

“It’s hard to say.”

“But if you had to guess?”

“Yes. I think we would have made it.”

She nodded, feeling something crumble inside at his answer. “I think so, too.”

Outside, a squall began to force waves of rain against the windows like handfuls of tossed pebbles. The radio played softly, music from another time, blending with the steady rhythm of the rain. The warmth of the room was cocoonlike, and Amanda could almost believe that nothing else existed.

“You used to be shy,” she murmured. “When we were first paired together in class, you barely spoke to me. I kept dropping hints, waiting for you to ask me out and wondering whether you ever would.”

“You were beautiful.” Dawson shrugged. “I was no one. It made me nervous.”

“Do I still make you nervous?”

“No,” he said, then reconsidered. A slight smile eased onto his face. “Maybe a little.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Is there anything I can do?”

He took her hand and turned it this way and that, noting how perfectly their hands seemed to fit together, reminding him again of what he had given up. A week ago, he’d been content. Maybe not perfectly happy, maybe a bit isolated, but content. He’d understood who he was and his place in the world. He was alone, but that had been a conscious choice, and even now he didn’t regret it. Especially now. Because no one would have been able to take Amanda’s place, and no one ever would.

“Will you dance with me?” he finally asked.

She answered with the ghost of a smile. “Yes.”

He rose from the couch and gently helped her up. She stood, her legs feeling shaky as they moved toward the center of the small room. The music seemed to fill the room with longing, and for a moment neither of them knew what to do. Amanda waited, watching as Dawson turned to her, his face unreadable. Finally, placing a hand on her hip, he drew her closer. Their bodies came together then and she leaned into him, feeling the solidness of his chest as his arm circled her waist. Ever so slowly, they began to turn and sway.

He felt so good to her. She breathed in the smell of him, clean and real and everything she remembered. She could feel the taut plane of his stomach and his legs against hers. Closing her eyes, she laid her head on his shoulder, flooded with desire, thinking of the first night they’d ever made love. She’d been trembling that night and she was trembling now.

The song ended but they continued to hold each other as another song started. His breath was hot on her neck and she heard him exhale, a kind of release. His face inched even closer, and she leaned her head back in abandon, wanting the dance to last forever. Wanting them to last forever.

His lips grazed her neck first, then gently brushed her cheek, and though she heard a faraway warning echo, she strained toward the butterfly touch.

They kissed then, first hesitantly, then more passionately, making up for a lifetime apart. She could feel his hands on her, all of her, and when they finally separated, Amanda was conscious only of how long it had been since she’d ached for this. Ached for him. She stared at Dawson through half-closed eyes, wanting him more than anyone she’d ever known, wanting all of him, here and now. She could feel his desire as well, and with a movement that seemed almost preordained, she kissed him once more before leading him to the bedroom.

13

The day was crap. Started like crap, the afternoon and evening were crap, even the weather was crap. Abee felt like he was dying. It had been raining for hours, the water soaking through his shirt, and he couldn’t stop the alternating bouts of shivering and sweating no matter how hard he tried.

He could tell Ted wasn’t doing much better. When he’d checked himself out of the hospital, he’d barely made it to the car without falling. But that didn’t stop him from making directly for the back room of his shack, where he kept all his weapons. They’d loaded up the truck before setting out for Tuck’s.

Only problem was, no one was here. There were two cars parked out front but no sign of either of their owners. Abee knew that Dawson and the girl were coming back. They had to, since their cars were here, so he and Ted had split up before settling in to wait.

And wait. And wait.

They’d been there at least two hours before the rain started to fall. Another hour in the rain, and the chills started up. Every time he shivered, his eyes flashed white because of the pain in his gut. Swear to God, he felt like he was dying. He tried thinking about Candy to pass the time, but all that did was make him wonder whether that guy would be there again tonight. The thought enraged him, which made him shiver even more, and the whole thing would start over. He wondered where the hell Dawson was and what he was doing out here in the first place. He wasn’t even sure whether he believed Ted about Dawson—in fact, he was pretty sure he didn’t—but catching the look on Ted’s face, he decided to keep his mouth shut. Ted wasn’t going to give up on this. And for the first time in his life, Abee was a little afraid of what Ted would do if he walked over and announced that they were going home.

Meanwhile, Candy and that guy were probably at the bar right now. Both of them laughing it up, sharing those special smiles. Just picturing it made his pulse race with fury. The pain flashed then, and for a second he was sure he was going to pass out. He was going to kill that guy. Swear to God. Next time he saw him, he was going to kill him and then make sure Candy understood the rules. He just had to get this piece of family business out of the way first, so Ted would be around to help him. God knows he was in no condition to handle it himself.

Another hour passed and the sun sank lower in the sky. Ted felt like he was going to puke. Every time he moved, his head felt like it was going to explode, and his arm was already itching so bad beneath the cast that he wanted to tear the damn thing off. He couldn’t breathe through his swollen nose and all he wanted was for Dawson to show up so he could end this thing here and now.

He didn’t even care whether little miss cheerleader was with him. Yesterday, he’d worried about witnesses, but not anymore. He’d just hide her body, too. Maybe folks would think the two of them had run off together.

Even so, where the hell was Dawson? Where could he have gone for the whole damn day? And in the rain? He sure as hell hadn’t planned on this. Across the way, Abee looked like he was dying. Guy was practically green, but Ted couldn’t do this alone. Not one-handed, while his brain was swooshing from side to side inside his skull. It hurt to breathe, for God’s sake, and whenever he moved he got so dizzy he had to hold on to something to keep from toppling over.

As darkness fell and the mist rolled in, Ted kept telling himself that they’d be back any minute, but it was getting harder to convince himself of that. He hadn’t eaten since the day before, and his dizziness was getting worse.

By ten o’clock, there was still no sign of them. Then eleven. Then midnight, with the stars between the clouds a blanket of flickering lights above them.