The Best of Me(28)
Author: Nicholas Sparks

Tuck

Amanda put the letter back into her purse, knowing Tuck was right. She could feel the truth as deeply as she’d ever felt anything, and she could barely breathe.

With a feeling of desperate urgency she didn’t quite comprehend, she gathered her bags and carried them down the stairs. Normally, she would have placed them near the door until she was ready to leave. Instead, she found herself reaching for the knob and making her way directly to her car.

She tossed her bags into the trunk before moving around the car. Only then did she notice her mother standing on the front porch, watching her.

Amanda said nothing, nor did her mother. They simply stared at each other. Amanda had the uncanny feeling that her mother knew exactly where she was going, but with Tuck’s words still ringing in her ears, Amanda was beyond caring. All she knew was that she needed to find Dawson.

Dawson might still be at Tuck’s, but she doubted it. It wouldn’t have taken him long to wash the car, and with his cousins on the loose she knew that he wouldn’t stay in town.

But there was someplace else he said he might go…

The words came into her mind suddenly, without conscious thought, and she slipped behind the wheel, knowing exactly where he might be.

At the cemetery, Dawson stepped out of the car and made the short walk toward David Bonner’s headstone.

In the past, whenever he visited the cemetery, he came at odd hours and did his best to remain unnoticed and anonymous.

Today, that wouldn’t be possible. Weekends tended to be busy, and there were clusters of people walking among the headstones. No one appeared to pay any attention to him as he walked, but he kept his head bowed nonetheless.

Finally reaching the site, he noticed that the flowers he’d left on Friday morning were still there, but they’d been moved to the side. Probably by the caretaker when he’d mowed. Squatting, Dawson plucked at a few of the longer blades of grass near the headstone that had been missed.

His thoughts drifted back to Amanda, and he was gripped by a sense of intense loneliness. His life, he knew, had been cursed from the beginning, and closing his eyes, he said a final prayer for David Bonner, unaware that his shadow had just been joined by another. Unaware that someone was standing right behind him.

Reaching the main street that ran through Oriental, Amanda stopped at the intersection. A left turn would bring her past the marina and eventually to Tuck’s. A right turn would lead her out of town, eventually becoming the rural highway she’d follow on her way back home. Straight ahead, beyond a wrought-iron fence, was the cemetery. It was the largest in Oriental, the place where Dr. David Bonner had been laid to rest. Dawson, she remembered, had said he might drop by on his way out of town.

The gates to the cemetery were open. She scanned the half-dozen cars and trucks in the parking lot, searching for his rental car, and her breath caught when she spotted it. Three days ago, he’d parked it beside hers when he’d arrived at Tuck’s. Earlier that morning, she’d stood beside it as he’d kissed her one last time.

Dawson was here.

We’re still young, he’d told her. We still have time to make this right.

Her foot was on the brake. On the main road, a minivan rumbled past, momentarily obscuring her view, heading toward downtown. The road was otherwise deserted.

If she crossed the road and parked, she knew she’d be able to find him. She thought of Tuck’s letter, the years of grief he had endured without Clara, and Amanda knew she’d made the wrong decision. She couldn’t imagine a life without Dawson.

In her mind’s eye, she could see the scene unfold. She would surprise Dawson at Dr. Bonner’s grave and could hear herself saying that she’d been wrong to leave. She could feel her happiness as he took her in his arms once more, knowing they were meant to be together.

If she went to him again, she knew she’d follow him anywhere. Or he’d follow her. But even then, her responsibilities continued to press down on her, and ever so slowly, she removed her foot from the brake. Instead of going straight, she found herself suddenly turning the wheel, a sob catching in her chest as she headed onto the main road, the car pointing toward home.

She began to speed up, trying again to convince herself that her decision was the correct one, the only one she could realistically make. Behind her, the cemetery receded into the distance.

“Dawson, forgive me,” she whispered, wishing he could somehow hear her, wishing she’d never had to say those words at all.

A rustling behind him interrupted Dawson’s reverie, and he scrambled to his feet. Startled, he recognized her instantly but found himself speechless.

“You’re here,” Marilyn Bonner stated. “At my husband’s grave.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, dropping his gaze. “I shouldn’t have come.”

“But you did,” Marilyn said. “And you came here recently, too.” When Dawson didn’t respond, she nodded at the flowers. “I make it a point to come by after church. They weren’t here last weekend, and they’re too fresh to have been placed here earlier in the week. I’m guessing… Friday?”

Dawson swallowed before answering. “In the morning.”

Her gaze was unflinching. “You used to do that a long time ago, too. After you got out of prison? That was you, right?”

Dawson said nothing.

“I thought so,” she said. She sighed as she took a step closer to the marker. Dawson moved aside, making room as Marilyn focused on the inscription. “A lot of people put flowers out for David after he died. And that went on for a year or two, but after that, people stopped coming by, I guess. Except for me. For a while, I was the only one bringing them, and then, about four years after he died, I started seeing other flowers again. Not all the time, but enough to make me curious. I had no idea who was responsible. I asked my parents, I asked my friends, but none of them would admit to it. For a short time, I even wondered if David had been seeing someone else. Can you believe that?” She shook her head and drew a long breath. “It wasn’t until the flowers stopped arriving that I realized it was you. I knew you’d gotten out of jail and that you were on probation here. I also learned that you left town about a year later. It made me so… angry to think you’d been doing that all along.” She crossed her arms, as if trying to close herself off from the memory. “And then, this morning, I saw the flowers again. I knew it meant that you’d come back. I wasn’t sure you’d come here today… but sure enough, you did.”

Dawson shoved his hands in his pockets, suddenly wanting to be anywhere but here. “I won’t visit or bring flowers again,” he muttered. “You have my word.”

She looked at him. “And you think that makes it okay that you’ve come here at all? Considering what you did in the first place? Considering that my husband is here, instead of with me? That he missed the chance to watch his children grow up?”

“No,” he said.

“Of course you don’t,” she said. “Because you still feel guilty about what you did. That’s why you’ve been sending us money all these years, am I right?”

He wanted to lie to her but couldn’t.

“How long have you known?” he asked.

“Since the first check,” she said. “You’d stopped by my house just a couple of weeks earlier, remember? It wasn’t too hard to put two and two together.” She hesitated. “You wanted to apologize, didn’t you? In person. When you came to the porch that day?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t let you. I said… a lot of things that day. Things that maybe I shouldn’t have said.”

“You had every right to say what you did.”

A flicker of a smile formed on her lips. “You were twenty-two years old. I saw a grown man on the porch, but the older I’ve gotten, the more I’ve come to believe that people don’t really grow up until they’re at least thirty. My son is older than you were then, and I still think of him as a child.”

“You did what anyone would do.”

“Maybe,” she said, offering the slightest of shrugs. She stepped closer to him. “The money you sent helped,” she said. “It helped a lot over the years, but I don’t need your money anymore. So please stop sending it.”

“I just wanted—”

“I know what you wanted,” she interrupted. “But all the money in the world can’t bring David back, or undo the loss I felt after he died. And it can’t give my children the father they never knew.”

“I know.”

“And money can’t buy forgiveness.”

Dawson felt his shoulders sag. “I should go,” he said, turning to leave.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, you probably should. But before you leave, there’s something else you should know.”

When he turned, she willed him to meet her eyes. “I know that what happened was an accident. I’ve always known that. And I know you’d do anything to change the past. Everything you’ve done since then makes that clear. And yes, I’ll admit that I was angry and frightened and lonely when you came to my house, but I never, ever believed there was anything malicious about your actions that night. It was just one of those awful, terrible things that happen sometimes, and when you came by, I took it out on you.” She let the words sink in, and when she went on, her voice was almost kind. “I’m fine now, and my kids are fine, too. We’ve survived. We’re okay.”

When Dawson turned away, she waited until he finally faced her again.

“I came here to tell you that you don’t need my forgiveness anymore,” she said, drawing out the words. “But I also know that’s not what any of this has ever been about. It’s never been about me, or my family. It’s about you. It’s always been about you. You’ve been clinging to a terrible mistake for too long, and if you were my son, I’d tell you that it was time you finally let this go. So let it go, Dawson,” she said. “Do that for me.”

She stared at him, making sure he understood her, then turned and walked away. Dawson remained frozen as her figure receded, winding through the sentinel gravestones until she eventually vanished from sight.

18

Amanda drove on autopilot, oblivious to the crawling weekend traffic. Families in minivans and SUVs, some towing boats, thronged the highway after spending the weekend at the beach.

As she drove, she couldn’t imagine going home and having to pretend that the past few days hadn’t happened. She understood that she could tell no one about them, yet, strangely, she felt no guilt about the weekend, either. If anything, she felt regret, and she found herself wishing that she had done things differently. Had she known from the beginning how their weekend would end, she would have stayed longer with Dawson on their first night together, and she wouldn’t have turned away when she’d suspected that he was going to kiss her. She would have seen him Friday night as well, no matter how many lies she had to tell her mother, and she would give anything to have spent all of Saturday wrapped in his arms. After all, had she given in to her feelings sooner, Saturday night might have had a different ending. Perhaps the barriers, the ones that came with her marriage vows, would have been overridden. And they almost were. As they’d danced in the living room, letting him make love to her was all she could think about; as they’d kissed, she’d known exactly what would happen. She wanted him, in the way they’d once been together.

She’d believed she could go through with it; she’d believed that once they reached the bedroom, she would be able to pretend that her life in Durham no longer existed, if only for a night. Even as he undressed her and carried her to the bed, she thought she could set aside the reality of her marriage. But as much as she wanted to be someone else that night, someone free of responsibilities and untenable promises, as much as she wanted Dawson, she knew she was about to cross a line from which there would be no return. Despite the urgency of his touch and the feel of his body against hers, she couldn’t give herself over to her feelings.

Dawson hadn’t become angry; instead, he held her against him, his fingers moving through her hair. He kissed her cheek and whispered assurances; that this wasn’t important, that nothing would ever change the way he felt about her.

They stayed that way until the sky began to lighten and exhaustion settled in; in the early predawn hours, she finally fell asleep, cradled in his arms. When she woke the following morning, her first thought was to reach for Dawson. But by then, Dawson was already gone.

At the bar in the country club, long after they’d finished their round of golf, Frank signaled to the bartender for another beer, unaware of the inquiring glance the bartender shot at Roger. Roger just shrugged, having switched to Diet Coke himself. The bartender reluctantly put another bottle in front of Frank as Roger leaned closer, trying to make himself heard above the noise in the crowded bar. Over the past hour, it had become packed. The game was tied at the top of the ninth inning.

“You do remember that I’m meeting Susan for dinner, so I’m not going to be able to drive you home. And you can’t drive, either.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Do you want me to call you a cab?”

“Let’s just enjoy the game. We’ll figure it out later, okay?” Frank raised the bottle and took another drink, his glassy eyes never leaving the screen.

Abee sat in the chair beside his brother’s bed, wondering again why Ted lived in a crap hole like this. The place reeked, some disgusting combination of soiled diapers and mold and God knows what else had died around here. Combined with the baby that never stopped crying and Ella skittering around the house like a frightened ghost, it was a wonder that Ted wasn’t even crazier than he already was.