The Guardian(22)
Author: Nicholas Sparks

The son played his part well. He kept his eyes downcast; at times, he brought his finger to his cheek as if to swipe at a tear. He slipped his arm around his mother, and nodded grimly and said thank you when others came up to offer their condolences.

The next day, however, when the crowds were gone, he returned to the grave and stood in front of the freshly turned earth.

Then, he spat on it.

In the darkroom, Richard tacked one of the photographs to the wall, reminded that the past casts long shadows. It’s easy to get confused, he thought. He knew she couldn’t help it, and he understood. He forgave her for what she had done.

He stared at her image. How could he not forgive her?

Nineteen

The Guardian

Because she was already dressed by the time Richard left, Julie had enough time to stop and grab a newspaper before she went into work. She sat at a small table outside a bagel shop, sipping coffee and reading, while Singer lounged at her feet.

Putting aside the newspaper, she watched the quiet downtown come to life. One by one, signs in store windows were flipped, doors propped open to catch the early morning breeze. The sky was cloudless, and there was a hint of dew on the windshields of cars that had been parked on the street overnight.

Julie rose, offered the newspaper to a couple at the next table, tossed her empty cup into the garbage, and started up the street toward the salon. The garage had already been open for an hour, and thinking she still had a few minutes before she had to be at work, she decided, Why not? I’m sure he’s not too busy yet. Besides, she wanted to drop in to make sure that what she’d been feeling the night before wasn’t her imagination.

She didn’t intend to tell Mike that Richard had ended up spending the night. Try as she might, she couldn’t think of any way to tell him that wouldn’t seem suspect, especially in light of what had happened with Sarah. He would always wonder about it, she felt, creating a stubborn splinter of doubt and hurt. Anyway, it wasn’t important. It was over now, and that’s all that mattered.

She crossed the street, Singer trotting ahead. By the time she walked past the cars waiting to be serviced, Mike was already making his way toward her, looking as though he’d just picked the winning ticket in the lottery.

“Hey, Julie,” he said. “What a nice surprise.”

Though he had a streak of grease on his cheek and his brow was already shiny with sweat, she couldn’t help but think, You look pretty darn good. And I’m definitely not imagining it.

“Yeah, I’m happy to see you, too, big guy,” Mike added, reaching toward Singer. It was while he was petting Singer that she noticed the Band-Aids.

“Hey, what happened to your fingers?”

Mike glanced at his hands. “Oh, it’s nothing. They’re just a little sore this morning.”

“Why?”

“I guess I kind of scrubbed ’em too hard last night after I got home.”

She frowned. “Because of what I said on the beach?”

“No,” he said. Then, shrugging, he added, “Well, I guess that was part of the reason.”

“I was just teasing.”

“I know,” he said. “But I got to wondering whether a new soap might work better.”

“So what did you use? Ajax?”

“Ajax, 409, Lysol. I pretty much tried everything.”

She put her hands on her h*ps and studied him. “You know, sometimes I can’t help wondering what you’ll be like when you grow up.”

“I don’t think there’ll be much chance of that, to tell you the truth.”

She laughed, thinking, I like this guy. How could I not?

“Well, I just wanted to drop in to tell you I had a great time last night.”

“Me too,” he said. “And I’m looking forward to tonight.”

“It should be fun.”

Their eyes met before Julie glanced at her watch. “But listen, I should probably be going. I’ve got appointments all morning, and I’m supposed to have lunch with Emma, so I can’t fall behind.”

“Say hi to Emma for me, will you?”

“Sure,” she said. “Have fun today.”

“You too.”

She winked. “And watch those fingers, will you? I’d hate to think you’ll be bleeding all over the engines you work on.”

“Ha, ha,” he said. Not that he minded being teased. He knew this was her way of flirting with him. Real flirting, not friendly flirting.

And by God, he liked that! He liked that a lot!

They said good-bye, and a moment later Julie was crossing the street with a bounce in her step.

The Guardian

“So it looks like your date went pretty well, huh?” In his hand, Henry held a half-eaten doughnut.

Mike hooked his thumb into his coveralls and sniffed. “Oh yeah,” he said. “It went real well.”

Henry waved the doughnut and shook his head. “Will you cut the James Dean stuff, little brother? I’m telling you-it’s not you. And it can’t hide the cross-eyed goofy look in your eyes, either.”

“I don’t look goofy.”

“Goofy. Love-struck. Whatever.”

“Hey, I can’t help it if she likes me.”

“I know you can’t. You’re just irresistible, aren’t you?”

“I thought you’d be happy for me.”

“I am happy,” he said. “And I’m proud of you, too.”

“Why?”

“Because somehow, whatever your plan was, it looks like it worked.”

The Guardian

“So what happened with Richard?” Emma asked. “At the bar the other night, it looked like you two were getting along great.”

“Oh, you know how it goes. . . . He was nice, but I just didn’t feel anything for him.”

“I guess it was the way he looked, huh?”

“That part, I’ll admit, wasn’t so bad,” Julie said, and Emma laughed.

They were having salads at the deli, formerly a home in the historic district. Sunlight spread across the table in the corner, collecting in their glasses of tea and making them glow amber.

“I said the same thing to Henry after I got home. I kept asking why he didn’t look that way anymore.”

“What did he say?”

“He said . . .” Emma sat up in her seat and lowered her voice, mimicking Henry. “ ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if I wasn’t sure you loved me so much, I’d think you just insulted me.’ ”

Julie laughed. “You sound exactly like him.”

“Honey, when you’ve been married as long as I’ve been, you’ll find out that it’s not all that hard to do. The only thing I’m missing is the waving doughnut.”

Julie giggled into her tea, spilling a bit on the table. “But he still makes you happy, right? Even after all this time?”

“Most of the time he’s a pretty good guy. Sometimes I want to whack him with the frying pan, but I guess that’s normal, right?”

Julie’s eyes took on a mischievous gleam as she leaned forward in her seat. “Did I ever tell you I once threw a pan at Jim?”

“You did? When did that happen?”

“I can’t remember. I don’t even remember what we were fighting about, but I launched that pan right at him. It missed, but I had his attention after that.”

Emma’s eyebrows went up and down. “Life behind closed doors is always a mystery, isn’t it?”

“I’ll say.”

Emma took a sip of her tea, then started on her salad again. “So what’s this I hear about Mike?”

Julie had known this was coming. In lieu of politics or sports or the latest headlines, people in this small town thrived on the goings-on of its citizens.

“That depends on what you heard.”

“I heard he asked you out and that you went to dinner.”

“Kind of. Actually, I was the one who asked him out.”

“He couldn’t do it?”

She looked over her glass. “What do you think?”

“Mmm . . . I think he probably froze up like a shallow pond in winter.”

Julie laughed. “Pretty much.”

“So how was it? What did you do?”

Julie recounted their date, and when she was finished, Emma leaned back in her seat.

“Sounds like it went well.”

“It did.”

She studied Julie’s face for a moment. “And, what about . . . you know . . . Did you think about . . .” She trailed off, and Julie finished for her.

“Jim?”

Emma nodded, and Julie considered it. “Not as much as I thought I would,” she said. “And it didn’t really bother me at all by the end. Mike and I . . . we just get along so well. He makes me laugh. He makes me feel good about myself. It’s been a long time since I felt that way.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I was. To be honest, I wasn’t sure how it would go.”

Emma’s face softened. “That’s not surprising. You and Jim were really something. We used to joke about the way you stared at each other when we went out.”

“Yeah, we were something,” she said, a touch of wistfulness entering her voice.

Emma paused. “How did Mike seem?”

“Fine, I guess. He was pretty nervous, to tell you the truth, but I don’t think it had much to do with Jim. I think it had more to do with the date itself.”

“Oh, gee, really?”

Julie smiled. “Really. But I had a good time.”

“So . . . do you like him?”

“Of course I like him.”

“No. I mean, do you like him?”

That’s what it came down to, didn’t it? Julie thought. In the end, she didn’t need to answer; her expression spoke volumes, and Emma reached across the table to squeeze Julie’s hand.

“I’m glad. I always figured this was coming.”

“You did?”

“I think everyone did, with the exception of you and Mike. It was just a matter of time.”

“You never said anything.”

“I didn’t have to. I figured that you’d recognize the same things in Mike that I do when you were good and ready.”

“Like what?”

“That he’ll never let you down. That boy’s got a heart the size of Kentucky, and he loves you. That’s important. Take it from someone who knows. My mom used to tell me that whatever you do, marry someone who loves you more than you love him.”

“No she didn’t.”

“Of course she did. And I listened to her. Why do you think Henry and I get along so well? I’m not saying that I don’t love him, because I do. But if I ever left Henry or something, God forbid, ever happened to me, I don’t think he’d be able to go on. And the guy would risk his life for mine in a heartbeat.”

“And you think Mike’s that way?”

“Honey, you can bet your bottom dollar on it.”

The Guardian

Julie was still thinking about her lunch with Emma when she left the salon at the end of the day.

Thinking about a lot of things, actually. Especially Jim. No doubt that wasn’t Emma’s intention, and even Julie couldn’t put her finger on exactly why she was feeling as she did, but it had something to do with Emma’s comment about her mother. And, of course, Emma’s remark about Henry not being able to go on if he ever lost her.

That afternoon, she’d missed Jim more than she had in a long time. She supposed it was because of what was happening with Mike. She was moving on, but she began to wonder if Jim would have been able to, had their positions been reversed. She thought he probably would have, but if not, did that mean he had loved her more than she’d loved him? And what will happen, she wondered, if I do fall in love with Mike? What would happen to her feelings for Jim? Her memories of Jim? Those were the questions that cycled endlessly through her mind after lunch, questions with answers she didn’t want to face. Would her memories gradually diminish, she wondered, fading away like decaying photographs?

She didn’t know. Nor did she know why the prospect of seeing Mike tonight left her feeling more nervous than she’d been yesterday. More nervous than she’d felt about any of her other dates, for that matter. Why now?

Maybe, she thought, answering her own question, it’s because I know this one is different.

Julie reached the Jeep and got in; Singer hopped into the back, and Julie started the engine. She didn’t head toward home. Instead, she followed the main street for a few blocks and took a left, heading toward the outskirts of town. A few minutes later, after another turn, she reached Brookview Cemetery.

Jim’s headstone was a short walk away, just over the rise and off the main path, in the shade of a hickory tree. Julie made her way up the path. When she got close, Singer stopped, refusing to follow any farther. He never had. In the beginning, she wasn’t sure why Singer always stayed back, but over time she came to think that somehow he knew she wanted to be alone here.

She reached the gravesite and stood over it, not knowing what she would feel today. She took a deep breath, waiting for the tears to come, but they didn’t. Nor did she feel the heaviness she always had in the past. She pictured Jim in her mind, recalling the happy times, and though a faint feeling of sadness and loss came with the memories, it was like hearing a clock tower chime in the distance, echoing softly before finally fading away. In its place, there was a numbness; she wasn’t sure what it meant until she saw the winged angel etched above his name, the one that always reminded her of the letter that had come with Singer.

It would break my heart if I thought you’d never be happy again. . . . Find someone who makes you happy. . . . The world is a better place when you smile.

Standing by his grave, she suddenly realized that maybe this was what he’d meant by those words. And as she had the night before, she suddenly knew Jim would be happy for her.