The Best of Me (47 page)
There was no question that Jared and the girls had benefited from the improved atmosphere at home. There had even been moments recently when Amanda considered it a new beginning for her and Frank. When they talked these days, the past was
seldom front and center; now they were able to laugh occasionally in each other’s company. Every Friday, they went on a date—another recommendation of the couples counselor—and while it still felt stilted at times, both of them knew it was important. They were, in many ways, getting to know each other again, for the first time in years.
There was something satisfying in that, but Amanda knew that theirs would never be a passionate marriage. Frank wasn’t, nor ever had been, wired that way, and it didn’t bother her. After all, she had known the kind of love that was worth risking everything for, the kind of love that was as rare as a glimpse of heaven.
Two years. Two years had elapsed since her weekend with Dawson Cole; two long years since the day Morgan Tanner had called to tell her that he’d passed away.
She kept the letters, along with Tuck and Clara’s photograph and the four-leaf clover, stashed in the bottom of her pajama drawer, a place where Frank would never look. Every now and then, when the ache she felt at his loss was especially strong, she’d pull those items out. She’d reread the letters and twirl the four-leaf clover between her fingers, wondering who they’d truly been to each other that weekend. They were in love, but they hadn’t been lovers; they were friends and yet also strangers after so many years. But their passion had been real, as undeniable as the ground she stood on.
Last year, a couple of days after the anniversary of Dawson’s death, she’d made a trip to Oriental. Turning in at the town cemetery, she’d hiked out to the very edge of the property, where a small rise overlooked a copse of leafy trees. It was here that Dawson’s remains were buried, far from the Coles, and even farther from the plots of the Bennetts and the Colliers. As she stood over the simple headstone, gazing at the freshly cut lilies that someone had laid there, she imagined that if by some twist of fate she was buried in
the Collier plot of this very same cemetery, their souls would eventually find each other—just as they had in life, not once but twice.
On the way out, she made a detour to pay respects on Dawson’s behalf at the grave of Dr. Bonner. And there, before his headstone, she saw an identical bouquet of lilies. Marilyn Bonner’s handiwork on both counts, she guessed, because of what Dawson had done for Alan, and the realization left her wiping her eyes as she made her way back toward her car.
Time had done nothing to diminish her memories of Dawson; if anything, her feelings for him had deepened. In a strange way, his love had given her the resolve she’d needed to make it through the hardships of the last two years.
Now, sitting on her porch as the late afternoon sun slanted through the trees, she closed her eyes and sent a silent message to him. She remembered his smile and the way his hand had felt in hers, she remembered the weekend they’d spent, and tomorrow, she’d remember it all once more. To forget him or anything about the weekend they’d shared would be a betrayal, and if there was anything Dawson deserved, it was loyalty—the same kind of loyalty he’d showed her in the long years they had spent apart. She’d loved him once and had loved him again, and nothing would ever change the way she felt. After all, Dawson had renewed her life in a way she’d never imagined possible.
Amanda put the lasagna into the oven to bake and was tossing a salad just as Annette returned home. Frank walked in a few minutes later. After giving Amanda a quick kiss, he caught up briefly with her before heading down the hall to change. Annette, chattering nonstop about the slumber party, added frosting to the cake.
Jared was next to arrive, with three friends in tow. After downing a glass of water, he went off to shower while his friends settled on the couch in the den to play video games.
Lynn pulled in half an hour later. To her surprise, Lynn was accompanied by two friends of her own. All of the young people instinctively migrated to the kitchen, Jared’s friends flirting with Lynn’s, asking what the girls were going to do later and hinting that they might be interested in coming along. Annette hugged Frank, who’d returned to the kitchen, begging him to take her to see some tween girls’ movie; Frank chugged his Diet Snapple, teasing her with promises of seeing something with guns and explosions instead, eliciting squeals of protest from Annette.
Amanda watched all of it as a casual observer might, a bemused smile lighting up her face. Getting the whole family together for dinner wasn’t exactly rare these days, but it wasn’t all that common, either. The fact that there were others here didn’t bother her in the slightest; it would make dinner a lively affair for all.
Pouring herself a glass of wine, she stole out onto the back porch, watching a pair of cardinals as they flitted from branch to branch.
“You coming?” Frank called out from the doorway behind her. “The natives are getting restless.”
“Go ahead and have them serve up,” she said. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Do you want me to get you a plate?”
“That would be great,” she said, nodding. “Thank you. But make sure everyone gets theirs first.”
Frank turned from the doorway, and through the window she watched as he moved among the crowd into the dining room.
Behind her, the door opened again.
“Hey, Mom? Are you okay?”
The sound of Jared’s voice brought her back into the moment, and she turned.
“I’m fine,” she said.
After a beat, he stepped out onto the porch, closing the door gently behind him. “You sure?” he asked. “You look like something’s bothering you.”
“I’m just tired.” She managed a reassuring smile. “Where’s Lauren?”
“She’ll be here in a little while. She wanted to go home and shower.”
“Did she have fun?”
“I think so. She hit the ball, at least. She was pretty excited about that.”
Amanda looked up at him, tracing the line of his shoulders, his neck, the plane of his cheek, still able to see the way he’d looked as a little boy.
He hesitated. “Anyway… I wanted to ask you if you thought you could help me. You never really answered me the other night.” He kicked at a tiny scuff mark on the porch. “I want to send a letter to the family. Just to thank them, you know? If it wasn’t for the donor, I wouldn’t be here.”
Amanda lowered her eyes, remembering Jared’s question of the other night.
“It’s natural to want to find out who the donor of your heart was,” she finally said, choosing her words with care. “But there are good reasons why the process is supposed to remain anonymous.”
There was truth in what she said, even if it wasn’t the whole truth.
“Oh.” His shoulders slumped. “I thought that might be the case,” he said. “All they told me was that he was forty-two when he died. I just wanted… to find out more about what kind of person he was.”
I could tell you more,
Amanda thought to herself.
A lot more.
She’d suspected the truth since Morgan Tanner had called, and she’d made some calls to confirm her suspicions. Dawson, she’d learned, had been taken off life support at CarolinaEast Regional Medical Center late Monday night. He’d been kept alive long after doctors knew he would never recover, because he was an organ donor.
Dawson, she knew, had saved Alan’s life—but in the end, he’d
saved Jared’s as well. And for her that meant… everything.
I gave you the best of me,
he’d told her once, and with every beat of her son’s heart, she knew he’d done exactly that.
“How about a quick hug,” she said, “before we go inside?”
Jared rolled his eyes, but he opened his arms anyway. “I love you, Mom,” he mumbled, pulling her close.
Amanda closed her eyes, feeling the steady rhythm in his chest. “I love you, too.”
A
LSO BY
N
ICHOLAS
S
PARKS
The Notebook
Message in a Bottle
A Walk to Remember
The Rescue
A Bend in the Road
Nights in Rodanthe
The Guardian
The Wedding
Three Weeks with My Brother
(with Micah Sparks)
True Believer
At First Sight
Dear John
The Choice
The Lucky One
The Last Song
Safe Haven
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright (c) 2011 by Nicholas Sparks
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Grand Central Publishing
Hachette Book Group
237 Park Avenue
New York, NY 10017
Visit our website at
www.HachetteBookGroup.com
.
www.twitter.com/grandcentralpub
.
First eBook Edition: October 2011
Grand Central Publishing is a division of Hachette Book Group, Inc.
The Grand Central Publishing name and logo is a trademark of Hachette Book Group, Inc.
The Hachette Speakers Bureau provides a wide range of authors for speaking events. To find out more, go to
www.hachettespeakersbureau.com
or call (866) 376-6591.
The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.
ISBN: 978-1-4555-0254-7
