The Best of Me - Nicholas Sparks [102]
The clock showed that he’d slept for over an hour. Outside, the sun was almost down and the colors in his hotel room were muted.
Dreamlike…
Dawson stood and glanced around, spotting his wallet and keys near the TV. Seeing them jogged his memory about something else, and striding across the room he riffled through the pockets of the suit he’d been wearing. He checked them again to make sure he wasn’t mistaken, then quickly rummaged through his bag. Finally, he grabbed his wallet and keys and hurried downstairs to the parking lot.
He searched every inch of the rental car, working methodically through the glove compartment, the trunk, between the seats, the floor. But he was already beginning to recall what had happened earlier that day.
He’d set Tuck’s letter on the workbench after reading it. Amanda’s mother had walked by and he’d turned his attention to Amanda on the porch, and he’d forgotten to retrieve the letter.
It must still be on the workbench. He could leave it, of course… except that he couldn’t imagine doing that. It was the last letter that Tuck had written to him, his final gift, and Dawson wanted to take it home.
He knew that Ted and Abee would be scouring the town to find him, but nonetheless he found himself driving across the bridge, on his way back to Oriental. He’d be there in forty minutes.
After taking a deep breath to steel himself, Alan Bonner entered the Tidewater, noting an even smaller crowd than he’d expected. There were a couple of guys at the bar and a few toward the rear playing pool; only one of the tables was occupied, by a couple that was counting out cash and appeared to be leaving any minute. Nothing like Saturday night, or even Friday night for that matter. With the jukebox playing in the back and the television near the cash register on, the place seemed almost cozy.
Candy was wiping down the bar, and she smiled at him before waving with the towel. She was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, with her hair in a ponytail, and though she wasn’t quite as dolled up as usual, she was still prettier than anyone else in town. The butterflies in his stomach began to flutter as he wondered whether she’d agree to have dinner with him.
He stood straighter, thinking, No excuses. He’d take a seat at the bar, just be his normal self, and gradually work the conversation to the point where he could ask her out. He reminded himself that she’d definitely been flirting with him, and while she might be a flirt by nature, he was sure there’d been more to it than that. He could tell. He knew it, and with a deep breath, he started toward the bar.
Amanda burst through the door of Duke University Hospital’s emergency room, staring wildly at the crowd of patients and families. She’d continued to call Jared and Frank over and over, but neither of them had answered. Finally, she’d phoned Lynn in frantic desperation. Her daughter was still at Lake Norman, a few hours away. Lynn had broken down at the news and promised to be there as quickly as she could.
Standing inside the doorway, Amanda scanned the room, hoping to find Jared. She prayed that her worries had been for nothing. Then, to her bewilderment, she spotted Frank at the far end of the room. He stood and began walking toward her, appearing less injured than she’d assumed he would be. She peered over his shoulder, trying to locate her son. But Jared was nowhere to be seen.
“Where’s Jared?” she demanded when Frank reached her side. “Are you okay? What happened? What’s going on?”
She was still barking out questions when Frank took her arm and led her back outside.
“Jared’s been admitted,” he said. Despite the hours that had passed since he’d been at the club, his words were still slurred. She could tell he was trying to sound sober, but the sour smell of booze saturated his breath and his sweat. “I don’t know what’s going on. No one seems to know anything. But the nurse said something about