The Best of Me - Nicholas Sparks [124]
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.