The Best of Me - Nicholas Sparks [38]
In the years since David had died, she’d come to treasure her hard-won independence. She’d learned to trust her instincts, and she had to admit that she liked being in control of her own life, without anyone’s expectations getting in the way. She supposed that was why she’d rejected Leo’s repeated marriage proposals. An accountant in Morehead City, he was smart, well-to-do, and she enjoyed spending time with him. Most important, he respected her, and the kids had always adored him. Emily and Alan couldn’t understand why she kept saying no.
But Leo knew she’d always say no, and that was okay with him, because the truth was they were both comfortable with the way things were. They’d probably see a movie tomorrow night, and on Sunday she’d attend church and then visit the cemetery to pay her respects to David, as she’d done every weekend for nearly a quarter century. She’d meet Leo later for dinner. In her own way, she loved him. It might not be the kind of love that others understood, but that didn’t matter. What she and Leo had was good enough for both of them.
Halfway across town, Amanda was drinking coffee at the kitchen table and doing her best to ignore her mother’s pointed silence. The night before, after Amanda had come in, her mom had been waiting in the parlor, and even before Amanda had the chance to sit down, the questions had begun.
Where have you been? Why are you so late? Why didn’t you call?
I did call, Amanda reminded her, but instead of being drawn into the incriminating conversation her mom obviously wanted, Amanda mumbled that she had a headache and that what she really needed to do was lie down in her room. If her mother’s demeanor this morning was any indication, she was obviously displeased by that. Aside from a quick good morning as she’d entered the kitchen, her mom had said nothing. Instead, she went straight to the toaster, and after punctuating her silence with a sigh, she popped some bread in. As it was browning, her mom sighed again, a little louder this time.
I get it, Amanda wanted to say. You’re upset. Are you done now? Instead, she sipped her coffee, resolving that no matter how many buttons her mom pressed, she wouldn’t be drawn into an argument.
Amanda heard the toast pop up. Her mother opened the drawer and pulled out a knife before closing it with a rattle. She began to butter her toast.
“Are you feeling any better?” her mom finally asked without turning around.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Are you ready to tell me what’s going on? Or where you were?”
“I told you, I had a late start.” Amanda tried her best to keep her voice even.
“I tried to call you, but I kept getting your voice mail.”
“My battery died.” That lie had come to her last night, on her way over. Her mom was nothing if not predictable.
Her mother picked up her plate. “Is that why you never called Frank?”
“I talked to him yesterday, about an hour after he got home from work.” She picked up the morning paper, scanning the headlines with studied nonchalance.
“Well, he also called here.”
“And?”
“He was surprised you hadn’t arrived yet,” Amanda’s mother sniffed. “He said that as far as he knew, you left around two.”
“I had to run some errands before I left,” she said. The lies came way too easily, she thought, but then she’d had a lot of practice.
“He sounded upset.”
No, he sounded like he was drinking, Amanda thought, and I doubt if he’ll even remember. She got up from the table and refilled her cup of coffee. “I’ll call him later.”
Her mother took a seat. “I was invited to play bridge last night.”
So that’s what this was about, Amanda thought. Or at least part of it, anyway. Her mom was addicted to the game and had been playing with the same group of women for almost thirty years. “You should have gone.”
“I couldn’t, because I knew you were coming and I thought we’d have dinner together.” Her mother sat down stiffly. “Eugenia