The Best of Me - Nicholas Sparks [40]
Amanda dropped her gaze and said nothing. There was really nothing she could say. In the silence, she heard a sigh. When her mom finally went on, her voice had lost its edge.
“You know what? I’ve been lying for you, too, Amanda, and I’m tired of it. But I’m still your mother and you can talk to me.”
“Yes, Mom.” In her voice she heard the petulant echo of her teenage self and hated herself for it.
“Is something going on with the kids that I should know about?”
“No. The kids are great.”
“Is it Frank?”
Amanda rotated the handle on her coffee cup to the opposite side.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.
“No.” Amanda’s voice was flat.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“No,” she said again.
“What’s going on with you, Amanda?”
For some reason, the question made her think about Dawson, and for an instant she was back in Tuck’s kitchen, basking in Dawson’s attention. And she knew then that she wanted nothing more than to see him again, no matter what the consequences.
“I don’t know,” she finally murmured. “I wish I did, but I don’t.”
After Amanda went up to shower, Evelyn Collier stood on the back porch, staring at the fine layer of mist that hovered over the river. Normally, it was one of her favorite times of the day and had been, ever since she was a girl. Back then, she hadn’t lived on the river; she’d lived near the mill her father owned, but on weekends she used to wander out to the bridge, where she sometimes sat for hours, watching the sun gradually dissipate the mist. Harvey had known she’d always wanted to live on the river, and it was the reason he’d bought the house only a few months after they’d been married. Of course, he’d bought it from his father for a song—the Colliers owned a lot of property back then—so it hadn’t been a terrible stretch for him, but that wasn’t important. What was important was that he’d cared, and she wished he were still around, if only to talk to him about Amanda. Who on earth knew what was going on with her these days? But then Amanda had always been a mystery, even as a girl. She had her own ideas about things, and from the time she could walk she’d always been as stubborn as a warped door on a humid summer day. If her mom told her to stay close, Amanda would wander off the first chance she got; if she told Amanda to wear something pretty, Amanda would skip down the steps wearing something from the back of the closet. When she was very young it had been somewhat possible to keep Amanda under control and on the right track. She was a Collier, after all, and people had expectations. But once Amanda became a teenager? Lord knows, it was like the devil had gotten into her. First Dawson Cole—a Cole!—and then the lies and sneaking out and the endless moodiness and fresh responses whenever she tried to talk some sense into her daughter. Evelyn’s hair actually began to turn gray from the stress, and though Amanda didn’t know it, if it wasn’t for a steady supply of bourbon, she wasn’t sure how she would have made it through those awful years.
Once they’d managed to separate her from the Cole boy and Amanda went off to college, things started to improve. There were some good, solid years, and the grandchildren were a delight, of course. Sad about the baby girl, just a toddler and a beautiful creature, but the Lord never promised anyone a life without tribulation. Why, she’d had a miscarriage herself a year before Amanda was born. Still, she was pleased that Amanda had been able to get back up on her horse after a respectable period of time—Lord knows the family needed her—and even take up some noteworthy charity work. Evelyn would have preferred something a little less taxing, like the Junior League, perhaps, but Duke University Hospital was still a fine institution, and she didn’t mind telling her friends about the fund-raising luncheons Amanda hosted, or even her volunteer work there.
Recently, Amanda seemed to be slipping back into her old ways—lying like a teenager, of all things! Oh, they’d never been all that close, and