A Bend in the Road - By Nicholas Sparks Page 0,117

Andrews?”

“Yeah,” he said, “I do.”

“Does she like you?”

“I think so.”

“Then what’s so complicated?” His eyes were pleading, and Miles knew then with certainty that Jonah not only missed Sarah, he loved her as well.

“Come here,” he said, drawing Jonah close, not knowing what else to do.

Two days later, Charlie pulled up in front of Miles’s house as he was loading a few things into the car.

“Taking off already?”

Miles turned. “Oh ... hey, Charlie. I figured it’d be better if we got going a little early. I don’t want to be stuck in traffic.”

He closed the trunk and stood. “Thanks again for letting us use your place out there.”

“No problem. You need a hand?”

“No. I’m just about done.”

“How long you gonna stay?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a couple of weeks, until just after the New Year. You sure it’s okay?”

“Don’t worry about it—you’ve got enough vacation time to spend a month up there.”

Miles shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe I will.”

Charlie cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, by the way, I came by to let you know that Harvey isn’t going to press charges. Seems that Otis told him to drop it. So, officially, your suspension is over and you’ll be able to work again when you get back.”

“Good.”

Jonah came bursting out the door, and both of them turned at the sound. Jonah called hello to Charlie, then turned around and ran back inside as if he’d forgotten something.

“So is Sarah going to join you up there for a few days? She’s more than welcome to.”

Miles was still looking toward the door, and he turned back to Charlie. “I don’t think so. Her family is here, and with the holidays, I don’t think she’s going to make it.”

“That’s too bad. You’ll see her when you get back, though, right?”

Miles dropped his gaze, and Charlie knew what that meant. “Not going so well?”

“You know how it goes.”

“Not really. I haven’t dated in forty years. But that’s a shame.”

“You don’t even know her, Charlie.”

“Didn’t have to. I meant that it’s a shame for you.”

Charlie pushed his hands into his pockets. “Listen, I didn’t come here to pry. That’s your own business. Actually, there’s another reason. Something I’m still not exactly sure about.”

“Oh?”

“I got to wondering about that phone call—you know, when you let me know that Otis was innocent and suggested we stop the investigation.”

Miles said nothing, and Charlie squinted at him from beneath his hat. “I take it you’re still convinced of that.”

After a moment, Miles nodded. “He’s innocent.”

“Despite what Sims and Earl said?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not just saying that so you can handle this on your own, are you?”

“You’ve got my word on that, Charlie.”

Charlie searched his face, sensing that he was telling the truth. “All right,” he said. He brushed his hands against his shirt, as if wiping them off, then tipped his hat. “Well, listen—have a good time up there at Nags Head. Try to do some fishing for me, okay?”

Miles smiled. “You got it.”

Charlie took a few steps, then suddenly stopped and turned. “Oh—wait, there’s one more thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Brian Andrews. I’m still a little foggy on why you were bringing him in that day. Is there anything you want me to take care of while you’re gone? Anything I should know about?”

“No,” he answered.

“It was...what? You never were real clear about it.”

“A mistake of sorts, Charlie.” Miles studied the trunk of his car. “Just a mistake.”

Charlie gave a startled laugh. “You know, that’s funny.”

“What is?”

“Your choice of words. Brian said exactly the same thing.”

“You talked to Brian?”

“I had to check in on him, you know. He had an accident while in the custody of one of my deputies. I had to make sure he was doing okay.”

Miles paled.

“Don’t worry, I made sure that no one else was home.” He let that sink in, then, bringing his hand to his chin, he gave the appearance of someone groping for the right words. “You see,” he finally went on, “I got to thinking about those two things, and the investigator in me had the feeling that they just might be connected somehow.”

“They weren’t,” Miles said quickly.

Charlie nodded, his face serious. “I thought you might say that, but like I said, I had to make sure. I just want to be clear— there’s nothing I should know about Brian Andrews?”

Miles should have known that Charlie would figure it out. “No,” he said simply.

“Okay,” Charlie said. “Then let me give you some advice.”

Miles waited.

“If you’re telling me it’s over, then follow your own advice, okay?”

Charlie made sure that Miles heard the seriousness in his tone.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Miles asked.

“If it’s over—if it’s really over—then don’t let it screw up the rest of your life.”

“I don’t follow you.”

Charlie shook his head and sighed.

“Yes, you do,” he said.

Epilogue

It’s nearly dawn now, and my story is almost over. It’s time, I think, to let you know the rest.

I’m thirty-one years old now. I’ve been married three years to a woman named Janice, whom I met in a bakery. She, like Sarah, is a teacher, though she teaches high school English. We live in California, where I attended medical school and did my residency. I’m an emergency room physician, out of school for a year now, and in the past three weeks, with the help of many others, I’ve saved the lives of six people. I’m not saying this to brag, I’m telling you this because I want you to know that I’ve done my best to honor Miles’s words to me in the cemetery.

I’ve also kept my word about telling no one.

It wasn’t for me that Miles made me promise silence, you see. My silence, I was convinced at the time, was for his own protection.

Believe it or not, letting me go that day was a crime. A sheriff who has absolute knowledge that someone has committed a crime must turn that person in. Though our crimes were far from equal, the law is clear on this point, and Miles broke the law.

At least that’s what I believed back then. After years of reflection, however, I came to realize that I’d been wrong.

I know now that he’d asked me because of Jonah.

If it had become widely known that I was the one driving the car, people in town would have forever gossiped about Miles’s past. It would have become part of his general description—“The most awful thing happened to him,” people would say—and Jonah would have had to grow up with those words all around him. How would something like that affect a child? Who knows. I don’t, and Miles didn’t. But he wasn’t willing to take that chance.

Nor will I risk it even now. When I am finished, I plan to burn these pages in the fireplace. I just needed to get it out.

It’s still hard, though, for all of us. I talk to my sister infrequently on the phone, usually at odd hours, and I seldom visit. I use distance as an excuse—she lives across the country from my wife and me—but we both know the real reason I stay away. She does, though, sometimes come to see me. She is always alone when she does so.

As for what happened with Miles and Sarah, I’m sure you’ve figured it out. . . .

It happened on Christmas Eve, six days after Miles and Sarah said good-bye on the porch. By then Sarah had finally, reluctantly, come to grips with the fact that it was over. She hadn’t heard from Miles, nor did she expect to.

But that night, after getting home from visiting her parents, Sarah got out of her car, glanced up toward her apartment—and froze. She couldn’t believe what she saw. She closed her eyes, then opened them slowly, hoping and praying it was true.

It was.

Sarah couldn’t help but smile.

Like tiny stars, two candles were flickering in her windows.

And Miles and Jonah were waiting for her inside.

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