A Walk to Remember - By Nicholas Sparks Page 0,48

a gray day, cold and bitter.

“Have her home by ten,” he finally said, as though he knew he’d made the wrong decision.

I smiled and wanted to thank him, though I didn’t. I could tell that he wanted to be alone. When I glanced over my shoulder on my way out the door, I was puzzled to see his face in his hands.

I asked Jamie an hour later. The first thing she said was that she didn’t think she could go, but I told her that I’d already spoken to her father. She seemed surprised, and I think it had an effect on how she viewed me after that. The one thing I didn’t tell her was that it looked almost as though Hegbert had been crying as I’d made my way out the door. Not only didn’t I understand it completely, I didn’t want her to worry. That night, though, after talking to my mom again, she provided me with a possible explanation, and to be honest, it made perfect sense to me. Hegbert must have come to the realization that his daughter was growing up and that he was slowly losing her to me. In a way, I hoped that was true.

I picked her up right on schedule. Though I hadn’t asked her to wear her hair down, she’d done it for me. Silently we drove over the bridge, down the waterfront to the restaurant. When we got to the hostess stand, the owner himself appeared and walked us to our table. It was one of the better ones in the place.

It was crowded by the time we arrived, and all around us people were enjoying them-selves. On New Year’s people dressed fashionably, and we were the only two teenagers in the place. I didn’t think we looked too out of place, though.

Jamie had never been to Flauvin’s before, and it took her just a few minutes to take it all in. She seemed nervously happy, and I knew right away that my mom had made the right suggestion.

“This is wonderful,” she said to me. “Thank you for asking me.”

“My pleasure,” I said sincerely.

“Have you been here before?”

“A few times. My mother and father like to come here sometimes when my father comes home from Washington.”

She looked out the window and stared at a boat that was passing by the restaurant, its lights blazing. For a moment she seemed lost in wonder. “It’s beautiful here,” she said.

“So are you,” I answered.

Jamie blushed. “You don’t mean that.”

“Yes,” I said quietly, “I do.”

We held hands while we waited for dinner, and Jamie and I talked about some of the things that had happened in the past few months. She laughed when we talked about the homecoming dance, and I finally admitted the reason I’d asked her in the first place. She was a good sport about it—she sort of laughed it off cheerfully—and I knew that she’d already figured it out on her own.

“Would you want to take me again?” she teased.

“Absolutely.”

Dinner was delicious—we both ordered the sea bass and salads, and when the waiter finally removed our plates, the music started up. We had an hour left before I had to take her home, and I offered her my hand.

At first we were the only ones on the floor, everyone watching us as we glided around the floor. I think they all knew how we were feeling about each other, and it reminded them of when they were young, too. I could see them smiling wistfully at us. The lights were dim, and when the singer began a slow melody, I held her close to me with my eyes closed, wondering if anything in my life had ever been this perfect and knowing at the same time that it hadn’t.

I was in love, and the feeling was even more wonderful than I ever imagined it could be.

After New Year’s we spent the next week and a half together, doing the things that young couples did back then, though from time to time she seemed tired and listless. We spent time down by the Neuse River, tossing stones in the water, watching the ripples while we talked, or we went to the beach near Fort Macon. Even though it was winter, the ocean the color of iron, it was something that both of us enjoyed doing. After an hour or so Jamie would ask me to take her home, and we’d hold hands in the car. Sometimes, it seemed, she would