A Walk to Remember - By Nicholas Sparks Page 0,49

almost nod off before we even got home, while other times she would keep up a stream of chatter all the way back so that I could barely get a word in edgewise.

Of course, spending time with Jamie also meant doing the things she enjoyed as well. Though I wouldn’t go to her Bible study class—I didn’t want to look like an idiot in front of her—we did visit the orphanage twice more, and each time we went there, I felt more at home. Once, though, we’d had to leave early, because she was running a slight fever. Even to my untrained eyes, it was clear that her face was flushed.

We kissed again, too, though not every time we were together, and I didn’t even think of trying to make it to second base. There wasn’t any need to. There was something nice when I kissed her, something gentle and right, and that was enough for me. The more I did it, the more I realized that Jamie had been misunderstood her entire life, not only by me, but by everyone.

Jamie wasn’t simply the minister’s daughter, someone who read the Bible and did her best to help others. Jamie was also a seventeen-year-old girl with the same hopes and doubts that I had. At least, that’s what I assumed, until she finally told me.

I’ll never forget that day because of how quiet she had been, and I had the funny feeling all day long that something important was on her mind.

I was walking her home from Cecil’s Diner on the Saturday before school started up again, a day blustery with a fierce, biting wind. A nor’easter had been blowing in since the previous morning, and while we walked, we’d had to stand close to each other to stay warm. Jamie had her arm looped through mine, and we were walking slowly, even more slowly than usual, and I could tell she wasn’t feeling well again. She hadn’t really wanted to go with me because of the weather, but I’d asked her because of my friends. It was time, I remember thinking, that they finally knew about us. The only problem, as fate would have it, was that no one else was at Cecil’s Diner. As with many coastal communities, things were quiet on the waterfront in the middle of winter.

She was quiet as we walked, and I knew that she was thinking of a way to tell me something. I didn’t expect her to start the conversation as she did.

“People think I’m strange, don’t they,” she finally said, breaking the silence.

“Who do you mean?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.

“People at school.”

“No, they don’t,” I lied.

I kissed her cheek as I squeezed her arm a little tighter to me. She winced, and I could tell that I’d hurt her somehow.

“Are you okay?” I asked, concerned.

“I’m fine,” she said, regaining her composure and keeping the subject on track. “Will you do me a favor, though?”

“Anything,” I said.

“Will you promise to tell me the truth from now on? I mean always?”

“Sure,” I said.

She stopped me suddenly and looked right at me. “Are you lying to me right now?”

“No,” I said defensively, wondering where this was going. “I promise that from now on, I’ll always tell you the truth.”

Somehow, when I said it, I knew that I’d come to regret it.

We started walking again. As we moved down the street, I glanced at her hand, which was looped through mine, and I saw a large bruise just below her ring finger. I had no idea where it had come from, since it hadn’t been there the day before. For a second I thought it might have been caused by me, but then I realized that I hadn’t even touched her there.

“People think I’m strange, don’t they?” she asked again.

My breath was coming out in little puffs.

“Yes,” I finally answered. It hurt me to say it.

“Why?” She looked almost despondent.

I thought about it. “People have different reasons,” I said vaguely, doing my best not to go any further. “But why, exactly? Is it because of my father? Or is it because I try to be nice to people?”

I didn’t want anything to do with this.

“I suppose,” was all I could say. I felt a little queasy.

Jamie seemed disheartened, and we walked a little farther in silence.

“Do you think I’m strange, too?” she asked me.

The way she said it made me ache more than I thought it would. We were almost at her