A Walk to Remember - By Nicholas Sparks Page 0,55

the Bible and watching Jamie out of the corner of my eye at the same time, and we’d come across a passage or a psalm, maybe even a proverb, and I’d ask her what she thought about it. She always had an answer, and I’d nod, thinking about it. Sometimes she asked me what I thought, and I did my best, too, though there were moments when I was bluffing and I was sure that she could tell. “Is that what it really means to you?” she’d ask, and I’d rub my chin and think about it before trying again. Sometimes, though, it was her fault when I couldn’t concentrate, what with that hand on my knee and all.

One Friday night I brought her over for dinner at my house. My mom joined us for the main course, then left the table and sat in the den so that we could be alone.

It was nice there, sitting with Jamie, and I knew she felt the same way. She hadn’t been leaving her house much, and this was a good change for her.

Since she’d told me about her illness, Jamie had stopped wearing her hair in a bun, and it was still as stunning as it had been the first time I’d seen her wear it down. She was looking at the china cabinet—my mom had one of those cabinets with the lights inside—when I reached across the table and took her hand.

“Thank you for coming over tonight,” I said.

She turned her attention back to me. “Thanks for inviting me.”

I paused. “How’s your father holding up?”

Jamie sighed. “Not too well. I worry about him a lot.”

“He loves you dearly, you know.”

“I know.”

“So do I,” I said, and when I did, she looked away. Hearing me say this seemed to frighten her again.

“Will you keep coming over to my house?” she asked. “Even later, you know, when . . . ?”

I squeezed her hand, not hard, but enough to let her know that I meant what I said.

“As long as you want me to come, I’ll be there.”

“We don’t have to read the Bible anymore, if you don’t want to.”

“Yes,” I said softly, “I think we do.”

She smiled. “You’re a good friend, Landon. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She squeezed my hand, returning the favor. Sitting across from me, she looked radiant.

“I love you, Jamie,” I said again, but this time she wasn’t frightened. Instead our eyes met across the table, and I watched as hers began to shine. She sighed and looked away, running her hand through her hair, then turned to me again. I kissed her hand, smiling in return.

“I love you, too,” she finally whispered.

They were the words I’d been praying to hear.

I don’t know if Jamie told Hegbert about her feelings for me, but I somehow doubted it because his routine hadn’t changed at all. It was his habit to leave the house whenever I came over after school, and this continued. I would knock at the door and listen as Hegbert explained to Jamie that he would be leaving and would be back in a couple of hours. “Okay, Daddy,” I always heard her say, then I would wait for Hegbert to open the door. Once he let me in, he would open the hallway closet and silently pull out his coat and hat, buttoning the coat up all the way before he left the house. His coat was oldfashioned, black and long, like a trench coat without zippers, the kind that was fashionable earlier this century. He seldom spoke directly to me, even after he learned that Jamie and I’d begun to read the Bible together.

Though he still didn’t like me in the house if he wasn’t there, he nonetheless allowed me to come in. I knew that part of the reason had to do with the fact that he didn’t want Jamie to get chilled by sitting on the porch, and the only other alternative was to wait at the house while I was there. But I think Hegbert needed some time alone, too, and that was the real reason for the change. He didn’t talk to me about the rules of the house—I could see them in his eyes the first time he’d said I could stay. I was allowed to stay in the living room, that was all.

Jamie was still moving around fairly well, though the winter was miserable. A cold streak blew in during the last part of January that