Nights in Rodanthe - By Nicholas Sparks Page 0,32

him to decide, don’t you?” he said.

“Who the hell do you think you are? You think you can come here and try to talk your way out of what you did? Like it was just some mistake or something?”

Paul said nothing. Sensing his hesitation, the young man took a step toward him and went on, his voice rising.

“Just get the hell out of here! I don’t want you around here anymore, and my dad doesn’t, either!”

“Fine… okay….”

The young man reached for a nearby shovel and Paul raised his hands, backing away.

“I’m going….”

He turned and started toward the car.

“And don’t come back,” the young man shouted. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough already? My mother’s dead because of you!”

Paul flinched at the words, feeling their sting, then got in the car. After starting the engine, he pulled away without looking back.

He didn’t see the neighbor come down from the ladder to speak with the young man; he didn’t see the young man throw the shovel. He didn’t see the living room curtain fall back into place inside the house.

Nor did he see the front door open or the wrinkled hand that retrieved the note after it had fallen to the porch.

Minutes later, Adrienne was listening to Paul as he recounted what had happened. They were in the kitchen, and Paul was leaning against the counter, his arms crossed as he gazed out the window. His expression was blank, withdrawn; he looked far more tired than he had earlier in the morning. When he finished, Adrienne’s face showed a mixture of sympathy and concern.

“At least you tried,” she said.

“A lot of good that did, huh?”

“Maybe he didn’t know about his father’s letter.”

Paul shook his head. “It’s not just that. It goes back to the whole reason I came here. I wanted to see if I could fix it somehow or at least make it understandable, but I’m not even going to get the chance.”

“That’s not your fault.”

“Then why does it feel that way?”

In the silence that followed, Adrienne could hear the ticking of the heater.

“Because you care. Because you’ve changed.”

“Nothing’s changed. They still think I killed her.” He sighed. “Can you imagine how it feels to know that someone believes that about you?”

“No,” she admitted, “I can’t. I’ve never had to go through something like that.”

Paul nodded, looking drawn.

Adrienne watched to see if his expression would change, and when it didn’t, she surprised herself by moving toward him and reaching for his hand. It was stiff at first, but he relaxed and she felt his fingers curl into hers.

“As hard as it is to accept, and no matter what anyone says,” she said carefully, “you have to understand that even if you had talked to the father this morning, you probably wouldn’t have changed his son’s mind. He’s hurting, and it’s easier to blame someone like you than to accept the fact that his mother’s time had come. And no matter how you think it went, you did do something important by going there this morning.”

“What’s that?”

“You listened to what the son had to say. Even though he’s wrong, you gave him the chance to tell you how he feels. You let him get it off his chest, and in the end, that’s probably what the father wanted all along. Since he knows the case isn’t going to make it to court, he wanted you to hear his side of the story in person. To know how they feel.”

Paul laughed grimly. “That makes me feel a whole lot better.”

Adrienne squeezed his hand. “What did you expect would happen? That they’d listen to what you had to say and accept it after a few minutes? After hiring a lawyer and continuing the suit, even when they knew they didn’t have a chance? After hearing what all the other doctors had said? They wanted you to come so you could listen to them. Not the other way around.”

Paul said nothing, but deep down he knew she was right. Why, though, hadn’t he realized it before?

“I know it wasn’t easy to hear,” she went on, “and I know they’re wrong and it isn’t fair to blame what happened on you. But you gave them something important today, and more than that, it was something you didn’t have to do. You can be proud of that.”

“None of what happened surprised you, did it?”

“Not really.”

“Did you know that this morning? When I first told you about them?”

“I wasn’t sure, but I thought it might go like this.”

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