The Wedding - By Nicholas Sparks Page 0,14
surprise me. Anna, as I’ve mentioned, has always done things her own way.
“Oh . . . ,” Jane said, but before she could say anything more, Anna reached for her hand.
“There’s something else, Mom. It’s kind of important.”
Anna glanced warily from me to Jane again.
“The thing is . . . well, you know how Grampa’s doing, right?”
We nodded. Like all my children, Anna had always been close to Noah.
“And with his stroke and all . . . well, Keith has really enjoyed getting to know him and I love him more than anything . . .”
She paused. Jane squeezed her hand, urging her to continue.
“Well, we want to get married while he’s still healthy, and none of us knows how long he really has. So Keith and I got to talking about possible dates, and with him heading off to Duke in a couple of weeks for his residency and the fact that I’m moving, too, and then Grampa’s health . . . well, we wondered if you two wouldn’t mind if . . .”
She trailed off, her gaze finally settling on Jane.
“Yes,” Jane whispered.
Anna drew a long breath. “We were thinking about getting married next Saturday.”
Jane’s mouth formed a small s. Anna continued speaking, clearly anxious to get the rest out before we could interrupt.
“I know it’s your anniversary—and it’s okay if you say no, of course—but we both think it would be a wonderful way to honor the two of you. For everything you’ve done for each other, for everything you’ve done for me. And it seems like the best way. I mean, we want something easy, like a justice of the peace at the courthouse and maybe dinner with the family. We don’t want gifts or anything fancy. Would you mind?”
As soon as I saw Jane’s face, I knew what her answer would be.
Chapter Three
Like Anna, Jane and I didn’t have a long engagement.
After graduating from law school, I’d started as an associate at Ambry and Saxon, for Joshua Tundle had not yet been made partner. He was, like me, an associate, and our offices were across the hall from each other. Originally from Pollocksville—a small hamlet twelve miles south of New Bern—he’d attended East Carolina University, and during my first year at the firm, he often asked me how I was adapting to life in a small town. It wasn’t, I confessed, exactly what I’d imagined. Even in law school, I’d always assumed that I would work in a large city as my parents had, yet I ended up accepting a job in the town where Jane had been raised.
I’d moved here for her, but I can’t say I’ve ever regretted my decision. New Bern may not have a university or research park, but what it lacks in size, it makes up for in character. It’s located ninety miles southeast of Raleigh in flat, low country amid forests of loblolly pines and wide, slow-moving rivers. The brackish waters of the Neuse River wash the edges of the town and seem to change color almost hourly, from gunmetal gray at dawn, to blue on sunny afternoons, and then to brown as the sun begins to set. At night, it’s a swirl of liquid coal.
My office is downtown near the historic district, and after lunch, I’ll sometimes stroll by the old homes. New Bern was founded in 1710 by Swiss and Palatine settlers, making it the second oldest town in North Carolina. When I first moved here, a great many of the historic homes were dilapidated and abandoned. This has changed in the last thirty years. One by one, new owners began to restore these residences to their former glory, and nowadays, a sidewalk tour leaves one with the feeling that renewal is possible in times and places we least expect. Those interested in architecture can find handblown glass in the windows, antique brass fixtures on the doors, and hand-carved wainscoting that complements the heart-pine floor inside. Graceful porches face the narrow streets, harkening back to a time when people sat outside in the early evenings to catch a stray breeze. The streets are shaded with oaks and dogwoods, and thousands of azaleas bloom every spring. It is, quite simply, one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen.
Jane was raised on the outskirts of town in a former plantation house built nearly two hundred years earlier. Noah had restored it in the years following World War II; he was meticulous in the work he did, and like